Life lately is pretty hectic and pretty stressful, my Nana is seriously ill and my Dad has returned from living abroad for nearly 10 years as he is also ill having had a stroke. That teamed with every day life with two children, a house to run, a busy job, a musculoskeletal condition, school life and the fact that we head to France for a month in less than three weeks just makes for a very fuzzy head most of the time. I have this sense of urgency that seems like days and weeks and even months are streaking by and I feel almost like I am missing it. Like I want to grasp it with both hands, to freeze time and really appreciate every single moment before it has gone in an instant. Before my Little Ladies are another day older and I haven’t been fully present in the day. And now, well now I am about to make it even more complicated.
This morning I am having surgery to remove my tonsils. I know that it is the right decision, it’s not one we have entered into lightly and it is so important for my long term health and to be well in the future for my children but the next few weeks will be tough for both me and them. Just 5 months ago I watched as Eva went through the same operation yet everyone says how bad it will be as an adult in recovery. I have been reading up (I know I know I shouldn’t, I just can’t help myself but want to know all the details) and I am now equipped to take this on and to be strong, be positive.
I have to admit though I am a little bit scared. Ok terrified. I am scared of the general anesthetic, scared it will bring back emotions of the last time I had one that changed my life forever and scared of the pain afterwards.
Yet the thing that scares me the most, that makes me feel sad and emotional, the thing I will miss the most is just being mum. Missing another week of my babies, the last weeks of school, and the build up to our big adventure. In all of this all I really want is to stop and spend time with them. The ones that will be well looked after whilst I recover but whom just want me. To sit on the floor playing puzzles, to follow very specific instructions and pretend I am a pilot who is going to Antarctica for the last time before maternity leave, to play Lego and read books. They drive me crazy and make sure I rarely get a moments peace but of everything I would rather do I would be just mum.
In her sweet nature Eva told me I would be ok, that I could be brave and that she would help me through this with ice cream, smoothies and hugs, perfect for me.
On Friday Eddy came home having spoken to someone at work about her tonsillectomy and that she had lost her voice for 10 days, 10 whole days. Eva’s face looked so sad as she said “but what about reading to me, what about the bedtime stories and that book I borrowed from a friend we love to read together?” Such an innocent question that shows the impact of an illness or operation as a parent is much more wide spreading than before when I would lie in bed watching friends until I felt better, that now the needs of my children come before mine and that “just” being mum doesn’t seem a strong enough statement. In that moment she realised the impact on her life and that she would miss the everyday, the ordinary moments we live for, we love.
Last night I read page after page after page of her book and I cried, because I love reading to her, to share with her a passion which she adores, to put that tone into it that makes her giggle uncontrollably and really feel for the characters.
It will be a long few weeks but I know that first book I read when I am better; that will be amazing and I already cant wait.
This is a positive step for our future, to get me back to doing what I love the best.
Just being mum, yet there is no just in it for me.