I Am Not Superwoman

The past couple of nights have been rough. Eliza has been waking at least every hour wanting to eat or cuddle or play. We've been trying to get her on some semblance of a "schedule," so her bedtime has been moved from whenever we feel like it to between 7:00 and 8:00. She doesn't like sleeping alone (we usually co-sleep), but Erik and I have been sorely in need of a few Eliza-free hours in the evening.

But Eliza begs to differ, and she has been protesting in the only way she knows how: by torturing me with sleep deprivation. She might also be teething, which just throws another wrench in the clunky machine we're calling bedtime. Such is life with a babe.

After I had a mini-meltdown the other night, mainly due to being overtired and trying to get a too-complex dinner finished before it was time for an equally overtired Eliza to go to bed, I realized I am suffering from Superwoman Syndrome. That is, I have been trying way too hard to prove to myself that I can do more than is humanly possible. The sad fact is, I am human, and am therefore bound by the restraints of being such.

So, maybe I can't be a full-time stay-at-home mom, cook a full dinner from scratch every night, keep the house clean, exercise, write a book, be a freelance writer, be a freelance editor, write a blog, and stay involved in social activities, all with a smile on my face. Maybe I need to pick a few of those things and leave it at that. Maybe in a few months, or a few years, I'll be able to do more, but my guess is, if I keep pushing myself like this, someone's gonna get hurt.

I LOVE being a stay-at-home mom, so that's obviously going to stay the same, but I think I need to put the pursuit of a new, flashy freelance writing career on the back burner for now. And the book writing isn't going they way I want it to (it requires way more concentration than I am capable of mustering right now), so that's getting put on hold as well. I also love blogging, so I'm definitely going to keep that up, but my dinners (and lunches and breakfasts) are gonna be dialed down. No more three-hour tuna casserole or ten-step chicken enchiladas. If I can start it early in the day, with minimal effort, it's for me. I never thought I'd be one of those people who tout the life-saving merits of the Crock Pot, but I also never thought I'd enjoy spending so much time with a baby.

Does this sound depressing? I hope not. I'm actually feeling good. I've kind of realized my limitations and, with minimal pain and suffering, re-evaluated what is currently important to me. For example, maybe I won't find fame and fortune as a writer this month, but I am going to make brownies tonight and enjoy every bite. Right now, that's the level of excitement I can handle, and I am so very fine with that.