Tuesday, January 6, 2015

My Life as Furniture

I really am not the most maternal person. I'm really not. But I have two children and, in general, the smallies seem to like me. This is rather perplexing because I think I look rather stern. But maybe it's the combination of my frowny countenance and the ginormous handbag that gives me the Mary Poppins-esque air that attracts the little blighters. For very often I am the mother at the playground who is generally surrounded by other people's children, as they vie with each other to tell me their family's most intimate secrets ("My Daddy got a new motorbike and this morning he fell off it funny and hurt his privates." "My Gramma has a tattoo of a cat on her leg." "My Mama says Aunt Philippa has more money than sense.") If you see my in the corner by the swings, watch out. A full-on confessional is probably taking place.

At the moment, I'm in a Weary Mother phase. I love my children, don't get me wrong, but I have a particular fondness for them when they are both asleep. Fast asleep. Let me not put too fine a point on it: right now, my main function in life is mobiliary. My children are either climbing on me, swinging under me, hanging off me, or in the process of doing any of the above. There are days when I do not have twenty minutes where all my limbs are devoid of toddlers or infants, and my own to do as I please. Sometimes I perambulate through the apartment with the small one in one arm and the (slightly) bigger one attached to my leg, or spend entire afternoons sitting under the little one (who's at the annoying stage when he wants to do much more than he actually can, so I have to help him out) while the bigger one builds his train tracks around me. I have a notebook in which I scribble random words that mean a lot when I write them. Twelve long hours later, I have problems remembering what "fish chocolate bar" means.

But it was brilliant when I wrote it.

He needs a climbing frame, like a cat.

 My blog has suffered greatly as a result. When I finally get them to bed (and read the word finally like a great, big sigh) all the ideas I tried to scribble down during the day are gone ... or it's just too much effort to write them down in words so that other people will understand them, too. My youngest has been teething for months and he's cutting those teeth on my chest. I'm pretty sure you can buy a pair of latex breasts somewhere in the depths of the internet but, frankly, I'm afraid to look for fear of what I'll find. In any case, I write this at 10.50 pm and, for the first time today, he's not attached to me in some way. The relief!

So this post is just a big thank you to everyone who wrote heartening, generous, kind, sweet and encouraging comments in the last few weeks. Some of them were so thoughtful, I was really moved. Rather than throw in the towel (The Towel of Frustration), I'll keep going. It's been a good way to start the new year. I'll stop being a Moaning Minnie now, I promise.

7 comments:

Erica said...

Here is what I found in a quick Google search!

http://www.amazon.co.uk/CHICCO-NURSING-NIPPLE-SHIELDS-NATURAL/dp/B004TXWASE

I hope your poor...erm...lady-bits don't suffer too much!

Shelagh said...

Until you have kids, I don't think you can ever fully appreciate just how demanding being a parent can be. Pre-kids, I was guilty of thinking, 'Keep them clean, rested and fed - how hard can it be?' Have you stopped laughing yet? I worked when my kids were small, and always used to say that I went to work for a rest. People used to laugh, as if I was joking, but I wasn't.

You're allowed to be a Moaning Minnie - if only so the rest of us don't feel inadequate :)

Rachel said...

I think you're great. You also shame me, as, with no small children, I have nonetheless spent the last few weeks failing to assemble my thoughts into an 'end of year' blog post.

I'm not sure the next comment is going to be encouraging, but you are reinforcing my decision not to have children. I believe they get better as they get older, so hang in there.

barazile, livpåIrland said...

Sometimes being a mother is like walking through treacle, with one child glued firmly to each limb....
and i have 4 kids, so yes, that worked out at one kid per limb.
nice and even.
phew....
well, at least it's better than the Home with a Newborn phase, when I felt like I was weeping from every bodily orifice and when every day was only as good as the previous night's sleep...

I say: Chin up, ladies, battle on!

theroadtoserendipity said...

Don't you hate people that say "Some day you will look back on this and smile"...maybe you will, maybe you won't but right now you would kill for a cup of tea without a child attached to some part of your anatomy or clambering for attention. Right now, you would love 30...20...heck, you would settle for 10 minutes with a good book and your feet up but books are something that lives in the bookshelf and don't have the ability to clamour for your attention so they get forgotten. Find yourself where you can. That nice cup of chai/latte works wonders when the kids are using you as a climbing frame (just don't have it too hot, nothing like boiling hot chai in your bra to let you know that you really are still alive!) I just recently found your wonderful blog. Every post is humerous to the point of hilarious. I actually pinned your post about your mum. I am sure I am not the only one who has. We all appreciate the heck out of you and want you to feel good about writing. If that means taking time off, please do, but please remember us waiting in the wings for when that sense of humour isn't covered with marmite and rubbed over the television because you have a talent with words and it would be a shame to hide it :)

Emm.A said...

love your posts. Even when you don't have much time to write them anymore. You're even funny when you're writing about, how exhausted you are! ;)
Have a great new year!
Greetings from Austria
Emm.A

Carole said...

Your post reminds me how glad I am to have my two darling daughters past that stage ! Mind you, I'm in for other treats linked to adolescence... Sometimes I'm so angry the only way I have to deflate the electricity in the air is tell her (the older one) "If you keep taking that tone with me I'll bring you back to the hospital !"