Welcome to the 39th issue of the #beingamother project! This week taking the floor is one of my newer blogger loves Gumdrops & The Bear a.k.a. Helen who in her knack for telling it like it is, seems to be taking the words right out of my mouth in her no B-S account of what being a mother really means. Never was motherhood more perfectly summed up to me than with this sentence – “bodging my way through with fish fingers and crusty play doh”. Read on for more gems!
Being a mother means…
- A heart bursting with more pride than I have ever felt for myself, at every small moment: the bear conquering his phonics, gumdrops plodding confidently into nursery etc
- Thinking “I will be a better mum tomorrow” after a fraught bedtime
- Finding bloody Wally if it kills me
- Singing Let it Go for the 1007th time and smudging all the words in to “dacolnerbovmenyway”
- Responding obligingly to “my bot itchy” (poised with the tissue dart)
- Coping with the 3 things I cannot bear: sleep deprivation, a child covered in vomit (my 2nd biggest fear) and a wall of noise
- Stepping on Lego when I go in to kiss my little boy and managing not to swear very loudly
- Trying to guess what tune gumdrops is tunelessly slaying in that special nasal tone (white-noise come back, all is forgiven)
- Hoping when they walk through those gates that they have friends and are liked
- Studying your child’s face to see if they’re tired/ill/sad/happy and wanting to fix them/celebrate with them
- Remembering to bring Bear Yo Yo on the school run and placating the screaming over both wanting ‘the card’ (which they chuck on the floor within 5 mins)
- When they are hurt it physically hurts me. I want to take it away
- When they are beaming with happiness I want to cry (weird right?)
I still cannot believe I baked these two buns in my clever stretchy oven. How can *THAT* lead to this…. I now have a proper important job. My CV will never show my proudest and hardest-won achievement: mother to the greatest things that ever lived.
I suddenly feel like a grown-up. I was waiting for the moment to come. After baby #1 I was still in the shiny-sleep deprived, ‘look what I made’ zone. But now I have two babies to keep alive and make endless choices for: visit doctor/hospital, ready for own bed, childminder/nanny, nursery, school. I have to feed them well, keep a roof over our heads and hardest of all let them go slither by slither.
Yes I’m bodging my way through with fish fingers and crusty play doh. But we are also singing, dancing, laughing, reading and cuddling our way through it all. I try to remind myself, our parents’ generation drank and smoked in pregnancy, fed us solely on jars of baby food and as toddlers we only had jam sarnies and cake for tea. Yum. So if I’m alright after that, then these two should make it through. Our generation is all-knowing and therefore sets very high standards for how our babies should be fed, cared for and developed.
Just before my lovely father passed he told my sister and I that we were his masterpieces. He used to look at me and say ‘how did I make something so lovely’? Now I know exactly how he feels.
Discover previous editions of the #beingamother project here.