If I counted the amount of time I spend each day in direct contact with the floor at the moment, usually all four limbs, sometimes just the two, it would be a dirty big fat huge amount.
It’s so easy to get bogged down, quite literally some days, in the world of bins, antibacterial cleaning spray, dustpans and brushes, dirty laundry, blood, sweat and tears that motherhood entails and to lose sight of the good times. But you simply must try to hang on to them, as Oscar Wilde so rightly pointed out when he said: “We’re all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”
But forget Wilde. I’ll give you an example.
Today as I was sitting on my bed trying to get BUB.2 off for his daytime nap, my eyes rested on my open wardrobe of old clothes and my heart sank – a mixture of faded, grey maternity tops, jogging bottoms, ill-fitting jeans and old dresses I can’t bear to part with but can barely get past my knees – and if I can my boobs have the last laugh.
But as I scanned the wardrobe again, I saw among those clothes weddings, christenings, first dates, laughter-filled nights out, a proposal and some cracking holidays. Even if none of it fits anymore, there throughout the threadbare dross hang the highlights of my life. Right there.
I was a little taken aback that I had missed noticing this until today.
And I think that’s a bit like motherhood. One day we’ll all be slumped, probably still exhausted, on the sofa looking back at these early days of motherhood and I am certain those first steps, first words, the first day at school, the running into your arms, the birthdays and that bicycle ride around the leafy park one autumn Sunday will shine far brighter in our minds than the varicose veins, stretch marks, thick waist, scaly hands, pitta bread boobs, ruined back and empty bank account. Absolutely certain.