I didn’t think I would be THAT mum, in fact at one point I didn’t think I would be a mum at all. I grew up as one of four in a chaotic family in London, and all I’d ever heard from my mum was how crap having so many kids was (maybe she was joking, maybe she wasn’t haha) but it soaked in and from an early age I had decided I wasn’t going to be a mum, I was going to be a doctor (because the two are obviously mutually exclusive to a child pre-girl power movement) and so waking up twenty years later to find that not only am I a mum, I am a stay at home mum, and not only that, a needy stay at home mum…well it’s a bit of a shock still.
To say having April and Ariel has been the best thing to ever happen to me is an understatement, like most parents my whole world has been transformed by their existence. It is my job and my responsibility to provide every thing they could possibly need to grow up happy and healthy, and meeting those needs fills me with a happiness I’ve never known before.
So when they’re not there, (which is actually incredibly rarely) I feel a bit empty. I miss them terribly. I wonder what they’re doing, what they’re saying, what I’m missing out on. Have they eaten properly? Has the baby been burped? What if she’s in pain and is crying for me? What if a kid is being mean to them? What if they wonder where mummy is and why I have left them?
It’s incredible isn’t it, the kids will drive me up the wall to the point where I am sometimes a tearful mess by the time Grumpy Husband gets home from a 10 hour stint at work, I will long for and fantasise about having a break…even just a couple of hours, just a little bit of time to get myself together, remember who I am without the kids, and then when the time comes (maybe two hours on my birthday to go for dinner kid free, or half an hour to go to the doctors on my own – yep that’s about the extent of it for the last year or so) – when I finally get a break – anxiety sets in.
I can’t stop that constant worrying. The deep need to be with them again. To make sure that they are okay, in a way that only their mother can do.
When Ariel was born and I was in hospital with her, it was one of the hardest times of my life, not just the terrifying prospect that my sweet new baby might not come home with us, but also the painful separation from my April – my mind just flitted from one child to the other, I was a mess.
April started going to nursery for a couple of sessions a week a while ago, and we were given so much support and advice about how to ease the child’s fears and anxieties about leaving mum or dad, but it was in fact me that needed the support…April didn’t give a hoot. Off she strutted to the playhouse without a second thought for me, while I watched her disappear in to the distance trying to keep my shit together.
I guess I am a needy mum. I am obsessed with my kids and their well being. I cannot relax unless I know they are happy and when they are away from me I am on edge until I see them smiling at me again. Is it a bad thing? I think when they get a bit older the girls might think so – but I can’t help that I love them so much. And right now they are happy to indulge me. At least they will never wonder if they are loved and needed, whether they come first (even before showers) and if their mum will always be there for them…because I am there for them, all the time, I’m probably stood over their bed creepily while they sleep as you read this right now.
One day I won’t be cool enough for them, but today is not that day…so I am going to continue stalking my children as long as I am able. To any fellow needy mothers…enjoy…one day they’ll leave home and we may need to form a support group or something.