Читать книгу Unravelled: Life as a Mother - Maria Housden - Страница 12

Will had already crawled halfway up the steps when he turned, plopping his diapered bottom on the stair behind him, and giggled at me. Standing two steps below him, I smiled and clapped my hands encouragingly. I was trying to hide my concern, not wanting to scare him, half-wondering if I should whisk him up and away from danger, but feeling too excited to interrupt his climb. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he finally reached the top.

Will turned back to the task, and I slowly followed. As soon as he reached the top step, he scooted his chubby legs around until he was in a sitting position and, beaming at me, began clapping his hands. His delight in this new perspective, looking down on me, was worth every breathless moment I had experienced during his climb. I grinned and clapped too, reaching over to kiss his cheek.

‘Good job, Will! You did it,’ I said; I couldn’t have been more proud than if he had just scaled Mount Everest. ‘You must be so proud of yourself,’ I said, reaching down to pick him up and carry him back down the stairs.

Two hours later, my friend Ann and I were sitting in her living room, which was comfortably cluttered with toys, unfolded laundry and half-drunk cups of coffee. Will and Ann’s daughter Jillian were crawling around the gated, child-proofed space, mostly oblivious to each other. I admired Ann. She was the kind of woman I secretly wanted to be. Smart, sexy and sure of herself in a way that I wasn’t, she was finishing her graduate degree in child psychology. She was unapologetically in love with Mark, her second husband, a talented and successful graphic artist, and the father of Jillian.

Ann seemed to know everything when it came to the health and safety of her child. I was sure she had memorized every dot and mole on Jillian’s body while I, on the other hand, hadn’t even remembered to count Will’s fingers and toes in the moments after his birth. Ann seemed unconcerned about what other people might think about the way her house or life looked; as long as Jillian was happy, everything was okay. I was pretty sure my priorities weren’t so noble or clear. I knew I loved Will as much as Ann loved Jillian, but I still considered the care and running of my home one of my primary responsibilities. It really mattered to me, the way things looked.

Every morning, after Claude left for work and Will went down for his morning nap, I scurried around, emptying and loading the dishwasher, dusting, vacuuming, making the beds and straightening each room. I had a list of daily, weekly and monthly household tasks taped to the refrigerator door, as well as a frequently updated grocery list, organized according to the supermarket aisles. I prided myself on my efficiency and organization, and loved it when Claude raved to friends and family about how quickly I had bounced back after Will’s birth. Everything I did was done with one eye open to the way it would appear to someone else.

Now, listening to Ann with one ear, I watched Will practice pulling himself up to stand while Jillian crawled around on the living room floor. Ann suddenly paused in the middle of a sentence when she saw what Will was doing.

‘Oh, my God! Look at him,’ she exclaimed. ‘He’s going to be walking before you know it!’

I smiled, trying to look more modest than I felt. ‘You won’t believe what he did this morning,’ I said, and then told her how he had crawled up the steps to the second floor. When I finished, I knew I was beaming, but I couldn’t help it; I felt as proud as I had the moment he had reached the top. Ann, however, was more horrified than impressed.

‘No! Where were you? Don’t tell me you were there and let him do it. Now you’re going to have to watch him like a hawk to keep him from doing it again,’ Ann said.

The smile slid off my flushed cheeks as I took a sip of my tea to camouflage my embarrassment. Of course, Ann was right! What had possessed me to allow Will to do something so foolish and unsafe? Closing my eyes briefly, I vowed to be more attentive to my child’s health and well-being. No matter how clean or well-organized my house was, it couldn’t make up for the shame I now felt as a mother.