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.
Stop comparing yourself to others! But urgh, why is it so hard..?
Comparing yourself or your child to others will steal your happiness. Yep, that’s right. It will rock right up in its woolly balaclava and snatch the very joy from your delicate little palms.
So today I’m thinking about why we do this to ourselves and how we can just flaming well stop it! Because we should just concentrate on being fabulous us, have faith in our parenting skills and be proud of our gorgeous little bundles of craziness in all their ratty, snotty glory.
Hell yeah mummies, let’s crack this.
Should you stop comparing yourself to others completely?
OK, I’ll admit it. Just like the big guy with the twiddly moustache from the advert says, a bit of comparison can be a useful thing.
I mean let’s face it, none of us are born knowing how to mum. We learn and take our inspiration from others, to some extent. I know I’m often taking a sneak peek at how other mums do things and thinking bloody brilliant, I’m stealing that snazzy little trick.
Ooh, I’ve got a treat in store for you this week. Drum roll. We’re having a special guest – and she’s bubbling over with ideas on how to keep your kids quiet over the holidays. Erm, I mean lovely toddler learning games…
Now here’s the thing. I’ve bitched about toddler groups. I’ve moaned about tantrums. So the heat is really on to keep this child of mine entertained. And seeing as his becoming a brain surgeon is pretty much my retirement plan, it needs to be educational as well as fun. I do like to multi-task.
So that’s why I’ve brought one of my lovely blogger friends, Nanny Maryanne, to the rescue. Her website is here if you can’t resist knowing more:
She’s here to help me, and of course you delightful bunch, with her invaluable Nanny advice on toddler learning games. She’s going to divulge some invaluable tips on easy games you can play at home without having to fork out for a bunch of stuff (and fill your house with more kiddie crap!).
Yep, how lucky are we. The advice of an actual professional Nanny without having to pay for a thing. Bloody hell, we’re getting dead fancy.
I didn’t realise what a mother was until I became one.
When I was a child, you were someone who took charge of all the things and told me I couldn’t stay up late playing Barbie Rock Star. In my heart I was grateful you were always there with your hugs and your patience, but I didn’t realise it then.
When I was a teenager, you were someone who nagged about short skirts and said no to bad boyfriends. In my heart, I was grateful you showed me how to be strong and brave and to believe in myself, but I didn’t realise it then.
When I grew up, you became a best friend. I was growing into you – we liked the same things. We scavenged at flea markets, fought over bargains, shared inspiration. But that wasn’t all you were. I didn’t realise it then.
Now That I Am a Mother
Now that I am a mother, though still new, I begin to sense what it means – the sheer enormity of what you have given.
It’s World Poetry Day today, so I hope you don’t mind if I share this poem with you. I began writing it in the last few days of my nan’s life; it’s her funeral today.
My nan was in her nineties, a fiercely proud Italian and about the most headstrong of characters you could ever wish to meet. She loved unconditionally and went down fighting; a real Trojan of a woman.
I don’t know much about poetry and don’t usually write it. The opening lines just appeared in my head on my way to visit her for what I knew would be the final time – she was too ill to soldier on.
Then when I sat down to work on the poem, the words just flowed. Sometimes writing is like that. You don’t know what you want to say until the words emerge on the page. That’s part of the magic.
My nan was a natural-born storyteller and loved to be the centre of things, so I know she’d be thrilled to have her own poem, shared with the world. I can imagine her now, nodding sagely to anyone who’d listen, “my storia, on the compute.” So here it is. Continue reading “World Poetry Day – For You”