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Why Being a Parent Is Like Being Really, Really Old

1
Fortyish
 

It’s my birthday this month. The first in my forties. The reality of this is still not quite sinking in, mainly because my brain still thinks I’m 27 and doesn’t understand why I can no longer look pull off a good mini-skirt or stay up past 11pm.

It’s a weirdly contradictory time for me. On the one hand I still feel, cerebrally speaking, quite young. My sense of humour is positively puerile. I still snigger at farts and actively enjoy swearing at things. I’m basically a 14 year old boy but without the questionable search

SelfishMother.com
2
history.

On the other hand though, it seems increasingly hard to ignore the fact that I am starting to feel exponentially older. I frequently find myself saying things like ”Ooh it’s a bit nippy isn’t it? The weather’s on the turn.” or ”I’ll just pop the kettle on” without a hint of irony. Sometimes I feel I am dangerously close to slipping on some Mum-jeans and into ”popping down to M&S because they’ve got a sale on” territory.

Largely though, my sense of ageing is probably down to being a parent to three fairly boisterous children

SelfishMother.com
3
and not getting much sleep.

Life has become more about being practical, and saving time. We are all simultaneously softened and battered by the trappings of parenthood aren’t we? In fact I’d go so far as to say that in a lot of ways, for me, being a mum is more and more like being an old lady. The more I think about it, the more similarities I see.

Hold on to your pearls: Here are some examples…

 
Why Being A Parent Is Like Being Really Really Old
 
Forgetting Stuff
 

I am so unbelievably forgetful these days – I

SelfishMother.com
4
wander into the rooms only to forget why I’m there on an almost daily basis.

I have total blanks midway through driving to places and can’t for the life of me remember which way to turn at the junction.

I drink more tea cold than I do hot (not just because of the kids either, I literally put it down and forget it’s existence immediately).

It’s basically like having early stage dementia.

 
Not Being ’Down With The Kids’
 

Since having children I have been anything but ’on fleek’. I have no idea what’s going on with new

SelfishMother.com
5
music, what’s on trend, or who half of the new celebs are.
This leads to an ongoing dialogue in front of the telly between Pete and I which generally includes the phrases ”Who’s that guy?” ”God that sounds dreadful.” and ”Blimey that top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, she should probably put a cardy on”. Which brings me to…
 

Choosing What To Wear Solely On The Basis Of Comfort
 

I don’t think I’ve worn a pair of heels in at least 5 years. But I’m not even thinking of wearing going-out gear (frankly, if I have

SelfishMother.com
6
to go out anywhere where yoga pants aren’t acceptable apparel I tend to break out in a cold sweat anyway).

No. I’m talking about a whole new level in comfort dressing. The other day I was looking online for trousers. I can’t be arsed wearing jeans any more because they’re just too rigid. My search was based on elasticated waistbands. Literally. That was my only prerequisite.

This afternoon I set out on the school run wearing old jogging bottoms tucked into biker boots. Style has become an entirely secondary concept in my life, and I don’t even

SelfishMother.com
7
feel bad about it, because I’m really really comfy.

 
Other Clothing-Related Hiccups
 

I seem infinitely more prone to accidentally tucking my skirt into my knickers, getting loo-roll stuck to the sole of my shoe, and finding random food stains on my clothes when I get back from being out. I blame the kids. Not only for distracting me, but also not bothering to tell me.

But then again, considering my 5 year old still insists on wearing his pants backwards with alarming frequency because he can’t be bothered to switch them around

SelfishMother.com
8
the right way, I should hardly be surprised, should I?!

 

I’m Tired All The Time
 
And I’ve been tired for so long I have simply come to accept it. This is my life now. Good job I’ve got those comfy trousers to a snooze on the couch in.

 
I Need To Wee A Lot
 

At first you think it’s because you’re pregnant but no, this is it.

This is forever.

Motherhood has rendered my bladder forever diminished – a mere shadow of it’s former glory.

 
I Don’t ’Get’ The Games My Kids Play
 

Which is

SelfishMother.com
9
weird because I consider myself fairly tech savvy as a rule, but when my 5 year old needs me to help him change his character’s outfit on Roblox? Sorry love, haven’t got the foggiest. In fact I have literally no idea what you actually do in that newfangled game. None whatsoever.

 
Smiling At Other People’s Babies
 

Yep, whether passing their buggies, at supermarket checkouts or sitting opposite them on public transport, I find myself smiling indulgently at anyone’s small offspring in the manner of a twinkly eyed Great Aunt.

I’m

SelfishMother.com
10
*this* close to wapping out the Werthers Originals…

 
Dysphasia
 

Or in other words, losing the capacity to remember specific words or names for things. Cue the need to fill in the blanks with ’whatsisname’ or ’thingumyjig’. See my point?

 

Getting Tearful and Nostalgic At The Drop Of A Hat
 
Whether it’s sobbing at a trashy movie, or discovering one of my kid’s too-tiny baby shoes during a clear-out (usually when they are in bed asleep, and not making me mouth-shout ”Fuck Off” into the larder because they

SelfishMother.com
11
don’t like whatever I’ve just spent 45 minutes cooking for dinner) the tears are indiscriminate. Anything can set me off. I cry ALL THE TIME.
I used to wonder why old people used to get all wistful and quivery-voiced when they talked about the good old days, but now I get it – the passage of time is alarmingly fleeting once kids are in the picture.
And as a result I’m like a misty-eyed octogenarian on crack.
 

Conclusive Proof
 

That’s nine cohesive arguments for motherhood turning me into an OAP. In fact, I could have probably

SelfishMother.com
12
added a couple more in there for good measure but frankly it’s getting late – I’ve got soaps to catch up on, and that sherry isn’t drinking itself.

Happy retirement Motherlovers!

xx

~~~

Did this post tickle you? Then have a gander at some of my other blog posts too. (Especially this one, because if you’re sick to death of doing all the Mum stuff around the house for f*ck all thanks it might just cheer you up a bit.)

You’ll also (probably) love The Mum Conundrum facebook group. I post a load of funny / interesting / useful stuff

SelfishMother.com
13
by me or from other far-flung corners of the Internet each day. You can also show me love on The Mum Conundrum Facebook Page if you fancy… a like and a follow always goes down a treat, you know.

I’m also on twitter (a lot) and Instagram (a bit) too… Ooh and I’m newly loving the whole Pinterest thing, so do pop along and give me a follow there, I’ve got all sorts of intriguing pins for you to take a peek at.

You can also email me if you’ve got an idea for something you’d like me to write about or review, or if you’d like to work

SelfishMother.com
14
with me. Feel free to hit me up here.
SelfishMother.com

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- 26 Nov 18

Fortyish

 

It’s my birthday this month. The first in my forties. The reality of this is still not quite sinking in, mainly because my brain still thinks I’m 27 and doesn’t understand why I can no longer look pull off a good mini-skirt or stay up past 11pm.

It’s a weirdly contradictory time for me. On the one hand I still feel, cerebrally speaking, quite young. My sense of humour is positively puerile. I still snigger at farts and actively enjoy swearing at things. I’m basically a 14 year old boy but without the questionable search history.

On the other hand though, it seems increasingly hard to ignore the fact that I am starting to feel exponentially older. I frequently find myself saying things like “Ooh it’s a bit nippy isn’t it? The weather’s on the turn.” or “I‘ll just pop the kettle on” without a hint of irony. Sometimes I feel I am dangerously close to slipping on some Mum-jeans and into “popping down to M&S because they’ve got a sale on” territory.

Largely though, my sense of ageing is probably down to being a parent to three fairly boisterous children and not getting much sleep.

Life has become more about being practical, and saving time. We are all simultaneously softened and battered by the trappings of parenthood aren’t we? In fact I’d go so far as to say that in a lot of ways, for me, being a mum is more and more like being an old lady. The more I think about it, the more similarities I see.

Hold on to your pearls: Here are some examples…

 

Why Being A Parent Is Like Being Really Really Old

 

Forgetting Stuff

 

I am so unbelievably forgetful these days – I wander into the rooms only to forget why I’m there on an almost daily basis.

I have total blanks midway through driving to places and can’t for the life of me remember which way to turn at the junction.

I drink more tea cold than I do hot (not just because of the kids either, I literally put it down and forget it’s existence immediately).

It’s basically like having early stage dementia.

 

Not Being ‘Down With The Kids

 

Since having children I have been anything but ‘on fleek’. I have no idea what’s going on with new music, what’s on trend, or who half of the new celebs are.

This leads to an ongoing dialogue in front of the telly between Pete and I which generally includes the phrases “Who’s that guy?” “God that sounds dreadful.” and “Blimey that top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, she should probably put a cardy on“. Which brings me to…

 

Choosing What To Wear Solely On The Basis Of Comfort

 

I don’t think I’ve worn a pair of heels in at least 5 years. But I’m not even thinking of wearing going-out gear (frankly, if I have to go out anywhere where yoga pants aren’t acceptable apparel I tend to break out in a cold sweat anyway).

No. I’m talking about a whole new level in comfort dressing. The other day I was looking online for trousers. I can’t be arsed wearing jeans any more because they’re just too rigid. My search was based on elasticated waistbands. Literally. That was my only prerequisite.

This afternoon I set out on the school run wearing old jogging bottoms tucked into biker boots. Style has become an entirely secondary concept in my life, and I don’t even feel bad about it, because I’m really really comfy.

 

Other Clothing-Related Hiccups

 

I seem infinitely more prone to accidentally tucking my skirt into my knickers, getting loo-roll stuck to the sole of my shoe, and finding random food stains on my clothes when I get back from being out. I blame the kids. Not only for distracting me, but also not bothering to tell me.

But then again, considering my 5 year old still insists on wearing his pants backwards with alarming frequency because he can’t be bothered to switch them around the right way, I should hardly be surprised, should I?!

 

I’m Tired All The Time

 

And I’ve been tired for so long I have simply come to accept it. This is my life now. Good job I’ve got those comfy trousers to a snooze on the couch in.

 

I Need To Wee A Lot

 

At first you think it’s because you’re pregnant but no, this is it.

This is forever.

Motherhood has rendered my bladder forever diminished – a mere shadow of it’s former glory.

 

I Don’t ‘Get’ The Games My Kids Play

 

Which is weird because I consider myself fairly tech savvy as a rule, but when my 5 year old needs me to help him change his character’s outfit on Roblox? Sorry love, haven’t got the foggiest. In fact I have literally no idea what you actually do in that newfangled game. None whatsoever.

 

Smiling At Other People’s Babies

 

Yep, whether passing their buggies, at supermarket checkouts or sitting opposite them on public transport, I find myself smiling indulgently at anyone’s small offspring in the manner of a twinkly eyed Great Aunt.

I’m *this* close to wapping out the Werthers Originals…

 

Dysphasia

 

Or in other words, losing the capacity to remember specific words or names for things. Cue the need to fill in the blanks with ‘whatsisname‘ or ‘thingumyjig‘. See my point?

 

Getting Tearful and Nostalgic At The Drop Of A Hat

 

Whether it’s sobbing at a trashy movie, or discovering one of my kid’s too-tiny baby shoes during a clear-out (usually when they are in bed asleep, and not making me mouth-shout “Fuck Off” into the larder because they don’t like whatever I’ve just spent 45 minutes cooking for dinner) the tears are indiscriminate. Anything can set me off. I cry ALL THE TIME.

I used to wonder why old people used to get all wistful and quivery-voiced when they talked about the good old days, but now I get it – the passage of time is alarmingly fleeting once kids are in the picture.

And as a result I’m like a misty-eyed octogenarian on crack.

 

Conclusive Proof

 

That’s nine cohesive arguments for motherhood turning me into an OAP. In fact, I could have probably added a couple more in there for good measure but frankly it’s getting late – I’ve got soaps to catch up on, and that sherry isn’t drinking itself.

Happy retirement Motherlovers!

xx

~~~

Did this post tickle you? Then have a gander at some of my other blog posts too. (Especially this one, because if you’re sick to death of doing all the Mum stuff around the house for f*ck all thanks it might just cheer you up a bit.)

You’ll also (probably) love The Mum Conundrum facebook group. I post a load of funny / interesting / useful stuff by me or from other far-flung corners of the Internet each day. You can also show me love on The Mum Conundrum Facebook Page if you fancy… a like and a follow always goes down a treat, you know.

I’m also on twitter (a lot) and Instagram (a bit) too… Ooh and I’m newly loving the whole Pinterest thing, so do pop along and give me a follow there, I’ve got all sorts of intriguing pins for you to take a peek at.

You can also email me if you’ve got an idea for something you’d like me to write about or review, or if you’d like to work with me. Feel free to hit me up here.

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