Where the hood, where the hood, where the hood at?

Motherhood. Over two years knee-deep into the ‘hood’ and I still don’t know where it’s at!! I arrived at the ‘hood’ in my early twenties, slightly (OK considerably) earlier than planned and so wonderfully, gorgeously naive. Every so often, I amuse myself by catching a glimpse of my pregnant self (“glowing” they said) swinging oh so carelessly on my parents’ garden swing bench…devouring yet another book whilst basking in my pregnancy euphoria and glorious sunshine…so blissfully unaware of what was to come. Swinging whilst I was winning.

Then I amuse myself even further by associating this swinging motion with the complete contrast of the disturbing rocking motion (that of a mad woman) that took over me in response to that unmistakable clear blue line screaming at me in the control window of the pregnancy test – the pregnancy test my friend gave me and made me promise I’d take to rule out pregnancy. That’s right, to rule it out because my breasts were tender, I was emotionally volatile and to say I felt tired was an understatement – I couldn’t possibly be pregnant right? Right?!

Turns out I’d been pregnant for the best part of three months before I knew anything about it. I’d celebrated a new job (the beginning of my teaching career), Christmas and New Year in that time. All involved alcohol and an unsuspecting expectant mother acting like a 23-year-old bossing roly-polys on the dance floor in shiny pants. Now I think about it, some of the hangovers were ridiculous. It makes sense. I feel it’s significant that I mention here that no more alcohol was consumed once that blue line came about. It’s almost as if that cerulean blue drew a line under my former life. Little did I know that same blue was to reappear again 8 months or so later in my baby daughter’s eyes once they’d found their colour. Funny what blue can do to you.

My Mum knew before I did, how do they do that?! Once the rocking had come to an abrupt halt and I was done with throwing the test in an aggressive manner at my now ex-partner (the now Father of my child), my feet carried me to her workplace. She took one look at me and knew what I was going to say before I even so much as opened my mouth. Maybe the fact that I couldn’t even muster up a star jump the evening before was the final piece of evidence she needed.

It’s funny because I now find myself rocking trolleys in the supermarket despite my daughter not being in it and rocking my parents’ dog like he’s a baby and not an overgrown puppy of a Cocker Spaniel. Maybe the rocking never stops once the Mother in you begins.

Am I winning now I ask myself on a Friday evening as I sip on a Rekorderlig (strawberry-lime) writing my very first blog entry under the acrostic of MILF (still umming and ahhing about its controversial nature?). The answer is yes actually, yes I am! I’m winning in so many ways but never how I expected to be. I seriously had no idea. Nothing could have prepared me for it. I mean, you’d think after a good seven years of working with babies and children I’d have had a fairly good idea of what lay ahead of me as a parent-to-be. It’s not like I studied Childcare and Education for six years and gained a primary teaching degree with honours specialising in Early Years beforehand (I definitely did!).

Wherever the ‘hood’ is actually at, I am well and truly in it. Don’t get me wrong, I would not want to be anywhere else. It is my life, my calling even. I just adore how naive I was leading up to it. I was so unprepared in many, many ways. More of that to come. There is sooo much more where that came from.

Please do amuse yourself with the photo (hate the word ‘selfie’) I took of myself on said swing bench basking in said pregnancy with the hashtags #summer #swingbench #garden #reading #relaxing #mummytobe. I had the right idea though hey, doing it whilst I could. What do you mean I was sat still reading a book in the daytime. That’s a thing?