When Spawn was a newborn and breastfeeding constantly and I was exhausted, I remember thinking: It will get easier.
When Spawn started walking and I had to move everything so that she could be safe, I remember thinking: It will get easier.
When Spawn went to school… I remember thinking: It will get easier.
When Spawn became a teen… I did not think it would get easier.
When Spawn went to college… I remember thinking: It will get easier.
When Spawn graduated… I remember thinking: It will get easier.
Here’s the lesson I learned: Mothering is hard. Period. Full stop.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all hard.
As y’all know, Spawn brings me immense joy.
But it’s a learning curve.
I’ve had to say to Spawn: I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
We’ve had to navigate and negotiate.
When she calls in distress I’ve learned that the first thing I say to her should be: Do you want to be hugged, helped or heard?
Most of the time, my job is to listen.
Which is hard for me because I always want to help.
But the fact is… for the most part, my days of problem-solving and problem-fixing are over.
Spawn is perfectly capable of solving her own problems.
My instincts are changing.
We’re still figuring it all out: How does she want to be mothered? How to mother.
Making it up as we go along.
Surrounded by love.
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Happy Christmas to you both! 🎄♥️