maverickmommaadventures

On the writing front this week has been slightly unproductive and bitty. I have resorted to stealing the odd moment with a note pad and pen and nothing very focused. This week has left me very drained constantly dealing with unforseen eventualities, like a leaking shower. Any spare time has been dedicated to dealing with bills, domestics and off course a screaming child.  These so called self help guides for parents, that I mentioned in the last post rant on about delegating to a spouse. They say " men hunt and gather and women nurture". I am doing all the hunting, gathering and nurturing, playing the role of a mother and father. When my daughter screams " I want this, I want that" I find my self screaming back " What about what I want"? Anyway my rant is over for now. Lets see if next week can be more productive?

With the best of intentions I visited the local library with my daughter at the weekend. As I put her in a corner for" time out" for naughty behaviour I came across a book, that I literally thought was a godsend. It was "The Girl's Guide To Being a Working Mum: How to be happy at home and happy at work" by Caitlin Friedman and Kimberly Yorio.  Just from skimming through it I feel reassured that I am not on my own with my feelings of guilt and have actually discovered  some good mantra's to keep me sane. For example by taking care of myself I am taking care of my daughter. Also just because I am a mum it does not mean that is the end of my writing dreams.  However when it comes to practical advice some of it is impossible for me to apply. For example delegate to your spouse, which I do not have or want. Also the suggestion about not doing laundry everyday, which is easier said then done considering my daughter has only been out of nappies for a few months

Most of us would associate this phrase with romantic love. I feel this is also the case when you find something in life that you love to do, your passion.     Especially when this passion conflicts with the love you have for your child. I love writing and know this is what I want to do for the rest of my life but I also love my daughter.   On a hot sunny day we will get lunch in a café. While we are waiting for food   to arrive I will scribble down some notes. I try to do it discreetly so that she knows my attention is on her. Some would say this is good multi-tasking. Others would say I am a bad mother. The flip side of that with some parents is that they give up on their own dreams and try to get their children to live them. They end up taking their frustrations out on their children if they do not succeed. I have also come across parents who pour all their love onto their children and nothing else. When they flee the nest they have nothing in their lives

At last I have found a profile  picture for my blog. As a result I feel inspired to write this post.  It is quite fitting for the theme I would say, as it was taken on a very manic day. A few months back I was asked to recite one of my poems for an event and do a cookie stall.  Leading up to the event I had to compose a poem especially for that occassion and stay up for a couple of nights baking cookies. All this while taking care of a toddler who was not potty trained then. I still managed to find time to paint my nails, do my make up etc etc. Now that is how a real life yummy mummy fits it all in. I get frustrated when the likes of Heat magazine have front page pictures of these stressed out celeb yummy mummies. How do us normal mums living in the real world get by without the entourage and the celeb salaries?

Going back to what I said in the introduction, I will be updating my blog weekly but not necessarily on a Monday. As a working mother of a nearly four year old also juggling my writing, domestic duties and various interests etc. etc. Every day is a manic Monday. Even a seemingly relaxing weekend away. Take last weekend for example when my daughter and I went away for a friend’s wedding and the weather was just gorgeous. Sounds relaxing? Hmm not necessarily. It was my daughters first train journey with packing for both of us and the need to look fabulous for the wedding. I was lugging a heavy rucksack around Cambridge while controlling my daughter. All this wearing an expensive silk suit and high heels. On the train journey back for the first few minutes my daughter seemed happy just watching the scenery. The hypnotic effect of it must have sent her to sleep. As she fell asleep on my lap I worked on my two hundred word piece for the writers group on Saturday. I was also