Some thoughts on mothering

Having the time in here has made me reflect on being a mother. Before this deterioration (I'm not quite sure how to refer to these past few weeks and I guess deterioration sounds about right) I was struggling. I had soldiered on through the radiation, and really it was a bit tough.

But I was finding being a mother tough. Charlotte's behaviour was - challenging. I know it is normal. She is asserting her independence. Trying new things, pushing boundaries. But it was wearing. Angus was also going through a tough time with wanting to be picked up. He had started squealing, chucking little tantrums (seriously anyone who thinks the terrible twos actually happen at two needs to come live at my house!). He would literally bang his head on the floor, then look at me for that reaction.

So my response was to put the TV on. Let them watch cartoons if they want. Of course I was still trying to do things with them. Charlotte was playing more games - "What's the time Mr Wolf" is a favourite at the moment, as is hide and go seek. Playdough is still fun but is draining as I have to run interference with Angus trying to eat it. Blocks are a favourite for Angus although he is so much happier playing by himself than Charlotte ever is/was.

And I felt guilty. I've needed a daily nap for months now and that guilt - especially relying on James, has eaten me up. The housework slipped. And all of this made me feel like I was the worst mother in the world. Simply because my children were watching TV, or because I wasn't engaging with them constantly. Truthfully I wasn't enjoying the days at all. This just ate me up inside. I still think it's a hangover from the IVF, but I wanted these kids so bad. Surely I should treasure every minute of every day and want to engage with them?

Then I was admitted, and I have seen them for an hour at a time, every day or two (they havent' come in every day as it gets a bit much for them).

And they are doing fine. Angus' language has exploded. Charlotte's behaviour has improved dramatically and she is suddenly doing so much for herself. Whether these things would have happened with me being around I can't say; I am trying not to think that they have thrived without me being around, but I don't think that they have been irreparably harmed. 

I know when I go home I can't run around with them. It will take time before I have the strength to even go for a walk to the park, let alone really just play. But I am going to go home with a new confidence in my mothering. Because it doesn't matter if they watch TV. As long as I am there with them to guide them, to teach the little things, to offer cuddles (Angus has gotten really cuddly now) that is what important. The little things that make up a day are what matters. Being a mum is frustrating, draining, sometimes (often) unrewarding. I want to try to find that one moment in each day that makes all of those hard parts worthwhile. And if that means watching playschool together, then that is what it will take.

I need to shake off this mother guilt. I know it isn't that easy, but there are so many other things I can feel guilty about (too much red wine maybe?). I know I'm not alone in this - so what is your irrational mothers guilt?