I’m sorry you have a tired mummy. A mummy that sometimes snaps at you for asking the four-thousandth question before 8am, a mummy that doesn’t play with you half as much as she would like to.
See mummy is up for more of the night because your baby brother was awake. Awake whilst you slept soundly, like you always do. Like you always have done.
I’m sorry you hear the word ‘wait’ so often. That I can’t do what you want me to all of the time like I used to.
See mummy can’t always stop feeding or changing or burping. But I will get to you as soon as I can. And I – as should the older you – take comfort in knowing that you will learn patience and acceptance.
I’m sorry that sometimes your main source of entertainment is Peppa Pig, Ben and Holly or Paw Partol.
See mummy doesn’t want you just waiting around all day for mummy. And mummy knows that you really do love watching them.
I’m sorry you sometimes get shunted to one side when all you want is a story, or a cuddle, or to play.
See mummy has to sort out your baby brother or else he will scream and shout and cry.
I’m sorry you have to grow up so fast. That mummy sometimes tells you you’re a big girl now, not a baby, to stop being silly.
See mummy knows you are still a baby too. And you’re supposed to be silly and to have tantrums and test all of our patience. Sometimes mummy just forgets for a second that’s all.
I’m sorry you have to share. Share your mummy, share your daddy, share mummy’s lap and mummy’s cuddles. Share our attention.
See mummy has two babies now. Two little people to sit on her lap and two little people to cuddle. It used to be you that had all of the cuddles, all of the attention.
I’m sorry you have to wait. Wait for mummy to have a spare hand, wait for a cuddle, wait until your baby brother has finished his bottle.
See mummy has to hold your baby brother to feed him because he’s a baby. He can’t do anything for himself yet. Not like you can. Mummy had to do it all for you too not long ago.
I’m sorry your baby brother takes up most of my time, one day you’all know. One day you’ll understand. One day you will have children of your own and experience the same tiredness/excitement/guilt/happiness/torn feeling and mixture of emotions that mummy feels every single day. Every time mummy is holding your baby brother and laughing and cuddling and you look over as if to say
what about me?
I promise you there’s never a question of ‘what about me’. You are my everything, the most important thing in my life. You both are – and that’s why sometimes it’s so hard.
One day you’ll know. And one day the guilt will ease.