Sunday Sunday

I love Sundays...well to be fair weekends in general, and mornings in particular. Life rarely gets more simple or perfect after about 8am. Sitting with a warm cup of coffee in my hands, watching Ainsley laugh and play, talking with my husband out in our shabby (I'd insert chic here but that would be a lie) back porch is the epitome of happiness for me. Even the birds frequently diving into the not-so-clean-so-why-can't-they-see-them windows and plummeting to their occasional death, can't dampen my morning glow. Everything is possible in the morning. Everything is new and fresh...except for my breath and Ainsley's diaper.

For instance today I plan to tackle August/September birthday presents, plant a window box, clean the entire apartment, go for a 5 mile jog, and teach Ainsley how to make the sound "Mmmm". I assure you it is possible, all of it is possible, because it is the morning and I am not quite lucid enough yet to realize that I will in fact complete 1 of these tasks, 2 if I'm lucky and have one more cup of coffee.

Perhaps this is another issue of mine. I constantly set myself up for failure. Every morning I wake up with dreams of supreme productivity. I WILL do everything on my mental to-do list and possibly solve the issue of world peace while Ainsley is napping, and then subsequently find a way to let Obama know so he can execute my grand plan. It's possible right?

No. It is in fact NOT possible and herein lies my flaw. Perhaps it IS possible for someone. It must be, right? If there aren't supremely productive, maniacally multitasking people in the world we are all in big trouble. I sure hope someone figures out world peace at some point. I'm just guessing it's not going to be a 25-year-old stay-at-home new mom who uses cloth diapers and needs at least one nap a day.

What I believe I need is a dose of reality. You'd think being put on bed rest at 34 weeks pregnant forcing me to leave work a month early and giving birth in a tub on Christmas Eve would make me realize that life, at times, is beyond my realm of control. I guess I'm still blocking this instance out as I can't seem to get it through my head that I can't have life just the way I want it. Sure, I'd LOVE to say that I workout everyday, weed my garden religiously, go to church every Sunday, live spontaneously and fully. The truth is most days consist of one outing to the grocery store, a pitifully short walk, and a lot of play time on the floor. Some days it's all I can do to make one phone call to a friend or family member, clean the toilet, let alone a whole room, and keep Ainsley's myriad of toys and clothes in "neat" piles. I'm hoping I'm still in an adjustment period, even though Ainsley's pushing 7 months old and I'm afraid I can't claim this for much longer.

It used to be different. In college I was nearly always on my A game, juggling 6 hour morning coffee shop shifts with classes, a full social calendar, and, during junior year, training for a half marathon. I would hesitate to write this for fear that it sounds like boasting, but we live in a society and culture where this is the norm, if not expected of the general population. If you aren't doing a million things at once, you're a failure. Especially, I've come to learn, if you're a mom.

I've recently joined a playgroup and have seen first hand the effects of the outrageous expectations place on mothers. If you're not teaching your child how to read by 3 months old, having them listen to stimulating music at all hours of the day, and getting them to sleep for at least 10 hours a night, forget about being invited to be a member of the "acceptable mothers" group. In addition to these small feats, btw, you should also hold at least a part time job, remain socially active, workout obsessively to maintain a size 4 figure, and sustain at least 2 hobbies, you know, in your spare time. WHAT?!?!? I for one was convinced that these expectations were an urban myth. Furthermore I was sure that if I was presented with these issues I would remain unaffected by them. While I must say the rather "granola" mothers in my group remain relatively impervious to the "mom pressures" present today, and I am thankfully still somewhat naive to them, we all recognize their presence.

Thankfully, I was brought up believing in the virtue of simplicity. You choose one, maybe two extracurricular activities, are in bed by 10pm, and observe a mandatory quiet hour on the weekends. At the time I'm sure I was annoyed by these limitations. I wanted to be one of those high school girls who did everything...you know the ones. In retrospect I am thankful for my one or two activities. I remember vividly cross country practices followed by a family dinner at the table and the occasional dance class or piano lesson in the evenings. I valued each activity and learned the importance of commitment, something I feel is lacking today with most children. Coaches should understand why their goalie is absent for half the games, they are after all involved in three other sports and take a family vacation once a month...it's not THEIR fault. Of course it is, and the fault of the parent's even more so for allowing their child to spread themselves, and most likely THEMselves as well, so thin.

Perhaps my greatest hope for Ainsley, and subsequently Ian and I, is to continue to live simply, even when society is screaming at us to fill our lives to the brim with nonsense. To fill our lives instead with activities and events that matter, meaningful relationships and experiences, and memories, lots and lots of joyful memories. After all, what could be more important than sitting on the porch on a lazy Sunday morning, listening to my baby laugh, talking with my husband, and dreaming about all that the day could hold? Not much, except perhaps a day filled with hope and an evening of satisfaction.