A while back, I wrote an informative piece on eight of the biggest changes since motherhood. Clearly being a bit previous with its publication, I have thought of several more. So, here for your gratification, is the original piece with an additional eight, and to save myself from further embarrassment, I’ll add a disclaimer that this list is not exhaustive and will likely be added to on a regular basis as my life continues to devolve into chaos. Enjoy.
Obviously, there are a multitude of things that are just not the same after Vaginal Destruction Day, some quite surprising in fact. Like my new found hatred for fireworks. I used to really enjoy them before VDD; perhaps that’s because they only seemed to appear on one day a year. However, since having children, they seem to have exploded onto the scene from October until the New Year with their constant threat of waking sleeping children. Thank you wanky cheap imports.
Clock changes. Getting the extra hour in bed. Oh, it was heavenly. Now, it’s just utter torture knowing that your 6am, four year old alarm clock will now be jumping on your head at 5am.
However, there are sixteen (and counting) major things that are just not the same for me anymore.
# 1. Makeup.
How the feck did I have time for shit like blusher? Get the black bags hidden. Do I look less like death? Yes. Fuck it, just get out the house.
Has the flow changed, or just the flow outlet? Who knows, but there’s carnage every 28 days.
#3. Body hair.
This is a conversation I had with my four year old daughter the other day:
4yo: What are you doing?
Me: I’m putting my deodorant on.
Me: Because when you’re a grown up, you need to use it to stop being so sweaty and smelly.
4yo: Does it make your hairs smell nicer?
Me: Did your Dad put you up to say that?
My underwear drawer is possibly the most depressing place on Earth. But, it’s sooooooo damned comfortable.
#5. My brain.
Who are you? What am I writing about? Have I eaten today? Shit, I think I’ve just wet myself.
I have a new found strength as a mother. I can wrestle an inhumanly strong toddler into his trousers, his high chair and his car seat. But only using my left arm. The baby bicep. You pick a hip and stick to it meaning that one arm constantly bears the weight until you have just one ridiculously strong arm which then comes into it’s own when overbearing the strength and will of an outraged child.
#7. Lie ins.
Fuck off end of British Summer Time.
I don’t know whether it’s just me, but I spend my life yearning for a wake up time that doesn’t begin with the number 6, but when I do get the chance of a lie in, I lay there awake. I just stare at the ceiling listening to the screams and mayhem from down stairs and can’t close my eyes. Either that or I’m writing a novel in my head.
I am fully aware of my unusually large big toe. However, it can always be made more beautiful with a splash of colour. Now my husband doesn’t know whether it’s my leg hair or toenails causing the lacerations to his lower body in bed. That, or we’re stuck together like velcro because of the sheer amount of body hair between us.
#9. Bath time.
Bath water seems to possess similar qualities to holy water; my children scream as if being burnt alive like tiny demons. Unless I’m in it. Then bath time consists of :
a) staring at the furry animal between my legs for an inaudibly long time to ensure it isn’t going to bite them.
b) being water boarded.
c) orifice violation.
d) husband taking a dump.
My ability to use three syllable words seems to have vanished. Along with my ability to say the word, “dead,” without shuffling uncomfortably, coughing loudly and changing the subject immediately onto rainbows and unicorns.
Coats, dressing gowns, trousers; if there is a pocket on a garment, it will be brimming with random floor pickings that make no sense whatsoever but still don’t quite make it to the bin.
#12. Carbon footprint
Three hour daily drives for ‘nap time’ + house full of plastic tat that will never decompose + washing machine that only gets turned off when it explodes + every light in the house being left on + the use of AA batteries increasing 400 fold = death to the earth.
#13. Facebook Profile Pictures
Faux-ejaculate Binge Drinker to Earth Mother in just a few clickety clicks. No-one with ever suspect you’re rocking in a corner, flicking your teeth, whilst secretly plotting the murder of your snoring husband.
Disney songs and nursery rhymes now infiltrate my brain like an infection. Every day, I end up punching myself in the face after driving all the way to work listening to the some Disney shit when I could have been listening to anything else. ANY. THING. FFS.
“Husband, when is the next gap in the diary between after school activities, weekend activities, birthday parties, earning an actual living, charity fundraising, clearing out the loft and buying more unnecessary pets? 2056? Okay, I’ll book Derek and Pamela in then.”
#16. Me time.
Wisdom tooth removal? Smear test? Ingrowing toenail excision? When can you fit me in?
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