There are days where motherhood feels like some kind of heroic epic — and then there are days like today, where I’m convinced the only epic thing about me is how many tissues I’ve used before 9am.

I’ve got the flu. Not the cute, sniffly kind where you can still function with a cup of tea and a blanket, I’m talking full-blown, body-aching, head-throbbing, “please just let me sleep for twelve years” kind of sick- for the past two weeks. And, naturally, it’s come at the worst possible time.

The baby is teething. Again. Which means I haven’t slept properly in days. The school holidays have just ended, which means everyone is off-rhythm, especially me. And I know, I know, it’s not ideal to complain — especially not when you’re a mother. There’s this unwritten rule that we should just get on with it. Be grateful. Power through.

But the truth is, I don’t want to be strong right now. I want to be five years old again, tucked into bed, with my own mom stroking my hair and whispering that everything’s going to be okay.

I want someone to make me toast.

The first day back at school was utter chaos. We’d fallen out of every routine possible over the holidays, and it showed. Big boy was all of a sudden too tired to get up, someone’s jersey had mysteriously shrunk (or they’d grown, either way, drama), and there I was, trying to force a naartjie into a lunchbox while coughing like I was auditioning for a Victorian tragedy.

The baby was screaming. Molars, I think. Or maybe just vibes. Either way, the house was loud, I was sweating through my pyjamas, and all big brother wanted was to watch TV, while slowly eating his bowl of porridge.

And still there I was packing the lunchboxes, pouring juice, and doing the final checks. Kissed scraped knees- from a school holiday park accident and tied shoelaces and made sure we didn’t forget the all important holiday homework book.

I paused for a second…and reminded myself, “you’ve got this momma”

I did it all while feeling like I could collapse at any second.

I’m not looking for applause. Honestly, what I really want is sleep. Or maybe just for someone to ask me, “Hey, are you okay?”

Before the hypocritical typers enter, let me place on record daddy is around, he just leaves earlier than us, so he preps what he can.

But here’s the wild part my kids? They still look at me like I’m magic. Even when I’m pale and puffy and short-tempered. Even when I burn the toast and cry quietly in the bathroom with little one standing behind me. Even when I’m clinging to my tea cup like it’s a lifeline.

They still see me as their safe place. Their superhero. Their Wonder woman.

And maybe that’s what keeps me going, this unshakeable love that lives in the small moments. A hand in mine. A sleepy “Love you, Mommy, you’re my best mommy (lol).” The way my baby snuggles into my neck, gums and all.

So yes, today I’m sick. I’m overwhelmed. I’m tired down to my bones. But I’m also showing up, imperfect, messy, but full of love.

And that’s enough. For them. And maybe, just maybe, it’s enough for me too.

tracy-lynn.ruiters@inl.co.za

Weekend Argus 

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