by Lou Kenny
I can’t quite remember what my expectations were prior to having the golden child, hereafter known as GC (this isn’t a reference to the ridiculous Eddie Murphy film Golden Child but, spoiler, both the film and my mothering experience contain strange hallucinations and a lot of other-worldly gurgling).
While I was pregnant I happily imagined the hipster-esque, fantastic fun that GC and I would have together at home while husband worked like the fool he was. “Haha, silly daddy!” we would say as we sat opposite each other in a trendy café looking down our noses at babies who didn’t know how to correctly pronounce quinoa. GC would look at me with his perfect, huge blue eyes and ridiculously long eye-lashes and say, in a perfectly plum and polished accent at the incredibly advanced age of six months, how there had never been another mother as wonderful as I. That I had lost all my pregnancy weight instantly and with absolutely no effort. That I maintained my luscious, mermaid-like hair that would never fall out despite what naysayers kept naysaying. That our days were filled with songs, craft, laughter and that naps were bountiful and easily come by.
Let me tell you what I actually did today.
We woke up. I don’t know what time, we just got up, okay?
We ate. The usual for GC. I managed a few bites of cereal and toast that actually fell on the ground before I got it onto my plate, but I made it there before the dogs got it and no actual adult human saw me so it doesn’t count.
We eventually got dressed. I have been wearing the same pair of leggings and husband’s flannel shirt for maybe six weeks. I am shutting my eyes as I walk through the house at this point per my “if I don’t see it, it doesn’t count” sentiment above. Mess can wait (for husband to get home).
We walked to the shop to get lunch. An old man told me to watch where I was going with the pram that he had actually stepped into. My loud expletives were potentially heard suburbs away.
A friend and her baby stopped by. We ate a piece of cake in silence while staring at our children lying on the floor. After about an hour she left. Same time next week.
I stared into GC’s beautiful blue eyes with super long eyelashes (that part of the fantasy came true). He smiled at me. I smiled back. He burped and regurgitated milk got into my eye and seems to have bonded to my contact lens.
The dogs bark and husband gets home.
“You look lovely today, darling”.
“Shut up”.
How was your day?
Lou Kenny is a 31 year old first time mother. She lives in Melbourne with her darling baby, long-suffering partner and two needy, ridiculous dogs. To see all of Lou’s articles, click here.
