When mayhem hits Mama right in the face

May 09, 2017

Cartoon courtesy of Jess Rae of Doodley Squat.

SOMETIMES I feel like I need a personal assistant to manage my life.

A life filled with endless to-do lists that never seem to get done because I just can’t seem to find the time.

Like most mothers, if you are not working (whether that is paid or not) you are racing your children or yourself around for appointments or activities or madly doing the grocery shopping before you have to pick up the kids from school.

Because God forbid you have to take them in with you.

Then instead of a 10-minute grab and go, shopping becomes an hour-long nightmare where you are repeatedly saying no to chocolate bars, Froot Loops and flavoured milk, reluctantly leaving your trolley to take them to the toilet because they can’t wait until they get home, then spending 10 minutes searching for the escapees before (and by this stage) yelling no to lolly pops and candy.

All the while being stared at by judgy people without kids or grumpy oldies.

Then finally making it through the checkout only to realise you forgot the main items you went in for because you were too busy yelling at the children.

Or forgetting the bag with the milk at the register.

Anyhoo, my to-do lists have become more like to-do novels lately.

Throw in organising a baby shower and I start losing my shit.

Not that I don’t love organising a party — in fact I do love it.

But I am not the most organised person at the best of times, let alone when I have rehearsals four nights a week.

However, when I was asked to arrange a baby shower for a work colleague’s wife who has only been in the country for a few years and doesn’t know many people here, I didn’t hesitate.

Unfortunately, time got away from me (as it does) and everything was left to the last minute as it often (maybe always) is.

So I was stressed.

Okay, okay, I was more stressed than usual.

But I needn’t have worried because the party was a huge success.

No-one was offended by the vagina cake, there was enough to eat, no-one regurgitated baby food in the tasting competition and the mother-to-be’s water didn’t break while laughing hysterically at her blindfolded nappy changing.

It all made me a little maudlin, remembering my first baby shower as the mother-to-be. But not so maudlin that I hankered for those sleepless nights (before and after delivery). I might be getting a little ditzier as I head to 40 — but not that stupid.

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