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The Mum Who …

Yesterday, I was The Mum Who had to work at 7am.

I was The Mum Who didn’t push her son to dress up for costume day, because he said he didn’t want to do it.

I was The Mum Who didn’t read the email properly because I was too busy with other things.

I was The Mum Who didn’t realise it was a shared lunch at school.

Yesterday I was The Mum Whose son was the only child not in costume, and the only child who didn’t contribute to the lunch.

I was The Mum Who sat in my car in my lunch break and cried, because I never wanted to be The Mum Who was too busy to give that time to her kids.

Being a working Mum is bloody hard work. Even if I had realised there was a shared lunch, I wouldn’t have put up an amazing platter of themed food like the other mums. Because I didn’t have time. Even if I had fought my son to wear his costume, it still would not have been the detailed costume other kids wore.

I work hard doing two jobs and juggling three kids. Somedays I really feel like I do my best. Yesterday I was not The Mum Who did her best.

I was The Mum Who went to school at pick up time, and apologised profusely to the teacher, I was The Mum Who said it was all my fault, please don’t let the blame fall in any way on my son. I was The Mum Who had someone say to me, “Oh, your son was the one not in a costume?”. I was The Mum Who thought, for a brief moment, that maybe my kids deserve a Better Mum.

And then the bell rang, and my son ran out of the class, and hugged me, and said “I was in a cool costume Mum – my t’shirt is blue so my teacher says I’m a Blueberry!”. My son was completely unaffected by his day. He loved all the costumes, and was perfectly happy not being in one.

I was many things yesterday, but as we left the school grounds I was That Mum Who laughs with her kids. Holding hands with BoyChild while the girls ran under our arms and in circles, all three kids in hysterical laughter. I was The Mum Who works hard so my I can spend afternoons with my crazy kids. I was The Mum Who listened to their stories from school, The Mum Who joked and played with them.

The Mum Who kissed them goodnight, tucked them into bed, told them I love them, and got big, sloppy, gross kisses back from them.

Life is tough. We make mistakes. It’s not always what we hope it will be. After days like yesterday, it’s good to remind ourselves not what we aren’t, but what we are. The Mum Who will do anything for her kids. The Mum Who works hard so her kids don’t have to.

The Mum Who does ok.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Some Days 

Some days writing this blog comes easily to me. The words flow faster than I can whack them into the keyboard. 

Some days I sit and think, I should really write something. Nothing comes and before I know it, I’m scouring through funny goat videos on You Tube. If you haven’t done so, I highly recommend it. Goats be cray cray. 

Some days I look at my kids and think, holy shit, how did I get so lucky? Three healthy, funny, all-round idiotic and cool kids. 

Some days I look at my kids and think, holy shit, why the heck are my kids so crazy/loud/dramatic and when do I give them back to their rightful owners?

Some days my house is tidy, the dishes are done, the laundry is up to date. 

Some days I could report a break in  and the police would legitimately believe our house had been ransacked. 

Some days I adore my husband and want to marry him 100 times over. 

Some days I think about how far away I could get before someone recognised me and sent me home. 

Some days I love my kids so much my heart wants to crawl out of my chest and smother them with kisses. 

Some days I dislike my kids so much I sit on the toilet and cry. 

Some days I want my kids to just grow up already. 

Some days I want time to stop so my kids can be small for a little bit longer. 

But 

Everyday I know how lucky we are to have what we have. 

Every day I’m eternally grateful for my parents who taught me how to be a parent. My step parents for being there for me too. And my in-laws, for teaching my husband how to be a parent. 

For all six grandparents, for being kick ass grandparents to our kids.

Every day I’m eternally grateful for my friends. The friends I’ve had since I was a kid. The friends I talk to every day. The friends I see every few months, and it doesn’t matter because it’s as though we saw each other yesterday. The new friends who made living in a new town so much easier. The friends I can rely on, the friends who I know are there for me. The friends who know I’m there for them. 

Every day I’m eternally grateful for my family. I have three sisters but the women I consider sisters spans beyond that – to my cousins and to the women who married my cousins, the aunties and the uncles. A strong family full of strong people, that I’m proud to be a part of, and proud to raise my children in. 

Every day,  I’m eternally grateful for my husband. We’ve had our challenges and we’ve emerged stronger for it. We don’t always see eye to eye, but a good marriage isn’t about that. He makes me smile, he is an amazing father, he’s an all-round good dude. 

And, of course, every day  I’m eternally grateful for my crazy monkeys. Three beautiful, smart kids who make me proud despite driving me insane. I’m grateful for the smiles, the hugs, the kisses, the tender sleeping faces. I’m grateful not only for what I can teach them, but also for what can teach me.

They’ve taught me to look at the world differently. The question things. To laugh when I feel like crying. To cry when I really feel like crying. They’ve taught me to think before I yell. They’ve taught me to put my phone down and be a tickle monster instead. They’ve taught me how to watch toy review videos on You Tube.

They’ve taught me how to love without reservation.

And for that I’m eternally grateful.