There's really no competition.
But it's slightly less accepted than that midday glass of chardonnay.
Last month I had to go and get my fingerprints taken. Unfortunately, the machine was struggling to read my prints. Apparently, this is quite common and the lady operating it suggested I put some hand-cream on as this makes it easier for the machine to scan the prints, as she gestured to my oversized handbag, fully expecting me to whip some out!
But then I lost it. Where did the overwhelming rainbow feeling go? I lay in bed with my 2 day old son who keeps licking his lips at me. He doesn't love me. He doesn't know who I am. He just wants milk.
As a mum who went into Motherhood (wrongly) assuming that PND only happened to mothers who had a history of mental health problems, that it was something that happened to women who were not "strong' enough, that it meant they hated their children, I know firsthand how dangerous these misconceptions can be.
With talk of houmous and gluten free this and that, Bad Moms is the most American, middle class depiction of motherhood but as long as you know this before seeing it, you'll enjoy it. Thankfully, Kunis' beautiful, mesmerising, gigantic eyes are enough to distract you from the filo pastry thin plot and lack of gags.
I had expected having a new born in my life to be relentlessly hard; I had expected to feel completely sleep deprived and exhausted. And that was where my expectations had ended.
Last night in bed, the moment just before I closed my eyes to go to sleep I had the most stomach churning of thoughts that made my (only moments earlier) bleary-on-the-edge-of-sleep eyes, instead be forced awake in a state of shock and bewilderment. Leaving me caught in the hazard lights of Motherhood.
They say never to work with animals or children but sometimes the life of mumpreneur means you have no choice... 1. She's
When the time came to return to my job it hit me hard especially as at the time I was suffering with then - undiagnosed postnatal depression. I work Monday to Friday, 9am-5pm. My little man is in nursery Monday to Friday, 8.30am-5.15pm.
Yes, we have to teach our Tiny Humans boundaries. Yes we have to teach them right from wrong. Yes we have to be their guides. And, yes sometimes we just have to let them eat the Mother f***G cake!
I accept that with the birth of my child comes the acceptance of not having a clean and polished house or life and most importantly comes the acceptance of other parents who are also going through this wonderful, crazy and at times difficult job (despite how smelly, dishevelled or exhausted they may look - as we've all been there right?!)
No matter how many times I tell myself this I just can't get my head around it. Crazy I know, as by the time the day arrives I will have had 365 of the damn things to get myself prepared for it. Not to mention she is my second Tiny Human to have her 1st b'day so I should know what to expect.
There is a reason dry shampoo was invented, however, this reason always eluded me pre-baby with me saying ludicrous sentences like "Why would I need dry shampoo? I will just wash my hair if its dirty!" Oh the unadulterated bliss of having time to wash anything but someone else ass.
The moment I found out I was expecting my first child, my life changed forever. Nothing was going to be the same ever again. It couldn't be taken back and even if the pregnancy hadn't gone through, I still would have remained changed. This much I knew.
There is a vast canon of literature on new-parenthood, child-rearing, baby nurturing, what to expect and what not to expect once you've had a baby. You could thatch houses with the amount written about this most wondrous time of any person's life.
I have been telling myself for WAY too long now that I need to be performing at 100% on all these cylinders to feel happy and fulfilled. I need to be good, no "GGGRRRREAT!" at all of them to feel validated and this will in turn mean I am a good mum, a sexy wife and a shit hot entrepreneur.
I guess what myself and my mummy tantrum are trying to say is that rather than being strong and brave through it all, wouldn't it sometimes be a refreshing relief to admit how hard all parenting decisions are and how we bloody dread having to make them?
So why oh why is it not this simple? Why do we instead feel so judged on our choices and like a 'failure' if we are not doing what is perceived as making the 'best choice' when it comes to how we feed our baby?
Not all Mums are negative automatons. It depends what type of day they're having. It just seems to me (as a Mum) that much of what I write (and read) covers more of the bummed out side of parenting. And all to often I speak to other parents and they seem to be complaining a lot too.