The New human Being

They’ve given me a new human

with rice paper limbs

They took it from me

Though I’m sure that can not be

They’ve let me take it away

from a building of people

who know better than me

and have health care degrees

he squints into my eyes

we both look fucking terrified

they’ve given me a new human being

and my job is to keep it breathing

I’m sure any moment

they’ll realise their mistake

till then I’ll try to let it feed from me

We can cling to each other

like clueless life rafts

in this ridiculous sea

Maybe it’s all not lost

I read a book once

and I went to one class

Maybe they’ll let me keep him

if I love him hard enough

I’ve got a feeling deep down

I might be made of stronger stuff

his shoulders fit within my knuckles

his robin chest rises up and down

who left this precious speck of gold

with this absolute clown?

all we can do is cling to each other’s chests

and hope for the best

not now

but maybe in a few years

you’ll see me as home

and I’ll laugh about the time

I held you in my clueless hands

as delicate as glass

I guess I’m your mum

I guess you are home

 

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I’d be sexy if…

I’d be sexy if it weren’t for these nipple pads
right now, no amount of make up can get rid of these bags.
I’d be sexy if it weren’t for the scar
and the overhang
my big baggy pants
and my nursing bra.
I’d be sexy in skinny jeans
without the outline of my maternity towel
Plus bloated ankles in compression stockings don’t half look foul.
The surgeon made me go pop
leaving a deflated muffin top
a complete absence of tone
or ability to make out my bones
and all parts of me are leaking
and my nipples take an all day tweaking
You say breast feeding will get down my weight
like I haven’t got enough on my plate
You say I’m getting back my figure
like my issues can’t get any bigger.
Give me a minute
Just to be a new mother
Then I’ll get back to being an object
of criticism for another
give me a week to remain in our bubble
before I’m forced to urgently resurrect my vessel from the rubble

Smelly Poos

mummy's writing darling

Smelly Poos

Don’t whinge about your husband
some people don’t have a husband
or a boyfriend for that matter
or friends even – to have a coffee with, and a natter
some people are lonely and despair
if he won’t fill the dishwasher, do you really care?
You could be widowed, or too ugly for a man
hold on to him Ducky, for as long as you can.

Don’t go on and on about how much you loathe your job
don’t you know some people have to thieve and rob?
some people can’t get an interview or type a CV
some can’t get their head around a bloody PC.

Don’t moan about your dinner, praying to Venus
oh if you could just. be. thinner
Some people don’t have meals, or food while we’re on it
ditch the calorific wine and have a Gin and tonic.

And don’t moan about your children.

Don’t cry about your baby, never sleeping through the night
his smelly poos
how much milk he gets through
how bloody expensive was that Jumperoo?
how he wrote on your wall with your eyeliner pen
I swear to God boy, don’t make me count to ten
how sometimes his crying drives you crazy

Some people can’t have a baby.

The Mum Next Door

brands worked with

There is a mum next door

you’ve caught sight of at dawn

dragging the bins out at night

dragging the kids out in the morn

mostly you hear her

and the little terrors she bred

screaming, crying, cbeebies on incessantly

the Gruffalo exhaustedly read

and I can bet my tax credits

on the fact that she’s lonely and sad

and that 38 times today the toddler has driven her mad

she worries so much about what her neighbours must think

she avoids their eyes as she stands sobbing at the kitchen sink

Lord oh Lord, what next door must hear

will she get reported for the children’s noisy tears?

You’ve seen her offspring in the garden

wearing only their nappies

you’ve seen her shouting at them not to eat worms

and with her husband in the morning all snappy

you’ve seen her put out the washing

covered in baked beans, looking grim

you’ve seen her blowing up the paddling pool

and sipping what looked like Tonic and Gin

you’ve not spoken to her yet

you assume she’s not got time

but she’d snap off your leg

for a neighbourly glass of wine

a chat, a smile, a cup of tea

all she needs is a bit of adult company

she wants you to tell her the kids are alright

and that she’s doing fine

that you don’t mind hearing the fights

every night at bed time

that you were her once

though it’s so long ago you’ve forgotten

that you don’t know how she does it

spending days cleaning and wiping bottoms

that you don’t judge her one bit

that sometimes kids, well, they can be little gits

I know this mum next door

and how hard she tries to be

(but fails at being) the perfect mummy

because the mum next door

well the mum next door is me.

The Tiny Shoe

 

It’s hard to put my finger

on the moment that we knew

but I think it all came down to

a tiny little shoe

 

Oh the things that we’ll do

the people that we’ll see

once it resumes to just being

little old you and little old me

 

we can have actual adults around

have grown up dinner parties

without having to stop between courses

to wipe those little arses

 

we can have a clean home

i’ll bring in a ‘no shoes’ law

no porridge, dribble and lego

strewn across our floor

 

we can go to foreign places

to couples only resorts

we can lounge around on cruises

not a single child friendly caravan thought

 

we can Kondo the shit out of life

be completely organised

we can be ruddy spontaneous

take long relaxing drives

 

we can eat our dinner in a fancy restaurant

like Sinead once said

without frantically downloading kids’ apps and ssshhhhing

with all the other patrons wishing we were dead

 

we can have more adult time

swing from the chandeliers

without the theme tune from Balamory

pissing over the romantic atmosphere

 

we can relax and unwind

sleep in till eleven

when the kids have grown up

well, it’ll just be pure heaven.

 

But as we were moving

you found one of their tiny shoes

and we sat, all misty eyed

pondering on what to do

 

see, If we’re honest I don’t think we ever really had much fun

till you arrived

and then your little brother arrived

my son.

 

we thought that our ‘baby’ days were well and truly done

but now we can’t shake off the thought

maybe

just

maybe

just

another one?

 

and that’s how we started thinking we might want more than two

God Damn you, you tiny little shoe.