I require positive reinforcement. It’s like air for me- without it, I am pretty melancholy. I think, lately, that a bit of “baby blues,” or the never-ending post-partum hormone soup that is my body, is making such reinforcement even more necessary to keep me from just, well, quitting. Not quitting life or anything dramatic like that, but rather quitting being social at all.
I am a mess of contradictions. I admire my body for carrying two large, healthy babies to term and then nourishing them. I hate my body for how it looks, how the lumps and the flaps and the sags all come together to make something that is so much less than it used to be before kids. I love spending time with my two boys. I hate that since I don’t go anywhere or do anything other than be “mom” anymore, I have nothing to talk about, nothing to contribute to conversations. I love my job, but I hate that I have been so easily replaced and that it has become ever so obvious during my leave that not only am I not needed there, but that someone else could do my job so much better than I can.
I frequently write little notes and give gifts because that is the kind of attention I crave. I feel slighted that the people most important to me in my life can’t give me the same attention (two of them are much to small – I don’t begrudge them this, and it is wonderful that Charles has started to spontaneously say “I love you.”).
I pour my troubles out into this blog, but I can’t think of how to cleverly portray all the wonderful things that happen everyday, so you might think that life always sucks around here. I assure you, it is only I who sucks.
But the fact remains that this highly personal blog is a vehicle for me to interact with people, to be social in a way that I can’t at work and at home. It’s supposed to be the trusted friend who can help me through my problems even if I don’t have a close friend to confide in over coffee (I don’t).
But you’re not doing your part, internet friends. I have two family members and one friend who routinely comment, and a few who stop by. Where are you? I think I need you.
But maybe not. So I’m going to stop letting it all out here. Maybe I’ll post once a week, maybe not. Is it even a good idea that I put photos of my kids on the internet? I don’t know. With all the evil people out there, maybe this blog has inadvertently exposed my boys to some awful maliciousness that will cause me to regret these years of posting about our lives.
I have never been good at keeping a diary. What’s the point of writing when no one else will read it? What I need is fulfillment, a good diet, and someone to lie to me and tell me I’m wonderful.