If I were sitting down to have coffee with you right now, I fear I wouldn’t know what to say. I feel the same when I try and sit down and write something, like there’s nothing there. In truth, I think there is plenty there, it’s just buried under a whole bunch of other crap like must fill out that form for the health visitor, how can I get my child to eat more vegetables, need to put on another load of laundry (the 412th load today), need to make more time to exercise BUT THERE IS NO TIME, the house looks like we’ve been burgled, I need to do the meal plan and food shop (why does everyone need to eat all the damn time), need to order more clothes for the kids, we really should make time for a date night soon BUT THERE IS NO TIME, will we ever have an uninterrupted night’s sleep, I really, really just need a break and then I will be a calmer more regulated human but lol when, how am going to fit paid work into all of this, when was the last time that room was hoovered, it would be really nice to not be needed for like, 15 minutes…
You get the idea. If someone asks me how I am, what’s going on in my life, my brain goes blank. I instinctively want to say ‘nothing’ because I don’t feel like I have anything interesting to contribute. But ‘nothing’ could not be further from the truth. I have never had more going on, it just doesn’t necessarily equate to the most interesting conversation. I could joke that it feels like my husband and I are basically just affectionate roommates right now or that my New Year’s resolution to be better at replying to messages and therefore not feel like I am being absent and distance friend to people I love dearly is not going well, or that I’m currently recovering from a nasty bout of norovirus but honestly, I bore myself. You don’t wanna hear about all the vomiting? No?
I have felt a lot recently like I am drowning under the relentlessness of parenting two young children and there is absolutely nothing left in the tank for anything else. I want to point out that I’m drowning but it’s pointless because gotta keep going regardless and why waste precious free time saying this when I could collapse on the sofa and stare at the wall? I feel like the version of me that isn’t ‘mummy’ is hulking in the corner like a neglected house plant, dry brown leaves withering and curling. She needs more sleep, to stretch, to eat better, to take some deep breaths, spend time with her husband away from the children, partake in a few hobbies, unclench her jaw, moisturise. There aren’t enough hours in the day.
I love my boys like nothing else but after a winter of constant illnesses, never-ending rain and some big emotions from our eldest, I feel like I can hardly remember what it feels like to not be living in survival mode. I guiltily fantasise about sleeping without the glow of the baby monitor, waking up and not being immediately needed, a childfree holiday, watching series four of Bridgerton…
I know we need better balance and my return to work, and therefore having more childcare, may provide that. I know I need a breather; I know I need to remember I am a person outside of my children, I know it will be good to use my brain for something outside of parenting again. And yet and yet and yet… I feel just a little heartbroken at the prospect. Arthur and I have barely been apart for an hour or two since he was born and the idea that we won’t be hanging out every day kills me just a little bit. Every time I drop him off for a nursery settling-in session, his little face crumples and I come dangerously close to snatching him back, running home and declaring that I am giving up working to my bemused husband. And yet and yet and yet… As I finish writing this, I am sat alone in a café typing as the sun streams onto through the window and onto my table and there is delight in being alone for a little while. Motherhood is a constant contradiction of emotions.
Spring has arrived and it could not be more needed. I know it’s going to be a little bumpy as we settle into yet another new routine, but I am really, really hoping there will be more joy and, please DEAR GOD, less illness.
(And if that all seemed extremely moany, please know I am very aware this is all the rants of a very lucky privileged person. Sometimes you just gotta be like URGH for a mo you know? Here is a list of lots of lovely things from the winter, cos I’m still always trying to cling to the joy even when everything feels like A Lot.)
Comments