Every now and then I look through old photo’s and find myself spending hours getting lost in memories.
I do this with baby pictures of Francis quite a lot, mostly because the fear of him growing to fast can be slightly over whelming at times.
So sat at my messy desk, surrounded by empty coffee cups and the vision of a general creative cliche. I searched for videos and pictures.
I looked at them in disbelieve, the usual parent question of ‘where has the time gone’ hovered over my every glance.
Before long an hour had passed and my eyes strained from the computer screen.
Just as I was about to call it a day and get back to my ‘productive’ day I found a video with no title.
It turns out it was a home video but was taken from a natural point of view.
There were no edits or pre thought out gimmicks, my hair was a massive nest of waves and my partner was laughing at my terrible jokes. Francis was a tiny little baby cooing in his swing chair, his tiny legs kicking out in excitement.
I suddenly remembered that apartment and how it smelt, I remembered how much I disliked the tartan sofa that was so small I could hardly fit my post pregnant bottom on it. I paused the video on my face, I looked so happy and content my laughter lines on full show. I looked so different. I looked so relaxed.
The sound of my laughter haunted me after watching that video I didn’t recognise myself.
I couldn’t resist a massive cry fest at this point. It was needed so I just let it happen hoping the neighbors didn’t hear and wonder why I was doing a terrible impression of an endangered animal.
Obviously this was spurred on partly by hormones charging through my body like crazed mini vikings, doing everything they can to make any mundane task an absolute drama.
But there was more to this than just hormones causing my melancholy. I was sad at how far away I am from that happy de-stressed normal woman. I was sad that my partner doesn’t look at me like he did in that video. His eyes don’t focus on my face, I don’t catch him watching me or listening to my dull stories.
It is so easy to blame my partner or blame myself at this point or even blame motherhood.
But it is none of these things. It is life.
And I was getting stuck in the race, the speedy long not stopping for air race.
I didn’t find things funny any more not because my humor had been pulled down along with my post pregnant boobs, but because I didn’t have time for humor or any fun for that matter unless of course it was in the form of making play doh cats.
I had stopped being the person I always was before and allowed myself to let pressure get on top of me which had shifted my energy and crushed my free spirit.
That evening I left the dishes regardless of how much my mind was convincing me to just quickly do them. I left the pile of washing that resembled a fabric mountain. I even left Francis’s toys scattered around in the living room, emails were abandoned and my mind was suddenly in the moment.
My only witness to this epiphany was my partner, who in shock asked if I was feeling sick. I smiled and in my head the snapshot of my happy face on film mirrored this moment.
We talked for hours and I apoligised for getting caught up. I said sorry for not laughing at his constant jokes and for forgetting to be human.
I vowed to stop imitating a mechanical mummy and start living, loving and enjoying life again.
I promised that my frown lines wouldn’t deepen any time soon and instead my smile lines would beat them to it.
The next morning he took the day off, a spontaneous act regaining my hope that team work will be making a come back in to Ross-Tiernan household.
We spent the day as a family, eating out in our favorite place. Drinking coffee on an empty green whilst our big boy took a well timed nap so mummy and daddy could hold hands for a while.
I think we found ourselves again.
Outfit of the day – H&M navy dress picked up from a charity shop (you know I can’t resist a bargain)
Happy weekend lovely people :)
Today we have been mostly listening to – Wolf Alice – my love is cool.