Letting go.

Today my heart feels a little heavy, my step a little weary, my head a bit bleurgh.

All because I sent my 8 3/4 year old off to an evacuee centre, with his little number round his neck and a black cap on his head. He'll be staying there for 2 nights, learning all about what evacuated kids went through during world war 2. He was beyond excited: patiently listening as I packed and re-packed his case, with a tick list ready for him to adhere to when he packs to return; studying his costume in the mirror and fixing his cap at a jaunty angle. Me - not so much. I mean of course I'm delighted that he's heading off on a school trip with all his buddies, and how much he'll learn and grow from the experience - it is just - he has never left me before. EVER. I keep walking past his room and it all feels so quiet. Sproglette is in mourning - but has managed to quell her tears with haribo. What a trooper.

All of a sudden - on the cusp of 9 - he is growing away from me: he now walks to school with his friends, he changes on his own at swimming and no longer shares baths with his sister - preferring to shower alone. It's as it should be - and yet, I feel so redundant at times. Like, I've waited for this moment (to not have to suffer stinky swimming pool changing rooms for example) and yet now that it is here - I am a bit bereft. Bizarre isn't it? Tis so true that they grow up so friction' quickly. I can understand completely why folk squeeze in baby no 3 (NOT that I have any plans in that direction).

We trundled into the school hall and found out which group he was in. We wandered over to... a group of about 10 girls. His face fell. All around the room his buddies stood in other groups. Luckily he had one chum in his group - which seemed ok, until this kid was sent to another one! Sproglet's face fell and I asked the teacher if he had any more boys in my son's group. He read the list and Sproglet looked so gutted - none were his friends. Now he has many buddies - yesterday he wrote a list of 14 he plans to invite to his party - but not one was on the list. His face told the story. I asked if he disappointed and he replied quietly, 'very.' He stood silently and stared ahead. I sighed, my own stomach in knots - not wishing to leave him with his little face so downbeat.  It reminded me of the years at school in sort when I was picked last for the team, or left out of a girlie secret - it is just DEVASTATING. Suddenly the teacher said, "Sproglet why don't you join Mrs XYZ's group over there," and pointed towards a group of boys in the corner. Sproglet BEAMED and ran towards 6 of his friends. I thanked the teacher (I could have hugged him right there and then like a complete weirdo) - I was just so so glad that he had clocked the situation. The next minute Sproglet was in group photos and laughing away, so kissing him goodbye was easy.

For him.

I dashed away from the school, tears in my eyes and a massive lump in my throat. I miss hearing his voice, hearing Sproglette's laughter as he messes about sending her into fits of giggles. He'll be back on Friday, exhausted, with a (no doubt) half packed case filled with dirty clothes. He'll have stories galore and will ask once again to watch Dad's army. But that night, when I get my hug, I'll be squeezing more tightly than usual. While I still can...

The end of CMWD?

I started this blog many moons ago, mainly because I felt so disenchanted with Motherhood; with the idea I had been sold about what the whole experience would be. I felt lonely, isolated, trapped and insecure and by writing about it, I hoped somehow to connect with others in a similar predicament.

Over the years I've struggled with how to combine motherhood and work; I had never in my wildest dreams imagined how hard a task this would be. My original career as a presenter just wasn't working with a baby's routine and I was somewhat lost about what to do next... As someone who had been incredibly ambitious all her life, to suddenly not be so, left me all at sea.

My marriage suffered many low points with my Husband's demanding job: for 5 plus years I felt like a single parent, without the kudos and occasional free weekend...  I lost my job due to company policy to not let a script editor stay on after 2 years and got pregnant the same week I left. I tried to find solutions to my never ending work/motherhood problem but the solutions didn't pay very well - and most of my income was taken by childcare costs.

I bemoaned the difficulties of Motherhood, not least the loss of self. It felt like a job I had no apparent skills to do - the needs of children forever shifting, my abilities never quite enough. This blog became my place of respite, where I could vent un-judged. Where I could be honest and still find support. Most of all, it was somewhere I could go to write - something I loved to do.

At the weekend I realised I've kind of come full circle. I am now in love with Motherhood in a way I perhaps never was. My kids are at gorgeous ages: almost 9 and 4. Leaving my job last year to be around for them more, was one of the best things I have ever done. In having more time for them, I became less stressed - and all of a sudden things became so much easier. Sure, I have been broke most of this year - as I plough on towards new horizons, but I am much much happier. On Sunday the gales blew, and we ordered Thai food. Sitting around the table we played the post-it game where we all tried to guess the name on our foreheads. I felt content. Grateful for all I have. It has taken me a long time to get here.

I don't have buckets of angst any more. I'm not bitter about earning so little but working so hard. I'm no longer enraged that I never had maternity pay, that my career in TV proved so difficult and relentless. I don't feel other Mothers are better than me, or have some insider secrets. I'm no longer lonely. I've reached a point where I'm beyond proud of my kids - not through my parenting - but just the little people that they are. The way they view the world. The joy they see in it.

Husband, thanks to his best friend - has a whole new way of living and is an equal parent in every way. He has been more supportive to me in the past year than I could have asked of anyone. He believes in me, even when I don't believe in myself.

Finally, I think, I'm at a point where all my questions of old: 'how do I combine work and motherhood successfully?' have been answered. I'm not there just yet, but almost.

I feel I don't want to share my life any more. It isn't interesting to anyone but me. It is school runs, and football matches, plaiting hair and washing swim kits. It is parent evenings and movie dates. It is dinner with friends and Husband cooking up a storm for neighbours (beef wellington no less). It is red wine and Bloodline. It is sun on my face as I run along our pretty canal and wind in my hair at the side of a football pitch. It is deeply mundane. It is perfect. I've learnt that no-one is the perfect mother - that no marriage is forever secure. That everyone worries about money and career and making ends meet. That we all fear failure, that we all have moments of doubt. I just shared mine with everyone on here, that was all.

It's time for me to take a break from here. Not that I won't be back. I just don't know when. Writing as my job now has meant less need to jot it all down here. Maybe I'll buy a diary instead. But I do want to thank all those over the years who have told me how much they love my blog: that it made them laugh, or cry, or both. For the lovely writers who have told me 'You can write' - a huge compliment from such talented folk. I have felt so much love and kindness when people bothered to comment in my moments of dark despair. I honestly think this blog is the reason my marriage is still together and my head is vaguely sane.

I will always be the crummy mummy who drinks. I just don't feel so crummy any more.

Love always,

CM xxx