Saturday, September 21, 2013

Dear Peyton

(You all know that I am back to work. Did you also know that I am hating ever single second of it? My therapy is to write little letters to Sweet P that she may or may not read one day. When I arrive to work and wait for the official shift change I have a few minutes to jot down my thoughts for the day. I have decided to share them here so that the Internet can store them for me and I don't need to find a safe place to keep a journal. This letter was written over three days- my first three back at work- and I just added bits and pieces whenever I was overcome by how much I missed her.)



Dear Peyton,
You are growing so fast! Every day I catch myself saying, "Slow down, sweet girl. You don't need to be in such a hurry to grow up!" On the one hand, I want to keep you small forever. You are so curious and excited about the world right now. You wake up with a smile on your face and a twinkle in your eye. You see the wonder in the world and you really seem to appreciate the "little things" in life. Probably because to you they are the really BIG things! Hearing a duck quack for the first time made you squeal with delight. And the first time you tried an overripe banana (one that would normally be passed up by someone with more life experience and less curiosity) you let out a loud and satisfied "mmmm"! What a delight it is to watch you grow! Everyday brings something new and exciting to you and as I write this, we are another moment closer to your next "big" discovery. 
But because moms the world over have not successfully figured out how to slow down childhood and keep their wee ones little, I instead anxiously await what fun times lie ahead. 
I can't wait to cheer you on from the sidelines of your first softball game, soccer match, cheerleading competition, spelling bee...whatever you decide to be a part of  is where I will be supporting you. I can't wait until the first time I hear you say "momma, I love you." I am eager for the day you tell me all about what happened at school and who your best friend of the minute is. I am curious to know what trends you will follow- or perhaps set!  I look forward to the moments when you awkwardly dress yourself  in mismatched pieces from the wardrobe that I used to control. I will (reluctantly) allow you to make your own choices and hope that they are all good ones. But of course, for the times you do slip up, I will be the one you can count on for advice and forgiveness. 
Being a mother is all at once invigorating and debilitating. I have more life in me at 3am when I hear your whimper down the hall than I could ever hope to have after four cups of coffee and a full night sleep. I owe this energy all to you and my endless desire to squeeze more time out of the day to spend with you. And yet somehow with all the vigor you've given me I am crippled by the extreme, all encompassing, fully involved, and completely, overwhelmingly deep amount of love I have for you. My focus has forever changed and my heart is forever open. And this, my sweet angel, is one reason I can't wait for you to grow up. I want you to be an adult solely because I want for you to know this feeling of T.R.U.E. L.O.V.E.  The type of love that takes you by storm, stops you in your tracks, leaves you breathless. The type of love that you can only feel once you have become a parent. You will, of course, have many loves while growing up and they will feel so incredibly important to you at the time. And as you experience these loves I promise to remind myself that I too had obsessions that I just knew were the real deal. (For me, they were Solemite, Friday nights at Brendan Theater, my navy blue suede Fila tennis shoes, Cold Stone Creamery...) So when you cry because your favorite pair of shoes gets a scuff mark on the toe or your heart breaks because your weren't invited to a sleepover I will empathize with you because I know to you those things will feel crushing and devastating because they are your great loves of the moment. (I may even cry with you- another "side effect" of being a mom!) Then I will help you to pick up the pieces and move onward to your next love affair- whatever or whoever it may be. 
Baby girl, one of the most difficult things to do is explain to someone what it feels like to be a momma. It is so true when they say that you have to experience it to know what it is like and I thank you with all my heart- my big, open, vulnerable heart- for letting me experience it with you. 
Love you more than you can know, Momma

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Hi ho--hi ho--it's off to fu*%ing work we go

Today, 48 is a gruesome number in our house. For starters, in 48 short hours my maternity leave is O.V.E.R. and I'm devastated at the thought of it.  Secondly, "48 Hours: Real Life Mystery" is about to have a new feature story-- East Bay Woman Vanishes on Eve of Return to Work! I've started working out all the details of how to skip town with my Sweet P but I keep getting hung up on the "little" details that actually end up being major clues to the FBI. 
*Six Flags season pass linked to missing woman used twice over weekend* 
*Employees report sighting of missing woman at new Nordstrom Rack* 
*Woman and child matching description of missing Martinez residents spotted getting frozen yogurt and snuggling at the park*
You see, I just couldn't keep myself from doing all my regular fun activities because this sweet girl makes me want to get out and enjoy the day.  Every day little things are SO MUCH BETTER when I've got my special sidekick with me and it will be an adjustment knowing someone else is being my stand in while I'm away. Because the reality is, I must work. I join a special league of women who are working mothers: a powerful and talented group that keep shit working well at home and then head to work and make shit happen there, too. And I know I will survive because I have the support of these strong women by my side. And soon enough, when I've gotten the hang of things, I will be a supporter to another new working mama. And that makes me proud! 
Truthfully, it isn't the actual work that I am dreading. In fact, a VERY small part of me is eager to get myself on a schedule and, in the process, get Sweet P on a schedule. Another, even smaller part of me, misses getting blood on my new shoes, fishing highlighter caps out of vaginas, and getting asked out on fancy dates by intoxicated homeless men. Am I looking forward to the slow traffic through the tunnel and driving six laps through a seven story parking garage while searching for a too-small parking spot? Nope. Do I get excited at the thought of being berated by some ghetto hood rat about how she could do everything I do but "ten hund'ed thousand times better"despite the fact that she "ain't even gone to Heald, bitch"? Not in the slightest. Am I thrilled at the thought of being intellectually stimulated and challenged on a very regular basis? A little. Am I stoked to "bring home the bacon" and have an opportunity to provide my daughter with a happy, fulfilling, enriched childhood? You bet I am. 
Wish me luck!