Friday

Sometimes {moments from motherhood}




Sometimes, motherhood is the slow burning sensation of being trapped.
It's watching as your husband leaves the house for work, a mix of envy and wonder and resentment. It ripples through your body, slowly gaining momentum, swelling like a sea at high tide. Your mind floods with the words you need to get out, the thoughts you need gone, the feelings you need someone to hear. It's realising those words can suddenly no longer be contained, and watching as they crash onto the shore of the space between you, pounding over and over.

Sometimes, motherhood is the tears that sting your eyes from a small act of kindness.
It's your son noticing that today Mummy is more shouty than usual. He asks if he can give you something and brings you a piece of paper that says 'I love you', with wonky flowers which he declares aren't good because 'I can't draw flowers very well'. It's the love that threatens to burst out of your chest and crush him with it's weight.

Sometimes, motherhood is the repetitive sound of your baby calling MAMAMAMA .
It's her small, fleshy body desperately trying to climb you, saying your name over and over. This is her way of asking for more TV. Pleeaeeease Mama, more. But at the same time you're balancing hot tea and with a quiet resignation, because you saw it coming before it ever happened, you watch as her scrabbling sends the burning amber liquid into your lap. Tears fill your eyes as you silently walk away and strip down and tend to your pink tinged thighs. It's wanting to tell a grown up but knowing there are no grown ups there to tell. You are the grown up and you're not sure how that happened.

Sometimes, motherhood is a sudden swelling in your chest.
It's a look at your jam smeared child with yogurt on her forehead, laughing uncontrollably at your son. He is using oranges as a pair of boobs, then a pair of eyes, and then he grabs a banana and makes a smiley mouth. The laughter ricochets off the four walls you felt so trapped in earlier. It's being swept up by the giggles and joining them, watching the clouds part and a little light streams through.

Sometimes, motherhood is clock watching.
It is the dark, quiet depths of 5am being pierced by the first babbles of baby chatter whilst you inwardly plead with some uknown entity for a little longer in the warm sheets. It's the head banging frustration of 11am when the nap has been too short or the 5pm 'what the hell should I make for dinner' conundrum, again. It's often the 6.30pm start of a long outward breath of anticipation, as the 7pm bedtime is so. very. close.

Sometimes, motherhood is the desperation of an afternoon bath.
It's stripping off and jumping in, a quiet longing in your body for the hot water and lavender. It's watching your round, soft fleshed baby sit on your equally soft fleshed belly in the bath as you wash away the jam (her) and tears (you) that the day wrought. It's a cleansing of the hours gone, and fuel for the hours remaining.

Sometimes, motherhood is creeping in to the quiet, stillness of your sleeping babies bedroom.
It's the longed for closing of the day. It's the quiet snuffles of a baby sleeping with her bum in the air, and the deep old man snores of your six year old. It sounds like the most beautiful music you have ever heard. They smell like sweat and sleep and you stroke their warm littles bodies whilst breathing a sigh of relief. It's hoping you will always remember the calm contentedness you feel in those moments.

Sometimes, motherhood is making it through the day as best you can and still loving them so preposterously at the end of it. It is overwhelming in it's intensity. It is joy and pain and banality and calm repetition. Sometimes, it is all those things at once.


17 comments:

  1. This was achingly beautiful Laura. Achingly.

    I'm sorry for your tears and your scalded lap, I'm grateful for your words and the immense love you have for those crazy kids. ❤️

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. My and my thighs thank you dearly X

      Delete
  2. Replies
    1. Knowing you can relate all those years later makes me feel so much better about sharing this L. Thank you X

      Delete
  3. Exactly, *exactly* this.

    xxxxx

    ReplyDelete
  4. So so beautiful L. This is something every person should read. Mother or no. xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That makes me feel so good Marie, thank you! X

      Delete
  5. This made me cry but in a good way. So beautifully written. So true, especially today.

    ReplyDelete
  6. This made me cry but in a good way. So beautifully written. So true, especially today.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you! It's so good to know you're not the only one X

      Delete
  7. I want to hug you and cry and laugh with you over all these things, because YES. So much. You say it so beautifully.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Aww thank you. In it together xx

      Delete