There aren’t many days that go by when I don’t feel guilty about something:
Every school morning I find myself bellowing “shoes”, “teeth”, “bookbag” at about 8.30am and then by 8.55 I’m apologising for being grumpy and wishing I’d stayed calmer as your little face goes into school.
“Yes you do have to go to nursery this morning. Mummy is working”. (I will also be cycling, drinking a peaceful coffee, tidying downstairs so I can work with a clear head and loving the fact that it’s still that way for the rest of the day without the usual splattering of toys and cheerios )
“Mummy, run with me. Run faster”. Well I could try, but I would probably fall on my face. So I don’t do anymore than an occasional jog. And I wish I could. With you. Every day.
“Mummy, are you going to hospital again this year? I don’t want you to” “No I’m not. It’s all done”.
I wish I had more time, energy and patience. And I sometimes wonder whether I’m doing a good job. I know that I’m not the only one thinking this.
Apparently my little girl thinks I’m doing ok. In fact she thinks I’m amazing. This little family of mine is the best thing I’ve ever done.
So just for today I won’t feel guilty, and I will happily text my husband to bring me a large cup of tea in bed without a hint of guilt or trying to do it myself because he’s been up with the kids since the new summery 7am. Which is of course is actually 6 bloody am.
Happy Mothers Day you amazing lot