Cake for breakfast and other stories

Life is hard. This is no revelation and as a mother you kinda float through daily life on auto pilot forgetting, each day, a little of yourself, who you where before you created mini monsters that suck the joy out of a pee break.

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I don’t know about you but I try and snatch the best of the day for myself, whether its an early morning dog walk with not a soul in sight and just bird song for company or that wedge slice of chocolate cake at 5am you are calling “breakfast” because no one else is up yet to use their disapproving glare on you and no tiny voices asking to share.

Now don’t get me wrong I love my children and Ive accomplished more as a mother than I ever did at anything else. It’s the longest I’ve ever stuck out the same job and its the longest (bar the husband) that I’ve spent with anyone else but with the responsibility of home education, a slightly neurotic dog and a pair of chickens with a people complex ( they strut into the kitchen like they bloody live here) it can all become a little overwhelming.

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Then comes the “pact” to yourself that you are gonna change things, that something in your regimented lifestyle has to give. You vow to loose the cake gutt you have acquired after all the 5am cake breakfast starts or you pick a hobby you want to master or a fashion look you know will look killer on you even if it is chocolate smeared and covered in dog hairs but in all honesty you know its all in vain, within 48 hours all the gym goodies you bought have made their way onto eBay and that hair dye has come and gone and you are back to the same old comfy jeans and loose fitting tshirt.

So why do we do it to ourselves? Pile on the pressure to be more, have more, need more. Why can’t we simply just accept that motherhood and parenting is simply that first summer job you simply loved to hate. The first pay packet stuffed full of crisp notes all for you, giving you that freedom to do exactly what you wanted but with the deep seated notion that within 24 hours you are back to stripping down beds or flipping burgers and dealing with less than thankful customers. Yes parenting is a crappy summer job that lasts a lifetime!

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But would we change it? No we probably wouldn’t, after all who’s going to teach these tiny people the joys of pj days, star wars marathons and cake for breakfast. Who’s going to explain that your birthday is the only day in the year you can do, eat and wear whatever the hell you want, that dressing up clothes are simply better than regular clothes and should be wore for all occasions and that blanket forts on a wet afternoon are what childhood is all about. Who cares about the washing up or that mountain of ironing when your children are belly laughing at their dad’s idea of pop culture and their tiny concentrating faces whilst whooping Grandma’s ass on Mario Kart. This, this is what we as parents should be striving for. Children never remember what it costs only how it made them feel, so feel through this job. Embrace the smiles, cry together over Doctor Who on Christmas Day and take the bad days with the good for one day these tiny people will be big people with tiny people of their own and they to will want to pass on the wisdom of pj days and cake for breakfast.

Break the convention, there’s no point being a grown up if you can’t be childish sometimes!

 

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