As the year turns - a year of mothering, and 3 songs
It has been a momentous year, 2011. And literally too. Life with an infant is nothing if not about the moment-to-moment changes of mood, emotional development, mobility, cognitive ability... and for the baby too.
I have some friends who are pregnant and who ask me what being a mother is like. I usually respond that it's all-encompassing, with highs and lows. Truth be told, as enriching as it is, it's also depriving. It's depriving artistically, intellectually, romantically. Which is a huge sacrifice if you've grown accustomed to a childless overgrown pasture of time with the sporadic bursts of colour that are music, banter, reading, restaurants, Internet-idling.
Is it a worthwhile sacrifice? I think it's too soon to tell, sacrilegious to the altar of motherhood as that sounds. Of course my heart is warmed at the simple happiness of my baby, and the ease with which I'm able to provide it. And I pace and worry with all 12 kilos of him on my shoulder when he cries in discomfort or distress. And there is something innately fulfilling about being the carer of another human being, providing his basic needs and being a constant source of stability. But being that core is also incredibly wearying. Sometimes, in the midst of a difficult moment, I look up and see, unfurling before me to the horizon, the unending moments of the next 20, 30, 40 years, and it is a weight which I wish I didn't have.
But let me end on a positive note, since it's the end of the year. We play a game, Max and I. Sometimes I rub his Buddha belly and, in a low voice, say "belly, jelly, belly". He stared askance at me before, but now he pats it contentedly too. That makes me happy.
His song of the year:
My songs of the year (literally, they were the only 2 new albums I listened to):
I have some friends who are pregnant and who ask me what being a mother is like. I usually respond that it's all-encompassing, with highs and lows. Truth be told, as enriching as it is, it's also depriving. It's depriving artistically, intellectually, romantically. Which is a huge sacrifice if you've grown accustomed to a childless overgrown pasture of time with the sporadic bursts of colour that are music, banter, reading, restaurants, Internet-idling.
Is it a worthwhile sacrifice? I think it's too soon to tell, sacrilegious to the altar of motherhood as that sounds. Of course my heart is warmed at the simple happiness of my baby, and the ease with which I'm able to provide it. And I pace and worry with all 12 kilos of him on my shoulder when he cries in discomfort or distress. And there is something innately fulfilling about being the carer of another human being, providing his basic needs and being a constant source of stability. But being that core is also incredibly wearying. Sometimes, in the midst of a difficult moment, I look up and see, unfurling before me to the horizon, the unending moments of the next 20, 30, 40 years, and it is a weight which I wish I didn't have.
But let me end on a positive note, since it's the end of the year. We play a game, Max and I. Sometimes I rub his Buddha belly and, in a low voice, say "belly, jelly, belly". He stared askance at me before, but now he pats it contentedly too. That makes me happy.
His song of the year:
My songs of the year (literally, they were the only 2 new albums I listened to):
posted by Sze at 10:31 am
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