To my precious girls,
Yesterday, I took a moment to marvel at the three of you as you splashed around in our tiny, makeshift bathtub. It is a rare moment when I switch off to the demands of the day and just sit, taking in your innocence and childish antics.
I spend most of the day instructing and reprimanding you, making requests of you and pushing back when you overstep boundaries. I use so much energy focusing on how to make you well-balanced adults, I often forget to appreciate these precious few years of you being my babies.
By putting so much pressure on myself to raise you as best I can, it’s no wonder I wake up thinking about what time I can get back into bed at night. The grind of the daily routine can honestly be a slog. But when I remember, I stop and breathe you in. When I rock you to sleep because you’re overtired, or you ask for a cuddle or “uppy”, I embrace a moment of peace and pray a silent prayer of gratitude for you.
You’ve changed me. I spent many years finding myself, becoming comfortable with who I am and learning what makes me unique. Then you all came along and I, quite honestly, am not sure who I am anymore. Sometimes I like who I have become and other times I wish to be different; a better mother, a more attentive wife, a more dependable friend.
Each day, when you are all tucked up in your beds and I have space to breathe and relax, I feel a mixture of relief and loss. You’re safe in your beds, my duties for the day are done – now what? What did I do in my spare time before it all became about you? Those hours of “freedom” can feel like a harsh reminder of how my life has become all about you three.
I’ve exchanged novels for parenting books.
I’ve traded Ottolenghi-inspired meals for pea and ham risotto. Every. Single. Week.
Where I once sewed for pleasure, now I mend ripped trousers.
Sorting and decluttering used to be a therapeutic activity but it has become a necessity because toddlers love to empty drawers.
I used to walk everywhere. I would walk rather than drive because it meant exercise and fresh air. Now it entails herding three children and dishing out snacks along the way. Now we drive.
The beach used to be for reading magazines in the sunshine and the occasional dip when I could no longer stand the heat. These days, an outing to the beach requires a small trailer and extra people to ensure no children drown, even while armoured from head to toe in floating devices.
I took free time for granted. Now it promotes panic; I don’t want to waste it. And that is exactly what I end up doing because the anxiety paralyses me.
Yet, when I dig deep to try and uncover who I am – who I have become – I find I am quite content with simply being your mother.
There is just about enough of me for that task right now but, realistically, not much left for anything else in this season. Because you are all so little and you need me for almost everything. This is both a comfort and a burden. The beautiful paradox of parenting hovers like an omniscient presence over every moment, of every day.
If I do nothing else but spend a few moments each day enjoying you, showing you love and smiling at your childishness, I will feel I am making the most of these precious years. The time will come again when I have hours, perhaps days, at my leisure. But I will miss you all terribly.
Please grow up, but not just yet.
Life would be so much simpler if you would do things for yourselves but I hope, in some ways, you will always need me.
Is it too much to ask that you all learn to sleep through the night? Just don’t deprive me of midnight cuddles entirely.
I can’t wait until you’re all at school. Only, the house will be so quiet during the day.
The ambiguity of parenting can cause such turmoil and conflict in one’s mind and heart. I hope you will forgive me when I shout instead of hugging or saying “I love you”. Or when I prioritise chores over pretend cups of tea. Or when I say I want to walk out the front door on my own and never come back but my heart would never allow me to do that. Ever.
You see, the “old” me grieves for a simple life while the new “Mummy” me can appreciate the adventure of life with you. Parenting is entirely paradoxical; imperfect, messy and sometimes chaotic but, like you three, it is also simply beautiful.
Love,
Mum