This love is ours.

So I have to start off with yes, this quote comes from a completely schmoopy teen-angst love song by Taylor Swift.  But no, this post is not going to be some romantic mushy mess about Colin.  (Truth be told if anyone would have to endure familial remarks about the others' tattoos it would be Colin – not me.)  No, this song can absolutely reduce me to tears but for a completely different reason.

Every time I hear it, I think of Grady.

Weird, right?  To hear a love song and think of my infant son?  But let me explain. 

Part of my experience of motherhood so far has been wrapped up in a lot of frustration about the constant critique I find myself undergoing from what seems like all sides.  (You'll remember I had this same issue while pregnant.)  Everyone you've ever met has ideas about parenting (even people who aren't parents) and for whatever reason – they aren't shy about sharing.  You work hard to do what you think is best only to find out that someone you have a lot of respect for thinks you've totally screwed up your kiddo because of your approach to sleeping, feeding, playing, child care, or whatever else is on their agenda for the day.

It's really disheartening sometimes.

You see, my approach to parenthood is much like my approach to anything else.  It involves a lot of careful research, thoughtful consideration and then carefully selected and implemented actions.  I'm not just stumbling around in the dark hoping I don’t accidentally feed Grady cat food because well, oops I just wasn't thinking.  So when someone rips into some aspect of how I'm handling my baby, it can be pretty hurtful because the implication is that I don't care enough about my child to think about what I'm doing and make (what I think are) good choices.

So the reason why I love this song is because it reiterates something that I tell myself all the time about baby Grady: this love is ours.

The thing is – no one can ever understand a relationship when they're standing on the outside.  I know that there are a million ways to raise a child and that even people I love are occasionally going to disagree with the path I've chosen.  But my commitment is what matters – my intention, the inspiration for my actions.  Everything I do, I do for love – love of my son.  Others may disagree, or they may wish I'd follow a different course, but I have to follow the path that feels right to me, that feels like it honors what's best for him.

I'm working on building up a thicker skin in this area but in the meantime Colin and I have chosen to surround ourselves with the people who support us even if they think breastfeeding is overrated and organic baby food a waste of money.  They might gently chide us about things they think we should loosen up on but in the end they respect us and believe we're honestly trying to do right by Grady – and the reassurance that they see that in us gives me an incredible shot of strength when I need it most.

Being a parent is hard.  It's overwhelming at times and downright frightening at others.  I worry all the time about the choices I'm making and what their long-term impact on Grady could and/or will be.  All I want is to be able to give him the best shot at being the best version of himself that he can be – whatever and whoever that is.  Even now at just 6 months old, he is an adorably tiny person that listens and learns and responds.  I strive to always pay attention to what my actions could be teaching him and whether or not those are lessons I actually want him to learn.

And when I encounter one of those people that wants to explain to me that not allowing my toddler to drink soda will just be 'denying him the pleasure' I just smile and say 'yup – I guess I'm THAT mom' and in my head I think of this song and refocus.  This love is ours.  I know why I do the things I do – and I know that one day, Grady will know too and understand and perhaps even laugh with me at some of the things I worried over anxiously.  (And he may very well even be sipping a Route 44 Pepsi at the time – but darn it he'll at the very least be old enough to have ordered it himself!)

Beauty Bravery

As I've introduced the super-short hair to various groups of people (coworkers, clients, etc.), it has inevitably led to lots of conversations about bravery.  People have been telling me how brave I am for chopping off all my hair.  (Secretly I think that's their way of saying they don't really like it, i.e. 'It must've taken a lot of guts for you to get a haircut like THAT.')

What I keep telling them is just a simple response – 'I have a tattoo.  I permanently inked my skin.  I am in no way scared of a haircut.'  But in reality, there's so much more to it than that.

Have you ever had one of those times in your life where you find yourself squirming around in your skin, uncomfortable in your day-to-day existence but unable to quickly change it?  There's just this sense, somewhere down in your heart or at the back of your mind that you just don't quite fit in your current circumstances but you feel at a loss as to what to change or how?

That's where I am right now.  And it's oddball for me because there are certainly aspects of my life right now that I LOVE and couldn't imagine any different (being a mom for example, feels so incredibly natural and fulfilling it's almost impossible to describe) but there is just something… something nagging…

Thus the hair.  The joke in college was that you could always tell if I had recently been through a breakup just by seeing me – because my hair would be different.  I'd end some relationship and immediately call my stylist.  For the first few years of our marriage Colin still looked at me askance whenever I told him I had a hair appointment.

I've been planning this pixie cut for over a year so the decision itself wasn't made on the fly but the timing was definitely driven by an inner need to just DO SOMETHING.  To break out of the rut, to change my perspective, to see the world differently.  I began to feel this antsy-ness coming over me and I knew – it's time.  Time to chop it.

I realize at first blush it seems silly to talk about a haircut changing my perspective or allowing me to see the world differently but the truth is, in our beauty-centered culture, it's probably not so hard to see how such a drastic appearance change can change a person's outlook.  I often encourage my female friends to ditch their makeup or cut their hair to change their point of view.  If you change the way you look at yourself, how could you not change the way you see everything else?

The pixie falls into it this way – I need to see myself and my place in this phase of my life differently.  I need to be able to turn a more critical eye towards every detail so that I can find the one that's giving me grief.  How better to do that than to change the way that I see myself (both literally and metaphorically)?  And what easier way to do that than to strip away what can easily be such a large part of any woman's identity? 

A lot of this has to do, I think, with my needing to figure out where I am now in all this mom-ness.  Just as when Colin and I got married and I lost my 'me' into our 'we' for a while, I'm naturally having that same experience with baby Grady.  My life right now focuses on him, revolves around him, is all about him and that is, of course, how it should be.  But in order to be the kind of mom that I want to be for him, I have to also start taking the time to reestablish myself as a separate entity and figure out how to honor that person as well.  If I can't do it myself, I can't expect him to do it either.

But in order to do that I have to take stock of the changes that have occurred within me over the past six months (and longer) and figure out where they leave me as an individual.  There is more to me than motherhood – but what is it, exactly?  What does she look like and – more importantly – what does she want?

It's a harder question to answer than you might think – but I believe at least some of the barriers to the answer were left on the salon floor among the clippings.  I look in the mirror and I see a different me.  Now I just have to get to know her.