Also, this: (I wrote this a few years back feeling the same way)
Not Me
I looked in the mirror this morning,
And realised I’m not me any more
Not the reader, the pub go-er
the skier, the party thrower
Not the person I was before.
I’m not the girl who went to uni
Qualified professional with a grown-up career
I’m not the one who loved camping, glamping, hot-tubbing and a pint of beer.
I’m not the person who danced at Glastonbury, joined Mensa with a top score.
I’m not the girl who loved escape rooms, sudoku, Rubiks Cube, not me any more.
I don’t pick out an outfit, buy those new boots, spend an hour on curling my hair.
These days my fashion is whatever will fit me, usually picked off the floor or the chair.
Instead I’m the person who’s so tired I often can’t remember my own name
I sleep in a tiny corner of the bed, get up ten times a night like it’s a game
I’m the person whose day is consumed with mess, with tidying the same sh*t again and again.
The dishes, the sweeping, the endless laundry, minimum wage? I work for free, what a shame!
Today I’m the girl who gave up her figure, her savings, her name and her sanity
Ive replaced it all with three tiny angels (or devils depending on the day it seems).
I’m now a professional multitasker, I can load the dishwasher, settle an argument, practise spellings, change nappies, replace the toilet paper, wipe up spills, turn the tv down, breastfeed, join in with a teddy bear’s picnic AND do the school run all at the same time.
Deal with grazes and tantrums, iron uniforms, cook the tea. No wonder I always want a glass of wine.
But those angels, those beautiful angels of mine just flash me their sweet smile.
The mess, the stress and exhaustion, is magically gone for a while.
The very first ‘mama’, their tiny hands, as they hold my face and whisper ‘I love you’.
Holding them sleeping, not daring to move, wondering what the rest of the world is up to.
Is it all worth it? Will I regret giving up my freedom and fun? Will I regret changing my name to mummy, mummy, mummy, mummy, MUM???
But my heart has grown three sizes, I can’t remember my life before (except of course I can because who forgets a whole 32 years??)
My heart knows they’re so worth all the stress, the mess and the tears.
I know I’ll get back all my hobbies and pastimes when they’ve outgrown sleeping in my bed. When all I am is a bank and a taxi, to 3 teens who tower above my head.
When I’m sad that bedtimes no longer involve cuddling up with a story and song,
I’ll look in the mirror and realise, that that was probably me all along!