My life as a Mummy

I wear bags under my eyes now

Not under my arm.

I wear food on my clothes

Not jewellery.

My perfume is eu de baby spew.

My iphone is full of children’s songs

Not top of the pops.

My brain battles the challenges of a toddler and the fatigue of a newborn

Not the adult tasks and conversations of a workforce.

I line up for hours to see children’s characters

Not rock stars.

I haven’t travelled the world

But I have travelled the playroom through a tunnel and disappeared into a land of dinosaurs and bedtime stories.

I don’t spend my weekends searching for that perfect glittery dress to wear to those fancy events

But rather, poking my head round bench tops and couch arms playing peekaboos with that cheeky grin that looks back at me.

I spend hours a day breastfeeding a tiny little bundle

Not traipsing around shops in heels.

I am forever changing poop.

I get weed on.

I get snotted on.

Sneezed on.

Spewed on.

Yelled at.

Slapped.

Headbutted.

Kissed.

And hugged.

And guess what?

ILOVE IT!!