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  • Writer's pictureRobyn


On Wednesday morning this week, Pip pulled one of his socks off and told me he had crayon on his toes. He was half right, I suspected it to be paint and not crayon, but his toes were indeed slightly green - I also suspected that nursery were probably to blame for this odd toe colouring, but it wasn't until he came trotting through the house that evening calling out that he had a present and brandishing his card and bouquet that the reason for his green foot was made clear. All kinds of random arts and crafts come home from nursery and school at the moment (Sally especially loves 'junk modelling' which as far as I can see just involves her sticking boxes together with vast quantities of masking tape) but this has to be one of the sweeter things that has appeared recently - and he was so very pleased with himself.

Sally made me a card, in which was written I love you in a rather creative and phonetic order, which I believe means she did it all her self rather than under the instruction of an adult. Baby Cleo has been extremely lax in her creation of art involving finger or toe prints - I shall expect her to up her game next year (by which time she will of course be enrolled in nursery whose staff surely must have a degree in pintrest searching and arts and crafts). But she did give me a 6 hour stretch of sleep at the close of mother's day which definitely wins her some points.

So - what of being a mother on this year's mother's day? People keep making half amused comments about my being a supermum because I'm dressed and I've managed to leave the house with a baby under a month old and two children - and yes, I've done more and faster with baby three than I did with either of the others. But I also haven't really had much choice. Sally needs to get to school in the morning and that means I have to get out of bed, and dinner needs to be cooked and the laundry needs to be done - these things were all a lot easier to ignore doing when there were fewer people in the house, but I'm also a lot more used to doing all of these things than I was when Sally first turned up. It also helps that Cleo is a pretty chilled out baby for the most part, yes she has her trickier days, but generally she's happy and lets me sleep enough at night that I'm able to function the next day. But I'm also not sure that friends declaring that I'm some kind of supernatural being because I have managed to get clothes on is setting the bar especially high!

For all the supermum comments - there haven't been an equal number of superdad comments. And if there's a reason why I've managed to do as much as I have, it's mostly that I have an excellent husband. Marriage is supposed to be a partnership, and at the moment he is certainly carrying his share of the load - actually I think he's carrying his load plus some. He's the one who always seems to be picking up the pieces, finding activities for the children, defusing arguments and doing the washing up when I give up and go to bed at nine o'clock. He also picks up the pieces at the start of the day when the Pip wakes up an hour earlier than would be ideal.

I would be lying if I didn't say that it is all quite hard at the moment, both of us are tired and we both get frustrated at each other and the kids and the house, but for each grump there seems to be a magical moment like Sally and Pip curling up on the playmat next to Cleo to show her lots of things or giving her a cuddle, or singing at dinner time and giggling at an incomprehensible shared joke that has something to do with the word 'bop' being uproariously funny. Those are the moments we can look at each other and smile that this is what makes it all worth it. But whereas I get a couple of days a week where I can curl up on the sofa watching tv and recharge for the next round of crazy families and the times when the children refuse to eat their dinner or get dressed (not at the moment though, thank you Easter holidays!) Ed has to go to work and it doesn't seem entirely fair.

So, whilst I'm not going to turn down the thank you or the silly tea cup that announces my awesomeness, it is nice to be told you are appreciated afterall - this year I'm passing half the credit on, so thank you husband. You're excellent too.

playing nicely

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