To my beautiful sons,
It’s Mother’s Day. I don’t care if you think it is a meaningless Hallmark occasion (which is highly doubtful anyway because you are only one and three years old respectively) but it is an important day for several reasons. For all intents and purposes all you really need to know is that this is the one day of the year in which the tables are turned and I am the one making all the loud, whiny demands, not you.
These are my demands:
I want you to go away and leave me alone for 15 minutes. I would prefer even 10 but I will settle for 5.
I want to urinate without you needing to be by my side the entire time because you “might get lonely”.
I want your brother to sleep-in later than 5am.
I want an entire day where I don’t have to clean up human faeces.
I want chocolate. I want to eat it without having to hide in the kitchen.
I want you to stop making loud comments about your penis in public.
I want you to stop sticking your grubby fingers in the butter and licking them every time I make you a sandwich.
I want you to stop saying “I miss you SO MUCH!” when I step out of the room for five minutes.
I want to take a shower on my own and not have to answer curious questions about my genitals.
I want you to put your undies on your bum when I ask you to. Not on your head. Not on your brother’s head. Not on the dog’s head.
I want to use the laptop without being badgered with indignant cries of “You HAVE to share! Sharing is FUN!”.
I want you to stop talking. Just. Stop. Talking.
I want you to sleep. Oh god how I want you both to sleep.
I want to protect you with all of the fierceness of a lion wrestling with a crocodile being chased by a shark.
I want you to keep telling me that you’ll be my best friend forever.
I want you to keep cooing “You are BOO-ti-ful, Mum” while you pat my hair.
I want you to keep crawling into my bed for morning cuddles.
I want you to stay my sweet, innocent babies forever.