The days of a mummy
During Father’s Day I decided to treat my son to a day out of the house. The weather as you well know has been conniving with the clouds to deny him the much needed sun. Once upon a time, it did not matter whether or not the sun shone. Or if it rained elephants and the mud was a metre high. But, as a mother, it bothers me to bits if it doesn’t shine.
While I appreciate that we need the rain for the continued development of agro industries, it does not help my son. I worry that he will get a cold, a flu or, worse, pneumonia. Such worries make me sleep less, eat more, spend more calling my house, stay awake watching the child, visit the doctor often just to be sure and get jumpy when the boy sneezes. Now this is not exactly a recipe for a relaxed, jolly and optimistic life.
My many days as a mummy, have made me just fly by the seat of my pants, dashing between dishes, diapers and deadlines. And though my Montessori training gave me a head start at understanding what makes children tick, to be honest, nothing in this world could have prepared me for the surprises that daily living with a child could bring. And nothing will require so much of you for so long like being a mummy.
Think of Michelle Obama. A powerful, composed woman who is in charge of her affairs, no doubt. But with all that she has, what did she do when Barrack won the presidency of the United States of America? She called in her mummy to move into the White House. Her job description to date is not just about being a grandma, but she helps with both Malia and Sasha when America’s first couple is busy. It goes to show that no matter how good a mama you are, you always need some help.
If only I had ruby slippers! Then I would dance down the Yellow Brick Road of motherhood, I’d be the mistress of directions and landmarks and vista points and perilous places. But roadway to motherhood cannot be really specific, because all mummies and all children are different.
I am learning that being a mummy is a road map I have to chart for myself little by little as both of us grow and that everyday is an opportunity to understand and bond with my feisty bundle of joy.
Notice I left out the word little because even when they grow big physically, mothers always say … my little one! I gather the panic you feel when your one day old baby cries at midnight, is the very same feeling you experience when you watch the same baby in a graduation gown being granted a Masters degree in some strange field like Otolaryngology. Oh the many days as a mummy … amazing!
END: BL 34/22