Stop Bursting my Bubble!

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“It doesn’t actually get any easier, you know.”

“Wait till they’re teenagers.”

“It gets harder/crazier/more expensive the older they get.”

Stop!  No more!  It’s too hard.  Stop bursting my bubble.  I am in a good place at the moment.  There’s sleep.  There’s wine.  The odd night out or two.  I’ve had a few hangovers recently.  The words “lie-on” are once again part of my vocabulary.  I now eat dinner at the conventional time of in the middle of the day.  Not like yesteryear when I was forced out of my bed at dawn and dined at 11am.  There are whole cups of coffee made and finished these days.

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Stop bursting my bubble.  I am in a good place at the moment.  They’ve all got teeth now. Bye bye horrendously painful teething.  They all eat proper food.  Bye bye tediously messy and frustrating solid food stage. Most of them can put on their own clothes.  The odd underpants goes on horribly wrong and shoes are often put on the wrong feet but that’s okay.  I am still brushing four sets of teeth but I’m grand with that too.  It’s all in the name of reducing future dental bills.  Three quarters of them can do up their own seat belts in the car.  They can all help themselves to snacks.  It’s all coming good.

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So please.  Stop bursting my bubble.  I am in a good place at the moment.  There’s sports.  Swimming and football.  Trips to the library.  Three out of four of them are old enough to sit still at the cinema.  The buggy is all but an accessory now.  I am months away from being nappy free.  We might even be able to pack away the cot after our summer holiday where he will probably need to sleep in a bed.  Telling them “no” is met with reasonable acceptance.  This year, three of them will be in school.

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So please.  Stop bursting my bubble.  Let me enjoy where I am at the moment.   It’s still messy.  Very definitely louder than I would like.  Bath times drain any last drop of energy I may have in my reserve tank. I am demented buying clothes for them all the time.  Hand me downs don’t work when knees, elbows and backsides are ripped out.   Shoes are definitely not made like they once were.   Their hobbies and interests are expensive and can be short lived phases. I have accepted that the inside of my house will probably always look like the aftermath of a rave until they are of an age to move out.  My grocery bill scares me.  Driving a tank for a car is another financial drain.   

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But it’s good.  It’s better.  Dare I say I am enjoying it at long last?  Sometimes.  Maybe not often.  But I realise I prefer the older age to the toddler one.  And there are no more toddlers in our house.   It’s all onwards and upwards from here on out and I am happy with that.

I am very happy with that.

So please.  At the risk of repeating myself.  Stop bursting my bubble and let me enjoy being in this manageable stage.  *I will deal with whatever the pre-teen and the full on, riddled with hormones teenage stage throws at me.

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*I hope.  But I know where to find you if I need some advice.  You can even say I told you so.  And I will try not to snap your head off.  Much love. xx