With yesterday’s chaos behind us, I woke up with a fresh disposition to enjoy every minute of today. Except, I have a 4 month old baby, who has different ideas. She loves the boob more than my husband did back in the day. You know when they actually resembled perkiness and some lustre.
So my morning resembled this pattern
Feed-change-wipe shit off jeans -be sicked on-burp-rock baby to steep-sit perfectly still because she will not be put down- *then repeat.
The final rotation went something like this:
Mummy: awwwww your so bloody cute I could eat you on a butty, but I wish you would just listen to your singy lighty thing while I pee.
Baby: *farts. Whilst smiling. Then proceeds to hold both hands together whilst pooing what sounds to be fizzy custard.
Mummy: okayyyy, let’s change your bum bum (in that really annoying mum voice)
Baby: kicks joyously at the revealing of the contents of the nappy.
Mummy: Tries her hardest to hold on to both of those flailing legs, looses grip and baby kicks slap bang in the epicenter of the poo explosion. Mummy pulls the last wipe out of the packet.
Shit shit shit.
So I pulled out every stop wiped her bum with a wet towel, new nappy on, the full clothes change, and started the rotation again. Except this time I sat with my phone texting Mike.
“You best be finishing early, I’ve had shit up to my eyeballs”
I’m surely not the only one who does this? The obligatory I’ve had enough of this shit text. Not everyday, or every week. Who am I kidding, it’s definitely at least every week.
This time, Mike must have had a decent coffee and some form of brain food because what he said was simple.
1. Put the baby in the car seat.
2. Take the sling (the pram broke last week).
3. Go and eat some food.
4. Buy some wipes.
I couldn’t argue with that, it was 4 steps. Not that it’s ever that easy to get out, but this time I was not going to put make up on or brush my hair. I wasn’t going to attempt to get baby in a nice/sick free outfit. We was going out for the purpose of eating, and getting the basics of baby bum cleaning.
So all I can say, is that when you are in the mix of it all, that it is more than important to feed yourself. Both physically and psychologically. Going out with shitty hair, sick down my top and the child in a Christmas themed outfit was not important. Getting out, stopped what can sometimes feel like a never ending merry go round and leave you feeling like your the worst mum whilst every ounce of your energy is being taken up by keeping them feed/changed/not turning that beetroot red colour when they scream.
Take one piece of advice, in 2 simple steps:
1. Get the baby in the car seat.
2. Get out.
You will feel better. We are social creatures, and need that interaction. Even if it is a 10 minute car journey to walk around mothercare and dream about all of the stuff you want to buy, but can’t because you have no money (stupid mat pay) and it gets you away from that fucking daytime tele/Justin’s house stupidness.
You’re not the only one.