An Ordinary Mother

I am an ordinary mother.

I used to believe that I would be an extraordinary mother; a mother full of vibrancy, joie de vivre, laughter, lightness, inspiration, calm, reason and dripping with endless love.

The love part is definitely true, but even that can sometimes seem a little hidden. However, this is not a blog about being self-deprecating, or humble, more the realisation that I am simply doing the best I can as each dawn arises.

I am tired, so far I have been breastfeeding for close to five years, I treasure it, love it, value it and also I am tired. My children are young and my youngest is yet to find his words, so I am filled with the urgent need to be constantly aware of his surrounding so that I can interpret his signs and wishes for acknowledgements. I cook ‘real food’ which takes time, thought and preparation. I want to pay attention to everyone’s needs and requests and demonstrations of hops & jumps and drawings and I can’t. I want to sit with each one and listen deeply to each of their thoughts and offer my silent consideration and energy and I don’t. I do laundry and cook and drive and change nappies and juggle and juggle and there are moments where I am present and connecting and all loving and there are plenty of moments when I am not.

I aspire and I work towards simplifying and achieving greater space between ‘things’. In those spaces I wish to be ‘that’ mother. I want my children to feel heard and honoured and I have to work hard for them to really know that because life can easily be so busy and bustling and fast; it could all too easily pass me by.

And I also must accept that I am simply an ordinary mother, just doing the very best that I can as each dawn arises…