7.37am: Why is it so dark in this room? Why are these blinds all shut? Well fuck, it’s probably to hide how shitfaced this room is. Why do we have so many fucking toys? One day I’m going to raid this room when they’re asleep and throw out everything except for a solitary wooden toy per child because that’s educational or something. I should look that up. Shit, it’s Lilly’s party this weekend, I need to buy her present. Do we have wrapping paper? I should do gift tags like Nicola does on her gifts, she’s so damn clever. I’ll look for tags at Kmart today.
Things they don’t tell you about parenthood no. 362: the athleticism required.
If you’re the kind of person who really likes to kick back and not move, you might find parenthood a bit of a shock. Because you can’t half arse this shit. It’s Aerobics Mum Style from day one. Here’s the timetable:
FLEXIBILITY. Exhibit A. My children now share a room and they cannot fall asleep without me touching them. I don’t have to rock or pat anymore but I must be touching. Their beds are on opposite sides of the room. So that’s fun. You’ll also get a workout in the car, trying to reach dropped water bottles from the driver’s seat. Also the many hours you have to sit on the floor to play stupid trains.
I come up with inventions every day. I’m going to tell you a few and you can let me know which one you think is a winner. But don’t steal my ideas ok? Because one of them is going to make me a millionaire.
Disposable clothes. Every day, as I fold the 18th basket of clothes, I decide we are either going to become nudists or we need to wear disposable clothes because there couldn’t be a family on earth that wears this many socks. Obviously, there’s an environmental impact so they’d need to be biodegradable. That could cause durability issues so we’d never be able to walk outside in the rain or move too much. Small price to pay.
This is not one of those ‘love your body’ posts.
I’d never do that because nobody cares about my body issues. It’s annoying when people my size preach about ‘accepting’ their ‘horrible’ bodies.
BUT this is a post about society’s obsession with SIZE and the assumptions we make about people based on the number at the back of their clothes.
We see someone with curves and assume they’re lazy and weak.
We see someone like me and assume they eat well and exercise.
People aim to be thin – at all costs.
Hi, I’m Lauren, I wear a size 8 and I am NOT healthy.
Bookmark this page for all the times you look at the clock and think FML it’s only 2.30 and I will cry if I have to play trains for one more minute.
I couldn’t stop worrying about her hair. We were having some mummy-daughter photos taken, but her hair was a mess. She wouldn’t let me brush it and I didn’t want to have a fight in front of the photographer so I tried really hard to ignore it and hoped the photos turned out ok.
And then I saw the photos. Straight away I realised how stupid I’d been.
She looks incredible. She looks wild and happy. She looks like her. The little girl I want her to be. The little girl I love most of all.
Why would I care so much about her hair? What for? I was so annoyed that I’d even given it a second thought, like what her hair looked like was important at all.
I might be a feminist and I know all the things I’m supposed to say and do to raise my strong girl, but as it turns out, I still have 37 years of cliched expectation to undo in myself. It hurt my heart to think I might be responsible for making her think she needs to be flawless to be accepted.
So I wrote her a letter. To remind her AND myself what really matters.
One of the bonuses of parenting is being able to take credit for your child when they do something good.
“Oh yes, did you notice that? Isn’t he amazing?? I made him myself. Why thank you, yes I *am* an incredible mother.”
The trouble with Thud is… I think… maybe… I can’t take credit for him. Because he’s BETTER than me.
Let me tell you a story (and this is just one example of many).
Are you a good mum? What makes someone a good mum?
I was asked this question a few days ago and to be honest, all I could think about was what DOESN’T make a good mum. I have a whole list of things I know we DON’T need to do to prove ourselves… and then I saw this fucking ridiculous quote
and I knew I was right: