#TINA MOM OF TWO AND HUBBY FLICKR PROFESSIONAL#

Perhaps there is no greater anxiety for a mother, or at least one with my particular temperament and family history, than the fear of becoming dependent or professionally unfulfilled.

#TINA MOM OF TWO AND HUBBY FLICKR PROFESSIONAL#

And continue developing my professional identity. You might wonder, why not rescue my endangered solitude during hours when I have paid childcare? Because I have to make money. It’s where the sick turtles go to get unsick. In those moments I try to read the Sunday New York Times on the sly while “making art” with my daughter and she’s not fooled for a second: “Momma, momma, momma. But sometimes, I grow dumb with longing for them now. Sometimes, those dreams chill sweetly with the promise of a future manifestation. The meal that I smell appreciatively before eating, then slowly consume one mindful bite at a time, the swallows of wine in between the bites….The cushion that I rescue from the attic and sit on each empty morning - making good on my lifelong intention of being a person who actually meditates rather than talking about meditating.The clawfoot bathtub in which I soak till the water goes cold.The day in a lounge chair on a beach where I read for three hours straight without moving.The office with the door where I sit for hours and work uninterrupted on that memoir about generations of women and how we consciously and unconsciously influence one another’s life choices.In these moments, I tuck my dreams of being alone away in some special place in my brain. I know it’s a season of life, fleeting and fantastic in all its own overwhelming ways. Sometimes the absence of solitude in my life feels tolerable. She stepped inside the bathroom with me, shut the door behind her, and beamed at me.

The other day she found me going to the bathroom and she said, “Would you like some privacy, Momma?” It was like the clouds parted and I could hear the sounds of a choir. Sometimes when she goes into the bathroom she says, “I would like some privacy,” so we shut the door and give her some time. I’ve been trying to teach her the concept of privacy - a close cousin of solitude. Now that first daughter is three and a half. Looking at it now makes me feel light-headed the unceasing rhythm of it is so daunting, so heavy. I have a memo on my phone where I documented my breastfeeding in the early days of my first daughter’s birth. All of the automatic action that my body did to nurture her now had to happen via conscious attention.

The fact that she exited my body made her presence even more demanding. The cutest possible parasite you can imagine. A wave of relief - physical, emotional, spiritual - passed through me. Then they were born - the most ordinary/extraordinary separation of two beings. Imagine your liver coming to life and getting the hiccups on a regular basis.

I would sit on my couch late at night and watch the surface of my belly stretch into strange shapes as one of my girls extended a limb or switched positions. As we got closer and closer to birth, the sense of being inhabited became even more real. I was not even alone inside of my own body. I was, quite literally, never alone for two different 9-month periods. Is there anyone less alone than a mother of young children?įirst, they were inside of my body.

Tina mom of two and hubby flickr