It's like it's the elephant in the room, the dead mouse in his Ikea kitchen (more about that another time) or the floating shit in the bath.
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I'm single, I have been for a year and a half, and although I haven't wanted to dine out on it in a 'woe me' kinda way, some of us - despite being married or with baby daddy, still feel very, very alone. Yet I AM alone.
I always joked 'Oh imagine if I ended up a single mum!' Now look at me, a deliriously happy one minute, miserable as sin the next.
I was always the girl in relationship after relationship. In hindsight, I probably never gave myself time to heal.
After my son was born - a lot more than my heart needed healing - and I think that was the problem.
I have never ever got over the shock of birth - the pain, pah, that was nothing! I'd rather do that ten times over, than have a wax. I'm sorry, but the pain of a wax is ridiculous, if gas was available I may reconsider my answer. But just the unexpected, the episiotomy, the unknown - everything.
It was a lot more about what happened to my body physically, pathetic I know. That's the least of your worries as a mum after hoofing a child out, and yes, the bastard that I am was back in size 10 jeans (albeit jelly belly on top), but it's more now - I can't bear the thought of someone seeing me not being as taut and perky as I was. The ever prevalent spare tyre due to the love of donuts, biscuits, chocolate (mum staples) is still hanging about (for want of a better word) two years down the line - although I've got really good at shoe-horning it into my skinny jeans.
After birth my hormones went haywire, lack of sleep turned me into permanent grot-bags. Then to top it off I became insecure about my body, despite escaping mainly with bashed up bits.
The breasts I had that were initially small, were even more gnat bite-ish after childbirth/breastfeeding. My super perky booty was more troubled than taut (and I felt like I was shitting glass for at least a month) and well, I sort of fell out of love with myself too.
No one has since seen any of the above. Yes, really.
But worst of all - I've got no one to bloody cry/moan to or quite simply take my rage out on.
I remember back to the exhilaration of leaving hospital 3 days after birth and feeling more alive and pumped than ever, yet the incessant feeling that soon crept up on me that I was too tired to function after a 16 hour birth, two days mini contractions and spending the early hours in the bath scooping water over my bump, listening to whale sounds and wallowing like a hippo - I don't think you ever catch up, and the difference is I have no one to 'spot me'.
It was a lot more about what happened to my body physically, pathetic I know. That's the least of your worries as a mum after hoofing a child out, and yes, the bastard that I am was back in size 10 jeans (albeit jelly belly on top), but it's more now - I can't bear the thought of someone seeing me not being as taut and perky as I was. The ever prevalent spare tyre due to the love of donuts, biscuits, chocolate (mum staples) is still hanging about (for want of a better word) two years down the line - although I've got really good at shoe-horning it into my skinny jeans.
After birth my hormones went haywire, lack of sleep turned me into permanent grot-bags. Then to top it off I became insecure about my body, despite escaping mainly with bashed up bits.
The breasts I had that were initially small, were even more gnat bite-ish after childbirth/breastfeeding. My super perky booty was more troubled than taut (and I felt like I was shitting glass for at least a month) and well, I sort of fell out of love with myself too.
No one has since seen any of the above. Yes, really.
But worst of all - I've got no one to bloody cry/moan to or quite simply take my rage out on.
I remember back to the exhilaration of leaving hospital 3 days after birth and feeling more alive and pumped than ever, yet the incessant feeling that soon crept up on me that I was too tired to function after a 16 hour birth, two days mini contractions and spending the early hours in the bath scooping water over my bump, listening to whale sounds and wallowing like a hippo - I don't think you ever catch up, and the difference is I have no one to 'spot me'.
But on a positive, the pleasant surprise is I've developed this inherent and innate knack of being a mum, despite knowing f-all or never having much experience around children. (Although they always seemed to like me). I still think every day it's only me the poor little sod has got to answer to.
I hate the term MILF, (even if it is from the fit 25-year old rugby-esque lad down the pub trying to get me home with him, and no, I wouldn't) - but I think I hate the 'single mum' tag that little bit more. It always makes me feel a bit pathetic.
I should look at the positives though: I have a great network around me - and I'm doing it..On.My.Own.
I am winning at life, and I've managed 2 1/2 years while juggling a job. Yay me!
I've tried to make something more of my evenings and be productive; like blog, catch up on general mum life, tv, things to keep me sane, rather than trawling through Facebook
and feeling worse at snippets of everyone's impeccably filtered life.
Social media as a whole, is pumped full of birth announcements, engagements, perfect family life, mummy and daddy days out, prestige white baby gros (funny, all of his white ones are now a fetching korma hue).
While my personal favourite and most liked pic is the one of my son treading in his own squishy shit.
The Mum Mafia, like: Dress Like a Mum, Mother of All Lists, Mother Pukka, Steph Don't Buy Her Flowers, My Milo and Me on Instagram are fantastic are keeping my pecker up, and aren't always posting things with rose tinted glasses. Yes, they've become insta-sensations, but by no means are thrusting it in other mother's faces - more like inspiring us. They share all the highs and lows of parenthood and offer their motherly support in modest imagery that tickles me A LOT and makes me feel part of a cool gang where we're all laughing through our parenting highs and lows.
I gave myself a terrible eye infection a while back, as somehow I managed to get my son's crap in my eye after one of those rushed nappy change I-am-going-to-cry-through-the-whole-ordeal-because-I-want-hot-milk-two-minutes-ago demand moments. I refer to the chapter as 'poop-eye'.
It wasn't pretty.
Being the only single one in a group of happy couples can be tough, however lovely everyone is. Even attractions and days out could be a very different experience with a plus one, which would always help to take the edge off the bitch fits (him, not me).
Just having someone to get up at night, or give a different perspective/play-time - to give me a break when I'm ill (thanks my mummy for being that plus one at times).
But I've made that choice - that's how we're doing it in this household.
Whether in or out of a relationship being a mum is very lonely at times, I get that.
I live with a 2-year-old dictator: 'Fix it.' and 'Don't like it' is always great for morale. But when he sees his evening milk and knows that cues bedtime and cheerily charges up the stairs and is settling down within 10 minutes. I know I'm shit hot. I did that!
I persevered at the bedtime routine and I won (ok, there was two weeks of teething where he ended up in my bed, foot in my ear all night etc but we'll skim over that part).
Follow me on Instagram & Twitter for more ramblings: babyubeautiful
I should look at the positives though: I have a great network around me - and I'm doing it..On.My.Own.
I am winning at life, and I've managed 2 1/2 years while juggling a job. Yay me!
I've tried to make something more of my evenings and be productive; like blog, catch up on general mum life, tv, things to keep me sane, rather than trawling through Facebook
and feeling worse at snippets of everyone's impeccably filtered life.
Social media as a whole, is pumped full of birth announcements, engagements, perfect family life, mummy and daddy days out, prestige white baby gros (funny, all of his white ones are now a fetching korma hue).
While my personal favourite and most liked pic is the one of my son treading in his own squishy shit.
The Mum Mafia, like: Dress Like a Mum, Mother of All Lists, Mother Pukka, Steph Don't Buy Her Flowers, My Milo and Me on Instagram are fantastic are keeping my pecker up, and aren't always posting things with rose tinted glasses. Yes, they've become insta-sensations, but by no means are thrusting it in other mother's faces - more like inspiring us. They share all the highs and lows of parenthood and offer their motherly support in modest imagery that tickles me A LOT and makes me feel part of a cool gang where we're all laughing through our parenting highs and lows.
I gave myself a terrible eye infection a while back, as somehow I managed to get my son's crap in my eye after one of those rushed nappy change I-am-going-to-cry-through-the-whole-ordeal-because-I-want-hot-milk-two-minutes-ago demand moments. I refer to the chapter as 'poop-eye'.
It wasn't pretty.
Being the only single one in a group of happy couples can be tough, however lovely everyone is. Even attractions and days out could be a very different experience with a plus one, which would always help to take the edge off the bitch fits (him, not me).
Just having someone to get up at night, or give a different perspective/play-time - to give me a break when I'm ill (thanks my mummy for being that plus one at times).
But I've made that choice - that's how we're doing it in this household.
Whether in or out of a relationship being a mum is very lonely at times, I get that.
I live with a 2-year-old dictator: 'Fix it.' and 'Don't like it' is always great for morale. But when he sees his evening milk and knows that cues bedtime and cheerily charges up the stairs and is settling down within 10 minutes. I know I'm shit hot. I did that!
I persevered at the bedtime routine and I won (ok, there was two weeks of teething where he ended up in my bed, foot in my ear all night etc but we'll skim over that part).
Follow me on Instagram & Twitter for more ramblings: babyubeautiful
