Categories
Motherhood

Waiting For Baby

It’s a beautiful time, for me. I’m seven weeks away from meeting my sweet little baby number three, and nesting has well and truly begun.

Life has been busy and forceful, if I look at it carefully and agree with the truth of it. Lockdown and homeschooling. Rushing to finish painting our home before baby arrives (I simultaneously love painting, and never want to see another tin of paint again.)

Beneath it all, though, lies a quiet hum. A hum so lovely, I’m certain it’s the stuff a summer breeze is made of. Lately, it’s been with me when I open the baby’s wardrobe; I stand there a little longer than I need to, just because it’s so lovely to be with my baby in that ‘real’ kind of way.

It’s the same loveliness that occasionally stands with me at my children’s doorway while they sleep. And, although I’ll never deny that motherhood aches and destroys at times, I’ll always be grateful for the quiet moments it brings my soul.

I’m home in this softness.

I’m well and truly home in this place.

Photo by Artem Podrez on Pexels.com
Categories
Motherhood

A Beautiful Mess

This messy home,

an incorrectness:

something broken

needing to be fixed.

The wars we rage inside ourselves

just to keep control,

to maintain clean,

to maintain ‘right.’

It is a mistake of the eyes

and the heart

not to see the true beauty

of a home:

messy, chaotic,

beautifully lived in.

These crumbs on the floor.

They are not bad or wrong.

They are a reminder of my children.

How lucky I am to have them at all.

This beautiful mess a child does bring.

Mess is life.

And though a pristine home

is a gift to be treasured,

so is this mess.

This mess of sweet

imperfect

life.

Categories
Writing

Super Mum

She hides in the bathroom and cries.

She places her palms over her ears and breathes into her belly. ‘Don’t wish it away. Such a precious age,’ she’s heard it a million times. She smiles politely. Tells them, silently, they’ve forgotten. Blocked out the bad times, remembered only the good.

She wants to say to them that every coin has two sides; every story, multiple themes running at once. And love. Even the love of a parent has two sides, always. When it’s easy, and when it’s hard.

Bathroom days are hard.

She counts the hairs stuck to the bathroom tiles. She won’t have time to pick them up, piece by scraggily piece. Too busy being an excellent mother, not wishing too loud for peace and quiet to find her once again.

She belongs in the bathroom.

They belong in fresh-white homes, lovingly tending to their overgrown toenails.

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

A Moment

There it was, quietly mine.

A moment of the greatest love: a Mother’s love.

My love.

For them.

And I know they tire me senseless,

and I know I wish them away

(too often for my heart to understand)

but they are the precious hands

I long to hold

a lifetime.

Those two small ones.

I choose their little arms, forever.

Categories
Poetry

Parents

To the parents.

Sometimes it is hard.

It is.

It just is.

Always remember the storms do pass.

Always remember the softness

and the sweetness,

the rose beyond the grey.

And we will grow them

perfectly

horribly

beautifully.

And all will be as it should.

All will be as it should.

I see you.

Photo by Josh Willink on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

Explore

I’m sitting at a table with one kid beside me, and another kid beside the kid beside me. My kids. Precious and two (although given they are six and three years old— it sometimes feels as though there are ten of them. Bless.) 🙂

We’ve just watched the most beautiful, beautiful show thanks to the wonderful program my little boy’s school is remotely running for school. It’s a fish thing. A deep blue sea thing, to be exact, and this week we are learning all about the beauty and majesty of the deep blue sea. I say we are learning because it seems there is quite a lot I don’t know about the ocean. For example, I’ve only just learned that, not only is coral alive, it also gives birth to real-life coral babies! Mind blown.

It just goes to show how sound asleep I’ve been for the majority of my life, sticking to the lanes I already know. The beautiful news is: there is a brighter shine to my perspective now that I’ve opened my eyes. The world seems magical and alive, again, more than ever before.

There is a small problem. There are so many wondrous, exciting, beautiful pathways to explore, and yet there is the lingering truth that finding time (and energy) to explore them remains a challenge. I’m part parent, part human with desires of my own. I’m not sure I’ll ever find the balance it takes to successfully master both at the same time, but I’ll never stop trying.

Let the life within me swell from the excitement of possibility, and let these sweet babes of mine feed off the shine in their hopeful Mum’s eye.

Life is beautiful, and mine I will use to explore as I will.

macro photography of white coral
Photo by Egor Kamelev on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

Little Sun

Never forget, little Sun.

You are so loved.

Categories
Poetry

Tonight

Tonight

I tear again.

The ache of a mother

remembering her ducklings, sweet.

It’s a long, long road to the deep end of a soul.

And some days ripple and crash

more than other days do.

The rain falls inside.

Tonight.

mother holding her baby
Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com

Categories
The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 18. The Little Boy

Darling is the little boy that cannot sleep.

‘I think I need a bandaid, Mum. Mum? I think I need a bandaid.’

They start their tricks young, these beautiful tiny humans, don’t they.

Categories
The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 11. Nan

She was just one of those people everyone loved.

Darling, through and through.

When she was good, she was like an orange wind, laced with mint and strawberry sweet. She was kind, but not in a: ‘Hi, how are you?’ sort of way. She was kind in a: ‘Let me hold your soul for you,’ sort of way.

Of course, she had her demonic side, as we all do from time to time on the ever puffing human train. But her darling side far outweighed any dark side of the moon nonsense circling her sky.

She was the first non-doctor to hold my tiny human body, before even my Mum.

She was also the first to hold my soul, and really truly keep it home.

And so today’s darling day is for you, Nan.

I hope you look down and smile every time I do the ‘Nan dance’ on the porch or cartwheel alongside the car to wish my babies the happiest of goodbyes. I learned all of that silly beautiful from you. And as long as I live, I’ll be proud that most of me is made from the love you gave me.

I now share that love with the world, because it’s the only thing that feels truly right to me—so thank you, Nan.

Thank you for teaching me what true love is.

Always in my heart, sweet lady.

Every darling day of mine.

pensive grandmother with granddaughter having interesting conversation while cooking together in light modern kitchen
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

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