Day 53

This morning HH and I passively aggressively argued about the car. It went a little something like this;

Me “Soooo, you will now have the car for three actual days?”

HH “Yes afraid so….I know it’s a bit rubbish”

Me (in a martyr-ey way) “*sigh*, I suppose I can’t go to my important appointment tomorrow now *sigh sigh sigh*”

HH “Yes you can, get the bus”

Me (through teeth that are gritted a teeny weeny bit) “Oh darling, there isn’t a bus that takes me to the place where my very important appointment is. And it is all a bit tricky as will need to take the babies to lovely nursery first. Tricky tricky…”

HH “its fine you can get the number bla bla bla bus to so and so street and then the bla to bla bla.”

Me “Hmmmmhmm…”

HH “you aren’t even listening to my solution”

Me “I was just wondering, inside my head, maybe if perhaps you could possibly get the (sodding ruddy) bus (for once) this time (you knob)

HH “I would happily get the bus my love, but I can’t get to work or University on time if I do that.”

Me (so bloody what) “Right. Ok. Fine. Bye. See you in 3 days, I will probably be even more mental by then because I won’t be able to leave the house or get anywhere or do anything ever. See you later.”

HH (withering look) “Bye, love you”

Me (Looks in opposite direction and does not say love you*. That will teach him).

In reality, I was being a teeny weeny bit of a brat. This is because I actually can get the bus to most of the places from the bus stop that is literally outside my house. It is just super annoying relying on them as they often do not turn up or are massively busy. This can be awkward as my babies, who at all other times can be found attached to my lap whenever possible, will not sit on my lap on the bus. No, they like to take up 2 actual seats to themselves. This also means that as a trade-off, I will stand and wibble wobble around the aisle for the entirety of the journey.

I am not very good at being restricted by time. This is because I have babies. It is handy to have a lovely car that does not follow a timetable. (Not that the buses appear to either)…anyway, I was in a big massive mood about the whole thing. But I feel much better now for the following reasons;

1 – HH later said I had a fair point. Which is almost the same as saying I was right.

2 – The bus was on time, not busy and the babies got to sit in their most favourite seats. This almost made it worth it.

3 – The babies are super ace and little things make them so happy

4 – I have had a big massive coffee. And I might have another one.

5 – I am seeing my best friend the therapist today

I have been thinking a little bit lately, about whether I will actually ever drink any lovely drinks ever again. It was never my intention to become totally-teetotoria, after my year is up. But there is a big part of me that that is a bit scared to ruin what I think has become a good thing. Also, I still absolutely believe I could very easily turn to lovely delicious lovely wine again as an escape, as my crutch. And even I realise that this isn’t massively healthy.

What I would like, is to take this year. Do all of the things I can to stay well, and then wake up next year totally able to socially drink one or two glasses followed by a sensible glass of actual water whilst watching the 10pm news. This is unlikely to happen for the following reasons;

1 – I still do not know my limits

2 – I will probably never know my limits

3 – I do not like to watch the news before bed

It is only February though. So loads could happen yet that I have no idea about.  Isn’t that super exciting?

As a side note, I went with the biggest little sister to see the littlest little sister play Adelaide in “Guys and Dolls” at her school last night. She was actually awesome, Really super awesome, and her singing was ace. Maybe one day she will be really famous and will buy me my very own car. And HH won’t ever be able to use it. Ha.

As another side note, today is the biggest little sister’s birthday. Happy Birthday biggest little sister!

The biggest little sister is a total babe. Not only is she super-hot to look at, but she has a nice heart which is mega happy and filled with lots of love and brilliant things. I think this is ace. I hope she has a wonderful day because she absolutely deserves it.

Today I am grateful for the following**;

1 – Coffee shops with plug sockets

2 – Making space to reconnect

3 – Time

Toria x

*I’ve decided I don’t like the idea of you leaving the house on an argument, even if it was a passive aggressive one, and even if I did text you apologising for being a dick afterwards (don’t tell anyone).so…I love you too. Ok.

**It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.


Lots of Days

Because I have not written in a while, I have decided to provide you all with a fun and exciting breakdown of my week. For this I will mostly use an excel spreadsheet of my thoughts. You can click on this fancy pants little link if you would like.

You are welcome.


Day 48

This was a special day for me because it was my first real night out without drinking lovely drinks. Even though I was expecting it to be awful, it was actually pretty fun. Getting ready was a teeny weeny bit of a different story because A) babies in the house, and B) no lovely getting ready drinks. This is how it went down (my piercing is keeping me so street) in my own words in my head.

5.36 pm – Right. HH is home. Littlest little sister is home. Babies’ feral but can’t have it all. Will have a lovely relaxing shower before I transform myself into total babe.

5.37 pm – What the actual ruddy hell is the boy baby crying for. I wonder if HH is going to do anything about it. Is HH even aware of the crying? Surely the littlest little sister will….Oh for goodness sake. I am relaxing in a lovely shower. None of this is my problem. Must force myself to relax.

5.38 pm – Boy baby is sat on bathroom floor wailing because girl baby looked at him with her eyes. It’s totally ok though, because I am ace at being mindful so I will concentrate only on the sounds of the falling water.

5.39 pm – He is really sodding loud though.

5.41 pm – Excellent, Have hollered downstairs at HH to get the boy baby a jammy biscuit so that he can eat his feelings. The boy baby is happy about this.

5.42 pm – do you know what would be really useful in the shower? A clock. I have no concept of time. How long have I been in here? Has my nourishing conditioner been on for exactly 2 minutes yet? It must have been. I have managed to rearrange all of the shampoo bottles and scrub my face with some gritty stuff.

5.43 pm – How long is defined as a long relaxing shower? Humph, if I had a clock in here I would at least know how long I had been relaxing for. I probably might just get out. That will give me lots of lovely time to do my makeup.

5.44 pm – both babies waiting for me in the bedroom. How lovely.

5.45 pm – Where the actual sodding sod is HH?

5.46 pm – Have told the babies to find Daddy because he has sweets for them. I know this is a low blow, but I am trying to have a relaxing time.

5.47 pm – What is missing is a lovely big glass of getting ready wine. I’m not even sure I can face getting ready without getting ready wine. I hate everything.

5.55 pm – I am going to spend at least an hour doing my makeup. I am going to use all of the makeup that I own (not eyeliner).

6.05 pm – Done. Phew.

6.05 pm – How in the actual hell is it only 6.05pm? I have just used all of the makeup that I own (not eyeliner). I am as attractive as I am ever going to be. There is no more that I can do.

6.07 pm – I do love my lovely new lipstick. Both babies have some on. Actually quite suits the boy one. I love those little weirdos.

6.09 pm – Ruddy babies. I would like to dry my hair without someone crying. Unless it is me. Why, if they are so offended by the noise, do they not just LEAVE THE RUDDY ROOM?

6.10 pm – Where the actual sodding sod is HH?

6.12 pm – Where the actual sodding sod is HH?

6.13 pm – I am going to divorce HH.

6.14 pm – HH has taken babies downstairs. Will continue drying my hair and then I am going to use all of the products that I own to make it super shiny.

6.15 pm – I wish I had super long hair.

6.16 pm – so glad I am blonde again though.

6.17 pm – Babies should be putting on their pyjamas. There are no sounds downstairs that imply anyone is putting on any pyjamas.

6.19 pm – Just keep out of it though. You will be out at a lovely restaurant soon and if no one is in bed that is not your problem.

6.22 pm – will just pass some pyjamas down to HH and offer gentle words of advice and encouragement.

6.23 pm – HH Put their sodding pyjamas on or they will never go to sodding bed and everything will be awful.


6.25 pm – Girl baby is crying because boy baby looked at her with his eyes.

6.31 pm – Girl baby asking 387 questions about hair. I don’t know enough things about hair. I really wish I could drink some lovely wine.

6.42 pm – Oh that will do.

6.44 pm – Ohhhh earrings

6.45 pm – No girl baby, you cannot get your ears pierced.

6.46 pm – Because you are 4

6.47 pm –Because I say it is too young.

6.48 pm – I do not care that other people have their ears pierced, and also out of interest. When did you become a teenager?

6.50 pm – Girl baby has left. She is furious with me and is going to tell Daddy. Good.

6.51 pm – Babies and HH are upstairs because it is story time. Is all fine, just need to find a bag that is not full of old food and am ready to go.

6.53 pm – I would be so much more in the mood to go out and not drink any lovely drinks if I was having a nice lovely drink in preparation.

7.02 pm – Will just sit with girl baby for a bit whilst she falls asleep. I love her.

7.10 pm – I wish she would go to sleep now though.

7.11 pm – Are boy baby and HH actually playing actual Spiderman shark mermaids in his bedroom?

7.12 pm I am furious. No. no I am not because soon I will be in an actual restaurant. And the girl baby is asleep so will go downstairs and have a relaxing sit down before I need to go.

7.31 pm – HH has come downstairs to inform us that the boy baby will not settle down. I cannot sodding well imagine why this may be you massive knob.

7.32 pm – Will sit with boy baby for one minute to encourage calm. I love him.

7.43 pm – No boy baby, you cannot muscle me. Ruddy Spiderman. It is bedtime.

7.57 pm – Am out of house! Am out of actual house. Am sure it will be fine that we are now running late for our table at nice restaurant that is always fully booked. Will be totally fine.

The End

Day 52 (Today)

I have some time off work this week. This is super exciting as it means I can try and get on top of all the stuff that I haven’t been able to get on top of whilst I have not been feeling too great. The only teeny weeny problem with that is that I am still not feeling too great.

I think I am going to go back to the doctors, just to be on the safe side, and tomorrow I will go and tell my best friend the therapist all of the things.

Because I have a tip top social calendar, I am actually out again this evening. Myself and the biggest little sister are off to watch the littlest little sister in her school show. I am super proud of her as she has the actual lead role and has to sing solos and stuff. It’s a pretty big deal and she’s spent loads of time rehearsing. Also, her boyfriend is the boy lead role so it’s like a real life love story.

HH is on bedtime duty for the second night in a row so I think I will leave him some cheer up trifle as a little treat.

This week I have been grateful for the following*;

1 – All of the lovely birthday messages

2- All of the lovely birthday cards

3 – All of the lovely birthday gifts

4 – All of the lovely birthday outings

5 – All of the lovely birthday cake

6 – Flowers from HH. Discount and all

7 – My super cool crazy babies singing me happy birthday

8 – The wonderful people in my life

Toria x

*It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.

A little something else

I am not a person that will suffer with depression. This is because I am a coper. I am someone who copes and gets on with things and does not say that things are hard because things are hard for everyone. I am not unmotivated and exhausted because I am depressed. I am unmotivated and exhausted because I am lazy. And fat. And disgusting. And a waste of all of the space. And worthless. I do not prioritise basic self care such as showering or brushing my hair, not because I am depressed. But because I am a mother now and I should come last after everyone else, This is motherhood. I am not so depressed sometimes that I cant see or hear or think. I cant see or hear or think because I am so stupid and can’t multi task and I need to pull myself together because I am a mother now.

I never feel like I am a good enough mother, or a good enough wife, or a good enough friend, or a good enough daughter, or a good enough sister, or a good enough employee, or just a good enough human. This has nothing to do with suffering from  a depression that cripples your sense of self and worth. I feel this way because all of this is true, I am not good enough at anything so I need to try harder. I will absolutely try harder tomorrow. But I will probably fail because I am utterly useless.

I want to run away from my babies sometimes. The weight of responsibility to do it right and be the best mother for them is too much. This is because I am a complete waste of space and a terrible person. A terrible mother. This is not because I have depression, and because I have put so much pressure on myself to get this right for them, that it is making me ill.

I don’t stand in my home surrounded by chaos and mess, unable to do anything about it because I feel completely paralysed by my own brain. I do nothing about it because I am lazy and deserve to live in chaos. I don’t constantly think about how I could and should do all of the things better because my anxiety makes me over-analyse absolutely everything. I think about doing all of the things better because I need too. Because I am actually doing everything badly.

I can’t have depression because I don’t really believe in it.

I have judged those that suffer with depression and anxiety because they are weak. They do not know how to cope and they chose to feel miserable.

They chose to feel that way. It’s a choice.

Except; what person would chose to feel that way? Some people are so desperately ill inside of their own actual heads that they only way to feel better is to no longer exist. This is not a choice. Some people will never get the help they need because they don’t believe in depression, or anxiety, or that the way they feel is not normal. And that actually, people who are well, do not feel that way.

I never really understood depression. I sympathised greatly with those who I knew genuinely suffered but have been sceptical of others. I am ashamed about that. I have judged and discussed and analysed other peoples mental health as an outsider. As someone who would never suffer with depression, because I choose not too. I choose to cope, I choose strength, I totally choose to be normal and like all other mentally stable people because being depressed must be so damn embarrassing.

What a total utter asshole.

I had no idea what my brain had in store for me, or that I would become the person I had once believed had chosen to live in darkness.

Accepting that I am ill has taken me a long time. Being able to talk about it has taken even longer. And feeling unashamed or blameless is still a work in progress. But my goodness, my heart is open to anyone who has, does or ever will feel this way. There will be no judgements from me. But I will buy you a massive coffee, and I will tell you you are not alone.

Day 46

I always knew that one day everyone would realise that I am a total cool cat. Down with the kids. Totes street. Today is that day. This is because today I got an actual piercing at the top of my ear.

I have been harping on about doing lots of new things this year, to try and take my mind off not drinking any of the lovely drinks. And also to take my mind off the fact I’m super mental. Aside from the tattoo (which is still on the cards fyi), the other thing I wanted to do was get something else pierced. Only on my ear though, because even I know my limits when it comes to being cool. I may have talked a lot about possibly doing it sometime soon, because when I got to work this morning 2 of my most fave friends told me they were taking me to get punctured (their words) at lunch time as my birthday present. How awesome are they?

In order to get a piercing, we needed to go into what I like to call “A really cool but scary sop where I absolutely do not fit in”. It was ok though, because my two lovely friends know all about cool stuff so I managed to blend in alongside them. This is because I am both stealthy and adaptable.

An awesome lady named Olive (I love that name, stupid HH vetoed it when we had the babies) pierced my ear, and she was super fast. I didn’t even realise what had happened until I left the shop armed with tea tree oil and salt. It was in no way less down with the kids just because she had to check my glasses wouldn’t catch on the piercing first. Oh no. The world was my actual oyster because I was a cool confident woman who had artistically expressed myself with a piercing. Even HH loves having such a cool wife, I can tell.

HH is at work tonight but I have the lovely company of my littlest little sister who is staying with us whilst the parents are away. She mostly snapchats stuff, but sometimes she will talk to me which is nice.

I’m feeling a little better today after seeing my best friend the therapist yesterday. I told her absolutely all of the reasons why I felt I was becoming super mental again, and she told me all of the things I have done that I should be proud of. I love therapy.

She has also been talking to me for a while about introducing a new way of working together. I was a teeny weeny bit surprised at this because I know she totally loves hearing me obsess about all of the things for an hour, often without stopping for breath. But I know she really wants to help me so I am happy to do whatever she says. The new way of working has a long and complicated name that I don’t understand but it is all to do with eye movements. We had a little practice yesterday and it turns out, I am ace at all therapies. For this one, I have to use my eyes and follow my best friend the therapists fingers as she waves them about a bit. I didn’t let them out of my sight even once, so I’m certain that I will be cured really soon.

Today I am grateful for the following*;

1 – Lovely early birthday gifts

2 – Fast dry nail varnish drops

3 – A cosy bed

Toria x

*It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.

Days 43, 44, and 45

Yesterday morning was the sort of morning that you would talk about and people would say “Ohhh, you couldn’t make that up”. No, you could not. And why would you, because it was horrific.

Mondays are soft play day. Now that we have entered the magic phase, this is quite a pleasurable activity for all involved, so there was no reason to assume that this day would be any different. Things started to go a teeny weeny bit downhill when we arrived and they couldn’t get my bank card to work in their machine. I decided that the only way to save face about this was to check my balance in front of all of the people and loudly tell them, to the penny, what was in my account. This did not matter though; as soft play people don’t let you in just because you show them you could afford to pay…they want you to actually pay. It’s all ok, I thought, there is a supermarket with a cash point nearby. I will act in the manner of a grown up and resourceful person and withdraw some actual cash, then come back and throw it at the soft play lady and everything will be fine.

I then tried to explain this plan to the babies. The girl baby took it pretty well but the boy one…did not.

Me (shrill and overly cheerful voice) “Come on loves, Mummy needs to go and get some pennies because my silly old card won’t work (Very loudly) EVEN THOUGH THERE IS JUST LOADS AND LOADS OF LOVELY MONEY IN THERE.”

Boy Baby “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. SOFT PLAAAAAAAYYYY.”

Me “Of course we are going to come back to soft play boy baby, but the lady won’t let us in without any pennies. EVEN THOUGH THERE IS OBVIOUSLY LOADS IN MY BANK ACCOUNT.”

Boy Baby “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. SOFT PLAAAAAAAYYYY.”

Me (Realisation dawns that the boy baby is neither able nor willing to accept any explanation as to why we have come into soft play, and left seconds later. Will have to perform a physical retreat.) “Come on boy baby, everything will be lovely” (Pick up screaming 3 year old, gesture to 4 year old to follow and decided she is absolutely my most favourite baby)

The boy babies’ screaming protests continued all of the way to the supermarket, despite the number of times and ways I tried to explain what was happening and that we would be going back to sodding soft sodding play. Finally arrived at lovely lovely supermarket and I decided that the day was about to become ace as there was a mother and baby parking space next to the actual cash machine. This is the parenting equivalent of smoking crack. Huzzahhh.

Even though I can still hear the boy baby through the closed car doors, I feel a sense of calm wash over me because I am about to make all of this better. Except I am not, because even though the cash machine can read my card and tell me my balance which I already knew to the penny…it will not give me any actual money. What the actual hell am I going to do?

It’s all ok though, because I have ace friends, who after a super quick phone call tell me that of course they will pay for us to join them at soft play, they will even stretch to a coffee and watch the babies whilst I sob/ring the bank and call them all massive knobs. I love friends.

I tell the babies we are heading back to soft play, but as I am brilliant at managing my expectations, I am not surprised when the boy baby does not listen but does a little bit more screaming instead. Everything is all ok because soon we will be at soft play, and everyone will be happy again and I will be drinking coffee.

This all plans out fairly well for approximately 8 seconds, until I hear my name screeched from the top of the very highest slide. It is the girl baby. And she has wet herself. And she is devastated. I do not claim to be in any way agile, fit or sprightly. But I climbed my big massive bum off. Twisted my body into un-body like shapes, to get to my girl who was sad. I could feel a big cry coming on. I was feeling a teeny went bit fed up of the day already, and now the boy baby was crying as I wasn’t in his immediate line of vision at all times.

The girl baby is crying and wet. The boy baby is crying. All of the parents are looking around curiously to find the mother of all of the crying children who is currently half stuck in a hole, crying herself.

When I reach the girl baby I decide it is unwise to take the quickest route down, which is down the slide. This is because she is all covered in wee. So we both head back the way we came (which FYI is much more difficult than climbing up). Finally we are down and I have cuddled her and told her over and over that it doesn’t matter and that she is ace and that she is my bestest friend. I think the end is in sight as we head off to the toilets to clean her up with the boy baby, finally reunited with me after all of that time…..closely following.

Granted I have only bought a spare outfit for the boy baby, because the girl one never needs it these days. But there are worse things than her having to wear some slightly too small boy leggings for a couple of hours. For example, I don’t know, having absolutely nothing to wear because the boy baby chooses that exact moment to do a big massive wee in his own clothes for funsies. I am literally out of all of the ideas and my actual soul is dead, but once again my super friend appears at the door with her babies’ spare leggings and socks. This is because mum friends are amazing.

Off we went back to enjoy our ruddy time at soft play, and for the most part, the babies did. But it was too late for me. It was all I could do to hold back tears and my lovely mum friends so wonderfully ignoring it made me want to fall to pieces and lie down on their lovely Mummy laps.

When we finally left, and the babies were in their seats and their CD was on the radio, I cried and I cried and I cried.

I cried because the bank wouldn’t give me any of my own money, I cried because I thought everyone was looking at me wondering why I had no money to take my babies to soft play, I cried because I have emotionally traumatised my babies by taking them in and then out of soft play. And then in again. I cried because I looked incompetent in front of all of the people. I cried because I looked ridiculous climbing the soft play. I cried because my heart hurt for my girl baby who had wet herself. I cried because I am worried she is poorly. I cried because I had to leave the boy baby to help her, and I cried because I shouted when he wet himself after I had just asked him if he needed the toilet. I cried with guilt, worry and regret. I cried because I didn’t take enough spare clothes and I was just downright failing at all of life. I cried because I had to ask for help. I cried because I felt so, so sad.

When I started writing my blog, I wanted to be completely honest about all of the things. Or else, what was the point. But I suppose I started writing it when I was in a healthier place and did not truly consider having to be honest about how I felt when I wasn’t. But here we are, and I’m going to carry on being honest because I’m trying really hard to remember that I’m not alone in any of this.

I am furious that I am feeling poorly again. Completely and utterly furious, and also really frightened. This is because I am doing all of the things that I can to stay well, and if I can still feel poorly despite all of this then it feels there is nothing else to do but accept it.

I feel pathetic and tiresome and like I am a burden to everyone who loves me. And I am not saying any of this for them to disagree or because they have ever been anything but wonderful. I am saying it because it is true and maybe someone else can relate and know that they aren’t alone in feeling that way either. Depression is absolutely a big massive knob.

However. I know that I will feel better again. Even if I don’t feel it right now or know how it will happen. I also know that the very fact I am writing this means that something is different because when I have been poorly before I would not have had this in me. I am proud. I am proud that I have not yet had a lovely drink. I am proud that I am still doing that stupid vapey thing and not smoking. I am proud that sometimes, I ask for help.

I know that I put a huge amount of pressure on myself to be a good Mum. This is all that I want to be in all of the world. And ironically (ruddy irony) it is that that probably makes me question my ability and capacity to do absolutely anything at all well. I have created an expectation of myself that is not only completely unrealistic but also pretty damaging.

My well self, knows that when I am well, nothing is really any different at all. Mornings like yesterday would still happen (You actually couldn’t make it up), and I am not saying that I wouldn’t be a teeny weeny bit stressed because, well come on. But I would probably cry less. I would probably talk to my lovely mum friends, and I wouldn’t feel physically paralysed by all of the awful feelings inside of me. Depression doesn’t necessarily change anything. But it absolutely changes how you feel about it.

I don’t want to be a big whingy boo hoo, because that’s actually not at all who I am. But in the interest of honesty I thought I’d be honest about where I am right this moment.

I’m still taking all of the lovely drugs and if things don’t improve I will go back to my doctor and sob at him again. He likes it when I do this. I am telling my mum, my friends, HH that I am struggling. I hate to admit that, but I have hidden it before and it all went really really wrong. I am prioritising the most important things and I am doing the best that I can do with others. And this afternoon I have an appointment with my best friend the therapist which I am super excited about.

Everything is going to be ok.

Today I am grateful for the following*;

1 – Absolutely all of the lovely people that read my ramblings

2 – Friends who buy me coffee

3 – Trainers

Toria x

*It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.

Day 42

It is very typical that when it is my turn to take the boy baby to football, it is completely freezing. It has taken all of the day for my legs to warm up again and they still feel a bit odd now. I absolutely love watching him at football because he is super cute and as he is still my tiny little baby, he likes me to stay close by so he can run up for a cuddle now and again. This makes my heart explode in to a hundred million pieces and think silly thoughts about having more babies. He hasn’t quite grasped the concept of actual football yet but I can tell that will totally come soon and he will absolutely stop picking up the ball and running across all of the pitches with it.

Urghhh. Sometimes I feel like I am always the big goblin bad guy Mummy though. This is because I tend to be the one that suggests that everyone calm the hell down and stops playing sharks just before bedtime. I feel I am constantly saying things like, “One more minute” whilst no one listens and mostly that is absolutely fine. But sometimes, like today, it can feel a bit like I imagine drowning feels.

What I want to say is that tonight, just for once I would like to not do bedtime. I don’t want to enforce any rules or explain for the millionth time why sleep is super important. I just don’t want too. I don’t have it in me. I want to avoid any activity that will potentially result in me having to be the parent and provide boundaries to keep them safe and happy. Babies do not understand anything that is for their own good. They just think Mummy is mean.

The amazing thing about raising babies with another person is that you share the load. So when one of you really feels at the end of their tether the other takes one for the team and jumps in. Like a relay with the baton and stuff. HH has always been super willing to do that, but if I am honest when the girl baby was born I set a precedent for our family that I was to do all of the things for her. HH was my support guy. I didn’t mean to do this, but with becoming a mother has also come the expectancy of myself that I have to do absolutely everything for the babies. And that I have to do absolutely everything perfectly because they are my babies, and that is what it is to be a mother.

That is not what it is to be a mother. That is what it is to be someone that is a mental person and will at some point lose all of their shit. Enter me. Whilst I do realise now that I have to allow HH the opportunities to share the actual parenting, it is still hard to do this willingly and without tremendous guilt. I am also learning that he does things differently, but that this is not wrong (it is sometimes wrong). The babies need to understand that we both enforce their boundaries and that Mummy and Daddy are a team.

It can be tricky to do all of these things that we should do though, because it can be hard to find any consistency in our routine at the moment as HH is often at work or uni. This is why I am generally the one doing the rubbishy stuff like insisting on baths and encouraging manners, and why HH is the fun one who plays sharks before bed.

I’m still not feeling my usual fabulous self so I know I am over thinking (obsessing about) all of the things more so than usual. When I feel this way everything just feels like a bit of a struggle and I cant process things too well.

What I do know, is that I am so much better at asking for what I need than I used to be. So tonight, HH has taken the babies to bed. And they were totally cool with it which is an actual massive breakthrough. This has meant that I can sit very quietly without telling anyone that they have one more minute to do anything.

Today I am grateful for the following*;

1 – HH having an evening off

2 – HH putting the babies to bed

3 – The babies understanding that Daddy can put them to bed too

4 -Scarves

Toria x

*It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.


Day 41

Boy Baby – Mummy can you draw me please?

Me – “What a picture of you? yes of course, I would love to draw you because you are the most handsomest thing I have ever seen in my whole entire life”

Boy Baby (scathingly) – “No. I am paper. draw me.”

Me – “You…you want me to draw ON you. As though you are paper”

Boy Baby -“Yes Mummy, because I am paper draw a picture on me.”

Me – “Boy baby I am not going to draw on you with pens, you had a bath this morning.”

Boy Baby – (rolls eyes) – “Not with pens Mummy, with my dinosaur torch because that is the pen for when I am being paper.”

Me – ………..

Boy Baby – “I will lie down because paper always lies down.”

And that was bed time. The End.

I am still feeling a teeny weeny bit flat today. But I am trying super hard to keep it in perspective and understand that it is normal for this to happen from time to time. I am not very good at keeping any of the things in perspective and this is something my best friend the therapist has to remind me to do most weeks.

What has been nice, is that I have had a lovely day with the babies just bimbling around in town doing some errands and buying cool stuff like balloons and pick and mix. I absolutely love pick and mix, and as I let the babies loose with the tiny little shovel things I felt a bit like how I imagine I will feel if they ever get married. The other reason that we ventured into town was because the girl baby had to go for an eye test. This was what I like to call a “fluke parental win”, as I was of the impression that you only needed to get your eyes tested when you started straining to see words and stuff. But apparently, children should get them checked before they start school. The only reason I found this out was because last time I went to the opticians, she asked me question that I didn’t hear and asked her to repeat twice…and still did not hear. Because I am socially inept, I nodded (she was facing the other way), and changed the subject by saying casually “I wonder if the babies will ever need their eyes tested”….The optician then told me all of the reasons for which they would indeed need to have their eyes tested. I heard all of this.

Anyway, it turns out our lovely girl baby is short sighted. as a side note, I will NEVER understand which way around short and long sighted are in respect of what you can and cant see very well. But for the time being she’s totally rocking seeing stuff. The optician thinks though, that she will need some glasses in a year or two. The girl baby and I are super excited about this because it will be ace finding loads of cool specs for her. I am also pleased because its something I can buy that HH cant tell me off even a little bit for as its totally a medical necessity.

Not drinking any of the lovely drinks has been really tough the last couple of days. Really tough. And I’ve been questioning why I am even doing this because I totally don’t have a drinking problem at all. I just drink too much, to often. Which is kind of a drinking problem.

I’m super proud of myself for sticking with it so far though, as I hate sticking to stuff. And I am really hoping that I see some improvement in how quickly I pull myself out of this teeny weeny low place this time as a result. I really think I will. I know I am already feeling a bit better because I am making a hypothetical birthday list for HH, which I absolutely know he will love.

Today I am grateful for the following*;

1 – Pick and Mix

2 – Balloons

3 – Laughing with the babies

Toria x

*It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.