Maybe I'm feeling emotional after my first Mother's Day. Maybe I'm full of love after a fairly decent night's sleep. Maybe I'm slightly high on the it's-Monday-and-I'm-not-at-work feeling.
But I thought I'd post something semi-positive for a change.
As I've said probably 3,348 times since becoming a mum, motherhood is hard bloody work. The sort of hard work that I'd usually experience and then say 'actually, I don't think I'll bother after all'. But no matter who you talk to, they just don't offer refunds on babies. However, the more time passes, the more Jack gives back, and the more I enjoy every day that I get to spend with him. It's still hard. It's still messy. At times it's mind-numbingly dull. But when I'm not with him I miss him more than I thought imaginable.
My favourite time of day, no matter what sort of day we've had, is bedtime. At 6.30 we bath him and get him ready for bed, and he has a grumble. Then I settle down with him in his nursery and sing him a song or read him a story, and give him his last feed. As he falls asleep I just hold him and look at him all cosy and sleepy and feel so full of love. (Some days mixed with a dash of pure relief that he's finally decided to go-the-f-to-sleep.) When he's dozed off I lay him against my chest and hold him to me and enjoy those first few minutes of peace, listening to him breathing. I know I won't be able to do this forever, and each time I do it I appreciate the feel of him in my arms a little more.
I now picture my mum doing this with me each night, and understand the strength of the bond between us, that can never be broken. It's just a tiny moment in every long day of mothering, working, yawning, surviving, but it's the greatest moment of my day. And it makes it all feel worthwhile.
You know, until the next time he cries.
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