equality

Loneliness and time alone and how becoming a mum changed my relationship with both

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Our daughter was born and all of a sudden all those moments of time to myself that I’d never realised were such a big part of my day evaporated. Goodbye solitude, I’ve got company.

You don’t appreciate how many parts of your life constitute alone time until they reduce down to seconds grabbed between feeds, cuddles, and attempts to persuade your child not to dive head first off the sofa.

I look back on all those times I went to the toilet without somebody there to squish my tummy. On all those showers I had where I didn’t feel the need to poke my head out of the cubicle every 30 seconds to shout “ARE YOU OK?” to the little person in the cot in the next room. On all those train journeys I spent reading a book rather than supplying snacks to the small dictator in the pram, perched on the edge of my seat, waiting to see which of the items I’ve selected will be deemed acceptable today. (Fruit, mummy? Really? Try again.) Did I appreciate all that freedom? Of course I didn’t.

Nobody appreciates time until something changes your relationship with it, and becoming a parent definitely does that.

But while I find the lack of freedom hard, having such limited windows to myself has forced me to make the most of the time I do have more than I ever did before.

I’ve learnt to snatch moments to myself, however brief. Ten minutes with Friends on in the background while Leon gives our toddler a bath and I cook dinner. Forty minutes on my laptop on a Sunday morning before everybody else wakes up. Thirty minutes slumped on the sofa on a Friday evening in the gap between my return from work and Leon’s arrival with our daughter after nursery. I don’t mind admitting that I LEG IT home for that sit down. You’ve got to get your rest any way you can in this game.

When time feels so precious, you don’t let yourself waste it. I now know just how much it’s possible to get done in half an hour. Want the house tidied, a tray of brownies baked, and a week’s worth of washing put away? Get a parent whose toddler is taking a nap on the case – and they’ll still have time to negotiate you a new mortgage deal, too. I’ve been amazed and delighted by how the limits on my time have helped me focus my mind and get sh*t done, because I simply don’t have time to fanny about.

I’ve also changed how I think about how I use my days off work. I used to think annual leave had to be used for a holiday or a trip away, or at least for a fancy meal out. And of course it’s great to keep some for those treats, but now I also keep a handful to do the things I can’t do the rest of the time. To sit in a café and write a blog. To go to the cinema by myself. To listen to a podcast with swearing in it without worrying that I’m going to damage the next generation.

I adore my girl and value our time together more than anything else in the world. Being her mum is also the hardest work I’ve ever done, so I do my best to take moments to myself where I can, so I can give her all I’ve got when we’re together.

Because we’re together a lot – most of the time in fact – which is exactly how I want it to be. Nonetheless, one of the other things I’ve found most surprising about life as a parent is how lonely it can feel, despite the fact that you’re in company almost constantly.

It’s the weight of the responsibility, I think. On the logistical front, it’s being the one in charge of deciding everything that we’ll do, when we’ll do it, and what we’ll need to have with us so that we survive the day/avoid significant social embarrassment.

And on the emotional side, the desperation that (when it’s just the two of us) only I feel to get things right for her can feel a bit isolating, too. All I want is to make her happy and to create days that make her feel loved, inspired, amused, interested, and, let’s not forget, sufficiently pooped so that she’ll sleep well, for all our sakes. It’s a lot to be responsible for getting out of a day, and when things don’t go to plan – which is all the time, by the way – it can get you down.

I am of course not on my own. My husband is just as much a parent as I am. But for two days of the week, he’s at work and I’m at home looking after our daughter. And on the days when I do go to work, I do the majority of the childcare around it, because he works longer hours than I do. As a result (and because we live in the society that we do), it’s me who takes responsibility for most of the bits and pieces that keep us going day to day. The meals we eat, the endless supply of milk our daughter requires, the admin that gets our bills paid and keeps the roof firmly over our heads, and so many more things that find their way on and off the ever-growing list that lives inside my brain.

I am incredibly happy and grateful for our life and feel appreciated for my efforts, I just sometimes feel a bit alone in my role, too. I expect we both do.

But as our daughter it getting older (all of a sudden she’ll turn two next month) and she’s getting better and better at communicating, she’s taking an increasingly active role in our time together, and it’s making me feel so much more… accompanied in everything that we do.

She can now express opinions (which, of course, can be inconvenient/tricky to manage, but let’s focus on the positives for now, shall we?), so she can tell me what she thinks of the ideas I have for us. The other day I told her we were going to the farm and she said “Yay! Yarm!” and it made the whole trip that bit more joyous because we were in on the decision to go together.

For a while, parenting feels like something you do ‘to’ your child, rather than with them, because you just have to make decisions on your own. It can be a lonely job, being in charge all the time, so it’s nice to start getting some feedback. It’s most definitely not always positive, but when it’s good, it makes the meltdowns worth facing. And every meltdown teaches me more about how to empathise and communicate with a child who still has so little control over her world.

When you’re expecting a baby, you understand that you’ll probably feel pain during the birth, tiredness after sleepless nights, and a relentless need to go for a wee every 20 minutes for the rest of your life, but you don’t think about what responsibility for your child will feel like in practice. I didn’t realise how much effort I’d have to put into feeling content as an individual (as well as a mum), but I’m glad I have as it’s made all the difference.

Though a lack of time to myself can be trying, knowing that I’m making every moment I do get count helps me feel like I’ve had a break, even if it’s a short one. And when the pangs of mum-life loneliness kick in, I’m lifted by how much more confident I now feel to make decisions for us, to try new things, and to talk about what a roller coaster motherhood can be.

Body image: Be careful with your words

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20151112_101751After a week of activities celebrating all things International Women’s Day, one issue has stood out for me above all the rest.

Now this is a tricky statement – there’s a lot of stuff we need to put right, a lot standing between us and equality – and I’m not saying one thing matters more than another. I’m just saying that one topic that kept arising over and over again has really stuck in my mind and made me want to do something about it.

And that is: body image.

I went to see Caitlin Moran on Tuesday night (and wrote about it afterwards). I went to a brilliant event for UCL Women’s Day on Wednesday called ‘What’s funny about Everyday Sexism?’ and heard from the very funny and very wise Cally Beaton, Luisa Omielan and Laura Bates. And then this weekend I’ve been to more of the Women of the World Festival (WOW) at the Southbank Centre. (Yes I am quite tired now.)

And every single time, body image came up in a big way.

The way women and girls see themselves.

The inability so many of us have to just accept a compliment.

The level to which we – from a frighteningly young age – want to change the way we look, lose weight, be ‘prettier’.

The perception that ‘pretty’ means ‘successful’.

The terrifying damage that feeling we don’t look ‘right’ can do to our minds, our lives, our bodies.

The relentless apologising we do for our legs, our stomachs, our flesh.

The words so many of us use to describe ourselves – always caveated, mocking, self-deprecating.

The need for all of this to stop.

There are two short videos that you should watch on this subject:

At WOW, Radio 1 DJ and all-round excellent female Gemma Cairney showed a film she made for the festival last year. She’d been around the country speaking to young girls about the issues affecting them. It broke my heart.

Stand-up comedian Luisa Omielan does an amazing routine about the ridiculous way women speak about their bodies and why it needs to change. This woman is hilarious, wise as hell AND on YouTube.

We all know this is a big issue but it’s only when you see it on this scale, on this kind of stage that we realise how widespread it is and how urgently we need to make a change.

20160227_160954I’ve written before about my own inability to take a compliment without making a joke. This remains a struggle. Partly because I enjoy making bad jokes more than I should, and partly because I’m genuinely just too embarrassed to say “Thank you. I chose this outfit/hair cut/pair of gold polka dot brogues on purpose and I stand by that decision.” After this week, I am going to get better at this.

Because not only is it important for my own happiness, confidence, and basic good manners, it’s important for all of us. We need to be careful with our words. The more we hear people putting themselves down, the more we think that’s what we all have to do, that it’s the polite way to speak about our bodies.

The more we stand in front of the mirror next to a friend saying ‘OH MY GOD I LOOK LIKE AN ACTUAL BAG OF RUBBISH. I SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED OUTSIDE!’ the more they’re going to respond with ‘YOU LOOK LIKE RUBBISH? I LOOK LIKE A BANANA THAT’S BEEN TRAVELLING AROUND IN SOMEONE’S HANDBAG FOR A WEEK – JUST A MESS!’

Seriously, why is this a thing?

There is much to be done about what other people expect from women in terms of our appearance – about the way we’re represented, about what we’re all taught about how women and girls supposedly should look.

But starting with the way we talk about our own bodies and those of our friends and peers is most definitely a good place to start.

Because if we all stop saying the bad things, eventually we’ll stop hearing them.

And if we all stop hearing them, then perhaps we’ll stop believing them.

And if we all stop believing them, the better prepared we’ll be to take on anyone who dares suggest that we should be anything other than just the way we are.

What it’s NOT like to be in a relationship

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You have to ask for permission to go out alone

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Here’s a thing I don’t understand: when people assume that being married or in a long term relationship means that you have to ask for the permission of the other person to go out without them.

I hear it a lot. People asking men if they need to check with ‘the missus’ before they can commit to plans, others wondering how somebody’s husband will ‘feel’ if their wife spends a weekend without them. And too often you hear those in relationships confirming this opinion, making their wives out to be like prison guards, only letting them out for their allotted amount of fresh air, or suggesting that their husbands are so helpless when left alone that there’s a good chance they’ll panic and accidentally eat all the furniture.

In this house we’re pretty clear about what’s not allowed. The rules are:

1. Don’t sleep with anybody else; and

2. Don’t be a dick

That’s pretty much what wedding vows say, but in prettier language. (I do of course have a number of other lower level rules of my own, such as don’t wear shoes in the house, don’t leave crumbs everywhere, and don’t leave lights on in rooms you’re not in, but unfortunately these seem to be seen more as ‘loose guidelines’ than rules. It’s hard to enforce them without being a dick which, as discussed, is against the rules).

But beyond that, the world remains free. We can both go out, we can partake in conversations with other humans, and we can be so bold as to say that we have had fun, despite not having been side by side at the time. As long as everybody is safe and well when they return, and ideally not covered in mud or having purchased a pet tarantula, there’s nothing to worry about. Because, when the above mentioned rules are observed, what harm can a little apart time do?

Perhaps he’ll go the pub with a friend, drink all of the alcohols, come home and smash open a leftover Easter bunny, devour the whole thing and then come to bed having left all the downstairs lights on (and by ‘perhaps’ I mean ‘this is what happened on Thursday’). I’ll admit, it did disrupt my plans to gain a solid seven hours sleep, as well as my intention to consume said bunny myself the following day – and you can work out for yourself how I felt about the lights situation – but it made real no difference to my life or our relationship. I just had to remember to keep my voice down the next morning, and point gently in the direction of the ibuprofen.

It’s important to remember that you marry someone, you don’t hire them. You don’t get to decide what they do and between which hours. There’s certain boundaries of course (once again, see above rules) and I do recommend a joint calendar in the interests of planning your social events, but that’s quite enough. No need to clock in and clock out.

People should give themselves and each other more credit. If you’d rather stay at home than socialise then just say so – or pretend to have a migraine if you’re that embarrassed – but don’t blame your other half for your own desire to stay in with them eating Cheetos.

There is no need to play up to this ludicrous idea that women spend their days guiding their husbands around the world like puppets (How much spare time do you think we have, exactly? With Coronation Street, maintaining my eyebrows and hating total strangers for no apparent reason, I really can’t fit anything else in), and that men expect their lady friends to remain by their side at all times in case they accidentally set themselves on fire.

If that is your situation then, well, I’m very sorry to hear it and I recommend thinking about what you can do to change it, but if you’re just saying it for something to say, then don’t. You’re breaking rule number 2 and I’m sorry but that’s just not allowed.