It’s Hard Being a Mum Sometimes
It seems I have a Super Power. I am Invisible. No, really, I can spend an entire day without being seen by anyone. At least, that’s how it can feel sometimes. Am I alone or are there any other Invisible ladies out there?
Some days when I wake up, (when my daughter dictates it and whispers ‘it’s wakey wakey up time, Mummy’) all I want to do is hide under my covers and ask for someone more adult than me to step in and do it. Does anyone else feel that way sometimes? As if you don’t really feel adult enough to shoulder the responsibility that comes with parenthood?
Being a parent is fucking hard work most of the time and I’m hit with this reality most mornings. I then spend the first exhausting hour of my day trying to cajole my kids to get dressed/eat breakfast/clean teeth/put on their shoes, at the same time as getting myself ready for the day.
I put them first ALL the time, of course. There is never a morning when we arrive at school with me having achieved all of the following: done a workout, showered and washed hair, dried hair properly, applied make-up, eaten breakfast, cleaned own teeth.
Can I repeat that? NEVER. I often have to wait until after school drop off to eat or wash. These are basic humane requirements. The answer, of course, is to wake up earlier. But I can’t get up earlier than 6.50am, I just can’t.
The other solution is to prioritise or sacrifice. OK, so I chose not to exercise, or do my hair nicely, or apply make-up (which is only ever sparing, we’re not talking full TOWIE look).
But if I sacrifice these things just to get out of the door, inevitably I leave the house feeling rubbish.
The endorphins from exercising make me feel good. Having my hair and make-up look OK makes me feel good. If I miss these things I suddenly slip into a torpor which nothing can pull me out of.
I also resent having to use my time when I get back from school to achieve things my husband is allowed to do before he goes to work – a shower, breakfast etc. I want that time to do my own work, catch up on house stuff, or, dare I say it, meet with a friend for a coffee without a child asking me to hurry up.
So I go out without make up, without hair nicely done, often surviving on a strong black coffee to endure the playground where everyone else seems so much more put together than me.
That’s when I feel most invisible.
I have noticed a change recently. Nowadays I can walk to school and I know that the twenty something in the car that passes me will see me only as a blur of buggy, mac and children. I wouldn’t look any different to any other mum on the school run. I know that is what she will see because I was that twentysomething once.
I am not ashamed to say that when I walk past a building site and see a bunch of male builders standing around, I want some acknowledgement that I’m more than ‘this.’ More than just the stereotypical school mum lugging around a litany of children’s paraphernalia.
I want a comment, or the wolf whistle. I do, and I resent myself for this. I want to be noticed.
I don’t get looks from people in cars, I barely get a glance from people walking the other way. It’s easy to feel invisible.
By the time I’ve done school drop off and returned home, I realise there is crap all around the house that no-one else will tidy away. That clothes need washing, a name tag needs sewing, an email needs replying to. Life goes on.
I while away my hours in that tedium before I pick up my daughter from nursery (again, seemingly unseen by most of the parents who are there).
We go home and I do everything I can to make her day a fun one, all the time enduring another epic tantrum over something ridiculously small. By the time I cajole her out to pick up her brother, I am harassed, tired, fucked off, craving chocolate and beginning to resent the day.
After school run, and that blissful five minutes walking back when they’re not shouting at each other, we return home for me to have to constantly break up their arguments. I spend time cooking them a nice meal, for them to not like it. I threaten, I bribe, I cajole (again), and finally dinner eaten (cold) I then oversee tidying up of toys, which inevitably ends in tears and recriminations.
Then bath time beckons. They bathe, I wash their hair, clean their teeth, dry them, dry their hair (after catching the youngest who always runs away). I dress them and listen to my son read before I read them both a bedtime story. I put them to bed, kiss their heads and finally breathe the deepest of breaths that they’re asleep.
My ‘day job’ may be over, but my second job is just beginning. I go downstairs, clean the kitchen, and try to snatch a sneaky five minutes to sit down before my husband comes home from work.
I make us both dinner and clean up, all while he relaxes watching TV. I make us a cup of tea and by 10 o clock I want to go to bed. Husband of course complains that I always go to bed too early, but I must confess, I do not always go to bed early to sleep! All I really want is a little peace and quiet. I want to be alone. I want to read, or meditate.
Then I fall asleep and am awoken by my daughter… and the cycle starts all over again.
I sometimes dream of running away, sneaking off to a cash point and taking it all out before jumping on a train and just leaving. Then I could be truly invisible, but on my own terms.
But then I wouldn’t have my children… or my husband.
I need these three in my life. As much as I have my ‘low’ days and spend much of my day resenting them for everything they want from me, I need them to prop me up.
I need their kisses and hugs and I need to know that whilst I may be invisible to the rest of the world, they still see me. Because really, that’s all that matters.
(Note from The Editor: Many thanks to Jessica Spring for her open and honest article. Jessica is a mum of two children, juggling most the childcare, all her work (PR and writing) and trying to remember everything for school. She tends to be found hiding in the kitchen with the radio blaring, tea in hand. To read more from Jennifer, you can check out her author page here.)
