Gimmie a break

They say that being a parent is the best thing you will ever do it your life. Your best accomplishment and something that most women cannot wait to to be. let me tell you, who ever said that was fucking lying. Before anyone jumps to conclusion I love every tiny cell of my boys and if anyone were to harm them or even come near, trust me nothing could hold me back. But sometimes, just sometimes I want out.

When I found out I was pregnant I had ideals on what it would be like to raise my child/children. I would be a blissfully happy stay and home mum who planned lots of activities for them to do each day. I would be a patient saint. I would be baking and crafting and preparing home cooked meals for my partner to come home to every night in a spotlessly clean house. Fast forward two and a half years later and the boys are lucky if we bake once a week and Mark is lucky if his dinner is even ready. As for cleaning, if I have picked up the cheerios that landed on the rug this morning, I consider it a deep clean.

Having twins has tested every single limit of mine. I have hit my breaking point so many times I cant remember. I have done many things that I am not proud of whilst raising children. I have shouted, screamed, cried, cursed, dragged from public and probably shouted 'what the fuck is wrong with you' too many times.

But then the guilt kicks in. I forget that the boys have only been on this actual planet 27 months. I cannot expect a 2 year old to be able to understand when they cant have ice cream for breakfast and a slice of bread for dinner. If they want it, they want it. End of. I can teach them the best I can but we cant expect a 2 year old to be able to navigate their emotions and understand what it expected of them with little experience.

But just as they are learning their place in this world, I am learning my place on this world as their mother. I hope that I give them enough cuddles and kisses and reassurance every day that they feel secure and happy when going to bed every night. But also, I need the reassurance that I am doing a good job. The constant demanding wears me down, the endless picking up, the mess, the drinks spilled, the broken nights, the fighting all take their toll until I snap. I am no saint unfortunately but toddlers are little assholes! They are. But like I said before I love my children more  than anything. Maybe when they are a bit older, they will be easier. Looking back, the baby stage is so easy. The sleep, poop and eat. Brilliant. They do all that now but on a messier and louder scale.

Motherhood is definitely harder than I thought it would be. But I love it. Yes I love a break now and then. I crave silence. After a day at work on a Saturday and Sunday, my tolerance levels creep back up to normal after being completely diminished by 5pm on a Friday. But the little charge over the weekend is just enough to get me though the rest of the week. Just. That and perhaps a glass or two!