So we're out of the leap, officially: 56 days until the next one, surely this heralds great things? A time of snowdrops and fresh, bright, frosty days, relaxed dog walks in the park, baby safely tucked up in the sling, coffee with friends? An idyllic late Winter and birthday season. Well, that's not this week, that's for sure! My favourite time of the day is Bb's first nap (don't judge me), as we stroll around the streets and head into town. Once asleep, I grab my headphones and enjoy a podcast or some metal music, which just gives me that little piece of myself back in the mists of parenting. But this morning, oh no! This morning I changed my coat, didn't I? Yes, I did. A good, hardy, dog-walking-in-the-rain coat, slightly waterproof, with a hood, perfect for one of the idylls above. Not perfect once we hit that pinnacle moment of mum-calm, mid-morning, and I'm thinking, "hey, that podcast I found yesterday was pretty funny, I'll crack on with the rest of the episode." And then the dreaded realisation, as I feel inside my pockets, and the penny drops about the whole coat thing. And my time away from everyone and everything vanishes, like my patience with the dog, this morning. Earlier, the dog was winging (mostly because he's had rubbish walks the last couple of days and needs to burn off steam- sheep dogs are not ideal for first time mum's of young babies), and Bb was screeching the loudest noise possible but my petrol gauge had hit the red. Just stopping for petrol, why should that be difficult? Such a simple task, and absolutely not one which should leave you in tears as you consider leaving the dog at the park and making a run for it, hoping he'll end up in the kind hands of a sheep farmer...
Alighting the forecourt: the first pump was diesel only, the next pump was pay cashier only. Neither of which served the purpose I needed. So I pegged it to the park on vapours, hoping the baby would calm down enough on the drive home to allow the petrol fill up. During the walk I had a phone call, and whilst I tried my best not to, I bust into tears exclaiming my inability to cope with the dog. Luckily the call was from my mum and she's soo used to my emotions. The next thing I know, the dog is having a holiday at nanny and grandad's house this weekend. I cannot explain the feeling of relief this simple offering of practical kindness brings. It's huge. And never goes un-appreciated. But how ridicuolous is this? What if they weren't so supportive? What if they weren't close by? I've read a lot of social media posts lately, where the parents of parents, and other family support networks are 2 hours plus away by car, I can't even begin to imagine how stressful this is. If this was my personal set up I'd have buckled months ago and who knows where I'd be now... Support is so important at this time in life, even a simple, "what a smiley baby," comment from a friendly stranger really helps the day go by.
Next on the agenda for today is a "play date," with mum friends, and I'm really hoping I've got enough politeness in the Mind Bank to not let all my failings explode out, all over the children's centre. Think, Jack-in-the-box meets Plato (or some other historically philosophical dude: Joni Mitchell also springs to mind, either way, those ponderous of the meaning of life, the universe, and... parenting?) I'm not sure on Plato's parental status all that time ago, but I know a Mitchell wrote a song about a baby she had. Nb: When I got cake (2x pieces), in a cafe, to sustain some emotion other than tearful wreck, REM was playing, 'It's the end of the world as we know it,' and the irony was not lost on me. #thirdworldproblems #mentalhealth #parentalhealth #supportnetworks #parentlife #instalife #instaparent #instamum #losingtheplot #stillnowheretolive #homelessinaweek #Nopetsallowed #bordercollie #hopehedoesn'treadthis #babiesandpets #jonimitchell #littlegreen #Plato #REM #It'stheendoftheworldasweknowit