As a mother we seem to have an innate ability to juggle many balls in the air at one time. It’s something I think that women are born with.
The Blue Eyed Chef was on hold the other night renewing our newspaper subscription when I asked him a question. He held up his hand and told me he couldnt talk because he was on hold. That’s right, on hold listening to terrible music, but he couldn’t juggle doing that and holding a conversation! Had it been me, I would have been on hold, preparing dinner and simultaneously breastfeeding Tinkerbell. But no, his brain couldn’t listen to one thing and talk. I’m not too high on my soap box, I’m the first to admit we don’t always juggle well, but part of the job description would definitely include juggling…..this got me thinking just what would the job description read? For my family it would be as follows….
We are a family of 2 children (one 2.5, one 10 weeks old) , one husband (works long hours, more often than not not home in the evening and from September to December is extremely busy cooking for other peoples parties so is not home) and a 4 year old Cavoodle (technically whom requires walking, but is just as happy to sit on your lap and watch tv for as long as anyone will allow) we are seeking a mother whom fulfills all or most of the below requirements:
Finds the joy in both the small and larger things in life. A mother who has time to stop to smell the roses, star gaze, marvel at new growth in the garden and sky writing.
Reads good stories and when she says ‘we are only having 2 tonight’, she will sneak in an extra just to suprise us
When the Blue Eyed Chef is not home and taking care of the cooking, you will be required to cook us yummy, nutritionally complete breakfast, lunches and dinners, sweet treats and snacks. And just when we’ve eaten peas every night for 4 nights and you think you’re onto a winner we will announce that we don’t like peas and we shall never eat them again forcing you to discover another ‘green’ that we will eat.
Time to yourself will be limited. Often when you sneak off to have a shower and reclaim five minutes of peace we may ride our scooter into the bathroom and demand a drink, or start going through the bathroom cupboard and apply sunscreen at bedtime, thus cutting short your ‘me time’ and your shower time!
Must be resiliant to mess. Just when you think it’s tidy we will probably mess it up and you will have to clean it up again.
Will be able to answer all our questions and quell all our fears about garbage trucks, postmen, barking dogs and any other foreign noise or sight that we are not aware of yet.
You will be unable to talk on the phone for long periods of time, read a magazine from front to back in one sitting or lie in bed and read the papers on a Sunday morning (well maybe you will….but this will only be once a year on mothers day).
Organisation in this role is key. You must be able to plan to walk out the door by a certain time and be prepared with snacks, drinks, change of clothes in case toddler has an accident, nappies, change of clothes in case baby has an accident, something to occupy us both whilst you’re at the post office in a queue 20 people deep and whatever item or items (there could be up to 5) the toddler wishes to accompany them on their outing that day – be it a ball, three dolls, a plastic dinosaur and assortment of costume jewellery. Ergo, carry a bag of similar size to something you back-packed around Europe with in your 20′s (remember that? when you were young and free? ha!)
You will also be required to be publically presentable. On the days you think you look half decent, it is highly likely that as you walk out the door you will be slobbered, vomited or pooed on. Or, if you’re lucky you might get the trifecta all in the space of walking from the front door to the car parked on the street. On the days when you schlep out the door with your hair in the same pony tale it’s been in for three days, your tracksuit pants that are too short at the ankle and the top that you wore to bed for the last two nights you will be sure to bump into the most groomed person you know. Be warned; she will have three equally groomed, prefectly behaved children who look like they are out of a Country Road catalogue and her mother-in-law will also be present (equally groomed in twinset and pearls and she co-incidentally will be a client of your husband, as it turns he regularly caters for her ‘luncheons’ at her mansion). So our best advice is to be prepared. Always.
You must be knowledgeable on medicines, what to fix a fever with, what a viral rash is or the signs of a middle ear infection. You must be able to change sheets promptly, in the dark at midnight when they have been vomited on. You should know how to kiss a scratched knee to make it better and how to distract us when we get shampoo in our eyes at bathtime.
There will be no hand over file or manual on how to cope best with this job. You will make mistakes and beat yourself up about them – some rightly so and others not. You will lie awake at night and be unable to resolve problems/concerns/issues about us. Your heart will melt when we smile at you, or when our hand slips into yours unaware you will know true love. You will juggle simultaneously being a daughter to your parents, a sister to your siblings, a friend to your friends, a wife to your husband and a mother to us.
Just when you think you can’t do it anymore and we’ve beaten you with our demands, tantrums, mess and millionth request for something - we will smile, throw our arms around you and tell you we love you. or we will sleep through the night or marvel you with just what a little miracle we are. Or we will say something funny and adult like (just today when I got frustrated at dropping something Goldilocks told me to ‘take a deep breaf Mumma’) that will make you laugh out loud at the time and again later when you recount the story over dinner to your husband.
Only serious applicants apply, this job is for a lifetime. But the possibilities of joy are endless.