I love being a Mother!
There – I’ve said it! And for the most, it’s true…so, if by change you doubt this come the end of this blog, please remember to return to this bit here where my positivity glares obviously and bluntly.
I do love being a Mother – nothing quite compares to the feeling of being in the presence of your children, feeling their love, their unconditional, unjudgemental, eternal love.
But I can’t deny it any longer…man, it’s hard!
Whilst my children were babies, I think I sufficiently managed to put my head down and plough through the tough parts (albeit done with a lot of crying on my behalf). I envisaged by the time they were they age they are now…I’d have some peace restored. Can you believe how incredibly naive and ignorant I was?
It feels like I’ll never know peace again!
Picture silence, long lie-ins on Sunday mornings, summer days relaxing in the garden…late nights, friends dates, dining out at 10pm because you were hungry (and obviously unrestricted by social ideologies of perfect bedtime routines)!
I can’t remember the last time I even dared be out of the house after 6pm with children in tow, the aftermath of a broken, spontaneous jolt from routine has bitten us once too many times. Then there’s the judgemental glares of childfree onlookers to contend with!
I recall one evening when our son was maybe 4 months old; we’d met with friends during the day but still being out at 6.30pm, we decided to head to the closest Indian Restaurant. Tristan was still at the stage of sleeping most of the day. He cared very little about where he guzzled his bottle or closed his eyes so taking him with us seemed natural and unproblematic – yet I remember leaving said restaurant an hour later enraged to the point where my hands itched. The couple sat beside us thought it was completely out of order having a young child out so late (7pm by this point) and felt the need to tell us so. Since then, I’ve dared very little to take my toddlers out passed their ‘apparent’ bedtime.
This results in me being ‘housebound’ most evenings from 6pm. Although my Husband would undoubtedly grant me leave on social occasions, my role of Mother means most nights I just crack on and carry out my duties…no questions asked. Preparing tea, running baths, reading stories, locating lost dummies, scaring away imaginary wolves…have all become part of my own routine, part of my life. It seems like a long time ago I arrived home after work and decided to do something I actually wanted/enjoyed.
To add insult to injury, I’ve been ‘Mother’ for so long now that I actually believe my own Husband has forgotten I’m real underneath it all! He seems to have the opinion that I stroll around on my days off doing things I WANT! That’s right pet, my idea of fun at 30 definitely entails crawling through miniature tunnels, playing on swings, jumping in puddles and rolling down hills. Yep, in my time off, I’d apparently choose soft play, toddler groups, playparks and farms. He’s obviously forgotten my love of shopping, sipping champagne in the sun and trips to the cinema (not to watch Peppa Pig).
I remember a time when I once enjoyed my own company! I mean, who else looks after you quite like YOU? Reading a book, just sitting in silence contemplating the world, making plans…I could do it forever! These days, I rarely get to pee in peace! From morning until noon…I have either one or two little humans attached to my side. Even when they’re sleeping, the dog seems to take their place, squeezing in his ‘Mam’ time undisturbed by mini terrors!
Don’t get me wrong – I want to reiterate what I said to begin, I love being a Mother…but for crying out loud, can’t I just at least pee in peace?