A little bit more about me. I’m married and have 2 little boys (currently age 3 and 7 months). When I’m not on maternity leave I work part time and the boys attend nursery 3 days a week. I have had both prenatal and post natal depression. I’ve always enjoyed reading other people’s “parenting tales” as it helped me realise it’s hard work and to be fair I’m probably pretty normal.
Things that make me the very normal mummy
- I think my kids are awesome
- I live on (cold) coffee
- I always have an audience when using the bathroom
- I hang the kids “artwork” and “certificates” on my kitchen cupboards
- I blame most things on baby brain
- Mr Tumble has taught me a Makaton
- You name a baby group, I’ve probably tried it
- I eat way too much cake
- I bribe my toddler with chocolate
- My toddler is far to adept at using an iPad
- I feel guilty about just how much telly I let my children watch
- I am instructed by a toddler to dance round like a loon to the Paw Patrol theme tune
- I attempt to tidy my house before friends come round
- Most parenting decisions worry me
- I would love a complete day off from being mummy every now and again
Apparently I look young. I look back at photos of myself from university and think “wow, I look so young, no wonder I was always asked for ID.” I look at myself in the mirror now and wonder why on earth I still am.
The other day as I was walking out of the GP surgery, both children in tow. An older gentleman said to me “you must’ve been 20 when you had him.” I smiled politely and walked on. I’m not sure what the best response actually is to comments like this. Firstly, so what if I had been, nothing wrong with being a young mum. Secondly, I wasn’t. I was 27. Thinking about it, I wish I had been younger when I started having babies, maybe I would have more energy. Now my days are often fueled by one lukewarm coffee after another.
My favourite examples of times when my clearly youthful (good) looks have caused most amusement are as follows…
1) Going to buy kitchen scissors at the age of 28 with my baby bear in a pram and needing to show ID to purchase them. Old enough to be responsible for another human being, but not old enough to be trusted with scissors.
2) Opening the front door at the age of 29 and being asked if my parents were in. Well I certainly won’t be purchasing a new driveway off you.
3) Having our university 10 year reunion and being singled out to provide ID on the door of the club. Not obvious to the naked eye, but I was 13 weeks pregnant at this point.
4) Getting asked for ID on the Christmas work do. I’m 30, this is my first night away from my second born, yes I need a glass of wine, no my ID is not fake.
One day I’ll miss being asked for ID. But until then I shall continue to provide amusement to my friends.