It's that time just before you finally crash for the night. I'm feeding you in bed and you pull on and off the breast, thrashing your body around, wee fat fists balled up. You pull away and collapse onto your back on the duvet, arms wide like a dead starfish, me breathing a sigh of relief. Then boom you're up again, drinking with feet kicking me in the jaw. Often I'm tired and impatient but tonight I get the giggles. Babies are impossible, so full of life.
I'm hot and dirty from the garden but you wouldn't be kept waiting so I've flagged a shower for the night. Amazing how self care reaches all time lows as a Mum. Your cheeks are wet with the tears you shed as I hurriedly brushed my teeth so that's all I've managed. My mouth and skin are as dry as February in Tarras and in desperation for some hydration I grasp for a pottle of ancient moisturiser and plaster it on my face. Well I think it's moisturiser. Who cares.
It's actually a great feeling no longer caring much about appearance. I'm more happy in my soul as a Mum. There's a knowing that has returned. Needing to be strong for little people, to give certainty. And man am I more angry. I found it confronting at first, the waves of anger that would suddenly rise up. But now I'm a bit more accepting of it...usually it's because I'm carrying some ridiculous load like a bloody donkey martyr, and need to ask for support. Which I do so graciously through resentful gritted teeth.
Today we did a bit in the garden. And when I say a bit, I mean I planted two tomatoes in the greenhouse and then your brother drenched you with the garden hose. You were howling and soaked from head to toe. I took you inside to change you into fresh clothes after some firm words with Charlie. We got back out and you did a poo straight away in your fresh nappy. Back inside. Charlie and I planted three marigolds after googling that they can help with white butterflies. Then turned around and you had pulled all the heads off the tulips which I'd been waiting months to bloom. Oh well whatevs, they were nice for a day. I remembered the load of washing, brought it out to hang, you played with pegs for a bit and then Charlie tipped the peg basket over your head. Such a joy this toddler stage.
I stroke the golden wisps of your hair and take you in, knowing I'll wish back on these times. But at the same time hoping you'll get a move on and go to sleep because I'm busting for a pee. I mindlessly hum a tune, a mash up of Humpty Dumpty and The Cranberries Zombie. Such a soothing lullaby.
Out the window the spring colours fade into dusk, a warm norwester blowing. The miniature horses are grazing underneath the trampoline in the horse paddock. 'Devil horses' our local digger driver called them when he was here, as they tried to bolt for the open gate. Everything looks idyllic at this time of year; vibrant green paddocks, lamb gangs racing, gardens bursting into bloom. The thistles haven't even started showing much yet, though the boys will be getting ready to wage war on them. There is a cheeky kingfisher living in the trees up the drive, he calls out goodnight.
And now you're asleep, your dense little bod peaceful and your head squidged up, heavy on my chest. All is right with the world. Good night precious one ❤️
