Author: patricerm

Before I became a mum I always imagined Mother’s Day being a day where all parenting expectations were put on hold. It was a day for breakfast in bed, handmade cards, flowers and dinner out. The house stayed tidy and the day ends full of love and happiness.

The reality is tantrums don’t stop, the calls for mama continue, the dishwasher still needs to be packed, bath time and nap time still have to happen. It goes on. It always does. I can ignore all the things that don’t have to get done today but they will still be waiting for me tomorrow.

So instead I put the load on, make the lunch, deal with the tantrums, clean it all up so it is ready for tomorrow. Because it all has to be done again tomorrow and the next day and the next. We do our chaotic bedtime routine, give out all the kisses and shout all the I love yous.

This time instead of collapsing into bed, I take some time and do my hair, make a cuppa in my new mug and sneak some of the milk tray chocolates.

I get to do what I have been wanting to do all day. I get in bed and feel my body relax. I smile to myself as I remember the hand made card my daughter hid under her pillow for days. I remember her asking me if today was Mother’s Day before she ran off to get the card from her hiding spot. (It was under her pillow – I make her bed everyday). I see her light up as she finally gets to hand me her surprise. I remember my little boy rubbing my face and telling me “oh mama”.

So today I will be grateful. I got another day with the two most rambunctious babies. I get to tell them I love them over and over. I get to hug and squeeze them again and again.

To the ones out there who thought this day would be different. The ones that find it difficult. The ones who do it anyway. The ones questioning if they have done enough. The ones who’s relationships are fractured or beyond repair. The ones who can never find the words. The ones just doing there best. I send you love.

Happy Mothers Day.

I wrote this just around your 4th birthday and now you are almost five.

You are suddenly four. In the past few weeks it seems you have just grown. Suddenly you don’t need to hold my hands as tight. You don’t need to turn back and look for reassurance when I drop you off to nursery. There was a night we sang ‘zoom, zoom, zoom’ for the last time.

You have grown into your big sister role and yet the past few weeks you have crawled into my lap and wanted to be rocked to sleep. You have wanted to rest your head on my shoulder as I carry you to bed. There has been baby talk and there has been these big beautiful sentences. There have been moments of frustration and happiness.

I will carry you to bed for as long as you need and we will sing ‘zoom, zoom, zoom’ at your request.

‘You’re my biggest, best friend mummy’. Me too darling, me too.

Happy 4th Birthday.

I wrote this just before my daughter turned four. She is now four and a half and much is the same and much has changed.

The last few weeks it is almost as if it is the first time seeing you. My almost four year old girl. My big girl.

I hope you know I see you. Your gentleness and kindness. Your deep sighs of someone much older then nearly four. I see you. Your shyness, your confidence, your need for reassurance and your fierce independence. I see you. I see how reserved you are, how lovely and kind you can be. I see the way you keep it all in. I see you.

I will read to you and kiss you goodnight for as long as you want me to. I will make you your cup of tea in your favourite Winnie the pooh mug, I will make your snack, pack your lunch and make your breakfast just the way you like it.

In our moments of frustration and my moments of impatience you always ask me ‘are you my best friend mummy?’.

‘You’re my best friend mummy’. Is your new favourite thing to say. It is my favourite too.

In moments of silence you tell me you love me. In moments of craziness you tell me I’m doing a good job.

You are certainly my best friend and I love you so much. My girl.

I wrote the following piece about a month ago. Reading this now – I feel like a different person. I am a different person and I am so proud and happy.

Sometimes it is waves. Sometimes it is a fleeting moment. Other times it is big. Sometimes it is small. But nearly always lingering and threatening. It comes heavy and quickly and slowly and all at once.

And then it is over. Until the next time. And each time I think I am prepared or I will be better at it. I fail every time.

But I have to ride the wave, try and catch it before it comes crashing down. Inevitably it does, it always does. It is anger. It is hurt. It is frustration and it is the heaviness of it all. It batters me and tenses my jaw. I feel it travel from my brain, sink into my teeth and then erupt into an angry and frustrated version of me with with bitter tears.

I am an excellent secret keeper. I can tie up my emotions and box them away for another day. Even when it crumbles I can still keep it all in. No one ever really knows.

And then I feel light again, the fog clears. I hope one day it will forever disappear.

I wrote this when our daughter was tiny. Still stands. Especially the nap times.

1. Fierce protectiveness. There is nothing like it. I can call her a devil child but as soon as I hear someone say “is she always like this?’ I have to fight every instinct not to reply with sarcasm. But until you have her all day everyday keep your opinion to yourself. Unless it’s to tell me how cute she is. 
2. Tiredness. I got quickly used to functioning on little sleep in the early days. And I’m used to just generally bring tired. However, at least once a month it all seems to catch up with me. The disturbed sleep, the worry, everything hits me at once. And I need a break. I usually get a small one and it makes a huge difference. 
3. Patience. I was never the most patient person but since having our baby, I seem to have zero tolerance. Tiredness plays a huge part of it. After picking up the hundredth sock off the floor, the never ending washing and the dishes I’m usually at my wits end. Or it’s the familiar cry of someone finishing there nap just as I’m about to sit down. 
4. Urgency. I seemed to have developed a sense of urgency for most things. I like things to be done quickly so things don’t pile up. But my husband doesn’t seem to have this sense of urgency. At all. And I pack lots of “in case” things.
5. Poo. It can get everywhere. And it stains. I also like to talk about it.
6. Googling everything. I have asked google so, so many questions. One of the most ridiculous “my 7month old won’t laugh”. She does now. A lot! And its the most beautiful sound.
7. Instincts. It’s amazing how in tune I can be with her. It took me a while to trust them.
8. Crying. It can get really annoying.  
9. Responsibility. This is the biggest one I have ever had. And the best. And the hardest. And the most rewarding. 
10. The washing basket will never be empty. Never. Ugh.
11. Hearing mummy 776 times before 9 am is almost like torture. Almost.
12. I really wanted to make this a list of ten things because its much neater and my favourite number but never mind. Shopping for a little girl is so. much. fun.
13. I thought of one more. Acceptance. The mum that is impatiently telling her toddler to hurry up, the mum that has her toddler scooped under her arms with the shopping bag in the other because she dared to leave the stroller in the car ( I have been there) and the mum that seems to be ignoring the constant call of mummy, try not to judge her. I guarantee her day has been hell so far.
14. Love. Because I know when you look at me, with your beautiful almond shaped eyes that you love me. And that is the most wonderful feeling. And in those moments I’m reminded that all the worries, the stress, the soft body, the exhaustion the everything has been completely worth it. Oh and nap time is a god send. 

I wrote this 7 months after having our daughter, she is now almost 3 (!) and even though I still have moments of ‘I cannot believe I have a daughter’ I am not in the same space I was when I wrote this. My daughter is the most wonderful thing that ever happened to us and below is a reminder of how far I have come. I think I will always struggle and I imagine most parents do. But oh my god I love her and I tell her every. single. day.

I became a mother 7 months ago. A mother. A mummy. A mama. And although I still don’t ‘feel like one’ I definitely have all the things that come with it. The soft body (I seriously cannot remember what I used to look like), my ridiculously soft boobs (I’m still coming to terms with this) and a soft arse (which is slowly coming back to what I remember and I’m very happy about this).

Amongst all of this a beautiful little girl was created out of love and made us a family of three. She has created a wonderful chaos, a permanently messy house and a kitchen full of bottles and lids and everything else.

But these 7 months have been far from easy. Hard is an understatement. Difficult doesn’t come close. I read a lot during my pregnancy and everything said the same ‘it’s hard being a mum but it’s the best job in the world’ and it’s a statement I now live by. Everyone’s journey is different. Ours has certainly been difficult and wonderful.

I remember the health visitor asking me so did you fall in love straight way or was it a slow burner? And I remember thinking to myself neither. I didn’t say this to her. Instead I replied both and waffled on about something until she seem satisfied. What she didn’t know was I had spent the last couple weeks crying, so incredibly distraught with the state of our house, the state of me and the state of my mind.

In those early days I was convinced something was wrong with me. He (my now husband) knew he loved our baby. Absolutely instantly. No question. I asked myself that every day. Do I love her? Why do I feel like this? I looked at her and was terrified about my feelings. I knew without a doubt that I wanted her to be safe and healthy and happy. I knew I was responsible for that and I loved that.

The first time this was put to the test was exactly a week after she was born. She was making a weird noise when she was breathing and we got taken to the children’s ward and they put her in the hospital cot. It had been a long night and we had been at the hospital all day. They clipped that thing on her finger that looks really scary and I’m still not sure what it does .(it all turned out fine and we found out the problem) But it that moment I cracked, I knew with everything I had that I didn’t want anything to happen to her. Ever. I guess that’s being a mum? Right?

More weeks followed and with the exhaustion came more tears and more confusion.

Fast forward to 7 months and I now know during those initial weeks following our baby’s birth that exhaustion both physical and mental took over my life and clouded everything. I also now know that I was so incredibly scared of falling in love with her. But,I had fallen in love with her the moment she was conceived, before we even knew she was a she, every movement, every worry, every pain. 

I unequivocally love my baby of course I love her and she is everything to us.

I was talking to a good friend of mine about all the annoying things you have to deal with when living with a man. It was the usual complaints about the lack of seeing any mess and the usual ‘I was just about to get that’ or the more popular ‘I’m going to do it later’.

Then I started talking about how much worse it gets once a baby comes along and how you kind of get used to this never ending mess. The viscous cycle of toys, nappies and random bits of food.

She then said something and it made me think. One of her friends had recently had a baby and had told her ‘he’s not the father I thought he would be’.  It made me think. A lot.

I guess none of us know the type of parent we will be. I certainly didn’t. I had a very good idea about the type of mum I would be and I did not live up to my expectations.

However, there wasn’t one part of me that was uncertain the type of father our daughter would have. And he has proved me right since the day she was born.

He has the kind of patience I wish I had. He has a constant sense of calm that I have never had. And in those first weeks after she was born, he was right by my side during those night feeds (more like never ending feeds) and changing her nappies (again never ending).

As the weeks turn to months we have a good system going. We’re a good team him and I. He does the clean up after dinner and I do bath times. 

Does he always ‘forget’ to clean the highchair? Absolutely yes. 

Does he always chuck the nappy anywhere besides in the nappy bin? Without fail. 

Does he make an incredible amount of mess or leave a trail of clothes behind him, when he does do bath time? Always. Every. Single. Time. 

And do I get annoyed? God yes! 

But hearing my friend say that reminded me he is an exceptional father. I probably don’t tell him enough.

Does he come in every single day with a smile a kiss for his girls? Absolutely yes. 

Does he have the most fun with her? Without fail 

Does our daughter save her biggest smiles and laughs just for him? Always.

So he doesn’t always hear her on the monitor (hardly ever), he can sleep through pretty much anything and he sometimes has a one track mind. That’s okay. Because he is exactly the type of father I thought he would be. And I wouldn’t be the mother I am without him right by my side, every single step of the way.

I can live with the constant mess (kind of), the hidden nappies and the left over dinners on the floor (as I’m sitting here I find a old piece of green beans).

None of it really matters. What matters is when exhaustion finally takes over and he knows I can’t do anymore. When he knows I just need a break to breathe. When he lets me eat my dinner with both hands. When he lets me buy another outfit for her. When he gets me out the house. When he calls me a super mum. That is all that matters. 

But most of all when he picks me up from weeks of broken sleep and 30 second showers. When he runs me a bath and tells me to stay in it. When he loves me even though its been days since I brushed my hair. And most importantly the way he loves our daughter.

So, I will try and not panic and maybe he can try to put the nappy in the nappy bin.

But that’s okay because were a good team.