Why I'm Redefining Having It All

This post was originally featured on Littles Magazine.

The concept of having it all, is in my opinion a strange one. It's the idea that the woman, the Mother should strive to have an excellent career and a contented family life and that these things should exist in harmonious balance with one another. It's the idea that this is what all women want or at least should want, because its now (apparently) all available to us.

Ugh. How patronising.

I'm a full time working mother of one, with a husband who also works full time and co-parents with me in equal measures. Whilst I am not particularly qualified or financially well off, I would go as far as to call my vocation a career because it is specialised and I've been working on it for a long time.
Sounds like I've got it sorted doesn't it? Well some days I do, some days we get up, we get ready, I've made lunches the night before and everyone has clean underwear. Some days the toddler fully co-operates, he actually brushes his teeth and he lets us dress him without kicking Daddy in the balls. He's excited to see his Nanny or his friend Lily at nursery and he's bowling out the door with a huge grin on his face. On these days I've straightened my hair, I'm on time, I'm wearing that dress with the little brown belt and there are no ladders in my tights. These are the days that I, by definition look like I 'have it all'.

When Your Toddler Holds You Hostage In Superdrug

Sometimes I forget that I'm still a first time parent. I feel like I've been a Mum for a while, its not all shiny and new and I should just know the answers by now. I mean you get all that when you have a new born, that feeling of not knowing what you're doing, not knowing how to hold them without their head falling off. Unsure of the normal temperature, the normal colour of poo, the normal amount of crying. You're supposed to not know when they are new and you are new at being a parent, its expected, its accepted. Its ok to hold your hands up and say 'Sorry I'm new at this, I don't really know what I'm doing!'. 
Trouble is, I'm not really sure I can do that now my first baby is a new toddler. I mean I'm more confident with my parenting skills than I was in those first few months, his needs are easier to read, mostly because they are being screamed at me from across the supermarket. I can assess the right temperature because I've realised that its either just too fucking hot or too fucking cold, it doesn't matter if you're nine months old or ninety. I don't worry about the colour of poo, I no longer phone my Mum about it. Two and half years in, I've seen it all or at least please God, I hope I have. Its been on my hands, in my hair, on the carpet, there's nothing in the poo department that can worry me now. We've kept him alive and reasonably well behaved, we used to congratulate ourselves on what a 'good baby' he was.

Then three weeks ago, he held me hostage in Superdrug.

A History Of Anxiety

Anxious.
Its such a throw away word.
"I feel a bit anxious!" "I have anxiety about it." "I had a little panic attack."
Its a word we hear and use in casual conversation, to express our nerves or qualify our social awkwardness. Everybody feels anxious, you've just got to push through it and you'll be alright. Its such a shitty word, it lends itself to enable people  to talk about anxiety disorders as if they are not really illnesses. As if they are a self imposed state of mind for people who just need to relax a little.
I think I've lived with anxiety for the majority of my life. Its generally comes disguised as a very specific and tailored fear. Which then manifests itself deeper and further into my everyday life. Like when I was 8 years old and started refusing to go school, because I became terrified and transfixed on 'The Bad Book' being read out in school assembly. It is in truth quite a horrendous notion, that each Friday the list of 'Bad Children' was read out to the entire school and if your name was called, you had to stand up and be shamed. I hope nothing like that happens in Primary Schools these days. I spent my early twenties in a constant state of extreme anxiety. I don't mean that I was stressed or shy or a bit nervous. I mean that every day for five years, I had or fought off panic attacks. I mean that everything I did or didn't do was governed by the prison of my own mind. I built myself a tiny, little world with limits. I was quite safe there.

Mothering The Shit Out Of Life

Towards the end of last year I got pretty bogged down with all the things I had to do, the things I did do and things that were never going to get done. My mind became increasingly cluttered and stressed and over burdened by the demands of work, housework, my son, my husband and everything else that goes with it. There was always hoovering to do, always emails to respond to, always a dinner to cook. I was becoming increasingly frustrated with myself and my inability to get everything done. Everyone elses houses are always tidy, why was ours never ever tidy? We're never even here for fucks sake. At one point I was actually getting up in the middle of the night to hang up washing so it would dry in time. I would voluntarily opt out on reading my son a bedtime story, so that I could get dinner started so we wouldn't be eating at 9 o'clock again. I was giving a little of myself to everything, meaning nothing got my full attention, nothing truly ever got done or finished and well, I was fucking failing at everything.

10 Reasons Why Being a Working Mother Sucks Balls

This is an article I've had half drafted for a while, but I could never quite finish it off. I was worried it would come across as a woe is me post, my life is so hard post, I'm so exhausted post. But after a particularly shitty fortnight and just generally feeling like a crappy Mum, I read this piece The Working Mother by Learning To Be Mrs C and it just made me feel a lot better. I completely related to it and just felt relieved that I wasn't the only one struggling with the work/life balance. This is exactly why I love blogging,  you start to realise that you are not alone. You are not the only one.

As Mothers of this generation, the game is varied, the choices are different and the guilt is greater.

Should I Work? Can I Work? Do I Want to Work?

Should I Stay At Home? Can I Stay At Home? Do I Want to Stay At Home?

But the ultimate truth is we're all dealing with the same shit, our struggle is the same - its just the context that varies.

So here's my ten reasons why being a working mother sucks balls. I'm not saying being a working mum is harder than being a stay at home mum - who knows, who quite frankly cares? I don't, I'm far too fucking exhausted to worry about what everyone else is doing. This shit is hard and regardless of our 'parenting context' we all deserve a fucking medal.
If your a stay at home Mummy - please can you write 'Ten Reasons Why Being a SAHM Sucks Balls?' Then lets get together, compare notes and consume vast quantities of wine.
First bottle is on me!

5 Ways to Survive the First Weeks of Maternity Leave

1. Leave the House
I know this sounds flipping obvious but I often felt like this was the last thing in the world I wanted to do and yet every time I did I felt a million times better. Being inside for too long just magnifies everything, you look around and see all the shit that needs picking up, cleaning, tidying and you start to lose your mind. Even if you don't have a reason or a particular place to be ,go out, get out anywhere at anytime, just leave the house. Who cares if you're not wearing make up or if you haven't brushed your hair in three days? Chuck on some clothes, if you haven't done any washing yet this week, chuck on yesterdays clothes it doesn't matter just get the fuck out of that house.
Honestly a little walk or sitting on a park bench with a Mars bar can change everything.