You may have caught my Mother’s Day post, in which I apologised to my mum for a lifetime of being a bit of a selfish toad. So staying topical, I have a Father’s Day poem for you. It is from my little boy to his Daddy. Yes, he’s very advanced for a toddler, don’t you think! It’s all his own work. (So excuse the formatting – he’s just a kid!)
I’ll let you into a little secret…. Now and again I forget to take my contraceptive pill, and all hell breaks loose. Suddenly I’m back Googling early signs of pregnancy like it’s 2014. Only this time it’s with a mild panic.
Don’t get me wrong, if we had an accidental pregnancy I’m sure we would welcome it with open arms. (Unexpected second child, if you’re reading this, Mummy and Daddy think you’re amazing! Thanks for rocking up.)
It’s just that I’m forty this year, it took us a very long time to have a successful pregnancy, and realistically my body doesn’t have a great track record at staying pregnant (you can read more about that here).
One thing I wasn’t prepared for when motherhood kicked off was the amount of time I’d spend feeling guilty. When I haven’t actually done anything wrong!
That DREADED mum guilt. Do you know the thing I mean? It seems to pop up everywhere, like an uninvited jack-in-the-box, with a dumb taunting face and stupid flashing fairy lights. Quite honestly, I wish it would just pee off.
It can quite happily invite itself to any situation. Wobbly toddler has a little topple (whilst you may have been checking your phone)? GUILTY. Baby gets nappy rash because you tried out those two-for-one nappies? GUILTY ONCE MORE.
And if you caught my recent post about comparing your little one to others, you’ll know I feel that panic every time I see a child acing something I haven’t taught my offspring to do.
(Ooh, excited side note – I have a FREEBIE for you at the end..!)
Guilty About the Little Things
Now here’s a mum guilt example. When I was pregnant, I read ALL OF THE BOOKS. I mean, I love a good book anyway, and who doesn’t get excited about a project(!)
Well, this one book called Brain Rules for Baby suggested that children under two shouldn’t watch TV. It was written by a very clever brain scientist, so who was I to argue. (Yes, yes, I know. First time mum with all those crazy ideals! PFFFFFFFFF.)
PLEASE DO THIS VERY QUICK FAVOUR FOR ME! Let me explain…
I will am currently taking another stab at embracing technology (PAIN!), and attempting to move my subscriber list to a better system.
This will mean I can send my readers freebies and exclusive content, so it should be super exciting.
What is NOT COOL is that I will lose all of you who signed up via your WordPress account (rather than subscribing by putting your email address in the box.) I feel so sad about this, as us bloggers sweat blood and tears to win the heart of every precious reader. I can’t bear to lose any of you. Please stay with me!
So if you signed up via WordPress, I would love it if you’d stick your email address in one of the SUBSCRIBE boxes now, as I can move those emails to my new system. I have a FREEBIE coming out with my next blog post this weekend, and I don’t want anyone to miss out. So please take this step ASAP!Continue reading “URGENT MESSAGE TO MY SUBSCRIBERS!”
I mean, since when did overwhelm become a noun as well as a verb – that’s what I want to know.
Was it when we all became so overwhelmingly overwhelmed, that some flashy business guru had to invent more jargon? Well, don’t let it be said Brazen Mummy doesn’t keep you on the cutting edge of fancy schmancy lingo.
So are you suffering with this overwhelm too?
And what does it look like?
Err, you know that thing when you’ve got so much stuff to do you can barely stop for breath? When you might just yank your frazzled hair out and scream big ugly swear bombs just for the eff of it? Yes, well that. (So a friend tells me…)
You may wonder why Brazen Mummy would suffer with this overwhelm. Aren’t I “just” a stay at home mum? Well, firstly, this mumming is a damn sight more demanding than my years of swanning around the office. The days when I could pee solo and make coffee the first time the kettle boiled.
Mumming is a twenty-four hour Piccadilly circus, with no pay and a two foot boss who can tantrum like a b*tch.