I am Supermum!
No really, I am! My life is full to the brim but I am unstoppable.
On my days in the office I am up, showered, dressed and out the door by 6:30am, with the baby’s lunch bag packed, his clothes laid out for my husband to dress him in and some sausages prepped and ready in the slow cooker. Most mornings I even manage to do this while my son is clinging to my legs, but his early rising makes me happy because we can at least squeeze in a few minutes of serious cuddles before I have to dash.
I leave the car outside Rafferty’s day care and jump on the bus, where I tap away at the chic-lit novel I’m working on (it will probably never see the light of day, but it’s an outlet) then I trot through the city to work, ready to face dozens of emails, all containing complaints and problems that I’m expected to solve before lunchtime.
At 5pm I make a mad dash for the exit and pray there won’t be heavy traffic so that I can pick up my little darling on time. In the car, he screams the whole way home unless I sing for him, so ‘The Ants Go Marching’ all the way up to groups of thirty five. Hurrah!
Home! Dinner! Bath! Playtime! Story! Bed! Dinner for grown ups, pack away the mess from the day, spend time with husband, send a few texts to friends while watching a few minutes of TV and then flop into bed.
I’m actually pretty proud of myself for what I am managing now that I am a most excellent working parent. Everyone is fed and clothes get cleaned. Sure, sometimes I wear the same bra for four days straight, and if my colleagues looked closely at my shirt they would notice a little smear of baby snot on the shoulder, plus the other night my dinner consisted of a glass of wine followed by a bowl of chocolate ice cream because I forgot to turn the slow cooker on before I left in the morning but hey – it’s all good right? Even on no sleep, some days I feel actually more energised than the times when I’m well rested (thanks adrenaline!)
I really hope I’m not alone in this phenomenon, but every few weeks, something happens to bring it all tumbling down.
It could be as simple as realizing I have no tomatoes when I thought there were some in the fridge. Or the electricity bill arriving and pointing out that most backpacker hostels use less electricity than our three person residence. Perhaps the baby leaning out of his high chair and dropping the vegetable slice that I stayed up late on Sunday night baking straight into the dog’s mouth is the thing that sets me off, but all of a sudden, the façade of control and happiness that I’ve been fooling myself with collapses in a heap on the floor.
Life is too hard! The baby is too full on! My job is too stressful and I hate the commute! Everything is too expensive! Our house is never clean enough! Why can I never, ever find the remote control?!?
“I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!!!”
You’ve got to feel for anyone who is in the vicinity during one of my meltdowns.
Well, you have to feel for my husband, because it’s not like I can take my frustrations out on Rafferty without making things worse. Poor Garrett is always bamboozled when my emotions are unleashed because I either start barking orders like a madwoman or break down sobbing like a heroine in a midday movie drama and there’s not really much he can do to placate me.
This modern motherhood thing is tough. I suspect it was also tough in the old days. It has probably always been hard for everyone. Balancing the family’s finances, planning meals and battling to keep the baby as number one priority really takes it out of you, even with the best, most supportive workplace, husband and family.
But what do you do? Once the freak out has subsided you pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start on the dishes, because you’re a Mum, and you’re proud to be one.
Most of the time!
What’s the most random thing that has triggered one of your ‘I Can’t Take This Anymore’ meltdowns?