Since I became a mother, everything is different. I rarely sleep through the night. And even more rarely longer than seven hours. I hear every cough from the next room, even in deep sleep. I don’t wear white T-shirts in public when my kids are around. I drink a lot more coffee. I have lost more and more femininity after each time I breastfeed. I know all about eczema. And I have personally „tried out“ all the viruses. Mostly several times. I know more about dogs, Lego figures, Peppa Pig or Harry Potter than I would like. I have been a chauffeur for soccer, basketball, tennis, kung fu, figure skating, ice hockey and piano. (Yep, I see it too, musically we have some real catching up to do.) I eat quite a bit without sharing. Secretly. I hide remotes (and can’t even find them afterwards). I do tons of laundry. Honestly. Tons of it. I have the dirtiest car imaginable. Although eating in it is strictly forbidden. I have to go to playgrounds. Yet I don’t like playgrounds. They would probably be more bearable with a picnic blanket and a bottle of Prosecco. But I have never tried it. I’m always late. I live in Switzerland and I’m late. That’s shameful. But I don’t wear a watch either. (Should anyone read this from IWC or Rolex: Easily changed!) I had to stop eating breakfast. Because, if I eat breakfast, we’ll be even later. I wear flat shoes almost exclusively. Heels suit me much better. But I can’t drive or run after my kids in them. The best time of the day is when the kids are in bed. And no matter how tired I am then, I still imagine I have to stay awake. After all, I’m the adult here. And I have to do adult things. So something with my phone. I go out less often. About 95% less often. And when I do go out, I’m tired by 12 o’clock. And when I do have time to go to a club, I feel like I’m from another planet. Because the 20-somethings are all hobnobbing in jeans and sneakers while I’m all dressed up for that one night out six months from now.
I think back to my student days, with a triple-digit budget, a 12-square-foot room and 8 a.m. lectures, and it feels like the most exciting time of my life.
Am I that old? Is it – like babies – just a phase? In 10 years, my children will start moving out, becoming independent. I’m getting closer to my freedom. But do I want it at all? Will I sleep longer then, wrap myself completely in white and … And what? Someday it will be time to repaint this picture. But I will do that tomorrow. Today I am what I am. Mother.
new-me.blog 