How drastically our lives change once having babies. One minute you’re at an “adult party” where 2 gay salesmen are trying to convince you to buy 6 vibrators and some lychee flavoured lubricant. The next you’re sitting in a library singing nursery rhymes over the wails of crying babies begging for the songs about piggies going to the market and boats rowing merrily down streams to just shut the fuck up. I assume. I may have been projecting.
*Just to clarify, the adult party was not the ultimate cause of my attendance at baby rhyme time in the local library. I was already heavily pregnant when being showcased sex toys. And sober. It was awkward for everyone involved.
My point is, is that a year ago I would have legit LOL’D in your face if you’d painted me this picture of my life. And yet there I was, properly singing nursery rhymes (not mouthing the words or being too cool to sing) to my little boy who was one of the few babies actually enjoying it and smiling coyly around the room. I felt conflicted. On the one hand, my cynical pre-baby self was cringing, CRINGING at what I had become. This part of my brain was shouting “You sellout. You look like such a moron right now. Remember when you had intelligent conversations about… things? Remember?!” The sounds of a roomful of tone-deaf mothers made me want to pull my own ears off. The group leaders demonstrated the actions to the songs with toy dolls and FINGER PUPPETS. I had a desperate urge to remove myself immediately, pending a lobotomy.
On the other hand? I FUCKING LOVED IT. My whole life I have dreamt that I should be the star of my own musical where everyone around me breaks into synchronised dance moves, pounding out some power ballads and wearing dramatic costumes – this was about as damn close as I was going to get. Not to mention the sheer joy on Tom’s face, clearly shaping his own dreams regarding musical ventures. #raisinghimright
The whole experience has made me think about my attitude coming into motherhood. It’s like I tried to resist it. Determined that it wouldn’t change me and that I would not change anything about my life “just because I had a baby.” Who the fuck was I kidding? Since becoming a mother, I have been invited to more Tupperware parties, Thermomix demonstrations and “mums and bubs” themed gatherings than I would have thought possible. Today I had lunch in a fucking play centre, filled with slides and ball pits and noisy, sticky, smelly children (including my own.) When I go shopping, I trawl the baby clothes departments and look at educational books and toys I can buy for my son, before looking at items for myself. We go to swimming lessons. All things I would not have been caught dead doing pre-baby.
I was a bit of a dick prior to motherhood.
Some aspects of my life are the same. My day centres around meals and naps, though no longer my own. I’m regularly up at 2am, though no longer by choice. And I still drink bucket loads of coffee, though no longer for enjoyment but necessity. And while I’ve had to give up much of life’s simple pleasures like sleep and regular self-care and leaving the house after 6pm, I find that nearly 9 months in, I don’t hate this new lifestyle. In fact I’d go so far as to say that I rather enjoy it.