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Sabrina

When what you need to do is not what you want to do

It was my first night shift at work after a glorious 9 months of mornings spent in pyjamas, days of peekaboo and 'this little piggy' and evenings spent snuggling on the sofa with my baby son. It was the end of my brief experience of being a stay at home mum and the beginning of a new chapter in my life - working mumma! 

To say this is what I wanted would be a complete lie. I have spent the last nine months desperately trying to discover a way of being able to commit to the good life at home, but alas, what you need to do is not always what you want to do! So I opted for the next best option, still offering the opportunity to watch my son grow and learn, yet still bringing in the much needed pennies - night shifts. 

On my first night shift I highly underestimated the effects of being awake all night. Having opted for no sleep during the day I found myself fighting tears at 2am as I faced the remaining five hours of my sleepless night. The thought of having to return for a further shift the following night made me question my whole decision. 

Why had I chosen to drag myself out in the evenings at an hour when I would ordinarily be ready for bed and force myself to stay awake all night, then drive my half hour journey home where I would then fill my mummy shoes for the remainder of the day? 

But when my shift was over, and I had made it safely to Nanny's house, and my tiny boy was waving a packet of baby wipes at me in-between tears that began as it dawned on him that he hadn't seen his mummy since he woke up, and when his tears turned to smiles as I lifted him into my arms, snuggling into his fire engine pyjamas, it all came together - the reason why I will continue to suffer the night shift as my body screams for sleep, the reason why I will drag myself into the dark at 9.30pm when everyone else is settling in for the night, the reason why I will load up on coffee and vitamins to maintain my sanity.

 I get to spend every day with this blue-eyed boy who smiles at me because I am his mummy, who beams with joy when he masters the art of waving, or blowing kisses or beat boxing (thanks to daddy!) 

It's easy to lose perspective when you just feel sorry for yourself, when you want to cry through the exhaustion. But I am learning to remember what is important in life. I am learning to remind myself that I am lucky to spend my days with the little blue-eyed boy who doesn't care if mummy has bags under her eyes, or if mummy has to have a nap when he does. And holding on to this, makes the night shift so much easier - (well, that and copious amounts of caffeine!)

A letter to a younger me (letters to)

To the little girl I used to be, there are so many things I want to tell you I hardly know where to start. First of all, those girls you try so hard to fit in with, they are not your friends. You know the ones I mean, they are the ones who find their fun by humiliating others, by threatening and excluding, who go out of their way to make sure others feel worthless. These are the girls who knocked on your door and asked you out to play, who then ridiculed you and spat on your brand new winter coat and laughed until you cried. In the coming years you will learn that this is not friendship, you will find amazing girls with whom you will grow into beautiful women. These girls will not break you, they will lift you and encourage you. These girls are your true sisters, you will soon learn this child.

Try not to think of your life as boring as you watch everyone around you living in their soap opera dramas. You might think their lives are so much more exciting than yours as they go through boyfriends and break ups and you play the ear to listen when they pick you back up again. Trust me little one, one day you will be glad to be the boring one, one day you will learn that the break ups and arguments and seemingly interesting parts of life are just painful and unwanted. You with your uninteresting life, you get to stroke tears away from cheeks, you get to listen and love, you get to be a rock for someone who can't find their feet. Embrace this role.

Stop starving yourself! You are perfect the way you are! Your weight will fluctuate throughout the years, but let me let you in on a secret...when you are twenty five, that body of yours will give birth to a beautiful baby boy. That extra weight you gain will no longer mean anything to you but the weight needed to create life and those stretch marks, just your body's way of making room for your child. This is when, for the first time, you will stop worrying about the size of your thighs or the wobble of your arms and realize there are far more important things in life than this.

One final word before I go. Visit your grandparents more often. I know you are young and would rather be out playing with your friends, but they are your family and they are elderly. They will not be around forever. And you will feel deep sadness when they go, that you didn't take more time to sit with them and tell them about your week.

There are many more things I would tell you if I could, but I will leave you with this. Keep loving your parents, be loyal to your true friends, and that brother of yours will soon stop tormenting you and will even be the first at the hospital to hold his new baby nephew.

Adulthood is waiting for you, so stop trying to grow up and just enjoy being a child whilst you can.

 


I am linking up today with Melanie at Indirect Revelations who is graciously guest hosting for the Letters to link up! Please visit her site and feel free to take part, today's prompt is 'A letter to a younger me'.

An invitation for custard creams

My hot chocolate looked divine, all steamy and sprinkled and mouth-wateringly frothy - a perfect counterpart to the drizzling, grey skies outside the coffee shop. There we sat, four different women with four buggies, four tiny lives asleep in their cosy toes the only thing connecting us. 

The local toddler group was over for another week and for the first time we all agreed to take the labour memories and teething experiences out for coffee. 

As a little girl, I found it very easy to make friends and always found new playmates no matter where I was. As an adult however, albeit fairly confident and conversational, I sometimes struggle with turning a polite 'how are you?' Or a regularly exchanged nod of acknowledgement into a friendship. In hindsight, I often wish I had just exchanged phone numbers or extended an invitation for tea and custard creams! 

But on this wet and muggy day, we four women were brought together, and bonded by a shared experience, all different perspectives but nevertheless, the same. It struck me as such a wonderful thing, that these beautiful mini humans had brought each one of us to set buggies aside, pull up a tub chair and take fifteen minutes out of our day to get to know one another. Like a handful of flowers thrown into the same vase, we were blossoming together, revealing our own petals, our unique colours and scents. 

Somehow, having a baby on your hip gives you courage to go out on your own, to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger also juggling children and changing bags.

I love that common interests are not necessary as we relate over breastfeeding and cloth nappies and what we feed our children for breakfast. And isn't that what friendships are all about? - finding those people with their own opinions, their own minds and hearts to lean on, to learn from, to teach and to celebrate. To just do life.

Mercy (five minute friday)

As I sit vigil, awaiting the day staff to relieve me of my duties, I watch from the window as the night turns into day. As the darkness is washed away, morning highlighting every leaf and blade, the lines painted back into brickwork, the colours restored to the map of the world plastered onto the garden wall, blues and greens brightly dancing with one another to the tune of the morning birds. 

I am reminded that every day is a new mercy.

Every morning is an opportunity for forgiveness, for redemption, for reconciliation. Each day is a chance for us to be renewed, painted bright and beautiful in the early morning glow. We are butterflies, released from our cocoon of sleep with shiny new wings to stretch.

In His mercy, we are new every morning.



I am linking up today with Lisa-Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday.

Letter to the fly on the wall (Letters to)

To the fly on the wall,

I'm sure, to you, my life must seem a little scattered at the moment. You see my tears flow, and just as quickly as they began, turn to laughter. You hear the anger and harsh words thrown between loved ones, and the embraces of apology and forgiveness soon after.
I'm sure envy is not something you will have felt for me this past week.

When times are tough (which they seem to be so often these days) it's hard to direct the fear into positivity, to turn terror into productivity as is usually my way. When it feels like everything is falling apart, the lines of communication are broken, and love feels lost, like a grey cloud resting over my home and heart, blurring what's real and what's important.

I'm sure, like me, you noticed the absence of his cheeky smile, his child-like playfulness and his very loud and out of tune renditions of Lionel Richie. I wonder if you too would have given anything to put the spark back, to hear him say he is fine and actually believe it.

But somewhere in the grey, underneath the fear and in-between the hateful words bouncing off of these walls, our hearts are still beating and my lips are still praying and hoping to be heard. 

Love has not left this place just because we are struggling to understand each other. Life is not over just because another obstacle has landed in our path.

I wonder, fly on the wall, if you have seen the armor of God surrounding me in these last few days, if you have witnessed the many answered prayers that have blessed this house. How quickly things can change in the space of a week. How different today has been from the last seven. How my prayers have changed from desperate requests to songs of thanks.

I know that He is with me, and through the hurt, the sadness and the fear of the unknown I have felt His guiding hand upon my shoulder. I have heard His soothing words of encouragement, to trust in Him, to stand firm, to practice forgiveness and compassion.

And slowly, fly on the wall, my home is returning to normal. You will hopefully notice the lighter air, the smiles creeping back to our lips, the peace within my heart. And the warbling of Lionel Richie is surely just around the corner.  


This fortnight's prompt is Letter to the fly on the wall - over to you!

The next 'Letters to' will be held at Ruth's place at Learning {One day at a time}  on the 17th September and the prompt will be 'A letter to a younger me'.