So, apparently tomorrow the kids go back to school, not that I'm counting. I barely took note of the 'back to school' date. Mmm, that might not be completly true. I may have already planned a celebratory breakfast; scrambled eggs on sour dough toast, with brown sauce and possibly a little glass of BucksFizz?! Maybe breakfast in bed. Maybe I'll sleep. Maybe I'll just sit in silence. Maybe a bath in the middle of the day. Maybe I will use my own laptop. Whoa! Maybe I'll go for a wee, not just to escape and scroll my phone. Maybe I'll text a friend back. Maybe I'll clean and tidy without feeling like I'm in a gameshow. A gameshow where the other team, a team of six little people (two of which are taller than me) are trying to stop any tidying and cleaning going on, by just continually adding to the mess, whilst of course eating all the food that ever existed, and leaving their wrappers on the floor.
I'm excited too for the kids. Maybe to clarify, I'm excited for the ones that are excited to go back. I'm pleased they get to see their friends. I'm pleased they will get a proper qualified teacher who has more patience and less frustration than I have (hopefully). I'm pleased they will get to see more faces, different ones to the only ones they've seen for a while. (I'm grateful that we've had faces to see this whole time). I'm pleased for the break in what has become the new norm for them. I can't believe I am going to say it, but I am looking forward to the school run. Yes I expect it will start to rain only at 8:30am and 3pm again, but I welcome it now. I expect in my eagerness, I will even be on time. I've changed, I know.
I'm also nervous for some of my kids; carrying a bit of their anxiety, their confusion, their concerns. Some of them have found contentment sitting at a screen, getting their work in when they're ready, not having to deal with other kids, or their teacher's expectations, or friendships or lack of. They've enjoyed going for a walk or a bike ride when it's all got a bit much. They've enjoyed the later mornings, and early finishes. I worry that they will suddenly starve if they're not grazing the snack drawer from sun up to sun down.
I wonder how us mums will feel tomorrow when we're back home. Home alone for some of us. Home with maybe one older teen or a little one, still on our hip. I wonder if we'll cry in all honesty; maybe a release from all we have been carrying, maybe taking a moment to breathe. Maybe some fear, for them, for us, about the virus, about change. Maybe sheer exhaustion. Maybe a concern of how to deal with people again, a new routine, or life opening up again but still so restricted. Some of us may have less capacity than we had before. Some people may need more grace, more Elijah moments of laying down and resting, than we used to need.
I wonder if the mum guilt will kick in. Did I do okay with the kids in lock down? Could I have done better? With the teaching? With home school? With my patience? With my time? With screen time? With my tone? Did I have any nice moments? Should I have made sour dough? Did my kids achieve anything? Did I appreciate the family time? Will they need therapy from a few months of being with me? Was I fun at all? Did I put them first? Will they be really behind? Did I open the Bible? Will they be ok? Will I?
Yesterday, on my way to Lou Fellingham's coffee morning, I had a 30 minute drive in peace and quiet. Lush! So with no one interupting some prayer time, I decided to tell God all, (or at least the ones I could remember) the things that were causing some mum guilt. Now with mum guilt, there's the stuff that you've actually done wrong which is good to say sorry for. Sorry to God and sorry to the little people you may have upset, annoyed, angered, misunderstood, accused, lost patience with, got frustrated with... the list can feel endless.
You know what else is endless... God's grace and forgiveness and mercy and goodness and kindness and strength. He rushes in with His unconditional love, when we say sorry to Him. Hurrah! Or Hallelujah!
Then there's the stuff the kids say or think you've done wrong, which either you haven't, or you have, but with jolly good reasons for doing them. Then there's the comparison with other mums. Nope. Dont go there. Not worth it. Doesn't help anyone.You are you.They are them. Be inspired yes, but don't be 'better than' or 'worse than'. Then there's the enemy of God who just hates you and lies to you, burdens you and tells you you're a failure no matter what you do. He reminds you where you're not cutting it, heaping on the shame.
During my quiet car journey, taking some time out to say sorry for these things, I was able to process which bit goes where. God knows where I'm not cutting it, that's the whole reason He sent Jesus to be cut in my place. That's where He can bring the boundless love in; the mercy and forgiveness in place of shame. That's where fresh hope for tomorrow comes in. It's really quite beautiful.
Back to tomorrow...where God's mercies are already waiting for us. Perhaps some mums might just feel sheer glee; a bit of headspace, a bit of physical space, a chance to think, to process, to walk alone, or with that one friend, to go for a run. Maybe a chance to dream, or be creative, or do the thing they haven't been able to do or do their work or send that email, or read a book or a blog maybe, or watch something other than Cbeebies. Or none of the above, of course. Maybe just to sit. Maybe to sleep, wake up, eat cake and sleep some more.
