So yesterday I had what I would call a FUCK YOU kind of a day.
It was horrendous.
I woke up at the crack of dawn and felt ready to conquer the day after catching up with some work before the little sound of baby steps and incessant screaming for cereal!
Within an hour, everything had gone totally tits up.
I’m not going to go in to the ins and outs of the minuscule to mountainous issues, but it was pretty obvious that the beautifully calm last day of the holidays that I had envisioned wasn’t happening.
When I picked up my diary to reflect at the end of the day (which was a struggle at best) – I couldn’t think of one thing that I had done well.
In fact my biggest achievement was saving my children from killing each other like an unpaid referee (which of course is a whopping achievement).
Waking up this morning with big puffy eyes and after a night of clutching the edge of the bed for dear life because my child channels his inner acrobat all night, I made a conscious decision to forgive myself for yesterday.
The boys’ got up happy with little sunshine beams from their faces and my little brother raced around for one last Goodbye before he jets off on his California adventure.
And tonight I will remember these moments.
But honestly I will also remind myself as I have done today that it’s okay to have these days.
It's okay to be sad - even when everyone else is happy.
I felt sheer dread leaving the house this morning. This is unusual, but I did.
This morning I had a heavy heart.
I didn’t feel excited about the freedom to clean or work or reclaim my sanity - I felt bereft.
Year 2 means the last year of Noah’s time at infant school and the first day of pre-school for my youngest baby.
And mixed in with this marked the day my little brother flies the nest and embarks on his adventure.
I was plagued with guilt that I wasn’t taking Flyn to his first proper day at pre-school (although his Gran was a great substitute).
I felt shitty that my super power yesterday was psycho-Mum rather than Super-Mum;
And I felt really, really guilty for feeling so heartbroken saying goodbye to my little brother.
Of course I’m happy for all 3 of them.
This is an exciting time, a new chapter and they are all embarking on their own little adventures (I think I’d choose the California one though) but my feelings are complex and influenced by our past.
These sad times have resided in me for many years and have influenced almost every other relationship in my life – including with my children.
My relationship with both of my siblings is certainly not traditional – if not just by the fact that there is almost 2 decades between me and my youngest, but it’s also much more than that.
It’s messy and beautiful and unique.
And we have all said a lot of Goodbye’s – many more than you would wish for in one life.
So this morning when I dropped Noah off and waved goodbye to Flyn – I did have a big sense of sadness and I know that this is very much rooted in historic stuff.
But I do also love the freedom the holidays bring.
I like not doing pleasantries in the morning and I like staying in our pj’s if we want.
Yesterday I would have sold a limb for a moment’s peace and when I was getting a late night call about my brothers’ drunken shenanigans at the weekend I was furious, but I wouldn’t swap any of it.
The Summer holidays gifted us all with such amazing time together and priceless moments for my boys.
Tomorrow is a new day.
I look forward to hearing all about the boys’ first days and knowing that my brother has landed and is soaking up the California sunshine.
And I too will create my own adventure – enjoying some space and time and preparing for my weekend course!