It's not you, it's me...

So. Seven months into the parenting game and I've come to realise something. Well, several things in fact.

I need a break.

You see, I've always been a writer, but never delved into anything but fiction before this blog, but in an attempt to keep my mind busy and to cathartically document the baptism of fire that is parenting, I thought writing may help. I thought delving into the whole mummy blogger community may help, maybe I'd find solace knowing many others were facing the same things and loving/hating it in equal measure.

I was wrong.

The mummy blogging community is great, full of incredibly witty and honest parents with different styles and ways of expressing the same journey - no problems there. But the more I see of it and the more I read, the more I clam up and retreat. And that's a big warning sign to me.

I suffered through a few years of crippling anxiety about 8-10 years ago or so. I've since identified the cause and dealt with the issues that followed, but I'm still very aware of the warning signs of sliding back into that horrific, claustrophobic mindset that held me back for so long. As a natural introvert, it's really easy for me to just curl up, shut off and exist only in my head, something that ultimately becomes unhealthy. Some people that know me might be surprised by that, but believe me, I work very hard to try and balance that side of myself out and be sociable, amicable and even outgoing.

So when undertaking an activity like blogging, which not only exposes you - or the version of you that you're up for sharing - it creates a real focus around the subject you're writing about, and since my focus is usually on how difficult I find this whole baby thing, I've come to realise it's really not helping at all.

The Facebook and Instagram version of life isn't reality, I know that, and no one wants to see the real picture of me 95% of the time, complete with the tick-list of mum cliches - home alone, no make-up, sick/drool/shit on clothes/carpet/furniture, greying unwashed hair, endless household chores and a whingey, teething baby requiring constant attention or a meltdown forfeit. But still, for the blog I'll produce a pretty picture ('hashtag no filter!' LOL!) and everyone is allowed to go on thinking that it's all gummy smiles and milestone moments to get soppy over.

Ultimately, it all boils down to one thing for me - the thing I find the hardest about being a mum is losing my identity. That's it. Everything else I can cope with, but having no sense of who I am anymore very quickly leads me down that dark, twisty road into my head.

So I've put the brakes on and turned to face another direction, and I'm forcing myself to walk. I need to just get on with things as normal life, rather than analysing everything and focusing on how tricky it is, and how much guilt it's possible to feel for not loving every second and... you get it.

I'll carry on writing, but I think I'm going back to fiction. So thanks for reading, sharing and commenting, I'm glad it connected with some of you. And who knows, maybe you'll hear from me again, albeit in character and maybe even in print. Until then... over and out.

Parenting: the loneliness paradox

There is one thing that becoming a parent guarantees - you will never again be alone. Not really. Even if you manage to sneak a blissful solo trip to the loo, you're always hyper-aware that there's someone just a few metres away that needs you. Constantly. And usually right in the middle of whatever you're doing.

And yet there are many times since becoming a mum that I've felt the loneliest I've ever been in my entire life.

I'm a pretty independent person, I've always liked and been very happy in my own company. My favourite things outside of my job (which I also enjoyed) are largely solitary too - reading, writing, listening to music and staying fit. So when contemplating motherhood I figured maternity leave would be a dream scenario - all of my time, to myself and the baby, to do whatever I want with. Cracking. How sorry I felt for some people, especially Americans, who get almost no mat leave at all and are often forced back to work just weeks after giving birth.

Yes - I hear the experienced amongst you titter - I was THAT naive.

How utterly, utterly jealous I've felt of those American ladies since. And how utterly guilty and awful thinking that makes me feel, often to the point of tears. The Kraken is a wonderful little boy; noisy, but wonderful, and I wouldn't want a world without him. And yet.

As it turns out, just being in his company day after day after day can be incredibly lonely. It also turns out that all of the things I enjoyed doing by myself just aren't compatible with having a baby, let alone a very boisterous, inquisitive and opinionated one. Reading and listening to music - nope, concentration is shot, so they're out. Gym time - nope, haven't got the spare cash for membership anyway, but haven't found one yet with a semi-decent creche and someone I'd trust giving the Kraken to, and writing - what you see on this blog is all I've managed in six months.

So what about other mums? Don't get me wrong - I've met some great ladies, and made good friends, but even with regular meet ups throughout the week, at 2am when it's just you and a wailing baby, tiredness, stress and loneliness all join hands and dance around you in circles.

Even when it comes to my husband, despite being a brilliant dad and sharing as much of the work as is possible, ultimately he has a very busy job and long commute, so the heaviest part of the burden falls on me alone. In the end, I'm responsible for making sure the Kraken has enough and the right food, wears (mostly) clean clothes, is entertained and encouraged, naps well in the day and sleeps as much as possible at night in a relatively clean and tidy house. Sounds simple, but that takes up 95% of my day, and I'm alone for almost all of it. Shared parental leave would be a fantastic thing to take up, but in my industry, whilst jobs are enjoyable, wages are low and there's just no way we could live on my salary and statutory mat pay.

But look, this isn't a pity party. It's just a surprising realisation, and not one I'd ever imagined. However, there's one other thing I've also realised since this all began and it's currently getting me through every day. The phrase that every parent hangs onto and hates in equal measure.

It's just a phase.

And it is. Soon I will be back at work and probably wondering what the hell I was moaning about when I'm up to my ears in paperwork and meetings again, and even if I find myself on mat leave again in the future, that too will just be another phase, with another baby to juggle and even less time. (Is that possible?!)

So I'm going to be philosophical about it all. There's probably a Confucius quote in this somewhere, but bugger that. I'm too knackered. Now pass the wine.

Top 5 items that saved my sanity

*Note that no one has paid me to review these items - they're just things I love!

The first few months of parenthood are a like a giant slap in the face, so now the sting has just about worn off, I wanted to share my five very best buys - all of which saved my sanity, repeatedly. So, if you're a parent to be, or buying a gift for one, or even an old hand at the parenting stuff and just looking for inspiration - here's the list below. I've included the links just in case it helps...

1. Love to Dream Swaddle

The very first time we wrangled the Kraken into this, it worked. I cried. Big, fat, tired tears. This incredible (and super sweet) zip-up swaddle is the SOLE reason the Kraken started sleeping off me or my husband and on his own, for longer than 15 minutes. That night, for the first time in about seven weeks, I slept for longer than two hours. The Kraken felt so secure and bundled up that the chest-bed of mum or dad was no longer required, and we were FREE!

It's incredibly easy to use, even with a world-champion flailing Kraken-type, with a glorious zip rather than ruddy pop-studs or an old-fashioned swaddle wrap that can get kicked off in about 30 seconds. Such is my love for this swaddle that I even wrote a slightly overly-emotional love letter to Love to Dream, thanking them for saving my life. But I genuinely think they did.

[We bought ours from Jo Jo Maman Bebe]


2. The Perfect Prep Machine

This is the ultimate for bottle feeders - you'd be hard pressed to get a boob out quicker than this bad boy can whip up a fresh bottle of formula at exactly the right temperature. In the days of demand feeding in the night, being able to plug the Kraken's screaming maw with a warm bottle of milk in under two minutes was wonderful. I bow down to this machine every day, so if you're even considering bottle feeding, you need it in your life.

[Got ours at John Lewis]


3. Sophie the Giraffe

Long before the Kraken's first two teeth cut through last week (holy crap, now he's armed...), he was drooling and gnawing and whinging for weeks beforehand. Then we bought Sophie, and.... silence. A silence only punctuated with the soft sounds of little gums squeaking against Sophie's rubbery face, and satisfied little gurgles.

It doesn't matter which bit of Sophie ends up in their mouths, as every angle offers perfectly soft resistance for their painful gums. Essential.

[Another John Lewis job]


4. Skiphop Tree Top Baby Activity Gym

This mat has been used every single day since the Kraken was about 7-8 weeks old, when he deigned to let us put him down for more than ten seconds. From the days when he half-blindly, (almost) placidly just stared at the animals to the pulling/kicking/gripping/gnaw-fest of today, this mat has kept on entertaining him. He loves the mirror on the apple, the bell in the owl and the chewing the wooden ring on the bird... hell, the relatively boring squirrel even cracked him up for no apparent reason for a time. Plus- from a dull mummy perspective, I've washed it a dozen times and it still looks as good as new, and takes barely two minutes to set up or take down for travelling. Winner.

[You've guessed it... John Lewis]


5. Your Baby: Week by Week - Simone Cave & Dr Caroline Fertleman

You know how people say babies don't come with a manual? Rubbish. This is it. Does what it says on the tin - it tells you, week by week, exactly what to expect, plan for and do - in very nice, easy, bitesize chunks of text, almost as though the authors knew it would have to be accessible to desperate, exhausted, teary people with about three functioning brain cells left to call their own. Absolutely fantastic, very practical and I referred to it several times a week for the first few months, a must have.

[Got ours at good ol' Waterstones]

Perspective, people!

'Selfies are for losers, mother. I am trying to cut teeth over here. FML.' - the Kraken

So... Jamie-gate. Breast vs bottle. Cue judgy comments, bitching and spats across the whole interweb.

I am a touch opinionated *ahem* and for a while, really wanted to give my two-penneth worth. And then I decided not to because everyone had missed the point - including me. Sailed waaaaay past it whilst we argued and verbally bitch-slapped each other - and poor Jamie. He meant well but trying to lecture a bunch of sleep-deprived, hormonal women was never going to end well.

The point is, in my view, about doing your own personal best for your baby - however and whatever that is. It's going to play out differently for different people, as we all have different strengths, weaknesses, priorities and choices - just like pregnancy and labour - there are a million variations on the same scale, but ultimately nothing is right or wrong, just different.

At the heart of it is love for our children, and that's all that matters. End of. But it made me realise how easy it is to bitch and moan about each other and the parenting process, although GOOD GRIEF there are enough reasons why you would - so I wanted to list out some massive positives, because there are plenty. And because I like lists.

1. Worrying. I used to frequently attempt to give myself stomach ulcers worrying about anything from work issues to running out of coffee, and dear god what a waste of life that was. I still worry of course, but it's mainly about the Kraken - although the thought of running out of coffee is now genuinely terrifying. There's only so many times you can be covered in baby sick and frequently, accidentally flash the Amazon delivery man whilst breastfeeding and opening the door and still worry about small things. I genuinely worry less about life in general, and it's bloody great.

2. Relaxing. See above. I could not, for the life of me, relax before I had the Kraken. I thought it just wasn't in my nature, I had to be productive or DO something every waking second - exhausting. So now when I have a spare ten minutes to myself I find I can actually relax the shit out of it because I need to. (And before you point out the bleeding obvious, I find writing relaxing. So there.)

3. Body competitiveness. Women compare themselves to each other - it's just something we do, subconsciously or not. Before getting pregnant I worked out and ate well, and had a really decent figure. Then the Kraken starting baking and things changed, but I rolled with it because I was pregnant, and it's the one time you're legit allowed to be big and round. It's frigging expected.

But afterwards... that's tough. Unhelpfully, celebs with nannies and personal trainers 'pop back' into shape seemingly overnight, and leave the rest of us feeling really crap. I'm here to tell you that it is bullshit, and it often requires hard work and help to lose pregnancy weight, but more importantly, your body is different now, so there's no going back to before. Again, everyone's different but in my case I have: an extra 10kg still hanging around, stretch marks on my abdomen and thighs, wider hips, different-shaped boobs, a wider belly button, a dark linea negra (although fading) and many errr... internal changes that I won't darken your door with.

But you know what - it's not the be all and end all. I won't ever look like I did before, and I certainly can't compete with a 20 year-old or some pouty celeb type, but I don't have to. And ironically it's lifted the heaviest weight off me. Yes, I want to be healthy and lose some weight to fit into some of my wardrobe again and wear my wedding/engagement rings eventually, but I genuinely don't give rats ass about comparing myself to anything or anyone.

4. Laughing. The adage of 'if you don't laugh, you'll cry' is never more relevant than with a baby, but the fact that the Kraken makes me crack up (in a good way) at least once a day is the kind of comedy-gold happiness that I didn't have before. Admittedly I've also never hissed 'FML' through gritted teeth quite so much as I have in the last five months, but see below.

5. Patience. This is a skill - or attribute that I was not blessed with, at all. So every single scrap I now possess is down to the Kraken. It's been hard won, and at times I thought I might implode with the lack of it, but now I can deal with three simultaneous (literal) shit storms, a teething-related screaming match and a bottle lobbing incident whilst smiling. I know this because that, reader, is a summary of my afternoon. And the Kraken and I are both still alive.

So there we go - if I can be positive, anyone can. Let's get some perspective and keep it!

Home Truths #2: Ugly babies and gastro bugs

A four-week old Kraken as a wizened elf with a penchant for death metal.
Otherwise known as the photo that will force him to disown me.

There are two types of people in this world: the ones that will admit to having seen or met ugly babies and the ones that insist no baby is ugly, and that they're all beautiful in their own way.

I think we all know which camp I belong to.

1. Some babies are just ugly. Let's just be honest, it's true. I'm not trying to be cruel here, it's just a fact of life. I'm speaking from experience - I was a truly ugly baby. But here's the positive - mums never think this of their own kid, and so even though my mum would defend those pictures of me looking like a googley-eyed piece of chewed toffee to the death, everyone else knows the truth. The polite ones would mumble something about me having a nice, err... nose and then change the subject, but people lacking the ability to sugar coat would call it.

The point is: it doesn't matter. At all. Most newborns look like wizened old men to a degree (see above), but they'll soon grow out of it. Well, most of them. And in any case, if you're their mum, you won't see it anyway.

2. Labour really, REALLY hurts. Here's another truth from beyond the silent veil of parenthood, one that is shushed and softened to the uninitiated. I remember asking various parents when I was pregnant about whether it actually really hurt, and their responses included:

'It's different for everyone.'
'Yes - but you forget it very quickly.'
'Not really, it's kind of like intense period pain, but it doesn't last that long.'

I have three words to say to those parents. BIG FAT LIARS.

Now I understand that they were playing it down so I didn't freak out and waddle up to the hospital to demand an elective c-section, but I want to spell it out for anyone else out there that would really like to know the truth. If you don't, skip to number 3. In fact, skip this whole blog.

The closest description of the pain I experienced - and yes, I do appreciate that we all experience pain differently, but on closer inspection with other mums, it seems that the majority are in agreement with this - is like being hit repeatedly in the abdomen with a baseball bat, very hard and without mercy. Or being stabbed, over and over. I know it sounds dramatic, but it was. It was incredible. And I haven't forgotten it. Not even a tiny little bit.

And the most messed up part of the entire thing is that we're expected to try and do it without any pain relief. I mean...?! What the actual? What other incredibly painful major medical procedure would you be expected to endure without pain relief or anaesthetic?

And to the people that say 'well, women have been giving birth like that since the dark ages,' YEAH. I can tell. It was bloody barbaric.

Maybe it was because my labour was induced, and I'd already been having contractions for 36 hours before I 'caved' in and begged for pain relief that my experience was so negative, but I'm not alone.

The point is: there are no medals for bravery in labour. It's hard, painful and scary - and pain relief is a very sensible thing to have in that situation. If you can manage without - super. Good for you. If not - take the drugs, and take them all.

3. Caring for a baby when you're ill is hell. So about a week ago I woke up feeling sick. The first, literally gut-wrenching thought was that I might be pregnant again, followed by a groggy sprint to the bathroom to relieve my stomach of its contents. Delightful. After ruling out the pregnancy fears (I can not begin to describe the relief), I continued to throw up all morning. Six times, to be exact. My husband had to leave to attend a conference, so I spent the afternoon trying not to vomit over the Kraken - although revenge for the past five months was tempting - and actually gagging whilst changing his nappy. The remainder of the day was occupied by lying on the floor as he wriggled and drooled on the play mat, not even bothering to move when he shimmied over to my face and proceeded to chew enthusiastically on my chin whilst yanking fistfuls of my hair.

I'd have taken a photo for posterity - and this blog - but had long since forgotten the whereabouts of my phone, or the will to give a shit.

The point is: if you're that ill, don't let your husband leave to go to a conference. Or do, but make him take the baby.

4. Keep good friends and family around you. Although I'm now never alone at home, this whole process can be incredibly isolating. When the Kraken was very little, I was too scared/tired/broken to leave the house, and ended up feeling extremely miserable. My lovely husband was at work again, and although my parents have been utter angels and helped no end, day to day it was just me and the Kraken. This is where mummy friends have become utterly invaluable - and this from someone that enjoys her own company and maintained a borderline prickly level of independence before. I met a wonderful bunch of ladies through NCT classes, and the afore mentioned Dancing Gal has saved my sanity no end of times by helping me to laugh through the two hours a night sleep, rather than weep.

The point is: accept help. Even if you never have before. And make friends, even with the pretty ex-professional dancer ones that look like they've never given birth. They just might be one of the best things about having a baby.

'Just' a mum?

The Kraken: plotting world domination

'I'm not just a mum, I'm me too, and I was me long before I became a mum. I love my kids more than anything in the world, but as I lie here next to my sleeping child, I'm crying because I feel like a shitty mum for missing my old self.'

I'm paraphrasing here, but this is something I read in the last week on Facebook. It struck a chord to the extent that I replied, commenting how I often felt the same, hoping to make the author of the post feel less isolated. But instead, this happened.

'I know someone who'd give anything to be 'just a mum'.'

A reply from someone else - and it made me feel really angry. What followed were some very carefully chosen words from both myself and several others in defence of the original author, but at the time I couldn't quite nail exactly why it upset me so much.

Some days later I think I know why, and because I'm a pedantic weirdo I'm going to list it out.

1. By saying you're not 'just a mum' does not mean you don't love your child(ren). And it doesn't mean you wish you weren't a mum, or that others who're full-time, stay at home mums are lesser human beings. It means that some people enjoy doing a variety of things, and although being a mum is very time-consuming, fantastic, challenging, joyful, surprising and exciting thing - it's not necessarily the only thing some women want to do/be. AND THAT IS OKAY.

2. Before I had the Kraken, I would've given anything to be a mum too. It wasn't a straight-forward path for me to have him, so I know the struggle and heartache that can accompany the journey to having a baby. But the fact that many women struggle to have a baby doesn't mean that once you do, you can't miss your old self and life. They are two separate things.

3. I miss my old self too. Badly, some days. So badly that I sometimes wonder if I'm developing post-natal depression, or whether I should see a doctor. But the feeling always passes and I 'm happy and fine again, and put it down to the highs and lows of finding my feet in this new world. It's just such an odd world, and a small one sometimes, especially when the highlight of your day is a walk to the nearest supermarket. And you don't really need anything, except just to leave the house.

I guess the crux of it is that I don't have to justify wanting to do more than just be a mum to the Kraken. He totally and utterly fills my heart and hands, but my head needs more. The truth is, I love my job too - I work in publishing, and the ridiculously hectic and mentally stimulating environment keeps every single neurone busy, every second of the working day. And I love the people I work with, I've never had so many genuine friendships with lovely, brilliant people that I now miss dearly.

But would I swap back to my old life? Never. I mean, I'd love to fit back into the wardrobe of my old life, but not if it meant not having the Kraken. Take a look at that little face. Enough said.

So no, I'm not 'just a mum', I'm dozens of other things too. And that's just dandy.

Home Truths #1: The Roy Walker approach.

I'm a kid of the 80's and 90's, and watching Catchphrase every week was as normal as faxing someone, or Global Hypercolour t-shirts. But I found 'saying what you see' as per Roy's advice embarrassingly difficult. (And what was that creepy yellow robot thing called Mr Chips? Anyone?)

But more to the point, as I've got (a lot) older, I've found calling out the truth correspondingly easier. And when it comes to parenting, the truth becomes very murky. Everyone knows that once you have a baby you enter the chummy world of parents - but what the uninitiated don't realise is that you were never really told the truth before, just a very vague version of it, dressed up in baby showers and Instagram filters.

So I want to be honest. REALLY honest. If you're pregnant or sans kids then welcome, but be warned - I will tell no lies here, and although this is obviously just my opinion and experience of things, not one thing written below hasn't also been expressed by numerous other parents I know. If you already have kids, please accept this with a comforting hand on the shoulder and a knowing nod.

Here goes...

1. For every one Instagram-worthy pic there are dozens of fails.

R2-D2: Kraken style.

We all know that real life isn't a series of exciting events and filtered pics on social media, but sometimes when that's all you see, it's hard to remember. Inevitably you begin to feel like your life is incredibly dull and/or un-photogenic. NOT TRUE. I obviously think the Kraken is pretty cute, but I conservatively estimate that for every nice pic we've managed, there have been approximately 22 truly crap ones. Ones where the angle and his expression rendered him resembling Gollum, a missed dangling bogey, apocalyptic tears because I had the audacity to sneeze, a vomit smeared face and clothes... the list is endless.

The point is - social media, pics and videos are only ever the edited highlights. No one has the perfect child, or life.

2. Breastfeeding sucks. 

Literally. I suspect this subject could sustain a blog all by itself, and it won't be the last thing I have to say about it, but here's my two pence worth for now. I really, truly, hated breastfeeding.

There, I said it.

I'm not sure what I hated more - the raw, bloody red pain, crying when I realised the Kraken was hungry AGAIN for the third time in an hour, feeling too tired and self-conscious to leave the house and feeling like a prisoner, crying in the shower because the hot water stung like knives, wearing rank, unflattering nursing bras and leaking onto them and my clothes... the list goes on but includes more of the same, mostly tears-based. By far the worst part of the whole experience was the guilt and judgement laid at my door by others. Supportive, lovely family and friends who could see the damage it was doing to me and my relationship with the Kraken gently advised some formula, just to give me a break or more than 30 minutes sleep. I resisted, imagining the 'I'm-not-professionally-allowed-to-judge-you-but-I-am-massively-judging-you' expression I'd see on the faces of midwives and health visitors at the very least. I'd love to say I was wrong, and they supported my eventual decision to move to formula for my sanity, but even on two hours sleep a night, I saw it in their eyes and heard it in their voice. One health visitor ignored my tears and simply handed me a passive aggressive leaflet on the benefits of breastfeeding and told me to keep putting him on the breast if he was crying and still hungry. She told me this after I'd admitted that he'd spent the last three hours permanently attached to me, now drawing blood, not milk. If I could go back in time, I would give myself a slap, kick that cow out of my house, make up a bottle and finally fill the Kraken right up until he was happy. Something neither of us was for the first four weeks.

The point is - feeding your baby and maintaining your sanity are equally important. If breastfeeding works for you then awesome, but if not, formula feeding will do the same job. End of story.

3. When their sleeping habits improve, yours will be shot.

We had a breakthrough this week. The Kraken slept from 7 - 7 (with a dreamfeed at 10) for the first time ever, at the grand old age of exactly four months. 'Nice,' I hear some of you cry. Others will be calling me a bitch right now - and that's fine, I get it - but console yourself with this. He slept through, but I woke up at 1, 3, 5 and 6 because my own sleep pattern is buggered to high hell. So when the alarm went off at 7, it just felt like any other morning. Hideous.

The point is - you and sleep will continue to do battle for a veeeery long time to come. That is, until you retire and suddenly start waking up at 6 out of choice.

4. The guilt is constant.

As I type, the Kraken is next to me in his little seat, his patience rapidly thinning. His all-consuming love for hand chewing and lobbing toys on the floor has lost its shine. So as he begins to work a grumble into his customary roar, I can feel the guilt right now, this very second. Maybe I should be taking him to a class or doing something to further his educational development. Or maybe neither of us can stand sitting in decaying church halls with other wild-eyed mums singing incy wincy frigging spider.

Then there's all the gear you can buy for babies. Good grief - the list and the cost is endless. I see what some babies have, and there it is again... the guilt gives me a pinch on the arm and tells me I'm a bad parent, but frankly, he seems just as happy bashing the crap out of a wooden spoon on the floor as  a piece of brightly coloured plastic shit for the bargain price of £50.

The point is - give two fingers to guilt. As long as your kid is safe, warm, fed and gets some attention from you, Peppa Pig or the wooden spoon, it's all good.

5. You will pee yourself. At least once.

It's a sad fact ladies, but once a a baby bowling bowl has exited your body - or even before - it's extremely likely your pelvic floor will go into a massive sulk and down tools for a while. Do your kegel thingys by all means, but don't be shocked if you suddenly join the 'snissing' club. (Work it out. Or Google it.)

The point is - suck it up. It's a fact of life, and you're not alone. If a fellow mum says she hasn't, she's lying, without doubt. And if you really need, get your Tena on. No shame in that.