Being a Mum ain't glamorous

Last week I read a hilariously honest recount of one mum’s experiences post birth, being stuck on the loo waiting for that infamous first number 2, that we can all, I’m sure, recall!

It gave me such a good chuckle that I was inspired to share this post. We Mum’s get stuck in some pretty doozey situations and have to face some rather disgusting tasks. The Poo-nami is one that will never be forgotten in our house.

We’ve all been there, some of us perhaps share the experience with friends or partners, whilst others might push it down deep inside until they are ready to revisit the ‘horror’

Whatever your situation it is always nice to know you aren’t alone and just plain have a darn good chuckle at the indignity and some times crap (pardon the pun) Mums put up with.


The whole truth and nothing but the truth

My husband and I used to joke that we had terrible timing because when our first child was born we had a massive 8x weddings to attend before bub would turn 3 months of age.

Now this would be draining enough but was coupled with the fact that my husband had a role in each of these weddings and so navigating fancy clothes, church/service, reception with a small bub was all on moi.

It was at one of these lovely romantic occasions that our story takes place. We survived the ceremony (barely- by survive I mean my husband outside with screaming baby and me inside trying to listen to the vows and willing my boobs to not implode). We drove to the reception, where we were met by my parents-in-law, as my husband whisked away to prepare for his role as MC.

My 8 week old refused to take the bottle, no matter how hard we tried and so I was sitting in the back seat doing the joyful BF juggle in my fancy dress, having a conversation with my MIL through the open back door. I was busy explaining what was in the nappy bag, what timing I thought bub would do etc. I then proceeded to outline that bub had been a little ‘blocked up’ and not gone for a couple of days (which I had been assured happened sometimes and wasn’t a worry). My MIL looked a little concerned but I said I have packed lots of wipes and a change of clothes so you should be fine.

Literally as I finished the word ‘fine’ we heard an all mighty explosion of sound from bub’s behind. You know that lovely squelchy noise that can only mean a tiny milk fed baby has unleashed on their nappy. This was pretty standard for my bub so it didn’t phase me and I kept on feeding. My MIL looked aghast but I assured her it was, good in fact that I could help change it before leaving them to it. We then chuckled over the timing of me having just finished my ‘big poo coming’ warning.

On to side two, still happily chattering away to my MIL. It was a scorcher of a day and I was in a satin dress, so the slight dampness that I felt I assumed to be a combination of clothing and the fact that I had a tiny body pressed against me.

A few minutes in however, bub pulled off and took a big intake of breath (which I now liken to the water that retreats from the shore before a tsunami) there was a second ‘boom’ from the backside. So loud in fact that my FIL, who had been perched outside people watching, came over to see what had caused it. We all burst out laughing! It was so comical that such a tiny thing could make such a noise…

Then I felt it… and all laughter disappeared, the sudden rush of liquid, simultaneously pouring into my lap and down both my legs. I gasped and lifted bub slightly to reveal the full damage. My MIL gasped ‘Oh my God’, my FIL stared like an animal in headlights.

My FIL was sent to get the wipes, while I grabbed bub and wrapped her in a blanket, to contain the mess, passed to my MIL so that I could minimise the damage on me before conquering a nappy change that warranted a bath, not measily wipes.

I should add here that people were taking their seats at the reception across the road as this was all happening.

So there I was in my fancy satin number, hair styled, make-up artist created face, giving myself a bath ala curash.

We cleaned me up, cleaned bub up, had another attempt at cleaning me up- dress, legs, shoes (yes it had even leaked into my shoes).

It took a whole packet of wipes, but I succeeded in smelling more like a baby wipe than baby poo.

I took a deep breath, gave bub a kiss and trotted off to join the reception. No one was any the wiser. In fact many people commented on how lovely I looked- All I could think was ‘Oh, if you only knew!’

Oh the shit us Mums go through some times. But we soldier on, grin and bare it and of course store it away as amo for the day we choose to remind our children of all we have done for them.

You will be pleased to know when we arrived home that evening after midnight. I did shower, for a very loooong time.

Hope this gives you a chuckle. And reminds you that these stories are worth sharing so we can remind ourselves we are all in this motherhood gig together.


Your hands-on helper,


Rach x


P.S. I am so glad I had my PIL with me as they rallied with me and helped me see the humour rather than the horror. You two are the best!