You know that picture perfect image you have of motherhood? Nursing a child in a rocking chair, bathed in the light from a sunbeam, filtering into the window through gauzy curtains? Making idyllic flower chains, catching tadpoles, curling up in a comfy chair to read fairytales?
Cut to pregnant back aches, 2 days of a strong willed toddler on nap strike, gall stones. She’s cranky, been short on sleep but tall on independence and meltdowns. I’m cranky, tired as f@*k of trying to choke down turkey meatloaf (how unappealing the texture of ground turkey is to a pregnant woman) in an effort to avoid fatty foods/gall attacks. Exhaustion abounds, as I try to tempt the child into watching Paw Patrol so I can scramble together a pretty lacklustre meal (it included instant mashed potatoes). Said child was having no part in being hypnotized by television, for she insists upon helping with all meal prep. This is a great ambition and a wonderful skill to foster, and I’m keen to help it flourish. But, sometimes I’m interested in the easiest route.
Distraction: Mr sketch markers and a coloring book
Cut to me putting meal prep on hold to attend to her sudden need to decorate….my kitchen floor
After a brief chat, a stern reminder of the fact that colors belong on the paper, not the floor, and Pepper’s excited foray into magic erasering the floor, dinner resumed, helper in tow.
Baby bump gave me a huge karate chops as if to say, hey mom, you’re building another one, remember? To remind me, soon, well be adding one more to the crazy tribe.
Baby bump danced until dinner, during which Pep ate 3 helpings of freeze dried potatoes (what?!). I couldn’t help feeling like the little gal was chuckling, saying to herself, Let the Wild Rumpus Start.
Really, no idyllic sunbeams, but I’m pretty sure this is the natural flow of parenting, anyway. How boring it would be without the madness.
Beautiful chaos, right?