Teething Struggle

5am wake up call. Teething 7 month old. Coil checkup. Day 4 of eating healthy… This is not the best combination.

I’m feeling like an absolute hero right now. Call me super mum. He’s finally asleep. I’m so glad that Pete was home or I might have spent the day silently sobbing and eating the whole pack of spirals in the cupboard and all the cheese in the fridge.

It’s better then when he was a few months old and teething, when he would just scream for hours at a time and I’d be stuck relentlessly dancing around my house pretending I was in strictly and feeling I was in hell. I was always scared I was going to OD him on Calpol, teething powders and Anbesol liquid. Now I don’t give it a second thought and dose him right up. Although, now when he’s in pain he won’t let me hold and rock him. I can’t hold him at all without him flinging himself backwards, to which I always panic I’m going to drop him because he’s an absolute tank.

Who knew a 7 month old could throw a paddy!? Like, I thought this happened at the “terrible 2” age, but nope, Edwin has gotten in there early. If I move the remote out the way, if I move my phone out of his reach, if I have he audacity to smile at him when he’s playing alone or sing to him. So now I watch whatever Edwin has put on the TV, and my phone is constantly covered in baby dribble. 

Luckily, I didn’t have to take him into the nurses room with me to get my coil checked today. Unlike when I had it fitted when he was in the pram next to the bed I was laid on, my legs spread open, and Edwin decided to cry, so im singing “you are my sunshine” while a nurse is all up in my vag. Oh and during which, when her fingers were fully roaming around she told me I had a “long vagina”. Lovely.

The day didn’t get easier when I got home and started to crash. Healthy eating is not good for you when you have a baby who needs you to be constantly weird and fun and literally a CBeebies presenter. In my desperation I got into bed with him and sang “twinkle twinkle little star”, while screaming in my head “please sleep you beautiful horrible little twat”, obviously this failed miserably so we went back downstairs and played with my phone. Which is why I have allowed myself, for the sake of being the best parent I can be for my child tomorrow, to eat all the carbs. All of them. Did you know beer is a carb? It’s the wheat. So we need it in order to entertain our beautiful and demanding children. 

Only another few years of teething though and then I’ll not have to deal with a whiny, devil child again, right?

Juggling It All Struggle

It just gets too much sometimes.

It hits me out of nowhere and I just want to fall to the floor and cry at the unfairness of it all. 

I’m so fed up of cleaning the house every fucking day for it to still be a shit hole.

I’m so fed up of doing loads upon loads of washing.

I’m so fed up of having to be a bloody Disney character for the majority of the day.

I’m so fed up of constantly worrying that I’m doing it all right. 

I’m so fed up of feeling guilty as shit for even thinking about spending time away or going somewhere without having to think about someone else.

I’m so fed up of waiting for a better future, a nicer place to live and a better environment for my family.

I’m so fed up of worrying that I’m being a good mother and a good partner simultaneously. Trying to be the perfect mum but also not lose myself and still be young and fun and alive.

Why are the days so long but the months so short?

Why, when I feel like I’m finally owning this partening shit does it all come crashing down and I suddenly feel like a failure in every aspect of myself?

I know this will pass. I know after I’ve written this I’ll feel the weight lift and be able to breathe again.

But fuck me this is hard. Isn’t it?