There are so many crucial bits of information ‘they’ left out. I admit, I was a total fool for thinking I’d be spending my maternity leave doing the stuff I did pre-baby (PB) i.e. faffing around on a monumental scale. Je suis le queen of faff. I have a master’s degree in ‘Faff’. Yes, I thought I’d be tootling off for ‘fancy’ lunches within a couple of weeks of delivery. Out to lunch mentally? For sure. Going for fancy lunches in town? IN TOWN? Dressed FANCY? Cock-a-doodle-doo! Maybe ‘they’ did tell me but perhaps I had my previously-well-manicured fingers in my ears. Or maybe I thought it would be different for me, this baby malarkey, I mean, how hard could it be? Stick the nine pound mite in a swanky, overpriced pushchair, pair with sensible yet fashion forward footwear (possibly Lanvin trainers in several peppy colour ways), add large sunglasses et voila! I am Gwen Stefani-lite, if you squint.
I thought I’d be the ultimate culture vulture, too. But needless to say I didn’t make it to Leonardo, Degas, Twombly, Emin or Corinne Day last year, nor have I been to any gigs, had dinners out or seen any films this summer, autumn and now winter. I lie, I saw the wotsit with the Dragon wotsit last week, sat on my own in a huge comfy seat in the fancy bit at Westfield, glass of wine on a little side table, huge thingy of popcorn all because HIG said I looked ‘emotional’ and needed ‘time out’. Ok, I admit it; I thought maternity leave was going to be a bit like taking a really long holiday for which I would get paid to lounge around and read books. I can just about manage to read about Amy Childs’ tits spilling out of a too tight dress on the Daily Mail website, never mind read a book or look at Italian masterpieces.
Anyway, I digress! The biggest thing ‘they’ forgot to tell me was about ‘the guilt’. Yes, that’s right, GUILT. I’m not talking about mild guilt like when you've over shopped the old credito card on new season, the endorphin rush quickly turns to panic and before you know it a bunch of drunken butterflies are partying in your tummy. Goddamn you Net-a-porter and the cyber ship you sailed in on. No, this guilt is the Big Daddy of all guilt; I’m talking about ‘mothers’ guilt’.
Let me break it down:
1. I feel guilty for moaning about being tired to friends who don’t have children. They don’t wanna hear it, they’re just nodding polity and wondering when their friend will be back in town.
2. I feel horrendously guilty for moaning about being tired to friends who do have children. I probably wasn’t there for them when they were going through the early stages of motherhood, OH THAT REALLY MAKES ME FEEL GUILTY. What a shit friend I am (beats self with overpriced shoe).
3. I feel guilty for admitting I want to go back to work because it will be easier than being a full time mum. By the way, I am the only woman willing to admit this in my antenatal group. I said it at our last coffee meeting and then quickly left before social services were called.
I thought I’d be the ultimate culture vulture, too. But needless to say I didn’t make it to Leonardo, Degas, Twombly, Emin or Corinne Day last year, nor have I been to any gigs, had dinners out or seen any films this summer, autumn and now winter. I lie, I saw the wotsit with the Dragon wotsit last week, sat on my own in a huge comfy seat in the fancy bit at Westfield, glass of wine on a little side table, huge thingy of popcorn all because HIG said I looked ‘emotional’ and needed ‘time out’. Ok, I admit it; I thought maternity leave was going to be a bit like taking a really long holiday for which I would get paid to lounge around and read books. I can just about manage to read about Amy Childs’ tits spilling out of a too tight dress on the Daily Mail website, never mind read a book or look at Italian masterpieces.
Anyway, I digress! The biggest thing ‘they’ forgot to tell me was about ‘the guilt’. Yes, that’s right, GUILT. I’m not talking about mild guilt like when you've over shopped the old credito card on new season, the endorphin rush quickly turns to panic and before you know it a bunch of drunken butterflies are partying in your tummy. Goddamn you Net-a-porter and the cyber ship you sailed in on. No, this guilt is the Big Daddy of all guilt; I’m talking about ‘mothers’ guilt’.
Let me break it down:
1. I feel guilty for moaning about being tired to friends who don’t have children. They don’t wanna hear it, they’re just nodding polity and wondering when their friend will be back in town.
2. I feel horrendously guilty for moaning about being tired to friends who do have children. I probably wasn’t there for them when they were going through the early stages of motherhood, OH THAT REALLY MAKES ME FEEL GUILTY. What a shit friend I am (beats self with overpriced shoe).
3. I feel guilty for admitting I want to go back to work because it will be easier than being a full time mum. By the way, I am the only woman willing to admit this in my antenatal group. I said it at our last coffee meeting and then quickly left before social services were called.
4. I feel guilty about not wanting to go back to work. I have moments when all I want to do is stay at home and play with my son and brightly coloured, squeaking plastic objects, and I'm not talking about Jodie Harsh's collection of handbags.
5. I recently hired a nanny for a two afternoons a week. The first time she looked after my son, I stood at the bottom of the stairs, semi-spying on her, foaming at the mouth with jealousy. Oh, that’s normal. Not. The whole experience made me feel terribly guilty, clearly she’s a nice person and I am not and my baby would prefer to be with her. Play ‘Insane in the Membrane’ as backing track here.
6. Nobody in my antenatal group has part time help. Shoves head in oven.
7. Did I breastfeed for long enough? Everybody in my antenatal group is competitive breastfeeding. I’ll pass them the number of a good surgeon when they’re done, which will probably be in four years time knowing that lot.
8. I had ‘write a novel’ on my to do list but it aint going so well hence getting part time help, but the sales are on and and and and.. well, you know…
My friend’s granny says feeling guilty ‘is terribly common’, but she also thinks buying anything new is too, which makes me really rather common and therefore I need a drink, possibly at the Connaught, which aint so common.
Best wishes,
etc etc
5. I recently hired a nanny for a two afternoons a week. The first time she looked after my son, I stood at the bottom of the stairs, semi-spying on her, foaming at the mouth with jealousy. Oh, that’s normal. Not. The whole experience made me feel terribly guilty, clearly she’s a nice person and I am not and my baby would prefer to be with her. Play ‘Insane in the Membrane’ as backing track here.
6. Nobody in my antenatal group has part time help. Shoves head in oven.
7. Did I breastfeed for long enough? Everybody in my antenatal group is competitive breastfeeding. I’ll pass them the number of a good surgeon when they’re done, which will probably be in four years time knowing that lot.
8. I had ‘write a novel’ on my to do list but it aint going so well hence getting part time help, but the sales are on and and and and.. well, you know…
My friend’s granny says feeling guilty ‘is terribly common’, but she also thinks buying anything new is too, which makes me really rather common and therefore I need a drink, possibly at the Connaught, which aint so common.
Best wishes,
etc etc
Love the honesty!
ReplyDeleteHahaha, I'm reading this while my 6 month old uses me as his play mat.
ReplyDeleteMy maternity pay runs out on the 4th of Jan and everything you have just written is how the last six months of my life panned out. Book number two is not written, columns are done via my iPhone and I long for the days of leisurely lunches to return. Vive la Motherhood!
Hi Stacey,
ReplyDeleteAh ‘the guilt’, I have spent many a day as a nanny and a friend attempting to talk mothers out of ‘the guilt’. Mostly, and certainly it seems with you, the mothers are doing brilliant jobs. And as a nanny who is also a blogger and fashion writer I believe I have mastered my wardrobe to accommodate both ‘fuck me boots’ and converse alike… it can be done. And I promise that as time goes by the guilt will subside and the work/mummy balance will find it’s rightful balance.
Good Luck,
Emily x
P.s – No child loves a nanny more than a parent. (There is a Café Nero tantrum story behind this, which I will never forget)
I identify with a lot of this - you are not alone! I work two days a week at the moment, and much as I adore my daughter, those are the easiest days of my week by far. You sound like a wonderful mother x
ReplyDelete