Close Encounters of the Motherhood Kind // Motherhood

About a month ago I was sitting at the local swimming pool, watching Punky splash in the shallows while we waited for her lesson. We had gotten there early so that she could play in the small park outside, but as it turns out, the area was closed while they replaced all the grass in preparation for Spring and the outdoor pool re-opening.

Zee was in the pram and I was slowly pushing her back and forward while she munched on a biscuit and watched Punky play. As I sat there, I noticed a couple of other small kids, one slightly older than Punky, one slightly younger. They were there with their Mum who was swimming around after them and, to be honest, looking well and truly exhausted.



I gave her an understanding smile as she called out for her kids to stay close, and then watched as her eldest walked up to Punky and tried to initiate play. Punky was slow to respond, but eventually she warmed up and the three kids spent the next 15 minutes splashing around and chasing each other.

At this stage the exhausted Mum climbed out of the pool and came and sat down next to me with her stuff. She told me it was a relief that we had shown up, and that the kids were happy to play together, because it gave her a break and a chance to sit and have a breather.

We got to chatting, and as we talked it became clear that she was struggling with the demands of two small children. Her kids were only 15 months apart and she was a full-time stay at home Mum. She was older than me, probably late 30s, and she'd given up a good career to have and take care of her kids.

She mentioned more than once about how some days she really struggled to keep things in order around the house, how the kids tested her patience to the limit, how she didn't realise just how full-on small kids would be. We both agreed that some days, at the end of a long week, it was just easier to take them out to the park and let them run around and exhaust themselves, in the hopes that they might bless you with a nap when you got home, then have to deal with the reality of the housework you hadn't gotten around to.

We talked about how it wasn't important to either of us to live in an immaculate house, but some kind of order needed to be restored from time to time, as the constant mess could be just as draining as the constant fighting, whining, or exuberant energy of the kids. That sometimes the overwhelming need to create some order in the chaos made the needs of the kids super frustrating when you were just trying to get shit done!

I confessed to her that there were some days when I let the kids do whatever they wanted all day, that the TV would be on from sun-up to sun-down, we would have chips for dinner and no baths before bed. That on those days, I didn't even bother to put on a bra till midday and spent most of the day lying on the floor of the lounge room with the girls, just letting them climb all over me and play. On those days, nothing got done, no washing, real cleaning, just the barest minimum to keep the kitchen clear enough so we could eat breakfast, lunch & dinner.

I told her that we lived with an almost chronic case of CHAOS (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome) and that while it might be (mostly) clean, my house was most definitely not tidy. In fact, most days it literally looked like it had been ransacked by some crazed tiny terrorists, hellbent on pulling every toy, container, plate, cup, sock, piece of underwear, t-shirt, pants and bag from every cupboard and drawer in the house.

While we discussed our own realities of motherhood I could see her visibly relax. As I confessed the often unspoken ways of our house to her, she told me more and more about her life. She told me how relieved she was to hear that she wasn't the only one who struggled with being at home alone with the kids full-time. That she often felt like the only one who wasn't able to keep her house clean and always tidy, and that she felt pressure not to tell people just how very tired she was by the end of the day after parenting two toddlers and would often find herself crashed out on the lounge at 4pm while the kids played around her.

It was amazing how much she shared with me in a short chat by the side of the pool. It was only when the kids ran up to us that I realised what time it was and that Punky's swimming class was starting. I told the other kids' Mum that I was sorry I couldn't chat longer, but that we were there every Friday and always had lunch in the cafe after Punky's lesson. I told her that if she was ever there on a Friday to come and join us.

What I didn't tell her was my name. I didn't get hers. I wish I had. I wished I'd asked her her name and her email address. Because I could see from the way she talked, the things she told me and the questions she asked, that she was in desperate need of a friend. Someone she could share her reality of being a Mum with.

I wish I had taken the time to do this, rather than worrying about missing the start of Punky's class and rushing off. If we'd had longer to chat I would have tried to reassure her that we all do the best we can. That as long as the kids are alive and breathing, fed, happy and feel loved at the end of the day, then that's all that matters.

I really hope I see her again at the pool. She seemed like such a lovely lady. She seemed like she could really do with a friend. I'd love to hang out with her and buy her a coffee, help her wrangle her kids and just quietly let her know that she's doing a great job. Sometimes that's all we really need, we just need to know that we're not alone in our struggles.

This is why I blog about the shit stuff. It's why I don't sugar coat the details of life as a Mum of small children. After speaking to this lady I wondered just how many other Mums are out there, beating themselves up for what they believe are their failings. How many are thinking that they are the only ones who struggle to keep it together sometimes, the only ones who don't live in immaculate houses, with healthy, home-cooked meals on the table every night.

How many worry that because they aren't as good or as perfect or as well presented as the other Mums they see at the shops or read about online, that they must not be very good at this mothering gig. That they are failing in some way. Through blogging I've come to appreciate that I'm not the perfect mother, and slowly I am starting to give myself a break. The comments and support that I've been shown by you people in my little community have meant the world to me.

I hope one day I can pay forward the love and support I've been shown on here to the Mum I met at the pool. It's the least I can do.

Have you ever connected with a stranger at the park or the pool? Have you regretted a lost opportunity to give someone support? 

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