Making plans is futile
Making plans is futile
Just ask my mum friends.
Today was supposed to be a good day. Today I was supposed to meet up with two dear friends to get moving on a super exciting project we’re all working on together. Today I was going to get myself dressed in adult clothes and walk out the door with a pep in my step.
But alas, my children had other ideas. They always do.
It kicked off around 2am. Billie, our youngest (and feistiest) decided that today was a good day to have insomnia. This isn’t unusual, unfortunately, as it seems she has entered that delightful two-year regression-y stage where their little brains are developing at such an incredible pace that they simply need to practise all their new skills between midnight and dawn. But beyond that, her diva-esque personality also means she has no qualms about treating me like the slave I am.
While ordinarily we are able to break through the insomnia-like behaviour and get her back to sleep fairly promptly—today our efforts were wasted. Today I felt like a real-life jack-in-the-box, barely placing my heavy head on my pillow before having to pop up and trudge down the hallway for the umpteenth time. Cuddles didn’t work. Taking away her favourite toy didn’t work. Speaking to her sternly didn’t work. Crying into my husband’s shoulder at 4am desperate for him to try didn’t work.
While we managed to cobble together around 30 minutes of sleep come 5am… we were soon up and ready to take on the day just before 6. Wonderful.
Thankfully I was able to send her off to daycare with a suitcase packed in the hopes someone would offer to take her off my hands for a night or two (unlikely)—but to add another layer of joy, Ziggy, our eldest, has been battling a temperature for the last 48 hours.
Still, despite feeling a little off, he is actually fairly low maintenance when unwell and is usually satisfied snuggling up on the couch with free reign of the TV. But just before I was about to leave the house at lunchtime, he decided it would be the perfect moment to throw up. Everywhere.
So now, as I sit at my laptop amidst the mountains of couch covers that need washing and desperate to find a moment to squeeze in a snooze—it’s fair to say I’m feeling a little wobbly. My resilience has plummeted to an all time low and while I can placate myself with all the ‘it’s just a phase’ rhetoric we’re pummelled with daily—just once it would be nice to make plans and actually see them through.
Don’t you agree?
Ahhh sending love, I feel like my children are teaching me how to be with disappointment for these very reasons. Plans are never plans anymore, they are more like hopes. It’s helped me remove expectation from my life but also it’s a lot to acknowledge. Hope your little ones are ok and that your Mama heart isn’t too bruised xxx
So many relatable tidbits right there. From the relentless piles of gastro washing, the unreasonable 2 year old night wakes. You get that feeling of being so tired that you literally need for coffee to go straight into your eyeballs to keep them from closing mid function...