Letting go

Control freaks like to think they hold the reins to their lives by making lists and sticking to the plan. Control freaks are rarely late for a meeting. They wake up before the alarm clock, if they sleep at all. Control freaks have a specific way of eating and exercising (think Meg Ryan in "When Harry met Sally").

Control freaks have trouble in relationships because they seldom change their minds and their ways. Objects have to be in their right places and people need to meet the right expectations. With a hint of OCD, this control freak here walks around the house playing a mental game called, "this doesn't belong here."

Now imagine such control freak arriving in her living room and the place is flooded with every battery operated baby fisher price product ever made along with diapers and bibs and pacifiers and burping towels taking over the couch. Now imagine that the power is out.

Someone once told me that having a child is an opportunity for a spiritual awakening. I thought they referred to the birthing process, which sort of upset me because that got screwed up royally by a very non-spiritual csection.

As I sit in the dark, my microwave, my tv, my pump, my iPad (that I forgot to charge) and the lights of the house off, I hold my baby upright so he won't spit up the milk I just gave him. And here are the thoughts that go through my head:

I gotta clean this place. When am I going to eat? How am I going to pump milk without power? Do I even have enough batteries to use the pump batery charger? Will baby let me pump? Will baby let me look for batteries? I will NOT give him formula! I can't give him formula. I need to do laundry. I need to work out. How many grams of fiber did I eat yesterday? I need to respond this email and that email. My windows look nasty. I smell like puke. I need to take a shower. When will I be able to take a shower? I need to buy candles. Did I lock the front door? I feel unsafe here in the dark. I should get a dog. How would I take care of it, though? I need to lose weight. I can feel my celullitis forming by just sitting here. Where is my cell phone? The food in the fridge is going to go bad. My expressed milk will go bad. I will not give him formula! Why is the power out? Some dush bag didn't do his job at the power company. What will I eat for lunch? I think baby just pooped. I hope it didn't get to his clothes again. I need to clean his clothes. How will I clean his clothes without power? Maybe his diapers are too small. Maybe I am feeding him too much.

Baby suddenly turns his face towards mine and I meet his gaze. With the faint light of the sunrise coming in, I can make his marble eyes staring at mine and I notice he is smiling, like a slap on my face. I smile back because I understand then that everything else is insignificant and that this moment is this moment, and it will never come back, even if I smell of puke and have to give him formula.