Why, when all my hopes and dreams were once tied up with wanting to be a mum, do I celebrate the days when I am just me in my own space doing my own thing?
Why, when my life once focused on the children as the centre of my universe, do I count down the days until school holidays are over?
These are, of course, rhetorical questions.
My boys are at different educational establishments and for Easter their combined holidays stretched over three long weeks. Three weeks where I didn’t have the headspace to write. Three weeks of restructuring my life to accomodate theirs. And yes, I know that’s what parenting is all about, and yes, I know that histroically I would have just rolled my eyes and got on with it, but that was before. Before I came to the extremely delayed realisation that actually my life as a person was equally as important as theirs, and that I was allowed to have a life that didn’t centre on being a mum 24/7.
So, while I did what I could to maintain my sense of self over these three weeks, and switched my focus to things that I could do rather than trying desperately to work on things that were never going to happen with the boys around, I am so very glad that today my life returns to normal.
What is normal? Is there even a normal to return to? We could philosophically debate this for hours (and you’re very welcome to comment on the philosophy of normality if you wish) and never come to a definitive description of a normal life. In fact do we even want normal, doesn’t normal imply boring, staid, unadventurous.
Normal is black and white. Living life to please yourself is to live in technicolour.
I want rainbows not rain clouds… and that is exactly what today will bring.
Have an awesome day of being you!
Much love, K x