As I sit here, I am drumming my fingers awkwardly on the table, anxious because I feel like I should be at work.

Washing needs folding. I need to pay for swimming tomorrow, pack the bag for swimming tomorrow. Kev is desperately trying to convince me that I deserve rest and nothingness. I know he’s right but that does not mean it comes naturally to me.

I have instead, come to share a thought that yesterday, whacked me in the face.

Our TV uses our Google Photos account as a screensaver. We have chronciled our daughter’s lives in pictures and videos using this.

When I see photos of myself, I can remember how stressed I felt the day this photo was taken, or what sadness I was masking as I smiled. I can only ever see what, in myself at least, is lacking.

I love to see how my girls have changed, to be reminded of their beautiful smiles have evolved from gummy ones, to beaming full tooth (or in Immy’s case, missing milk teeth) smiles.

Yesterday, I was feeling a bit empty, even though I had been gifted a day to myself. Kev had hoped I would be doing very little other than resting. Instead, I bounced from one writing project to another as I listened to another audiobook. (I am now up to 34 completed books this year!)

Kev pointed out this seemed like work. And he is right. But it is work for my soul. I think the empty feeling may have come from my inner child work. Entirely necessary, but having to sit in conversation with that part of me, I think, had left my inner child in charge going into my evening and I didn’t know how to take charge and console her.

I didn’t want to do anything, or talk about anything because I felt as though I only had the work I felt there was to do, or the kids that weren’t there. So what did I have to offer? What was I?

I watched the Google Photos scroll, fawning over my beautiful girls as they grew before my eyes.I

I looked at the photos of myself, thinking I would pick out my sadness, my stress.

Actually, I felt a kick in my chest. I realised – I was the grown up! Not in a “Oh my God, how do I keep this together?” kind of way, but in a “My girls will look at these photos and only see their mum” kind of way.

My girls were not going to look at photos of me with them and remember the stresses or sadness I thought permeated my image, my memory. They were only ever going to see me – Mum.

To these little girls, I am not broken or inadequate. Perhaps they will be able to retrospectively pick out some of my shortcomings with the benefit of their own adulthood in years to come, but for now, I am Mum.

I could look at photos of me with my girls and see the moment. I could see I was happy, not just overrun with emotions I wasn’t skilled enough to handle on my own.

The top image was a day the girls snuggled in with me to watch a movie, without complaint. My heart was bursting and I whispered to Kev “Please get a photo for me, before they start wriggling!”

The second image was taken on Mother’s Day this year. I can see that I am glad to be with these beautiful humans, feeling proud of myself by virtue of being the mother, the nurturer of such beautiful, strong, cheeky humans.

There is no pain here, no inadequacy. I am the grown up. These young ladies will only see Mum and hopefully remember she was always trying her best to give them the moments they will remember.

I only hope that my inner child, frozen in place as she seemed to be yesterday, will remember that whack in the chest. I think it was the first time she realised she was looking upon a grown up. I think it was the first realisation that I was the adult she had to trust. Not fully skilled yet, I agree, but committed nonetheless.

And that, I think, is why I am so instinctively anxious to do. Because that’s what adults do right? They get things done.

But Kev is right. Because to do her best by all these girls, I deserve a break. Even if I am a grown up.