Oh yeah, I have absolutely no self-motivational skills.
I have skipped three days of NaBlogWritingMo and have yet to begin on the novel stuff. Oops. I've got to figure how to motivate myself! Eh, who am I kidding? It will happen when it happens. . . . and knowing me, not anytime soon!
Last Saturday was my 10 year HS reunion. It was also only the third time in Bjorns short life that I have left him with someone else for more than two hours.
The first time was less than 2 weeks after his birth, when Grandma watched him so Daddy and I could go out to celebrate my birthday. It was heaven for me, as I was an emotional wreck for the first six weeks, but Daddy missed him immensely.
The second time was when Bjorn was 3 months old and I had a bachelorette party that lasted all weekend. This almost doesn't count, for Bjorn spent the weekend with his Daddy. It's not like I left him at a baby-sitter's all weekend. But I didn't see him for almost three whole days.
Then, this last time, I left him at 7 pm and returned home at 1:30 am.
Mama had some fun.
Being a Mama, I knew that Bjorn was going to be giving me an early morning wake-up call. I knew that if I wanted to be in top form, I needed to be home early so I could get a good night's rest and be able to deal with him.
But I also knew that if I didn't take advantage of this baby-sitting opportunity and milk it for all that it was worth, that I would regret it. I need that social time.
Turns out, I am actually a better Mama when I have gone out, partied hard and only slept for three hours before my crying alarm clock goes off.
When I woke up at 5 am, I immediately took Bjorn, soothing and calming him. Seeing as we were both still sleepy, I took him into bed with me, where he promptly fell asleep cuddled against me. From then until 9 am, Bjorn would wake up once an hour, and we would play and tickle for about ten minutes before he would fall asleep on me again.
I actually had fun. I didn't mind when he woke me up. I didn't mind when he wanted to play. I even didn't mind when he cried a little. Because I knew that I had gone out and had a blast the night before.
Moral of the story?
Take those nights out. Take that time away. Let someone else deal with the crying and the pooping and let someone else have fun with the playing and the laughing. Get away.
What makes you a better Mama?