Welcome to motherhood, where personal space goes to die.
I’m just sitting on the couch right now, drinking my coffee and trying to relax for a bit. The laundry has already been collected, living room cleaned and kids have had breakfast. I’ve put up with countless hours of mixed up Christmas carols and nursery rhymes. I even managed to not freak out when my child asked me thirty times for cereal that he then decided not to eat immediately. I mean seriously, why? Why wake me up insisting that you have cereal right this very second and then take two hours to finish it?!
Anyhow, onto the whole personal space portion of this post. My day began with my oldest crawling up on top of me (repeatedly demanding cereal as I already explained). I did my morning chores, drove for coffee and came back to relax on the couch for a smidgen of time. At this very moment my four year old is hovering so close to me that if I flinched he would fall over. So very close to me that he actually has his little hand wrapped around my phone while I’m writing this making it all too evident that my personal space is out in a grave somewhere. Maybe one day I will be able to resurrect it but for now this is where we’re at.
Showers mean someone has to pee. Peeing means someone has a question. Sleeping makes me some form of squishy surface for plopping on top of. Relaxing makes me a cool thing to poke. Getting dressed comes with the constant jiggling of a door knob. Mopping isn’t without tiny, wet footprints all over the house. Writing something means both kids are bringing me things, touching my stuff and insisting that (even though they just got a million new toys) my phone is meant for kids games.
You’d think that once I pushed these tiny humans out of my body and gave them life that eventually they would enjoy the space between us.
My children might as well still be in the womb.