Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The End of an Era
As a mum of toddlers, your life is so frantic and absorbed in your kids and not absorbed in your own, that you crave those days when they're at preschool and you can "get a little of you back". I say this in quotes as if others have said it, but really it's come from my own mouth often.
And then your toddlers grow a little and you get another day or so . And then they grow a little more and start school. Then you got a whole lot of time to be you, to work, to exercise, to do whatever, and to have a think about who you are again, or what the new you looks like. Nothing show-stopping here, this is just the reality of life and growing up.
You think back on the "hard" days (I'm thinking of a wet frozen mum, one shivering toddler and one squirmy baby in the swimming pool change rooms where as you attempt to quickly shove reluctant, damp legs into trackies and simultaneously open a bag of rice wheels while stopping the baby rolling off the change table, you realise you've just blown 30 bucks on half an hour of singing Hokey Tokey in the water, when you could have done it at home for free, while warm and dry. We've all been there, we all have our own version of pain.
I came home from a run today, and flicked on the TV while I stretched. I eventually found a reality programme of "billionairess" Tamara Ecclestone, and immediately decided I wanted to trade lives with her, as long as I got to bring my boys and The Husband. Seriously I could do with a weekly mani-pedi in the comfort of my gazillion dollar home too.
But before I found that thought provoking piece I found Fifi and the Flower Pot Men on a kids channel. I have had 3 boys, they never did Fifi, but still, those days are over now. No-one in my house watches any of those "kids" programmes anymore. They're at that next stage (actually not that my kids watch TV since I began my role as the Electronic Police and Tormenter, along with my trusty sidekick, the microwave timer). But do you get what I'm saying?
That phase is over. My kids will never watch those programmes again, I will never have a curly headed fella lying in a Thomas beanbag at 3.30 on a weekday afternoon, still foggy from his afternoon sleep, watching The Tweanies or Caillou. Peacefully.
My boys don't even do playgrounds anymore (unless they're allowed to take their scooters in and terrorise other kids hooning around at breakneck speed). I won't be able to push any squealing little guy high and higher for as long as I can before the next kid comes along wanting a turn.
No more special days, no more Mum and Smith days, no more carrying my boys places.
Fact; I don't get to carry my kids anymore. Holy moley, I just realised that!
The era has finished and I didn't even realise it was going to. Don't wish away these years. Just love them.
Do you get me? What do you miss?