When I was a little girl I had a doll I dragged around with me. When I helped with the washing, my baby would come with me and lie quietly on the grass next to me having tummy time – because I was a dutiful make believe parent, who understood the importance of making sure my doll didn’t get a flat head. It was easy; I loved hanging out with my baby and doing the washing. When the time came for parenting – I was going to be ready, it was going to be simple, and I was going to love it. Every minute of it.

I was so very wrong.

“Once upon a time, I was the perfect parent. Then I had children. The end. (quote by Motherhood and more.)

I deeply love my children, all four of them. They make me laugh, they make my heart full and make me feel like I have achieved greatness in the short seven and a half years I have been a mother.

But nobody told me how hard it would be. Sometimes the journey itself to falling pregnant is hard. Pregnancy itself is certainly hard enough. The birth is hard.

Before we even become a parent we have these expectations of how we will be. We will have a wonderful water birth, with no drugs and then exclusively breast-feed this beautiful child who has routine from day dot.

Even if we are a little more realistic about it, I am not sure we are ever prepared for what is coming our way.

You have this little person, and you are the whole world to them.

When you are alone with your child for the first time, there is this overwhelming responsibility that kicks in. You have to keep this little being alive.

I was ready for parenting; I was ready for the social coffee dates, and swimming lessons. The multitude of playgroups, mother’s groups and play dates I would be a part of. We were going to have quite the life. She would of course have ample tummy time whilst I joyfully hung the washing out on the line.

Well no one told me. She didn’t like to sleep; she liked to feed every hour on the hour. My boobs hurt. I was lonely. My hormones were horrendous. My house was a mess. My body had changed. The tiredness you experience as a parent is nothing you can be prepared for.

Being a mum while it is so gratifying is honestly the hardest thing I have ever done. I have four children so people constantly surround me, yet I have never felt so lonely.

I find that I am a walking talking Play School episode; everything and I mean anything can be turned into a song.

My fourth child hardly had any tummy time, because my third child would take the babies clothes off if she ever got the chance.

I love my children, all four of them, but I am fairly sure my fourth is going to have a flat head.

When you have four children if one gets sick it can be straight up near a month before the household is germ free. There is nothing more exciting about staying at home with children who are miserable.

Those coffee dates I had planned became too hard to even imagine. The thought of taking a two year old to a public place became too overwhelming.

My washing is endless; there is nothing joyful about hanging it out.

I never thought that I would be the mum that calls her husband with tears running down her face, because I just cant handle and I want my mum.

There is no such thing as a perfect parent.

Somedays we need to remind ourselves that we are doing the best that we can, if today doesn’t go to plan then we try again tomorrow. Be kind to yourself. Let your children make you laugh, go and visit your mum if you need to.

This parenting gig is hard work, but nothing worth having ever comes easy.

 

‘Comparison is the thief of joy.’ I discovered this quote from Roosevelt after my third child was born.

I felt and sometimes I still do feel inadequate. As a mother, as a wife, as a friend and as a daughter. I judge myself on these things even when no one else is.

Women hang so much pressure on themselves to offer the perception that we have it together. We are the perfect housewife. We cook, we clean, we iron our husbands clothes, we manage the household, we raise the children and even juggle a career.

I really don’t like cooking, my husband asked me to get a shirt out for him the other day, but it needed ironing, so I bought him a new one.

I look at other beautiful women, who do all these things with grace, and I start to compare. I start to wonder why is it that I am not wired like that. Why don’t I want to bake? Why aren’t I chasing a career? Why am I not doing more box construction with my children? Why did my two year old throw herself on the floor in a tantrum while your two year old is holding your hand and staring into your eyes?

There was a meme going around that said “All these people over there teaching their kid Japanese and I am just here trying to stop mine from licking the fridge.’ I put my hand up right now, because this is me.

I focus each morning on getting all of my children out of the door dressed, fed, and alive, people say that they admire this. If I achieve this, I have had a successful morning.

Some days I am treading water, while I see other women striding out and just owning this motherhood business. I wonder what on earth is wrong with me. Why can’t I provide the same household that my friends provide for their families. Why do I feel so inadequate when I compare myself to other women, especially other mums?

After discovering I was pregnant with my fourth child, I was completely shocked, I was overwhelmed. This was not a part of my five year plan. How on earth do we manage as a family of six, how does this look exactly because right now three kids have got me beat.

I felt like I went from treading water, to just drowning. The financial burden of having more children, let alone the dynamic itself was too much to comprehend.

Other women were falling pregnant and so excited and I just didn’t know how I was going to cope. What on earth was wrong with me?

Comparing myself to other women left a feeling of emptiness. A feeling that I was unworthy and inadequate. This took away my smile and stopped me from seeing the joys in all the small things.

I remind myself that we each have our own journey. It is all relative. My four children to your 2. There are good days, bad days, happy days and sad. When there is a two year old thrown into the mix – the days are unpredictable.

If comparison kills my joy, I need to stop; because there are days when there is not too much to smile about and on those days I need to hold onto any ounce of joy I can find.

My kids are probably still licking the fridge and I am no closer to becoming a domestic goddess. Some days I nail being a mum and other days I am waving the white flag. This is me though. The four sets of big blue eyes that are watching me need to know that they will always be enough. I need to teach them this. So at some point I need to believe that I have got this and back myself in and hold onto that joy.

If you are forever cleaning your house when people come to visit, they will forever think that your house is clean. You have created this expectation that you maintain a clean environment all the time. So when someone comes to visit and you haven’t had the chance to clean, there looks to be a problem – “oh no have you been unwell? Has something happened?” Goodness no, this is actually my natural habitat.

I feel like that expectation moves over to parenting. When you are constantly happy and seeming in control, it’s almost harder when you have a bad day. It’s harder to admit that there may actually be a problem and that you are not coping, because people have this expectation from you that you are fine.

Sometimes I realize how ill equipped I am for this parenting gig. That I am so inexperienced and under qualified.

I understand now that we have bad days, that behind closed doors we lose our stuff and it all becomes too much.

I see people I know and they say how you going today? I say “Oh you know I have good days and bad days.” I say this with a smile so they don’t delve any further. I don’t like crying and I wont in public.

The reality is that the bad days are outweighing the good at the moment. Each morning I pep talk myself. Ill be better today, be more patient. By the time I’m getting the kids into to the car my voice has transformed from Mary Poppins into Bat Man.

I told my five year old daughter the other day if she got out of bed one more time I would cut her teddy bears head off. And that my friend right there was when I realized I hit breaking point.

I have a two year old who likes to go to battle with simplest tasks. ‘Get in the car’ sure she gets in the car, but then proceeds to run from the front to the back to the middle where I cant reach her. ‘Go to bed’ sure she goes to bed, but then she gets up nine hundred times. She runs into her sister’s preprimary class switches the light off and then runs out. Every day I wake up knowing that I am going battle with a two year old, and that is exhausting.

Reminding myself that the days are long, but the years are short does help some, except for those days that feel never ending. When I want to curl under my doona and wait until they are grown up and married and dealing with their own battles of parenthood. Then I can sit there and say ‘oh you know some days are better than others, but you will be ok.”

Sometimes we are not ok, sometimes we need a me day. That is ok. It is ok to wake up one day and just not want to battle it out. It’s ok to not want to wife as well as you think should. This is all ok.

It is not ok, when the bad constantly outweighs the good, and your brain becomes fifty shades of grey and I’m not talking in the romantic, toe-curling way.

Being a strong mum is sometimes putting your hand up and saying Time out guys, I need a sub.

They say that there is light at the end of the tunnel, but sometimes the tunnel is too dark to go alone and you need someone to carry the torch for you. Someone is always willing to carry that torch.

So sub me out guys, I need to be a bench warmer today, but tomorrow Ill go all four quarters.

Parenting is not always what it seems. 

Amongst the happy snaps we post, we often miss the tantrums by both child and parent, the bribery to get the perfect picture and the shade thrown at the kids to get the perfect photo. 

I want to share my journey of being an inexperienced mum and wife. I have four gorgeous girls and life is busy and chaotic. Some days are better than others. 

My hope is that by sharing some of my joys and struggles as a mum, others will realise that we aren’t alone in this crazy world, but we are in fact in it together. 

I’d love to share this journey with you.

R x