How does one begin to write about the big, chaotic, colourful, exhilarating, frustrating, rewarding, heart-breaking whirlwind adventure that is Motherhood?
After almost seven years of mothering two rambunctious chaps, I’ve come to the conclusion that no two mothers’ experiences are ever alike. It’s the little moments and the unexpected encounters and a myriad of factors that shape each woman’s completely unique journey of motherhood – and yet, we each make it work, in our own ways. Here’s a snapshot of my experience.
I’m sorry, that’s not a very creative title, is it? But really, it’s a post that I’ve been sitting on for a long time, and just didn’t feel confident enough to share. Now that we are almost halfway through the year (GASP!), I do feel like we have gained a little experience with primary school life – enough for me to share – and it’s also a good time to talk about this, as many K1 parents are probably losing sleep over this issue as 1 July draws nearer…
A few weeks ago, I took a stroll around my grandma’s garden.
It’s been a while since I did something like that. These days, we normally sit on the front porch on Thursday evenings, our weekly extended family get-together time, and watch the kids playing on the swing or scooting up and down the driveway. We chat about our week, snap photos, and chase everyone in when dusk falls and the mozzies start their nightly rounds.
Perhaps it’s because David has recently started reading his first ever Enid Blyton book – The Magic Faraway Tree. (We have a good deal going – he reads one page, I read two) Or maybe it’s that article I wrote last week, about the importance of boredom. Either way, I’ve been thinking about the past more these days, and remembering the high jinks we cousins got up to when we were young. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago, other times I remember it like it was just yesterday…
As you have probably guessed by now, blogging has taken a little bit of a backseat this year, as it’s been challenging to juggle mothering my two adorable rugrats with managing Dottieshop and housework and church work. But I’m still going to blog as often as I can, and today’s rainy afternoon was the perfect opportunity to huddle up in my cosy sheets with my laptop while the boys took an afternoon nap. (I LOVE the sweater weather we’ve been having the past two days! Except during the school drop off and pick up times…)
I know I’m late, but it’s been quite the exhausting week of transiting to a different way of life, with new routines we’re looking at keeping for the next 12 years at least! Life as a P1 mum has officially begun…
Today, I watched the boys chasing their friends amidst jets of water under a blazing sun, and I marvelled at how a mere two years ago, both were afraid of the “scary water shooting”.
My friend and I had a decent chat over lunch while our five boys enjoyed their meal at a separate table.
They trooped, single file and noses to the ground, searching out every lizard, fire ant and pretty flower they could find, and even found a dead frog in the process.
We watched as the older two laughed at each other’s jokes, poured water into each others’ beakers, and went into the Gents together. These two, who have known each other all their lives – and now they are six.
And our second borns are at that age now, the age where they are losing their baby fats and picking up the mannerisms and attitudes of an almost 5yo. Wanting to be independent like their kor kors, but not quite ready for it yet.
A wistful sigh escaped my lips more than once, and I felt my heart torn in a way that has become familiar to me now. That longing that time would stand still and this moment could be captured forever, mingled with a sense of loss of the sweet innocence of babyhood, and a burst of pride that they have come this far.
I first read The Five Love Languages when I was dating the hubby. Fast forward some seven years later, and I found myself reading The Five Love Languages for Children when David was just starting to walk. It became apparent, pretty early on, that words of affirmation and acts of service rank quite highly on my elder boy’s list, while Daryl is all about the physical touch.
At face value, it seems easy for me to fill up David’s love tank, because I myself am someone who enjoys giving and receiving words of affirmation. But a recent encounter showed me how thoughtless my words can be, and reminded me to be more mindful of the assumptions I make and how I speak to my tender-hearted boy.
Until recently, party prep for the boys’ birthdays have typically begun a few months in advance. Partly because I like spreading all the DIYs out so it’s not hurried, and partly because I’m always itching to plan the next one. This year, however, with the recent spate of Dottieshop workshops, it has been challenging to find time to do things at a leisurely pace. So I decided to enlist the boy’s help in planning this year’s party, and the then-almost-6yo boldly declared that he would be in charge of everything and tell me what to do.
Just like that, you turn six. Six beautiful, heart-stopping, breath-taking years with you. Six years of tears and trials and smiles and laughter and courage and faith. Six years of motherhood – mothering you. Six years of seeing you bloom and grow and fall and try again.