Yesterday, marked 12 years since my mum passed away.
As awful as it sounds, I didn’t even realise until about 8pm that day. I was just going about my business, living my life when I sat down with the calendar to input a few appointments and I saw the date. The first thing I felt was guilt. How dare I forget? Does that make me an awful daughter? An awful person?
12 years is such a long time.
She never got to meet my husband or see me get married. She never saw me get my first job or my first house. She never met my daughter or got the opportunity to babysit. I’m pretty sure she would have made an amazing Nanny. She actually wrote me a load of cards and letters to give to me once she had gone and in my 21st birthday card she asked if she was a Nanny yet.
She had me at 22 so I guess she presumed I would follow suit and start my family young. Which is pretty much what I did.
I think becoming a mum, without my own mother around is one of the hardest things I have ever done. I also think that since becoming a mum myself I am so much more reflective of my own childhood and my mum.
Motherhood is busy.
It’s the mental load that everyone keeps talking about at the moment. I’m always thinking of the next birthday I have to remember to buy a card for or the next thing I need to do for Isabelle at nursery (apparently I have to make a hat this week for World Book Day). I rarely have the empty brain space to dwell.
Life is tough.
Yet I am so incredibly lucky to have my husband by my side and my sweet daughter (who drives me crazy every single day) keeping me busy. It won’t be long until I am older than my mum ever was, which is just insane to comprehend. So until then, I’m just going to hug my family a little bit tighter and be thankful for every single day.