Tuesday, 22 February 2011

What They Don't Tell You.

A mother's life is undoubtedly a varied and full one.

I had no idea when I signed up for this gig that I'd be the only one in the family capable of putting a new toilet roll on the holder.

Little did I realise I'd be able to cure most ills with a kiss and a Wiggles bandaid.

I didn't realise there'd be days when the bus would be waiting for us at the gate, the work ute would be in the shop, the battery would be dead in the good car and we'd have to pile into a cattle truck to meet the school bus.

I didn't know my ability at putting badly bent teeth back into position without the need for bracing or orthodontic qualification.

I didn't realise how gladly I'd swap positions with any one of my children when they are hurt, physically or emotionally.

I had no idea that I'd be able to make a cake look like a racing car, or a caterpillar, or a castle, or even a slightly squashed echidna.

I would never have guessed my ability to teeter on the top rung of a double-bunk ladder and still execute perfect hospital bed corners whilst tucking in sheets.

Who'd have thought I could conjure up four appetising lunches every morning, whilst cooking bacon and eggs and listening to spelling words, the washing machine humming in the background while the kids stand in front of both the pantry and fridge, repeating "But Mum, there's nothing to eat".

Little did I know I'd be able to change a tyre on the side of the road, clad in tight skirt and heels, whilst keeping three small children from venturing onto the Bruce Highway.

I had never considered the possibility of four young children with stomach bugs and the amount of sheets that can be laundered between 11 pm and 3 am.

I didn't know I'd be able to keep a straight face while my youngest child explains to my mother in graphic detail the mating process of our border collies.

And I never would have thought that after running from daylight to dark to meet their every need, often with no time to eat, that I'd still need to lose three kilos.


  1. I'm sure most mums could identify with that! (And I only had one child.) There ought to be a medal for mothers. You sound like one of the best. It s wonderful when they get to be adult, knowing that because of - and despite - you, they turned out fine people.

  2. That's just beautiful! Tears in my eyes ... I don't even do half the stuff you do!

    You're incredible! I do know about washing vomited-on sheets in the middle of the night though.

    What a wonderful role model for your daughters and your sons, you are. Truly.

  3. how well written this post is - and how real, touching and funny at the same time! and while I don't have to ever meet a bus, there has been a time or two when I have been eying off the truck as a mode of transport, or wondering if I can tow start a vehicle by myself with the kids's help (I didn't).


  4. I had to laugh at the "But Mum there's nothing to eat" comment. I get that one all the time, ditto the toilet roll issue.

    Absolutely beautiful post Fiona

    Take care.

  5. What an absolutely beautifully written has managed to put a smile on my face after today's devastation.

  6. ...and you do it all again, over and over, every day, in one way or another ...because you're their MUM

  7. Beautiful! And true!!

    I have a toilet paper holder by the toilet that says, "Changing the toilet paper does not cause brain damage". They still don't change it.

  8. This is wonderful : )

    It's a reminder that, when we become mothers, some sort of magic wand is waved over us ... or something.

  9. Beautiful - and I totally agree to the last comment!!! It's a mystery!!

  10. Mother's are hero's, most just don't get told.

  11. How true. And maybe 1 more...

    Getting up at midnight to feed the starving.

    "Mummy my tummy is absolutely starving" (said in sobs very seriously)



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