Coffee and a hot cross bun

 

The dishwasher needs emptying. The dirty breakfast dishes are piled up awaiting my attention. The laundry needs sorting and there’s yet another white load to go on. But for now I’m having this coffee and a hot cross bun. 

I’ve just dropped Poppy off for a few hours of fun at nursery and Milly is still in a car journey induced slumber. This is my opportunity to be just me for a while. Even if it’s only for 15 minutes. I can down some caffeine, eat something naughty with my two hands free and write this blog. I can be a a little bit more me and a little less mummy. 

In the early months of a baby’s life, as a mum you surrender your independence. You happily forfeit your individuality and for a short while become an unrecognisable version of yourself. Half human, half milk machine, you are at the beck and call of your tiny offspring. Your body still feels slightly alien and you spend an embarrassingly large portion of your day analysing the contents of a nappy while cooing in a high pitched voice, blowing raspberries, talking goo goo and ga ga and chanting twee rhymes on repeat. All with the aim to make your little bundle of loveliness smile (or at least stop wailing). 

However blissful these times are. And however immensely rewarding it is to achieve that smile, provoke the cutest little gurgle or simply prevent a quivering bottom lip from progressing into anything scream-like, there’s always a moment in the day when part of you craves just a snippet of time to be you again. 

So along with the smiles, giggles and adorable gurgles, these stolen opportunities for a few precious minutes of me time – about the time it takes to devour a coffee and a hot cross bun – are important to cherish. So I’m off to do just this. 

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