So skip a few years, and arrival of Mojo. Home birth, reasonably relaxed house in general, Beau takes on Step-dad role & eldest spends time for 1 night a week at her Bio-dads parents with him. He has improved as a parent, now eldest can do everything for herself – but that’s another matter. Beau works full time and I take on the role of a million jobs all under one title ‘Mommy’.
I speak to Beau about a lot of things, obviously he can’t know everything that goes on, because half the time I am so scatty I forget to change slipper for shoes before the 8am school run (public transport)… But this weeks topics have been heavy, and often severe one way or another. He displays some unhappiness or discontent – Oh my. Must make sure my rock is safe, must fix. We have been bickering slightly more lately, due to sleep deprivation and conflicting schedules. Must fix rock.
I explain that it is okay to admit he is struggling at times, perhaps even healthy to admit that sometimes when Mojo is crying, eldest spills porridge on the carpet and he burnt his toast – It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. My pungent smell of guilt makes me light headed, when he returns from work and I ask him, take Mojo for an hour while I catch up on telly/read/cook/bash my face into a wall. When he walks out the door to work for a spilt second I feel a pang of jealousy deep in my core.
A funny thing happened, tears started pouring from my eyes, mine – not his. I’d created two large wet patched on my jumper, wet patches that were so large I knew it was well over due. The ducts had opened and the only way to close them was to cry it out. I realised that I was willing him to admit the thing that I myself, wasn’t saying.
He did say that he wants to improve in some areas, for example – Mojo crying at 2am, 3am, 4am, 5am has him nearing a breakdown, but not with frustration or anger, with hopelessness. He feels he is unable to soothe her effectively. It’s okay, It’s okay… Stay calm, and she will feed off the energy that you display. Stay calm. Stay Calm. CALM. Crying doesn’t bother me, I’m okay with crying, as long as it isn’t me. I can kiss a ‘poorly’ better, I can wipe away tears of frustration when eldest is struggling with her reading, I can listen intently when close friends breakdown and provide a shoulder and a tissue. I’m not a cryer, I’m the one people cry to. But not this time.
A breakthrough –
We talk, we relate, we laugh, I cry, he hugs and we are honest. I feel immediately better, and Beau knows that it really is okay to have a wobble. Because even as a parent of a 5 year old I’m far from an Alpha mom. I wing it. I’m going to keep winging it. Eventually I’ll soar.