When I worked in vacation care, the parents (mostly mums) would come and drop their kiddos to us and I’d ask the little ones what they’d like to do that day. Painting? Colouring? Play dough, musical statues, popsicle stick craft, you name it, we could do it. It sounded like a hell of a lot of fun (and it was) and sometimes I felt a little sorry for the wistful mums who looked like they wanted to stay and play rather than go to work. I definitely felt sometimes I got the better deal that day, and I threw myself into making the holidays a magical time for those kids.
Nowadays when my husband kisses us goodbye and goes to work, I sometimes feel the same way that I did when I worked with other children. Often I’m snuggled up in bed with two tousle-haired poppets, ready to take the morning easy before maybe heading to the park, or playing play dough, or whatever else it is we’re going to do that day. And I feel grateful that I can share this special time with my babies before they go off to school and maybe I’m the mum dropping them off at vacation care.
Sure, I still have to scrub the toilet and referee fights and clean up spilled glitter and deal with a LOT of human poo every single day, so it’s not all fun and games. But being a stay-at-home mum with maybe a little flexible paid gig on the side was something I wanted very much, and worked very hard to achieve. And while my husband would swap me in a heartbeat, I’m not so sure I’d be willing to give it up! (Although he works as a high school teacher, so he gets plenty of holiday time to hang with us and occasionally think it would be an easier day at work than two full-on, mobile, loud, messy toddlers allllllllll day, lord knows I’ve thought that!). So I’m grateful I get this time. I’m grateful I’m a mum. I’m grateful I have a job that I love that I can do around my family, from home. I’m grateful to soak in these moments.
I could do without the poo, though.