Once upon a time - not so very long ago, I was thinner, I had better clothes, and I like to think I was a little bit cool. Whatever I was, I was totally footloose and fancy free. I drank in bars(!). I went shopping at 9pm to "pick up something nice for dinner" (which we would eat at around 10pm). I lay in bed on a Sunday nursing a hangover all day. I read books all the way through. I went and had my nails done. I basically did whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.
And I shared this fantastic existence with my hubby. He is easy-going, low-maintenance and generally fun to be around. This life was easy. I did not know this life was easy, I in fact complained sometimes about how hard this life was.
Then, we had a baby. First, I was pregnant with a baby, and that was hard. And boring, and sober, and very fat-making. And I complained a lot about how hard that life was. And once we had our baby, we had a big shock. Because now everything was really truly difficult and tedious. We dealt with sleepless nights, the frustration of changing sheets five times in a 24 hour period. We had plans ruined, and all spontaneity taken away. We gave up on going to bars and eating out. We moved to the suburbs and bought more toys. And started wearing comfy shoes and making bread.
And then I had a second pregnancy. A twin pregnancy. And by the time you're 38 weeks pregnant with twins (both born at 7lbs) everything you've ever done before seems really easy.
And then we went from a little, easily contained family of three to a chaotic family of five overnight. And this is really, really hard. I don't really feel ready for how responsible I have to be, or prepared for how difficult it is.
And yet, I'm not sure I've ever been happier. I'm permanently covered in some kind of bodily fluid - or possibly all bodily fluids. I've given up covering up the bags under my eyes. I read the headlines of the newspapers in the shop and feel up to date with current affairs. I make Halloween costumes while breastfeeding, put toddlers shoes on while sitting on the loo, I do my pelvic floor exercises whilst making dinner, cradling a baby in one hand and singing "wheels on the bus" to a toddler and chatting to my Mum on speakerphone. This life is non-stop. It is challenging, and tiring, and monotonous. This life is filled with a million little things every day that make my heart melt. And I love it.
That said, if you could give me 48 hours to eat a meal in a restaurant, have a full night's sleep, read the Sunday papers and have a long, hot hair bath, I'd bite your ruddy hand off.
