I’m sat at my dining room table, as I often am, reflecting on previous columns about my children. Birthdays, Christmases, and the cardboard box family Maia made that somehow made its way into the newspaper. There was a nail-clipping incident, a column dedicated to the horrors of sleep-deprivation and a whole 600 words detailing the afternoon I failed to collect my daughter from school. (Closely linked to the sleep deprivation, this was due to an ill-timed nap with my toddler and an alarm that only made itself apparent about 20 minutes after pick-up time.)
They’ve always been very much my honest version of motherhood; the mundane, the magic, and everything in between.
Now, as we draw closer to the end of the school year, I’ll be pausing the columns for a little while, to focus on a creative project I’ve been working on, also related to motherhood. (Mark Twain said ‘write what you know’, a quote I seem to be married to; I’ve ran with this notion for over a decade now. That, and ‘everything is copy’, thank you Nora Ephron.)
I enjoy writing about life, and the biggest part of my life, particularly whilst my children are young; is motherhood. I started this column when my daughter Maia was just five years old, and she’s now eleven, turning twelve later this year. My son Leo will be five in August, and it doesn’t feel like too long ago I was writing about baby music classes, messy mealtimes and the constant fear of him toppling down the stairs.
Life seems to be flying by quicker than ever. Maia is in her last few weeks of year six and recently had her secondary school induction day, which she seemed to enjoy, mixing with both new friends and old during break and lunch.
Now, the countdown is on to welcome her new phone into daily life. This is something I’ve been dreading since the first time she brought it up, approximately 1200 conversations/debates ago. Most of her friends already have an iPhone, and my determination to stick to the plan of waiting till the end of year six has not been well received. I feel I will cave any day now and let her have it a week or two early. She will be thrilled then quickly disappointed, possibly enraged even, when she sees the 12-point list of rules and screen-time allowances I’ve quite literally drawn up in a written contract.
I am, suffice to say, incredibly proud of both of my children. Maia has navigated some rather big life changes remarkably well this year and continues to make me smile every time she recounts an amusing tale from school, or sits down to play with her brother, or creates another piece of art. (Often with card, that girl has a real affinity for card-based creations.)
Leo, who has just recovered from chicken-pox, adores his big sister, loves reading and writing and will casually start dancing to music in stores without realising it. (This happened just yesterday in both JD Sports and Vodafone, where the sales assistant was noticeably tickled.) They both make me laugh – and sigh – on a daily basis.
I hope to return to my Honest Motherhood columns at some point, as whilst I’ve covered the baby, toddler and primary school years, there will no doubt be plenty to say on adolescence.
For now I’ll just say the biggest thank you to anyone who’s ever read an Honest Motherhood column. I hope it’s made you smile.
