Why it is that I never sleep at the weekend I cannot fathom but following a hectic week and two sleepless nights I am shattered. I seem once again to have spent the weekend cooking and sorting out squabbles amongst the children but spending little quality time with them as I am so frazzled I can barely think. I look forward to Mondays when they return to school and I can get to my first yoga session of the week. I know it should not be like this, that my children are young for so short a time and that I should be enjoying the precious time I have with them now, that I may regret in the future the things we didn’t do, games not played, outings we missed but being on my own with them for most of the weekend while my supposed other half pursues his own hobbies is incredibly difficult.
The older two are at an age when they want their independence, to hang out with their friends or chill and watch TV or DVDs, the younger one who annoys them intensely, in part because she has not yet joined their teenage world and because of her illness which has demanded so much extra attention this week. She too is fighting for her independence, to be allowed to travel to school and clubs by herself, which I have allowed to some extent, but then asthma strikes again and I find myself hauling on the reins, holding on tightly, afraid to let her out my sight for fear something should happen while she is away from me and other adults who know how to deal with an attack. And so with each of them fighting to prove their entitlements the squabbles start.
And I am torn in two, between wanting to hold them close, keeping them as children and wanting to just let them go and get on with their own lives because I am too tired to deal with them. On good days when I have had a reasonable amount of sleep we have fun, a laugh, a giggle, engaging in silly dances or making up rude words to well-known songs, helping with homework or talking through problems they may have.
But then the demon insomnia strikes and I am holding the black dog at bay and merely getting through the day is an uphill battle. I want to lock myself away and do nothing but know that I cannot, for no matter how independent they may seem they still need their mother. So with the tiredness and accompanying guilt I strive to do my best, to smile for them, to show them that I am here no matter what.
One day in the not too distant future they will have made it out into the world to stand on their own two feet and all I can do is hope and pray that I am doing a good enough job; that when they eventually find their independence I can look back and see that it has all been fine, that I have not damaged or hurt them but helped them on their way.
Searching for the light. 