There's a part of me that is slightly disappointed in myself. For not being more easy going, for not doing everything and anything, whirling around, driving from this social event to tha one...as a Mom.
I thought I'd be able to be the same person, do the same things, commit to anything and everything. But I'm not and I don't and I can't.
The part of me that is commited to keeping my sanity is perfectly and resiliently fine with not being able to do the things I could before. The Mom part of me knows that there isn't anything more valuable and rewarding than staying at home with Noah.
But the old me...the traveller, social butterfly, do what I want, when I want me...still grieves a teeny tiny bit that life has changed like it has.
I think that's normal.
Still...I definitely compare myself to other Moms who appear to be getting on with life as usual. I compare myself to other women (married, single...it doesn't matter). How I look (I should be skinnier), what I do (I should be willing to cart around Noah to whatever, wherever - or heck, just get a babysitter all the time)...it's not all the time. It's not even a large percentage of the time. It's a teeny, tiny, itty bitty little part of me that sometimes whispers to me that I'm missing out.
But I'm not.
I'm actually doing the one thing that NO ONE else in the world could do. Be a Mom to Noah.
And I do love and cherish it.
It's pretty amazing.