This isn't for you.

* A new introduction...

So I first wrote this post back in November 2015, not long after the birth of my first baby, Thomas, otherwise known as The Kraken. I'm pretty impressed that I managed to string a sentence together at that point, but I didn't get round to putting the blog up or doing anything with it, partly because I wasn't sure anyone would care and partly because life becomes a sometimes hideous cycle of wiping up vomit, poo and wee (the Kraken's, mainly) and I just forgot if I'm honest.

Now the Kraken is a touch older and I occasionally* get more than 10 minutes alone to myself, I decided to put down the inner monologue that runs through my head down on screen. So read on if you're interested, and don't if you're not. There's so much stuff online to flit around to after all, I still check out the Daily Mail's sidebar of shame and lust after John Lewis homeware most days... but I digress.

* I realise by writing this I've likely just invoked the law of sod and will never again be able to write. In which case, enjoy this post. It may be the only one.

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This really isn't for you.

It's for me. Pretty much the only thing as it turns out. Even I gave an eyeroll at the idea of another mummy blogger, so just wanted to set things straight from the get go - great as it is having a newborn, I still have a brain (just) and in between the incessant feeding, winding, bum wiping and weeping (more me than the baby) - I needed something to do for myself. But delighted if you want to join me for the ride.

Firstly, I'm not a sugar-coater. And I make up words and occasionally offend the grammar police. Deal with it. Secondly, what the actual hell is this whole having a kid thing about? Seriously?!

No warnings prep you for this - none. Whatever you think parenting is - it's not. It's a whole lot MORE. More of everything - intense, time-consuming, worrying, amazing, tiring, confusing and a load of other ings.

I'm actually still trying to process the last few weeks, and think this potentially sums it up:

Week One: Carnage. If I simultaneously plug a boob into their mouth, pat their back and wipe their bum, will that stop the crying? What do you want, tiny person? Will I break you by accident? What was that noise? Are you still breathing?

Week Two: Two in 24. I'm regularly coping on two hours sleep a day. This from an eight hour a night minimum kinda gal, with lie-ins on the weekends and the odd granny nap in the day during holidays. I am actually in physical pain from the lack of sleep.

Week Three: Outside. Will I ever make it outside on my own again? Will everyone notice the sick in my hair and down my back? Was that a tiny little smile... Or just wind? Oh you're so gorgeous, how did we ever live without you? Why won't you sleep? Please bloody sleep!

Week Four: Calm(er). What's that? Almost 2pm? Quick - make up a bottle ready, T minus 5 minutes until the Kraken awakes. Was that the first time you didn't scream on the changing table? I've totally nailed using this pram... Including the rain cover - score. But why can't I steer the damn thing straight on the pavement? Is information retention on a one in, one out basis now? I can settle the boy to sleep but have totally forgotten how to use the intermittent wiper setting in the car. Why brain, why?

Week Five: I'll let you know. Thus far it's included potential colic, M&S choc box selection for breakfast, first weigh-in at the doctors (for the boy, not me, thank Christ) and a magic swaddle. It's shaping up well.

Now... back to parenting. *adopts the brace position and flings self headlong into madness*

See you at 4am.