Just a mum. A mummy. A mama. A mother.
A small, insignificant word that when used makes whatever follows as insignificant as it can be.
Just a mummy.
But I’m not just a mummy. A mum. A mama. A mother. I’m so much more. I’m not just anything.
I like to bake (and eat cake).
I like to get grand ideas from Pinterest and turn them into #pinterestfails.
I like wine (I love wine) and hate hangovers.
I like travelling. Exploring new places. The feel of the sun on my skin or the crisp coolness of the wind in the autumn.
I like (need) coffee.
I dislike arguments but like making up.
I don’t really like running, but I do like the sense of achievement. I do it to stay healthy, active and to keep up with my boys.
I am chief chef, taxi driver, giver of cuddles, of kisses.
I do letter practice, counting and reading.
I am there for every sick day, for every concert, for the big and the small.
I put small boys down to sleep, help them drift off to dreamland and I’m there when they wake.
I’m there through the tantrums, the smiles, the laughter and the tears.
I give them the freedom to explore the world and learn their limitations then I’m there when they bump their heads.
I take time for me, I read, I blog, I bake, I run. I remember that as well as being mum I am Laura.
I am a mummy. Mum. Mama. Mother.
It is a large part of my life, an important definition and a word I (normally) love hearing shouted (unless it’s on repeat a thousand times a day)
But I’m not just a mum.
I’m a wife. A daughter. A sister. A friend.
I am Laura.
There is no just.