Christmas mimosa

It’s 6:37 am, December 30^th.

Yesterday we did a 10-hour trip back home after spending 9 days in Spain visiting my family for Christmas. Taxi, bus, train, plane - we crossed off almost every type of vehicle to finally get them to bed at 10:30pm. They are now calling out from their room asking is it bright outside yet (it is not).

7:56am. I have already unsuccessfully tried to get them back to bed three times, wiped two butts, answered 17 questions, looked for a teddy that was simply under the pillow and turned off the radiator as it is “too creepy” even though it is 2 degrees outside. That is in addition to getting up three times during the night to fix a blanket that was already perfectly laid.

I give up and we come downstairs. I’m greeted by the pile of suitcases that I was too tired to unpack last night, and all the Christmas decorations that feel way too overstimulating - YUCK. I have a headache from the long trip and the lack of sleep, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to even look at food today after how much we’ve eaten during the holiday. The twins, however, have been continuously entertained and showered in presents and treats by all 14 members of my family for the last 9 days, so their current level of energy looks like what they were looking for under the pillow in the middle of the night was, in fact, cocaine rather than a teddy. Great.

I pour 2 bowls of Rice Krispies as the easy way out for breakfast while I reach out for my hormone balance tablets since, 5 years in, my body hasn’t fully recovered from the pregnancy yet. I also hand them out a double dose of kids multivitamin gummies because I cannot handle another round of sickness. While I successfully convince myself it is way too early for a festive mimosa and question why do I not like the taste of coffee as it sounds like the most appropriate drink to have at a moment like this, I can’t help but wonder: When is it valid to complain about motherhood without feeling guilty or people telling you “You’ll miss it when it’s gone”?

I am grateful, and I love my twins more than anything, but I am truly and extremely exhausted. I haven’t had a full night sleep in 5 years. That alone will drive anyone crazy I believe. There are so many things in motherhood that push your nervous system and your mental sanity to their absolute limit, perhaps even further, and yet, you keep going because there’s no other option.

There’s no break, no pause, no silence, no downtime, no time to reset.

There’s challenges, obstacles and priorities.

There’s planning, scheduling, going against the clock and rushing out the door.

There’s non-stop questions, requests and demands.

There’s never ending laundry and meals to cook that nobody eats.

There’s fights to break and tears to wipe.

There’s clothes to fold and toys to put away.

There’s shopping to do and errands to run.

There’s a house that’s never tidy, a to-do list that’s never complete and a mind that’s never clear.

There’s “no, mami do it!”, when there’s another pair of hands available.

And there’s guilt.

Guilt if we’re working instead of being at home,

guilt if we’re at home instead of pursuing a career that we love,

guilt for cleaning the house instead of playing,

guilt for playing with our kids instead of cleaning the house,

guilt for making chicken nuggets & chips for dinner,

guilt for putting on TV so that we can cook a healthy dinner,

guilt for forgetting one thing even though we remembered 50.

It never ends.

I don’t wish for a second to go back to pre-kids life, that’s not it. I don’t wish I could go out every Saturday night or go about my day with no schedule, I really don’t. But I would certainly love to sleep through the night every now and then, or sleep past 6am once a week, or not having to bribe a tiny version of myself to go to the shop to get milk, or not playing small-people-boxing referee 78 times per day, or remembering what music I liked to listen to before cartoon’s theme songs and lullabies.

There are just so many little challenges and obstacles that we must jump over just to get through a normal day. I think it is reasonable enough that every now and then someone with kids feels the need to complain about this, and they should be allowed to do so.

Now, don’t let this little rant fool you into thinking I am crying in a corner while my kids go feral in the sitting room, because when I finish writing this in the glorious 4 and a half minutes a bowl of plain cereal is providing me, I will get up and go play pretend to be the bad guy from paw Patrol for 48 minutes straight. And no, I wouldn’t pick to be still in bed at 9:30am over having these 4 beautiful eyes looking at me while we play, but to be completely honest I would pick watching Bluey on repeat for the rest of the morning if I could do so without that mum guilt showing up for the 2^nd time already today (1^st one was the boring Rice Krispies for breakfast).

So my only real advice is this: if you’re a parent, surround yourself with people who let you rant without judgement. And if they listen AND bring wine, don’t ever let them go.