Ever since I’ve had a baby I have been deeply paranoid about becoming a ‘baby-bore’…
Even as a mum I know there is nothing worse than being stuck talking to another parent who can talk about nothing except little Timmy’s nappy rash and what blueberries do to his poo…
But recently I have found myself teetering in the edge of baby-boredom because it’s officially been a year since I last worked and I think I’m beginning to lose my already tentative grip on reality…
I’ve become completely obsessed with buggies. I know every make, model, colour and accessory range known to man. I am a human pushchair encyclopaedia.
I spend hours in the evenings searching for toys and clothes online. Fantasy shopping the shit out of eBay and Mamas & Papas. God forbid an actual catalogue arrives in the post; I have developed a page folding/labelling system.
When I find a cheap deal on nappies I issue an email to my mum friends like some kind of twattish nappy-price inspector.
At least 70% of my Facebook statuses start with ‘gin’ or ‘teething’. I’m fairly sure I’ve been unfriended by around 35 people since I had the baby… Arseholes.
I am obsessed with taking photos of the baby. Usually around 20 a day. My baby photo albums are broken down by week not month… Even the grandparents start to look bored after 45 minutes of JULY – WEEK 3.
I’ve developed a baby voice. I promised myself I wouldn’t but it’s there. Squeaking its way through afternoons playing with stacking cups and sporadically breaking into song. It’s like being possessed… By a complete twat.
Worst of all, and most worrying of all, I can’t stop talking about having another baby. What is wrong with me? I swear someone is injecting me with mind altering drugs.
All of the above could be swiftly corrected if I just went and got a job. But considering my CV now basically says:
I am awesome.
Key skills: twitter, one handed nappy changing and gin.
I don’t think they’ll be beating down the door somehow…