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A day out with Toddlers is sometimes more exhausting than staying in.

So, you wake up in the morning feeling optimistic that even though it’s bucketing it down outside, Britain has an array of soft play areas to save the day.

You’ve been up since the birds were tweeting, you’ve been feeding, changing countless panties as toilet training is ongoing! Washing up, ironing uniform for the older ones and baby wiping sticky fingers for what feels like hours after constantly offering verious breakfasts to your toddler despretly trying to meet the 5 a day guidelines. It’s no suprise us mums are tierd it’s only 8.15am and we are mentally stretched already.

Your play group friend Tx’s and is happy to go to the local soft play. Thank god an escapism from these four walls, you reply “see you at 9.15am” and pack up half the house into your baby bag, throw your hair into a ‘mum bun’, see the older children off to school and head out into the pouring rain.

Trying to get your Toddler into the car is the first hurdle, I warn you Toddlers are strong, really strong. If they dont want to sit in that seat you can easily add 15 minutes on to your journey. You’ll work up quite a fluster trying to coax, fasten and clip them in. 3 types off bribery an electronic tablet and rather sweatty armpints and your finally on the road.

Arriving at soft play a shaggy, sweatty, already knackered mum you arrive at reception and set up a tab. I used to have a tab for a night out but now it’s for soft play- what I’d give for a Gin & Lemomade with a slice of lemon and Lime right now I think to myself.  Not sure it would be socially, culturally accepted but the idea is nice!

A cappachino and jug of juice later you see your friend, relieved to see another mum that can totally feel your need for support you both grab the nearest table free.

Five minutes in the toddlers are more interested in the areay of sweets including lolly pops on the reception desk. Trying to avoid and distract is pointless- they always win. Your to tierd to reason with them but more angry at the fact lollys, yes lollys a ridiculously choking hazard are advertised in a soft play area. There is huge slides, ball pools and the latest toys and all your toddler wants is a stupid fucking chubba chub lolly! 15 minutes of

“But I want a lolly pop, please, please mummy”

Throwing things, anything in site they dont care toddlers it’s all getting throw! Stamping feet and then there’s the high pitched shriek. I give in I just want a coffee in peace, you’ll glance at your friend wondering if there judging you deep down. I say

“you can have chocolate buttons instead”.

Looking over at the time it’s 9.45am you feel more guilt that your feeding your most precious creation utter Junk at such an early time. But fuck it, us mum’s are all just trying to make it through the day.

Cappuccino arrives, we sit and start to verbally vomit our stresses, worries and dhillemas of how hard it is being sleep deprived,  trying to hold a marriage together if you have one and keep up at the gym.

Not even 3 minutes into our chat I hear crying- off course it’s my child. Shit, where are they? Everyone is starring, i can hear him but can’t see him. Yep that’s me took my eyes off my child for 3 minutes scrambling through soft toys and ball pools to get my child down from a slide that he’s scared off.

Cradiling him back to the table, lots of kisses and a splah of mummy milk, again everyone is watching. I feel the glares in my side clearly knowone has ever seen a toddler breastfeed before! He’s ok now and toddles back off to play.

Cappuccino now cold- story of my life cold tea and coffee. We carry on our conversation around juggling work, nursery fees crippling us and how not pissing ourselves in last weeks Zuma Class was our all time high.

The Toddlers return, there hungry! Of course their hungry its 10.15am but we have been up since 5am so we’ve practically done half a day. They request omeltte and beans and a jacket potato. So we add our lunch orders to our Tab and try to continue our chat.

Interrupted not even 2 minutes in our toddlers are upset.  There mortified and it’s worrying. It’s over 1 toy!! Why everywhere we go do kids insist on all playing with the same toy? There’s at least 30 toys in this place and yet both of them want the same one!!!!! Both of us mummies try to reason and explain about sharing to calm the fractious little people and stop the shrieks that attract yet more glares.

Some of the glares are sympathetic I see in their eyes from accross the room they feel our parenting pain. We are all just mum’s trying to survive the day.

Once they calm down and agree to share the toy, dinner arrives! Starving ourselves we look foward to eating and not having to clean the mess. Chopping up the toddler portions my boy bursts in to tears. He does not want his omeltte now he wants my friends little boys Jacket potato. Give me strength, why can’t we go anywhere without 5,000 tantrums.  I just want to eat my meal hot and in peace is it so much to ask when the role of a mum is a 24/7 thing.

My friend offers to share her son’s portion but sharing isn’t fun according to 3 year olds, we learnt this 10 minutes ago!

Another 5 minutes of dividing, chopping, blowing hot food and reasoning over the Jacket Potato they are both happy.

Rolling our eyes at eachother we devour our now luke warm lunch because raising toddlers makes you ravenous.  You never know when you’ll get another chance to eat that day. Inbetween each mouthful that you bearly chew you are constantly saying

“Sit still, please stop wiggling on that chair”

And “can you eat nicely please, don’t throw that, use your fork please”.

Then the cup off juice goes flying, you drop your knife and their toddler meal is a fucking swamp.

Laughing it off to not upset their tiny, fragile emotions you rush to get napkins  (you packed half the house and still forgot baby wipes).

I’m walking back from the reception desk thinking ‘ why did i even bother to leave the house this morning?’

Mopping up the mess, you loose your appetite for your now cold lunch as you feel bitter sweet about paying for a half eaten cold lunch, a swamping toddler dinner, a cold cappachino and packet of frigging chocolate buttons.

The toddlers skip off for one last play and you and your friend flop back in your chairs and natter about the mundane cleaning jobs you have planned for the afternoon. You both take some pics of your boys playing and upload them to social media to keep up with the trend of ‘days out being a mum holding it together’.

11.30am it’s time to head home for a toddler nap. The bribery begins again as he dosnt want to go home! Kicking legs, refusing to put shoes on and throwing coats. You resort to the fireman lift towards reception.

The bill is £18 already and his tantrum stops when he sees the Paw Patrol bubbles on the front desk. Another crappy toy we dont need but I know I’ll buy.

£20 for 2 hours off stress and I’m leaving more exhausted than when i entered. But anything is better than staying in all day on my own.

Two ratty toddlers go in their car seats. We hug eachother good bye and say “same time next week, I will tx you hun” and we go our different ways.

Driving home you look in your rear view mirror and your sleeping toddler looks like an Angel  So pure, beautiful and peaceful. You sigh and feel warm this morning has been tough, but it’s worth it for him.

 

Written on the 9th June 2018 by Francesca Shaw

Inspired by 13 years of being a mum to four children and probably 13,000 soft play days out.

I hear this all the time ” Yummy Mummy”. But I ponder over who created this not so realistic ideology of a mother, mum, mummy, parent or whatever you like to refer to the creator of human life.

I’ve been a mum myself for nearly 13 years now as my eldest child is 12. I took my role of mum from the day I found out I was expecting back in spring 2005.

One thing that struck me when I was called a “yummy mummy” for the first time, was that I have never felt “yummy”.

I have felt like I needed spoon feeding myself because of sheer exhaustion but never like I wanted to be eaten!

In a way I have been eaten though or that’s what breastfeeding can feel like sometimes. Despite volunteering as a peer supporter for many years I still experienced aversions myself.  I have still felt overwhelmed with been bitten, chomped on and drained of life – this is definitely not ‘yummy’.

I’ve gone through countless mother and baby classes and been often referred to as a “yummy mummy”. I’ve seen baby bags, T-shirts, mugs and all sorts of merchandise on the subject.  But I assure you there’s nothing Yummy about being a mummy.

Stinking of caffeine to stay awake, having dribble and sick in your hair that no-one dares tell you about until you notice it at tea time as you catch a glance of your reflection in the hallway mirror. The phrase ‘Yummy Mummy’ is most certainly not the sweating that comes after childbirth, the ransid smell of blood and the post labour cramps as that tired uterus spends months returning to her once tiny size.

Never in my years of sleepless nights have I said to my fellow baby mother friends at play group that I feel ‘yummy’. The word Yummy makes me think of fine cakes, cream tea, a beautiful salad with my favourite cocktail in a spa with peace and fucking quiet! Not sleepless lonely hours in the midst of the night struggling to keep the eyelids open. Silently crying to myself as I feel overwhelmed with love for this tiny fragile human I birthed. Yet I feel so scared and alone, so erratic.

This word ‘Yummy Mummy’ has made me loose my identity.

Not only is this phrase suffocating me but I’m now “someones mum” at play group. I hear mums reffering to other parents as “You know Elliot’s mum”.

So now I’m someone’s mum. These people don’t even know my name anymore. No-one even asked me or any of these other identity lost women if we like this “yummy mummy’ or ‘someones mum’ slogan. So why do I feel an intense anxiety to conform to societies expectation? The pressure daily to dress, look and portray to be ‘yummy’ sends me dizzy.

I can’t keep up amongst the food shopping, cleaning, homework, cooking, dog walking, parents evening, argument solving, tantrum soothing, bathing, teeth brushing, sock sorting, lego standing, story telling, night feeding bedlam.

I’m a mother that’s lost her identity to a slogan that isnt true.

Am I a fake?

Am I lost?

Why is being me not beautiful enough?

Why do they label me this “Yummy Mummy?”

I’d just like to be referred to by my name. I’d like to be remembered for me, for who I used to be before I became “someone’s mum” Surley there must be more mothers out there that feel angered by this “Yummy Mummy” ideology and want to shout out loud this mum life is “NOT SO YUMMY MUMMY”.

 

Written 4th June 2018 inspired by Faith, Jacob, Elliot and Tobias and Society. By Francesca Shaw.

 

 

It’s another Sunday spring morning and it’s just gone 6.48am. I’m hanging washing in the garden and thinking of how i love the rising sun on my back but how much i long for a sleep in. To just make it past 7am would be ever so revitalizing.  The rest of the house sleeps but Tobias my youngest gets me all to himself when it’s this early on a weekend.

Toddlers are extraordinary mini people. Not only are they continuously learning but their intresting to. They fascinate me because they are proud of everything they do!

Just as i finish hanging my washing  i hear,

“Mum, mum, mum, come and wipe my bum, I’ve had a poo!”

The intensity and illatedness that he shouts this with makes me chuckle as i walk to the bathroom.  On entering he bunny hops with his bottom in the air ready for my motherly toilet tissue wipe.

“Look at my big poo mummy! Do you like it?”

Laughing again i reply “off course i do, your very clever going to the toilet on your own”. With that gentle reassurence he flushes the toilet and skips off to play.

Heading back to the kitchen to tackle my mound of jobs my heart is warmed by his innocence.  That’s all they need these little humans, reassurence, time and love.

For all the moments like this morning when he tipped a full tub of chocolate milkshske out before I’d even had a cup of tea. For all the sleepless nights, lack of sleep ins, tantrums over Lego being the wrong colour or watching finding nemo, bing, chuffing Mr Tumble or slime videos on repeat for a week. And battling relentlessly every day to make brushing teeth fun their vulnerability and charisma makes it all worth it.

The questions are tireless, these small people can ask more questions than my brain can process in a day. There inquisitive thoughts are comical, literal, peculiar and often as parents we struggle to even fathom how to ‘correctly’ answer these tiny people that are absorbing everything around them.

One thing as a mother i am sure on, is regardless of how exhausted i am,  i am proud that i am the one that gets to answer all of these big, little questions.

For whilst he is only three he only looks up to me. Before society starts to imprint other answers and try’s to stir this thought patterns, it is i, who he believes has the answer to all off his learning. This morning he taught me that this is just another reason that makes being a mother extra precious.

 

Written for Tobias, Inspired by Tobias on a beautiful June morning.

 

By Francesca Shaw

 

 

 

It’s just gone 9pm and I’ve poured the wine. On Insta three hours ago I showed the world I was fine! Strong, independent mother that’s proud of her eldest son- managing to hold it together.  Yet behind that selfie is a women rather broken, trampled and beaten by 2 humans that society calls hard working men.

Neither biological or step-father attended parents evening tonight. Neither asked how it went.  I sit here trying to see what I write as the salt drops fall, I find myself asking how the fuck do I climb this emotional brick wall.

Two dads, two is surley better than one you must all think. But as I sit here exhsusted after putting four off their offspring to bed. My heart aches, wondering why neither cares enough to ask “what did his teachers say? Is he achieving? How did it go?”

You were ok to lay me down with intimacy and sow his seed of life. Yet as soon as life gets serious- lets disrespect she’s only a wife. I’m immune to the pain couldn’t even care less that you’ve made me feel insane. It’s the shame I carry, the guilt I heed that my beautiful baby boy has no male role model or father that truly cares.

Instead we are just little figurines that you play with like a toy. Picked up and put down when your board of playing your games.  I’m so sad, so sad for my 1st born baby boy.

Written on the 24th April 2018 After parents evening in Leeds.

 

Written for all the MUMS AKA SUPERHUMANS!! The 6 week summer holiday is upon us in a matter of weeks. This was written last year on the last day of term and I thought it would make a good 1st blog post.

What one individual can do by 9am is somewhat that of a superhuman being. The rushing, cleaning, bottom wiping, argument de-fusing, kitchen side wiping, pet sorting, P.E kit finding, selfie taking 😂, dishwasher loading, nappy changing, toilet training, pack lunch making- is a sheer skill. All this is completed before chasing  un brushed dirty teeth monsters-whilst watching the clock hoping knowone thinks bad of her because shes already 3 minutes behind target for that dredded school bell. And breath, Exhausted yet? That’s just the beginning!

Now she’s to get ready! Wanting to look presentable- the superhuman being has to let go off all inhibitions and parenting tactics and let them brawl, shout, squirt cereal and milk all over the kitchen – whilst she has 9 minutes to get ready. Frantically rubbing in the foundation she hopes that knowone at the school gates will notice the sleep deprived pupils and stress induced dark circles.
Finding clothes is never dull- ones wardrobe since birth has somewhat changed! Nothing fits, sexy 🤣 whats that? Fashion is now a new language to learn. Designer??? 🤔 mmm “yeah like how does ‘dribble n shit’ sound? That could be a really nice brand! I wear it most days” she mutters.

Ignoring the self confidence demons and feelings of inadequacy she throws on her favourite ‘dribble n shit’ outfit and then realises the time!!

Finding the keys is the next hurdle! One of the pack has hidden/moved or lost them. So in a fit of fury her superhuman roar is released as tensions have been rising since 6am.

Unable to find the keys and its inevitable she will be late, she dials the phone frantically to her superhuman partner. In desperation she asks “do you know where they are?” Praying one has lazer eye vision skills she awaits the response….

After an awkward pause one says “Sadly not, where did you last see them?”. She cracks- slumping on to the bottom step, head in her hands whispering “who the fuck would have kids?” Wondering what her life has come to and how she ever ended up crying over car keys, chasing monsters and wearing ‘dribble n shit’.

Then as if by magic the slobbering and wheeping stops, she gives her head a shake, 3 deep breaths and thinks
“Sort yourself out woman your a MUM!! MUMS NEVER QUIT!!!”

Miraculously the 3rd child finds the keys, they hurl themselves into the family wagon and once strapped in she rockets them all to school. When she’s waved them off she’s left in sheer bewilderment that its only 9:03 and shes smashed her fitbit steps for the day already!

She has a 5 minute daydream before realising shes to continue until atleast 10pm. There’s errands to run, another school run at 3pm, that washing on the bed to put away and a society to please. Weather she works or not her desire is to just be a good MUM and nurture those forever hungry monsters that just nearly destroyed her sanity.

If you see this superhuman being around, if your friends with one, if you walk past her- tell her she’s AMAZING! Because without these superhumans called MUMS Im sure the planet would be a very different place.

Stay sain mums 6 weeks is a long time 😉
Written by,
Francesca Shaw
A morning of madness on the last day of term. 25-07-17