I’m not going to lie to my boys. Except when they ask what I’m eating. It’s NEVER chocolate! There’s no point right now in their lives to tell them about the pushing and all that…as neither of them were born that way and this one won’t be either.
But it’s a question that keeps coming up. Along with “how do you wee, you don’t have a penis?” And “do you wee from your bum?” Obviously my boys are obsessed with toilet talk. But asking about baby and its arrival has them a bit confused.
So keeping it child friendly and age appropriate, I simply tell them the truth.
That mummy’s tummy will be cut open and baby will be born.
Simple and too the point. And that after mummy will need to be in hospital and be sore so will need plenty of cuddles and lots of help. Somehow this often leads to a conversation about poo, and that neither of them are changing poopy nappies. They always end up on poo talk. Boys….
Tonight while putting Maverick to bed, he said “I don’t want the doctor to cut your belly open. He doesn’t have a doctors bag.” It’s heartbreaking. To hear that from an almost 3 yo, and to really want to agree with him. I don’t want it either. I promised him that when we meet the doctor he can show him his doctors bag to make sure the specialist was up to scratch.
Every few days I cry about it. Wishing there was a magical 3rd option that was easier and less painful for all involved. But time is ticking away, it’s getting closer and closer. I’ve started getting things ready. Buying bassinets, clothes, looking for prams and such. Trying to get Maverick out of the cot and into a big boy bed. For a child who doesn’t like to be called little, he surely won’t leave the cot! Attempting to get my head around what I actually need. Hoping I’m not hospitalised early and having to do it all online!
Wanting to change everything around but not actually wanting to do the work. Still thinking 3 kids is mental.
But wouldn’t change it for the world!
Last night I had 7 whole hours of undisturbed sleep…I know! 7. Whole. Hours.
This morning I felt great for about 3 seconds until Marshal decided he was hungry before I even got out of bed. Yesterday it was Maverick screaming for breakfast before his eyes were even open.
We were supposed to meet a friend for a morning play, and after giving Marshal an hour to get his things together, he still could not leave the house. So I cancelled. There were many tears, but he just wouldn’t leave without his toys that he’s put somewhere, and can’t remember where. I can only look for so long. It’s been over 2 hours and he still has no idea where they are.
I’m currently hiding on the floor of my kitchen in the little alcove.
Yep I’ve put my tracksuit pants back on as what’s the point getting dressed.
The boys are somewhere, probably watching TV even after I’ve said numerous times no telly and turned it off more times than I’d like to count.
I wonder how long I can hide for before they realise after all those biscuits they demolished before (yes again after I said no but got the shits with the screaming and threw them on the floor…sigh) that they are hungry and want lunch….
Another day in paradise…
Today I visited a friend who has a newborn. She also has a toddler.
I asked ‘so do you love it?’
Her reply was ‘um actually…no’.
She went on to say she was over cleaning and feeding and dressing and chasing and was still waiting for the fun to start. She enjoyed being a mum, but she didn’t love it. I saw her pain.
It got me thinking about it. And you know what? I actually feel similar. I like the fact that I am able to stay home and raise my boys, but do I love it? Do I love being just a mum? Do I really love staying home and parenting?
Simple answer – no.
I often think that the bliss of parenting has skipped me completely. People told me when I was pregnant that I’d love it. That it would be the best thing I ever did.
But who loves wiping bums? Who loves picking up mess all day? Who loves screaming at their kids and feeling guilty for it? Who loves preparing food for it to just go to waste? Who loves not being able to go out whenever you want without feeling like the worlds worst mother?
No one. That’s who. Absolutely no one. If you said yes, then I reckon you’re lying.
It’s not fun, it’s hard and stressful. And a really shitty fucked up job. You don’t get paid, you don’t get annual leave because the kids are always there. Holidays are just the same shit different postcode. Sick leave is non existent because if mum gets sick then the whole world falls apart.
Please, I love my family. I do. I guess I was wanting it to be better than it really is. No one can prepare you for motherhood. No one tells you that you cry often, that it’s so exhausting that you just sit in silence some days after the kids are in bed just to be alone.
I’m actually glad I’m not the only one that feels like this.
I’m waiting to see the light and hoping it comes soon because I’m ready for a change in career.