I haven't found much time to write lately. Actually, I haven't found much time for anything beyond the kids, and house chores, and the kids, and home ed, and the kids... Oh no hang on, almost all of that IS the kids!
My life has become completely absorbed in all things child-needing. And I love it... Or at least, I think I do.
No, that's not true. I DO love being their gravitational draw; their guiding star (yes, a cheesy Christmas reference), and beacon of 'Mum. I need my pull ups changing!' Good times!
I mean, 'It's not exactly what I signed up for...' is what I'd like to say. But actually I did, unwittingly.
I brought these babies into the world (a gruesome story I like to retell my acquired-since-then husband over and over again). And in doing so, I shared my wacky DNA with them (while my youngest shared his across the living room floor - a part said new husband prefers not to relive over and over again!) But reading the metaphorical small print apparently slipped my mind. It ping-ponged across the cheese board. Made hast with the cranberry sauce. And un-slipped it's feathers like a turkey on the roaster... Yes, these cherubs of anxiety and echolalia, aka Near-teen and Little Man as they've become known on my social media, arrived laden with extra curriculum parenting duties. We're not talking ballet recitals, or Sunday morning footy matches. No, my kids would rather eat a plate of cold Brussel Sprouts (oh yes, more Christmas puns - I'm on a roll!) than be seen running round a pitch.
And that's saying something, given that my youngest is offended by the mere idea of parsley garnish! No, my kiddos, my bundles of joyous joy, of late nights and dishevelled later starts, of endless washing, tears and classes that I don't even pretend to understand... Need me, more than anything else in the world.
They feel safe in our little bubble, the haven that I've created. And though tentatively finding their feet in the world, their gentle souls do so obviously stand out in the chaos.
I make them sound like such sweet angels... They're not!
Instead, they are chaos within themselves.
Near-teen has the ability to turn a perfectly organised space, or practically empty hallway, into a disaster zone in 3.4 seconds. And her anxiety driven, hormonally pumped mode swings rival that of a emotionally dysregulated elephant... Which is a thing by the way!
Little Man, on the other hand, is consistent: he consistently swings between Autism and ADHD. One minute he's echoing Albert Einstein's greatest theories, and the next, mimicking the effects of some socially unacceptable drugs in a slap you round the face kinda way.
(That last bit made me laugh at just how inappropriate it was... And the fact that I'm publishing it anyway!) These kiddos, they are the reason I drink such a vast amount of coffee. And not booze ironically - I never wanted to be in an emergency, and unable to jump in my car because I'd had a drink. It's a personal choice, and I judge no one for theirs.
My kids are the 'F**k me!' come 10pm when I crash out on the sofa, the reason I need under-eye concealer, and the push to 'people' when I don't want to, because, well, they need to 'people', even though they struggle to 'people'.
But what bewilders me more than any of this is that, for some reckless and inexplicable reason, the pair of them seem to think the sun shines out of my peachy derriere.
It’s as if they have created a narrative in their minds where I am the centre of an elaborate universe, radiating Freddo Frogs and spontaneous road trips.
And for someone who's never felt 'seen' in my whole life (baring one art teacher who was dazzled by my natural ability to draw), that can be overwhelming. Uh huh, I know - I sound like such an ungrateful mother fluffer. Oh poor me who's constantly asked for cuddles on the sofa with my Little Man... Oh poor me who often finds freshly baked cookies in the kitchen, thanks to Near-teen... Oh poor me who has people to share my most ridiculous outbursts with, and walk down the street as though it was a fashion runway with...
I do actually have reason to complain right now - the home baked goodies have run out, and so, I'm having to make do with Tesco's Freefrom bourbon biscuits. If you've not had to suffer these poor excuse of the country's finest, they crumble like sand castles at Skeggy beach! And yet I'm still eating them, because it's 1am and the junk gremlins are calling... It's a lot sometimes. Being their everything feels like both an honour, and an immense amount of pressure.
I'm scared I'm going to mess it up; mess them up. I want to be enough, but I'm never entirely sure I am.
I want to make the right decisions, lead them down the good path, and yet I dither at almost every crossroad, like a turkey in the headlights... (a slightly improper Christmas pun but it was all getting a bit serious, so ya know, it felt like a good time!) I do entirely believe that as parents, and particularly as mothers, we bare the weight of not being enough ever so much. We carry it, like a rucksack of rocks (FYI sometimes there are ACTUAL rocks in my bag thanks to my youngest), scared to put it down, to let our children down. And in doing so, we're at risk of missing the most beautiful moments.
I can't actually remember where this post was meant to go. It was something about not having enough 'me' time (along with Santa forgetting my coffee... I ran out on Christmas eve, and had to hang tight until boxing day because the man in red didn't see my emergency sticky note in the kitchen!)
And I guess that point still stands. We all need to switch off from the pressures of daily life. And we all need to scream really loudly into a towel now and then...
No? Just me? Ah, Ok... Awkward! But what we really need is to appreciate the here and now. To live in this very moment. And hold close the memories we make with loved ones. It's cheesy, I know. Cheddar and pineapple sticks cheesy (which if you don't remember, makes me feel really old!)
But they are the things that make all the nitty gritty stuff worth it. They are the huge sigh at the end of the night. And the even bigger smile that wraps around our hearts. Mushy stuff over. You can now breathe easy.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year folks. See you on the other side!
 "Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year."
Ralph Waldo Emerson