Happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful mummies, mommies, mamans out there. You do, WE do a bloody amazing job!
I was scrolling mindlessly through my Instagram feed, in my tiny American bath. You know, the ones which almost sole’s purpose is to act as a shower tray. Shall we talk about these? Is there any, I mean ANY reason these exist. It is a huge foot bath or the tiniest bath? Anyway, mine will soonish be a thing of the past and it will get its own blog post but in the meantime every now and then I fill it to the brim, try not too move too fast to avoid a tidal wave, I close my eyes and imagine that this is an actual regular size bath…
Tonight while trying to soak some parts of my body and sipping rose, I was reading through Instagram… then Facebook… posts after posts of beautiful images of lovely brunches and photos taken of mommy and kids. Everyone dressed, mommy looking fresh, hair washed and blow dried, make up applied, kids smiling, beautiful roses and handmade cards. And then it hit me again. This comparison game, the cruel game that slaps you across the face every now and then.
Why am I so useless at taking that once a year shot of the 3 of us? The photo that will fix in time that day, every year, to remind me that I made these two growing human beings, who I love fiercely and who make me so proud at times that my heart could burst… and at times so mad that the walls could explode, but let’s just brush over that fact…
One of the reason for this, is the fact that rarely you will find me with make up and dressed up on Mother’s Day. I tend to spend half of it in my pyjamas, lazy in bed and the other half in the comfiest cozies I possess. My hair is generally half brushed in a top knot and if anyone attempts to take a picture of me that day, I react in a rockstar fashion and demand for the photo to be deleted at once!
So I have come to term with the fact that I might never have a photo of the boys and me or my brunch on that specific day and that’s ok.
I made my own brunch by the way, because everyone was taking too long to get going and I was starving.
And that’s ok too, because I know I am loved, I know they care. I read it everyday in their eyes. I feel it in the way every night E fights with me when I tell him “I love you more”. It enrages him, the game of “no, I love you more” starts and he won’t bow down, so I do, knowing deep down that he can never love me more than I do love him.
I feel it in the huge fierce hug V gives me every morning while he tells me that he could not have a better mum, or when we sing “You are my sunshine” together at bedtime.
So there, here I am with my cliché. There is a little bit of Mother’s Day in every days, so I will reserve the right to take a picture of the 3 of us when the light, the mood, my hair are all ready for it!
Once again, Happy Mother’s Day, may it be sweet, lovely, full of roses and kisses and not just today but most days. You, we, deserve it xxx