This is not my child.... but i know him and he is wonderful.
This is not my child…. but i know him and he is wonderful.

I have been so many different types of a person.

I’ve been a child, an abused child, an experimental awkward teen, a Young mum, a single mum, a married mum, possibly alcoholic, possibly a bad mum, sometimes a good one, i’ve been lost, found, dazed and confused, ive been certain and sure and possibly more . But for most of it i just feel like i’ve always been ‘mum’. It’s the one thing i do that i know i’m doing ok at. Ok at it means, it is possible that they don’t eat enough greens, and eat way too much bread, i ask Wheels to do heaps of things for me all the time, and I use their clothing to wipe snot.

Do I define myself by the title of ‘mum’ too much. I’m more than a booger wiping, yelling snapping banshee surely? or am i just a mum?

I feel like this title consumes me, it overwhelms the ideas of the expectations i place on myself. I have baby worn, co-slept, breastfed past the age of two, i’ve natural birthed, I’ve soothed and adored, protected and smothered. I’ve done wonderful things for my relationships with my children. Yet I have also smacked, yelled, and ignored, i’ve pushed and sworn and cried in frustration. I have done things to hinder my relationships with my children. Right now, i’m in a phase of motherhood where i feel too overwhelmed with my own emotions to deal with theirs which usually results in theirs being ignored. I’m stressed, anxious and over touched by small sticky hands. My own problems have been taking over.

My healing is hindering my kids. How do you balance it?
How do you keep the squalor from your house, who takes out the smelly shit filled rubbish, who does the ‘neverending story’ pile of washing that Artax drowns in? Who cleans the floors with the egg on them that Batman never cleaned up? Who changes the pissed in bedding from the toilet training toddler. Who picks up those dinosaur shaped duplo blocks again and again.

How can i heal with all of this on top? WHO the EFF does this, and still has time to heal themselves and look after children and still finds the time to sit down for a hour or two to write blogs with that well deserved coffee? I do. The mum.

I only just manage myself now, because i have to. My children may not have all my time dedicated to ensuring every single one of their tears are mopped, or every scratch and scrape is anxiously tended to with a sticker, a band-aid and a high five. I don’t always listen to them and the gibber that they spill from those always open holes on their faces, or spend the time listening to things i should. I don’t spend time with them, i hate paying kids games, i won’t lie, i don’t enjoy playing. Don’t even get me started on mum and child arts and crafts. That just instills too many anxieties.

Right now Moo is leaning over me saying “What’s that number” to every letter on the keyboard while Little Flea is sitting next to me saying “i want more crackers I WANT more crackers”, over and over again, oh and now she’s crying again. Wheels is asking me how to spell something he already knows how to spell. That ALL happened  while i wrote this paragraph. NO MORE CRACKERS! Shut the eff up.

Then sometimes you surprise yourself and see something inside them. A glimmer of the incredible intelligence of the middle one, or when you see the innocence in your daughter’s tiny little face and vow to yourself to ensure no harm will come to her because you want to keep her innocence in her forever and when you realise your little first born is the biggest kid and knows so much more than you give him credit for.

You then realise that you did that. You made them. You put those things there. Your love, your sparkle, your awful habits and brilliant ones are all there inside these tiny humans.  They are you and you love them for everything they are, and that they love you with the same devotion, despite your shortfalls or long falls off of mountain tops.

I am lucky and i am grateful for them every day because they have given me something to live for.

Then you realise, “I am Mum”. I will always be mum, even after i find me.

8 thoughts

  1. Wow, could have written that myself. Only id probably flog myself to death first! I always worry about my choices and decisions, when I swore I’d never let them eat McDonald’s or have TVs in their room – epic fail. When it’s all too noisy and I shout SHUT UP to them all, and act like a drill sergeant in the mornings. Sometimes I’m cool mum, other times I’m tired bitch mum. I hate that the mood swings and lack of sleep can have such a ripple effect on the kids. I worry that they’ll be in therapy as adults recalling the times that I used to spend days in bed or screech over silly things, or storm down to the principal’s office because one of them got hurt on his watch. But then, they all seem smart, well adjusted kids. Funny, loyal, caring and aside from the occasional slip of a swear word – quite normal. So either I just got lucky, or perhaps I’m not doing quite as bad a job as I think. And I think we need to own the fact that we work pretty bloody hard. We have a lot to deal with. So much energy we need to find and give, but not many ways to replenish.

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  2. I love the line “My healing is hindering my kids. How do you balance it?” I wish I knew. I so often feel like I am bad mom, screaming mom, swearing mom, tired mom, frustrated mom. I worry that it is all my kids see somedays.

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