mom blogs
April 26, 2024

Oh dear, my son is growing up!

Finally he can put on his shoes alone. Finally he can hold the fork alone. Finally he goes alone to the bathroom and I do not have to change diapers anymore. Each stage is celebrated by me. Each stage means again new-old space. Interestingly, I'm in such a hurry. And that I am often so incredibly impatient. Do I seriously expect that my son Sam at the age of three and eleven months goes to the daycare alone, lubricates his lunch and washes his laundry? Where do I want to go so fast? And why do I sit next to him rolling his eyes when he wants to pack his kindergarten bag himself and I just think: "That works faster too!"

Sam sleeps with us every night. He needs a lot of closeness, wants to hold my hand or has to lie with his head in Marc's crook. If anything special happened (like: a dog was looking at him diagonally), then he's sleeping on me? with my nose in my hair.

Today he wakes up next to me for the first time and says, "Mom, it's too tight here!" And he has the most space in our bed. When I want to kiss him again and again while dressing, he complains: "Mom, leave that!" Usually I bring him to the day care center and when he says goodbye he comes to the door and then there are three hugs, four kisses and at the very end, when the door is almost closed, he tears them open and shouts: "One last one kiss! "

"Well, Lucie, you can never go fast enough, you got that now."

Today I bring him to the daycare and will not even be brought to the door. "See you later, Mama!" He waves at me and disappears. Oh God, that's too fast for me. Is he already so grown up? Why is my son in such a hurry? What about my cuddles? What about the four air kisses? I stand at the door as ordered and not picked up. "Well, Lucie, you can never go fast enough, you have that now," I think. My heart is burning and I would like to throw myself down and cry. I'll probably become one of those mothers secretly clinging to the school fence to catch another glimpse of the child. I will definitely get elected to all the special committees so that I can get a valid schoolyard right for life. I already hear Sam saying to his friends, "This is my mother, so embarrassed, just ignore her." I will wave through the bars of the fence and make a total monkey.

While I'm still at the door and imagine my future as "desperate mother", Sam comes running around the corner. He is actually looking for his friends, discovers me and jumps into my arms. "Cuddle one more time, Mom", he whispers in my ear, puts his arms around me and gives me a wet kiss on the mouth. Then he storms off again. Puhh, luckily he came back again. I needed cuddling more than he did.

Is not that absurd? I pay dearly for my so loved and longed for freedom. I never had that on the slip. Now comes the phase, where I have some time in the afternoon to work, to drill in my nose or go shopping ... but shit, where is my son? How is he? Can I possibly lure him home with my favorite movie and favorite food? Auwei. The mother is not only embarrassed, but unfortunately also schizophrenic. Can you do it better? Do you have any tips?

Text by Tanya Neufeldt, published on luciemarshall.com

Lucie Marshall, control freak with contradictions

The blog: "Lucie Marshall - How my boobs was food"

The blogger: Tanya Neufeldt alias Lucie Marshall writes about the madness between son, work, man and own claims. She likes being a mother but also a woman. As a control freak, she still feels that she is still in full control of her life with her child and is being taught something different every day. And while she eats her son's fish-stick remnants instead of supper, she wonders, "How the hell could that happen to me?"

We like that: Rarely has anyone written the complexity of modern maternity so funny and honest. Invigorating like a glass of aperol on ice.