A Mother’s Love

I mean to eat a proper dinner each night but I end up eating cheese (on crackers with a glass of wine. And then a packet of twiglets.

But I love my girls.

I intend to meal plan, to shop every Friday and home cook or batch cook, but somehow the days whizz by and we eat fish-fingers and beans.

But I love my girls.

I try to read more books, to listen to Radio 4 and to watch interesting documentaries. Then before I know it I’m on my fifth episode of Pretty Little Liars.

But I love my girls. 

I plan to get up after baby has had her hideously early bottle, so that I’m fresh and ready for the day..yet soon enough I’m stirring to the toddler yelling “Mummy wake UP!” and we’re late again.

But I love my girls.

I intend to stuff the lunch boxes with crudités and homemade hummus dips, though marmite sandwiches and a Mr Kipling slice are usually the norm.

But I love my girls.

I aim to keep my cool, like when baby is screaming for milk; toddler is whining for a chocolate biscuit; the smoke detector goes off and there’s a bluebottle about to land on my discarded dinner: it’s not a big deal; and it’s not easy.

But I love my girls.

I design on looking smart: for popping out to the shops or on the school run, whereas the reality is on a good day I wipe the mud off my boots with a baby wipe and dry shampoo my fringe.

But I love my girls.

I plan to drink less caffeine, to swap biscuits for fruit, I managed it in an office why can’t I do it now? Why can’t I be my old weight…why do I never have time to exercise…

But I love my girls.

I contemplate going to bed really REALLY early, even though I need to write, to unwind and to be me for a little bit longer. It means I’m a bit more tired in the morning.

But I love my girls.

I’d love to have more time for myself, to eat better, to meal plan, to educate myself, to exercise my brain-cells, to be more motivated, organised, relaxed, well turned-out, healthier, fit, and well rested.

But I love my girls.






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