...aaaannnnnnddddd I'm over it

Earlier today I reached my breaking point. It felt ugly and harsh and pointy and sharp. I wrote about it. I sent all the children to their rooms. I tried not to cry. Then I boxed it all up, tied a neat ribbon on top of it and put it away in the-cupboard-of-things-we-do-not-speak-of-that-exists-only-in-my-mind. I gathered the children together, I spoke to them about how I was feeling (in an age appropriate manner of course) and I set some new rules into place. I explained to them that I want them to treasure and value each other, that as brothers and sisters they could ask for no one more loyal in their corner, that they should be kind and generous and helpful to one another. I explained to them that we are all responsible for the kind of house we live in. I told them that I want to live in a happy, loving, uncluttered, tidy house. That I find it hard to cope when there is mess everywhere. I told them I loved them.

They all listened, nodding their heads in appropriate places, saying "yes mum" where they thought they should. They each hugged me one by one and the storm was over. I hate that I reached breaking point today. I hate that those words came spilling out of me. I hate that I can be pushed to breaking point but I love that my children can bring me back again.

Sometimes they frustrate me but they also inspire me, motivate me, teach me and make me strive to be a better person. They are the lights in my dark. They are my beauty in the ugliness. I love each of them for their intelligence, their humour, their uniqueness. They are each of them amazing in their own way.

I am not a perfect mother. I am not a perfect person. But the love I have for my children is perfect and it means I won't ever stop trying to be the best mum that I can be.