Mummy Diaries

I cried my eyes out at the thought of losing J, my partner. God that sounds like I’m in a same-sex relationship but honestly boyfriend at the age of 34 sounds awful. It is the first time in months my children have been tender and caring towards me that I can remember. I mean we cuddle and kiss before bed and before school but these are obligatory hugs and expected cwtches (look it up its Welsh).

W, my youngest and most inconsiderate child, a typically borderline autistic automaton. She came up to me - kissed me gently several times, gave me a massive hug, and suggested we all watch a movie together. I was struck dumb by this sudden outpouring of heart. A, my more sensitive eldest girl, she was just lost seeing me like this; hiding in her room and crying herself. She said when I cry it makes her cry, not the most useful reaction to me being upset.

I very rarely cry in front of anyone, I tend to hold in the sound of it, cry in the shower, into a pillow or in the car. I worry it will cause my children to worry about me – not something I want them to do. My mother acted like we were friends and now I know more about my mother's love life than anyone should have to endure. Although, it seems I might have been getting it all wrong before, hiding my weakness and humanity from my baby girls. My being broken, in front of them brought out the best in them. Not that I want to sob in front of them on a regular basis but….it could be healthier than how we were previously; saving my tears up for the next traffic jam.

Plus, I recall vividly working out that my parents aren’t superheroes and have faults and foibles just like everyone else. I think it bonds us closer to the rest of the species, letting them know that we get overwhelmed too and have no other way of expressing it than these salty little droplets of ugly crying; making their way out of our faces. There is also a tremendous amount of snot but let’s put all of that under the “ugly” title.

My girl’s actions gave me hope that I have imparted some of my empathy and a distended heart muscle onto them, after all. Up until this incident I was convinced that I had turned my little darlings into screen-obsessed zombies who cannot string a sentence together unless it’s about Roblox or Minecraft. I shouldn’t have let them have my mum’s (nanny’s) old phone even without a sim card in it; they are constantly reaching for it or stressfully waiting until their next turn on it. So now I try to get to know more about how they are feeling, what they are thinking etc if only to stop their growing up pass me by.

A more emotionally honest life might heal us all?

But even my dog has emotional problems, of the trembling constantly barking variety where he patrols the house and garden day and night, wants to eat any delivery driver and sits on the stairs for hours to make sure they don’t come near. Maybe this is also a symptom of my emotional constipation around the living things in my house.

It doesn’t help that my partner is emotionally stunted, or just keeps stuff to himself that maybe should get some air time. I am no better, instead of bringing up my feelings, worries, concern I just keep quiet until they build up to a height where I can’t keep them in any more and then J does something douche-y and I crack. So now I am realising communication could be the key to a lot of this stuff. Do I have to be the one to take the first chatty step?