As I type this, Mother’s Day 2017 is drawing to a close. It is almost midnight.
This Mother’s Day hasn’t been the easiest. I had to deal with different episodes from both my kids throughout the day.
First, there was the three year old who pushed his older sister for no reason, refused to say sorry and threw a huge fit at breakfast. His screams and cries drew the stares of many, and yet even so, I insisted on squeezing an apology out of him before we left the table.
Then there was the 6.5 year old, whom, in spite of husBenKoh and I saying no, sneaked and brought a tiny lego piece from her new set of lego to church, and lost the piece. I had to reprimand her for sneaking something we said she couldn’t bring and yet lost, and deal with her sorrow of losing a new toy that she really loved.
These two major episodes were enough to swing Mother’s Day in a direction I definitely was not hoping for. The only consolation came from my dear husband who supportively managed the kids and kept quiet as I disciplined them, on Mother’s Day.
Being a Mother is no easy feat.
I cannot start to explain how alone I often feel even though it is noisy at home most of the time.
I cannot start to explain how helpless I feel when the kids repeat the same mistakes over and over.
I cannot start to explain how thick my skin has to be when I have to discipline my tantrum throwing children in public or even in front of family and friends.
I cannot start to explain how hurtful it can feel when people, especially family and friends, make remarks about the negative behaviour my children sometimes display. Heaven knows how hard I try to teach my children right from wrong.
I cannot start explain how often I wonder if my children or I have done anything wrong, when other children among friends seem like the more “favoured” or “preferred” ones. It may not look like it affects me or that it matters, but it can and it does.
I cannot start to describe my emotions of wanting to walk away when motherhood gets really tough but knowing I can’t, and shouldn’t.
I cannot start to describe how left out I feel when I realise I can no longer participate in certain social activities and eventually start to fade from the lives of people that matter so much to me.
I cannot start to count the number of times I wish I had spoken differently to my children and save them from hurts done by me.
I cannot start to count the number of times I wish I had paid more attention to certain details and addressed certain fears and worries that my children have.
I cannot start to count the number of times I just start crying and cannot stop the tears, like right now. Something, perhaps insignificant to others, triggered my tear ducts and now the tears wouldn’t stop flowing.
Yet, the other truths about my motherhood journey keeps me going.
I still cannot believe I have been a stay at home mum for almost seven years, and is still pressing on.
I still cannot believe that my husband has had to deal with sleeping in a separate room just so I can manage my son better at night, when my son was a baby. I still cannot believe that my husband has tolerated all the hormonal fits i have thrown, on top of bearing the aftermath of bad days with the kids.
I still cannot believe that on most days, I am looking after my two children single-handedly. I clean, wash, cook for them, teach, nuture and discipline them, chauffeur them and do whatever they are not capable of at their age for them.
I still cannot believe how I have two little darlings who will hug and kiss me unconditionally, and also see me as the one person they must run to when they are happiest, and when they need comfort the most.
I still cannot believe that the darkest day can become brighter in an instant when I see the big bright smiles on my children’s faces.
I still cannot believe that my own achievements are pale in comparison to my children’s little milestones.
I still cannot believe that because I am typing about my own children now, the tears have stopped.
Motherhood is no easy feat. Some people are “pushed” into it, some people “accidentally” get into it, some people never want to be involve in it, some people try for many years to start it, and some people who choose it get into it faster.
Motherhood may not be an easy journey, and the emotions and challenges can be complicated. Yet, I press on. Why do I press on? That in itself bags a lot of different answers.
Whatever the answer and whatever the reason. I pray that as I press on, I will have the wisdom and favour to do it right. Not right in the way that my children want it to be, but right in the way that is best for them.
I pray that in spite of all the reasons I cannot start to explain, I will press on because of all the reasons I still cannot believe.