Mumday Monday - from mother of three boys... to four!

I’ve been very quiet about this piece of news but….

… are you ready?

… are you sitting tight?

…are you prepared for a shock?

Good, well as of last Friday I now have, not THREE boys but FOUR.

You heard right: FOUR.

So my household now consists of

A Daddy

Four boys – some noisier than others

A very unassuming – boy – hamster

And me…

But you can heave a big sigh of relief because BOY #4 is only on temporary loan from France.

My French friend dropped him off on Friday – so he gets a dose of English and I get a two week insight into life as a family with four boys.

Now that Monsieur has joined the ranks of Mr Big, Mr Middle and Mr Small, I have a sort of benchmark of comparison which I’ve been using to full advantage.

Needless to say, Monsieur is exceptionally well behaved, polite and good mannered (just like all my neighbours’ children too, I’ve noticed).

So far every mealtime has consisted of Mr Small leaping on and off his chair to kick one of his many (and I mean MANY) footballs between mouthfuls, whilst Mr Middle sporadically jumps up, joins in and then sits down again. Occasionally. Mr Big adds to the “fun” (yes, I have many grey hairs) by bouncing off his chair, grabbing said ball and making off with it whilst Mr Small screams…

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh give me back my BAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLL”

I wonder what Monsieur makes of all this as he sits with knife and fork in hand whilst I – like a broken record – tell Mr Small to please (pretty PLEEEASE) sit down and use cutlery, not fingers, to eat pasta with sauce.

Naturally, I put these differences down to the civilising influences of Monsieur having an older sister, and not my parental shortcomings!

Do you notice that other people’s children always seem to be so very very good?

I mean I really love my neighbours – both medical consultants and truly charming – but goodness me I wonder what on earth they think of my raucous, crazy household with footballs regularly landing in their garden, smashing into their fence with ear splitting consequences, full-on daily wrestling matches descending into mayhem, trumpets and clarinets being practised, shouting, squealing.

Chaos

So God help Monsieur over the coming 2 weeks.

Having said that I must give my motley crew their fair due: Monsieur does not eat a single fruit and only 2 vegetables feature in his culinary repertoire: peas and carrots.

I was assured by his “maman” that vitamin consumption could be encouraged via “smoo-sees” (that has to be the cutest way of saying the word “smoothie”) but when I whizzed up nectarines bursting with the very essence of summer and banana, not a drop was touched.

Something tells me that it needs to come out of a supermarket carton to be drinkable.

So whilst mealtimes in my world involve footballs, unused cutlery, slanging matches across the table and endless requests to sit still, many a fruit and vegetable are consumed from the earthy notes of cavolo nero, curly kale and spring greens to the fiery flavour of rocket and the refreshing crunch of red peppers and cucumber.

And at this time of year, summer fruits are devoured with a visceral relish for dessert.

So I guess it’s a case of that much over-used phrase “swings and roundabouts”.

You can’t have it all and comparing your children to other people’s kids is a futile exercise.

They all have their loveable and not-so-loveable bits but that’s part of the deal.

As parents we do as best as we can.

Most of the time I get the impression that I am feeling my way through parenthood blindfolded, unsure which way to turn and what to do for the best.

Being a mother is one great big, unendingly steep learning curve.

I often get to the end of the day and feel completely flattened and deflated - as if I have failed the test of motherhood.

But then I have to remind myself that I really do do my very best.

It’s not perfect – by any stretch of the imagination – but to my boys I am their Mama, the only Mama in the world.

And that is the true privilege of motherhood: unconditional love for, and from, our children.

Mr Small, Mr Middle and Mr Big, I love you all more than you could possibly imagine.

I write that to you with tears in my eyes, my loves.  

xxxxx