Bonkers Read online

  God knows.

  But I’ll tell you what I did prove to myself by this ridiculous act:

  a) that NO mum should attempt to go anywhere near pre-baby jeans until at least twelve months postpartum

  and

  b) that denim really does catch fire quite quickly.

  POST-BABY BODY INSTASHAMING

  OK, so I am just going to put it out there and say it, NO HOLDS BARRED …

  I CANNOT STAND BEFORE BUMP versus POSTPARTUM PHOTOS

  #fookoff #whocares #bullshit

  S.E.R.I.O.U.S.L.Y.

  Social media is flooded with these visual statements from fellow mums posting pics of themselves postpartum, making a point of always standing sideways, always in pristine gym gear of the obligatory skimpy but classy sporty underwear that says fit and healthy mum – and definitely not body-shaming exhibitionist.

  They are always detailed with how many weeks postpartum (the fewer the weeks, the louder we tweet ‘WOW LOOK AT HER ABS’) and always make other mums want to comment #fuckyoubiach.

  Why do we need to see these pics? And, more importantly, why do we feel the need to share them with the rest of the world at large?

  Now before you call the McJudgey pants police on me or try the feminist edged reply of: ‘I’m empowering other women. I’m showing them that they too can look like this postpartum’, I would just like to stop you there and say: BALONEY!

  I don’t believe you.

  I’ve heard all the statements, along the lines of ‘I’m celebrating the amazing thing that my body has done by sharing it, dressed in my undercrackers with a million other people in the hope that I get …’

  Get what, is what I would like to ask? What is it that we as a society hope to get from it?

  That is the real crux of the question.

  As a mum of two tiny humans with quite a good post-baby body – i.e. one that still works, only leaks wee involuntarily if I sneeze really hard or miscalculate the height of my star jump on the bouncy castle at the local soft play, one that is strong enough to carry a tantruming two-and-a-half-year-old and a sulky four-year-old AT THE SAME TIME – I never once felt the need to post pics of my tummy nine weeks after pushing a tiny human out of my vagina.

  I am a feminist and a huge fan and champion of fellow females. Therefore, I am all for empowering women and celebrating the quite frankly awesome roles our bodies do and feel there is nothing more beautiful than a woman who is comfortable and confident in her own skin and encouraging other women to celebrate their own bodies in all their glorious, technicolour shapes and sizes.

  But, I don’t buy that this style of posts and images are an example of that. I don’t buy that the main aim of them is to lift up other women and celebrate all bodies regardless of shape, muscle definition or length of postpartum progress. I don’t believe that their purpose is a true and honest celebration of the female form or a confidence boost to other mums, a much-needed form of ‘mummy motivation’.

  They just make me question, ‘Why?’.

  Why does someone feel the need to share these quite intimate pictures of themselves? I’m not saying you should never take pics of yourself pre- and postpartum to document how mad and crazy it is that your skin can stretch to the size of a continent and then back again like a humungous skin tsunami wave. Take them, save them to show your tiny humans the magnificence of the female body so when they are older they can see what an extraordinary, amazing and strong body their mummy has.

  But what is the point of showing them to others, complete strangers in particular, on the Internet?

  And why title the pics ‘Look at me, bouncing back three weeks postpartum’ #fitmum #noexcuses #gettothegym #notlazy.

  Aggghhhhh! I just want to hashtag the hell out of these posts with a big fat #whocares.

  Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for mums looking after our health and keeping our mind and bodies strong. I love the feeling and freedom of being able to run without tiny humans hanging off my ankles and taking a slice of me-time through exercise. It does my body good, but most importantly it keeps my mind strong.

  What I don’t buy into is the reasoning behind why a fellow mum would feel the need to post such pics under titles such as ‘Bouncing back after just three weeks’ or ‘Wow, I’m already back into my skinny jeans’ and then plaster them all over social media for strangers and fellow mums who may also happen to be three weeks postpartum to see and compare themselves to.

  Now, this is where I have to make a little confession here and be completely, toe-curlingly honest with you. I once wrote a Facebook status that read:

  ‘3 months in and back in my skinny jeans’

  (#whataknob)

  And I’m now going to be even more nails-down-a-blackboard honest with you. (This is killing me to admit this to you, since I fear you will want to break either our friendship or my neck, but it is so important to share this with you.)

  That post did not come from a good place. I did not do it to empower other mums. To help other mums celebrate their bodies. To motivate. No, I was doing it to show off, to say to the world, ‘Look at me, I had a baby only twelve weeks ago and I’ve already snapped back into my Size 10 jeans – look at me go!’. This was obviously proof of what a great yummy mummy, hot wife, sexy friend, all-round amazing human being I am. In fact, scrap that, what an amazing SUPERhuman being I am.

  Here I am. Having it all – the baby, the hubby, and the skinny bloody jeans to boot. Motherhood has not set me back. Oh no, I am still keeping all my shit together, I am acing all the new mum malarkey, taking it all in my stride. Breezing through the sleepless nights, loving every minute of it and look, I am back in my skinny jeans to prove what a skinny legend I am.

  What a knob, ladies and gents, what a bloody knob!

  So, you see, there you have it. I know first hand what these type of posts mean because I’ve been their author. However, I am honest enough not to bullshit you about me doing it to motivate and celebrate other mums and their postpartum bodies. I am ripping off the skinny jeans plaster and admitting the dark, narcissistic and, quite frankly, unhealthy place this post came from. And come on, if we are all honest we can all admit to some degree that this ugly little corner exists in all of our minds and personalities. If not, then I simply don’t believe you. We all want to show the world (particularly after becoming a mum) that we are doing a good job, that no, motherhood has not fazed us. That we are carrying on as normal just with a baby slotted into our lives. That we are all over this new life like a knackered mum over a lie-in.

  Posting up pics of how we’ve bounced back, giving ourselves #noexcuses and then hiding it under the raison d’être of wanting to motivate other mums is doing a disservice to every mum – hell, every woman – out there.

  You see, what we don’t acknowledge is that it just makes the majority of other mums feel a bit crap. It makes other mums question why they are not #bouncingback. It gets them questioning what their #excuses are for not going on a run and bench-pressing their babies until toned to perfection. It generally smacks of the competitive edge, still too sharp to touch, from our playground days.

  I don’t know why we do it to ourselves and each other. Why we feed this ridiculous pressure, and add to the images portrayed in the media, by believing in the perfect wife and perfect mother with her perfect wardrobe that hangs perfectly off a perfect body. Again, all total BALONEY, my friend.

  And what’s more, posting pics up and statements hidden under the claim of offering motivation is just fuelling the perfect body propaganda that we have all been enduring for the majority of our existence – and trying to ignore for fear of becoming unhealthily obsessed with every inch of our bodies, sucking on a piece of lettuce and believing that if we could just get back into our skinny jeans then everything will be right in the world.

  NO. NO. A million times, NO.

  Let’s stop the instashaming and just instead ask ourselves before we make a post celebrating our weight loss, our postpartum be
llies, our squeezing back into our pre-baby skinny jeans: What place is this coming from? Let’s answer it and then ask ourselves the question again – but this time let’s all answer it honestly, no matter how much the answer touches a raw nerve in the grimier, less exposed part of our minds. No matter how much the answer makes us squirm. No matter if the answer makes us feel a bit of a dick.

  Then, if our honest-to-god, hand-on-heart answer is anything other than ‘To provide a positive body image message to empower myself and other women out there’, let’s do all of ourselves a favour and just not post it. Instead save the pics, show them to our partners, print them off, stick them to our fridges and use them for our own personal motivation – not to deplete that of others.

  As fellow mums and women, we have a responsibility to lift each other up. To support each other, to encourage and say, ‘You know what, it’s OK’. No judgement! Let’s make it our personal mission to weave this mission into our everyday lives, from conversations in the park, comments at the school gates and the dialogue we put out there on social media.

  Let’s make it so we are responsible for celebrating each other’s successes rather than failures and showing how beautiful we are when we stand together in support. And let’s all remember that the most important part of our body that we need to be fit is our minds.

  CHAPTER 16

  THE EVERY MUM GUIDE TO BEING A DAD

  DADS, YOU’RE NOT JUST SPERM DONORS!

  Yes, I know it’s a bit bloody rich for me to sit here and claim that I can talk about fatherhood, especially as I have a vagina. However, bear with me and my knackered self for just a moment. You see, one of my missions with this book is to bridge the gaps between all the areas of parenthood, to speak about all the issues we face – no judgement and no fear. So I would just like to put this idea out there: if as partners we spoke openly to each other about all the stuff that was getting under our skin, about all the crap that we feel we can’t talk about to each other but which is widening the gap of irritation between us then, then wow, our lives as exhausted and bewildered parents would be a damn sight easier. And if not easier, then at least more fun and with more chances of sexual encounters!

  I believe passionately that dads (like us mums) need a support network, need a voice and, most importantly, need to be heard. Bringing a tiny human into the world has a profound effect on the men in our lives too. Dads are not just babysitters. Shock horror, they can be trusted to care for their own flesh and blood. They have certain areas of this parenting malarkey down better than us mums. And given everything motherhood throws at us, we would be lost without them.

  Yes, some dads are a bit shit and some are total arseholes, but so are some mums. Being parents is the most challenging thing we will all ever do together and yes, some of us don’t make it out the other side still together. But let’s at least give ourselves a fighting chance by being honest about how we are feeling, no matter how ugly. Lets’ own this parenting malarkey and not let the fooker take us down!

  IT’S A S*** FIGHT FOR NEW DADS TOO

  When it comes to parenthood us mums get the raw end of the deal, going through labour and then all the recovery, emotions and hormones we have to deal with afterwards. However, those poor bastards otherwise known as the daddies have to put up with a hell of a lot too, just without any of the recognition.

  Pregnancy and parenthood is like a grand theatre production where us women and our bumps take centre stage from the moment the curtain goes up. Yes, your partner may be awarded the role of supporting actor during the pregnancy, but once your bundle of joy bursts onto the scene he will be lucky if he is allowed the title of janitor. While everyone and their nan is cooing over you and the baby, telling you how great you look and how well you have done, your poor bloke will be looking on from the sidelines screaming, ‘I wasn’t just a sperm donor!’.

  No ‘Well done! You donated good genes’, no ‘How are you feeling?’ and no offers of advice on how to fathom out the bewildering world of fatherhood. Instead, they are left to figure it out for themselves, hope for the best and then get themselves back to work.

  As we mums, albeit sitting on a rubber ring or ice pack, are trying to figure out our new role in life and get our heads around the responsibility of motherhood, so too is he. You see, parenthood has also happened to him. He, like ourselves, has also been flung into a whole new world of the unknown. He too has a new role in life that he needs to get his head and heart around. Yes, he may not have pushed a baby out of a vagina, but he saw his best friend and the one person he loves most in the world push one out of theirs – pretty bloody terrifying!

  We have months to try and get our head around childbirth and the new position of mummy. Months to talk to our growing tiny human and share plans, creating an infinite bond that will never break. For we already know and love our tiny human before they get here. We have read all the numerous books on motherhood in preparation and signed up to all the mum and baby forums. We therefore have a huge head start. By contrast, when the baby arrives, he has just a couple of weeks with you full time to try and catch up to where you are before he then has to leave his new family bubble and head back out to work and into normality.

  For him, nothing has changed on the face of things. His body is still the same and his bits have not been stretched to oblivion. He may not bear the marks of bringing a tiny human into the world, but he also has his own set of challenges to overcome – and all without a parenting book or support group in sight.

  We all know the pressures we face as mums, but does anyone ever stop long enough to consider the pressures faced by the new dads in our lives? And, more importantly, to ask them if they also need a vent, a glass of wine or a bit of support?

  We are not the only ones with anxieties about being a parent and challenges to our own identity. We are just the ones more able to talk about it and with more avenues to do so. We are not the only ones who are figuring out our relationship with our tiny human and how best to look after them. However, by the very nature of carrying them for nine months and by being their mum, we are the ones who have the last word on their care, from what they are wearing through to when and how they are fed. We as mums are in the driving seat and we have the majority of the control, which can at times leave the dads twiddling their thumbs and feeling a bit redundant.

  We may feel as though we have lost ourselves along the way and are struggling to remember our pre-baby self, but he is there also feeling lost and struggling to find the right words to help you navigate your way through the new mum fog. We think he doesn’t understand – and he doesn’t understand. How can we expect him to? Though we are on the same journey into parenthood, his path has been a totally different one.

  Like our good friend motherhood, fatherhood is a total shit fight. Men worldwide have to juggle getting their head around being a dad, dealing with the financial pressures of providing for his new family and navigating around the hormonal time bombs hidden on every corner. All whilst trying to be a hands-on dad as well as a loving and supportive husband who says all the right things at the right time because, after all, it is his wife who has done all the hard work! It’s exhausting and overwhelming – sound familiar?

  So let’s spare a thought and raise a glass of the strong stuff to all the knackered dads out there, up to their necks in long arse commutes, daddy duties and supporting their wives. You are doing one hell of a job, boys!

  WHY US MUMS NEED TO BE MORE DAD

  Dads for the majority of time get a bad rap. In fact, the poor bastards for most of their days are fighting a losing battle when it comes to knowing best about parenting. Us mums (rightly and wrongly, depending on what kind of day/sleepless night we have had) rule the roost when it comes to anything tiny human related.

  However, I am here to reveal that us mums are missing a bloody trick of the dad variety, and that the key to our mum-shaped lives being less stressful, less guilt-ridden and less knackering is in fact by being more Dad!

  Yes
, ladies, it’s time we channeled our alpha male, plugged into our testosterone channel and pulled on a pair of big dad pants (sexy!)

  Here’s how to inject more dad into your life:

  •Leave the house

  YES, just leave the house, no bag in tow, no unnecessary baby paraphernalia. No worries. No problem and no chance your morning outing has now turned into your afternoon one as you are so bogged down with baby crap that you can’t get out the bloody door! SERIOUSLY, watching my beloved leave the house with my tinier beloved on an outing was a total bloody epiphany. Here is how his check list went:

  Tiny human – check!

  Nappy – check!

  Wipes – check!

  Pre-made bottle – check!

  Beer money – check!

  Jacket with pockets to put it all in – check!

  Out the door in five seconds flat. OK, so that’s a lie, more like fifteen minutes after asking me where the nappies were, but STILL he knocked the shit out of my attempts at leaving the house with my baby bag that includes everything we would need if, heaven forbid, a natural disaster hit, aliens landed or zombies attacked, leaving us homeless and with all Tescos looted of nappies and wipes as far as the eye can see. Yes, ladies, we need to up our game when it comes to leaving the house with less crap and replace it with the most important thing (apart from baby) on the dad check list – beer money. Good God, why have I not thought of this before?

  •Don’t sweat the small stuff

  By the small stuff I mean your small tiny human. Apparently in this hip new world of getting your Dad on, no one is going to call Esther Rantzen if you don’t give your tiny human a bubble bath every night or even if you commit the sin of all sins and leave it a few nights. I’ve also experienced the revelation that it’s OK if you don’t have the monitor turned up to a volume level that lets you (and all hard-of-hearing folk within a three-mile radius of your house) monitor every slight movement your baby makes throughout the night. In fact, in this brave new world, where testosterone not boobs rule the roost, you don’t even need a bloody monitor because you can just leave the door of their nursery ajar instead – who knew? The list of crap we worry ourselves with as mums goes on forever, but in the world of Dad, not so much. Yes, I know – total bloody bliss!