From Mother's Day to the Mother of All Days

This entry's theme: Transitions.

Today was Kya's first Mother's Day. And, apparently, she didn't forget to provide a gift: Last night, she slept uninterrupted though the night for the first time! Eight hours! Especially miraculous considering she never slept more than five straight hours before that. We're keeping our fingers crossed that this will remain a trend.

Because if it does, life gets easier for us, at least in the mental functioning capacity. I'm pretty sure I've builty an immunity to caffeine in only two months.

The day was also special for me. It was my mother's first Mother's Day as a grandmother - and she got to spend it with her mother, both her children, and - new to this year's edition - her two granddaughters.

Life has not been very easy for my mom in recent years. She's sacrificed life as she knew it to care for my grandmother, who is in advanced stages of dementia, for close to a decade until, after the latest frightening fall and subsequent trip to the hospital, finally came to terms that it was not fair for either of them for her to serve as the primary caretaker.

She entered a senior care facility last fall, and then another one a couple months later right down the road from my mom. Since then, she still receives daily visits from her for hours on end. Some days, she remembers her, some days she doesn't. Sadly, she hasn't recalled me for years now. And this is someone who was incredibly aware of her surroundings, extremely intuitive.

Both my sister and I are thankful that both our grandmothers were still around to witness their first great grandchildren. For our "Mom-Mom," she's gotten the chance to meet them in person, though each time they visit, it's like the first time for her again. My paternal grandmother, all of 95 years young and still, thankfully, sharp as a tack, gets weekly updates and pictures mailed to her by my mom to see their constant evolution from 1000 miles away. We both plan a visit down to Florida later this year to get all four of her great grandchildren together (all born within a year of each other), flanking the true matriarch of our family.

But back to my mom. Since the birth of her two grandchildren, I've seen a transformation. I've seen a sense of peace, after years of stress. She has truly embraced grandmotherhood. Regardless of our own parent-child trials and tribulations we've had in the past, that's exactly where it lies now. It's not about us anymore. There's a new generation to tend to. And it's brought us all closer together in ways I couldn't have imagined.

Missy even jokes that her relationship with my mother - which had its share of friction in the beginning - is probably better than mine, thanks in no small part to the bonding they've done together with Kya.

Okay, she's probably not joking.

And although it's not about the prior generations anymore when the newest generation arrives, I've realized that it still needs to be about me to some degree in order for me to be there for my child. It's the old phrase, "You're no good to anyone if you're no good to yourself." Therefore, there are certain aspects of my life that I need to focus on to ensure that I'm the best possible father: My health - mentally and physically, my career, and my family's financial well-being come to mind most. So I need to get my shit together.

I'm calling it being "selflessly selfish." And this rings more true in the coming weeks than ever before.

See, today was Mother's Day, but tomorrow might be even bigger. Missy goes back to work and I assume most of her daytime responsibilities. Yes, I'm going to be a Mr. Mom. Like Mr. Dad wasn't hard enough! It's going to be a tough transition for both of us. I can't emphasize what an incredible job she's done with Kya and what a bond they've created already in such a short period of time and I know the time away from her is going to extremely difficult.

For me, my balancing act has been a struggle even before throwing another ball into the air. Which means now more than ever, I can't neglect my own needs as well. For example, I haven't exercised since my daughter was born. I've been eating like crap. I haven't written a blog (since now) in nearly two weeks.

I'm no good to Kya if I'm no good to myself. If for no other reason than the necessity to lead by example.

So the Mother of All Days was today. But also tomorrow in a way, when another transition - one of many which have occurred already and many, many more which will occur in the future - takes place.

Most of these transitions have proven to be quite successful thus far: My grandmother's transition to a place where she can be cared for properly. My mother's transition to refound independence, from caring for her mother to embracing her new grandchildren and repairing her relationship with her own children.

And just like the nine months of bone-chilling fear and overanalyzing that took place leading up to the birth of my child, I'm pretty sure things will all work out in the end.

Just like with my mom.

Time flies when you're not as young.

Today's cliche that fits: Perception is reality.

It's been six weeks since Kya entered the world in grand fashion. For me, it's flown by. Yet the transformation which has taken place with her during that time is astounding. All I know is that life seems to have shifted into ludicrous speed and, besides acknowledging that my "2:30 feeling" seems to last all day and that the only period of lucidity I seem to have is in the middle of the night as I wait for her to awake (hence me being able to seemlessly use words like "lucidity" at 5:00 in the morning), I haven't had time to ponder much else.

Meanwhile, six weeks for Kya is literally a lifetime. It's been an eternity of infinite bottle feedings and changings and being passed along like a communal joint to endless family members and friends of family members and friends of those friends. I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to try and get us, her parents, to decipher what a particular cry is intended for, or if her grunts this time are attributed to the effort it takes to lift her bobbley-head, or if it's just another case of hardcore gas (she's her parents' daughter in that regard).

I would love to be able to read her mind every time she coos about, or stares at, nothing in particular. I want to be able to provide whatever she needs when she cries but refuses the bottle (on the very rare occasion) and still has a dry diaper. I'd pay to be able to see the world through her eyes right now. We all have at one point, of course, but those memories have long since faded.

And perhaps for a reason. Maybe it's an overwhelming thing to be overstimulated by so many new experiences. Maybe it's utterly exhausting to go through so many physical changes in such a short period of time.

All I know is that times like these, at crazy hours of the night when I finally have time to reflect on how different my life is compared to six weeks ago, it helps to put time into perspective. And it's refreshing when that time, as ludicrously fast as it's flown by lately, is spent watching a life gradually evolve before my eyes. Especially in times when I feel like my own is stuck in neutral.