They talk too much.

They talk so much.

-You shouldn’t go back to work just yet, your child needs you. Be a mum.

– You need to return to work to create a better future for your child.

They talk all about sleepless nights, lack of friends, time and money. They talk about mounts of washing, cleaning and cooking. Loss of freedom.

But, all of these things are normal and relate to life, not just parenthood.

We all have to cook and clean, with a child or not.

We all must miss out on social events due to work commitments, with a child or not.

What they forget to talk about are things more important, more challenging, raw and difficult.

Leaving your children with your chosen childcare to go to work. Its not always just the issue of finding childcare that matters most but watching the tears stream down your child’s face every time they are whisked off to a different family member, friend, childminder.

There cheeks glow red as they gush for a breath from emptying their lungs with cry’s for their mum.

They talk about finding the childcare but not the guilt of leaving the children. That gut wrenching feeling like you’ve just palmed your child off, your heart dropping and having to hold back the tears in order to meet society’s standards of being that super hero working mum.

Then you spend your days doing what? What the whole world must do, cooking cleaning and washing. Your days off are not spent with your child being a mum but spent being an adult looking after a house. You can’t moan though, right? You chose to bring this child into the world and therefor you have an obligation to raise that child with standards… What standards, who’s standards?

You’re frustrated, you’re rushed for time, every single day. Who gets the brunt of your frustration? Your child.

You’re so caught up with life that you don’t have time to step back and breathe.

You don’t have time to enjoy your children.

You have a routine to think about.

Well what if I told you that you’re the parent, the adult, you’re in charge.

What if I told you that pile of washing can wait?

What if now after you read this you stop what you’re doing, put the washing basket down, turn the oven off, shut the laptop. What if now you go into the fridge and take whatever you have, make a picnic and just leave the house.

The photo above this post was taken 85 weeks ago. I was studying full time, working full time, and raising a child single handed. How did I have time to do all of that, still train, cook, clean but decided that time with my child was the least important? Why did I allow society and my own brain allow this to happen, for what, a routine that now 85 weeks later means absolutely nothing?

In the photo we’re in the middle of a valley, in between hills overlooking waterfalls, wild horses and complete beauty. I remember it so clear. I was sat picking between lights and darks for the washing machine whilst my child was painting at the table, on his own. I put the clothes down, stood up, got us both dressed and got on a train with nothing but a picnic and some paper and pencils. We spent 6 hours exploring, drawing trees, and eating fruit.

I shown him the most beautiful waterfalls and hills around us. My favourite day, just the two of us. A little rain but a lot of sunshine. My mind felt clear, he smiled and i smiled, in that moment we were so happy. I cry just writing this, a day worth more than worry and panic. We were so content, me and him against the world. He got picked up that night at 7pm ready for me to go to work the next day but that’s all we needed. That one day to enjoy eachother and forget the stresses of life, forget the standards they throw at us. Little does he know that he is my every day reason to beat any standard set.

I’ll never forget this day, but you know what I have forgotten? What clothes I was washing in that damned machine.