Your Working Mama

What you know about me at a year and a half:  I am mama, I like cuddles, I love books, I love nothing more than to cuddle and read books with you.  You know my smile, my laughter, my smell, the rings on my fingers, the lines etched beside my eyes, my not-so-in-tune singing.  You know I am there when you cry in the night and call for me in the morning.

You don’t know that I try to balance work with being your mama.  You don’t know that when I disappear into the room next to yours and tap at a keyboard, I am working.  You don’t understand why I can’t always put down the phone to pick you up when you run into the room with your arms outstretched and why your father has to carry you away instead.  (Or that it breaks my heart each and every time).  That on the three days each week where I work and your father is with you instead, I am filling pages on a screen with words.  You don’t know that, although it’s incredibly difficult to be a working mother, I am blessed with a job I love.  That I am, and have always been, in love with writing; with arranging and rearranging words on a page, with painting pictures with language, with trying to craft sentences like little paper planes that will go straight into the hearts of those who read them.  You won’t know that I write about Scotland for work but also in my spare time.  You won’t know why I am always jumping in and out of the car when we travel anywhere; why we can never go more than a few miles before I make your father pull over again so I can leap out of the car with my camera in hand.  You won’t know that I am trying hard to record our journey as you grow but I can’t always find the time to write these blog posts – there’s already so much I wish I’d put down here.

collage books

But one day you will know that books and poetry and writing and stories are air and water and food and light to me.  That I am forever chasing a flashing cursor around a screen and letters around a page; that my mind is usually whirring with ideas for blog posts and possible pieces of poetry.  And, one day I hope, I will write stories and poetry just for your little ears.  And when you go to sleep at night, the tales I tell you will circle overhead like planes on a mobile.

One day you’ll learn the chapters of my life, the different things that shape me, the things that make me who I am – both the spectacled person hunched over a computer and the mama with whom you sing and play and dance and read and cuddle.  One day you will understand the joy that writing and reading give me – but for now all you need to know is the joy that you bring.

 

2 Replies to “Your Working Mama”

  1. Gorgeous Emma. Isaac is very very lucky, and I admire you so much for the balance you achieve. One day he will read these words and feel very blessed xx

    1. Thank you, Kiran. Still trying to work at the balancing act! Xx

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