I woke up this morning desperately ill, my hands were twitching, my brain rapidly racing, my feet were hop-ing and non lucid ideas were flowing through my head.
God help me, the first ‘real’ day of my holidays and I seem to have been infected with a chronic case of mothering guilt.
My own mother wouldn’t even recognise me, I am that ill.
My children emerged from their bedroom, rubbing their eyes as the brightness of the landing light shocked them into silence. Never was mummy up before them and never could they wake and smell freshly burning toast wafting up the stairs.
I could sense their apprehension as they walked cautiously down the stairs. “She must be poorly” whispered twin boy to twin girl and then I emerged confirming his worse suspicions. Dressed in an unwanted present from Christmases past, I hugged my children close to my apron covered chest and bid them a good morning. I then fed them quickly whilst singing christmas jingles and dancing a little jig.
“She has gone flipping crazy.” Twin girl declared.
And then the full extent of my madness was revealed. After a hearty and filling morning meal, involving at least three of their five a day, I then declared with a flourish “let’s do craft.”
My insanity was complete. For the next hour we made corn flour decorations, twin boy emptied glitter on the floor whilst adding boogies as a secret ingredient. Twin girl carefully made gingerbread shapes for me to hide at the back of the tree and BB spent the time swinging off my apron screeching randomly until she was given chocolate as a means to keep her quiet.
The house is destroyed and yet I am still smiling. This mothering guilt has the ability to last for days, weeks even.
I am going to need to get a cleaner as part of my ongoing cure.
Merry Christmas everyone x x x
Proof for some non believers! – Work in Progress