Buddhism for Mothers and Me

Confession: Allowing myself time out from being 'Mum' is something I struggle with.

This realisation delightfully hit me up side the head recently when I tried to enjoy lunch with two of my closest friends. We only had one hour to summarise and share news from the previous month over toasted sandwiches and flat whites, but I felt like I couldn't even achieve that. 

While I fed myself with one hand, I cleaned up spilled drinks, picked up toy cars and generally juggled E with the other. No matter how hard I tried to concentrate on the conversation and spend time with my friends I couldn't relax.


You could've sworn I'd joined Toddler Boot Camp and the Drill Sergent was screaming in my ear, "Don't let the kid crawl off! Move Sian he's about to getaway! Pick up the knife and fork off the floor before someone trips over it. Hurry up and drink that coffee before it goes cold! I said pick up the knife and fork! Now repeat back what your friend just said and make a useful, witty comment to show you're listening. Go! Go! Go!"

Needless to say my girlfriends were brilliant, offered to hold E so I could finish lunch and didn't mind talking to my butt as I squatted under the table to retrieve the lid from his bottle, bits of half chewed chicken and the salt shaker.

But as soon as we said our goodbyes I instantly wished I could have done lunch again and this time I would've left useless items where they lay, handed my baby over for someone else to cuddle him and just eat...oh, and talk of course!

Unfortunately, this isn't the first time I've felt like Tweedledum & Tweedledee - actually more often than not you could call me Tweedle-d'oh! - but when I can't enjoy lunch with my girlfriends because half my mind is elsewhere (not to mention my arms, purse, toys, lunch and child's shoes) I truly believe it has come to a point that I need to make a change.

Now, how do I do that?

Well, who better to ask than my old friend Google? With more than 31 million results for the search 'How to survive Motherhood', I skimmed past the books telling me to lower my standards because, let's face it, my standards are not standing at all but lying face down in the mud with a straw in its mouth for air like a snorkel, and clicked on Buddhism for Mothers. The description perfectly articulated what I was searching for:

Buddhism for Mothers explores the potential to be with your children in the all-important present moment; to gain the most joy out of being with them. How can this be done calmly and with a minimum of anger, worry and negative thinking? How can mothers negotiate the changed conditions of their relationships with partners, family and even with friends?

Obviously, I will devour this book with high expectations and demand immediate results because that is my Gen X prerogative, but if I gain nothing else at least my girlfriends will appreciate not being flashed my undies when I bend over to pick up after the little man while they try to engage me in conversation.