I Hate Everything.

So as I ponder what might be a fun activity to pass the many hours until bed time I am reminded of how much I hate activities. These are a few of the many things that I have the displeasure of doing quite frequently:

I hate Parks.

I cannot remember a time young or old that I enjoyed parks, they seem to be an area containing an inexplicable number of climbing apparatus designed to both entertain your children and very likely damage them. I swear half the ‘play things’ found in our local parks have been designed by people who hate parents and they just keep getting higher and faster as though there is any actual need for this. I know that I sound like a grumpy mumma who hates the idea of fun but actually I am just a chronic worrier which is undeniably worse. Then there are the things that really shouldn’t be in the park such as dog shit, smoking swearing teenagers, and often the very distinctive smell of weed so if we combine the antisocial behaviour and the risk of death I like to avoid parks where I can but unfortunately with two children I cannot. Bravo.

I Hate Soft Play.

Probably one of the worst ‘child friendly’ activities for the attentive parent, these places breed the notice that as long as your child is okay on their feet and they are passed a certain age (massively variable from parent to parent) it is totally acceptable to have a cuppa and stare at your phone for two hours. I also begrudge paying for my son (when taking my daughter) who is under a year old when he is confined to the smallest area of mat with a few balls and soft toys, the real issue I have with this is simply that I have to police this area for it to be safe because all those big children who cannot read the sign saying ‘babies only’ jump through it knocking over all the little ones, whilst their parents are still sipping that cold coffee and checking out what Susan did over the weekend. And breathe. Also who cleans that place? How do they clean that place? They are normally not very well ventilated and full to the rafters of children sweating like they are in a night club; I have found old socks, plasters, bits of tissue in these places. Also like if those points were not nearly enough to have to deal with let’s talk about colds, these areas of play must be a haven for germs and with the lack of possible ways to clean an establishment that has 15 ball pits in I very much doubt the child with the snotty nose and the cough is keeping himself to himself.

I Hate the Swimming Pool.

Now swimming pools are not that bad, they are clean (regardless of the amount of child piss that must be released) they are well manned by people ready to save your life and very often the baby friendly area is lovely and heated but if like me you are still carrying some baby weight mixed with some emotional weight and a good serving of exhaustion weight you might wish to avoid them anyway. There is nothing that feels me with anxiety like the idea of getting down to even a one-piece for all those people (who are not actually watching) to see, it is not just the extra padding that has found its way onto my arse, my thighs, my arms, well let’s just say everywhere it’s those unwelcome fucking friends it has also brought like Mr Cellulite and Mr Stretch-Marks (they are Mr’s for obvious reasons). Consider the time it takes just shaving for such a catastrophic event, especially when that time isn’t given freely by your baby. If like me you are also scared of the hairdressers you will know the very real threats of having people see you with wet hair, it feels me with horror that a women being paid to sort the birds nest I call my hair has to see it let alone people just heading out for some leisurely fun.

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The crying it out method. 

So my baby doesn’t sleep, he gets up in the middle of the night for up to three hours and for the last ten months it’s been hard. It’s been so hard I nearly spoilt Christmas with my bad mood, I’ve turned down countless offers of help because of fear of what my baby is like in the night, I have single handedly caused chaos, torment and upset with my crippling up and down moods swings.

Now we are only on night one and this means we have a path ahead of us that is likely to be hella difficult but I wanted to write this to remind me of how I feel today. Last night George woke up at 12, I gave him a bottle and changed his bum and put him back down, he cried for 20 minutes, I then got him out again and gave him the rest of his bottle (he never finishes in one sitting) and he then went back to his bed for another 20 minutes crying and then slept until 6. I think it’s safe to say that today I feel like a goddess. 

I am not a bad mum but the sleep deprivation is a real struggle and today with a good night sleep I have been active, alert, happier and my patience has been restored. We have eaten better, the house is tidier and I even walked the dog solo, a massive fear for me as he is a large Labrador who pulls me down the road. 

I have thought about dinner and have retrieved what we need from the freezer, I have relied less on the tv as a distraction for George. I have been a better mum today. I haven’t panicked about naps because I need a rest. 

I know we have miles to go but I am basking in the glow of making positive steps for not only me but the rest of my family too. I want to remember this feeling because when I listen to him cry at night just wanting to be with me I can safely say that when he is with me in the morning he will feel the full force of everything I can give him, not the half measures I’ve been using because I’m a fucking zombie. 

It always seemed like a dad thing to say ‘let him cry it out’ but having mumma’s approached me when I asked for help to give me this advice I felt as though I could give it a try. Sorry dads but your advice is generally not well received, it could be to do with the fact I’m living off 6 hours broken fucked up sleep, coffee and sweets. 

Here is to what hopefully will be something we can continue! 

Ps the featured image is not me today, that was me a couple of weeks ago. I probably look the same to be fair because it’s only one night but I have never looked so bad in all my life. My skin is dark and patchy, my eyes look sunken and tired, I’m spotty, my weight is uncontrollable. I want to be me again, I looked better immediately after labour than I do now. George about two days old: