In my long, 9 years being a mother, I’ve noticed emotions you rarely come across when you’re not a mum.
Or, rather, more extreme feelings of normal emotions. All the books will bang on and on about the intense love you feel for your own kid, which, pre-kids you think yeah, yeah, I’ve felt love, I know what it’s like and post-birth, you totally get where they’re coming from.
You also become acutely aware that you can experience this intense love, where you could quite happily maim or otherwise kill anyone who crosses your kid, at exactly the same time as you could quite happily leave your kid on the nature strip or send them to work in the mines of Siberia. Or happily maim or otherwise kill them.
It kinda does your head in, that you could have these two extremes at the same time … worse if you stop to ponder the phenomena.
And, after a long day of snot, screaming, kids getting peeved at you coz you laughed when they walked into a pole, you realise it’s the “silly” season (understatement of the last 2 millenia) and don’t have a Christmas list, you realise you’ve got far too much on this weekend, and the kids are banging on and on and on about food and boredom and running around in their undies, shooting at you very loudly because they are Battle Droids and not feeding the cats when asked about a bazillion times, you experience brand new feelings … emotions you can’t quite put a name on.
After several more moments of being shot at, yelled at, whinged at and not being able to find the kaluha (for the cake I’m making tomorrow, not to drink now … although … ) or vodka (not for drinking now … actually, yes, for drinking now)