Before Parenthood (BP): Intelligent discussions about politics, films and how much booze I had consumed at the weekend.
After Parenthood (AP): Comfortably discussing bowel movements with people I’ve only just met; my own and my children’s. Regularly taking photographs of the toilet beasts produced by children that only live on breadsticks, raisins and cheese. Needing a faecal update at every opportunity to help keep the poo anxiety at bay.
BP: Suffering from bed ache after spending far too long in bed.
AP: Suffering from sleep anxiety and graduating as a senior member of the Noise Police which involves wanting to kill my husband for tripping over what sounds like a mountain of tambourines, anyone with fireworks, the postman, aircraft, twatty teenagers on 50cc scooters and barking dogs*. (I am exempt from this as the noise I accidentally make is an accident.)
*Fully aware this will change when I have my own twatty teenager.
BP: Eating out in places called restaurants, fluctuating wildly between high end cuisine and Frankie & Benny’s.
AP: Suffering food anxiety as I rotate between four main accepted meals of frozen beige, pasta beige, rice beige and bread beige. Occasionally pinning them down to pump an Ella’s Kitchen pouch down their necks like a foie gras goose and secretly hoping the tomato sauce on the pizza counts as 1 of their 5 a day.
Oh, to be a mother like the ones I saw in all the magazines.
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