I struggle to realise some days that I'm a 34-year-old mother and wife. Most days I feel like a... ah well something a lot younger and a lot less responsible.
I chuckle to myself when I'm emailing as part of the parents committee at preschool. I think to myself, 'Do they think I'm actually a responsible parent? Able to be part of a committee? And like, make decisions?' I feel like a fraud. Yet, here I am. I even signed up to bake something for the welcome night tonight. Bake something. Me. Crazy world we live in.
Maybe it comes from growing up youngest in my family. I took on the role of not having to be responsible with gusto. Not that I'm irresponsible, of course, just that all this 'responsible' stuff always fell to someone else. Someone older.
I remember when Lil-lil was born, at about 2am we were shown our room, I was told to get into bed and go to sleep. The midwife started out the door and I was thinking 'They can't just leave me here with a baby. Surely we need some kind of monitor or something. I have no idea what I'm doing. This just isn't safe.'
Every step of the way, I've muddled my way through this parenting gig, thinking someone was about to tap me on the shoulder and say: 'You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?'
Even Goosey just asked me: 'Why are you playing with those clothes?' as I put a load of washing on. Even she can see that I'm just make-believing this grown-up family stuff.
Skip goes off to work in his suit, being a business man. The kids are running around. Tell me, how did I become a grown up?