seven stages of motherhood

What are the seven stages of motherhood? Have no idea, because while I’m enjoying this book, I can’t remember anything from ten minutes ago, never mind information from a 200-page book. Why isn’t one stage of motherhood eating yourself into oblivion? Probably because there is no time.

Both Husband and Mom have observed that I consume my meals at a feral, frightening fast pace. There are days where I feel like I have a choice of a) showering b) eating or c) sleeping. I am more often than not choosing showering, because it’s the most intellectually fulfilling of the three, which is a sad measure of fulfillment, but that’s what it is for now. Mom is excited for a potential thinner me to emerge from the whole postpartum phenomenon, but then is surprised when I haven’t eaten salad, until I explain to her salad requires chopping and preparing vegetables and two hands to eat. If salad came in the form of a bar, I could totally do salad.

Not that it’s all bad, so I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining too much. I have days where I’m totally blissed out, deliriously happy–me and the baby hang out at home and listen to Depeche Mode for hours. But there are also days, I’m much like the woman in “The Yellow Wallpaper,” a short story we had to read in junior high school (about a woman who stays at home too long and starts seeing people in the wallpaper, who eventually like eat her brain or something).

I have always wanted a baby, but had no idea, really no clue, that it would be like this.

One Reply to “seven stages of motherhood”

  1. I like the Depeche Mode thing. It’s never too early to start creating the next generation of synth-pop-loving Asian kids. (Well, half Asian, anyway.)

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