I always get emotional on the big days. Birthdays, Christmas, Mother’s Day, you name it, I cry on it. Not tears of sadness or tears of joy, but tears of feeling overwhelmed, I guess. On birthdays, it’s the realisation that life is slipping through my fingers, that I can’t stop time and that one day, scarily soon, these days will be a distant memory. On Christmas, it’s probably the amaretto mixed with the relief of months of planning paying off and feeling like I have my shit together even if the carrots are raw and I forgot about some of the Christmas presents. On Mother’s Day, it’s the weight of being a mother.
It’s big, isn’t it? It’s an important job, I have real responsibilities. Those little faces looking up at me and I am in charge of them. Not just on a day-to-day level, but I’m responsible for helping them to grow. I have to feed them well, wash them, make sure they’re dressed. And then I have to help them deal with their emotions, teach them to stand up for themselves and instil in them a compassion for those around them. These aren’t little things, they’re huge.
Those little girls depend on me for everything. They want me to cuddle them when they are hurt, they want to snuggle up on my knee while I read them stories, they want me to watch their new tricks and show an interest in what they’re doing. If I snap at them, they are crushed. I see it in their faces, all they want is to be loved and accepted and feel safe and I am in charge of making that so. It is my job to love them unconditionally, to hold them close and tell them I love them so that they are ready to go out and take the world by storm. I’m their safe place, that’s my job. I’m their little patch of evergreen comfort amidst an untidy and unpredictable world.
It’s a lot of responsibility building the next generation of women. I want them to be tough and brave and loud and compassionate and opinionated and fierce. I want them to believe they can do anything, to push boundaries and climb mountains and aim high. I want them to love without holding back, to laugh loudly and to chase happiness wherever it takes them. But it’s hard, isn’t it?
It’s hard to find them time to give them both my full attention. It’s hard to get everything we need to do done while still finding time for the things we want to do. It’s hard to be calm and patient when I’ve had no sleep (and I never get any sleep). Motherhood is a big deal and it deserves my full attention, but I don’t often get chance to give it the time and energy it deserves. Life gets in the way. I want to be the best mum I can be, but I don’t always feel that I have enough time to manage that (I’m too busy or too drained or too exhausted).
These days won’t last forever, that much is painfully obvious. Ebony has grown up so much recently. We were walking along today and she said, “Hey, mummy, look at my shadow, it looks like the shadow of a teenager.” And just like that I could see her, painfully embarrassed to be around me, desperate to impress her friends, full of teenage angst. Motherhood is giving your everything to a new little person who grows further and further away from you. I’m still in the needed stage, I’m their hero, they depend on me and love me unconditionally. But they won’t forever, and knowing that makes my heart hurt.
I only have one chance to get this right. If I’m not the best mother I can be now, I’ve messed it up. I’ve missed my chance. Ebony will only want to read her books to me for a few more months, then she’ll be holed up in her room reading to herself. Ember’s sloppy kisses and bear hugs won’t be offered indefinitely, I need to soak those up while I can. Motherhood can be tiring and draining, but it’s also the best thing that has ever happened to me. I can’t imagine what my life would be like without those girls, they changed everything and made me the happiest I’ve ever been.
