I found the post below in my drafts folder earlier this week. My own words surprised me, because right now it’s all so different – Orla is in a ‘sunshine child’ phase, & we’re skipping along pretty happily in one other’s rhythm. It’s joyful, & all too easy to forget the days when it isn’t this way – especially if I edit them from my postings here. & so with that in mind…
Having one of those days where I struggle to differentiate being mum to a toddler from being a slave to a tiny and entirely unreasonable dictator. Having a lot of those days lately, if I’m honest.
Coat thrown on the rainy path? ‘Pick it up mummy‘. Cartoons on the iPad – ‘Mummy do it‘. As in, hold this at my eye level until further notice, Mummy. Wipe my nose, cuddle me on cue, stick post-its on the bedroom floor with me, get me a drink, get me a different drink, clean up this drink I just poured on the floor. Mummy mummy mummy.
I’m being unfair – she’s actually pretty angelic – but it’s so tiring to always be hers and never my own.
The problem with parenting is, there’s no way out. Even when you think you really really would quite like there to be, you look at your tiny beautiful girl and realise your world is changed forever, and a life without her is too awful and unthinkable. Trapped, doomed to a life of fierce love, with lidless felt-tips, snotty noses and discarded bread crusts on the floor of the car.
It will pass of course, and things will change. Probably, we’ll decide we miss it and want to do it all again.
But it isn’t all sunshine and roses, it really isn’t, and anyone that tells you it is is either a liar or a much better person – and parent – than I am.
In Northumberland, the sky is a different blue. It's icier somehow, fresher than our Yorkshire cerulean, and on rainy days it is the cold, bright grey of steel. The hills are amber and green, the [...]