First time mum/referee/ sleeve snot wiper to a wild toddler. Designated household bum changer. Blogging about this motherhood malarkey from a refreshingly honest and unfiltered perspective.

To the eyes I feel on my back..

To the eyes I feel on my back right now,

As my son screams with relentless frustration, I know what you presume. I feel your stares, your eyes boring into my skin. The same, inane assumptions circulating in your mind. I hear your tuts, sense your distaste.

You bank on your own preconceived belief that his needs are not being fulfilled and that is why he bellows tears. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm irresponsible. "Kids having kids," I hear you mutter in a snide remark.

Not in fact, because he's teething, because he's overtired and is fighting sleep. Your go to assumption is that I'm struggling. That I'm too emotionally immature to handle the responsibility that comes with being a parent. That I've got no clue what I'm doing.

Little do you know, that we spend all day laughing together (with the unavoidable tear intervals).
That he is my one and only priority. I spend every minute of every day attending to his needs. My entire focus is making sure he is happy and healthy.

The frowns, the scrutinizing stares are not there to watch me tuck him into bed each night and spend hours marveling at his perfect little face. Still wondering how I created something so pure.
The peering glares, the eye rolls didn't see me spend several hours a day, dead on my feet with exhaustion, rocking him in my arms to soothe his unrelenting colic.
The silent judgments will never fathom the love I have for him, the moments we spend playing, laughing, enjoying every wonderful second.

Just looking at my appearance, you've already cast your judgement. Peppered with this frivolous stereotype that I am simply incompetent. Too young, too foolish. My life had only just begun. What a waste.
When you see me looking flustered and a little overwhelmed, you jump to the conclusion that I'm not coping. That I 'can't handle' my child. That it obviously wasn't planned. 

Yes, I'm a young mum and of course, I do struggle at times, just like any other parent of ANY age because it's hard work. There are times where I find it overwhelming and a little hard to cope. I'm still figuring it all out and learning as I go. No one tells you how hard it's going to be. How much your life is going to change and change, it does.
For the better.

My nights have gone from wild weekends to bedtime wars. Pubs to playgroups. Netflix binging to Cbeebies re runs but some of the best damn moments in my life happened with Arthur, BECAUSE of Arthur.

Having him at 20 meant we met a little earlier but it also meant we would have each other for longer, that we can experience so many wonderful times together. Sure, there are opportunities I've let slip me by, nights out I've turned down, places I've not traveled, but there's still time. I don't feel like I've missed out.

Quite frankly, I'm bored of the snarky comments, the disapproving looks. This cavalier attitude society have towards young parents. It's bullshit. I'm tired of gritting my teeth through the snide passing comments. The grimaces as you conspicuously dissect my parenting capability based on my apparent features. I'm tired of this dismal feeling like I have something I'm supposed to prove or that there are expectations I need to acquire before I can be considered a "good" mum. Stop surmising, stop assuming and don't ever think for a second that I don't strive to give my son the best in life.

My life, by the way, is in fact not over, it has only just begun.

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