3 Dec

I think that as a stay at home mother to a small child you exist. There may be others out there, bounding around, living every moment, but I haven’t met them. My days pass in a fog. No, not a sleep-deprived one. One of, well, drudgery. Days are, if not the same, then very similar. Every moment that you do try to capture is so fleeting and fragile that as soon as you think “This is…(special)”, something else has happened to negate it entirely and you end up shouting or running at top speed to avert some sort of disaster. You wander around with yoghurt in your hair and hummus on your elbow, humming some inane children’s song, listening to other people’s conversations never knowing when to join in because something happens as soon as you give birth and whatever social skills you may have developed up to that point disappear, and you hope that with any luck they will have reappeared before you have to face the nightmare that is the school gates.

In the years to come I will look back at the pictures and “remember” the moments from this period of our lives. But it will be a re-remembering. Because I can look at those pictures now and see us, in all of our glory and still wonder what I am looking at. As time goes on, my mind will weave a story of our lives. My son will be the one who “never cried”. There are no pictures of it you see. There are no pictures either of the days we sit around doing nothing. There are only pictures of us doing things. We will be the family who were “always doing things”.

Because you don’t remember all of the bad days. Do you? If you did it would be even harder to get out of the bed in the morning. You remember the good days. And you wake up hoping that today will be one of them.

As for feeling alive? Have you ever put your elbow in a blob of hummus? Felt it seep through? Cold ooziness. With a hint of garlic. It made me want to retch. And strip naked. But I had to wear that badge of motherhood all day, because I had a husband in bed, recovering from a nightshift and a small boy who can’t be trusted to be left alone.

Foodstuffs become entirely different things when you put your elbows in them.

You’re alive if you can feel it!


2 Responses to “Moment”

  1. Carol Ann Hoel December 4, 2010 at 9:09 am #

    Stay-at-home-mom, your day of reward will come. You will look back when your boy is grown and know that you gave your child all you could give him when he needed it most.

    The go-to-work mom envies you. She is pushed by all her obligations at work and at home and feels unfulfilled as wife and mother. She doesn’t have time to show her child the love that’s in her heart for him. She doesn’t get her elbow in the food or see her baby cry very much. Someone else does this while she manages her career.

    Don’t think I’m scolding you or that I think you are ungrateful. I’ve been where your at. Just to spend a few moments in company with your peers seems like a faraway memory that you cherish. You need some adult company in your life. You need a little time off, mom. If you can trust someone with your child, you should give yourself a day out of ten, at least, to spend time away from being mom. Don’t burn out, get out – a little bit. You are a great mom, and you must take care of yourself.

    I admire you very much. Blessings to you…

    • turtleturtleturtle December 8, 2010 at 3:42 pm #

      I’m trying. Time to myself is like gold dust. Unfortunately, we are very far away from our families and friends. But the Turtle and the Hubby get a fair amount of quality time together without me interfering (as is my wont).

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