It’s almost midnight and I just finished packing the kids’ lunches.
Surely every mother feels the same. They exhaust the hell out of me, I’ll admit that at times I might even count down the hours and minutes until bed time and yet once they’re finally down I watch them sleep and think to myself “ I don’t want them to grow up”.
I remember rocking a few months old A3 a few years ago. She had been crying and I had been rocking her for hours until she finally fell asleep. I just wanted to put her down already. I remember thinking to myself that in the midst of that chaotic day I hadn’t even taken the time to really just look at her. I consoled myself and thought “it’s ok; she’ll still look the same tomorrow”.
Today is five years later and the memory of that precise moment when I thought to myslef that she wouldn’t change and how I could always look at her tomorrow is crystal clear in my mind yet the memory of what she actually looked like has completely faded away.
I guess we really do have to make the most of each day.
Jack just came into the room. He’s looking at me funny. Ok now he’s blowing kisses my way.
Well today is not over just yet and since I want to make the most of today perhaps I should cut this post short and go be with him.
Jack : “When are you going to be done with your post?”
Me: “I’m done”
What’s these kids’ obsession with lifting up shirts and poking belly buttons ? Sure it’s cute, but these kids have no boundaries. They don’t understand that it might be ok when
we’re home playing on the couch, but when we’re in public mama doesn’t want the world to see her new 3 x baby belly. My poor belly button who use to be a inny has been so stretched and pushed during three pregnancies that it’s lost in it’s identity and has now found itself to be an outy that’s inside.
I have a girlfriend who has a belly button like that and when we were younger I would always tell her how I thought it was super sexy. So life plays this funny joke on me and flips my belly button inside out and then adds three kids poking at it daily just to remind me to just be grateful for what i have, because now I have the outty inny and there’s nothing sexy about it!
As thin as I get, as much weight as I loose post pregnancy, my body will maintain proof of motherhood. I have to embrace this. Just like war scars. It makes us who we are, signs of life, adventure, wisdom…
I’m just trying to convince myself here.
Who are we kidding. It’s bye bye bikini forever….
Then again, why would I be afraid of a bikini on the beach when my children have exposed me in clinic waiting rooms, at school, in restaurants and everywhere else we go. ” Why do you let them?” One might ask. I know better than to resist the shirt lift. If you stop them they’ll go straight for the bra. You’re sitting there talking to someone while your child is pulling down your shirt looking for your bra and then putts their hands right in there. Right in the middle, and then they wiggle their hands to get more depth, to get really deep in there. I think they like the heat, like baby chicks under their mommy chicken.
And we just sit there carrying on the conversation like normal with an exposed belly and little hands down our shirts. And we’re afraid of bikinis…pffft!