Mum Life-Crisis

After much deliberation, I've decided to add my dribble to the giant puddle of the blogosphere. I've had various blogs over the years that have never amounted to much, probably due to my utter lack of blog writing. Hopefully, as I'm currently on maternity leave, I'll show this one a little more care and attention. I'm not blogging with any sense of purpose or theme. More using it as a space to think out loud about THINGS. Dunno what THINGS I'll think about yet either. I'm freestyling.

It's hard to know where to begin this blog. Perhaps with some context. I'm 28 and a new mum to a shiny, brand spanking new baby, affectionately referred to as The Kraken. This name stems from his early days in the moses basket. He has a tendency to wiggle and growl as he comes round, and all we would see when he woke were flailing limbs emerging over the side of the basket, accompanied by squawks, gurgles and roars worthy of any mythological deep-sea creature. 'The Kraken doth awaken' became code for 'Your turn to change his arse' and lo, the legend was born.

So far, I'm finding motherhood to be...interesting. I adore The Kraken. He was a very much longed for baby, and after a bit of heartache and uncertainty, we both feel very blessed to have him. We've got our little routine worked out, things are settling down after the first few crazy weeks and I'm slowly adjusting to motherhood. It's so strange but nice to think of myself as a plural, rather than in the singular. Lately though, I've noticed a change in the way I behave. I've termed it 'The Mum Life-Crisis'. I'm dying my hair turquoise (when I get a few hours to myself, new baby innit?), dressing in a style that I've not worn since I was 19, and listening to music from the glory days of my youth. KoRn, System of a Down etc. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I even downloaded a Limp Bizkit song just because it reminded me of dancing round like an utter knob with my friends back at Maximes Rock Nite circa 2002. It's as if the arrival of SCARY REAL GROWN UP LIFE has sent me running mentally back to my happy place, dancing like a hussy to NIN's Closer, with jeans wide enough to camp in and a quart of badly applied black eyeliner, clutching a pint of Red Witch and snogging some lad who 'plays guitar in a band'. In real life, I'm dancing to the Baby Jake song, in jeans with a wide enough waist to fit a baby bump in (still not relinquished my maternity jeans), clutching a breast pump. The eyeliner is still there, however I now embrace the 'less is more' maxim, and the boy who plays guitar is there - not so much snogging now though (again, new baby innit?).

Don't get me wrong. I love being a mum. The Kraken is quite clearly the best little boy ever to grace the planet, and is obviously going to be a handsome genius when he's older. I just can't seem to accept the fact that I'm someone's MUM. I am a mum. I am apparently old enough, and responsible enough to be raising a child. I keep thinking they'll find me out. (Not sure who 'they' are, but you know what I mean) It's hard to reconcile the 'me' of the past with this new 'me', hence my longing for all the things that represent the young, carefree, drunken me.

 I am officially in the grip of a 'Mum-life Crisis'. Send help, more eyeliner and a copy of a Lost Prophets album. \m/