by BR Natalie
I was 6 weeks postpartum with Milky Chops when I lost my identity.
Tired and grumpy and so over doing all of the housework and night nappies, I snapped at The Husband. No major crime, except for the fact his relative was visiting at the time. And her words haunt me to this day.
"Get on with it. That's what mothers do".
I was chastised and put firmly in my place. To complain, to argue, to raise my eyebrows well, it wouldn't be very motherly would it? And for the last five years, I've held myself to that belief. Oh sure, I chunter, I moan, I sigh. But for the most part, I just get on with it.
I grew up watching my mum do it all. And like so many, she never made a huge deal of it. Maybe a passing comment here or there. A sarcastic; "well there's no one else to do it" or a grumpy "well you could always do it yourself". But she never really complained.
That's what mothers do.
Now I work full time, I have a 5 year old and a 2 year old. I was home 2 hours after giving birth and putting the laundry on 7 hours later, while the husband slept. Because you know, he was tired. Labour was tough on him. And well, that's what mothers do.
We see it so often in our job. People telling us why they want a spot on the trial team. Why they want to win something. Why they can't buy a Beauty Box.
I'm a hardworking mum, I don't have the time. All of my money goes on the kids. My husband never remembers it's Mother's Day.
I was actually asked to write about the best Mothers Day present I'd received. But I've never had one. The Husband doesn't do commercial holidays. And of course, we don't do this for the acknowledgement, right?
Trying not to be a Bitter Betty I asked my mummy what her best present was.
"My tattoo" she said. Eh? I didn't buy her that. None of us kids did. Dad definitely didn't. And then I understood.
That was the point. She did something she'd wanted to do for years but couldn't, wouldn't or shouldn't. She couldn't afford it when we needed school shoes or because she felt guilty taking treat money for herself, instead of treating one of us. She wouldn't because Dad doesn't like them. And she shouldn't because it's not what mothers do.
Her best present was one no one else could give her, because it was only hers to give. She decided she wanted something and she finally allowed herself to have it. No, not the tattoo itself. But the acknowledgment that she isn't a mother first, a wife second and a whole list of other things before herself. She is a woman, her own woman. She isn't defined by societal expectation, familial responsibility or childish expectations. She is defined by her thoughts. Her desires, her passions, her wants, her needs, her heartbeat. Her sacrifices.
So maybe it's ok if the best gift you get this year is the one you give yourself.
...The tattoo you've always wanted.
...A Beauty Box you've put $10 aside a week for.
Yep. Us mama's are awesome. We all may mother differently, but we all mother the best we can. Sometimes we need to spoil ourselves.