Everyone tells you how much your life will change once you’ve had a baby, but until you’re actually living it, it’s impossible to appreciate just how far the goal posts have been moved. Or just how much of your brain will be taken up with Peppa Pig trivia…

After another delightful wake up at ‘f*ck me it’s early!’ o’clock this morning (I can’t believe I used to think 6am was an early start; I’d sell my soul for that kind of lie-in these days), I thought I’d jot down a few pre-baby/post-baby me comparisons…

  • My main source of foot pain pre-parenthood was stupidly high heels. Now, it’s the Lego assault course masquerading as my living room floor.
  • The only chart I paid any attention to was the Top 100. These days my Google history is strewn with growth charts, milestone charts, food charts… I’ve only JUST unfavourited 50 Shades of Shite, also known as that perennial treat for the eyes, ‘Baby Poo – A Visual Guide’

  • Pre-baby me: “Ooh it’s a bit warm tonight, turn the heating down a bit will you?”
    Post-baby me: *Spends hours frantically re-reading Grobag charts trying to work out the complex ‘degrees + tog + layers, multiplied by a factor of five, whilst compensating for fluctuating overnight temperatures’ type maths, then gives up and decides to sit an inch from her face all night to make sure she doesn’t overheat.*
  • I used to absolutely dread my alarm going off in the morning. Now, as it tinkles cheerfully away in the background TWO FULL HOURS after I’ve actually gotten up, I allow myself a rueful chuckle, and try to resist the urge to throw the little f*cker straight out the window.
  • I used to be really self-conscious about someone overhearing me on the loo. Now, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to take a whizz without a tiny person lolling against my leg singing ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’ and shouting for Daddy to come on in and join the party.
  • The thought of a smear test used to fill me with unease, now I skip merrily towards that hour of quiet time like it’s a mini-break in Paris…
  • I used to be that judgemental arse who inwardly rolled their eyes when they saw a child tantruming in Sainsburys or *horror of horrors* watching YOUTUBE in a restaurant. Now, that child is my child, and if an arsenal of chocolate buttons and videos of oddbods opening surprise eggs is what it takes to get us from A-to-B without one or both of us crying, I am 100% on board with that.
  • Picture this…there was a time when Bing was just a search engine, Shimmer and Shine was just an eyeshadow palette, and Mr Tumble was just some twunt my sister hated. I think I spend more time with Justin than I do with my own husband most days!

Overall though, I’d much rather be post-baby me. She gets to hang out with this 2-foot tower of awesome (AND spend the odd afternoon watching back-to-back Disney movies and eating turkey dinosaurs, with absolutely zero shame. That’s pretty awesome too…)

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