So, I was going to blog my motherhood journey. I was going to write whether it made sense or anyone read it. I didn’t care. I was going to write, because then at least in a few years I could look back and remember all the little things I had forgotten. I was going to memorialise the good, the bad and the ugly of being a new Mum.
I was an idiot.
I like to think in general I’ve been quite down to earth and honest with myself about what to expect from myself once becoming a new Mum. I wasn’t going to expect perfection, or to get made up or even showered every day. I wasn’t going to expect crafting and breastfeeding and daily educational fun activities. I wasn’t going to expect my baby to have the perfect routine and be happy all the time.
My goals were as follows –
1. Ensure baby is fed and clothed successfully each day
2. Ensure that I was clothed in at least pjs and managed to eat at least one semi-meal per day (graze snack pots count as a meal)
3. Try to make one Mum friend
That was it my goals. Oh and WRITE ABOUT BEING A NEW MUM!
What on Earth was I thinking? Little Squish is now 5 months old (ish) and this is the first time I’ve even had chance to have a fully formed thought about writing a post never mind doing it. It’s not just the constant attention a baby needs, even with a “good” baby. It’s the fact that you are totally fried, Mum brain is a real thing, the exhaustion is nothing like you’ve ever dealt with before and to be honest I now think those women who do manage to blog and Instagram and blog and whatever the fuck else is going on in the world of social media are either robots, high on uppers or simply a different breed of human to me. Because, whilst as a mum you’re never supposed to say this – I cannot do it all. I just can’t.
But I really want to try. So I’m going to try. I may not get onto my instagram or my Twitter or anything else but I’m going to try.
Wish me luck!