Ten Years Of Motherhood

Chapter 10 - In which we learn life's too short.

Photo by Richard Burlton on Unsplash

Dear Friends,

I find it somewhat ironic that I have struggled for months knowing what to say and write to you all, that invisible but very powerful wall that you hit from time to time that requires a pause button while you figure it out, for it to be lifted today.

This morning we celebrated my son’s TENTH birthday (eek!) and I hit send on an email that has been sitting in my drafts for some time. Both events feel equally poignant and like the next chapter is starting.

We will call this…

Chapter 10.

Firstly, please forgive me while I have my moment of reflection. (Do you do this on birthday’s too?) I spent most of last night going through old photos from ten years ago, when my face was slightly fuller but less wrinkled and a brand new baby was nestled in my arms.

I was twenty-one when I gave birth to our son. He was a planned pregnancy and I think that was part of the reason why I found it so hard. I felt like I couldn’t admit at times that it was in fact bloody exhausting and lonely, because I had always wanted to be a mum. I wish I could go back and tell myself to be a little kinder on the young mum who was really just trying her best.

Ten years on and I finally had that light bulb moment that has shifted me out of the fog I feel I have been in for the last three years. I have a *bit of a plan. You see, if motherhood has taught me anything (and actually, yes, it has taught me a great deal), it is that you have to be adaptable. You have to let things go.

When my older two were little, bed time was always strictly 7pm. Everything worked backwards from this: bath at 6.30, tea at 5, no naps after lunchtime. It worked for us at the time and we had two great sleepers because of it. So imagine the shock when baby number three came along timed with my son hitting an age where all of a sudden 7pm wasn’t an acceptable bedtime anymore.

Something had to change, whether I liked it or not.

The girls now go up for their bath anytime between 6.30 and 7pm, then bedtime is just whatever time we finish reading a whole library of books, sung a few songs and drunk the water, because as we all know, right before bed is when we are most thirsty… of course.

My son (who is as we now know, ten,) goes up to bed a bit later but no longer requires the singing.

At first I missed those regimented bedtimes and the time to oursleves in the evening. But life moves on doesn’t it? They don’t stay babies for long (ahh I’m THAT person telling you that after hearing it so many times in my motherhood journey), and what is the point of clinging onto something that clearly is ready to change?

My husband often tells me I need to go with the flow more. Perhaps he has a point. *Sigh*

Now I am in my thirties, I think I am finally reaching that point where the phrase “life’s too short” becomes my mantra. That’s why I finally hit “send” on that email I mentioned earlier.

I’m off to chase my big dreams and have a few people to thank for it. Three of those people are my children, because without them I don’t think I would have the same drive and passion to make the “stuff” happen.

So happy birthday son,

and thank you so much for the last ten years. They really have been a blast. A learning curve and wonderfulness in equal measure.

If we could make the next ten slow down a little though, that really would be perfect.

*No plan at all really but I have words I can put into a sentence should anyone ask me what I am doing.