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.
I’ve got to say, this toddler tantrum malarkey has pounced on me like a mugger from a bush. I mean, I’d heard all about these terrible twos, but give me a break. My kid’s barely one!
There’s no doubt about it – toddlers are angsty little suckers. It’s like they have all the “why the hell are you getting in my face” rage of a teenager, but with an even worse ability to express themselves. At least teenagers can talk (well, grunt).
It seems like it’s all going on for these toddlers. Teething, the dreaded leaps, having to learn to do ALL OF THE STUFF. No wonder they get ranty.
Now I don’t know much about much, but I’ve been trying out a few tricks in the interests of trying to keep my sanity in the eye of the storm. So I thought I’d share what works for me.
So, wait, what? Brazen Mummy Writes has won an award? Says who?!
Ha ha, I know, I know. Month one – what are the chances. It’s called the Versatile Blogger Award – twit twoo. There’s no actual trophy, but I get to show off my badge. (Although I may have made that myself…)
And, hang on. Brazen Mummy is going to confess seven embarrassing things about herself? Crikey. Fetch the thermometer, what’s wrong with this woman…
What’s it All About?
I was kindly awarded the Versatile Blogger Award by the lovely Nikki Blissett, who blogs on her website:
The award is given to bloggers by other bloggers, like a glorious Mexican wave of appreciation for their work. Nikki is a mental health blogger, and whilst I haven’t suffered any mental health issues myself (other than the usual writing anxietyand random paranoias about impostor syndrome which I’ve blogged about), her honest writing style is a beautiful thing. (And you need to check out the adorable comments from her mum – they’ll melt your heart like a mug of hot chocolate)
Why the First Week of Blogging Feels Like the First Week of Motherhood
I lie on the floor of the landing. I’m not quite sure what I’m doing here. I just feel drained.
And then it hits me. This first week of blogging has been like that first week of motherhood. You know the one – when you felt knackered, emotional, and everything was just completely, indisputably surreal.
Right then, thinks my slightly fuzzy brain. You’re not lying here like a great whinge baby for nothing – there’s got to be a post in this somewhere. If I can just rack my memory banks and piece all this together…
So if you remember that hazy, crazy first week of motherhood, or if you’ve ever tried your hand at some new creative thing, have a peek at this and let me know if it all sounds a bit familiar…
Giving Birth – The Ouchy Bit of
The first week of blogging is done and it’s a bit like you’ve given birth. OK, so there were none of those good drugs and nobody came to stitch up your lady parts, but it was similarly intense.
Now don’t go shooting me down in flames. This may be a tad controversial, and I accept playgroups are a lifeline to many mums, and super great for the little ones, blah blah blah. But come on. Don’t they sometimes just annoy you?
And I’m not trying to put you off them. If you haven’t been, go with a friend, and all of this stuff will be hilarious. These are not ten universal truths, just my sarcastic take on the matter. Probably on a bad day.
*Secures her bullet proof vest for the onslaught*
Argh, here goes:
Playgroup Truth #1
Small strangers try to touch you. They are sticky. They have A LOT of breakfast encrusted around their faces and they may be snotty. Their parent/guardian types are not parenting or guarding, they are playing Candy Crush Saga on their mobile phones at an unsafe distance.