Just say Thank You

There's been an internal struggle brewing within me. 

A little while ago, Kai was a little under the weather. He spent part of the night in bed with us and when we could no longer taking the moaning and whining dumped him back into his own bed where he promptly fell a sleeping.  

I woke up at what I assumed was a short time later. It was actually 9am. I bolted out of bed and went to discover Amy's bed empty and the house quiet. My first thought was that they had all been ruptured. It would be yours as well if you watched never ending end of days movies as a child.  

But then I checked Kai's bed to find him fast asleep. A quick chat to the husband let me know that Amy had been dropped off at school. 

But then who made her lunch. Tim did. Tim who doesn't quite know his way around the kitchen beyond scrambling eggs and making rice or pasta. 

OK fine it was just a sandwich and fruit. Easy enough. But it's not part of his job for smooth running mornings in our home. He does breakfast and gets Amy dressed and I do lunches, the daily contents for various bags and sort out Kai. 

And so came the conundrum. 

Do I say thank you?

Because it's only just stuff out of routine and not anything ground breaking. Tim wasn't doing anything that he really needed to be thanked for. At the end of the day he made his daughter lunch and took her to school.

Like a good parent. 

We've been assaulted by a bevy of bloggers that implore us to stop undermining dad's and give her their due. After all father's parent as well. Tim himself woukd look down on you if you even dare to suggest that he's babysitting one of his children. 

So in my hesitant attempt at a thank you, I really needed to think about why I was so greatful. And that's pretty simple. 

For an hour or so I got to sleep in interrupted and wake up when I was ready.

Like one wise person said...

No one thanks you for making lunch but sleeping is excellent.

So no I'm not saying thank you because my husband was a responsible parent. I'm saying Thank you becaue you did a wonderfully considerate thing. 

Keep it up.

I'm not drunk... I promise

It's a Sunday as I write this. The first day of a long week that will hopefully end with a finished kitchen... Of course I had to include the kitchen. It's Day 2

Usually Sunday means church and today I was on kids duty. In between all the chit chat I said something about how much I love being with my kids and I found it fun. To which someone responded 

'are you drunk' or maybe it was 'what are you drinking' 

Now I will be the first to admit that there are days (and they are NOT few and far between) where a glass bottle of wine feels like it would take the edge off. I will also admit that there are days when a few edges need to be taken off for the safety of the general population within my immediate vicinity.

But most days I love being with my children. I love watching them grow and learn. I think they're incredibly extraordinary. 

And they make me laugh. 

But I often wonder about the effect it will have on our kids to hear their parents declare so strongly that they don't love spending time with them. I want both my children to know from now that I love the time I spend with them. That it makes me happy and it fills me with joy. 

I won't have ever claim to be a perfect parent. I fail. I know I do and so I sought some help from a mother wiser than I. I explained my failings in great detail and then asked her what I could do to be a better mom. And the reply I got was 

Stop being so hard on yourself and just enjoy her. 


Sounds so simple doesn't it? Just sit down. Just laugh. Just listen to the laughter. Stop trying so hard.

It's not easy though. It's hard to laugh when your children are doing hadeda calls to each down the passage at the mall. Especially when you can feel the hard unforgiving eyes boring into you. 

Except that it is that easy because really as if  that person never out a foot out of line. Children are best enjoyed as children and that time is so short and fleeting. 

So no I'm not drunk and I'm drinking anything. I'm having the time of my life.

Kitchen Nightmares and no Gordon Ramsey in sight

We're just a about to hit the 10th anniversary living in our home. We moved in here in May 2007 maybe. When we moved in, I told the husband that it was perfect and we could have our first child here.

Well we've now had our second and I'm rethinking my idea of perfect. Partially because we have just completed day 1 of the Great Kitchen Makeover.

I'm going from having a teeny tiny cupboard suitable for a couple that lived on take out to a giant corner step in pantry designed for mostly clean living mom of a kid with allergies. Make no mistake, there is great joy and much dancing about the new available space. But if you listen closely; there is an occasional wail of absolute despair because I do not have a stove for the next week.

Yes it's true that my extensive list of appliances can see us through the week but there's something about being able to stand at the stove and stir rice endlessly (rissoto obviously) while pondering the effort of being a pinterest mom.

Planning is going to be a little bit more of an effort this week. But man I can't wait to fill that cupboard.

Long week

This week has been a long week. I'm slowly coming apart at the seems. Kids need to be rushed around for physio appointments and extra murals. Dishes need to be done and lunches and dinners  made. Husband is home this week so there's three mouths to feed excluding my own.

Going to an event is always a gamble. Kids run riot which frustrates the husband resulting in me trying to make sure he doesn't get mad while simultaneously trying to rain in 2 rambunctious children during the witching hour.

You bend and weave at each new thing desperately trying to hold on and keep your head up. Trying to to be all things to all people and failing in ways you haven't even thought of. Because I don't want to be the mom who yells or gers angry and so...

You give up.

Or at least I did.


I left it all and changed into my pjs and got into bed. We were home so the husband was less likely to blow a fuse. It was safer for me to let go.

So I did... Because sometimes you have to.

And then came the cry.

Then it came louder

And then the call.

Mama

Mama

Mama


I called out hoping it would be enough.
'It's time to sleep. It's not awake time'

And louder the call came.

Mama.

So I dragged my weary soul. Hope that all it needed was a face. A quick hug. A short cuddle.

All three in quick succession and then I turned to leave. And the cry came again.

Louder and forlone.

So I got my pillow and sat on the floor next to his crib. I shoved my hand through the thin slots. A prison that held me even though I was on the outside. He grabbed hand and held tight. A long day had just become longer.

But in that moment he said again.

Mama

And this time it was different. This time it was hopeful and happy. He clutched at my hand and sighed. Content. I listened as his breathing slowed down till I heard that slow steady pace of a sleeping toddler still clutching at my hand.

In those moments all the frustration of the day melted away and I felt so blessed and honoured to be mother to this little boy.

I don't know how long I sat there listening to them breathing but it was the perfect end to a less than perfect day.