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.)
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.
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.
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.