So here we are sat in 1st class en route from Birmingham back to the Mother Lands (Aka London) for our first grown up weekend since the Pudding arrived.
Some mixed emotions as we leave both kids where their more than capable but slightly crazy grandparents. I have made lists, organised food, shown them how to make milk and work the pram – in all honesty it felt a bit like leaving the dogs at kennels – ‘yes 6 scoops for 6 ounces…’ Luckily they are used to my control freak nature and humour me by listening intently and nodding along, giving only the occasional dig that they have actually raised two children themselves. Of course they know babies, but they don’t necessarily know my baby, all her quirks and peculiarities, her preferences and cues. But then does it matter? Do they have to do exactly what Mummy does? No, they don’t, as long as she sleeps and eats and is reasonably content then that’s fine. I mean it’s not like I want them to upstage me!
I am not worried that the kids won’t survive one night without me, I can’t quite put my finger on what gives me that little knot in my stomach. My rational brain is screaming just relax woman, you have two days of quiet, hot meals and a lie in. Two days of uninterrupted adult time with your amazing husband who has planned and executed this trip with laser precision. (He is already looking at pictures of the kids…) When did we become these people? 5 years ago we would have been on this train, prosecco in hand and not a care in the world!
I know it will be fantastic when we get there and that all our old haunts will soon bring back those fabulous memories of being young and childless – but in the back of my mind I know that I will have left a piece of my heart in Birmingham, even if it is just for one night.
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I am supposed to be finishing my post for one of my favourite linkys’ #ChuckleMums, but I don’t feel much like chuckling this morning. I have been fighting the invisible hand of postnatal depression all weekend again. It’s always there, some days are better and I don’t contemplate legging it from the house with just my car keys for company. But this weekend it’s just sat there like an impenetrable fog. Not helped by being full of cold, which is miserable even at the best of times. I have stuck a brave face on it and carried on with the usual mundane housework, laundry and meeting all of the children’s needs, an outsider would probably not even notice there is anything wrong. But I can feel it bubbling inside me, quietly simmering beneath the surface ready to explode about something (most likely trivial) how it will manifest itself will depend on who opens the box! If it’s Pie it usually comes out as rage but if it’s my mum or a friend it’s likely to be a flood of tears and a torrent of unintelligible words.
I am hoping that this week might be the start of getting to grips with my feelings after Puddings birth. I have an appointment with Acacia who are a postnatal depression charity that run all sorts of helpful sessions. Looking forward to talking to someone and feeling able to be honest without being judged for not enjoying the kids. Because it’s not about that, I love them both dearly, I just don’t feel like me anymore. Most days I feel as if I am living through Groundhog Day, I know that raising small children can be quite repetitive and that this is just a fact of life when you are a mother, but it’s definitely a fact I need some help to accept. I don’t know what the sessions at Acacia will be like, that makes me anxious but I hope that they will start to untie this guilty knot that’s still inside me. Things are better than they were a few weeks ago but I don’t think I am quite there yet…
As for the for the #chucklemums post? This is Pudding HQ something is bound to happen before lunchtime that will be worthy of featuring in a funny linky!
Love Pudding’s Mum