Every. Single. Day.

on mother's day and being back home after a week of movies and painkillers

I’ve been away filming for a month, only back for a full day and night each weekend - which was almost worse than being away for the full stretch. I thought it would be comforting for me to come home for a day, whenever I could, and I thought I could make “use” of the travel time (7 hours from Hastings to Liverpool) by writing and reading and sewing and drawing on the train but alas, I did not do any of those things.

I looked out the window, or read about the war(s) and listened to sad songs and occasionally, took a selfie/deleted the selfie.

If I Had Legs I’d Kick You - @loganwhitephoto

Every time I got home I had to brace myself for the mess as I opened the front door, afraid the mess or the smell of the house would put me off and I wouldn’t be able to hug my kids properly until I had done a deep clean and manic dog-hair hoover. I’m a hyper-sensitive, anal woman and I wish I wasn’t.

I worried I’d have a panic attack seeing the shoes anywhere other than the shoe rack, toys and sofa cushions and tea-towels and books and school bags discarded in the hallway…. I thought I’d be a bitch because I was exhausted from long days of chatting on set (which requires a much more substantial social battery than I was dealt at birth). I thought I’d snap at my boyfriend about there being no food for dinner or milk - causing a massive fight as soon as I got in and ruining the one day I had at home.

In fact I was fine, no panic attacks. There was milk. There were happy children who had been fine without me. I accepted the mess that I could detect, aware that much of it was hidden. I hugged my children and enjoyed the time it took to get them to sleep - in fact I enjoyed all the things I usually find a little tedious about motherhood - the cleaning up of plates, serving snacks, wiping bums, cleaning teeth - and appreciated how close I was to them. They were not just ideas of mine or photos to share - they were real, they are mine, I was next to them.

It was “Mother’s day” yesterday here, and I saw so many posts about being a mother and what it meant. How thankful we are and should be. I don’t like these “days” that we have and must conform to… Not a fan of people using hashtags in exchange for love.

My mother is amazing. She’s had 5 kids, she’s lost one. She’s looked after my kids as if they are her own. Helped me so that I can work all these years. Never complained or made me feel silly for asking for help. She accepts me. She doesn’t want overt praise or thanks or an instagram post, she barely allows me to take photos of her (though I do). She loves me like I love her and we have great respect for each other. Neither of us needs reminding of this, yet I felt compelled to thank her publicly for everything she’s ever done for me, for giving birth to me, because that’s what everyone else was doing throughout the day yesterday.

I saw so many images of mothers that my brain did not need to see. Lovely mums, sure. But why?

It feels fake, yet I posted something because I thought I’d be judged by my siblings or relatives if I didn’t.

I don’t want to do that again.

I want to change my habits. I am in a muddle with my presence online, as I have been since the birth of my last baby who is 4 this week, quite ridiculously. 4? I won’t ever have a little baby again. I will no longer have a toddler. I have 4 KIDS…actual kids who can talk and fight and debate and use a remote control and do homework. Still, I don’t feel ready.

me and my mama

I’m trying to get braver at sharing more risque images of myself to try and make it more clear that I have an onlyfans so that I can gain subscribers and continue to pay my bills (and buy luxury items like the Oatly Barista and the Whole Earth Smooth peanut butter). My cryptic tactic has stopped working. It’s quite incredible that lots of people still think it’s been a joke all along - as if it is simply unbelievable that a sweet bespectacled mother of 4 is in such need of money that she has succumbed to a platform largely known for porn - no, no! she must have the time to make up such a big joke and write about it for a year for giggles!.

I have been to the cinema three times in one week (thanks to my subscribers because the cinema is fucking expensive). I was away recovering from my boob job (medical update: I LIKE THEM BUT THEY HURT) so me and my boyfriend went to see Wuthering Heights. We left after 41 minutes. This was either because I found the whole thing too clean-cut, nonsensical and ribbon-y OR because I was having some post-op feverish chills and the cinema was too cold.

I also went to see If I Had Legs I’d Kick You on my own and to help with my pain I ordered a pint of bitter - which I thought like Guinness - but it was so disgusting I think it meant I found the entire film too nauseating to “enjoy”. But maybe that was the point of the film?

We assume we will “enjoy” motherhood, but there are only a few moments a day in which you can really enjoy it. The rest is laundry and worrying and cleaning and future-scaping and feeding. When Rose Byrne gets into bed with her daughter, a little drunk, and smiles for the first time in the film and says “I love you I love you I love you” and seems truly happy for a second before her daughter tells her she smells of wine - I thought yes! That’s it! It’s those little ecstatic displays throughout the blurry days that make it worth it - even if everything is falling to pieces.

Never liked Rose Byrne so much. As mothers we should give ourselves a break sometimes and sprint to the sea, crashing into the waves in the moonlight until we are ready to be “better” and go home.

I got back to my babies post-op day 5 and took my kids to see Hopper at the imax. The recliner seats were perfect with my codeine. I’m quite clearly not a film critic and I do look at my phone at 15 minute intervals BUT I do think that Hopper is a return to form for Pixar. It’s a lovely story about a grandmother and daughter who share a love and need for nature, and when the grandmother dies, the girl goes on a quest to save a lake with a beaver. Or something like that. I think the best thing about it was that there were no animals on iphones featured at all, and the ending was positive (I did show my daughter La La Land this week too and she was distraught at the unhappy ending, so Hopper was a relief at least for her even though there was a massive fire).

Whenever I’m away from my kids, I forget how abstract children can be from the moment they wake up in the morning. As soon as I got back and once they had warmed up to me (it always takes an hour or so) - the questions started rolling in.

“Can you have two girlfriends?”

“Can you touch fire with your mouth?”

“How do you get a broken heart?”

“How does the carwheel know where to go?”

And then it starts again….

I’m Jessie but I’m just their mum and I crawl out of their room on my hands and knees once they fall asleep, back to my bed, where they find me again in the middle of the night…. I answer all the questions ineptly but I mean well and I smile and I hug them too tight and I do my best, even though I’m scared all the time of what the future may bring or if I can provide for them and I feed them nuts and milky way stars and I bring them milk and make sure they don’t watch too much youtube and……I am so lucky to be their mum, every single day.