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Feature blog at 'My Tiny Wardrobe' 23/05/2016
So many times of late, have I heard this very saying. These last few years have shown me how important having a village around you really is... but what happens if like me, you don't have one? The sad reality is that for many of the people I know, their village is getting smaller and smaller. There are fewer and fewer helping hands around, whether that’s due to family composition, or logistical reasons. Long gone are the days when as a brand new mother, you would have all of your family and friends within reach. When you knew all of your neighbours, even the milkman, the postman and the guy down at the local butcher shop. For many of the people that I know, this couldn't be further from reality; I know my own reality is nothing like this at all.
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Of recent years, motherhood has become a little bittersweet for me.
I love the fact that I (supposedly) get a day that's all about me and my #mumlife. A day where I can be treated like the queen (of the washing pile), and even catch a sleep in (ok, ok, I'll stop making jokes now). That's the sweet part. The bitter part lies in the fact that neither Nathan nor I have a mother around to share the day with, or to celebrate. It's no secret that I have always had a somewhat strained or estranged relationship with my own mother, and sadly, Nathan's wonderfully supportive and beautiful (in every way) mum passed away a few short months before Abbie was born. She was taken far too soon, too soon for all of us. I don't think as you grow older, that you stop needing the support and guidance that a mum can provide... and if that's no longer available to you, I think you inevitably, whether of conscious decision or not, seek it out. -For me it's in the love and warmth from my dad. The hours and hours of conversation, the laughter and the confidence of knowing that I am in a safe place. The comfort of a hug, and the ability to convey a message with a look. I'm sick and tired of reading articles stating,
"I love my husband more than my kids" I call bullshit. I'm sorry (not sorry), but I just don't see it the same way. I love my kids so much that I worry about them in my sleep... IN MY SLEEP! They are part of me, mind, body and soul. There's absolutely no comparison between this and the way I love my husband. Don't get me wrong I love my husband, I mean I REALLY LOVE him. He's a pain in my ass half the time, but he's loved me through some really tough times, he's supported me, he's my comfort, and laughter (sometimes), we have shared so many incredible experiences and we have a bond now that I just couldn't do without. The two LOVES cannot be compared! How can one compare the intense, basic and instinctual kind of love shared with your child, with the passionate, comforting and romantic kind of love shared with your partner? If someone forced me to make a choice between my husband and my children, I would without hesitation choose my children... And I would expect my husband's answer to be the same. In fact, I would almost be upset if he had it the other way around. I remember being (obviously hormonal) pregnant saying to my husband "Whatever happens during labour and birth, DO NOT LEAVE THAT BABY". I knew it then, I know it now. But what do I know, I'm just a humble mummy-blogger. Maybe my husband's getting the raw end of the stick here, but it is what it is... you know? |
Behind the blog...‘The Mummysomniac’ is a lifestyle, motherhood and most recently, pregnancy blog, founded in 2015 by Kirsty McKenzie. She’s a mum of three, blogging about the highs and lows of motherhood, with a straight forward and honest approach, as well as a little bit of humour. Kirsty is passionate about sharing the realities of #MumLife, not the cookie cutter, high gloss version
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