Right, here’s the thing.
I’m a disaster, and that’s why it’s a good thing I don’t have kids.
Only joking, but not really. Well, not joking about the disaster bit, am joking about ‘the end’ bit. I know people say that when you become a mother, you just do all the stuff and get on with the massive, terrifying life-adjustment. But here are all the reasons why I cannot imagine that situation for myself, and also why I admire mums everywhere (and why social services would definitely be called):
1. Sometimes I go to bed at 8.30/9pm to read, listen to podcasts or you know, go to sleep. I love sleep.
2. Pretty much everyday, I need to go back into the flat for something I have inevitably forgotten. Not so much now that I have five flights to climb if that situation ensues. Forgetting one of your kids upstairs, and deciding to leave them there because of the stairs; not acceptable.
3. I was devastated when my goldfish, Formby, died after five years. How am I going to deal with empty nest syndrome?
4. What if my kids never want to leave home??!! Also a terrifying prospect as I love my own space. Poor buggers can’t win.
5. I’m rubbish at money. The money I have, I like to spend on wine and the cinema and books. Ooh, and new pyjamas and bed-linen. (See point one).
6. I’m not very good (read: absolutely f*cking useless) at rejection. So that wipes out the best part of their teenage years (maybe even sooner these days), when they grunt at me and/or tell me they hate me. Standard teen.
7. I can’t keep plants alive. It’s a worry, when all you gotta do is put them in the sun and water them occasionally. I believe that is not how to care for kids. *So actually I was very proud of the fish situation. (See point three).
8. I’m worried about even having a cat in the flat, because of the possibility of them going over the balcony. Kids?
9. They are heavy. And need carrying a lot. I get most of my food shopping delivered because of the five flights (see point two). I don’t think schools operate home delivery of your offspring.
10. There’s a good chance I would break them. Probably psychologically. If not physically – by not watching them for a split second as they climb over the balcony, (see point eight).
11. It bothers me that this list is not an even number. Foist that kind of shit on them?
(12. I like a drink, a glass of wine most nights isn’t unusual. An excuse for day drinking at the weekend with brunch or a lunch with friends – I’m in. That woman on the steps in the illustration: Anne Pank)
Aaaahh, that’s better, an even number.
So mums everywhere, listen up……
I genuinely, hand on heart look at myself, and wonder in God’s name how you literally do it all. Honestly. I wonder how you get up every day, how you organise your life, how you work and care and find time for cooking and homework help, hospital trips, uniforms and your own life. But you do it. It’s no mean feat bringing kids into the world, so give yourselves a break. Bloody hell, raise a glass to yourselves. Double high five, rip open your pyjamas tops and scream into some corner or other, in the manner of Cristiano Ronaldo – whatever you want. Recognise what an incredible thing it is that you’re doing. You are doing a cracking job, it’s not easy and you’re doing it. Every. Single. Day. And that shit’s for life.
It’s probably no surprise at all to anyone reading this, that my mum still worries about me at the age of
I’m in awe.
Happiest of Mother’s Day to you ALL.