Hey guys, iv not posted in an unreasonable amount of time, i dont really have an excuse other than lack of inspiration? Or just fukin time really! One month rolls into another and before you know it, “shit, its December, christmas is in a min, one of my best friends had a baby that iv not even seen in the flesh, and where the fuck did summer go?” Iv remembered iv actually got a blog time to time, usually on nights out when i bump into folk and they mention that they read it, “ahh yeh, really must post one” but truth be told im a boring bastard these days and have been working pretty hard on my relationship that lead me to start this in the first place.

Todays post, came to me in a blinding flash last night in bed, you know how they do, ya nackered all day from min you open ya eye balls, literally feel like youv been dug up and contemplate every excuse, scenario or medical emergency as to why you cant actually get out of bed. Then 11pm you lay your weary head and you think of 84,000 things you must do tomorrow as well as the 900 things you forgot to do today, sometimes mad world altering ideas come, then go but one thing thats almost haunted me from the moment i gave birth to my son is, am i good enough?

Honestly, if you are a mother i almost hope you get the same thing because if not i need fukin admitting. A handful of my mum pals say they do but thats not much to go by, like for like were all not wired up r8!

Seriously, am i good enough? Am i a good enough mother to my son? Ill lay and buzz trough my brain weather i gave him enough attention today or did i raise my voice high enough that tomorrow he’ll love me less or did i spend too much time cleaning. I work two days a week, every other weekend so it usually works out i do a straight ish run of four then have a week off, i do 14 hour days so when im at work i dont see rue for more than a couple of hours a day, usually these couple of hours entail me running round like a blue arsed fly cleaning, cooking, organising for bed time routine, morning, dinner, tea fukin weddings, barmitsfas. By the time i leave the house iv not spent any down time with rue. Not to mention that in my work uniform he really has the arse with me 😂 so a working mother (and only part time) feels somewhat guilty after a shift earning money for all of lifes necessitys and luxarys, guilty!

You say it yourself and you hear others say “youll never get this time back” then fast forward to my week off. we spend most our days (me and rue) food shopping, catching up on erands, tidying, walks, park, town etc etc but come three days in i start bothering myself that hes bored, wev not done enough stuff, i again feel guilty. Guilty for a day in the house, wot in the flying lizard are you ment to fill the days of a 2 year old with for solid weeks?? Sooo you cant win, i cant win. He prefers his daddy most days of the week, his nannys, grandpa, grandads, nance, Im lucky if i get an aup after a shift 😂 but people keep saying, they play up for thier mums, this iv found to be fact, that little ginner ball thinks its hillarious to ruffle my feathers, and my god is he good at it. The vast wide array of time hes an angel, so smart, so cute, so loving, follows instruction, excitable, and its only along side actual little bastards i realise iv got it lucky, but never the less he has days, ususally a cluster where my word does this kid press my buttons. Sorry, rephrase, he rips off the button. Will someone come forth with a realistic way to disapline a small ball of energy that crys so heartbrokenly if a voice is raised, so to avoid laying in bed resisting the urge to crawl in his cot and give a full night of i feel really guilty snuggs and kisses. Guilt, its here again, guilty? For telling your son that using the cat as a hammer against the wall is naughty! I cant get my head around this emotional rollercoaster of being a mum, its off the chain.

empowered are we as women that we pushed/got ripped out an actual human from our bodys, love this tiny tinky thing from the absolute instant we layed eyes on them more than anyone ever in the world EVER, it is our devine instinct to protect them with every fibre in our bodys and fucking worry yourself to near death from that moment fourth. Dont get me wrong theres no one else id rather waste my worry on than my son but my brain has not rested once since the 19th of november 2015 at 3.52am. My point of this post is that it dont mattter if you work or if you dont, if you take your kid to 18 play therapys a week or 3 swimming lessons if your a good mother, in your eyes whatever you do will never be good enough for your most perfect person. Keep on lasses, with the worrying, with the stress but most importantly the love.

Peace out. Ell deng xx