Since moving back to the UK, I have been in a bit of a rut. No motivation to do anything but having far too much to be getting on with. You know, all that mundane life admin that piles up to create a sea of monotony and soul-destroying tedium?! I’ve found it pretty tough leaving my Tdot Mama Tribe (and the year-round blue skies) so it’s been a lonely few months of settling down, doing up the house and trying to make friends.

During this time, the boys (well, one of them!) have become increasingly irritating too. My quiet, chilled out General has become a tantrum maestro, fuelled with aggression and menace. He loses his shit on a daily basis, refuses to eat properly (or at all) and wakes up at stupid o’clock just to piss me off.

On the flip side, The Lord has become helpful, compassionate and unbelievably observant. Soon after his fourth birthday I noticed a significant change in his behaviour. He readily apologises when he’s done wrong, tries to encourage the General to behave when he sees me struggling and recently, even offered to be my best friend when I was sad.

Ironically, it’s the Lord’s new attitude that upsets me the most. Why? Because he notices when I’m sad, and when I’m stressed and I can see it upsets him…which upsets me even more. I’m already battling the mama guilt for feeling unhappy (as if we don’t beat ourselves up enough I even bash myself for being down!) and to see this little dot of a human reach out and try to take some of the burden is both humbling and heartbreaking at the same time. After a conversation with one of my friends in Toronto (I was despondent to say the least) he just sat on my knee and said “I know I’m not Margo, but I’ll be your best friend in England, Mummy”. Cue the waterworks, unparalleled levels of pride and excruciating guilt.

I can’t help but think that most of my ‘sad eyes’ (The General, 2017) are caused by a desire for more. More time to get things done, more head space to see things through, more (any) mama friends to drink wine with, more responsibility away from home, more motivation to look after myself…the list goes on. I know we can’t have it all, but just like those working mamas who pine after their absent fledglings; I sometimes wish I had accountability for something other than wiping a snotty nose and making sure the beds are changed regularly (ish).

I am in No Mum’s Land. I want part of both worlds but my desire to stay with the kids is preventing me from taking that leap. I am bored of the same routine and it is chipping away at my ‘good mum’ status. Add to that a fairly substantial weight gain and a Britney Spears-style hair disaster (dye job not shave job, fortunately) and you got yourself a stressed, depressed and badly tressed mama.

But, enough is enough. After a productive day of playgroups and cleaning, a brief but pertinent conversation with a good friend triggered something inside me last week. I realised I have been waiting for something to change rather than bringing about that change myself. It was just another form of making excuses: – I’ll start exercising after my diastasis* has reduced, start socialising more when I lose weight and feel better about myself, start eating better when we extend the house and build a kitchen, etc. We’ve all done it!

So, over the next few weeks I will document the changes I’ve made and (hopefully) my mood will improve and I shall once again be in a pink and fluffy place. Why? Because I tend to find it’s not enough to just be responsible, I need to be held accountable too (public self-shaming is a powerful motivator!)

My starting line looks like this:

Weight:

• 16,800** ∴ [to protect my more sensitive readers, I have converted my Muggle weight into Wizarding currency. ∴ being the symbol for Knuts…sort of]

Mood:

• Emotionally motivated (as in emotional about being motivated, not driven by emotion)

Achievements:

• Week two of my Holistic Core Restore course under my belt (literally)
• Hair appointment booked for May (delayed gratification)
• TV and wine consumption reduced across the board

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*Diastasis Recti is the separation of the abdominal muscles. Mine was caused by mahoosive baby bellies!

**Weight has been corrected to reflect recent Wizarding currency exchange rates.