The qualitative difference

So, what with the New Year having rolled around, my schedule is back to normal and as is my yearly tradition, I've been pondering the upcoming year and how I would like to shape it.

2009, however, is the first year I have begun as a Mother, and I have found it makes all the difference.

In a normal year previous to this one, I would have had a resolution, say to blog more (and no, unfortunately that is not one of my resolutions. I'm afraid I'll be as bad this year as I was last year).

Having decided upon a resolution, I would have laid out my schedule for the upcoming year and systematically worked out how to fit time for each resolution. It was always so satisfying to piece the various aspects of my life together, jam-packed tight like a jig saw puzzle, but so neat and efficient. "Blogging", for example, could have been sandwiched with "working out" in the two hour break between my 7:40 class and my 10:40 class on MWF. Every hour of my day was laid out, and though I didn't always follow it through 100%, just knowing that every goal was quantified and in its place was reassuring.

As usual, this year I made my sweet list of resolutions. As I was trying to parcel out my day to various and sundry activities, all quantified in neat little packets, it occurred to me that one of my greatest goals, Motherhood, has thrown a wrench into my perfect, reassuring system. As I watched the hours in between my resolution-oriented tasks disappear, it occurred to me that a) those were my Rylan hours that were dwindling and b) who am I kidding? All the hours are Rylan hours.

To illustrate my point, even as I type this, I am doing it one handed, holding Rylan on my lap as he drips cracker crumbs onto the carpet under the desk and struggles to pound on the keyboard.

Motherhood cannot be quantified. It is qualitative, and yet I need to fit it into my quantitative world.

Don't get me wrong. This doesn't mean that I am dropping all my resolutions or throwing the whole planning idea out the window. I refuse to become a mother that becomes completely stagnant in the name of her posterity.

To be honest, I don't even know what this means yet. All I do know is that this is a major paradigm shift for me and that I may need to rework my definition of success a little bit. Though I believe every mother comes to this realization at some point, I have a feeling that success is different for every one and how they order their life to become a successful mother is also unique from one individual to another.

I probably won't figure it out anytime soon. Maybe I never will. But in the meantime, I'll work on my goals with Rylan in my lap and maybe a crumb or two under the desk.