Is anyone listening?

If you asked ambitious 12 year old me what I wanted to achieve by 30 I would have replied 1. Be a teacher, 2. Be married and 3. Be a mother. If you asked slightly weathered by life’s obstacles 30 year old me the same question, you would receive the same answer, only with less confidence in my reply as my voice quivers ever so slightly with the knowledge of what mothering does to a person.

Don’t inexpertly assume I don’t love my job, relentless though it can be, I am exactly where I want to be in life. I am a stay at home mum (don’t hold your breath my career oriented feminist mother whom I love dearly), I have an amazing, husband who doubles as a wonderful father to our three kiddies under the age of 4 years, and whilst I don’t teach currently, at least not in the paid sense, I did achieve my teaching degree several years ago. So tick all the boxes, I made it!

Or did I? What has mothering taught me thus far? In the 3 years and 10 months I have been a mother I have noticed many changes occur. I have experienced my heart swelling to triple its size to accommodate all the extra unconditional love I have for my three babies. I have seen the paradigm shift within me where my value for money making and material goals have diminished to the point I no longer have a career and the last item I bought myself was a maternity bra.  I have felt the nervous vibrations accelerate as I worry continuously about my relationship with my defiant Miss 3, or my accident prone Miss 2’s latest graze, or Mister 2 month old’s sleeping habits.

And I have felt the judgement. The judgement of the lady at the grocery shop during a meltdown over chocolate from one of my girls. The judgement from the man who stares as I carry a baby strapped onto my chest and a tired screaming toddler on my hip with a preschooler dragging at my other hand up the hill on our way back from the park. The judgement of the other mother at the mother’s group when I have taken an extra chocolate biscuit to avoid my own meltdown after having three little bosses scream at me the entire car ride there. The judgement from a former friend who upon becoming a mother has found a new game in comparing our kids (she used to compare our handbags, boyfriends, outfits). The judgement from my children’s grandparents as they watch me parent differently to how they remember themselves during this often tumultuous time. And lastly the judgement from myself as I fail to live up to the unattainable golden standard of mothering I set to achieve each and every day.

At the end of the day, when I feel I have spoken but no one has listened, not even the dog as she runs away with the last of my daughter’s bread roll from dinner, I sigh relief as I listen. I listen to the laughter as Miss 3 and Miss 2 play happily together, even if the joyous noise is only brief and is followed by howls of indignation as they unravel each other’s emotions by stealing toys from one another. I listen to Mister 2 month old as he suckles at the breast, gulping and growing, gulping and growing. I listen to my husband sing the same nursery rhyme he has sung every night for the last 1399 nights. I listen to each of my children breathe as they sleep sweetly in their beds. I listen and I smile because yes, I have made it!