I’ve been on the job for 3+ years now. The Mom job that is. And even after so much time at it, I continually find that I don’t know jack crap. You think I’d be a pro, but I find myself faking it ‘til I make it, more than I actually know what to do. My own personality flaws and short comings are mirrored back to me by my kid on the reg. Also. physical flaws. That little broad lives for an opportunity to publicly discuss my floppy baboos and hairy gina. It all comes with the territory.
But what doesn’t come with the territory is how to find yourself whilst in the throes of Motherhood. Dude. That is dramatic af. And sounds like a real winner for my autobiography. “In The Throes of Motherhood: A Wino’s Journey of Self Love & Hangovers” Until my book drops, however, I wanted to share what took me way too long to realise to any of my fellow MILFS that might need a gentle reminder.
THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH PUTTING YOUR FUCKING NEEDS FIRST.
OK…not so gentle, but the all caps and f bomb really drive my point home. Just because you are a mom doesn’t mean your wants, needs and health aren't a priority. It seems like such a simple concept, but it is literally something I’ve only recently began to do myself. It’s not like I’ve been a martyr these past 3 years, but my natural way of thinking was to meet the needs of my family before I even assessed what the hell mine were.
I ate whatever crap food I could get my hands on that was easy and gave me quick energy. Not that I really enjoyed. Wore maternity clothes for 2 years because I wasn’t bothered to spend money on myself. Didn’t get my hair done or carve out time doing things I enjoyed regularly because it wasn’t a necessity. I’ve been in a survival mode fog. Just do what needs to be done and repeat. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t happy. I’ve loved motherhood and all the changes it brought into my life, but I sure as hell wasn’t living.
7 months ago, I woke up the day after my birthday, hungover as hell and ready for a change. So I started making food I liked for dinner. I had more energy so I was out and about more. Went to the gym. Let Baby Daddy put the kiddo to bed so I could walk on the beach and clear my head after a tough day of toddler fuckery. For the first time in years, was cognisant of my needs and made them a priority.
As a result, I’ve been infinitely more present. My physical and mental health are so much better. I take pride in my appearance again. I’m living.
The most noticeable difference is that I’ve lost 30 lbs. I think. Last time I weighed myself before my big ass life change was 9 months previous and I didn’t step on a scale until a few weeks into it. It was never really about the weight, but more so to feel better. Not sluggish and constantly exhausted. But the weight loss has been a welcome change, and the easiest. Unlike depriving myself and forcing a workout that I hated, like I’ve done in the past. I’m eating well and doing physical activity I enjoy. Shaking my saggy tits at my gyms Clubbersize class is a fave. Also. I’m still too chicken shit to drive here in England, so my arse clocks some serious mileage just to get around.
Though I’m not my pre-baby weight. My sad little boobs are straight up spaniels ears. I still have the famed c-section shelf and more dimples on my arse than I can count…I’ve never felt sexier. Stonger. Confident. For the first summer that I can remember, I rocked the absolute hell out of my bathing suit with nothing but pride. And a giant bush. Some things never change.
I’m not gonna do the “before and after” pics, because thb, I still look fly as hell before. So here I am at some point in my selfish mom revolution. Happy as a pig in shit. While Thing 1 is just realizing this is the tip of the iceberg of me embarrassing her.
I’m still Momish. I never say no to wine. Find any excuse to absolutely demolish $80 worth of McDonalds and can still be found in front of the open fridge, spraying whip cream directly into my gob. I just have balance now.
And that is what I’m here preaching about, bitches. BALANCE. Also if a preacher referred to their congregation as bitches, I’d be at church waaaaaay more often #justsayin . I digress. It took me a long time to realise I could put myself first and it didn’t make me a bad mom. It’s not the end of the world if I miss bedtime, a meal or an epic bitch fit. It makes me a healthier, happier and more balanced one.
So instead of giving your kid the iPad to get some cooking or cleaning done, do something purely for you. Read a book. Take a bath. TREAT YO SELF! So here’s my challenge for all you gorgeous Broads. Be a bad mom. Do something just for you. Even if the house is a tip or there just aren’t enough hours in the day, carve out a few minutes expressly for you.
Also. Have wine. All the wine.