I LOVE writing, and reflecting on everything that happens around me.
I do not keep a diary, but I randomly write pieces that I keep in my computer.
Here and there, I share with the world what I call, “Pages from Mum’s Diary.” Here’s a piece, a torn page from Mum’s Diary, something I feel other mothers may relate to.
I always wanted to have a fourth one, or even a fifth, despite the trend being two these days. (I’ve never been a trendy one). I’ve always wanted that, but I was scared.
I was scared of dysfunction more than anything else. I thought: What if we lose control of the kids?
What if their grades start to go down because we’ve become too busy? What if Munya and I start fighting about everything because we’re overwhelmed? What if I lose control of just everything? What if, what if…
Those thoughts drove me crazy. And when I was pregnant I couldn’t stand to see a thing out of place. I wanted order, order, order.
Because, this baby was supposed to arrive into an orderly home and never disrupt anything. That way, everything wouldn’t fall apart.
Then she arrived. And, of course, fear and anxiety turned into love and patience.
Once again, there was that peace and calmness that comes with the arrival of a new one. We sat and watched baby, and formed and reformed bonds.
It was somewhat a smoother transition than I’d expected. It was not without glitches here and there, but it was good enough for us to continue with the same identity the family had already taken and given itself before the baby’s arrival.
I’m still worried about raising four kids, but I’m not worrying sitting in a corner. I’m worrying whilst doing, doing.
Doing this, trying that, just working towards something slowly but surely.
We eat dinner at 6:30pm and the boys have about two hours before they get into bed.
Today (last night) after dinner, I left the kitchen and went to prepare for gym.
Sarah had slept before dinner and so was just waking up. After giving Sarah some milk, I left for the gym.
I was out for about an hour (burnt some good 635 pure baby fat calories in 50 minutes).
When I got back home, I needed to take a shower, give Sarah some food, give Sarah a bath, clear the kitchen, do the dishes, broom the floors, do the bathrooms and then go to bed.
When I walked in, Munya was done feeding baby, giving her a bath, getting ready to put her to bed.
Back in the kitchen, courtesy of the boys, everything was cleared and all floors were broomed. All I had to do were my pots, and start the dishwasher.
I cannot even begin to share the pride I felt. Everyone had their own work to do and this was my part for the night.
All I could think of, whilst standing at the kitchen sink doing the pots was. . . we are NOT a dysfunctional family. We’re a great team, and that “teamness” is what will get us to our destination.
And Tino earlier this week walked into the kitchen whilst I was cooking, with his brothers following behind him and announced: “Mum, Mum, I finally got a name for Team Munochiveyi. We’re called Mr Bats:
Mr Bats – Munya, Rumbi, Bryn, Anesu, Takunda, Sarah.
I think I like our team name and I’m smiling my no-teeth smile as I finish typing this.
At least for today, I’m not worried about team Mr Bats. I’m just happy I’m one of theirs.