baby

'How's ur day?' A woman's extensive text to her partner perfectly sums up the life of a new mum.

The below text message was sent from a doctor to her partner after a particularly “sh*tty” day with dog and child in tow. It has been published here with full permission.

Significant other: “How’s ur day?”

Me: “Rush to obstetrician for 10am. Forget baby bag but whatever, manage to get baby, dog, self in car. Get to hospital. Busting for wee. Find toilet that fits pram. Make it to doc’s office. Nurse cuddles baby – gets spewed on. Leave.

Baby cries in lift, manage to bottle-feed whilst navigating pram back to car, hit old lady on back of shins with pram. Rescue dog from car. Walk dog and baby in park. Feed baby. Feel am winning at life and pat self on back for being so organised.

Decide to meet brother for lunch. Get table outside and congratulate self again on navigating car-to-pram-to-table with dog and baby in tow. Baby cries. Pick her up. Feel wetness EVERYWHERE. Look down, brown SH*T painted all over baby, pram and wool sheepskin thingy that sits under baby. Brother says sh*t also all over white t-shirt.

Watch: The things mums never hear. Post continues after video.

Go into toilet. Put baby on floor tiles (no change facilities), fashion pillow from 3 bibs, try to clean baby. Give up. No spare clothes so wrap baby in blankets. Abandon lunch, try get diarrhea-baby in car, dog refusing to get in car. Dog lies down on path. Pick up dog, nearly drop poo-baby. Hipsters in cafe give sympathetic looks. Wistfully remember being one who also stared with pseudo-care at mothers in active-wear losing their sh*t on footpath.

Poo-baby screams all the way home. Manage to half pat baby from front seat while stopped at each traffic light: feel may have avulsed rotator cuff tendon whilst doing so.

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Get home. Wait in driveway while deliveryman in large van does 45-point turn in car park. Finally park in spot, get poo baby out, realise can’t carry all baby accoutrements, decide to get pram out of boot to use as carry-all. Somehow dislodge front wheel of pram while shaking pram open with one hand. Dog slinks under car.

Regain composure, get wheel back on pram whilst holding poo-baby. Deliveryman now unloading 17 boxes. Pram will not fit past van. Can’t get to house, so try going through neighbour’s garden. Pram stuck on cactus. Try to converse with delivery chap – ask him to please pick pram up and carry over garden as no room on either side of van. No English. Use hand signals, poo spreading further, baby screaming. About to lose own sh*t.

Finally, man understands crazy arm-waving lady who has gone red in face. Get to front door. Realise no dog. Have to go back for defiant dog who is refusing to walk past van in driveway. Drag dog into house by lead. Poo-baby screaming. Dog staring at bowl, forgot dog had no breakfast. Can’t put poo-baby in pram as full of literal shit and baby paraphernalia so elect to push dog food container over with foot and let spill on kitchen floor as compromise. Get upstairs. Bath baby, tits swinging freely as had to remove poo T-shirt and bra combo so as to avoid re-dirtying baby.

Baby clean but screaming for feed. Can wooly thingy from pram that’s covered in shit be soaked? Don’t know, whatever, put wooly sheepskin thingy in Napisan. Put baby on daybed so can take off pants which realise are also covered in poo. Trip on shoes, fall over, narrowly missing baby. Feel am about to cry. Stand up, scratch boobs absent-mindedly then realise am standing in front of window in full street view.

Would usually care, now no longer give crap about neighbours copping eyeful of giant swinging milk mammaries. Retrieve crying baby from daybed. Collapse in chair and attach infant to leaking mammary. Dog and baby now exhausted.

Just so you know, I will be drinking wine tonight.

How’s ur day?”

Can you relate to this mum’s day? Share your story in the comments.

The image used in this post is a stock image.

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