When the bees sting…

Whenever I think about writing this post I always end up humming ‘Favourite Things’ from the Sound of Music. I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s a list. So I’m writing this if only to get it out of my head.

Here are some of the things that scare me:

I worry that life rather than getting easier, as it should as your children get older, will get harder. Small, bless him, is a healthy chap and loves his food so one of the few things I don’t have to worry about is his weight and how much he’s growing. However, because he doesn’t walk I worry about his weight and how much he’s growing. It gets harder to manhandle a 3 year old boy into the correct physio crawling position as his legs splay out over my arms and his head slips out of my hands. It gets harder to shloop him into the car without banging his head on the ceiling. The thought of getting him up stairs to bed, up two flights, well, I breathe in and I do it, but I cannot wait to move his bed downstairs. What will happen when I can no longer carry him? How much more can my body take? I’m constantly surprised by my body’s answer to this but there must, surely, be a limit?

I worry about how life will change when Small goes to school. First I have to find a school. Finding a school for Big was easy – we looked at 3, chose the one we thought she’d fit and we liked and were lucky enough to get it. With Small… there are so many more variables. There is only one SN school in town. It is a small school, with about 45 pupils spread over the 5-16 range. There is only one child in reception. And their needs are different to Smalls, they have learning difficulties, but they can all walk. They’re all set up to accommodate a pupil like Small, but sometimes I don’t want to trailblaze. There are other, better-equipped SN schools out of town but that will involve transport of 30 minutes plus, and how then does that affect the rest of our lives? How do we work? Get Big to school too?

I worry that I may never get back to work full time. Or worse, have to give up my job. I see other mums slowly regaining their careers as their children get older and… well, I don’t know. My work is important to me for many reasons. It gives me a huge sense of self, I don’t want to only be Big and Small’s Mum I want to be my own person too. But combining it with two children (one of which has additional needs) at school, with all those holidays to fill… What will happen when he starts school next year? It’s unspoken but I’m going to have to give up work to settle him in and good God what then? Me at home full time is an awful thing, I become crabby and irritable (as has been more than adequately shown on my two maternity leaves) as the four walls close in and I focus on the wiping and dusting as it’s all I’m able to control.

These are just some of the things Too Big to talk about. They are too far away, too subject to variables and out of my control, and most times I can squeeze the lid back on. Sometimes, around 3am in the morning, they crawl out again and leave me in a cold sweat.

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One thought on “When the bees sting…

  1. Pingback: When the bees stings | SWAN UK

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