Having a baby introduces you to a whole new world dominated to keeping your child entertained. In the early days , sometimes I questioned whether the entertainment was for her or for myself? … This is when you start signing up for baby classes. My first introduction was to Baby Sensory which co-incidentally was run by one of my besties and I loved. I think this was partly because of the way she is in her classes – it’s like a switch goes off and she becomes a cross between Mother Earth and Coco the clown, her enthusiasm for what she does is amazing and mothers and babies are enchanted. Not to mention they have themed weeks where fancy dress is encouraged, not that I needed any encouragement!
Since moving to Essex I haven’t been so lucky with baby classes. For obvious reasons (because I tend to offend) I won’t name them but two stick out. One was a “new mum’s meet & greet” class where Layla ran riot around newborns and I spent most of my time moving my free gravy-like coffee out of her way and questioning how the fuck one of the mums had time to bake nut /gluten / sugar / taste -free banana loaf for the group.
Another mum who announced that she was doing baby-led weaning and basically came each week with a ruck sack of food, put her baby in a high chair and just let him throw shit everywhere without actually eating anything whilst she caught up with her mates really pissed me off. I think the nail in the coffin was when me being me; opened up about how breast feeding wasn’t for me and I couldn’t wait to get her off the boob. There was snarls… mostly from some mum who had dread locks, a tattoo on her tit and her 4 year old kid looked about 9 because he was so fat who then told me very loudly in front of the group, how important it was for bonding with your baby and how she will continue to do it for as long as she could and I should have tried harder. K’innell love- where’s your sense of Girl Power you bitch?! And while you’re at it, wearing deodrant will not make your baby love you any less.
And this is the problem, not every mum is going to be like you, agree with the way you think and not judge you for saying “can’t wait til baby stays at nanny’s house so I can go out and get wasted“, but when you do meet those mums – cling on to them for dear life.
The second class I mentioned is one that we still go to simply for shits and giggles. It’s in our local library and run by one of the workers who told me she was 30 but looks about 50 and not only isn’t a mother but i’m highly doubting if she’s ever been shagged. Ok so i’m judgemental as fuck but i’m only saying that you have to have a certain “pizazz” to run baby classes – you only have to look at Mr Tumble on CeeBeebies and know that he’s a bit of ham short than a sandwich but the kids love it. Library bird needs to stop wearing mum brown tights and run a pair of GHD’s over her frizz head… oh and be a bit more sympathetic to crying babies (she once asked one mum if she could shush her baby so not to disrupt the class!) Every week she looks around the class (mainly newborns) and asks if we’ve had any birthdays? – mate some of these kids are fresh out the womb, know your audience!
The singing then commences, she has a list of favourite nursery rhymes which I must admit I’m only just learning the words to some of them 6 months in! She has a voice not of a cat being strangled but more like a blue whale being castrated – deep and pained. My saving grace is some grandad who reminds me of the the bodyguard in Love Actually when Hugh Grant sings Good King Wenceslas (← click on the song!) rolling his RRRRRs and generally giving it welly – go’ed son. Without him in the class it would sound like that time at church when our Organ player realised he was a grown adult with a rep to protect, jacked it in and left the congregation singing completely out of tune to This is My Body.
On the days that we don’t have baby class and she isn’t at nursery (i.e. when it’s down to me to entertain my own child until my husband walks through the door) I do find that sometimes a bit of i-Parenting doesn’t do them any harm. When I first had Layla I swore to myself that I didn’t want her to be a screen addict and if she was going to watch T.V. it would only be in French so she’d hopefully pick that up. My, my how things have changed…
Need a shower? Cup of hot coffee in peace? Ironing? Tidying the house? Put a wash on? Make the dinner? Need a poo? …. the solution – T.V. on
Don’t beat yourself up mamas, we need a rest too!
On that note i’m off to catch up on some trash t.v. whilst the kid is in bed, over and out ♥