First time mum/referee to a wild toddler. Self confessed rum enthusiast. Aspiring writer but hell of a procrastinator. Blogging about Mental Health and this motherhood malarkey from a refreshingly honest perspective.

I Wouldn't Change a Thing.

Sometimes, I feel how I come across on my blog may lead to particular assumptions or opinions about me and something I don't want is people to misinterpret who I am as a person and as a mother.

My blog is simply a glimpse into my life as a mum.
I have shared a lot since starting this blog and I have always chosen to be relatively honest and as open as I possibly can be on my first year as a parent and the struggles with my own personal battles because the truth of it is that it's not easy. It's not the filtered photo published on Facebook, the lies behind the screen of the truth.


The reality is that I find it overwhelming at times. The reality is that I'm overcome with self doubt. The reality is that I find it the loneliest thing in the world. The reality is that I'm still trying to conquer my own battles whilst being the best mum I can be. The reality is that being a parent is the biggest blessing but the hardest task to conquer. The reality is that it's all nothing like I imagined it would be.
The reality is that it's magically exhilarating.

I don't want to paint an illusion or sugar coat the truth. I think the pretense of it all is draining and I'm a big fan of frankness and candor.

The last year of my life has been one big spiral of highs and lows and there are certain feelings, fleeting thoughts I am not proud of. 
The immense guilt for that time I had the heinous thought of, if only I could have this life but a few years from now and felt that instant smack in the face disgust for conjuring such an idea.
But also the fiction in the words themselves and the calm that followed knowing that I would never wish for anything but my son. Over and again. Every time.
The regret for the time I yelled, "fuck sake Arthur what am I supposed to do here?" on that day he was so inconsolable I figured he was probably just broken and I was doing it all wrong and just really wasn't cut out for the job anymore.
Regret at my frustration on the sleepless nights, teething spells and separation anxiety. 

I feel to those who don't know me, may assume I have regrets. That I don't want to be a parent. That I probably don't have the right material that make up the role as mum of the year.

To be quite frank, I am a little bit shit at it. I am most certainly far from the perfect mum and you'll never see my name engraved on a plaque for super mum.
I have wrestled with my doubts at my parenting ability for quite some time, more so over the last few months.

Why don't I have more patience?
How have I gone from feeling like Mother Teresa to that irresponsible drunk aunt at the wedding?
Why did no one tell me it would be this hard!? 
Why is he crying again?
Shit, it's really boring at times, isn't it?
Why is it so lonely?
WHEN DOES IT GET BETTER?
HELPPP!!!!

Never did I anticipate I would be doing this parenting roller-coaster solo. It was not what I pictured my life to be like. In fact, it was the opposite. I desperately wanted to be the Christmas jumper mum who really had her shit together and had the house perfumed with the scent of freshly baked cookies. I longed for family meals and happy chatter singing round the table every night. I craved that love you read about but never thought existed, that your kids admired and hoped it was something they would have one day. 


Yes, they are days when I'm crying out for a break and I'm exhausted from having a child literally clutching to my leg for dear life. When I just can't deal with this shit. Where I curse the words, 'for fuck sake' more than anything else. When all I want is the day to end and to piss alone. When I imagine a life parallel to my own. How I dream of days that involve actual intellectual conversations with other adults and not compilations of Cbeebies shows and lonely nights spent falling asleep in front of the TV to drown out the screaming silence of it all.

But, I would wish for nothing else. I'd rather the 6 am morning rises than a 12 pm lie in with no baby babbles humming through the house. I'd prefer to spend the day listening to piercing wailing than be deafened by nothingness. I would choose the baby snuggles over the nights out not remembered.

I would not change my life or my son for anything in this world. And I would do it all a thousand times over to have his wonderful little soul as my son.
It is one of the hardest but most rewarding things I have ever done.

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