More Biscuit Mummy

I’m definitely a Mummy. I’m obsessed with my children, my marvellous boys, twin boys! How strange, I’m totally freaked out by how much I love them, and occasionally hate them, yes hate, actual loathing hate, it lasts a fleeting moment and then the love and guilt return.

I suffered a huge amount of guilt today. Ruru had nodded off on the way back from Aunty Katy’s, and Eddie had asked for, I mean demanded, a biscuit. I thought it wise, might keep him awake, he gets very tearful after daytime snoozing. So I cracked open the backpack box and let him choose, Custard Cream was his choice. I tucked into broken bits and cow biscuits, I love driving and eating, the only indulgence I share with Dexter, the fictional, enigmatic serial killer. We truddled along spotting cars and trucks and diggers and bum jam and farms and munching biscuits. I ate the final biscuit, a stale Nice, then came the cry, “more biscuit please Mummy!” I hadn’t even offered it to him. I answered, trying to conceal my mouthful, crumbs spurtling out of my fat face, “sorry darling, they’re all gone.” He was very accepting. Lord I felt awful. I don’t even really like dry biscuits. But I justified it, he’d had enough really, so had I.

I didn’t really want to have children, I always assumed one day it would happen but never craved it, desired it. But there’s no denying I’m sold. I do not want anymore children. The boys are challenge enough. I’m starting to fantasise about my future, considering careers and adventures but I have to stop myself, and remember to enjoy now. Ruru is still so soft, chubby-fingered, and wary of the world, Eddie wants to know where everything comes from, I elaborate and he listens intently. He wraps his arms so tight round my neck and says, in a quiet tone, “I love you mummy.” Every morning I get the most snuggly of snuggles. I dread the day they don’t want to touch me anymore. Will there be a day I don’t want to hold them? How sad. If I keep eating all their biscuits the day they disown me may come much sooner than I imagine. Sorry boys.


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