Mum's not EVERY word.

I've had two separate conversations over the last couple of weeks with friends about mothers who, perhaps, 'over-share' with regard to their children. It's a curious hole that some women fall into. Up to a point, they are humans in their own right - able to conduct a semi-coherent conversation with other adults, go out for a drink, etc... when suddenly, they get pregnant and it's like life - existence in its entirety up until now - is erased. Full, normal brains are sucked out through one ear and sludgy, gooey mulch is poured into the other by way of replacement. Suddenly, replacing the first letter of any given word with a 'w' ** and discussing the consistency of human excrement (more specifically, the contents of a nappy) becomes acceptable. I don't want to be harsh, but in this instance - to be anything else would be a complete lie.

Because you know those friends - the ones you had pre-pregnancy? The ones who held your hair back while you were drunkenly sick in a bush, listened to you wail like a banshee when your boyfriend broke up with you, laughed until they cried when you fell over in the six inch heels they had encouraged you to buy? Them? Yeah. They all think you're a twat now. 

Izzy

I have a little girl myself, and I fully admit that to me, she is the most adorable toddler on the planet. There is nothing she does that I don't find heartbreakingly cute. She's also hilarious. She repeats sentences like "Daddy's a mong" with the verbal finesse of a four year old at just under the age of two, and squinty-eyes me when I won't let her play with a pen. She's awesome. 

BUT. I'm very aware that she doesn't belong to everyone; that not everyone in the world cares if she has nappy rash, or a cold, or throws a plastic brick at my head. I remember how it felt - trying to pry myself out of the cold hands of a coma when someone talked to the side of my head about sterilizers and walkers, teething and colic. Ladies, I implore you - save these conversations for the friends of yours who also have children. Only then will you be talking to a willing audience. You are, and I promise this, boring the shit out of everyone else. 

Try not to update every single Facebook / Twitter / Other-generic-social-networking-site with news of whether your child managed to eat some cereal or went five hours without throwing a tantrum. The chances are, only a very small percentage of the 200-odd people you're sending this information to are not rolling their eyes. 

Try really hard not to open that social networking profile on behalf of your child. It's not cute. It's not funny. It's actually kind of awful. Your friends will feel obliged to befriend them. They will die a little inside by doing so. You will never be able to redeem yourself. 

Children are a blessing. I love the one I have and the one I'll be meeting in a few short weeks. They are not, however, an excuse to mentally disintegrate. It is possible to be a person and a parent. Knowing the difference will save you some friendships and some sanity points. 

** example: "I wove my wittle boy"