A Call to Being

It’s all in how you own it, what you call it, how you spin the pieces of your life around and keep them together in your head.

Yesterday was not a good day. First day back at school, I collected her as usual. The cause of the following tantrums (those of you that know Little Person could scarcely dream it possible, but it’s true) were, in order: strawberries falling out the box when I had to make a slight evasive manoeuvre (this was only a little upset rather than a full blown tantrum but still included a “Mummy! You did it! You made it wrong!”); two dogs we were watching playing with a ball were taken back to the car by their owner and left (“Mummy, I like dogs! You don’t!”); taking shoes off; and taking coat off. By which point she was hiding under the side table she couldn’t actually fit under.

And I still needed to put fresh sheets on her bed and make her dinner.

But I sat her on her cool-off step (“Mummy! I’m not going to sit there, I’m going to sit here!”) and found a cool-off spot for myself. And counted my blessings. And then she followed me up the stairs to change her linen, and kept me company while I made her dinner. Because she’d had a long day, and she was tired too.

And sometimes you just want to be able to be who you are, and not be the list of jobs you have to do. That goes for Big People and Little People.

Because even in the difficulty of yesterday, I could understand what an angry little girl was telling me, from her words and not just her actions. And for once I didn’t have Bad Mother music playing in my head.

Because I know, just by being me, I’m being the mother Little Person needs.

Creative, strong and determined, with steely fingernails for hanging on.  That’s me.

Who are you?

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