And the award for the worst mum job goes to…

SassyB - 13 Jul 17

I think it’s fair to say there are plenty of elements of being a mum that I don’t really enjoy. We could probably all admit to having at least one job we’d rather not do. I mean, dirty nappies…  no one ever truly thinks: “Yay! Wiping up poo from another humans bum hole! My fave!” when they catch a whiff of their little ones nether regions. But there’s one job that I dislike above all of the others – and that’s packing old clothes away.

I hate when the time comes to admit that having a bit of belly poking out from under a t-shirt is not a strong look for my little boy. I try desperately to cling on as long as possible to each item of clothing in the previous age range and eek out every second of wear. Not because I’m tight (well, maybe a little. Kids can be costly!) But mostly because every time I fold up an item of clothing for the last time, and add it to the ever-increasing pile in the storage box in the corner of his room, a little piece of my heart breaks off because I know I’ll never get that time back again.

Ironically, the early days of having a baby was probably one of those elements I least enjoyed. I much prefer this period in time when he’s starting to develop his little personality, gets up to mischief constantly and laughs uncontrollable belly laughs with his big sister. He gives me a story to tell every single day. But for some reason boxing up the too-small clothes to make way for the next size up always ends in tears. Because as menial as the job is, it results in me feeling the same way every time: I wish I’d never wished that time away.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. It seemed the first few months of being mum was just a period of time waiting for something to happen; trying to fill my day and get out of the house to stop from losing my mind. Now, when I don’t have those long days to spend with him or time to sit and wait for him to do something new, the milestones are coming thick and fast. I’m certain one day I’ll leave for work with a one year old and come home to a fully-grown man. I love watching him grow and learn but when I have a tiny pair of socks in my hands I wish I could make more of the time we have now, stretch it out for just a few more moments a day and keep him as my baby for a little longer.

It’s funny how being a parent can alter your mental state to a point that something so simple, so mundane, can take on a level of significance that surprises even you; such a small task can trigger such a huge range of emotions. Guilt, because that really just goes hand in hand with being a mum. Sorrow, and a little bit of fear. But also excitement for what’s to come, happiness that he’s thriving and growing, and pride that I’ve created an actual human who’s kind of alright to be around. I tell you, tidying away clothes is an emotional roller coaster.

There are plenty of other rubbish mum and dad jobs that I’d take on permanently without evoking such a strong reaction; jabs, for one. They’re no fun for anyone. Cleaning milky sick out of the sofa is another. Cutting nails while the baby is awake… I’d do them all with a happy heart if it meant I could just have a bit more time in the 12-18 month age range.

SassyB

Mum to one and step-mum to another, working and living in the Midlands. I used to write about other people, now I'm trying my hand at writing about myself. Pretty much only had a baby so I could dress someone up in a costume at least once a week...

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