Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day makes me look back on nine years of sacrifices.  Sleepless nights, major life changes, what you did to my body, not to mention my sanity. 

I look back on all the hours I spent rocking you to sleep, singing you lullabies until I couldn’t sing anymore and just wishing that you would finally drift off to sleep.  Then the stealthy, ninja like moves on the floor to sneak out of the room without you knowing, only to hit the wrong floorboard and have your eyes open again, followed by a cry. But when you did eventually sleep, I couldn’t help creep back in to look at your beautiful peaceful faces, and almost, just almost want to wake you up because I missed you so much.

I have taught you so much. How to eat, how to walk and to talk, your ABCs and how to read. But you have taught me so much more. You’ve taught me that I can exist on a ridiculously small amount of sleep. That I can feel unbelievably awful with illness, but your suffering with it pains me even more. You’ve taught me how to hide vegetables in all kinds of ways. That you look at the world in an entirely different and even more amazing way than me. Most importantly, you’ve taught me that my heart can love someone more than I ever dreamed would be possible. 

The years have flown by and a world of nursery rhymes and nappies have been replaced with school, sleepovers and sports. You no longer call out “I love you Mum” as I wave goodbye to you.  But on this special day, of beautiful drawings and heartfelt gifts, I feel unbelievably lucky to be called Mum by two of the sweetest little people I have ever met. Xxx