Just to give you an idea of context, I am usually super organised. At work I always had everything organised and prioritised. I had a ‘traffic light system’ so red tasks were urgent, amber needed to be done when possible and green could wait a week or two. I had lists of phone numbers, contacts, and email addresses filed safely. I had a folder to store information that families may need. I organised my diary carefully. I was (still am, but on maternity leave!) a social worker with older adults within the complex case team and my caseload was really high (about 25 ‘complex’ people to work with at any time. So I had to be organised or I wouldn’t have coped mentally with the workload.
But as a mum, none of these things work. I’m not organised at all. I try to be, but somehow these girls of mine refuse to be put into a timetable. I have it planned out what we will do, but then it doesn’t work. At all. My cleaning hardly ever gets done, which frustrates and bothers me but doesn’t seem to make much difference. I never iron. I do try to cook most nights, but I’m just not organised. There are only 4 of us (including my boyfriend) to organise and somehow it’s an impossible and never ending task.
I get really puzzled as to why its such hard work maintaining a house with two children. And mentally I seem to be struggling a bit. Most days I feel a bit sad. Not quite sad, but not happy either. In some ways its like feeling nothing to protect myself from feeling broken. I don’t know quite what I would do if I didn’t have my parents, sisters, nana and in laws as they keep me floating. Just about.
Having a baby is hard, hard work. Everyone talks about the 6 month mark being that magical point when it gets easier. Only it doesn’t. When my oldest was about 3 months old I remember her crying, and me crying, and me just hoping to survive until 6 months, because then she would magically sleep through and be less clingy and needy. It didn’t happen – she didn’t sleep through until about a year old. And with Rosie now, she’s almost 7 months. And at 6 months it didn’t change. I’m still in survival mode. I think I will be for a while yet.
That’s not to say I regret having my girls. I don’t – I absolutely love them to bits and I cherish every moment with them. In fact, at times I think that they are the only ones who keep me sane, and when Amelia says something funny or Rosie makes one of her new noises (na, na, na) it just makes me really proud. They are my life in two little packages. But i’m tired, I need some space and I want to be me and not just mum occasionally.
Sorry for the rambley post, I’m not usually one to moan or even talk much about my negative feelings. Even now I’m half tempted to delete this post and not put it on my blog. But I have to be honest – this blog is a place where I need to be honest or else it will just stay in my head. Posting this will help me, and so I’m going to post it.
I’m still in survival mode. But I’m doing my best and its okay to not feel great all the time.