Ok quick…shh…she’s asleep! Maybe I can tap out a few paragraphs before she wakes up…. I love my darling baby, sweetie, darling, two-year-old but oh my goodness, what the?!
I’m waking up at hours that a few years ago would have been my bedtime! Gone are the days of the night-owl life and all day sleeps, these are the days of late night laundry, early morning children’s tv and hardly any sleep at all. Ugh. I thought working 14-hour days at festivals was a long haul….I can hear your peels of mocking laughter, yes I can…and rockstar tantrums about the wrong vodka look positively beige in comparison to the screaming red-faced scene at the supermarket this afternoon. This parenting caper is a really tough gig.
I have unreservedly apologised to my friends who became mothers before me, for not understanding why they wanted to meet for breakfast. (“Meet at 8am! Are you kidding me?”) Now I understand, now that I’m a mother. By 8am I’ve already been up for hours trying to contain my mood in a fragile, glass jar. I’ve been repeating the same sentence since 5am. I’m starting to twitch. I want to leave this chaotic abode far behind and wish it wasn’t such a mission just to get out the door.
Coffeeeeeee. “Mission control, I need contact. I can see the planet but I don’t seem to be on it. I’m stuck in some kind of iggly-piggly vortex, vacuuming.”
I’m not going to call this post-natal depression, because I had that, and this is not the same. This is most probably aftershock or delirium. I see the beauty in my child, I love her more every day, but I lament the good ol’ times. I miss my guitar, I miss my friends, I miss my spunky size 10 wardrobe, I miss all the things that made me, me. All my juggling balls were thrown into the air and blasted into pieces. Who I was, scattered like ash all over the place and I can’t see anything clearly for the dust. My eyes are sore.
I know I’m not the only one standing here squinting into the past and wishing that this beautiful child were my niece.
I would have been an awesome aunty. She and I and Peter Pan would have had a fantastic time together because back then I didn’t get upset by people drumming at 5am, I didn’t lose my wig over a few squashed sultanas and I quite liked sand. Back then, back then, back then….stop!
Today, I have a child who, in reality, saved me and spared me the indignity of becoming the weird, old lady at parties. I have the opportunity to grow and learn about myself in ways I never could have otherwise.
Today, I can gaze at clouds, dance like a rabbit and laugh at farts.
I am obliged to enjoy the small things. I am able to create a reality that is better, brighter and more beautiful than ever.
Today, I know that somebody loves me.
If I can salvage only one thing from my world before children it will be this philosophy:
Live for today. Make good memories. Be as free as possible.
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