“You better start catching up on sleep now” and various other ridiculous phrases were pushed upon me when I was an optimistic pregnant lady. As far as I was concerned I had a life growing inside of me and a whole new adventure in front of me. Damn I was like an oracle – full of hope, dreams and ambition. Two years later…I am eating chocolate in secret, crying in the toilet and merely surviving. I feel duped. I sing Frozen’s “Let it go” ironically. Surely all those “caring” and “concerned” people who stroked my belly button, without asking, should of been saying “Get the fuck out of here!” Maybe they did, but I was so ‘into’ chapter 152 of ‘What to expect’ I didn’t actually listen to you know, what to expect.
Honestly who can prepare you for motherhood otherwise known as ‘Mission Impossible’ and why does no one tell you how it really is? My honesty doesn’t always make me friends, but it has helped me find other like minded mothers, the only difference is, they still wish to pro-create. Which makes me wonder, what is wrong with me? Why can I and them go through all this; sleepless nights, bleeding nipples, public tantrums etc and yet, they can’t wait to do it all over again?! When people ask me “Are you trying for another?”, my answer is always the same, in the words of Sid from Ice Age : “No thanks, I choose life”.
Of course women discuss and debate the daily “joys” of motherhood, but it is always about baby poo, feeding, meltdowns and routines etc. No one warns you that your two year old will try and bite you if you don’t sit in the place he thinks that you should sit in. I am starting to wonder if I should of had a rabies shot whilst I was in recovery from my C-section?! In my optimistic oracle days, I would never have predicted that I would be in a playground and pretend that my son was not mine, whilst he was screaming in a sandpit face down. I read all those books that told you how to do it ‘right’ and so of course – how could I do it so wrong?
A toddler is like a grenade and you can pull the pin and jump on it or simply run and duck for cover. The irony that my zombie apocalypse plan is the same plan that is getting me through the ‘terrible twos’ is not lost on me. I just hope I survive, because if I do I can survive anything. I may not be an oracle anymore, but I reckon I could be a good cockroach – those fuckers can survive anything!