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The past two years have been all about adjusting to motherhood and finding my way through it via craft. The out pouring of this came in the form of my blog Aunty Mum. Now I'm finally finding my feet, the children are growing, I'm getting some independence and my interests are morphing . . . into cooking. Join me in exploring creativity in many forms, food, fabric, frowns and laughter.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Rainy Days

I'm preparing for bed and looking back on today realising that I have a fear of rainy days and I'm not sure why. I have this notion that the children need more of my attention when it's raining and I can't direct them outdoors. Strangely enough, they're almost better to be around when it's raining. We got out a giant puzzle and put that together, and swimming down in the pool where I took the camera to get some underwater video of the two water babies (Kayley and Rogan). And . . . most amazingly . . . they played pretty well today. I'm thinking the mandatory family nap (including myself) had something to do with how cruisy the afternoon was.

I had to stop today and realise that I've had the children four months now and there's been not one day since Boxing Day that I haven't had at least one of them around.
Up until recently that's been a huge weight on my shoulders and something I just had a hard time coping with. However, I was chatting on the phone with our social worker the other day and she talked about how hard it is to raise someone else's children. I'd never thought of it like that, which is strange in itself. I realise now I've had unreaslitic expectations of myself. I love these three children to pieces but I've been expecting to have the same unbreakable bond that a natural mother has, or even an adoptive mother. That's just not our situation. While they're in my care until the day they choose to leave home, we still have their biological parents as a huge part of our lives; we still have all the trauma, hurt, disappointment, damage that they've been through to live with, deal with and process all while getting on with just living. That's hard. And it's okay to admit that it's hard. Understanding that is a huge relief and it makes it okay for me to have melt downs, and tears from time to time. It's okay for me to be frustrated and angry. Most of all, it's okay for me to be angry with their mum and their dad. It doesn't mean that I don't love them, and that they're not the most important thing in the world to me, and that I won't do everything in my power for them to have as normal life as possible. I guess it just means I'm human and that's perfectly acceptable. I know everyone else sees me as merely human, but it's come as a surprise to me ;).

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