Conflicted

is how many mothers feel at many times of their lives.

As a working single mother, I often wonder whether the choice I made to go back to work was the right one, or whether I should have stayed at home with the kids.

When I was a stay at home mum, I often wondered if I was doing the kids a disservice by denying them the social opportunities they would have had had they attended the local daycare.

It doesn't matter what we do, we will always question whether or not it is the right thing to do.

Human nature.

Mummy nature.

Conflicted. Miss 4 is going off her nut because she wants something, but hasn't said please. I remain stoic and calm repeating "I beg your pardon?" which appears to fan the flames of the mini chick fire even more. Now this could be avoided if I just gave her what she wanted, and she would settle down, and that would be the easy solution. But would it? Or would I be creating a rod for my own back in giving in to her wants? I think the latter. I did, however, strongly consider the former the other night when she chose the bath as the location in which she went off her nut. It was a far from pleasant experience, and would have been even if it had not have occurred in the bath, but just think, every little physical outburst a 4 year old delivers whilst mid-tant, when in the bath creates splashes. These splashes have the ability to enter the eyes of said 4 year old who is mid-tant, thus enraging said 4 year old to the point that you think the water may just boil for the fire within the child.

And yes. I stayed firm. And yes. She said please.

20 minutes later.

I win. Again. I will always win. What she doesn't understand is that I, too, was a middle child. I have played this game a lot longer than she has. I know the tricks. And I know the rules. Every now and then I hide and shudder and think that she may just be better at it than me, and then I go out there, standing firm and tall, and do not give in. Ever.

But I digress. Conflicted.

Take today. I had the day off, no children, as they were in daycare and at the school holiday program. So the day to get things done. I used it well - I was able to take several boxes and a few bags down to the local op shop and clear out some more of the clutter that seems to gather in this house, much like seagulls around a chip. So much clutter.

But I was conflicted. Because by mid afternoon I was missing my babies. It feels odd to be at home and have them not there. And so I have a coffee or three. And that takes a little time. And I try to keep pottering but find myself just going from room to room taking the same thing and putting it on different surfaces repeatedly.

And so I give in to myself and go and get the kids early. And as soon as I pick them up they don't stop talking. At all. And it continues. Master 3 has a habit of commentating his life and everything he sees. "Mum. Mum. Muuuuum. Taxi. Oooooooh look at THAT tree. It has brown and green and red and orange. Mum? What's that? What's that man doing? That boy isn't wearing a helmet he's going to fall off and hurt himself. Mum? You know I got a scratch today at school. And I told the teacher. And I cried. But I was ok. Taxi!" And it is like that pretty well from as soon as he opens his eyes until he closes them at night.

And with the girls, well, let's just say by the time they are teenagers I may need to self-medicate. Drama. Personified.

And everything is the end of the world.

And so, after having picked them all up early, after a few hours I was asking myself whether that really was the wise thing to do. And everyone was sitting drawing happily (I use that term loosely - factoring in "I had that pencil first...muuuuuuum.... she snatched that pencil off me...." "No I didn't" "Yes you did" "No I didn't!! Mum I didn't snatch it she didn't even HAVE it!" "But muuuuum I only put it down for a second!").

So I did the countdown. Five more minutes and it's bedtime. "What can I draw?" "What about the animals you saw at the zoo?"

Insert. Drama. Miss. 5. "But, but, but, I can't REMEMBER which animals I saw at the zoo" (read with that little frog in the throat effect that occurs when one is about to burst into inconsolable sobs for no apparent reason).

"Elephant, lion, kangaroo, frog."

"There are no FROGS at the zoo."

"I beg your pardon miss, but there are."

Fiery stare. Goes back to drawing.

"One more minute guys, you'd better make it count....."

And up pipes Miss 4. "One, two, three, four....."

Give. Me. Strength.