Written for the Friday Club Carnival.
Whist. There is a thing. What 5 things would I like my children to know about me? I can think of lots of things I would prefer them NOT to know about me, though I can see there will be a time when I’ll have to tell them those things. And I can think of things I would tell them but I don’t really want to load the baggage on them that those things might bring them if I did. I’d much prefer them to grow up without baggage. I’m not sure there is anything I can tell them that doesn’t bring baggage though, because being at home with them all the time, permanently attached by virtue of a lifestyle, my whole life is bound up to their existence. There is not really a me outside of them. My greatest fear is that if they all died, on top of the terrible grief, there would simply be nothing left of me worth saving. Now that’s baggage if ever there was some. And it is something I’m going to have to work on, as they’ll potentially all have left home in 10-12 years.
Of course, I’ve re-read what follows now and I’m not sure it is about me at all. It is more about them, who I am through them. I don’t know if that is good, or bad 🙄
To my girls,
1. I’d like you to know I was all too aware of my faults even when I didn’t do enough to rectify them. I’d like you to know that even though I need my space and feel like I spend a lot of time pushing you away, I love the chatter and noise and mess of the house and wouldn’t change it. I know I should learn to be more engaged all the time but I don’t have it in me. I’m sorry.
2. I’d like you to know that you are a joy to me, exactly how you are, and that I wouldn’t change you. I worry that you think I’m critical or exacting but I only ever want to open your mind to expanding and growing, not changing. I’d like you to know that if I pride myself in anything, it is not the business or our house or how I look or how I write – it is simply you. I measure myself entirely in how happy and how utterly yourselves you are. That I don’t care how successful you are, or clever, or thin or beautiful or academically well endowed; I simply light up inside when I see you being yourselves and the confidence and contentment you exude.
3. I’d like you to know, one day, that it was hard to be me; short, fat, boring, unoriginal, easily shaken, often depressed, un-confident, rubbish at small talk, me. I’d like you to know that I wanted more for you than the environments that made me like that. I’d like you to know that I always acknowledged the parts of your nature which reflected any of those things but I worked very hard nurturing your strengths and giving you tools to overcome those parts of any of us which can make some moments in life hard. I hope I did okay.
4. I’d like you to know that I don’t think I did a very good job of home educating you,certainly not the job that I intended to do, but that was okay, because you didn’t need it really. I’d like you to know that often when I didn’t do things with you it was because I was busy and distracted but often it was because I was sitting back and listening and marvelling at the sounds of you growing all around me.
5. Finally, I hope one day you will forgive me for how selfish I was. I know I was. I know I wanted one more thing when I already had everything I needed. I know it was stupid, I know it was wrong. I hope you’ll forgive me for all the pain that caused you and all the loss and sadness you suffered because of that. I hope one day you know that nothing I ever did was your fault but you were the reason I carried on afterwards. You were the purpose for life beyond that point and I’m grateful. It was the existence of you that raised me from the lowest and darkest moments, twice, and meant I carried on living. That you, and Daddy, are all of the reasons I am the good bits of who I am.
6. (Oops) Oh. And yes, I’m messy. I tell you off about being messy all the time and my room is worse than yours. This is one of the great double bluffs of motherhood. You’ll get to do it too one day. For now though, yes, you do have to tidy your room!
I loved this post.
I admire your honesty, and your girls will too x
(And don’t worry, you’re not the only messy one… you should see my room!! x)
*laughing*
And mine – why do our rooms get used as the dumping area for all the stuff that no one else knows where it should be?
I also admire your honesty. It is a very brave thing to put feelings like this out there. I’m not that brave: I’d rather other people didn’t know…….
Ah well, been doing it a long time now!
oh Merry, you’re not boring, you couldn’t be boring if you tried! oh and no. 1? ME TOO!
I really am 😀
:0)
😛 🙂
I love this, and I agree with the previous comments. You are a brilliant writer, you make me laugh, you make me cry but you are never boring! And I also have a bedroom which is far messier than my kids’ rooms (because I also dump everything there that doesn’t have a place anywhere else) and I still make them tidy theirs. Maybe I hope they will grow up to be tidier than their parents…
Hannah, I think that our best hope for satisfaction in parenting, is to assume we will not cure messiness 😀
What a wonderful post, I wish I could write so beautifully to my children. x
But you do 🙂
“short, fat, boring, unoriginal, easily shaken, often depressed, un-confident, rubbish at small talk, ”
Hang on. I know we’ve never met for real, but who is this you’re describing? Doesn’t sound like the Merry I’ve been interacting with online up til now….
Oh, I really am. I’m not someone who would be chosen to accompany anyone for a silly, fun night out. I’ve hated knowing, this last week, that my sheer lack of social competence has actually stopped my children having an opportunity. I’m just no fun to be with – I’m kind thoughtful and interesting at times (I hope), but not fun 🙂
Such a touching and honest post. I do hope your girls will get to read it one day. xx
I mostly write the blog now in the hope that one day, in the distance, they will know how much I loved them.
Really touching and very poignant post
Looking forward to having time to read yours today 🙂
The girls may potentially have left in 12 years but equally there may potentially be grandchildren for them to start bringing back!
Yes, I worry rather a lot that I’ll just lurch from living through my children to living through theirs. And if they have the number of kids I have had, I’ll have 20! Thank goodness for that toyshop I own!
Just popped across as I’ve just added my link up. WOW, what a truly brilliant post – I love it. Such an honest and touching list. You have a great way with words. Glad to have found you. Have signed up on google friend connect to follow you x
Thank you, will visit you today 🙂
First time visitor and I loved this post esp the one about being selfish and how you are good because of them and their dad. Lovely, lovely post. x
🙂
and no 7 would be that maths isn’t all that important? 😉
No, I fear I have come to the conclusion that maths is important. I shall teach them a new motto…
“If at maths you don’t succeed… marry someone like your daddy who can make Excel perform like a troop of monkeys in a banana factory!”
Hi, this was so beautifully written. Your so good at saying difficult things and probably touched on alot emotions many of us failed to put in our own posts for not quite finding the words. However from reading other parts of your blog – I bet your too hard on you, you sound like you do an amazing job esp after the blows you have been dealt. x
What a moving honest post. I too worry about what would happen to me, if I lost all my children- I’m sure I’d just implode.
Such a beautifully written and honest post. I really hope we get to meet soon Merry – I’m a bit useless at small talk but I’m pretty sure we would not stop talking!
So do I. I am really hoping I’ll get to Cybermummy. Maybe then?