I think I definitely started this year off on the wrong foot. My first post of the new year was all about how unhappy I am with my weight, and my post baby body, and although I was unhappy with it over the Christmas period, I was distracted from it by how busy everything was, and how much fun I was having. But of course, there’s nothing like Dreaded January, to magnify your blues, and mock you with the extra pounds of Baileys weight being sported by each hip. January stands there guffawing as you cry over your bank statement, and reminds you how far away you are from a hint of sunshine by raining all over you every time you leave the house. January got me hard!
January also marks the anniversary of something that happened a year ago, which I now call my Bridget Jones moment. You know, the moment Bridget turns up at a party having been told its fancy dress, and nobody else is in fancy dress. That wasn’t what actually happened, but that is how I felt, and there was a party involved. It’s a fairly tragic tale, that I won’t go into now, but give me a shout if you wish to hear it, I’m quite happy to tell you! Anyway, thanks to social media, a load of pictures from the party showed up, (social media loves an anniversary!) and although I look ok in the pictures, how I felt at the time was a whole different story, and seeing them pop up again just made me feel quite sad. The people involved in the Bridget Jones moment were some of my oldest friends, and I’ve previously blogged about how sad I am about the break down of our relationship, seemingly because I had children, and their indifference towards my children, which cuts me like a blunt machete, leaving me spurting out hurt and pain, and dressing a very painful wound. The Bridget Jones moment was my last ditch attempt at attending something I knew they’d be at, to see if anything had changed, or was salvageable. It’s a decision I now of course, regret.
So, on Friday last week, I was grappling with leftover January blues, which were spilling over into February, a resurgence in the feelings of hurt and shock that I’d felt after the Bridget Jones moment, and getting a very reluctant Deep Thinker to nursery. Up a very large hill. On a buggy board. In the aftermath of Storm Imogen…I was also debating my inner struggle with social media. I used it very little prior to blogging, because I considered it a fake snapshot into peoples lives, and I wasn’t tech savvy anyway. I constantly wished I’d been born in the 40’s, whose clothes and shoes I love, and where people had a great time at the local dance on a Saturday and didn’t spend the whole evening checking into Facebook, and defining their lives by how many likes they could get on their pictures of them doing the Jitterbug with Fred from down the road. I now find myself totally immerged in it, because it provides a brilliant platform for my blog, and for meeting other bloggers. This inner struggle had bubbled to the surface again, because the Bridget Jones moment pictures had reminded me again so starkly, of why I disliked social media in the past. I resolved that I must try and find a balance between life, and the desire to check my notifications constantly. I resolved that as soon as Deep Thinker was safely at nursery, I was going to do something really fun with Mini Assassin. Just the two of us (something he has never experienced, this was going to be his first full day alone with me in his entire life.) I was leaving my phone out of the equation.
Once Deep Thinker was wrestled into nursery, and had been talked into realising he was actually going to have the time of his life, me and Mini Assassin trundled off, and I asked him what he wanted he wanted to do. I should’ve known he’d give his default answer-‘park.’ I indicated the current storm, and mentioned every indoor activity I could think of, but ‘park’ was the only answer he was willing to give, and he is well aware that Deep Thinker’s nursery is right next to his favourite park, and he started running towards it. Sod it, I thought. This is his first ever day on his own with me, he can do what he wants. We were both in wet weather clothes, he is a child who doesn’t notice any kind of extreme weather going on around him, if he didn’t care that it was raining, I would try my best, (but be dying inside a little,) not to either.
As it was 8.30 in the morning, and bucketing with rain, the park was understandably empty of any living soul. From the lack of the usual squirrel army, and mountains of fox poop, even the wildlife had decided they weren’t brave enough to face it. And we had the time of our lives! We rolled in the sandpit, we went on the swings, and the best bit, we rode the zip wire together what must’ve been at least 7.2 million times…! Every time we’d finished, screams of ‘again!! Again!!’ cut through the rain, and every time we hit maximum speed, he turned to look at me. Every time he looked at me, there was a fresh delight on his face that were as if he were doing it for the first time, all over again. It was then that it hit me, and actually took my breath away a little… I was hit by the fact that I spend so much time fretting about how hard being a mum is, and how I never have any time to myself, and how I treat a lot of it as a slog, trying to use humour to see a light at the end of the tunnel. I saw how I’m channelling too much energy into worrying that my needs aren’t being met, and feeling sad and overly reflective about relationships that are over, and finished, that were with people who are not nice people, who I don’t need in my life anymore. I was too busy with all of that to notice what I have. Right there, in that moment, I had a child whose biggest delight was riding the zip wire over and over with his mummy. He didn’t want, or need anybody else at that second, he only had eyes for me. My little ray of sunshine, through a veil of rain. I had the same feeling when I collected Deep Thinker, who ran at me so hard I fell over, and announced ‘mummy, I missed you sooooooooooo much. And I love you.’ It doesn’t make it any less hard, and it won’t make some days any less of a slog, but it was a moment that provided a fresh perspective, and helped blow away the blues and the demons. I am the centre of somebody’s world, for now, and I need to remember that, and see that every time my babies look at me.
Thanks for reading!