Today, as my son goes through another growth spurt, I find myself wondering somewhat selfishly about me.
I knew being a mum would be a full time job, which is why I feel like I don't really have the right to wonder: when will I get some time to be me again?
I suppose what I'm saying is that while I realised being a mum would be a full time occupation, I'm not sure I realised just how full time it would be. Reading this back, that sounds very stupid indeed.
But here's the thing: I feel like Darling Dad still gets time to do the things that made him him before he became a dad. He gets to do his writing. He's off to London to his book launch at the end of the month. He gets to go to work.
I wake up with Archie every day and get to be Mum. And it doesn't stop, ever. On a day without Darling Dad, this is to the exclusion of everything including personal hygiene & food.
And here's the terrifying thing. I'm lucky, because every now and again Darling Dad will take Archie off my hands for half an hour. My stomach drops when I think of single parents who have to do it alone, every day.
And yet, despite knowing that I am in fact stupidly lucky to have a fantastic husband and a relatively easy baby, I have to ask the question: when do I get to do something entirely me again? Go to the pictures, read a book without a baby on my boob, drink an actual hot cup of tea.
I suppose I'll just have to wait and see.