I
guess the first time I truly realised this, was the time I carelessly, (but by
no means deliberately), left a young little madam – who was only a wee
five-month-old at the time – on the couch, while I quickly disappeared into the
kitchen to warm a bottle of milk only to, seconds later, have my ears filled
with a surprisingly loud THUD. In case
you haven’t realised, this was the sound little madam made as she rolled off
the couch onto the floor (which, mind you, is hardwood, not carpet. Naturally, this thud was followed by a
terrifying howl. And, although this howl
still haunts me to the day, amazingly I still hadn’t learnt my lesson when I
made the exact same mistake with little man – who was also only a wee
five-month-old – a couple of years ago.
On this occasion (ironically) the same loud THUD, which was followed by
the same terrifying howl, preceded the same realisation. Looks
like I’m not going to be in the running for that award, again!
Although
I believe my lesson, with regards to leaving littlies unsupervised on a couch
above a hard-wood floor, has now been learnt, I guess (given I’ve decided two
is enough children for me) I will never have the opportunity to prove it. And, of course, as there are no instruction
manuals that come with the task of raising a child (or children), and it’s
trial and error most of the time - I guess in my case (and probably in the case
of the majority of mothers out there, I’m guessing) it’s the latter -so
unfortunately, these two incidences aren’t the only reason I'm certain I have a
long way to go before I will even come close to being eligible for a nomination
in the Australian Mother of the Year Awards.
Take
a more recent incident. Perhaps one that
occurred at the very start of the year, when I promised little madam an
afternoon outing to the park; only to find myself having to renege on that
promise, due to the fact that I had to cook dinner, then clean up the mess I
had (in order to allow myself a few spare minutes to chop vegetables and brown
meat etc) allowed little man to make. He
had pulled almost everything out of the cupboards in his reach (and in my small
kitchen, this is quite a number and, as a result, amounted to quite a lot of
stuff on the floor; stuff which included half a jar of sprinkles!), then tend
to a never-ending pile of washing, which was nearly as high as the ceiling (this
is also, mainly, thanks to little man, who wasn’t the cleanest of individuals at the time
and insisted on needing his outfit changed several times a day). So, by the time I’d gotten around to doing
all the “necessary things” – or perhaps, “things I considered necessary”, is a better term - I was forced to have to
explain to little madam (who has a memory like an African Elephant) that
there wasn’t going to be time for the park, after all. And, despite the fact that I promised her we'd
definitely go the next day, I’m fairly certain that the pleading, which became
crying, which then became an uncontrollable sobbing fit (and a very loud
tantrum) could have been translated into the following statement: “You are not going to
be in the running for the 2012 Australian Mother of the Year Award!” It's hard
to believe, I’d managed to blow my chances in only the second week of the New
Year!
I
guess, in summary, if I were to list, and describe, all the incidences that
have occurred in my time as a mother so far, that make me consider myself
undeserving of a nomination in the Australian Mother of the Year Awards, I could
fill an entire book. Instead though, I
guess I should try a little harder to focus on the positives; the moments when
I actually take the time to observe my two littlies and realise that I don't
need an award, or a nomination, to realise that I’m actually doing a reasonable
job of this parenting gig. And, although
I’m guilty of doing things most mothers do, but don’t want to admit to - such
as yelling a little more than I should, focussing a little too much on the
state of my house at times, rather than on little madam and little man (did I
mention the washing is nearly as high as the ceiling, though?), and, not to
mention, making promises that are sometimes impossible to keep – the truth is
this: The real reason I won’t be in the
running for an Australian Mother of the Year Award is because, at the moment,
little madam, and little man, are still far too young to be able to write up their
nominations. Well, that’s the excuse I’m
going to use while I can, anyway.
Thanks, little madam and little man, for reminding me that babies and couches are a terrible combination. Love you both!
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