From Lover to Mother and Back

There are moments between a man and a woman when bliss envelopes you.

When you have completely breathed him in, so all you can taste, smell and hear that once belonged to him, are now yours. Moments when you kiss, touch and caress with such fierce love that despite yourself and modesty, you cry out in passion.Your voice an empassioned melodic note struck against the dark stave of the night.

These are not moments you wish to be bookended with the quiet voice of your thirteen year old son standing just outside the bedroom door asking very politely…

‘Are you alright Mum?’

It tends to bring you back to earth. Rather quickly! I’m grateful he was so easily persuaded I was fine, and he didn’t open the door. My new lover had an unusual look on his face. I’ve seen it before on the faces of possums in the headlights about to become road kill. Of course we assured the lad that all was well and everyone went back to sleep.

Not back to what they were previously doing I might add. The mood had passed.

My Englishman had flown 18000 kms to come out and see me after meeting me in Paris in 2007. I’d sent the kids off to Newmarket to the movies to give me some time to meet him at the airport and bring him home to my lair.

Come into my parlour said the spider to the fly!

I was incredibly nervous about seeing him again in the flesh (not on Skype) after our two month separation. What if he came out of Departures took one look at the short smiling ‘lady in red’ and ran? (Yes, I have issues with abandonment, I know). I had tidied the house, myself and the car for his arrival. I’d even valeted the car, and cleaned the inside of the dishwasher. First impressions matter!

I had carefully briefed the kids;

‘Mum’s friend is coming out from England and I’m going to show him around NZ whilst you’re at your Father’s.’

The cunning plan had been to have the kids stashed away at their father’s when my Englishman arrived so we could have some private time for the reunion, but my ex has an unerring ability to make chaos out of my private life – and changed the dates on me, so the kids were home until the next day. Of course they were thrilled with my apparent generosity and tickets to the movies and McDonalds, and I’d reassured my Englishman that they wouldn’t disturb us once they were in bed.

I was quietly pleased at my craftiness!

See this juggling mother/lover roles is not that hard!

But you know what? It is tricky! Sometimes very tricky. The practical issues can be a tad daunting, especially when you first enter into a new relationship, with kids in tow. Of course before you’ve even allowed the kids to meet your new man you’ve given careful thought about whether he will have a long-term involvement in your life and whether they should meet at all.

Despite the glich on the first night, everything went according to plan and the kids went off with their father, leaving us to have the most wonderful time touring the North Island of New Zealand.  It was a passionate sexy time. We swam with dolphins, we went skiing, we spent long days lying together in bed. Just being together. After feeling so alone for so long, it was magical.

Then the kids returned and we all went down to a bach at Whangapoua. The bedroom door didn’t have a lock. We found that out when the seven year old burst in during a session of early-morning sensual – ahem- massage.

‘What are you doing?’ She squinted suspiciously.

‘Um massage. Oh poor thing has such a sore back. Such a sore sore back!’ I replied tugging at the bedclothes to cover myself with one hand and pummelling his reddening back with the other.

‘Are you in the nudey Mummy?’

Splutter cough..

‘Out you go! Go on. I’ll be up soon. Go and tell Dark Princess to play Monopoly with you!’

Door shut and bounced back open, just a fraction. My Englishman lept out of bed with his arse on fire (or so it appeared) and firmly shut the door. Then he found a chair and some stockings and jigged up a ‘holding device’. Holding us in or them out? He came back to bed. Playtime was over.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ His face told a different story.

‘Really, what’s wrong?’

‘It’s really weird…. how one minute you’re my sexy lover and the next all mumsy.’

I hadn’t realised I was mumsy. Ever! I certainly hadn’t realise that I flitted between roles.

That was three years ago now. I’ve learnt a great deal about all the different roles I play. All the different Vix inside me. It gets crowded in there. Sometimes there’s disagreements – one Vix wants to knock another Vix’s head off for being so stupid – sometimes there’s confusion (Which Vix wants to answer the doorbell to my daughter’s friend’s Mum, in a towel with wet hair belying the evidence of daytime nookie? Mummy Vix?) Sometimes I get it completely wrong and end up ‘mummying’ my man and teasing my kids as if they were adults!

And that’s before you even start to consider all the other Vix in there.

Vix the writer – agonising over her career and wishing she could break through

Vix the marketer – agonising over her career wishing she could show clients how good she really is!

Vix the friend – agonising over how she’s losing track with all those she’s left behind Down Under!

Vix the daughter – agonising over how her first reaction to her mother’s news that she may be coming to stay was abject panic!

Vix the Aunty, the sister, the sister-in-law, the new friend, the blogger..

Then there’s Vix the mother, Vix the wife, and Vix the lover.

I try hard, to not get those mixed up. But I’m simply so many people all at once.

I don’t wear different hats, I don’t have different roles or different clothes, I simply wear different lives.

NB/This post was part of the Sleep is for the Weak’s Writing Workship. My prompt was the one about telling about the different ‘you’s there are! My answer is quite a few!

FEMALE FACE BEAUTY CLIP ART 3
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