motherhood

The eternal mother

My best friend from high school gave me this necklace last Sunday at Jamie’s birthday. She’d told me that it was called The Eternal Mother necklace as she placed the gift wrapped package in my hands. When I opened it at home, later, I was so very touched by her gift: it was a bird on a branch, protecting her egg – her baby – in the nest below.

The name of the necklace seems so appropriate, because motherhood changes us. Permanently. Once you become a mother, you forever remain a mother. Whether our child is two weeks old, one year old, in primary school, at university, or forty years old with their own children, he or she will always be our baby. And for those of us who have lost a child (or children), you never stop being their mother either. You never stop loving. You never stop caring. You never stop pondering. You never stop yearning. You never stop mothering.

I don’t have many necklaces that I consider to be all that precious, but this one is definitely a keeper. Thank you, San, for thinking of me. Motherhood is indeed a precious gift, one that I will never take for granted.

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Stormy

Tonight I couldn’t help but cry as I was drying Pete after his bath. He broke out in hives yesterday and his whole body was covered in big red blotches. It just breaks my heart to see his skin like that and to know that he’s all itchy and uncomfortable without being able to do anything about it.

That’s the thing about being a parent. Everything can shift in a matter of days, hours or minutes. One moment you can be coping just fine, and everything seems ‘okay’ and manageable, and then the next, everything breaks loose – hives, stress, screams, demands, snotty noses, sleepless nights – and all you want to do is just collapse on the couch and cry it out. (Yet again. I seem to love crying on the couch.)

At least with a storm, you can always tell when one is brewing and can hence run for cover (or pull the clothes off the line) before the lightning strikes.

But parenting? It gets me every time.

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Recharging

It was quiet in the house today for about two and a half hours while all three boys slept. Those are the hours in the day that allow me to recharge, regroup and refocus. As much as I love the boys, I also love the down times. Jamie, as usual, was the first one to stir. He didn’t want his milk. He didn’t want his rice cereal. So I gave him a water cracker.

That, he liked.

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A heartfelt message

Happy fourth birthday Cam.

Wish you were here.

Love always,
Mum xoxo

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Beauty

Yesterday morning as I was drying my hair, Angus sat quietly on our bed and watched me.

As I packed away the hair dryer and turned around to look at him, he said, “Your hair is beautiful, mummy.”

We then lay on the bed side by side for some time as he held my hair in his hand.

“I’m playing with your hair, mummy.”

“Yes you are, little man.”

Such are the moments in the day that make me smile – both inside and out.

Is there anything more beautiful than being a mum?

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Saturday Specials

// Strolling in the dark…
// Sitting with Gung Gung…
// Waking up from the midday nap…
// Mucking around in the dark…

How awesome is my mum?

Rick was away for the weekend and so my dear mum came to stay with me to offer some moral support.

Turns out she did a lot more than that. Not only did she help me entertain, feed and bathe the boys each day, she even let me sleep in till almost eleven while she single-handedly got the boys out of bed, made them breakfast, fed them breakfast and then kept them happy while I snoozed and snoozed and snoozed some more.

I hope I will be just as awesome one day.

How was everyone else’s weekend?

(Linking up with Amanda’s weekending.)

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Blue eyed baby

I’m not imagining things right – Jamie really does seem to have somewhat blue eyes. Or at the very least, they’re not brown.

Which is strange, because I always thought that if an asian marries a caucasian, any offspring would only have brown eyes.

But maybe I was wrong. Or maybe I just heard wrong in Science class (it wouldn’t be the first time).

Either way, I’m not complaining because I’d always thought it would be kind of cool to have a blue-eyed baby. Plus, whatever colour they are, I think Jamie’s eyes are just absolutely beautiful.

Anyway, the little guy turned three months yesterday and to mark the occasion, he finally pulled a two-hour daytime nap for mummy. Boy was I impressed. If only I’d known in advance, I would’ve tried to lie down for a nap myself!

It’s strange to think that he’s only been ‘on the outside’ for some twelve weeks, because honestly, I almost can’t remember what life was like before him. I feel like I’ve always known his face, and that he’s always been around. I remember feeling the same way about Angus and Pete.

Motherhood is a funny and beautiful thing. It makes you want to cry, and it makes you want to laugh. It makes you want to explode sometimes, and other times it makes you want to sing and dance.

Mostly, it’s taught me how precious life is and how blessed we are to have been given our little boys. All four of them.

To my blue eyed baby: Happy three months little man! I love you more than you know.

(And thanks for not peeing on me anymore like you used to…)

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Moments like this

I’m sitting here with Pete at a cafe – he’s eating a bread roll from Brumbys and I’m sipping frothy latte. He’s happily watching people come up and down the escalator while I’m typing away on my laptop. Occasionally, we sneak playful glances at each other. When we happen to catch the other’s eye, we have a bit of a giggle. We also lean into each other and swap kisses and hugs. During one of these exchanges, I realise that he’s discovered how to play with my hair. It is so precious I almost swoon. Yes, parenting can be a tough gig, but gosh moments like this make it all worthwhile.

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The joy and pain of Mother’s Day

Rick’s gift to me yesterday for Mother’s Day (on behalf of the boys) was a fifteen minute sleep in. That’s worth about five hours in the world of early parenting. Boy was I grateful.

He brought all three boys into the bedroom to wake me up.

Through bleary eyes, I saw Pete’s head bounce up and down beside my side of the bed as he mumbled “mum, mum, mum, mum, mum…”

Next came Rick in his dress gown with James in his arms looking rather curious with his eyebrows slightly raised (one of his signature looks, I might add).

Then I detected Angus’ rather tall silhouette approaching at the end of the bed as he wished me, “Happy mother’s day, mummy!”

I don’t think I could’ve asked for more.

But Mother’s Day is not always a joyous day for everybody.

There are many whose mums have died, many whose mums are unwell, many who are separated from their mums, many who long to get on well with their mums, many who have lost little ones to whom they were mums and many who long to be mums themselves.

I still remember my first Mother’s Day, which was filled with much heartache and grief. We had lost Cameron only eight months earlier, and the pain of being a mum without her child was more than I could bear. The flowers and cards on that day from family and friends who remembered that I was a mother were utterly precious to me.

So let us think of those for whom Mother’s Day is a difficult and painful day.

And let us let them know that we are thinking of them, and that they are not alone.

(The flowers above were from my beautiful friend Megan on that first Mother’s Day…)

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