‘My hands aren’t full. My heart is.’
I’ve lost count of the number of times someone’s said to me, ‘You’ve got your hands full,’ as they’ve watched me, in slight horror, juggle my three kids, often unsuccessfully. In the earlier days, I used to nod along in agreement. Now, I think to myself, ‘My hands aren’t full. My heart is.’ Because it really is. Even on the days where raising three kids, mostly on my own, feels overwhelming, I am so blooming glad to be a mother of three.
Life with three is always changing.
I’ve been a mother of three kids for almost four years now.
The early days and months – they were 0, 2 and 5 – were overwhelming and all consuming. Getting all three kids in the car was something I avoided at all costs. Now? They leap into the car and put on their own seatbelts so they can start bickering.
Bathtime felt SO intense, as I breastfed the baby on the toilet whilst making sure the other two didn’t drown one another. Now? The kids pretty much bath themselves (I literally thought this day would NEVER come) and we treat ourselves to a cat’s lick whenever we can’t be bothered – no guilt whatsoever. Bedtime, funnily enough, was actually easier back then.
The girls went to bed, mostly without question and the baby fell asleep on me or in his cot. Now? They have a whole host of stalling techniques between them, including my favourite, ‘That’s NOT my bedroom.’ I mean, are you effing kidding me?
But I know it’s really hard to remember, when things are tough going, that it’s just a passing phase.
We lean in when we should just lean back. And let it pass us by.
(If you’re a new mum of three, I promise it gets easier.)