So… I’ve failed miserably at my New Year’s Resolution: to write one blog post per week. That was it.
A seemingly realistic goal. And
yet it’s now mid-February and this is the first time I’ve contemplated stringing
a written sentence together. Blog page
abandoned. Twitter and Facebook feeds
unloved. And I’d like to be able to
offer a justifiable reason. But I can’t: just life, now I am mum. And blog was the first victim.
Since I last scrawled some words, a fairly standard bunch of
family events have been grappled with: a
hand, foot and mouth outbreak, vomiting bug, christening, Christmas, two
birthdays. But after emerging from all
things snot this week for the first time since November, I prefer to blame the undertone
of green stuff for the productivity reality check. Overnight, getting through became the aim in
life.
Days on end spent changing snot-stained sheets and
perfecting the art of pouncing on green slugs as they head slowly south, about
to combine deliciously with the yogurt moustache of a baby who will only
contemplate self-feeding; or on a chunk of green crust that flutters in the
breeze and tantalisingly disappears with each new breath before it can be
caught in a tissue. The satisfaction
experienced at catching either without leaving most of it smeared across a
cheek as the head abruptly whips away in a lightening move, is only slightly
detracted from by the energetic meltdown that results from the sheer indignity
of Mr Snot being removed from his rightful place.
Nights have been broken by episodes of blood-curdling
screams, the kind that have you out of bed in a panic wondering what scene of
devastation you are about to enter. Desperately
rocking an unsettled baby at 3am after a dose of calpol and a feed, shivering
from the cold and aching all over. My sense of self-pity is usurped by the ever-present
mum guilt: “you should feel sorry for
your baby, not you”; “you can’t even comfort her, what a failure”.
Two weeks with no other baby contact and it’s no coincidence
that we have emerged from the snot haze for the first time in months. A smiling baby, settled sleeps, good feeds,
and excited playtimes have been restored.
Normal life has resumed. Some days
being a parent is the most natural and easiest thing in the world; on many
others it’s the hardest. Being
quarantined at home for days on end is miserable. A germ-filled haze of sneezes, snot, coughing
and crying presides, grumpiness rules and any semblance of glamour dissipates. No smiles, no contact with the outside world,
24/7 isolation. Fair play to everyone
out there who manages to blog and be a mum, it’s a great way to share the
gritty bits if you can stick to your new year’s resolution. Take two commencing!
