It’s a normal day.
The baby wakes at 5am – that’s morning time according to your little one. It doesn’t matter that technically they only just went to bed about two hours ago.
It’s time to feed (again), change nappies, get the washing on, figure out breakfast, possibly squeeze in 10 minutes of shuteye and attempt to do at least one job on the to do list from hell.
You attempt to wash while the baby screams on the floor at your feet. You apply make-up, but in a bit of a rush so it looks less like the easy, breezy natural look and more like the scary clown look.
Now you need to get the baby ready. Nappy changed, babygro on, pram suit on, bag packed and double checked. As you take one foot out of the door you watch a whiff of something all too familiar.
The toxic green poo has gone through the clothes. Standard.
Changing everything feels like it takes forever when you’re already running late. Plus now you have the toxic green poo on the sleeve of your top.
You leave the house, more than a few minutes late, and dash off to meet a friend.
You smile and say hello as you find your seat. They coo and gush over the baby, then turn to you and take in your expression.
“You look happy,” they say.
And you nod along and maybe make a joke about lack of sleep before chatting away about baby life and how nice it is to be able to meet for coffee on a weekday instead of going to work.
It’s only later, when the baby wakes up at 10pm signalling another long and frustrating night that you let the tears fall. By this point you’re all alone. No one can see that actually you’re not happy at all. Far from it. You’re totally overwhelmed.
Motherhood feels like a never-ending treadmill that you cannot step off of. It’s exhausting because not only are you running to keep up as if your life depended on it, but you’re also having to juggle a whole fuck ton of other stuff you need to do as well.
And yet we rarely complain. We often feel like we don’t want to whinge. Or we feel like we should be bloody grateful to have a baby at all.
How many times has someone assumed you’re totally fine?
Most of the time it’s true. Women have the babies for a reason, it’s because we are made of tough stuff.
However sometimes, whether it’s a phase lasting a day, a week or even several months, we feel utterly in over our heads.
And yet we don’t speak up, because really we don’t want to bang on about how impossible all this feels. We’re not even sure how to come out with the words.
Motherhood is all a bit of an act you see.
We act like we know what the fuck we are doing.
We act like we have it all together.
We act like we don’t feel pretty pissed off with our kids some days.
We act like we are blessed, because to not do so may seem as if we are ungrateful.
If this seems at all familiar, know that you are not alone on the stage.
I’ve acted my way through so many play dates and coffee meet-ups that I deserve a bloody Oscar.
It’s OK not to feel OK. But it’s not OK to suffer in silence.
Speak up. Tell a friend. Tell a colleague. Tell a family member. Tell me (I’m always online, believe me!).
Have a whinge, have a moan, have a bloody good rant. Just let it out.
I can guarantee that you are not the only mama having a crappy day right now.