It Must Be Love

Did you see me yesterday?

I was the one driving in the pouring, sideways rain, who jumped out of the car at Phoebe's kinder brandishing a kinder bag and a one-year-old Mouse. I chivvied Jack and Phoebe through the child-proof gate, dropped Phoebs in her room with many kisses and hugs, and ran back out into the rain.

I was the one who drove around in circles with the other thousands of parental cars, trying to find a car park close enough to the school without needing an ark. In the end, I pulled up in the "kiss 'n' go" area, threw Mais under one arm, and chucked Jack at his teacher before running back through the deluge to my (increasingly soaked) car.

I was the one who spent the morning at my cleaning job, and then spent the afternoon cleaning my own house. Which included lots of hanging wet clothes on clothes horses inside, letting dogs outside into the lake back yard for wees, and then bringing wet dogs back inside to be rubbed down (again, and again, and again...), and stopping wet cats jumping onto dry beds. I seemed to spend a lot of time convincing the Mouse that the clothes drying inside did not make a good cubby, and sniffing around trying to find the source of the musty smell (turns out if was the entire place...).

I was the one who herbed back to school at pick-up time, with a baby whose nose increasingly resembled the skies above. Once again, I searched for a car park, and eventually parked about 100 kilometres away in a remote fishing village (or so it felt!). This being 3:14pm, I had precisely one minute to present my elegant self out the front of Jack's classroom...so I threw Jack's raincoat on Maisie, held an umbrella over the pram, and ran. That's right - that was me you saw yesterday afternoon, old brown Birkenstocks shuffling, rain coat open and flapping, lungs wheezing, hand clutching onto my pants to stop them from pooling around my ankles, running for dear life behind my pram up the road to Jack's school, in the pouring rain.

And as I ran, I thought, This is not what I signed up for. Where is the peaceful, clean nursery with a rocking chair in front of a window, with lemon-yellow sun streaming in while I gently rock my clean, calm baby? Where is the immaculate house with the freshly-baked (yet low-calorie) goodies cooling sweetly on the bench? Where are my casually-chic and clean clothes that cleverly hide my mummy tummy? Where are the harps and cellos playing softly in the background? Isn't that what motherhood is? Or are the Huggies ads deliberately misleading?????

Last night, had you peeked in my windows (and scared the bejeesus out of me in the process), you would have seen me cradling the Mouse. And walking with the Mouse. And pouring Panadol down the Mouse's throat. And convincing Archie that although Mummy still loved him very much, it was not time to play puppy-wrestling. And cradling the Mouse again. For you see, my littlest girl is quite sick with a cough and a cold, and all the running in and out of the rain yesterday had not helped much. So I have been awake since about 2 o'clock this morning. I bet you can just picture me now. Oh yes, I'm gaw-jus.

After ballet this morning, Christian took Jack and Phoebs out for the afternoon, and left the Mouse and I have some quiet time. She was so snotty and dribbly that I eventually put a bib on her, just to catch the persistent drizzle that came from her face. The poor little thing was having one of those days when she didn't know what she wanted - she wanted up, she wanted down, she wanted a drink, she pushed the cup away. After a while, I scooped her up, wrapped us both in a fleecy blanket, and sat on the couch to watch an old episode of Grey's Anatomy that I'd had taped for weeks.

Before I knew it, she'd positioned her ear on my chest, wrapped one hand into my skivvy, and was snoring. She slept like that for an hour and a half. And amongst the wet washing, the smelly wet dogs, the cats shedding fur on the beds, the toys all over the floor and the steady drip-drip-drip of the rain outside, I thought, THIS is what I signed up for. To lie on the couch on a rainy Saturday afternoon with my baby in my arms (albeit with dried snot on her face and in her hair, but we can't be picky, right?), and simply enjoy the cuddle. I think it was a good Grey's, although I spent most of the time watching my girl sleep. When she woke up, she stretched, wiped her nose and mouth on my top, and sang me a little ditty which may have been "Twinkle Twinkle". Or not.

And now she is in her pyjamas, eyes red-rimmed, nose running like a tap, woofing at the dogs (both ours, and the ones on the telly). While I am most definitely not one of the mothers on the Huggies commercial, living in a Huggies house with a Huggies smile on my dial, I'm pretty sure I can hear the swelling of the tear-jerking music coming from somewhere. Oh yes. Snot-stained, tear-smeared, mud-spattered, that's me. All so I can live the dream of being these three kids' mummy. It must be love.