Comic-con is tomorrow, and this will be my 10th year attending. Usually this is my happiest time of the year, but this time around feels almost like a chore. Am I just getting old? Attending one-too-many and the novelty is wearing off? Or maybe it’s having a kid, and the thought of lugging around a 10-month-old at an all day event is taxing. Actually it’s D) All of the above.
Working on a cosplay for the three of us has been distressing. Usually making my costumes starts out very zen and then only later escalates to scrambling on the finishing touches. But this time, for its entirety that I’ve been stitching, gluing, painting, has been filled with apprehension. I’m pinning this emotion on motherhood. I’ve never really been an apprehensive person, but now , most things I do that is outside of the daily norm makes me feel that way. Why? Why does motherhood do that? Clearly, I’m assuming it effects other mothers the same, but maybe it’s just me. It irks me greatly that I’ve gone from a “just wing it” kind of person to following a strict baby schedule–but that’s what makes it easier to be a parent right? And God knows we need to do whatever we can to lift that sense of burden.
Burden. Yes, I said it. And no, I don’t mean that Novalee = burden, so unclench. I am saying that having a kid (and kudos to those who are juggling more than one, you crazy peeps) is SO. MUCH. MORE. EVERYTHING. than anything else I’ve ever had or done. It’s draining; I feel like an iPhone, where with each passing month, I don’t hold my charge as well, and am functioning even shittier than I did the previous month. It’s chaotic. It’s physically demanding. My shoulders, back, and wrists haven’t stopped aching the last 10 months. I can’t remember the last time I woke up feeling refreshed. This is just the type of the iceberg; we haven’t even reached the 1 year mark yet. One could only imagine where my mental and physical state will be at in 5 years.
I need to learn how to shrug off these daunting thoughts and focus on the positives. I’m a firm believer that attitude is everything. Alex is clear example of this–Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, hardly a care in the world. Odds tend to lean in his favor, troubles slide off his rubber-enforced back, and he sleeps so well at night. Meanwhile I’ve aged a decade in the last 10 months, and he’s somehow managed to look younger. Oh sorry, am I starting to sound bitter? Only slightly. I’ll need to repeat the mantra that I love my Husband, and til death do us part. Gotta make the most of it since we both are very much alive and kicking, or in my case, thrashing.
Seems like I’ve reformed my thoughts, or at least come to some type of conclusion since the start of this post. To practice what I’ve just preached, woo-hoo Comic-con! Looking forward to dressing up as a favorite character, attend panels for information we could later Google, and spend some monaaays.
Alright, I can’t be rid of the sardonic approach, but give me points for trying okay?