Pending the consumption of too much food (again) and a few sociable glasses of gin, that’s another year done. 2014 – you were a pretty good vintage, you little tinker.
2014 was the year I started this blog. Chatterbox Mummy has been up and running for 6 months now, and what started as a bit of fun and a way to keep my hand in at writing has become something quite successful. Not because I have got loads of freebies (although that free pot of Ambrosia custard was a bonus), not because it has made me millions, but because I’ve made people smile and I’ve made some rather lovely friends. Sometimes I (apparently) made them cry, but in a good way. And on a few occasions I am proud to say it’s made people realise that ‘learner mums’ are in the same boat a lot of the time.
It’s had 5,455 views (WordPress tells me that this is enough fill a NYC subway train 5 times over, which is nice). My top 5 posts were Jog-on, whingebags!, Lies, damn lies and statistics, Decisions, decisions…why I won’t apologise for mine, Food, glorious food! (apart from Mondays, when food is rubbish), and 2013: a virtual time capsule. All 5 of these started with me saying to myself “hmmm….doubt this will be any good”. Note to self: believe in yourself a bit more, you silly moo.
Oh – and this. 61 countries, people. 61. That really is crazy.
2014 was the year I lost a stone. And, I am proud to say, I lost it properly. There’s not much more to say on this, but for me this was and is a big deal.
2014 was the year our baby became a toddler. I don’t know when this happened, or how, and I did want to cry when 2 different people referred to Bear as a toddler in the space of a few days without consulting me first. Then I looked at her and there she was – walking around, understanding the basics, asserting her authority, recognising people and habits. Yep, she wasn’t a tiny baby any more.
When people told me to enjoy the first few months because they go so quick, it went in one ear and out the other. They were right though…I should have listened.
2014 was the year I resigned. I read a post the other week from Liz Fraser, an author, columnist and broadcaster. She (rightly) told off the countless mums that describe themselves as “just a mum”. After handing in my notice, I became one of these women – one of the ones that finds herself avoiding the question or apologising for not having a ‘proper’ job. Why do I do this? Don’t ask me – I haven’t a clue. But after 13 years I no longer have a lunch break, annual pay reviews, performance appraisals or set working hours. And I wouldn’t change it, either.
2014 was the year I got happy. A year ago today my Facebook status told my friends how happy I was at the end of a big year. Looking back, that was a lie. When I started this blog I promised to be honest – so here I am being, honest; I wasn’t happy. I cried most days, I struggled to sleep (even when Bear was sleeping fine). I didn’t like being home alone with Bear because I didn’t think I was capable, I dreaded days when we had no plans. I needed some help but I didn’t always like to ask for it. I didn’t feel like one of those happy new mums that you see in adverts that I believed, or indeed other mums that post on Facebook about how happy they are, and who I also believed. I was, in fact, really sad.
I don’t know what changed here either, but something did. Perhaps it was when I realised that I’m not the only one that struggles some days, that I’m not the only one who feels like she’s cocking things up, or that feels guilty for going for a wee on my own without a little ankle biter joining me in the bathroom. Perhaps it was down to realising that sometimes people lie. When they say that their little one sleeps through for 12 hours when they’re 2 weeks old, or when they eat everything that is put in front of them, or that they’re reciting the alphabet at 9 months and reading the Complete Works of Shakespeare by their first birthday. When they say they are happy, perhaps – just perhaps – they’re not. Perhaps they need a big hug and a good cry too…
So 2015 – what are you going to throw at me? I set New Year’s resolutions every January and by about the 3rd ( or if I’m lucky, the 6th) I’ve abandoned them at worst, forgotten them at best. So for the world (well, you lot) to see, I’m going to publish them here and try my best to stick to them. I
promise will try my very best…
- …to write more.
- …to stop viewing motherhood as a stop-gap in my ‘real’ work. This is real work.
- …to set up a website for some freelance work.
- …to get over my stupid fear of dropping Bear and go swimming more (seriously, I have never dropped her – why would a leisure centre change that?)
- …to lose half a stone, and lose it properly.
- …to remember that some people would kill for my ‘problems’. My problems aren’t problems.
- …stop swearing (as much…let’s be realistic here)
- …to be happy.
So happy New Year, peeps. Thank you for signing up to this blog (if you haven’t, you really should – it’s actually quite good and there is a little link on the right hand side that does all the hard graft for you…go on…you know you want to), and thank you for reading my waffle…it really does make me happy.