Day 214: Where are my milestones?

The other day, a friend asked me how I was and I answered, "Oh, good. Maddie has a runny nose." Later that evening, I found myself mulling over this reponse and eventually concluded that I am in the midst of an identity crisis. Well, perhaps not a crisis - nothing so grave or dramatic - but just a bit of confusion. I mean, somebody asks about my life and all I can think to say is that my daughter has snot coming out of her nose? Seriously? And even now I can't think of anything else to offer, although surely there must be something. Surely there is something more to my life than just motherhood? (Disclaimer: before anybody gets offended or outraged, I don't mean "just" motherhood in a bad way, it's just that there used to be a lot more going on).

It's not like my pre-baby life was full of amazing accomplishments and accolades. I didn't win any peace prizes. I wasn't on an impressive career path. But I did go to work, go to the gym, meet friends for lunch, go out with Fernando. I read the newspaper, planned dinner parties, shaved my legs. Now I wander the mall, go for walks, wander the mall, do a load of laundry (and then redo it because I always leave the wet clothes in the machine so long they start to form mold), wander the mall. These are my milestones. Meanwhile Maddie is on the road to monumental achievements: sitting, crawling, talking (okay, she's admittedly got a ways to go on the last two, but still). So I guess when people ask how I'm doing it seems more suitable to talk about Maddie's accompishments than my own - it's somehow more impressive to say "Maddie's blowing raspberries now" than "I washed my coffee mug this morning."

I'm not even mourning my past life - don't get me wrong, there was definitely a time that I did, but I'm past that stage. There are really cool parts to this motherhood gig: laughing with her, seeing her smile, watching her learn new things. But I feel like there's been some kind of role reversal - when Maddie was first born it felt like she was an extension of me; now it's more like I am an extension of her. I guess I'm just a tad worried that I'm already living vicariously through her. Tempting though it may be, I can't have her life become my own. I have visions of myself getting dressed up to chaperone her grade 8 sock hop, hoping the cute science teacher will ask me to dance while she cringes in the corner and tells friends she's adopted. I have to curb this trend while I'm still able to. The question is, how?

On a sidenote, Maddie fell off the couch yesterday... again. It was a three part tumble: from sitting, to the footstool, to the floor. And then this she morning worked her way out of the Bumbo and ended up face down on the counter. Luckily I was right there for that one. Funny how these incidents that seem so horrifying at first quickly just become part of life.