I read this story and could really relate – with this tired mum in Brisbane as I too could see myself reflected in the messy bun piled on her head, stained flannelette shirt and remnants of old nail polish on her toes.
‘The Saturday morning queue at my local Brisbane café is long.
It’s my first time leaving the house alone since the birth of my second baby, Bobby, six weeks ago. My 18-month-old toddler, Noah, clutched the rails of the safety gate, sobbing, as I kissed him goodbye with promises of a smartie cookie on my return.
I notice another mum ahead of me, cradling a new baby and trying to stop her toddler from sprinting outside. Just as she’s approaching the counter, her toddler breaks free, and she’s forced to abandon the queue to chase her outside.’
The woman’s toddler escapes again, this time to yank a large handful of geraniums out of a pot outside. She follows, and flops down onto a milk crate seat, tossing her face mask aside in defeat. She settles her newborn into the pram. A triple pram. What? Yes. There are two tiny newborns, plus Daisy!
I can’t bear it any longer. I rush over to her…….