Crikey Moses people it’s 2018! I mean, how the heck did that happen?! I feel like I’ve blinked and 2017 has whooshed by me in a flash. It really was a whirlwind year and when I look back on it sadly, IVF is the main focus. What with appointments, injections, bloods taken, treatment, legs in the air and such like. It hasn’t all been bad, but I’d say it was one of those years that I’ll park in the ‘Let’s forget you for a while’ vault for now, thank you very much. Wanting to move on from my last post with something a bit more light hearted and having just had had my birthday (screaming face emoji) I wondered that, considering I’ll be turning 40 this year, what exactly have I learnt about myself thus far? What simple, silly things have these last 39 years taught me about ME, if anything?
Mothers Day is fast approaching and I’ve been thinking about the fact that as my years creep ever closer to forty (I mean, really?!) that I’m slowly but surely turning into my mother. Actually scrub that, I don’t notice it so much, it’s my husband who tells me I am. It’s inevitable really isn’t it what with the DNA and all, it’s something that can’t be helped or stopped, no matter what your relationship. I love my mum dearly, she’s done so much for me over the years, the one I look to for advice but it hasn’t always been this way. We had a rough ride when I was younger. I was a typical teenager and I caused her a lot of heartache and grief, for which I carry a lot of guilt for (it’s okay, I’ll be punished via my own daughter, karma and all that) I used to hate it when people told me I looked like my her but now I love it, I’m her daughter, that’s our eternal link and bond. Now that I have a daughter myself I understand that link that will always be there. Plus I know that I can’t fight it, it’s happening whether I like it or not. I’ve had a bit of a think and here are a few signs that I’m turning into my mother.
Us mums can sometimes get a bad wrap, and I’m not talking the sandwich variety here. If we’re not hating each other, we’re being too smug, we’re being too competitive, we’re not good enough, we drink too much coffee and wine, or we dare enjoy just being ‘mums’ and not working! All these traits tend to be banded about in the media I hasten to add, I don’t believe any of this rubbish. We are what we are, us mums, and I think that truth be told, the majority of us are doing a damn good job, even if we do happen to feed the kids beige food three days in a row (*cough, that definitely wasn’t me, cough*) Being a mother is incredibly hard at times but it’s also hugely rewarding. It’s a large amount of good with a dose of bad thrown into the mix. So let’s get down to the nitty gritty, what’s the real truth about being a mum and what are the bits that people might fail to tell you about?
Sometimes in life, things come to us easily. Some people just seem to have the right tools from the outset, whatever those ‘tools’ may be. Some people breeze along, always looking amazing and like nothing phases them. These people just seem to ‘get it’ right, whether that be clothes, hair, jobs or just life in general. Life just comes naturally to some people. And me? Well, I’m not one of those people. I never have been and I don’t think I ever will be, but it’s taken me a long time to accept that. In fact, it’s only really now that I’m in my thirties, oh who am I kidding, I’m the the grand old age of thirty seven (sob) that I’ve half-heartedly accepted this. But at this age, what exactly have I figured out? What have I finally got right, what have I accepted and what have I still not sorted out yet?
Friendships are funny old things. Some friends drift in and out of your life, some leave their mark and some stick with you forever. When you have a baby, keeping up with friends can be damn hard, so it’s the ones that really mean something, who stick with you to the bitter end. Since having my girl, I definitely don’t see certain people as much as I used to, life just gets in the way, things just change. Having a little person isn’t an excuse not to keep in touch but it certainly makes things a bit harder. Here’s a letter from me to some old pals, the ones who I have trouble keeping up with.