MOTH·ER·HOOD


moth·er·hood

   (mŭth′ər-ho͝od′)

n.
1. The state of being a mother.
2. The qualities of a mother.
3. Mothers considered as a group.


Yes, check. I am in a complete state of being mother! I even have an apron. 
For six years I've been fudging through this motherhood game, desperately trying to look convincing and hoping nobody notices that I haven't a sodding clue what I'm doing. It's all one great big joke. A joke that I {together with Alex, of course} am responsible for three small humans. More than just trying to keep them alive and ensure they are clean and tidy, we're shaping three little people for adulthood. 
What are the qualities? I carried them and gave birth to them, so yes I have the physical qualities to become a mother but that's the easy part. What happens next is what really matters... moulding these cute little gurglers to be good humans is where the challenge becomes real. We all parent differently, hell, I parent each of my children differently. They are individuals after all. 
The real stuff for me now is Preparing them for school, playground chatter, class tests. Looking way ahead it'll come to preparing them for those big exams that matter. The 1hr 30 min paper that will dictate their next academic move. The first loves and the right friendship circles. Guiding them towards uni or the world of work or travel. Helping them to find their strengths and to see their weaknesses as opportunities to try harder, to work it out. Teaching them that kindness and love are the greatest gifts to own and to bestow upon their fellow humans. Compassionate hearts are the most beautiful. 
The group vibes. We're all in this together. Mums, dads, natural or adoptive, foster carers and grandparents. The village days are sadly a thing of the past but I'm a believer that 'it takes a village to raise a child'. Children need to see the grown ups in unison. The parents standing strong with the teachers. Mums having each others backs. 
We can too easily get sucked into a competitive world, especially online. Social media lives are so shiny, so pristine and it's easy to look at our screens and think 'oh shit!'. Real life doesn't have the Instagram filters... real life just isn't like that. I love it when friends share the really rubbish stuff... not for a sympathetic cheerleading squad to come out of the corners of the internet and massage their dented ego. Ugh, no! Don't do that please. But to be able to laugh in the face what challenges your children bring and say 'what the hell is this about? Nobody told me they'd refuse to obey my every command. Something has gone wrong with my product because I certainly didn't order this bratty little beast six years ago!'
Where I am at right now is realising that while the daily routine can be insanely monotonous, the children are not. Towards the end of this last school term, I was so done with the day in, week out routine. I needed the summer holidays to come as much as the kids did. Life got monotonous, I was on auto pilot, I let it get boring. They produce a lot of laundry, endless dirty dishes and their homework often becomes a team effort but while the chores might get monotonous, the children aren't. They chip, they hark on and moan and yes that is annoying but, putting myself in their shoes, they are just negotiating their day. I am learning that their negotiations are desperate pleas to take charge of their day. They are learning {oh so slowly} that we all have to play our part in making each others day good. More than just sharing stuff but sharing time. 

These sticky little people have potential to be brilliant human beings. One day at a time, I'm over here trying to create one gent and two ladies. I'm trying not to roll my eyes. I'm trying not to mutter. I'm trying to be one step ahead so when they're dawdling, I can let them dawdle a little. I'm trying.

WILLY WINKY

Wee Willy Winky IS real and if ANYONE tells my kids otherwise, I will hunt them down and smack their bottoms with my slipper - just like Willy Winky does to naughty children. Okay?!

It has been 22 days since I posted this Facebook update. That is 22 days since Willy Winky came knocking on our front door and I had to send him away and promise him my children would be good... 22 gloriously peaceful evenings. 

Yes, it might be a bit wicked but Willy Winky has saved me from evenings full eye rolling, deep exasperated sighs and endlessly wracking my brain coming up with threats and bribes to keep my children in their damn beds. My sanity is almost restored to its previous levels (not great to begin) and to top it all, I am the proud owner of three happy children who are firing on all cylinders after a full nights sleep. It's a win, win. 

Y'know what its like when children are faffing about avoiding sleep. 

They can't get to sleep until you are in bed. 
They need water. 
They need more water. 
Oh no mummy, they've spilled their water. 
They don't think they brushed their teeth for long enough. 
They need a poo. 
They forgot to wee while trying for the poo that didn't happen. 
Their duvet isn't straight. 

Not no more. Not a peep. They go to bed. Actually, they rush to bed because y'know WILLY WINKY.  Don't worry though, he only comes knocking if he hears that children are being naughty. He can be quite good humour if you've been well behaved. Oh, another thing. Winky is a very good friend of The Angry Pixie (y'know the one who lives in the Magic Faraway Tree a few branches below Moonface) and that little pixie, well he gets everywhere. He keeps an eye on children during the day while Winky is asleep.

Simple.