Both my children had a due date at the end of August. Neither of them waited that long but the eldest did hang until the early doors of August at least. At the time I remember thinking if she was to be a week late she’d be a September baby, she’d be the oldest in her year and we’d have an extra year together. My dear old Granny, and Nanny Pat for that matter, were very much in the camp of ‘oh good, I am glad for your sake’. Whatevs I thought.
As the time has gone on and I had a second baby precisely 11 months and 1 day after I would be lying if I said I didn’t see their point of view.
I mean wow two babies in such a short space of time is full on. There is zero time for yourself. To say I find some days hard is an understatement. The constant need to not just be near me but on me and the following you round a room screaming ‘mum mum’ is you know, fun.
Mr Tammy and I don’t have the luxury of grandparents or extended family to double up as childminders so we have one day a week together when the children go to nursery. Judge me at your leisure, but I am not apologetic. Mr Tammy works 6 days a week and long hours. From sun up until sun down, and during sun down I am on child duty, tending to their every need. So if Mr Tammy and I want some time together, or alone, to wade through life admin or go for an interrupted meal then it must happen between the hours of 9-5 on a Tuesday.
I treasure Tuesdays. I am ready for them when they come around. The chance to be just me without snotty fingers all over me is greatly appreciated.
So I kind of understand what the grandparents were harping on about. Perhaps August and July babies isn’t all bad.
Before you all write me off as the anti-parent who hates her kids. I don’t. Far from it.
Obviously I love my children, I don’t need to tell you that.
What is dawning on me, more and more each day is that my tiny 5lb 5 August baby will be heading off to school in a little over 12 months and our time together will be over. The days of having nothing to do and searching for a plan for the three of us to do and enjoy will be no more. Me and the boy will be a two-man band as my daughter and I say goodbye to a phase of my life that has been so utterly testing but so unbelievable special.
The thought of our days now being dictated to by her requirement to be in someone else’s care between the hours of 9-3 makes me feel a bit sick. I have no intention to home school her don’t get me wrong but the thought of this time of our life ending is so very sad. It is a time that we won’t get back, that we can’t re-live, that we will never have again. Sad. Very sad.
I have a slight safety net in that the boy will be with me. I won’t be left sobbing alone, but the following year his time will come. I will be seeing him head off in his uniform to gain yet more independence from his dear old mum who whinges about her current lack independence, daily.
I know it is a part of life, part of their growing and part of having children and there really is nothing I can do about it. I know this time will come and go and I will get over it but for now, I am watching the days slip past me ever quicker, mourning each one as they pass. Our days of freedom will be no more, our days where it is just me and my babies against the world. Our days where we are free to do as we please are numbered. It makes my insides hurt. I know, deep down, how lucky I am to have had this time and I know I have taken it for granted at times but that doesn’t make its cessation any easier.
So yes whilst at times the thought of 9-3 to myself sounds appealing, the reality of the situation, well it is sad and I can’t help but feel cheated out of a year with both my little August baby and July baby.
What about you? Do you have a summer baby? Do you feel cheated out of a year? Or do you have a September baby? Are you celebrating that extra year or cursing? I’d love to hear from you.