Power in the Pooch

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I'm pretty sure my reason for not committing to a particular blogging schedule is due to my inability to commit to any one hobby for very long without jumping to something new and different. 'Tis the life of a perpetual dreamer, even though I pray I'll soon grow out of it. Lately, I have been uncharacteristically low key. I've taken a break from the organic pops business I started last summer. I haven't taken on any new projects in almost 6 months much to the chagrin of several usually very convincing friends. In other words, ain't nothing up but the rent!

My paradigm has shifted. I am faced with the new and beautiful truth that I am now the warden for a little person who has completely taken over what used to be my body. As a result I have become very particular about the energy I expend on almost everything. I want him to have the best of me, not just the leftovers. So as his little body grows by leaps and bounds daily, and I in turn watch mine do the same, I've adopted a more domestic routine if you will. I cook more now than I have for my husband in the last 3 years. I do more cleaning around the house. My husband and I have more time at home together which I am so grateful for. I'm home almost everyday and don't leave until it's time to go to work or unless groceries or baby goods are needed. It's really quite a respite from my usual impulsive, compulsive, sometimes begrudging habit of being involved in too many things at one time. In spite of it all, I still find myself feeling that my life is somehow boring and uneventful and that I should be out there doing something with myself--guilt.

Practically speaking, I know that my body is definitely working for two. The rest I never thought I needed before can't come quickly enough these days. I crave the quiet and peace of hearing his heartbeat and of feeling baby tickles and wiggles all throughout the day. Somehow I still feel that I should be doing more. I wonder what type of example I'm creating for my growing boy and pray he won't be a lazy and lethargic little person. I pray he'll take the world by storm and show it what he's made of. But then again I am glad that I'm not overextended and worn out by my own self. Friends and family encourage my rest and say that I'll wish I had even more of it after he's born. I can't imagine wanting to sleep more than I do now though.

It all just makes me wonder if I'll ever have the drive I once had once my son is born. Maybe it's a growth that should be expected. Maybe I'll be one of those moms who wait til their kids are "out of school" before pursuing dreams that got put off long ago. That idea seems foreign and unlikely but I won't underestimate the power that a love as deep as parenthood can wield.