Before becoming a mama-bird I had visions of long cuddles with a sweet curly haired child who spoke politely and thoughtfully. We would have hours of blissful moments reading together, making cookies and having long walks in the park. We would play tennis. We would learn French. What a blissful life we would lead.
Now what this mama-bird has come to realise is that a blissful moment comprises of watching my children NOT wipe snot on each other whilst I hide in the laundry, slurping impatiently on my scalding hot cup of tea.
Said tea is hotter than volcanic lava as it has been reheated 4 times in the microwave because baby-bird has already needed two baths, 3 changes of clothes, 2 bottles, one mix of pears and rhubarb and a milk-arrowroot biscuit. Toddler-bird is on her third bowl of weetbix and is demanding hummus and carrots (but the carrots must be cut in long pieces just like on TV mama, you know like on ‘Mastersheve’). All before 10am.
Hiding, taking refuge, Patiently standing in the laundry sipping tea is completely fine. I am not ‘one of those parents’. You know the ones that can’t even drink of cup of tea in the mornings. This mama-bird is completely in control. There is no fear to be smelt here.
Having said that, what this mama-bird is starting to realise is that bliss are the days when you don’t have to try and convince the lady at the bakery that the weird green substance on your shoulder (read: regurgitated broccoli) is the new black.
Bliss are the days where you haven’t felt obliged to provide an afternoon seminar dedicated to learning why it is not appropriate to feed cat food to baby-bird. EVEN if she does seem to like it.
Bliss are the days where you are not found topless, straight from the shower, caught mid-run by the postman at the front door, chasing toddler-bird down the hallway because she is armed with a handful of sultanas, talcum powder and a stapler.
Bliss are the days where toddler-bird’s invisible frenemy, Kevin (the dragon) does not magically jump out from behind the fridge and make toddler-bird squeal. EVERY 3 MINUTES
Bliss are the days where a lecture on social security is not required. Just in case you missed it, yesterday’s topic was learning the importance of not hiding mama-bird’s keys in the letterbox. I am sure Parliament House will release a statement soon.
Bliss are the days when you are able to go to the bathroom (alone) and not return to find toddler-bird showing baby-bird what snow is. Using 1 kilogram of uncooked rice.
Bliss are the days where you are able to answer your IPhone without it being covered in gravy or spit or really any non-Apple approved substance.
Bliss are the days where you don’t have to remind toddler-bird that the cat does not like when you chase him, let alone when you try teaching him to drink apple juice… through a straw. Please stop. Love mama-bird.
Sometimes though, bliss really is watching baby-bird play peek-a-boo, behind a clear water bottle.
Bliss really is when you catch toddler-bird telling baby-bird that she is glad papa-bird ‘bought’ her from Target.
Bliss really is when toddler-bird declares to her kindy class that ‘mama & papa are my best friends’
Bliss really is seeing two little birds building a strong relationship that will take them into the big world together one day.
Bliss really is, when all is quiet, everyone is asleep. You take a sip of your appropriately heated tea and realise that you cannot wait to see what sort of day tomorrow is.