1) Randomly bumping into somebody you know will occur when, and only when, you look like shit. You will also be accompanied by snotty and unruly children (‘yes these are mine’). Sod’s Law states that if said someone is an ex-boyfriend (or girlfriend) you will look exceptionally shit. Like a dog’s dinner that has been rained on.
This law is particularly painful if you knew that person in your life pre-kids, because it’s possible they will hold a memory of your tamed eyebrows and/or your legs without leggings. The one day you do make an effort (wrestle into skinny jeans/slap on some BB cream and lip balm) there will be no such old flame encounter.
2) The zip on the Gro bag/all-in-one snowsuit/pram hood will break or get stuck at a time when your baby's crying has gone off the scale (or, as we like to say in our house, when he has “gone savage”). You will be left trying to fix a broken zip underneath the chin of a crying and kicking beetroot-red baby. Upon experiencing such zip-breakage, I challenge you not to shout ‘you good for nothing piece of shit, I’m complaining to John Lewis!’ (You will never do this).
3) Your children will only 'sleep in' on the days you need them to get up. Saturday morning with nowhere to be? Oh they're awake at 4am, jumping on the bed shouting ‘BUNDLE!’ and telling you they have wet pyjama bottoms. And can they watch Ben 10? But when the Thursday 6am alarm goes off for the child-minder run...they are in a sleep coma. Yep.
4) The same sleeping misfortune happens in the car. You can be driving for an hour hoping your child will drop off so you can listen to the radio, but he will maintain a constant whinge until you are five minutes from home. You will then find yourself sitting in the car outside your house, drinking in the silence whilst at the same time thinking this is another sodding NOWO (Nap Of Wasted Opportunity). If they just napped in their goddam beds you could put some washing out. And watch Judge Rinder.
|"A nap in my cot, you say? Oh that's funny!"|
5) The moment you are trying to leave the house, everybody (baby/toddler/husband) needs the toilet. You will spend a ridiculous amount of your life muttering ‘for fuck’s sake' whilst angrily getting another nappy out. For this reason, you must allow a forty minute margin of error to any target departure time. Of course when you finally are all out the door (and strapped into car seats, or the pram) the baby will squeeze another one out. Or be sick. By this point you will deny all knowledge and drive to Sainsbury’s.
6) The family lurgy will strike when you have a night out planned. Your ONE NIGHT of freedom to drink gin and dance embarrassingly to songs you don't know (whatever happened to N*Sync?) will die a germy death before you even get to dig out a Going Out Top. Probably for the best as that Topshop number you wore in 2009 is unlikely to be a great fit over your yellowing maternity bra (no you are no longer breastfeeding, but underwire and padding just seems so fancy these days).
7) Friends will get have Hen Dos, 30th birthday parties and general organised fun activities when you are eight months pregnant. If you stay at home, you will sit on the sofa drinking raspberry leaf tea and watching The Voice, feeling depressed. If you go, you will be fat, sweaty and sober (and will have paid for the privilege). There is no winner here.
8) If you do brave a G&T (or four), an otherwise sleep-trained baby will be up half the night. Eight month sleep regression? Meh. How about the ‘Oh look, Mummy and Daddy are trying to enjoy a normal adult evening the stupid bastards’ sleep regression. They just know.
The Unmumsy Mum