When did I become an adult? I mean I’m pretty sure I am still young and care free only thinking about what I’m going to wear to the pub or whether that seriously fit guy is going to be at said pub.

Instead I spend most days surrounded by the chaos of motherhood. Toys strewn everywhere and am normally in my pyjamas by 7pm purely as I’ve been covered in some sort of sticky mixture of yoghurt and snot since lunchtime.

I wouldn’t change being a mummy for anything but sometimes I stop short and can’t quite understand how I am old enough to have two children. And more importantly how I can be responsible for these two amazing beings. Surely I am not grown up enough for that? Being a grown up means oodles of serious things like planning for the future and keeping these little girls of mine safe every single day. Sometimes I’m just not sure I can deal with it.

How can I have that level of responsibility? Being the one who is there to ensure my girls are happy, healthy and loved every second of the day. Heck, how can I even be responsible for ensuring they have something to eat every day. Toast and jam counts as a balanced dinner right?!

Being a grown up means constant worry. A life of worrying about everything. I worry about whether I am a good mum, if I’ve spent enough time with them and if they are eating enough. I even worry if I’ve forgotten to clean their teeth. Then there are the worries for their future. Will they have happy lives? What will the world be like that they grow up in and can I do anything at all to protect them from the sometimes horrible place this world is becoming.

I’ve learnt that being a grown up means being very tired, all the time. When I was a youngster I could stay in bed till midday or climb in to bed for an afternoon power nap. I could just stay in bed all day watching Shipwrecked on T4 if I so desired. I very much miss that but I also very much like snuggling on the sofa with the girls even if it is to watch yet another episode of Peppa Pig and if I only get to sit there for 2 minutes before they request another drink/snack/trip to the toilet.

Now I’m a so called grown up I have to make serious decisions. Ones that will affect the girls future. Things like what school they will go to or where we should buy a new house that means moving areas and uprooting the girls. It’s no longer a decision based on which houses we like. It has to be near aforementioned schools and a house that works for us as a family. I had to make decisions about work that were in the best interests of the girls and Edd has had to sacrifice time with the family in order to allow me to do that whilst he works silly hours. It’s a delicate balancing act.

And that’s another thing. The sacrifices. The girls come first, always. And if that means I have to go without or not do things I want to then so be it. They are my priority.

I’m just not sure I’m qualified to make these kind of decisions or for this level of responsibility. How on earth can I know what is the best things for two small people in every element of their life? I suppose that a lot of that comes just by being a mum. It’s a natural thing no matter how scary that may be.

So, no, I don’t want to be a grown up. But I do want to be the best mummy I can be. So very much. And I guess those two things go hand in hand.

Image by Anna at We Are The Clarkes.