I think I’m seen as one of those girls…ok women, that copes. I think a default position in other people’s minds when stuff is thrown at me is that I’ve ‘got this’.
This morning I didn’t. Whatever it usually is that I’ve got, I forgot. It went out of the window.
While some of my NCT pals rejoiced in it being the weekend and therefore daddy daycare/night shifts kicking in to give the mammas some much, much needed time off, I was home alone again in the morning as John left mega early to go work on our house extension.
Now of course wowzers, I am so lucky to have a situation where by and large my other half is around on balance probably more than a dad with a ‘normal’ 9-5 but with the extension project (caveat: eternally grateful for and thankful that hubs is working his arse off on that when he’s tired too) and him prepping for his real job too plus all his other plans and dreams, how can I expect more help? Yet I crave it at times.
I have no real reprieve to look forward to each week like perhaps other new mums do as we don’t have set work hours in this household. Yes I get moments, where if I ask, a feed is done by hubs or he’ll bath her and settle her in her cot. But from say around 3am to 10pm most days I am in charge and *mostly* in control and love love love it. But there are times when it is all just a crescendo of shit, sick, a barking dog, me needing a wee, shrill cries from a baby whom I only ever want to soothe, wet washing that hasn’t been taken out of the machine, no clean glasses to have a drink out of etc etc. You get the picture.
I’m currently sat here breastfeeding my babe who has been so unsettled this morning. She’s only had a 10 minute nap.
I’m looking out into the kitchen where there are packed carrier bags full of shopping I haven’t been able to put away. At two rubbish bins absolutely overflowing. And at the bowl of oats my husband left out for me this morning as he does most mornings, which I thank him for every day.
The dog is upset because I shouted at him. I’ve managed to wash my hair but not do anything with it. My makeup is half done. And I have a friend I haven’t seen in years coming to visit in an hour and a half. Which incidentally I’ve been really looking forward to but I just need an hour to myself to feel ready. Just an hour. Just me.
An hour ago the grocery delivery man turned up as I was trying to get baby into a gentle snooze upstairs. Rupert was going mad at the top of the stairs. And baby was crying so hard as she wrestled with tiredness. I was rocking her while trying to locate the FUCKING KEYS to let grocery man in. Yep, another squat up and down to retrieve them from the floor in our bedroom. A squat that I don’t need just now because no lie, my body is killing me. I’m going to write about that this week, time being kind.
And there on the floor the shopping resides. Including the frozen bits.
It’s not always like this. Some days everything aligns and we rock it, baby and I. So I try not to get too worked up on the days where we don’t. But I have moments where I look skywards and just take a huge gulp of air in so that I don’t cry.
Her and I are such a good team. I smile and she then smiles back at me. And I’m reminded that even though I’m worried about the state of the downstairs loo, I’ll get to that in a second. Maybe.
New mums need help. There is no ‘village’ anymore. You know, the ones back in the day that apparently helped you raise your child. You can throw money at it sure. But *I* want to look after my baby. I just also need a little looking after. A genuine, invested ‘how are you?’
I know the rest of the day will work out. And tomorrow will probably be different again. But this morning has been so tough. And it’s only 11.50. Apart from say an hours sleep I snuck in from 6-7am I’ve been awake since 3.30am. Already done a working day if you count the 6-7am as a ‘lunch break’.
Anyway I have an hour now to get about 3 hours worth of stuff done. She’s still on the boob.
Let’s really see if I’ve ‘got this’.