Girl’s Life

I’ve been reading all over lately about new moms taking time for themselves in order to be better parents. And it’s funny timing, too, because I just went and did that very thing last weekend. I went out. Oh, yes — OUT! And not just out. I went out with my best friend for a much needed girls night out. We got the hook ups as VIPs at a concert in a corporate box filled with food and desserts and — most importantly for nursing moms without their babies — alcohol galore. We were like kids in a candy store. (No, for real. You should have seen us when the FREE dessert cart stopped at our door. “I’ll take one of each, please.”) And since we’re both new moms, going to a concert in the city to see a couple of artists we absolutely love was a big ol’ deal. (Sorry, Greg. Please don’t disown me! You and your alt-country-listening-double-standard self.) And the whole while I was thoroughly able to enjoy myself because I knew my baby was at home and fine. She wasn’t missing me. She was sleeping, and I would be there when she woke up. And I was getting back on my feet as a mom, so to speak. Getting revived and ready to rock the late night booby calls and turbo-crawling and teething with new vigor. Every mom needs a night off every once in awhile, and this night was long overdue.

Parents, as couples, need nights off, too. I mentioned before that Chris and I headed up to Big Bear for our anniversary for a night sans baby last month. Time for just the two of us is so rare, and we cherish those moments — the ones our lives were filled to capacity with less than a year ago. Things change a lot in just a year. Now we have to schedule time to date each other, which usually consists of cooking dinner and eating late after the baby is already in bed for the night. A late dinner and a couple glasses of wine never seemed so extravagant back then. Now it’s the ultimate indulgence.

Time together is one thing. But time alone — time for just me — is something else altogether. This weekend at the concert was a rare treat. Since I’ve had Sophia, I’ve been to the gym a measly TWO times. I thought I would start up a routine — go workout after I got the baby to sleep, a little time for me to stop and take care of myself. But ultimately, by the time she eats and gets a bath and a story and nurses and snuggles, I’m so tired that even checking email or blogging after all that is a stretch. The workout never stood a chance with those odds stacked against it like that. And in 11 months I’ve gotten myself to the salon just twice. At this very moment I am in DIRE need of some root repair and can’t remember the last time I wore my hair down. (Believe me, it’s better for everyone that way.) I just can never justify being away that long on the weekends, the only stretch of time that I get during the week to spend significant time with Sophia, or spending that much money on just me when there are always more diapers to buy.

Amanda from Officially a Mom blogged recently about parents (like her, like me) who always put their kids first, and how it can ultimately be detrimental to everyone. “It’s like the old airplane analogy,” she says, “when in case of an emergency, the adult is to put their oxygen masks on BEFORE putting the masks on their children. It’s not selfish. It’s not wrong to put our masks on first. We need to put our masks on so we can help our children…We need to take care of ourselves first otherwise we’re all going to end up oxygen deprived.”

So I put on my oxygen mask and opened up a Heineken this weekend while listening to some sappy tunes. Now if (or rather, when) those emergencies in life pop up, I’ll be ready to put on Sophia’s mask with flying colors and with absolutely no guilt involved.

Progress is being made. This rookie is figuring stuff out. It’s a good thing.