The kids were restless.
Please, can we go on our bikes.
It should be simple. Ideally we’d have one of those bikeracks fitted neatly onto the back of our car & off we’d all troop for a blissfully peaceful afternoon of cycling.
Problem one. No bike rack
Problem two. Littliest doesn’t ride yet & isn’t a big fan of his scooter.
The compromise is walk a little way to the local park & the olders ride & the littliest runs. The park is, how shall I put it. Not entirely stress free. There are problematic roamers in merry groups in their dull in dark uniform ‘uniform’. There are sometimes unsavoury unsafe items left in the grass & coupled with a noisy & rambuctious crowd at the pop-up ‘mini theme-park’ I decided to go a different route.
We went right.
I’ve never been right before.
Ahead of me stood an imposing building with some beautiful architectural details
It wouldn’t have been out of place in a Harry Potter set. My interest piqued, I looked into it (via my phone) & found it was originally an orphanage & then transferred to become a hospital.
It was so beautiful, a little eerie & hopelessly abandoned. A shadow of its former self.
As I looked, I contrasted it to me.
(& no, I’m not always this reflective or introspective).
As a Mum, I’ve not been ‘just me’ for a long time. I look at myself post 6 babies & it’s not entirely a pretty sight. Some would have me believe that I’m crumbling- all this time spent raising kids has caused me to ‘crumble’. I’ve simply not pursued my own dreams & put myself first.
Am I a more derelict version of the original me?
Sometimes it’s easy to lose yourself in a mountain of washing, deadlines, housework, homework & wonder quite how exactly you arrived at this point. For more seconds than I’m happy with, I wonder whether I’ve missed something.
Then common sense overtakes me.
Are you kidding?
Yes, I’ve scars to prove my entry to this motherhood sorority.
Scars, literal and figurative.
I hope I’m better for being worse (if you follow),
I cannot even on my very worst parenting day, during the most heinous of unwise mum decisions, seriously regret it.
I’m no martyr.
I should be celebrating the fact that I’ve had my ‘best years’ being priveleged enough to be a mother, and steering these unique children.
We all have our down days, the times we hold our hands up and freely admit we really don’t know what we’re doing.
As a mum with faith, I’m glad I’ve a trust in One who helps me make sense of it all.
But as for the crumbling?…
I’ll keep crumbling. I reckon it’s better to accept I don’t know it all, that the whole Mom thing does require me to take a back seat on a regular basis. But it will be worth it.
We have to stick together. This motherhood lark was never for the fainthearted.
We are in a massive global community that instead of doing the whole ‘snare of compare’ thing, should be helping each other through the crumbly days & the times when I feel like boarding the ‘windows’ and retreating.
Oh,..and crumbly immediately makes me think of biscuits, particularly the chocolate covered ones.
And they are no bad things!
See you when I’ve oiled a few of my squeaky hinges!! x