Vain and insane

Body image of mums. “I earned these stripes” and all of that “Real woman” stuff makes me feel like I’m not allowed to admit to being upset about what my body looks like post baby.
It’s an awkward topic to dance around because I think it’s been over simplified by memes and the online society. I’ll explain. It’s not just that I’m upset because I’m flabby, stretched and have rocks in socks where my perky b cups used to perch. It’s a hard time because when I became a mum it was such a huge change in my identity, losing myself and becoming an exhausted on demand servant to two tiny beings that having a Mum bod’ is like the outward, physical identity change. But not a welcome one. Yes, I’d rather have torn apart tummy muscles as evidence that I was so fortunate to carry a child than be without a baby, my baby is most definitely worth it, let’s get that part out of the way. But you know what, it’s not just breastfeeding that gives me bad posture these days, I want to hide away my belly. It’s not just my two year old tugging at the bottom of my shirt that makes me cover my hips. I want it to look physically like I didn’t have  two babies in under two years. I should be allowed to say it without an eye roll, without a lecture and without people excusing it. I feel like I am not myself anymore and my image reflects this. 
Being a Mum is mental. How is any one person supposed to do all the things a Mum is supposed to do everyday? Typically, My husband comes home from work and my hair has snot in it, my clothes are two days old, I haven’t showered in three days and my legs/armpits are hairy. This is the most accurate physical portrayal of the stale yet raging chaos that is my brain. The outside represents the inside, in my case.
To take ownership and control over my appearance may signify taking back some control over my life. I will then have been able to prioritise myself over the relentless demands of Motherhood. For now I guess I’ll just keep walking the kids in their dual stroller so that we all have some quiet sanity time in the mornings and afternoons. It’s healthy for us all.

Another day, another birthday

What kind of a message does it send that, for my 28th but bday today, my husband got up with my toddler and cooked me breakfast. I was surprised he knew what I ate for breakfast. Everyday for over four years, I make him breakfast. Cooked eggs, in fact.
What does it mean that for my birthday, I order in pizza because I have no one who can cook me dinner without me instructing or giving my blessing? I still had to sort dinner.

What does it mean when, for my birthday, my husband baths the kids?
He did still go to work today.
What does it mean when what I really want is some time to connect with my husband, but he falls asleep putting our toddler to sleep. I wait up for him before realising he’s not going to sit and talk with me. I sit and remember the nights I have been exhausted but have stayed up to make an effort with him. Not for particular occasions or anything.
So, for my birthday he treats me the way I treat him everyday except he then falls asleep at 9pm. 
I’m quite confused by this. I don’t know what to make from this birthday.
I am having a bit of a crisis today. An internal conflict of desires and a want to make a change. I am deeply ashamed that I have lost myself to Motherhood. It’s a weird thing to be embarrassed about because it is so apparent, so obvious, so in your face, it can’t be missed. It’s like, everyone knows so stop pretending like you’re hiding it…
I was at a wedding in January and old friends there didn’t even recognise me. I have gained twenty kilos, my eyebrows are unruly, on the top of my frazzled head rests a nest of unwashed greying hair. I used to feel like I was somewhat attractive. I was treated like I was something special. Doors would open for me, things paid for, I toured with three famous bands, people wanted to be my friend, invites piled up, I was never alone. Then, Motherhood. 
Then, Motherhood, indeed. I don’t think I lost myself to Motherhood as I believe I have found myself in Motherhood. I am fufilled in ways I didn’t know possible, life has meaning now etc.

Today i recognise this pattern I fall into time and time again. Where, during change, I must fall apart in order to build myself up again just the way I want myself to be. There is less control over myself now with being a general dogs body and razing small children, as they come first but maybe there is more liberation as well. I’m not a slave to alcohol, to drugs, to party invites, to fancy A-list shenanigans, to that pressure. I am just running around always in a flap wondering how anyone is supposed to do all the things a Mother is supposed to do, plus manage a household, maintain friendships, maintain romance, maintain family relationships, have a career, make money, lose weight etc. This flap is becoming unflappable now. I feel like I’m doing a really bad job of being a Mum. My children should not be watching me cry into the frying pan everyday. I feel like my kids look at me and must feel so uncertain that I am a strong leader, which is very scary for a child. They must feel so uneven. It’s my fault.

I feel like if write this down then the uncertainties and insecurities are no longer within me and maybe I can get some sleep tonight. While they are kept in my mind, I can’t rest with them buzzing around so loudly. 
I want. I want to figure out what I want.
It’s what I need to do, I think. Or I’ll forever be drowning in Motherhood, unable to lift my own head above the surface because it is swamped down with Motherhood. 
What do I want? Is trying to get what I want going to create unnecessary pressure?
I want.
It’s a start. A conscious start. What do I want?
28 years old. Like, what does that mean? Why do I feel let down with today? What did I expect? What reality did I create today? Ultimately, this is all my choice. My life is my choice.

So maybe I need to figure out a few things about myself. Maybe I need to embrace falling apart and learn from the vulnerability that comes with it so I can put myself back together as a stronger version, as the pattern goes.