Some times I wish that I could be one of those people who roll out of bed, fresh faced and tidy of hair, bounce down the stairs, grab a travel mug of coffee and leap into the new day. I however, am not that person and I don't mind admitting I am pretty bloody grumpy when I wake up.
I wake up in a morning, usually fresh from some bizarre dream or other (the winner of last week was that I dreamed I was cuddling a ready made lasagne, it turned out to be my wheat bag for my sick shoulder), sporting a hair do that looks like it has been partying all night. It defies gravity and tangles itself up so badly that only the strongest of conditioner will coax it straight again. Then comes the blow dry, the make up and the liberal application of coffee and toast. And thats the easy part.
Afterwards its all repeated again, minus the blow dry and makeup with a four year old who has an equally as unfortunate hair line as me and the ability to sleep through a nuclear disaster. I used to find it easy to dress him, brush his teeth and bundle him in to the car still asleep if the day called for it but now I can barely lift him and have ensured many a painful pulled muscle trying to do so. Now there are arms and legs everywhere, crocodile tears and whines of "I am tired" and "I want to stay in bed, Mummy". He is hot and bothered and I am usually the same, the blow dry and the makeup already beginning to look tired.
Always though, by 7.25, we are bundled up in the car, just five minutes before nursery opens its gates and takes the boy, who is now miraculously wide awake and generally chatting away happily, while I go to work. Generally to listen to other peoples kids complaining and whining all day.
Despite the whining from my own and others kids I love to go to work. Working has made me a better parent. I am more patient and more rested. My brain has something other to do that play and be repetitive all day.
I was very disappointed in myself when I realised, not that long in to motherhood that I wanted to go back to work. I was lucky, I had taken two years off with a view to taking some more if I fancied but then I found myself in a new situation, that of a single parent, and the need to go back to work was not just one of want but one of necessity. The necessity to work has been one of the best things to come out of a traumatic situation. By brain is stimulated and I have made new friends. I now look forward to coming home and hearing about his day, rather than already knowing because I was there all the time, I tell him about my day but more often than not he is more interested in raiding the fridge for a pre-dinner snack or watching Scooby-Doo. I tell him anyway. Then we eat, he takes a bath - washing himself, the walls and the carpet in one fell swoop and then we settled down to stories, or sometimes a treaty half hour on the iPad (we are both suckers for Angry Birds).
I was having a discussion with my friend the other day about parenting. He has no kids of his own and admits he has a completely different view on parenting than me. The side of parenting he has seen has been as the fun Uncle - the wind them up and send them back to their parents wound like coiled springs type - the reality, as he is finding is, completely different. You wind them up, then you have to deal with them when it all gets too much. The saying "it always ends in tears" it probably the truest sentence ever uttered. He is very much like I was before I became a parent, full of ideas and opinions but when the opportunity arises to demonstrate them with a real life kid, it quickly becomes apparent that much of it will be tossed out with the bath water.
It makes me laugh now when I think back to what kind of mother I WAS going to be. I was going stay at home, barefoot, making bread and meals from scratch - never letting a packet of sweets or crisps pass his lips, while teaching my kid absolutely everything while keeping a beautiful home - tidy but the sort that he would WANT to bring all his friends home to.
After a few weeks it became apparent that it was not going to happen. There isn't anything like a real life toddler to bring you down to earth with a big, fat bang. I lived on sandwiches and baked beans and soup for ages because, quite simply, I was so tired that anything else felt like being a contestant on Masterchef. My temper was not quite up to Earth Mother standard, and I discovered that there was only so many times in a day that I could listen to a Fisher Price walking aid singing a song about a dinosaur without wanting to throw it out the window. I longed for a full nights sleep and a read of a novel.
It is considerably easier now, we know each other better - I think that parenting is alot about getting to know each other. I had lived a pretty selfish life for almost 35 years before he arrived and he was small and unable to understand that it wasn't all about him too. He has a little temper that he is slowly learning to control (even though it runs amok when he is tired or hungry) and I have learned to try to let it run and burn out. I love the fact that its me he runs to after nursery or when I collect him from a friends house and that each and every day he tells me how much he loves me and gives me a vice like cuddle before he falls to sleep. I love the fact we can sit at the table and play game after game of Connect 4 and Snakes and Ladders, make a disgusting brown mess out of coloured paint and play the adding up game with just about anything. I know he isn't particularly bothered when I tell him about my day but I know he loves the fact that if he is tired and just wants to get under his blanket on the sofa I will be under there with him too. I can pretty much count on him these days to let me have a good nights sleep and if he doesn't then I know its because there is a reason behind it so I don't care to mind.
I don't think there is ever a feeling of love like the one you have for your kids.
Oddly enough, since returning to work I am actually starting to feel like the mother that I thought I would be. We eat well, play well and we have even been known to throw a bit of bread dough about from time to time. My home could be tidier but I am willing to let that go for weekends of playing in the park - I can still see over the top of the ironing pile so its not that bad......
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| Life smells pretty sweet....... |
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