THE Beast has taken to smacking his lips and saying ‘Ahhh, that’s Bass’ whenever he takes a sip of his drink, in an uncanny imitation of our former Taoiseach.
It’s very unsettling.
He also says cheerfully ‘Down the hatch!’ and ‘Eat up everybody!’ whenever he sees anybody eating or drinking anything, even when we’re out in public.
If you’ve ever been in a restaurant and a small blonde boy has enthusiastically cheered you on throughout your meal, that was us, and I apologise.
I’m not really sure where he picked up these phrases, most probably parroting us or his grandparents or cousins, but I probably should be worried that he’s already an advertiser’s dream.
I worry a lot actually. Mainly about my own prowess as a mother. And hearing him rattle off advertising slogans for beer from the 80s doesn’t really help my confidence.
When he was a tiny baby and I was ill with post natal depression, I was forced to put myself first, to get myself well so that I could care for him. So beyond feeding, changing and loving him, I didn’t worry about a whole lot else. And I didn’t DO a whole lot else with him either.
Now though, it’s different. I’ve recovered (for now) from PND, I am well again and I feel strong in that sense – but now I have to actually mother him.
The responsibility has moved on from quite literally keeping him alive, to actually nurturing him. To actually teaching him things. To actually knowing what the fuck I’m doing.
And I often fear that I don’t.
He was ill recently, with a fever that rocketed to 40.9 degrees (105F) and in my utter panic I physically looked over my shoulder for a more adulty adult to help me.
An abstract part of my brain thought ‘God, poor little thing, his mother is going to have to do something about that temperature’ before realising with a start that I was his mother and it was I who was going to have to do something about it.
So I did. With shaking hands I administered Calpol, took off both our t-shirts so he could cuddle next to me skin-to-skin to help regulate his temperature and for comfort, and then laid him down to rest in his cool bedroom, sitting up holding his hand for the rest of the night.
The temperature dropped after a few hours and he slept and within a few days was right as rain again. I even managed to get him to the doctor and to get a urine sample out of him (The Beast, not the doctor, that’d be just plain weird). And ridiculous as it sounds I was proud of myself for managing to mind him while he was ill, something every mother in the world does every day, probably without thinking about it.
Having a baby is a huge responsibility and it starts the moment the baby enters the world; but for me, the responsibility hadn’t really bothered me up until this point when The Beast has started to turn from a helpless baby into a little person, a person I am responsible for, that I have to guide through life.
I even spoke to my GP about it, a few months ago, that while I felt recovered from the PND and ready to move on with my life that I still didn’t feel like a good mother.
He looked at me kindly from over his spectacles and told me my problem was simply confidence, that he suspected I was a “very good mother indeed” but that lack of confidence can hold anybody back.
He spoke to me then about possible counselling to come to terms with my new life now as a mother and while I don’t feel like I need that quite yet, I do have that in my back pocket for future reference.
For now, instead, I’ve been slowly trying to build my own confidence by focusing on the things that I’m doing right with my son.
Ok, so he winks and spouts 80s advertising slogans like a politician in training, watches too much TV, is stubborn as a mule and has an unhealthy obsession with Milkyway chocolate stars, but he can also count to ten, ream off his colours, name any animal in a farmyard and a fair few in the Zoo too.
I did that.
He knows all the words to the Thomas the Tank Engine theme song, can name all the trains and their associated numbers, and can recite most of his Thomas books off by heart. He says please and thank you and excuse me when he burps.
I did that.
He adores hopscotch, the slide, chalk drawing, stickers, examining leaves in the woods, collecting sticks by the stream and feeding the ducks and he’s never happier than when he’s digging in mud making up elaborate games for his toys.
I did that.
He’s happy and healthy and loved and smart and funny and crazy and full of chat and goes to bed each night knowing that he is the light of our lives.
I did that.
At least, I did some of that. I suppose that’s all any of us can do, isn’t it, keep moving forward, keep trying.
And for now anyway, the kid is alright.
Wonderful Wagon
August 25, 2015 at 15:11
Gorgeous post. I know exactly where you are coming from. I worry endlessly about The Job at hand and am cultivating a nice little fear concerning the teenage years. Which are still a few years away.
beatingmyselfintoadress
August 25, 2015 at 15:15
Thank you! Oh God, the teenage years. I can’t. I have the ULTIMATE fear of that. Can you imagine what I’ll be like when he’s a teenager? I’m hoping by then science will have come up with some way for kids to hibernate for five years and then emerge from a cocoon as responsible adults. That’s my hope!
The Other Emma
August 25, 2015 at 15:27
Karen, you are a fabulous Mammy and an absolutely lovely person. The Beast is lucky to have you.
I think everyone has the fear, how could you not worry about messing up something which makes your heart squeeze just by looking at it? And I think it’s a sign that you’re on the right track anyway if you have that fear because it means you care and will always try to be better, to do better.
(And if it makes you feel any better after a particularly stressful incident where I was trying to get myself and the Destructor out the door and ended up spilling a bottle of water all over the kitchen floor, the Destructor now announces “F*ck’s sake” at the top of his lovely baby voice whenever he drops something he is trying to carry so you know, I’d take 80’s adverts over that!)
beatingmyselfintoadress
August 25, 2015 at 16:00
Hahahhah! I shouldn’t laugh, but that’s hilarious! Ok, I feel better now! Thanks for reading, you’re very kind.
pollyhops
August 25, 2015 at 15:32
Motherhood is one of the hardest things that no-one talks about. Your honesty bowls me over every time and I can completely relate to every single point in your post. I think so many people feel overwhelmed by motherhood but not enough talk about. Well done Karen, another amazing post x
beatingmyselfintoadress
August 25, 2015 at 15:59
Thanks so much, you’re very good. Glad you can relate, it’s so nice to know it’s not just me!
Confessions Of An Irish Mammy
August 25, 2015 at 15:40
Great post! I think I’m a shit mother at least twice a day every day and they’re 6 and 4! š I think beating yourself up about your mammy skills is part of the job.. and odds are you’re doing just fine. š
beatingmyselfintoadress
August 25, 2015 at 15:58
Ok, that’s good to know! That makes me feel better. I’ve kind of always thought experienced Mams stop feeling like this, so that’s great. Thank you!
Four Walls, Rainy Days
August 25, 2015 at 15:56
Brilliant post. As someone still in the fog of PND (but mostly doing okay) I’ve got a lot of the same thoughts – including “Would the child be better off if I left him with the creche ladies?” – but we do manage to get them from being raw infants to being little people with opinions, manners and wonderful (if alcohol related) party pieces – we’re doing the best we can, and the kids are better than alright, they’re thriving. Have confidence in yourself š
beatingmyselfintoadress
August 25, 2015 at 15:57
Thank you! I really hope that PND fog lifts for you. It’s not easy, it can be a long road, but you’ll get there.
Four Walls, Rainy Days
August 25, 2015 at 16:27
Thank you š
Pingback: Irish Parenting Bloggers | The kid is alright
Collette
August 25, 2015 at 17:55
What a fabulous post! I think EVERY mother, regardless of circumstances, worry about not being a good enough mother. It’s overwhelming, something I hadn’t even considered when I was pregnant. They seem so much easier as babies now, feed them, change them, they sleep (hopefully!) for a few hours. I find that now Caelen is older, I’m so worried about the things he sees/hears. They’re definitely like little sponges. At the moment, all Caelen will do is talk about bums and call EVERYONE “stinkybutt”, including little old ladies and a priest we were talking to during the Rose of Tralee. Parenting win, right? š I think that once they’re happy and healthy, we’re doing more than alright.
beatingmyselfintoadress
August 25, 2015 at 18:09
I shouldn’t laugh, but I did! That’s brilliant. Stinkybutt!!
Muuka
August 25, 2015 at 20:16
I remember leaving the hospital with my little one and feeling very strange “eh? Is noone going to stop me? this is a real live BABY you’re letting me walk out of here with? Are you people insane?!” And I still have to remember at times that this little person thinks I know everything about the world and expects me to be the responsible adult she’s known all her life. It’s really very scary.
I came across something that really resonated a while ago “Do you remember when you were a kid and thought the grown ups knew everything? Well, no-body knows shit” š really stayed with me, that one. We’re all muddling through this together *silent scream*
beatingmyselfintoadress
August 25, 2015 at 20:22
Nobody knows shit – I like that! Thank you!
tric
August 25, 2015 at 23:47
Stand in line. There is not a mother in the world who thinks she is good enough. However some day in the future I’m sure you will discover you did indeed do a great job. I’ve little doubt you are not a good mother, but a great one.
beatingmyselfintoadress
August 25, 2015 at 23:49
Thanks so much Tric, really appreciate that!
nicolasimplyhomemade
August 26, 2015 at 08:39
Wonderful, honest post. I think we all worry, I know I do. Do I do enough? I didn’t do that right. I made a complete arse of that. Daily thoughts from my head.
I’m on number 5, I have to get something right with him….the practice ones are growing up!! š
beatingmyselfintoadress
August 26, 2015 at 11:36
Oh so good to hear an experienced Mam say that! I think poor S is going to be an only child so I’m making all my mistakes on him, with no back up from siblings!
nicolasimplyhomemade
August 26, 2015 at 20:06
Surely better than making the same mistakes 5 times over LOL š