Mom standards | A collab

Today’s post is a bit different from my usual stuff. Today Rebecca, mummy to the gorgeous Reuben, is taking over my blog and bringing you this post about motherhood.

We decided to get together and do a little Collab after we were chatting about the subject as we found we have a lot of similar views on the matter. If you want to read my views then check out Rebecca’s blog where I’ve taken over!

That’s all from me, I’ll leave you with Rebecca…

There’s no shame in admitting that parenting is hard. The workload of a mother, or whoever the primary carer of a child is, can be overwhelming. That’s no secret. These days, at least, we make it very clear that we are very tired, sometimes just by sharing relatable posts on social media. Like this one…

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In fact, this post in particular really sparked the conversation for Bex and I. We realised that despite our individual differences, the same struggles exist for both of us. For instance, we never come first.

My son, Reuben, is 10 months old and I feel as though I cannot keep up with how fast he grows. I mean this in the sense, that by the time I have one wardrobe sorted out for him (say in 6-9 months) he is already in the next size up! My purse can’t keep up! My brain can’t keep up! And when it’s a change in season too? That’s a lot of expense.

You can of course lower costs by buying second hand but I’ve found trying to buy from people selling on Facebook, quite difficult, and getting into most charity shops with a pram??? No. It’s not happening. The door itself presents itself as an obstinate challenge! A challenge, that you just don’t get when you’re browsing the gorgeous range of clothes in Asda… or any supermarket really. I love the fact that supermarkets do gorgeous, in-budget, affordable baby clothes.

When discussing this with Bex, I realised that no matter where you shop, no matter where you can afford to buy your baby’s clothes from, the same race to keep up with your growing child still exists. Meanwhile, I’m wearing leggings, pjs, bras and knackered t-shirts from pregnancy. Those things got stretched! They’re out of shape (like myself!) and I could do with getting some new clothes. I mean, there’s a lot that I suddenly need to fork out for that I absolutely cannot afford. But that’s motherhood for the vast majority, isn’t it?

The truth is before I had Reuben, even when I was working and had working partners, I didn’t feel like I had a lot of disposable income but now I realise I had a considerable amount to spend on myself compared to now. I mean even things like going and buying home decorations, or notebooks, or nice shampoo… They’re all things now that belong in the “things I want” category and I don’t come first anymore. Although, before I had Reuben, that didn’t occur to me either so I can’t really complain. I feel like I should have invested more money pre-baby in wardrobe staples because now it’s a struggle to buy them. I just can’t justify it when I have perfectly good (if a little dishevelled) clothes in the wardrobe, that will do.

However, I appreciate being blessed with my baby very much and despite struggling to buy everything Reuben needs – let alone everything else – I recognise that, you can have all the fine things in life and still be unhappy so what does it matter? One day I will be able to spend money on myself, but that will mean that my son is grown. I don’t want to rush these days away just because money is tight. I need to save but I need to spend, which means budgets and constraints, but that’s okay. Just look at how happy Reuben is? And he doesn’t care what I look like. He doesn’t care that we don’t live in the kind of place I’d rather be living. That’s not what matters to him. And if I’m honest? It shouldn’t matter to me either. I’m sure times will change, eventually, but for now I’m embracing the mum uniform in its’ full glory (even if he does look better than me at all times #rude)!

I just want to say thank you to Bex, for letting me ramble all over her blog! And also thank you to you, too, for reading this post. πŸ™‚ x

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