Today I turned thirty-four. Yikes! As a teenager, I would have officially deemed that as ‘ancient’. You know it’s bad when you have to keep scrolling down at the age range section upon signing up for things.
Leading up to my birthday, Eldest asked me what present I would like from him, being careful to remind me that he ‘would not be spending his money, however’ (MY money son, that you stole). After contemplating for a while, I replied ‘I would like you boys to say thank you when I do things for you. I would also like you all to stop stripping off the moment you get into the house and leaving various items of clothing strewn in every room’. He looked at me like I had just asked him for a million pounds, then responded, ‘I can definitely do the thank you thing but I don’t think I can do the other one’. At least he is honest and know’s his limits I suppose.
On the morning of my birthday, the boys bounded in filled with excitement. They then proceeded to open all my presents on me. I don’t know why I expect anything different each year. They then fought over who could cuddle me first. Eldest flung himself over me, Middle started kissing my arm up and down (randomly) and Baby was throwing a right fit as he couldn’t get anywhere near me despite his attempts to climb over the other two. As the chaotic scene around me unfolded, I thought to myself, they may not say thank you, they may strip naked continually, they may drive me bat shit crazy on occasions, they may fight and whinge for most of the day but, they do actually love me. What more could a girl want on her birthday?
Today I have found myself reflecting on last year as a whole. I lost myself for most of it. I’ve drowned in motherhood, I’ve fought severe depression and at times I’ve just felt like I wanted to run away. Runaway and have one day of zero responsibilities and zero military organisation. A day to just sleep and recoup, a day to maybe go get my hair done and be pampered. I guess, a day to find me again! You know the person I was before all this? A person who didn’t get anxious, who was motivated and saw positives in everything. To be honest, if it wasn’t for the boys, I don’t know what the outcome would have been this year. I really found myself in the darkest of places without the will or want to even fight it. They kept me going because, you can’t just stop being a ‘mum’, despite how bad you feel. They need interaction, bathed, fed and homework completed. When at times my brain was deserting me, I was pulled out of it by having to go get one of them milk or whatever else they were demanding. Because, despite how bad I felt in myself, my love for them never diminished. My need to ensure that they were ok and cared for never wavered. They are my greatest achievement at the age of thirty-four after all.
My aim for this birthday year is simple. I want to be more relaxed with regards to everything I feel I have to do. I want to be able to say f*ck the cleaning and tidying and go have a bath instead. I want to be able to ask for more help when it comes to family. I want to go out once a month and eat a meal in absolute peace and quiet. I’m going to demand this. I’m going to put myself first, even if it’s only once a month. Because, if I don’t, the cycle continues. The boys see women as mere robots, there to serve their needs whilst neglecting their own. I’m pretty certain that’s not the example I want to set. I want them to treat women with the utmost respect. To appreciate them for everything they do. I want them to be considerate and loving towards them. I can’t expect them to do all that whilst I sit here self-loathing and running myself ragged can I? It’s time this mama toughened up and started laying down the law with regards to self-care and me time. I had been doing so well before.