or “you know it’s traumatic to a baby when her mum ignores her crying” I was like, “yep… I’m a child abusing, over protecting huge fuck up that should die. I would dispute them with facts, kind of like the way keyboard warriors love a good ‘statistic’ I’d be like “Well I researched and early anxiety in children is actually linked to….. and not….. (note that I have gaps because I cant for the life of me remember what any of these facts are now) Come my forth baby and people would say “Oh no you cant burp him in that position, its proven to force the gas back down creating bubbles of baby gas fart bombs inside the third chamber of the left compartment of the large intestine and make his reflux worse.” And I just stare back and finally say “Thank you, thank you so much.”
2) My lack of social life. I used to enviously watch on from my computer screen (I didn’t get an iPhone until my second baby) Covered in sour milk while Bill went out with the boys and sent me a text telling me how much of a great night he’s having and how I ‘should check out this new bar in town’ while I felt like a loser with no friends and no nice clothes and no reason to wash the yellow baby shit out of my hair, old before my time. Now days I’m still at home with my children, Bill has joined me though and I see other peoples boyfriends getting tagged in pictures, at new bars, out with the boys while their girlfriends are at home with new babies and the realisation hits me, they are the losers. Missing once in a life time moments for another night out that will eventually all blur into one.
3) Stuff, stuff upset me when I had my first baby. We lived in a tiny flat and my new baby was sharing a room with my step daughter and we couldn’t afford to buy a cot so I had to ask around and borrow one from a friend of my mums ex boyfriend. Id go to friends houses and they had everything from designer nappy bags to top of the range baby bouncers that looked like NASA had beamed them down from space. Ive never been materialistic in my life, something about having my first baby made me feel like I needed stuff. If Im getting thrown food at by a small arsehole it just seemed to pack a bigger punch that the highchair was a second hand $24 ikea one, surly hurled mash felt ok from a $300 brand new one? I had a $500 car that rarely started, once I had a friend’s new girlfriend walk me and my baby to our car and she couldn’t believe it was mine… “Hang on? Aren’t you supposed to get a Prado when you have a baby? Like… this isn’t even safe? if you crashed and shit this thing would disintegrate”
Me “yeah… lets call Bill and tell him to grab me a Prado on his way home and shit… cos its that easy and like me and the baby are gonna die on our way home if you dont… and shit..”
By the time I had my forth baby I had lost my drive for stuff, the twins live in hand me downs and I have a firm belief that owning an expensive car won’t make my life anymore satisfying. We do have more then we did back then, it doesn’t necessarily make me a happier person, I will always find an excuse to complain, thats my skill.
At one point I wanted a thermomix, because everyone told me it would make my life easier. I opted for the cheaper version, the Bellini. As suspected I used it 3 times and its now a constant remember of how little cooking I do. Basically if I was to pay over 2k for an appliance it would want to cook from scratch, wash my dishes and give my husband a blow job once the kids were asleep.
Stuff breaks, it gets old and to be honest it just doesn’t inspire me. Holidays do, cocktails on holidays are my kind of stuff.
Most of all, when I had my first child I feared women. I knew that they had been doing this longer then me, like when you start a new job and all the old experts are watching the way you do things and sometimes even laughing while you fumbled your way through unknown territory awkwardly trying to look fluent, adequate, unique.
I thought that was what joining this cycle of mothers was, so I kept my distance and did my own thing and subsequently it became the loneliest time of my life.
Come my 3rd and 4th child I now know, not that I am adequate or that I am now the expert, now I know that it doesn’t matter how many babies you have your never an expert on anything but your own journey…. and even thats a stretch… I have 4 kids and I have no idea what the answers for your baby’s latest issue is, but I love chatting about them and working out what the fuck we are all going to do and bitch about our husbands pretending to have the parenting capacity of a drunk horse and make each other food (un pack each others take away). My fear of having to compete with other mothers went when I realised, that there is no competition at all, just a whole pile of glorious Queens wondering why the fuck there is shit in our hair and who we have become.
4) My first baby I feared other women, by the forth I knew I wouldn’t survive without them.
Love Con xxx