As each month of Osian’s life passes I look back on the previous one and think, ‘Ooh Christ, I was still off my head then’. Which is a bit scary because I think that this means I’ll never be sane again?
I’m guessing (hoping) I’ll never reach the levels of tear-spilling, eye-revolving insanity experienced in the first few weeks, although there is a part of me that kind of enjoyed the utter chaotic loss of any kind of control over my emotions….. e.g…..
Weeping because my mum sent me a soppy text; turning Holby City off because there was too much shouting (Holby City!); foolishly trying to watch a documentary about a labour ward and seriously freaking out (I don’t know what I was thinking, it’s a bit like watching a video of a car crash a few days after being involved in one and thinking it would be interesting….. )
But ‘going out’ has to be the epitome of new parent craziness. We were loopy, absolutely frigging LOOPY…. the whole experience of leaving the house with a baby in the early days is enough to persuade you to be a stay at home family, where no one has to leave the house… ever… again.
It took 3 hours the first time. 3 HOURS!! Then several bouts of hysteria resulting in tears in Lidl car park because Scott wanted to take Osian in there in the car seat (I now have no idea what was so traumatic about this concept but at the time it tipped me right over the edge).
I was comforted (and amused) to hear about friends’ similar experiences. My favourite being the mum who thought, on their first outing, her son (who was peacefully asleep) had stopped breathing and so shrieked, ‘STOP THE CAR!!!’ down her husband’s ear hole, leapt into the back, wrenched the child out of the car seat and promptly woke him up. Loud screams and new mummy (Oops.. ‘mummy’… what a hypocrite sorry!) left weeping in the back seat clutching the bewildered boy.
Another favourite was, ‘I thought that normal life could just continue, so we went shopping for garden furniture.’ Ha haaaaaaa!….. more crying in a car park.
This desperation for ‘normal life’ is what sends you doolally. There is no such thing available yet and the pursuit of it should be discouraged in order to avoid disappointment.
Perhaps there is something to be said for 30 days confinement like lots of women in China and Malaysia (and probably countless other countries) do?
I think you may have found me halfway up the chimney, or in the cat basket, or at the very least gibbering in the shed.
Going out gets quicker…. but never that quick I’m guessing?
don't call me mummy 