I am also a human being who feels tested by motherhood and not a robot programmed to remain delighted with life at all times. I do have regard for those less fortunate than myself; I also have regard for the thousands of mums who feel alone when they are having a rotten day. They are not alone, and I intend to keep telling them so.
In short, you can fuck right off.
Warmest regards,
The Unmumsy (but most definitely not Ungrateful) Mum
The Parenting Rollercoaster
That wise philosopher Ronan Keating once told us that life is a rollercoaster, and I’m pretty sure he was talking about parenthood.
It’s true: I was fairly emotionally expressive before having kids. I have been known to shout, ‘Pick a lane, any lane, you wanker!’ while driving. I have also been known to laugh hysterically on drunken nights out and cry at the Britain’s Got Talent VTs where the contestant explains that it’s the first time they’ve had the courage to sing since their cat died.
I knew there was an emotional range there to start with. But I’ve never known a rollercoaster of emotions quite like the last four years of my life and, in many ways, that has proved the hardest adjustment of all.
Gone are the good days and bad days: life is much harder to classify emotionally now I’m a mum. Sometimes, I encounter the full spectrum of emotions in one day. Sometimes, I encounter the full spectrum of emotions in one hour. It’s rarely possible to sense when they will hit.
There are times when I feel angry. Try as I might to suppress those feelings of fury (believe me, I try), there is only so much food refusal, sofa dive-bombing and incessant whingeing that one mortal can take. I mutter, ‘For fuck’s sake,’ at least 127 times a day (while sighing) and I hate what the Mum Me sounds like. She sighs too much.
There are times when I feel guilty. For not being the best, for not always giving my best and for downgrading overall standards from good to good enough. I’m disappointed in my ‘that’ll do’ style of parenting but it turns out ‘that’ll do’ is quite often all I’ve got.
There are times when I feel happy and really bloody thankful, bursting with pride and gratitude for all that I have and all that we are as a family. Those are the times when I find myself laughing at hilarious things the boys have done or smiling until my cheeks hurt, wondering what I could possibly have done to deserve so much greatness in my life.
There are times when I feel scared. Scared of how much I love them. Scared about letting them go out into the big wide world (okay, school, but it is bigger and much wider than the living room). You only have to watch the news at teatime to know there is some seriously messed-up shit going on around us. I feel scared when I can’t see them or hear them. Even when they have a sleepover at my mother-in-law’s, I can’t bear to look at their empty beds because I know it would trick my mind into thinking what if . . . what if the unthinkable ever happened?
And it all takes its toll, doesn’t it?
The laughing, then crying, then shouting, then worrying and then laughing some more. It’s not surprising parents feel tired. Being a parent is so emotionally draining, so unpredictable, that at times I long for calm. I long to go to work and feel mildly stressed about targets before coming home to drink wine without worrying about how I’m doing in my other role – the unpaid but more important role, the role that has put me in charge of raising small human beings, the role that has completely and utterly changed my life.
I think back to all the times I have declared, ‘I would rather be anywhere else!’ and, in the heat of those moments, I can assure you that I meant it. Yet I’ve come to realise that, without my boys, anywhere else would be empty. Calmer, more predictable, less shouty, with less chance of crying in the downstairs loo, but empty all the same.
Maybe we just have to accept the unpredictability.
To take the crushing lows along with the pretty remarkable highs. To plough through the shower of shit days safe in the knowledge that there are brighter, less shitty days to come.
I think Ronan was right about the rollercoaster.
We just gotta ride it.
Resources
The following are some of the organisations that can provide support should you feel unable to cope, or think you might be suffering from post-natal depression.
Pandas Foundation
www.pandasfoundation.org.uk
0843 28 98 401
The Association for Postnatal Illness
apni.org
020 7386 0868
Cry-sis
www.cry-sis.org.uk
08451 228 669
NCT – The National Childbirth Trust
www.nct.org.uk
Postnatal line 0300 330 0773
Samaritans
www.samaritans.org
08457 90 90 90
Mind
www.mind.org.uk
0300 123 3393
Acknowledgements
There are so many people I would like to thank, so I will jump straight in. Hannah Ferguson, thank you for believing in this book and for continuing to take such good care of me as my agent. Transworld team, thank you for making this happen: what a remarkably clever and lovely bunch you all are. Special thanks go to Michelle Signore, Sophie Christopher, Louise Jones and absolutely not forgetting Harriet Bourton, who kick-started the whole adventure before sodding off on maternity leave ;-)
Dad, thank you for everything (now is as good a time as any to thank you for the last twenty-nine years). Tina, Becca, Ena, Andrew and all the family who have offered support (particularly with childcare, the most useful support of all) – thank you. Thanks to friends and colleagues, old and new, who have helped me to feel excited about taking a leap into the unknown.
Mary-Anne, thank you for all your words of best-friend encouragement and for sharing my blogs far and wide before anybody else did. Mel, thank you for offering a space where I could sigh a lot (and for sometimes joining in with the sighing). Thanks also to the people I’ve met online who have become true friends: Lizzi, Dee, Ella and far too many wonderfully charming bloggers to mention.
James, my wonderful James, thank you for being level-headed whenever I ‘go off on one’ and for making me cups of tea even when it’s my turn. We make a great team, you and me. Henry and Jude, thank you for inspiring me to write and for making me proud beyond belief. I’m sorry I have at times been too busy typing to notice your shouts of, ‘Mummy, look at me!’ Let’s go on holiday soon, and I’ll leave the laptop at home.
Finally, I would like to thank the followers of my blog and social-media pages for reading, sharing and regularly making me cry with laughter at your comments and pictures. You have helped me to feel less like a failing misfit of motherhood and, for that, I am eternally grateful.
About the Author
Sarah Turner lives in Devon with her husband and their two boys. She started writing as The Unmumsy Mum after becoming disillusioned with the other parenting literature she had read online. Everybody seemed to be coping so well. Where were the tales of mums tearing their hair out after yet another sleepless night and endless re-runs of Peppa Pig? She made a vow then and there to document the reality of parenting, and her blog page (theunmumsymum.blogspot.co.uk) and subsequent Facebook page (www.facebook.com/theunmumsymum) were born. You can follow Sarah’s everyday parenting grumbles on Twitter @theunmumsymum.
TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS
61–63 Uxbridge Road, London W5 5SA
www.transworldbooks.co.uk
Transworld is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
First published in Great Britain in 2016 by Bantam Press
an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Copyright © Sarah Turner 2016
Sarah Turner has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to
copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologize for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781473527126
ISBN 9780593076446
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
The Unmumsy Mum Page 20