The other night I danced and laughed late into the night like I hadn’t a care in the world. I was a touch rough around the edges the following day but it was worth it. I felt great. 6 months previously I had taken a call from an old colleague asking me to come back to work on a big job with her.
With promises of shorter hours (everyone had had babies since last we worked together) I took the job with some trepidation. All I remembered was the angst, the stress, the long hours. I had given up work in this area when number one arrived. This was not an easy career choice for a couple who were both freelance but it would not have worked with us both working long hours.
My husband took centre stage and I dove headlong into motherhood. My initial feeling to the job offer was to say no…then I added up the financial side. I rang the local creche and by pure coincidence they had two spaces. All the signs were telling me to take it. I dug out the lap top and I started the following week.
Within a few days it was like I had never left. Aside from the addition of DropBox to our workings nothing had changed. Nothing except me. I wasn’t the slim, party girl anymore. I was a wife, a mum, queen of the house. I had three people whose lives were thrown into disarray. My house took a nose dive into what can only be described as a squat. The washing piled high. There were tears everyday at creche. Dinner was haphazard if it arrived at all.
Then, after a few weeks everything settled. There were no more tears at creche. My husband evolved into a great working house husband. I arranged a cleaner on a Friday. With a weekly wage the stress of chasing overdue cheques waned. There was money for treats. I realised I was laughing louder than I had been for a while. I was feeling pretty, wearing nice clothes and make up. I was somebody again and it felt good. My giddiness was back but most importantly I was being a better mum and wife than I was before.
The time I now had with my kids was so precious. I didn’t care about strict bedtime routine, cleaning the house. We played. They chatted. I listened. Of course there were sad times like not collecting my little girl when she started school and not bringing them to the beach on a hot day. The kids won’t remember that. They will remember mammy being happy and fun.
As I danced and laughed that Thursday night I realised I had found myself again. Motherhood hadn’t taken me away. My metamorphis into motherhood had been tainted by bad health and financial struggles. I had just got lost in the fog of life.
I am a firm believer that when things just fall into your lap they should always be embraced. I missed many, many things this Summer but we all still gained.
I had enviously watched the kids run down the path to Daddy everyday. Now they had a chance to miss me and while I missed them too, there is nothing like the squeals of “maaaaaaammmy” and excited faces at the window when your car pulls up to the house to make it all worthwhile. Motherhood isn’t being a mother. It is being someone who is a mother.
Today’s post is part of the Moods of Motherhood blogging carnival celebrating the launch of the second edition of Moods of Motherhood: the inner journey of mothering by Amazon bestselling author, Lucy H. Pearce (published by Womancraft Publishing). Today over 40 mothers around the world reflect on the internal journey of motherhood: raw, honest and uncut. To see a list of the other contributors and to win your own copy visit Dreaming Aloud.net