After what feels like a really long break away from my little world here on the blog, I am finally feeling motivated and energised enough after the birth of my son, who came by yet another C-section (my third one) that had a recovery period that was a little longer and harder than I expected, to get back into the swing of things.
I’ve been having lots of ideas for my blog popping into my head but with three kids three years and under I’m finding myself a little time poor, so I thought the easiest way for me to get back into blogging would be to share what I’ve been up to lately and where my headspace has been, delving into what its really like having three kids ages three and younger.
If you’re just stumbling across my blog, or have found me though a Google search, search title reading something along the lines of ‘stressed out with three kids’, ‘what its really like to raise three young children’ or the ever popular ‘the struggles of motherhood’ ect. I feel ya! I’ve done those searches. It’s simply a way of trying to connect with others and feel out if anyone else is experiencing what you are going through and in a sense validate any and all emotions involved in that process, cause I ain’t gonna lie… its hard work!
Before I get into it I almost feel like I need to do a little disclaimer. YES! I love, adore, cherish and am lucky to have my children, but I am also human, realistic, open and honest about what motherhood is really like. I like to verbalise what is almost taboo in the motherhood world, and give acceptance to emotions that are real yet condemned and often harshly judged by other mothers. It has taken me some time to get to this place, but I feel that it is a positive place. One where I can love my children wholeheartedly, without being a martyr to the cause of motherhood, and with regular ‘guilt free me time’ be more excitedly and consciously involved in my children’s lives, interests and everyday activities. I am a better mother who is more present and attentive if I a) take time for myself to breathe and be an individual with interests and hobbies outside of my role as mum, b) do so without guilt, I believe having children shouldn’t be a life sentence to the mundaneness and loneliness sometimes motherhood can bring, especially if like me you are a stay at home mum.
So here goes, the following is a little insight to what a typical morning consist of with yesterday morning being my inspiration.
And just for reference my children’s ages are; Mason 3 years 3 months, Rose 21 Months and my little baby Noah is 11 Weeks…
6.30am wakeup call from my eldest who shouts down the house, refusing to get out of bed without permission “mum, can I get up now?” a habit that started after I told him no, he could not be up at 5.30am. “It’s not 7 yet!” I shout back, too tired to get out of bed and tend to him… I also have a small child attached to my boob making it impossible to get up anyways. None of this is aided by my poor decision to stay up til 12.30 the night before cause someone thought (me, I thought) I was ready to start drinking caffeine again, short answer, Nope! Hoping to get 30mins more shut eye, I snuggle in with my youngest who, has decided he’s had enough boob and I can have it back, wishful thinking is all I can say. Masons wakeup call has woken the whole house up, so three tired soles drag themselves out of bed, and one bounding energiser bunny, and go down for breakfast.
Breakfast used to be such a simple task, it involved removing food item from packaging and eating said food item whilst calmly (and in a more awake state) sitting and enjoying the morning. It now involves one helper who insists he gets cereal, pores the milk and enthusiastically attempts to feed younger siblings (even the baby), and another child who prefers food only once it has either been thrown on the ground, found on the ground from unknown meal and source, or out of mums bowl, anything out of mums bowl. Okay! Breakfast done, time for nappy changes and getting ready for the day! Take deep breath and begin.
Rose has unceremoniously covered herself from head to toe in mushed up Weetabix which she has used her hands to shovel in her mouth, the spoon has gone missing presumably flung across the room, gets a wipe down, taken up to her room, carried of course because for the first 30mins of the day little miss insists on being carried everywhere and by insists I mean tantrums and screams the house down if she isn’t, a side effect of being woken to early thanks to her older brothers’ morning calls. Nappy gets changed, new one on, turn back to get clothes, nappy is off and on the floor, put on again. Struggle with kicks and flails from little miss as I attempt to put whatever clothing will stick on her on. Have given up on my children looking well dressed, if they are wearing clothes I am happy, and if said clothes aren’t last night’s pyjamas it’s an achievement worth being rewarded for. And TADA! One child is dressed.
Eldest child is sent up to go to the toilet and to take night nappy off, request is met with whines and feet stomping and a look that says ‘seriously mum, not now! can’t you see I’m busy being a toddler destroying your house with ‘play’ and watching but not watching the annoying kids movies that dominate television viewing times’. In the midst of dressing Mason the whining continues changing tune from ‘I don’t want to do (insert activity/request)’ to ‘I want (insert activity/request… which more often than not is food)’. As the last item of clothing goes onto my child, a jumper, he bursts into tears and throughs himself on the ground, purely because apparently my son is just really not into wearing jumpers even when freezing cold and sporting goose bumps and a blue tinge, from the noises he makes you would think I have reprimanded him for naughty behaviour or informed him I’ve finally come through on my threat to give all his toys away, that ladies and gentleman is a toddler tantrum! Calmly remind myself that I love my children and turn my attention to baby number three.
Noah, ah! Noah, the blissful, peacefully little gem who currently gives me no grief, just feeds, poops, cuddles, coos and smiles oh and laughs (adorable)! Effortlessly change youngest childs nappy even with the poo that is seeping out the top and sides of his full nappy, causes pooping daily is so last season my son prefers to save it up for a weekly poo explosion, this however am not bothered by, as a) I have three children, so I have seen it all, not much surprises me these days, b) he is still tiny and light as a feather compared to my other two so lifting legs and generally cleaning him takes seconds versus minutes of struggling and being kicked, and c) did I mention I have three children, if you let nappy changing get the best of you you’re in for a rough ride, cause how do I put this, kids poop a lot, like ridiculously so, there is just so much poo. Coo back at baby who is pleasantly smiling and just generally doing cute things (shun thought of, awe maybe I could have another baby? Cause that’s just crazy talk and being manipulated by a combination of cooing baby cuteness and leftover pregnancy hormones, the same hormones which have me sporting a face similar to that of my younger teenage years, awkward and puss filled, only now with the bonus of wrinkles, bags under my eyes and a pale and lifeless colouring, B-E-A-Utiful Huh!).
Wholly Molly Guacamole! (PG Rated swear words now common place in our household), the kids are dress, winning at life right now (if you ignore the messy house, piled up laundry, empty fridge, and slightly crazy and deranged mother, that’s me (points to self), who has just realised that she is not dressed! Crap! (swear jar) Open wardrobe, think who am I kidding, any clothing still remaining in the wardrobe will not fit my ‘lovely!?’ post baby body which no I have not lost ANY of the weight! Cause you know, like, that shit is hard work (swear jar, totally worth it!). Close wardrobe and continue looking for clothing on the floor. Do a happy dance, cause I have managed to find wait for it an entire outfit where only 1 of the items is slightly soiled by breast milk or baby spit up, and we are back to winning at life!
Go back down stairs, baby in arms, to find oldest child pouring leftover cereal milk all over the bench and topless, t-shirt obviously tangled up in jumper which was removed, who immediately spots me and demands food, a movie on, wants to play outside and the whereabouts of his favourite toy which changes so frequently I can’t keep up. Middle child is without nappy and there is a small suspicious pile of liquid on the floor, probably pee, I’m gonna say its pee, let’s just say it is pee. Yep its pee! Deep sigh! Attempt to find nappy, give up after half-heartedly scanning the room from where I’m standing, and decided 22c a nappy is a bargain and place her in a fresh one! Glance at the clock, whilst placing ravenous baby back onto the boob, it is now 8.00am and the day can begin… only 8hrs left til My Partner gets home!
I’m hoping to make this post ‘mummy diaries’ a regular post so look out for them if you enjoyed this one.