How tough is motherhood?
I’m forced awake before 6am everyday for another round of this thing that is life. I’m always woken by screams after a night of perhaps five broken hours of sleep. I tend to the basic necessities of two small human beings – I feed, wash and clothe them. I express my love for them. Over the next couple of hours, I lift one or both of them continuously, I reason with the larger one using negotiating skills that would make my country proud. I settle disputes, I calm anger, I kiss away pain. I make decisions for them, I make choices about the things that matter most in their lives. At the time that most London office workers sit down at their desks for the day, I drink my second cup of cold but strong coffee. No-one ever says thank you.
This is motherhood. It is not the world’s hardest…
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