It’s been about balancing on the edge of a cliff face, determined not to fall off. It’s been about struggling to maintain a sense of calm while a million things on my “to do” list whizz through my head.

It’s been about trying to be the best mum I can possibly be, while being the best radio presenter I can possibly be, while being the best copywriter I can possibly be, while being the best blogger I can possibly be, while being the best feature writer I can possibly be. And still remain some sort of wife to my husband.

In short, it’s been about survival against the ravages of tiredness and stress, for happiness to reign supreme.

But it’s not been about staying alive.

That’s what I tell myself every time I want to moan. Every morning when the alarm screeches into my dreams at 3.45am and I unglue my eyelids, I remind myself I am alive. I am happy. I am loved. I love.

My health, my child’s health and my husband’s health is, thankfully, intact. My sister is healthy, as is my father, mother and every other member of my extended family.

Every afternoon, when the toddler’s mood darkens and the storm clouds of rage threaten to break into an almighty tantrum, I remind myself I am lucky. I am alive. Happy. Loved. Love.

To be alive, healthy, happy. To love and be loved. Surely it’s all anyone can wish of their life?

***

This post is written as part of the #dosomethingyummy campaign from CLIC Sargent, to raise awareness of Yummy Mummy Week on 10th to 18th March 2012.

You can show your support by taking part in the writing prompt over at I Am Typecast and sharing these posts on Facebook and Twitter.  

The post Survival appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

Most evenings, around 6pm, my child means one thing to me: MESS.

Pure, unadulterated mess. Crayons in the carpet, milk on the sofa, books and cushions and dried rice and sticky ketchup strewn around the house and smeared up walls. This is the evidence I live with a small person. The evidence I am a mum.

But that mess - the stuff that makes me want to tear my hair out at the end of a long day - is what keeps me going.

It’s the mess that makes me get out of bed at 3.45am every morning to go to work. It’s the mess that keeps me writing at stupid o’clock in the evening. It’s the mess which drives me forward, pushing myself to earn money so that one day we can buy a house.

I can’t put into words what my child means to me. She is at once soul destroyingly frustrating and achingly beautiful.

She melts me.

***

I’m getting involved with Nickie’s weekly blog prompt over at I Am Typecast,  to raise awareness of CLIC Sargent’s Yummy Mummy Week on 10th – 18th March. I’ve worked for this charity in the past and seen the amazing work it does.

It makes a huge difference to the lives of children suffering with cancer, giving families clinical, practical and emotional support.

Yummy Mummy Week is a fundraising week held by mums, for mums. The idea is to have some fun with your mates, while raising money for a great cause. You can find out more on the website or by visiting Nickie’s blog, I Am Typecast.

Help raise awareness by joining in with the weekly blog prompt, or tweeting with the hashtag #dosomethingyummy.

The post What do your children mean to you? appeared first on Mother's Always Right.