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? 

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Post Pregnancy Pants Struggle

I don’t really have anything to rant about this week. Pete has been off so it’s been an absolute dream after doing this parenting thing on my own Monday – Friday for the past 4 months!!

This in turn has made Edwin like the happiest baby ever – erm I’ll try not to take it personally that he’s difficult when it’s only me and him. 

Today I thought I’d get some new underwear. I thought it was time to ditch the 2x 5 pack of HUGE black pants which go up to my boobs which my mum got me after my cesarean. Also the nursing bras which didn’t serve their purpose because I couldn’t deal with the pain of breastfeeding which I’ll forever regret, but that’s a different story for another post.

ANYWAY. Got all this beaut underwear, some matching and everything all size “L” to be on the safe side, only to get home and try them on and find the big granny pants were fooling me into thinking I was ready for nice kickers cause my overhang is fucking repulsive. 

So now I’m sat watching a documentary on Fred and Rose west, drinking beer and eating giant packets of crisps because I literally couldn’t give a shit. I read somewhere is takes women’s bodies up to 3 years to recover from pregnancy and labour anyway so I have that long to get rid of it! No rush :).