An update

I'm still here. I'm just having a bit of trouble at the moment, and writing is hard. I'm not sure what to write, how much to share, if I want to share.  But when I figure it out I'll let you know.

What is the point of you?

A couple of months ago, we were at my Mum's house with family, and Georgie was playing with her cousin Hamish, who is four years old. Or, to put it more correctly, Georgie was following Hamish around, getting into his things and just generally annoying him as only a toddler can. Hamish eventually got so frustrated with her that he exclaimed "Georgie, what's the point of you!?" It was quite funny, and we all laughed. But lately I feel like that question is just hanging over me.

"What is the point of you?'

At times I feel like I am a less valuable member of society because I am 'just' a Mum, and I don't work. I feel like I don't contribute, don't really add anything to the world. Instead I feel that to the rest of the world, we stay at home mums are the toddlers of society. Not good for much, except for whining and complaining and getting in the way, and they have no idea how much they are looked after or how good their lives are. I don't know how much of it comes from the image of the 'stay at home mum' that is perpetuated by the media, and how much of it comes from my own feelings, but... it gets to me.

When you think about it really, what is the problem with Mothers? I must admit that at times I read blogs where women who are Mums speak about their struggles with depression, with motherhood, and you almost get a little desensitized to it, you know? I understand why people poke fun at Mummy bloggers. I know before I had kids I used to hear so much about how hard it is to be a mother.... and though I'd never admit it, in the back my mind I was a little like 'Really?' It's a bit of 'Oh your poor rich woman with too much food so you worry about being fat, with your beautiful home and healthy children.... it must be so hard for you to live.' (insert sarcastic tone here)

But here's the thing. It is hard. At times being a stay at home Mother is the hardest thing I have ever done. It's not like I have the stress of being in charge of a huge multi-national corporation, and sometimes I do get to hang out with my friends and drink coffee. But at the same time, often it is so incredibly mind-numbingly dull.
 
I love my children, so much it hurts sometimes. But I don't love the mess they make. I don't love washing the same dishes, cleaning the same toilet, washing and folding the same clothes, mopping the same floor, making the same beds, feeding, changing nappies, fighting the same fights.... every damn day.

And it's not necessarily the everyday tasks in themselves that get to you. After all, cleaning is a part of life. But it's the fact that it feels like the sum of those tasks, is are all you are worth. The feeling that you're not good for anything else. Plus, having children really messes with your mind. The constant worry, the responsibility, the pressure. It never stops.

Why does he throw tantrums? Is she too attached? Will this house ever be clean? Sleep (oh sleep!) Are they growing enough, eating enough, eating too much? Is she talking? Will she ever stop talking? Do my kids watch too much TV? Are we playing enough? Reading enough? Will they be ready for school?  Will they make friends? What if they don't make good friends? What if they do drugs?  Dear God, what if I don’t get my kid into a good enough school and my child ends up being a creepy forty year old man who still lives with his mother? 

I want my life to mean more. Be more. I don't want the fact that I got all my folding done, or enjoyed a really great cup of coffee to be the highlight of my day. But, this is a season. I will not always be the Mother of small children. This particular hard will not always be my hard.

So it's true. Mothers do complain and moan and go on and on about the difficulty of Motherhood. We probably do act like toddlers at times. And yes, it gets a bit much.... our constant outpouring of thoughts and feelings that all say the same thing. I get that. But, we don't do it forever. And in the meantime, we are still important members of society. Even though we live in a world that constantly devalues children and the raising of them, this, raising tiny people, is valuable. And if blogging and talking and writing and communicating about it all, helps get Mums through the day, then it matters.

I am a tea bag

A woman is like a tea bag. You never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water. Eleanor Roosevelt.

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Drop it in scalding, unbearably hot water. Watch as the water leeches out all the flavour, all the goodness, and it colours and stains. Make it sit in the hot water so you can take everything from it. Squeeze it, wring it out, until the very last drop trickles out. And then discard it, when it has nothing left, and is of no further use.

Who am I? I am Robyn. Woman, wife, Mother, daughter, sister, friend.

And today, I am a tea bag.

Linking up with Eden's Fresh Horses Brigade.

Our time

Every night Charlie goes to bed between seven and eight o'clock. And, without fail, every night he wakes up at nine or ten, just as I (would like to) go to bed.

He is a lovely boy, but he is a night owl. Both of my children have been night owls actually. But I am too, so really it isn't that surprising. Maybe if I was less awake at night they wouldn't be? But regardless, every night he wakes, and then stays awake, generally till around midnight.

And quite honestly, I don't really mind.

I mind the next morning when I have trouble keeping my eyes open. But at the same time, it's quite nice. We don't get a lot of time when it's just me and my boy. Even though I would really like to have an early night, I quite like those couple of hours at night with my Charlie. So, while his sister and his Dad sleep, it's our time.

Generally we play, or he rolls around all over the floor while I potter around doing jobs. I drink a lot of tea at night. We change nappies and tickle toes and say remarkably silly things about little piggies. Most of the time Charlie spends the first hour of his awake time being quite happy, and I do enjoy getting to be with him like that. The second hour tends to be a bit harder, that's when he starts getting tired and cranky, and I get tired and cranky. There is lots of patting and rocking and Go to sleep Charlie! But generally it's okay.

I do like my boy.

Probably if I was a better, stricter parent I could fight this and make him go to bed. But I just can't seem to want to enough. I know that all too soon the baby smiles and gurgles will be gone, and he will be a big boy and he will be off doing things that are far more important, and Mum stop kissing me! So I enjoy this while I can.

I mean really, would you mind spending a couple of hours with this guy?