I’ve been at home with Oscar since the day he was born. I’ve cared for him, entertained him, taught him, fed him, kept him alive. I’ve spent two and a half years generally worrying about everything we’re doing. And it doesn’t change. 819 days down the line and I’m still worrying. Only now it’s less about how much he’s eaten or how many poos he’s done in a day and more about the tantrums he thrown and his continued lack of discernible speech. God knows in a few months it’ll be something else, I’m sure. My whole life has been taken up by him and in January 2015 he starts nursery. I’m so excited for both of us. He will get so much out of it and I will get time to do other stuff. Like think, write, work, breathe? Who knows. Whatever, it’s safe to say I can’t wait! 24/7 care is exhausting. In five months everything will be changing and when I think about it I do a little internal happy dance. I can’t wait. But on the other hand, in five months everything will be changing and when I think about it my stomach drops. My son will no longer be the baby I’ve dedicated every minute to since he was born. He wont be with me 24/7. What on earth will I do? Time is going far to fast and it scares the pants off me.
I can’t wait. But in the same moment I absolutely can. It’s so confusing, although I don’t expect any of this will ever change. I have a sneaky suspicion it’ll be like this for his whole childhood, possibly his whole life.
But for now I have five months. And in that five months I feel like I should be making the most of every second, committing every tiny detail to memory, finding exciting things to fill our days. I know I wont ever get this time back.
And yet some days I just can’t do it.
Some days I leave him to play alone, while I do boring stuff like washing or finding an electrician or eBaying old clothes. It’s just stuff. It wouldn’t matter if I did it later on, when he was asleep, would it? But some days I just get so bored. Of him, of us, of what we do, no matter how much I attempt to mix it up. I get bored of the tantrums, of the things he wants to do, of the time we spend together. And I feel like the worlds worst bitch when I do. Don’t get me wrong, there are some days when I feel totally blessed. Days when I suddenly realise I’m doing what I was always meant to do. Days when things feel so sublime I think I might explode from the perfection of it all. But there are days when I am so bored with the everydayness of it that I want to cry. And some days when I do.
How do I make those few short months count? How do I make the most of the time we have? How do I keep the boredom at bay? Basically, how do I keep things perfect? D’you know, I’m not convinced I can. And the more I think about it I’m not convinced I should try. This is life. It’s not an exam. I don’t have to get top marks in everything to be a good mother, a good person. Do I? I’m with him. Just because we’re not doing exciting things, making exciting memories every minute, and just because I find him boring sometimes doesn’t mean I don’t love him. Imagine if you had to spend all that time with anyone other than your child. I’m sure you’d be sick of the sight of them sooner or later. And quite rightly so. And I wouldn’t have a problem with that, so why do I feel bad about occasionally being sick of the sight of my son? It’s definitely one of the things about being a stay at home mum that no one mentions when you take the decision to be one!
I think nursery might actually be the best thing for us. It’ll give us time to miss each other. Maybe then I’ll be more able to appreciate the time we do have, the things we do together, the love we share.
Yeah, thinking about nursery today only makes me do an internal happy dance. 🙂