Does being a mum ever get easier?

Posted Monday 7th April 2014   By Ericka Waller

Last weekend, I went on a Spa break with a pregnant friend, a treat for Mother’s Day. A whole day and night without my children. I bought a stack of magazines and she bought chocolate. We got handed clean, fluffy robes as we arrived. We had nothing to do except be rubbed and pampered. Everything was white, like being in a lovely cloud. Guess what we talked about the whole time?

Yes, our children. Things they said, ate, pooed out after. We talked of routines and exhaustion and how cake was made for sleep deprived mums. As I lay waiting for a beautician to rub me with salt scrub (not as nice as it sounds, it makes wobbly bits wobble and can chafe after a while) it suddenly occurred to me, that these might be the easy days.

Children that want to be with with me all the time. Hands that always want to be in mine. Feet in my back all night, face in mine at 5am: “is it the morning mummy?”

Yes I am tired and bored of nursery rhymes. I long to drink my tea alone and sleep in a star shape, but I have a feeling these are the days I am going to miss the most.

At the moment, I am the sun my daughters orbit around. I can make them happy with a cupcake and a sparkly glitter pen. How long can this continue?

I think I’d prefer to have their hands in mine, than wonder who else might be holding them. To sleep with their half-crescent toenails cutting moons into my spine, rather than worrying if those feet are going to make their way home to me.

One day I will be the child in this parenting-relationship, begging to be noticed, heard, held. I will be running after my children and they will not want to be caught like they do now. One day this house will not be full of excited squeals and Fireman Sam. One day the doors they beg me to open, will become doors shut in my face.

It’s scared me, I can tell you. The amount of time I’ve spent wanting them to get ‘to the next stage‘ to get ‘a bit easier’. I know, of course, that the friendship I have with my daughters may continue, but just in case, I’m off to sit under their bunk bed and tell them stories with happy endings.