My Awful Realisation

I have come to an awful realisation.  A gut-churning, guilt inducing revelation that can only be revealed to a person after 4 hours of insomnia.

So, I went to bed as usual and thought my good night’s sleep was in the bag.  It wasn’t.  I trailed through thought after thought, considering how I feel about my ever-increasing age, the dynamics between family and friends, the numerous demands of my job and how I find it oh so difficult to work three days a week then change to being mother earth for the remaining days.  I then started to consider my increasing irritation with my oldest child.  How I had reported to my husband just earlier that day that I found this almost 4 year old boy infuriating.  His constant cry for attention.  His heightened sensitivity.  I moaned about the competing demands of childcare and housework.  You see, I have become more and more houseproud.  Maybe because we have a newish house or maybe this is a phase that comes with my age.  I’m just not sure but one thing is for certain, every comment made that could be construed as negative about my lack of domesticity is a cut to my throat.  Every slight inference that my house is untidy / unclean is a blow to my womanhood.  Which got me thinking… What the fucking hell has happened to me?  I stated counting each pointless domestic task that took me away from giving my children attention and I actually wanted to cry.  My oldest son has renamed me ‘Wasp’ after his favourite red-headed, feisty Avenger superhero yet I apparently can’t play with him because I have to mop the kitchen floor.  The realisation that of course he feels sensitive because he and I have always been linked in some freakish spiritual way.  I sometimes don’t know where his feelings end and where mine begin and of course vice versa.  He must therefore feel my irritation and not understand what has changed.  My poor poor boy.  A sobering, heart wrenching revelation.  But… I am back baby.  I am back.  And I now understand what needs to change.  I am your mummy foremost.  Not your maid.  I am your mummy.  I suddenly feel my mind clearing.  Insomnia drifting away.  Sleep inviting me for the last few hours of  this night.  Sleep which will prepare me for a day of play and a filthy, unhoovered, untidy house.  Bliss.

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