I've been really stuck on the idea of "self" lately. Self. Oneself. Myself. Being selfish vs. being selfless.
I was talking with a friend the other day who has a two year old. She said that being a parent is probably the most selfless thing anyone can do. We were discussing that when we have children all of our energy and time goes into making sure they are taken care of. You don't have a choice. You have a baby, and then BOOM, they are your first priority. Over everything.
This idea of selflessness was echoed again in a different conversation by another friend of mine, who doesn't have any children. We were talking about the sacrifices that we make with babies. Actually, I was talking about how I really wanted to have a few drinks at the cast party after our opening weekend of Kokkola, but couldn't since hangovers with a baby are even worse than hangovers in general. Not really a huge deal in the scheme of things, but it's a good example of how even minor things are affected with a baby. Plus, since Nick is working full-time and in school part-time, that makes things even harder. I can't even schedule a haircut without figuring out a sitter first.
It may sound like I'm complaining. I'm not. I'm absolutely not. Even though I occasionally mourn my pre-baby life, it's all worth it.
That being said, I do wish I had more time for myself. You may say, "What are you talking about? You have a job and are in a play and have an Etsy shop and are writing this blog post right now!" Exactly. I really really wish I had more time when I'm not expected to do anything. Honestly, this contradicts the way I live my life. I thrive on being pulled in many directions. I love doing 100 things at once. But I also crave time for me, when I don't have to worry about anything and can just be. There have been days when Nick has spent his time with Jo so I can do what I need to. Even on these days I rush and feel guilty, hurrying to get home. Argh.
I'm hurriedly writing this blog post before Jo wakes up from a nap. It may have to be finished when she goes down for the night. Then I have a golden period of about an hour (if I'm lucky) to try to fit as many things as possible into that me-time before I have to go to bed. Late nights are a luxury of the past -- Jo wakes up for the day around 5:30am.
And I'll say it again, yes, sometimes (many times) it's really really hard, but it's all worth it.