It’s taken me 16 months, but I’ve cracked it.
I’ve relinquished control of my life.
I organise nothing, I no longer write 100 lists of packing for a quick weekend away. I buy birthday cards on the day of birthdays and I decide what to wear to a wedding on the morning of said wedding.
Sometimes there is no milk left in the fridge or nothing for dinner. We are all still alive I hasten to add.
I have tried for 16 months to be a good wife, friend, sister, daughter and mother. I have failed spectacularly at all of these because I am no longer organised and this change has probably been noted by mum2011 stakeholders. It’s not because I don’t care, I care lots but my capacity for remembering things and my energy for executing things has been ruined by a year and a half of minimal sleep and feeling like cook, cleaner and laundry woman.
I have decided that my newly established disorganised ways are not because of the pressures of modern life or being a working mother.
They’re because I’m chubby.
I suppose it’s also because my hair is always a mess and my nail varnish is always chipped.
I don’t have the same level of confidence post baby birth. Therefore to plan and fail is upsetting. Whereas not planning and failing means I can shrug and say, I’m disorganised (because of the pressures of modern life and because I’m a working mum).
It’s easier to have messy hair than to wrestle red hot hair straighteners from a 16 month old boy who and it’s easier to have chipped nail polish than risk having hot pink metallic splurges up the white walls of the front room.
In fact whilst writing this I’ve realised, it’s not bad organisation that’s giving me low self esteem and the lack of “me time” everyone says you should enjoy as a mum (how!?).
No, in fact it’s risk management…