Wednesday 10 October 2012

Season(s) of Motherhood

The other afternoon, I found myself quietly watching and wondering from the rectangular frame of Little A's bedroom window. Her room resides at the back of our flat. The window looks out onto the neighbouring street lined with cars, fallen leaves, and the half eaten rejects, the only visible clues, of stringy, malnourished foxes. I enjoy looking out of this window. I love the simple past time of watching people go about their day. I just hope that no one spots my voyeuristic curiosities as they pass thirty feet below.

On this particular afternoon I view mothers and minders pushing rain coat laden buggies, frowning and smiling by turns, hurrying dawdling toddlers on yet another school run. The local 'old boy' is carrying far too many shopping bags than his stooping back will allow. Over the road two parents are unburdening their car of two dogs, three children, and a weathered buggy. This family have always intrigued me. Both parents work, and I assume are doing 'well', as they have not one but two live in nannies. Their children, all under five, are very close in age. Their little boy is only weeks older then Little A - I can remember his mother stepping out of the backseat, hobbling towards the front door, with the tell tale infant carrier in hand, my thoughts focusing on the scene - how this could be me in the days to come.

My eyes search the top of the road where it meets the main thoroughfare, commuter traffic quarrels, buses hum, cyclists roll by. Then my gaze is robbed by the trees. Their tops are painted in splashes of fiery colour that seem at odds with the seamless green below, like a hairdresser has dyed one half of his client's head. I am clearly reminded that it is Autumn, the season of reduction, that nature is effortlessly undressing herself, while I remain the same, untouched by transformation, fully clothed in yesterdays foliage. Is Autumn really here? Where's it all gone? What have I been doing?  


Sometimes, I feel stuck in the same season. It's not Spring or Summer. They imply newness and life. It can't be Autumn. Too much colour. Too much change. That only leaves Winter. Motionless, never ending Winter. Days and weeks can feel like an undying loop of 'same'; same breakfast, same games, same park(s), same casseroles, same shopping list, same clothes line... I try to find sparks in the mundane detail, "look at that bright yellow car over there Little A", "let's go collect some leaves today," "does the dinosaur hamster live in that bush?" I do my very best to add colour to the daily routine; I play the googly eyed monster, I play giddy up horsey, I am most things Little A requires of me. But so often my enthusiasm is found wanting, caged by the monotony...    

Some days, I fly away to a different destination, an alternate reality, a childless fantasy of career, sleep, and free will. I pine for the old world, a time bound place of structure and daily definition. A world where I wasn't constantly on watch. A world where I wasn't perpetually worrying about safety. A world where my head wasn't invaded by frightening thoughts of suffocation, abduction and death. I revisit the shades of grey I felt about having a baby. Do I, daring to say the word, 'regret' having Little A? No! Not in a million galaxies. Not in the space before time existed. A world without Little A is no world at all. I love her with blinding ferocity, from the furnace of my core. The ambivalence's I feel confuse, upset and coddle in guilt. I never realised the work of a mother meant embracing so many conflicting feelings - am I alone in this experience? I like to think not.            

But when I look back upon the past, to the days before Little A, I also realise these too were filled with prediction, banality, and boredom. Was my life really more interesting, more stimulating, more fulfilling? In some ways yes, but in many more ways, no. The difference now, the burden of life as a stay at home mother, is the solitude, the lack of mature company. So recently, I dusted down my diary and filled our weekends with adventures with friends, especially those with children, in a bid to satiate my need for social connection other than my darling daughter. My blog is a great friend too but it's not the same as face to face chit chat over a slice (or three) of lemon drizzle cake and a cup of finely brewed tea.

I need to remind myself that although Winter might appear inert, fixed in silence, underneath the cold mossy bark, the icy mud, the sodden grey grass, lies dormant potential, the longing for reinvention. Soon Little A will leave her toddler years behind her. I don't want to wish these precious years away but I am looking forward to a new season, one where I flower again. Life may seem static, paused on red, but I also know that in this unmoving there lies a paradox; underneath my tired expression, underneath the faded jeans, the woollen jumpers, the ageing underwear, I'm changing, the person I once was is no more, can never be, but who I am set to become is for now a blank page...

This was inspired by a recent post by Sara Bran that really resonated with me. 

18 comments:

  1. Wow - how poignant and beautifully written - this resonates with me too, big time. Hence. Have been thinking about your once upon a time series which dove tails with this.

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    1. Thank you. Please, please join up with the Once Upon a Time series this month if you get the time. Being a mum catches you from different angles!

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  2. I perfectly understand this. As much as I love Autumn it can bring with it a strong sense of melancholy. It's definitely a time to reflect and rethink.

    During my maternity leave, I craved a little bit of grown up company. Children stimulate a different part of your brain that adults and I need both in my life.

    P.S. I think every mother has moments of 'what if?' and wonders what they would be doing if they hadn't had a child. But I think if we really turned back time, we'd be bored after a day and crave those little kisses and sweet smiles.

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    1. I start getting quite reflective at this time of year - always have - has to be seasonal. Balance is always the key - and you are right, I wouldn't have it any other way now.

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  3. Great post. You are certainly not alone in experiencing these conflicting feelings in motherhood - I am sure they vary by degree in all of us. I can identify with the monotony. Toddlers need routine (well I think they do) and that means by it's vary nature the toddler years can take on a day in day out degree of sameness. A sense of limited time chunks, before you have to return home for a nap or bathtime. Often I find that if I've had a day or so when I'm feeling that way, something happens in the midst of it all to change the status quo/ interrupt the monotony and reset things again. Then it seems ok.

    Good for you for dusting down the diary and getting out there on the cake eating circuit. Keeping busy and varying the things I do definitely helps as a coping mechanism for me as a SAHM.

    Do you see your blank page as an exciting prospect? Perhaps it's meant to be filled with the words of your first novel? x

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    1. Thank you MP. You are spot on, monotony is very important, nay crucial, to toddlers, it's what makes them feel safe and life predictable. And so true about the days divided into hunks - nap time separates the day. The cake eating circuit is tres important. I am going to get a few more of those days in the week day plan.

      Secretly, I do see it (blank page) as an exciting prospect - I thought I had the shape of my future sussed, now I'm leaving it wide open... X.

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  4. Great post, really. I found maternity leave really hard first time round - less so with my second. I think I knew what was coming and was better prepared for the solitude...

    Have some 'virtual' lemon drizzle cake from me...! x

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    1. Thank you, lovely. Good to know it wasn't so hard hitting second time around. Loving the cake - taa! X.

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  5. I feel the same OM. I am enjoying my time as a SAHM and now we know that we are not having anymore children, I am more inclined to try and commit all those precious little moments to my memory never to forget. But I am now in sight of getting a little bit of time 'back'. In less than six months J2 will be three and he will get some nursery hours. I am looking forward to having the time to do things that I enjoy that, as Motherhood took over, had to be put on hold. I miss those things. I do still try and keep up with them a little, blogging is my writing outlet, but it is all done in 'stolen' moments as J2 sleeps. Or an odd five minutes that his little body actually stops going at the speed of light because a cartoon has caught his attention. Even to have a set time to clean without a little shadow 'helping'. It will be lovely to have a mixture of the both.x

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    1. Little A will start more time at nursery next year too - and like you, I'm really looking forward to the extra time - It's this ,getting my time back, that is putting me off having another one! That's when I do my blogging too - in stolen moments - during nap time and evenings mainly. X.

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  6. I identify with everything you write - a sort of feeling trapped but not having it any other way - for now? My youngest has started nursery now - and I miss him but I love the peace that comes. It's the only time I am able to STOP and not be on safety alert, as you say. The time has gone in such a flash it breaks my heart, but I can taste freedom too. Honoured to be on that list of buddies XXX

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    1. It's like 'this is how it is and it can't be undone', but just for now. I forget Little A will be going regularly to nursery next year, and then I will hopefully have a little more time! Oh you so are! X.

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  7. Beautifully written. I'm just glad there are seasons; I love them all but I'm also glad when each one changes to the next. (go get some new underwear, it's always a nice treat, and you can wear it regardless of the seasons) x

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    1. Thank you! I love the seasons too, I just hope the one I am in changes soon. New underwear - a very good idea! X.

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  8. wow what a beautiful post- defo agree that you can be stuck in routine and its hard work putting colour into everyday- plus you do look back and wonder what was life like beforehand.

    yum lemon drizzle....

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    1. Thank you! Rise tinted glasses and all that! Lemon drizzle cake is fab!

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  9. I love this post so much. I keep coming back to it, and I still haven't got anything to say that's terribly worthwhile!

    I love Autumn so much, which is odd because it means winter is on the way, and I am not good in winter - don't like the darkness or the cold at all, or having to find endless things to do when you're stuck inside.

    It's funny though, isn't it, because what we see as monotonous is actually what our children need a lot of the time. They love routine, and things being predictable. I don't know if A is the same but T is an awfully sensitive wee fella and while he likes to have adventures, he likes to have quiet days at home too. When we go on holiday he always has a blast, but it takes him weeks to settle back down again when we get home.

    It sounds like you are doing all the necessary things to keep yourself sane over the coming while - it's amazing how just having a couple of coffees or a lunch in the diary can make a week pass so much faster, and time with friends can fill your heart up and give you enough energy to keep things going.

    It's the side of SAHM-ing that no-one talks about much though, do they? Doesn't matter how much you love your children, you do need more than that. You do need a little bit of something for yourself too - adult conversation, and someone you can debate with reasonably, and the occasionally wee without a face peeping around the bathroom door.

    Thank goodness for our blogs, and having a small outlet for creativity. xx

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    1. Wow Ruth, this was almost a post in its own right. Thank you for your thoughtful response. Autumn is great, I do love it, but it also means the possible reemergence of my Winter personality - Winter and I are not a good mix - I always feel lower, and my mind is starved of any rational and imaginative thoughts - can make writing a struggle at times. I do have a light box, and that helps to keep the blues at bay. And you are very, very right - children love monotony, it keeps them safe, and helps them to feel secure. Little A loves knowing what the routine of her day is going to be. At the end of the day, she likes to tell me what we are going to do the next day. And, like you say, there is definitely a 'shadow side' to mother hood no-one really talks about - mother's need more than just mothering their babies. I have a few more dates planned in my diary though! :o). Here's to blogging!!! X.

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