… but my boy left me stumped. He does regularly, if I’m honest with the questions he poses.
It started during half term break and we took a road trip to France. Within seconds (no exaggeration) they were fighting: ‘Get your foot away from my shoulder!’ (The boy was getting comfortable and the engine hadn’t even been fired up) ‘Ugh you’re disgusting! Muuuuum he’s disgusting, he’s farted. Open the window, I’m gobnna pass out!!’
My response was to tell them to shut up, fix up or all privileges will be taken away until we return. Quiet. It worked!
Half an hour in to the drive to Folkestone, and I’m extolling the beautiful scenery of the Sussex and Kent countryside and the early morning mist laying across the fields.’Shurrup loser’ ‘No wonder you can’t get a boyfriend with a face like yours.’ And so it continued. For eight hundred miles. I zoned out, to my credit, but like a ball of Play-Doh that keeps getting prodded, I finally lost it (my self-control not the Play-Doh) and turned into the kind of monster that Greek mythology is made of. Silence. Again. All that could be heard was the rumbling accusations of whose fault it was and the reverberating beats of House music. Then a small voice pipes up; ‘Mum, how do you feel about being a mother?’. Boom, just like that.
Hmm. Conundrum. Tell the truth (as I have always preached to them) or tell a big fat fib (which I have also preached to them about not doing). In my infinite wisdom I went for truth. Going for comedy gold, me!
The truth is, I’m blessed and lucky to have been able to have kids. I’m grateful. Truly. But how do I feel? Really? When I’m faced with the fighting, the back chat, the stroppiness, I ponder why did I sign up for this? They infuriate me until I’m flipping my finger, mouthing obscenities behind their backs or saying out loud ‘FFS now what?’ when they call me. Their obstinate characters makes me want to cry at times. Honestly? I find myself calculating how many more years I have until serenity comes a knocking. Yup. There, I said it. Confessions of a mum.
There are people who don’t have children as a life choice. I get that. Not everyone wants a kid/brood. As a result, they have money in their pockets, freedom to travel and live life as an adventure. My life is more like a rollercoaster at an adventure park— and going without so the kids don’t need to. Sounds like a bum deal, right? Conversely, my kids are a credit to themselves. They excel at all of life’s basic needs to survive, they’re intelligent with great aspirations and all round great human beings. I love hanging out with them, they’re great company (when they’re not being little shits) and when I consider everything, I am actually rather enamoured with the title of ‘Bat Shit Crazy Mum’. They make me laugh, they drive me to distraction and they have taught me many things about myself over the years. Years of self-doubt has been thrown to the wayside when I realise that my biggest challenge has been to bring up three kids in this crazy world and they’ve done me proud. So, in all of this? I’m really honoured to be their mum. That’s how I feel.