watch out world

I don't know where I lost it. That's the whole idea of losing something, right? You're not sure where you put it, or where it got to, or you'd go right to where you left it and pick it up and put it in your pocket and it wouldn't be a big deal. But sometimes the thing you've lost is hard to describe. That thingamajig. That whatchamacallit. That -- what's the word? Hmmm. I can't quite put my finger on it.

I'm guessing it got misplaced somewhere between the third trimester of pregnancy, delivering a baby, having a husband gone and then sick. When you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, you don't really care whether your feet are pedicured or that your sandals are last season. You just keep putting one foot in front of the other, looking up every once in the while to make sure you're headed in the general right direction, but not really sure which way that is.

Then all of a sudden you realize that it's been months since you read a book for pleasure. Or taken photographs for the fun of it with that camera you so desperately wanted. Or written something that was outside your comfort zone. It's been since December that you hosted friends at your house. Even longer since you wore something you liked for a reason other than it was clean. Nevermind that your year-long sabbatical for motherhood is approaching an end, and you're craving the stimulation of a workplace that does not constantly need cleaning and the wardrobe of clothing that is not made by Old Navy.

The haze of the fourth trimester is lifting. Gage is thriving. Claire is adjusting well to sisterhood. And now, I want me back. Strike that. I NEED me back.

Change comes slowly. Still one step at a time, but now in the direction I want, towards goals beyond survival. I'm looking for a job. Digging into the stack of books accumulated on my nightstand. Making an effort to trim down the pregnancy weight and find clothes that fit my body and make me happy.  Taking walks whenever I can and taking pictures whenever the mood strikes me. Volunteering to host a baby shower on a moment's notice despite the fact that the house is dirty and the yard still needs a spring clean-up. Enjoying my last months as a stay-at-home-mom with trips to the strawberry fields and plans to make homemade jam, at the same time I'm writing kickass cover letters and hoping for a great career opportunity.

One day at a time, one decision at a time, I'm starting to feel like myself again -- sassy, smart, and on top of my game. There's a spring in my step, a smile on my face, a twinkle in my eye, and a hunger in my soul. I want more, and I'm about to reach out and take it.

I don't know where I lost it, but I know it's returned: Mama's got her mojo back.

Consider yourself warned.

Comments

[Bethany]

Congrats on getting your mojo back! It's gotta be a relief to feel like yourself again. I'm still looking for my mojo (my fourth trimester turned into a fifth, ugh), but I'm thinking the constant rain could have something to do with that. Strawberry jam and cover letters? Sound fabulous. :) Enjoy your spring!

[DBN]

Good! Go kick some ass!

[Christina]

That is great! I loved that feeling once I realized how much I missed it!! Go get 'em!!!

[Heather]

I love this post! I think it's awesome that you're taking some time to make the world about YOU again! Congrats on being an awesome Mom.

[Christina]

You Go Girl! I'm so proud of you! Hugs, C

[Sue]

I read this yesterday and laughed out loud.

My children (ages 11, 8, 5) finish my sentences for me. I talk R.E.A.L.L.Y. S.L.O.W. now and can't always find the words...and it's their fault sooooo it's sweet justice :)

In any case, I totally understand what you're talking about :)

[old horsetail snake]

That's terrific. I vote for you.

[Patti_Mayo]

I always prayed I wouldn't lose myself in being a mother and a wife but I did. I can finish my husband's sentences and thoughts. I'm working on getting myself one day at a time.

Congratulations for becoming you again.