Tired tales from the parenting coal-face: Mum of two Emily shares stories and solidarity while listening to Let it Go for the millionth time.

Emily Writes: The loneliness of motherhood

I long to talk to other parents but I'm too exhausted to actually engage in proper conversation. Photo / iStock
I long to talk to other parents but I'm too exhausted to actually engage in proper conversation. Photo / iStock

There's so much about motherhood that I find lonely.

It's such a strange concept because you're almost never alone when you're a mother. You can't even poop without your little person handing you toilet paper. Showers have audiences. There's often more than two people in the bed and it's not the exciting kind of more than two people in a bed experience.

My two year old is always talking to me. Where's this? What's that? This please. That's mine! No! NO! He provides a non-stop commentary throughout his day. All in the third person.

And yet - I feel deprived of conversation. I talk to him about why you have to be gentle with the "beuful bufly" and why it's not a good idea to put rocks in the baby's basket. I talk to the baby: "Are you hungry sweetheart?" The answer is usually quite clear when he attacks my nipples with the ferociousness of an angry platypus (I imagine angry platypuses are very ferocious). I talk to myself: "They're both asleep? At the same time? What do I do?"

I long to talk to other parents while at the same time being too exhausted to actually engage in proper conversation with said parents or to seek out those parents to make said conversation. The internet helps. This blog has made me feel a lot less alone. Twitter was my lifeline when my oldest son was born. Especially when I spent long nights awake in hospital staring at him with only my fears to keep me company.

In the two and a half years since I became a mother I have made some really, really great friends. Friends I can't imagine my life without now. I love them fiercely. They make life better. They're real friends where you know it's not just the kids keeping you together.

When I went back to work I envied their play dates and wished I was sitting in their warm and loving homes sharing coffee. I missed them.

This - my second time around - is different as they're all working or studying now. My home is warm and loving, but it's empty of adult companionship.

And at night, without my husband in bed with me, feeding in the darkness, I feel very lonely. There's something truly isolating about breastfeeding. It's again, such a strange concept, because you literally have another being attached to you. But ultimately it's just you. You're alone with your sore, cracked nipples. That painful let down that can be so forceful it can bring tears to your eyes in those early days. At a big family picnic on the weekend I sat in the bathroom feeding. There's definitely nothing more isolating than hearing laughter and shouting when you're stuck in a tiny room alone.

I know I should go to playgroups. Maybe baby sensory. Or a "rock and rhyme" musical thing. There's a lot to do out there. But by the time I have the kids dressed and changed and fed - it's almost time for my toddler's nap. And I will not mess with my toddler's nap time. It's the only time I have to do any housework or to check the news or have a solo poop.

If I somehow do manage to get to one of the absurdly early mum and bub groups I feel so awkward walking in late with a toddler who is wearing a helmet, batman cape, and mismatched shoes. Especially when he's chomping on some not-organic-at-all, totally processed and definitely bad for you type of food thing.

I worry about what others are thinking. That's quite narcissistic because they probably don't give a sh*t. But I'm not a confident parent so those thoughts come easily.

I find mum groups intimidating. The other mums seem so together. They have philosophies - attachment parenting, free-range parenting, permissive parenting, evolutionary parenting, maybe even paleo parenting - like, no nuts or something.

I can't even spell Montessori (I had to Google it). They speak with such confidence on positive parenting, body autonomy for children - all things I care about but don't feel I know anything about. What do you do if your parenting philosophy is just - try to make it through the day without anybody getting badly injured?

I'm sure my philosophy of Just Do Your Best and Love Your Kids is exactly the same as theirs when it comes to the crunch - but I feel overwhelmed with how on to it they are. They know what they're doing. They seem to have thought a lot about how to approach every topic there is. I often just feel out of my depth.

But six weeks in, I'm lonely. So I'm going to have to sort it out.

Or I'm going to have to start a playgroup of mums who try hard but fail quite a bit but never intentionally. One where it's OK for me to show up with a bit of puke in my hair.

Or to drink eight coffees even though I'm breastfeeding. Or to confess that I get Montessori and Steiner mixed up. One where it's OK to turn up late. And forget your kid's drink bottle. And wipes. Why do I always forget wipes?

Maybe I'll start recruiting today. Yes, that's what I'll do.

So, if a sloppy looking, sweaty, haggard red head with two kids hanging off her approaches you in the park - smile or run (depending on how you feel about this post).

READ MORE: Stop telling me how to feed my child

- nzherald.co.nz

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Tired tales from the parenting coal-face: Mum of two Emily shares stories and solidarity while listening to Let it Go for the millionth time.

Emily Writes is a mum of two gorgeous boys under three. Her blog Mama Said took off when she wrote her first post about the ways parents are silenced - it went viral and since then she's been writing about the joy and heartbreak of parenting to a huge audience. Emily lives in Wellington with her husband and they're both really sick of picking Countdown cards and dominoes off the floor of their lounge. Once a week, we will share posts from Emily on what it's really like in the sleep-deprived world of parenting.

Read more by Emily Writes

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