It’s safe to say its been pretty full on of late. Sometimes my mentalness actually astounds me. I just casually signed myself up to do two pretty hefty conference presentations the week before moving home. With a new baby. Both of which I just casually rocked up at with said baby while still breastfeeding. And wearing heels for the first time in a year. I am an actual loon. But I don’t really think about what I’m doing until after, I just get really excited about opportunities to do stuff, motherhood related or business orientated. I just catch my breath afterwards and think ‘blimey you’re actually a nutbag, it must be tiring being you. Oh I am you. Lets go to bed’.
Going public work wise after having a baby is a funny old game. Ok ,so Indy was only about 12 weeks when I was standing up to present again, which is really no time at all, but when you’ve worked so hard at job for years then stepped away and ‘gone cold turkey’ for a few months in which time you’ve pushed a new human out your nether bits, it kind of feels like a lifetime. I always feel for women stepping back into their careers after having a baby – not in a ‘sob, sob, isn’t it so hard, woe is us type way’, no way, we chose to do it, get on with it, but more of a ‘keep it together sister, you’re gonna be ok’ type vibe. There is this uncertainty before you go back into work post baby, this kind of ‘shit, can I actually still do this?’ moment where you feel woozy and sick. And most of the mummies I know who are in love with their careers as well as their families, put this unrealistic amount of pressure on themselves to ‘prove’ to everyone that they’ve still got it. That motherhood hasn’t ‘dumbed them down’ or made them less productive. I dunno why we do it to ourselves. Sometimes I wish I could stand up in a presentation and say ‘I’m going to do this presentation now and I’m going to smash it, but as I recently went through childbirth please don’t be alarmed if I wet myself or swear’.
Anyway I think it all went well. In fact I know it went well. I was presenting at both conferences with a panel of kids who as usual stole the show with their wittiness and insightful thoughts. God I love kids, they are so much more fun than adults. Luckily my young accomplices also provided a great diversion from the fact I was struggling to breathe from the constricting ‘fat pants’ aka tummy control pants I insisted on wearing. And don’t even start on why I also decided to wear leather panelled leggings. Hot you think? Yeah you’d be right. Flip me, I was having a total Ross from Friends moment, BRING ME THE TALC!!! Luckily my team are so versatile and talented they can handle anything thrown at them – ‘quick I’m going on stage take Indy!’ (this is a photo of the lovely Lorna from my team btw, sadly my diet and hair growing attempts are moving quite that speedily!!!)
Anyway it’s ok. I think I can still do my job. Phew. And breathe. Actually, as I experienced with Phoenix when I set up The Pineapple Lounge, having babies kind of gives me this weird confidence – because if I can push that out with no pain relief then surely anything is possible right!? No one can touch me right? (no, literally don’t touch me, I’m still recovering). Nothing in life is more difficult, painful and emotionally challenging than being a parent. Hard work, hard fun, hard core. It’s incredible and in comparison, anything else is a breeze.
After the conferences were over it was time to move house.
When I was about 36 weeks pregnant I received a charming email informing me our landlord wanted the house back and we were being booted out. I said to Ben ‘OMG, we’re like a 20th century Mary and Joseph’. Needless to say at a point when I was launching into nesting mode, I was freaked out. I terrified the estate agent (with my sheer size and tears) to giving us an extension and after some stressful months of searching, wondering and calculating, we got a mortgage, got a house and now we’re in it. God it feels so good. I actually feel quite emotional about the whole thing; we have a such a lovely family and are so lucky to have jobs we’re passionate about, I never really realised how much I was frustrated that we didn’t have our own home to call ours and make our own. The thing about renting is that while it serves a purpose, there is something that just feels so temporary about it. It’s like an extended limbo – you know you want to move and buy at some point, but when? How? Where? You’re always in transition it feels like, which with two kids is not where you want to be. Now we’re here I suddenly feel like this big weight has been lifted off me.
But moving with two kids? I mean seriously, what the heck? SO MUCH STUFF! That was one epic move. We had no movers or packers, just my dad who I think nearly keeled over (his tea intake was dangerously low until I dug out the kettle). We’re never doing that again, it was three days of: Pack, box, breastfeed, play burglars, REPEAT. Nightmare. SO lovely to be in for Xmas though! Can’t wait to start Christmasses at home and create our own little traditions…
Yeah about Christmas…When it comes to that, I never really matured beyond the mental age of about 9. I can’t get enough of it. I still make my mum a list. I’m one of those people who gets their tree up at the earliest acceptable date, who starts shopping in October, who puts glitter on everything and has the Magic Christmas music channel on loop.
Phoenix is at such a good Xmas age now, he’s fully into the whole Santa thing (as opposed to last year when he was every so slightly terrified about a strange man coming into his house – fair point). But you have to be seriously on your toes with kids and the whole Santa thing. I mean it people – get your story straight, if you’re approaching Xmas with a three year old prepare yourself for some of this….
He’s making a list
What sort of list? Where does he write it? Where I am I on it? Does he pen or chalk?
He’s checking it twice
In case he forgets me? Am I on it? Mummy AM I ON IT?!
He’s going to find out who’s naughty and nice
Am I nice mummy? Yes. Well I’m not naughty, I’m a good boy. I know I’m a good boy because I eat my broccoli. Look at my muscles (flexes muscles like weird child body builder) SEE. And I’m tall. (dismounts scooter and just stops still on footpath on tip toes) So will I get a Santa present?
Santa Claus is coming to town
Which town? How is going to all the towns? Will he go to Granny’s house? And nanna’s house? And will he leave presents for me too at their houses? Will he fly there? With his reindeer? Will they have enough carrots?
He knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you’re awake…
But how does he know? When I’m awake does he know I’m asleep like last week. That makes no sense. But mummy will I get a santa present?!
He knows if you’re been good or bad, so be good for goodness sake
I just did a trumpet. Will I still get a Santa present?
My I dropped my cheerios will I still get a Santa present?
Indy can’t have Santa presents because she’s too small. And they’re only for boys. Boys who are three. Called Phoenix. And my friend Oliver. Will I still get a Santa present now?
Is it Christmas tomorrow?
Is it Christmas now?
Is Santa coming next week or today?
So yeah, get your story straight people. Alternatively come and ask Phoenix as he seems to have all bases covered.
Ho Ho Ho!