A Luta Continua*

All of us looking a bit frazzled after Scrub Island

I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that one of the key reasons for us moving halfway around the world was so that I could scale down and spend more time with the boys. Up until very recently, ‘mothering’ used to be something that I did when I wasn’t working. Now, it seems that working is something that I do when I’m not being a mother. The mindshift which this has required, plus the matching skillset, has made moving to a tropical island look like a complete cupcake, by comparison.

Although I spent the weekends and long holidays with the kids in South Africa (and considered myself a “hands-on” mother, as one SAHM* rather pompously informed me she was) Tyler and the nannies were their day-to-day ‘carers’ – the people who sorted out their socks, did dentist appointments, poured a million juices, clipped 80 toe & finger nails and did all the things that children require a hundred times a day, 365 days a year. I just felt like I swooped in for the glamorous stuff.

The kids don’t appear to have suffered as a result of my absences but I always felt like I did. I didn’t want the increasing list of missed birthdays, school nativity plays and other rites of passage to grow – and I was increasingly haunted by that old chestnut about how one reflects on one’s death bed about how one spent one’s time in life.

So armed with my Cath Kitson MBA kind of view on life, I jumped in, nine months ago to being (a) full time mom (b) full time housewife and (c) semi part-time worker in a trust company. I honestly thought New-York-Times-reading- Martha-Stewart- channelling- Domestic-Goddess Yummy Mummy.

Oh hahahahahahahahahha. Oh hahahahahhahaha. Ha ha ha ha. Nothing can prepare one for the endless humility and sheer selfishness which is required to do this, not to mention the torrid amount of mess that 3 little boys can generate. That kids lose their shoes ALL THE TIME, never pick up their Lego and never put the lids back on the felt-tip pens EVER! Nobody mentioned the industrial quantities of Spaghetti Bolognese which has to be cooked, the three PE schedules which have to be remembered and the 60 birthday parties per annum to be endured.

And this is all before any ‘parenting’ as such happens - the guiding of three little souls and the imparting of wisdom and knowledge which we must do as responsible, middle class parents. Most of the time one is just too exhausted for this bit. It mainly seems to boil down to “have you finished your homework/practised your scales/found your library book?” Good, goodnight then.

Mostly it’s a blur from the minute I get up (currently 5am) till I fall into bed. I'm definitely not one of those 'bright & breezy' moms who uncomplainingly makes endless peanut butter sandwiches (“there’s the bread, there’s the butter, do it yourself”) and I seem to spend a lot of time ranting at the children and often can be found muttering darkly about the cavalier qualities of a five year old, an eight year old and a 10 year old.

Like every other mother, I suspect, on the planet.

Being a bit of a novice about all of this - I try and take it as it comes and enjoy it all whilst pondering where a million socks go to die. I have to remind myself to keep my sense of humour, swear less, wait until at least 6:30pm until I have that first glass of wine and dig more sandcastles. I wouldn’t change this for anything in the world and deep in my heart I secretly enjoy being a bit of a martyr – so I clearly have the makings of a matriarch.

So here's to all the real and wonderful mothers that I know – Viva Mothers day, Viva! A luta continua!

* 'A Luta Continua' means 'The Struggle Continues' - for all you post-Eighties babes who dont know your Che Guevaro's from your Sandanistas!
*SAHM = Stay at Home Mother. Also see WAHM – Work at Home Mother