Recently, one of my oldest & dearest friends gave birth to her first baby, a beautiful little girl. Cue the excitement. Finally it was my turn for baby cuddles & then handing the darling back when the fun was over. Oh the joy! I’ve waited years for this.
10 years ago, when my world had done the hugest 360. I had a newborn, was living on no sleep, had bleeding nipples and didn’t know my asshole from my nose, this friend used to come and take Master 10 out for a walk. She would tell me to take a long shower, 14 seconds (on a good day) had become the norm, so this was heaven. I would wash my hair, find clean clothes that didn’t have crusty baby vomit on them and put some make up on.
This made me feel so good. So normal.
I clearly still cared back then.
Eventually they would both return and she would have lunch for us.
That hour or so by myself saved my sanity.
I have thanked her many times over the years, but I’m certain she doesn’t know just what a big deal that was for me back then.
I have waited 10 years to repay this extraordinary favour.
I’ve never been fussed with diamond cuts or Spring/Summer fashion like a lot of girls I know, but babies are totally my thing.
I couldn’t wait to be there for her.
I’ve dropped off meals. Had the pleasure of bathing her beautiful baby while she cooks her dinner. Basically I hog her baby every time I visit. And I love every second.
But what I’m really waiting for is to babysit. I want her to go & spend some time by herself.
Do for her, what she did for me.
The currency of Motherhood. Alone time.
She recently text me and asked if I would mind watching bub while she went & got a wax. This turned into joking about getting back on the horse, which we’ve been doing for months. And then she said “No babe, I just feel like I want to start putting some effort back into myself so I feel good”.
Wow. Given she’s a first time Mum, I felt like this was the kind of advice that I should be giving her, not the other way around.
It hit me.
I am so deep into Motherhood that I’ve forgotten what feeling good is like. Unless it involves watching my children achieve & smile, or paying off that pesky lingering bill.
I have forgotten how it feels to feel good about me.
I have forgotten how putting a little effort in makes me feel about myself.
It’s gone. And it didn’t leave a forwarding address.
These days, to me, effort is a mum bun, mis-matched clothes & the Fatherships thongs.
Shoes, not underwear. Fuck underwear.
Right now I own two bras. One has the underwire poking out the sides which sticks into my underarm and the underwire in the other has snapped in the middle so it sticks into my left tit and bloody cains.
I need to buy myself a new one, I know this.
But gas bills, car payments & new $80 shoes for Master 7 felt far more important. He has a pet caterpillar that ranks higher on our family food chain than I do right now. This is no one else’s fault but my own. This has to change.
Admittedly I’ve never been the girliest girl. I would much prefer that extra 20 minutes in bed every morning than going to school drop off with make up on. 0 fucks. That’ll never be me. And it doesn’t have to be.
It’s not that I don’t care about my appearance, it’s just that life with 3 children has pushed it completely off my radar. I feel like my time is much better utilised when I’m doing something for my family.
Washing clothes, cleaning toilets, preparing meals.
You know the drill.
Standing in front of a mirror worrying about how I look feels like a waste.
What’s the point?
Today I realised, I’m the point.
A round point with way to many grey hairs.
But a vital point.
Nothing will change, unless I do.
Today the Fathership returns.
He has always loved me for exactly who I am.
Hairy vadge, flappy tits & all.
Sometimes I wish he’d tell me to run my fat ass around the block. But I know he never would. Not once has he ever commented negatively when he walks through the door & I’m wearing my pj pants, his jumper with toddler snot on the sleeve, greasy hair that hasn’t been washed in weeks & one Minnie mouse sock on my foot.
But I know it would be a sight.
Today, I shaved my legs..
I washed my hair..
Trimmed the hairy monster..
I brushed the knots out.. Of both areas..
I put on trousers that weren’t pyjama bottoms..
I moisturised my face..
I put some make up on..
I squirted myself with the perfume I’ve had for 2 years, that was a gift..
And I went and brought myself a new bra.
But it felt good. I felt good.
And what a good feeling that is.
A little effort can go a long way. X