Today I sat by a stinging nettle shrub and just cried, while I stuffed my face with Toblerone.
It’s been 5 months of parenthood; 5 months of raising a person; 5 months of sleep deprivation; 5 months of firey emotions.
I knew motherhood would be tough, and looking back through these posts I can see how much I struggled through the early weeks. But there was a foolish part of me that hoped the struggling was mostly done. That even without him sleeping through I’d have built up a newfound armour of resilience, emboldening me through the rougher days.
Little did I know.
Side note: I think that bitty line above is my new mantra for parenthood…that and “ha ha ha, aaaaaa sh*tting f*#k!”
Where was I? The coherence has evidently bailed so I am just left here alone, baby finally asleep, with the gentle swaying stinging nettle threatening to burn our exposed feet, and I catch myself thinking that surely this will get easier?
I realise that irrespective of whether this gets easier, this is what it is. And in a way, there is something soothing in that realisation. Resigning myself to the struggle helps me breathe.
Resigning myself to struggle justifies eating all the Toblerone. Which I did to spite my husband, who brought it home for us last night. Spite ain’t natural to our relationship, but at least the bitter taste of deliberately being a jerk is washed down by nougat-y deliciousness.
Right now is where I’d normally resolve this rant with something poetic, calling myself and other stay at home parents to action, pepping me and them up, giving us that little slice of ‘bigger picture thinking’ that I feel I’m normally really good at.
But today I have no energy for the bigger picture. I can’t see beyond the nettle, beyond the sting. So I’ll just sit with that for now, observing how dense it seems, how frighteningly ever-lasting it appears, and maybe, just maybe, after noting every leaf, and every edge, I’ll eventually reach the end of the thicket and spy the calm, rippling river just beyond.