There is a lot of stuff I love about being a mother. Having
someone I adore no matter what and who loves me unconditionally. Having someone
to spoil, someone I can watch growing up. I love seeing her become a proper
person, with her own thoughts and ideas. I love having an excuse to go and
visit Father Christmas, and an excuse to cuddle up on the settee and watch
cartoons when it’s cold out! And I love seeing her eyes light up when she sees
me.
But, like most parents, there are things I don’t enjoy about
being a parent. Here are my top ten – I’d love to hear yours!
10. Losing friends who don’t have kids.
I have friends that I’ve know for years. We don’t see each
other that often but when we do catch up, it’s like we’ve never been apart. At
least, it was. Then Jess came along, and suddenly my nights out clubbing, going
to midnight cinema showings or chatting until the small hours became a snatched
hour after work and dashing home to relieve the babysitter, cancelling plans at
the last moment, and telephone calls interrupted by “Mummy! I need the toilet!”
I suppose we would have developed different interests over time anyway, but it
still seems a shame that I’m losing touch with people who were a major part of
my life for so long.
9. Animated films.
You know that great thriller that came out last month and
was an overnight hit? I don’t. If it’s not a kid’s film, then I haven’t seen
it. I’ve seen Ice Age 1, 2, 3 and 4 a hundred times and I can quote Tangled by
heart, but anything else is out. I could technically watch something when she’s
gone to bed, but to be honest, I’m too tired to concentrate by then! And while
animations can be good fun, by the fifty-first viewing the shine has worn off
them a bit.
8. Planning days out around toilet stops.
It’s a minor thing but once Jess was out of nappies, trips
became that much harder. Wherever we go, I have to note where the toilets are.
If we are on a car journey, you can guarantee that the minute we are stuck in
traffic or passing a sign saying ‘no services for x miles’, Jess will announce
loudly “Mummy, I’m desperate!” Ditto for seeing something like a circus or
settling down for a film. And I’ve lost count of the times I’ve been crouched
behind a tree holding Jess and hoping no passersby come to glare at us when
we’ve gone blackberry picking or for a walk in the woods.
7. “Hello Jess’s mummy.”
I no longer have a name. Jess has been at nursery /
preschool for three and a half years now. She changed to a new one a few months
ago but before that, she had been at the same one for three years. I took her
in most mornings, I picked her up most evenings. I chatted to the staff, I
learnt their names. So why can’t they learn mine? I’m not mad keen on ‘Mrs X’,
but it’s better than just ‘Jess’s Mummy’. I know they have lots of kids and
therefore parents to remember, but when I taught karate, I had over 250 members
and I knew all the kids, most of the parents, and half the aunts, uncles,
grandparents and assorted others who would drop the children off for their
class. I may be Jess’s Mummy but I do have a name – please use it!
6. I’m not allowed to be ill.
A few months ago, the whole family got flu. My partner lay
on the settee looking like death warmed up. Jess curled up in a ball
listlessly. I, however, went to the chemist for medicine, got groceries, cooked
meals, did the washing, dished out countless doses of flu treatment, warm
drinks, tissues, sympathy and hugs, and got up a dozen times a night to soothe
Jess. If you’re a mum, you lose the right to be ill in peace, particularly if
you dare to get ill at the same time as the rest of the family.
5. Being a packhorse.
When you are young and free, you go out with a tiny clutch
bag just big enough for your mobile, your keys, your credit card and your
lippy. When you have kids, you go out with a bag the size of a suitcase which
is stuffed with nappies, wipes, several changes of clothes, snacks, drinks,
extra bottles, Calpol, toys, tissues, sun cream, sun hat, gloves, nappy cream,
nappy bags, and several other things which you can’t work out why you would
possibly need them but know you’ll regret it if you leave them behind. If you
are really lucky, you might be able to squeeze in your keys. As they get older,
it gets slightly better but you still need so many changes of clothes, extra
snacks and favourite toys, that you really need a trolley to carry them all.
I’ve never forgotten being in a meeting at work, putting my hand in my bag to
find a pen and pulling out a nappy!
4. I am my mother.
I love my mum, of course I do, but I have no wish to become
her. However, it seems like it’s too late. I hear myself saying the exact same
things my mother says: be careful, you’ll hurt yourself, because I say so, sit
nicely, in a minute, the list goes on and on. I even use some of her facial
expressions and several times lately family members have said “Oh, I thought
you were your mother”. I’ve cut my trademark long hair because it’s not
practical and I no longer paint my nails because the upkeep is too high. I’m
the one that has to be sensible, that has to tell Jess that it’s bedtime, that
has to ask my partner not to get her over-excited, the one dressing her in
sensible clothes and ensuring she eats properly. As mothers go, I’m pretty
lucky if I’m turning into mine I suppose, but does anyone really want to become
their mothers?
3. Pregnancy.
Some women bloom in pregnancy. A friend once told me that if
raising children was as easy as pregnancy, she’d have 50 kids. Her skin glowed,
she was full of energy, she relished every second. Not me. I had every
unpleasant symptom going. Hyperemesis (constant morning sickness and yes, I
mean constant. Forty times a day. I lost two stone in two months.) SPD. Spotty
and itchy skin. Lank hair that fell out in patches. Crippling heartburn.
Brittle nails. Eventually I even developed HELLP syndrome, which can be fatal.
“Ah,” I hear you say, “but wasn’t it amazing when you felt the baby kick?”
Nope. It felt like an alien in my stomach, every time she kicked I felt sick.
Of course it was all worth it in the end, but the ‘joy of pregnancy’? Not so
much.
2. Boredom.
I’m sure there are parents who live for playing make-believe
with their children. They are probably the same parents who throw themselves
into soft-play, look forward to days out at kiddy theme parks and can’t wait to
go to the park and push their children on the swings for hours. I envy them. It
must be nice to enjoy the same things as your kids.
I do look forward to taking Jess out because I love seeing
her so happy, but I find most of the activities she enjoys interminably dull. I
tend to take a book with me and while she’s playing I sit reading and calling
out the occasional word of encouragement or caution. When she’s playing at
home, I’m cooking or browsing the net or ironing. I feel rather guilty that I’m
not down on the carpet playing cars with her or dressing her dolls but she’s
happy enough playing at my feet, and I do feel that entertaining herself is an
important skill to learn, especially as she’s an only child. Every now and then
I’ll feel bad enough to grab a blanket and suggest we make tents, but I always
feel that Jess would actually be happier if I left her to it!
1. Sleep.
There is a reason sleep deprivation is used as a form of
torture. When you’ve slept well everything is easier to cope with. Tantrums are
one of life’s little annoyances, a broken down car is a minor nuisance, and a
large bill is just one of those things. When you haven’t slept properly for
weeks, spilt milk can be the end of the world.
As a baby, Jess wasn’t a great sleeper. She had one whole
month where she wouldn’t sleep for more than thirty minutes at a time, day or
night. I was a zombie. I was working at the time and more than once I fell
asleep at my desk. Somebody only had to look at me to reduce me to tears. I
remember sobbing over Jess’s cot and yelling “What do you want from me?” before
walking around the garden to cool down. And this was with one kid, how on earth
do people manage with twins?!
Thankfully we got through it – Jess started sleeping through
soon after and I managed not to have a nervous breakdown. But it was a close
run thing.
Now of course I can look back on it calmly (at least until
Jess has a bad night which still happens from time to time). And I have a couple
of words of advice. If you are lucky enough to have a child that sleeps
through, don’t boast to your less fortunate friends. Gloat quietly if you must,
but don’t sit there beaming and saying smugly “well Annabella slept through at
two days old” while your more unfortunate friend falls into an exhausted coma.
If you want to help, do so. Don’t make vague offers, take the initiative – turn
up, look after the baby, and send your friend to bed. If you are the one with
the sleepless child, be open to trying anything and everything and don’t beat
yourself up for using techniques you never thought you’d resort to. Controlled
crying, rapid return, feeding to sleep, co-sleeping – if something works for
you, go with it. Sleep whenever possible. There is nothing wrong with going to
bed at 6pm if the baby is settled – it isn’t forever. And if all else fails,
keep telling yourself: this too shall pass.
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