Sunday, March 27, 2005

I'm a mammy...not yet a woman!

First of all, dreadfully sorry to post lyrics vaguely resembling that of Britney Spears but after a wee run in with my parents and sister today I'm starting to wonder if anyone out there actually believes I'm a grown adult?

I'm 28 years old and have been married for four years. I have a mortgage, a car (admittedly not a full licence yet) and a bouncing baby boy. I work in a semi-respectable profession and I have degrees coming out of my ears...but sometimes in the company of those I love dearest I am still reduced to feeling like an errant three year old.

Today me and the wee man visited my parents. They live but a few short minutes away, over a muddy field I lovingly refer to as the Crick (See Calamity Jane if you dont get the reference). Having spent the morning in uber-mammy mode (the zombying effects of my anti-depressants seemingly starting to wear off thanks to me forgetting to take them for three days) cooking, cleaning and generally being fecking fabulous, I was feeling rather proud of myself in a "proper grown-up" stylie.

So on we go to my mums. There I play with Joseph on the floor and suddenly get the feeling that my beloved parents and siblings see me not as a mammy playing with her child, but as an oversized child herself playing with her wee friend.

I was told to watch out for the baby, don't let him near this, don't leave him there etc etc. Deep breathing and counting to 100 soon stopped working I can tell you! Things onyl got worse when my (younger!) sister told me to stop acting the eejit. (She being a mammy of three-years-experience).

I felt dejected and emotional and proving myself to be every bit the child they thought I was I put the wee man back in his Winnie The Pooh car and made a dramatic departure...pushing the car at lightening speed through the crick. (Those things are not made for off road travel, I can tell you).

We got home and I let the baby throw water round himself and play and scream at the top of his lungs, and then I switched the sensible mammy hat on again and cuddled him, bathed him, put him to bed and went downstairs to freeze the specially prepared bolognaise I cooked with own fair hands.

I'm sure it's hard for my parents to accept me as a parent me I know what a shock to the system it is to accept the parent status myself, but I am doing my very best and all the time trying to wean off the evil anti-depressants.

Maybe that is why I'm a little paranoid and sensitive??

(Oh and as an afterthought...have you ever noticed how easy it is to eat your child's entire Easter Egg without even tasting it???)

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