On a number of occasions I’ve found myself saying to my son age (almost) 3, “stop being selfish and go to sleep”. It has just dawned on me that in 12 years time I shall be saying “stop being selfish and wake up!” Let’s be truthful here, kids are basically selfish. They think the world revolves around them and most of the time, it does. My daughter aged (almost) 5 frequently wants things “now” and my son wants them “right now!” Not withstanding the fact that I’ve most likely got my arms full and obviously can’t do anything “now”, let alone “right now”.
This all applies until I desperately need something done “now.” Then they’re all terribly laid back and can easily mess around for a good 20 minutes putting a pair of shoes on the wrong feet, at which point I have to either succumb and drop everything in my over-laden arms, or risk bursting a blood vessel trying to convince them of the urgency of getting to school on time …for once! Of course I spend most of my time oscillating between feeling as though my whole world will come crashing down if I’m late just one more time and acknowledging that the world as I knew it has already been floored, so what does it all matter anyway in the grand scheme of things?
There are days when I sincerely wish I could be more laid back and care less about most things, but unfortunately, I’m just too anal to wish for anything other than the things most important to me, because I’m constantly thinking “careful what you wish for!” In reality, the older I get, the more anally retentive I become and being a natural born worrier (with a bit of “brought up by a single mother” warrior thrown in) just adds to the dilemmas of my daily life. I seesaw in character between Brie Vandecamp and Lynette Scavo. I’m the career woman turned stay-at-home mum who fluctuates between hysterical mother and Bakewell tart (and by that I mean bake a home-made tart well). My kids reflect my inner madness. My daughter is a cross between an overly cloned mini me on the anal front and a hoodie who runs around saying “bollocks” at varying volumes to gauge the effect it has on my temperament. My son meanwhile catches on fast to the hilarity of repeatedly saying something inappropriate such as “bollocks” while waiting in his high chair for lunch to be served.
All I can say at the end of a day, is this motherhood / parenthood lark is a lot harder than anyone ever let on. As with everything in life, one only appreciates what one had when it’s gone. I do miss the freedom and spontaneity I had pre-kids, although even then I doubt that “spontaneous” would have been the first word my friends would have used to describe me. All that said, I know full well that as hard as these years with young kids are, they will probably be the ones I miss most. The years when it only takes a cheeky grin or a touch of their exceedingly soft skin to melt your resolve. Although I already often feel as though I’m talking to a teenager while engaging with my four year old, the actual teenage years will undoubtedly be a lot harder …all the strife without so much of the cuddling to make up for it!
By Mummy Dearest
