I don’t quite know where this one is heading as I start this. The decision to sit down and write something often pops in my head about 45 times a day. But there’s always something else, someone wanting. Don’t get me wrong, my children are getting far more patient at waiting for things these days. Beyond the NOW NOW NOW days. Apart from yesterday when it was imperative to my daughter that I sang the theme tune to ET at the top of my voice as we climbed up from the beach past a particularly rowdy group of yooooves!

Sometimes they can even be considerate.

That said, they don’t understand the need to do stuff just because ‘it helps’. I tried to explain to my son about blogging.

“What is it?”

“Well it’s kind of like a diary of what we do. Funny things that happen to us.”

“Can I read it?”

“Sure, read this.”

15 minutes later.

“What did you think?”

“It’s not very funny. No one farted or fell over”

“Keep reading my boy, keep reading…”

And in the end I did wonder – what am I doing? Why am I doing this?

Originally it was for me to brush off old skills and see if I could hack writing anymore since my brain turned to porridge 7 years ago the minute my son’s placenta was delivered.

It was an escape from the stresses of teaching. Or perhaps even a way to document times I’ve treasured. One of the craziest things about being a Mum is how quickly you forget things that at the time meant everything. Be it milestones, tantrums or even just mundane conversations about dinosaurs. My dad prints everything I’ve written and lovingly files it after it’s been published. Part of me wonders if he’s creating some kind of dossier against me, but mum assures me he’s just proud.

But since those early days of counting to three and hating Tuesdays and spiders, it’s become much more than that. Now I think it’s part of my sanity.

Writing settles me and allows me to process so many situations that, at the time are just awful. Embarrassing, toe curling moments of such horror that I often relay them with tears to my husband (who without exception always laughs at me, calls me a rude name -which he will repeat until I stop crying and laugh too).

The writing comes later, sometimes weeks or months will pass before I find the right words.

By then it’s a funny story, a situation we all survived, that everyone has made friends about. By the time the children are sleeping and I’m tucking them in – breathless because – dear GOD I don’t want to wake them – but also because I often think I’m not doing a good job. And that I might not deserve them.

When I do my daily ritual of tucking them all in long after everyone is fast asleep (basically nowadays it’s 15 minutes of cardio as it involves climbing 2 loft beds) I make plans in my head for the next day:

Be patient

Be kind

Be fun

Be calm

Enjoy them.

And at the time I really, really mean it.

But sometimes, I lose my way a bit.

That’s what I’ve felt just recently, like I’ve lost my way and I’m clawing at six different locked doors with a misshapen key trying to figure out where it fits.

No longer teacher – happy about that.

But sometimes working the teacher role, marking exams and assessments to help pay the bills.

Full time mum, part time patience.

Guilty that I’m no longer working in a permanent job and feeling the need to apologise to those that are.

A head full of dreams and half a cold cup of coffee away from making the to-do list in order to start achieving them. I made myself a promise yesterday that I would start making more time for things that matter to me and less time for worrying, procrastinating (on Facebook usually) and doing the age old trick of starting 10 jobs and completing none.

So more realistic goals for tomorrow are:

Don’t sweat the small stuff.

Drink at least one cup of tea hot.

Dress them.

Feed them.

Love them.

Talk to them.

And listen.

Losing your way can be really scary when you’re supposed to have all the answers as a Mum. But I reckon that’s when all the good stuff happens. And I have to remember that losing my way just over a year ago, led me to make the scariest and best decision of my life, to leave teaching and be with my family. And than was only the very beginning of the journey we’re about to embark on, even I’m not sure what direction that will take us all in. Rest assured, wherever we are going, we won’t have our shoes on, someone will need a wee 5 minutes in, my husband won’t have packed spare contact lenses (this will be my fault) and I will get lost along the way.