Two glasses of wine

The dawn of the internet era and the rise of ‘honest’ parenting being available for all to see, has seen (in my opinion,) the evolution of The Wine O’ Clock Mum come full circle. I’m certain it’s always been there-my nan enjoyed a large brandy once her brood (of NINE! WTF nan, how did you even…?!) were in bed (the little ones,) or off down ‘Spin A Disc’ (the hangout of choice for the older ones.) My mum enjoyed a sherry (the only thing I judge there mum, is that sherry is VILE, but I’ll let you off, Prosecco wasn’t a thing then.) and I’m sure they sometimes (gasp,) had more than one, and I know from the stories they’ve told me, that they both had friends who knocked it back during ‘working hours’ too.

They didn’t have large whatsapp groups to post pictures of themselves at 7.01pm, holding a large glass, with thumb well and truly up. They didn’t have blogs to read, that told them that all the other mums were doing it too, so it was ok. They just did it, and probably poured another while dutifully getting dinner on the table, and sighing about what was in store for them the next day.

What the internet has done is:

1. Make it known that other mums found being a parent a bit hard.

2. Make it ok to want to reach for the wine at the end of the day.

3. Make it divisive-it’s ok apparently to openly call these parents out for being ‘slummy,’ and to put those who don’t choose the same end of day treat, into a different category.

4. Turn it into a cliché-the ‘war cry’ of the pissed off/tired/stressed/delete as appropriate mum. Enjoying wine as a parent, is apparently different to enjoying it when you aren’t.

I recently saw an advert looking for a parent to write a (click bait, troll inciting) article on why the end of day roll call of the parent shouldn’t be to reach for the wine-it wanted the writer to explore how life has come to this, and why it’s wrong. Why has it become such a cliché.

Well, I for one, love wine. I did before I had children-in a wine tasting holiday to the south of France kind of way. In a going to the pub after work kind of way. In the taking the edge off a stressful and shitty day at work kind of way. Nobody however, ever turned that into a cliché-it was just normal, and nobody ever gave it a second thought.

I have a grievance with these ordinary things, that you do all the time before you have children, being turned into something entirely different once they’re here. What’s the difference in a pre children instagram snap of me and my friends drinking after work, to one of me as a non working parent, drinking with my non working parent friends? It’s not always a ‘look what they’ve driven us too Lol!’ or ‘look, wine time before bedtime #badmum!’ It can be quite simply, ‘oooh, I’m going to sit down, now it’s quiet, and have a lovely glass of cold wine,’ like I used to after work. Like my parents still do now.

For me, I savour my husband flitting in from work and taking over bedtime, having the quickest shower, so that I can get into my pyjamas, and enjoy that lovely Gin and tonic-that is nothing to do with my children’s behaviour, or trying to be part of some post bedtime alcohol club-just simply because I like Gin.

I don’t do it to be cool, I don’t do it to try and put myself into some sort of parenting category. I don’t even do it every day-sometimes I have a herbal tea and go for a run instead. My appreciation of alcohol, and the fact that I’m a parent, are completely separate things. I am not the Wine’ O Clock cliché that the internet would have everyone believe, I’m just someone who appreciates good wine, who happens to be a parent.

There was once a woman who lived in the South of England. She was wife of a Keifer Sutherland lookalike, and slave to the role of parenting. Nobody ever listened to a word she said, or ate anything she cooked. She was either found repeating herself like a useless parrot, into an abyss, or trying to reduce the size of her cellulitic, insulin resistant ass, by #shabammingtheshitoutoflife and letting out a bit of wee.
She had started to wonder if she had anger management issues. She had always prided herself on being calm-in her old job as a nurse (pre #shabammingtheshitoutoflife and incontinent days,) she was often referred to as ‘the calm one,’ or ‘the kind one.’ Outwardly, she mused, she was probably still those things, except pretty much 99% of situations nowadays, led to her screaming a stream of expletives in her head, or into the abyss (98% of the time out of earshot of the children, but she was only human, and has let out the occasional shit and twat around them. They don’t listen to a word she says though, so it’s ok, they’ve never repeated it.)
Old ladies tutting at her moaning children in coffee shops-old her thinks: ‘oh gosh, I really must stop inconveniencing these poor people.’ New her thinks: ‘FUCK YOU, YOU CRUSTY OLD BINT.’
Her child at playgroup is trying to ride one of the bikes down a slope, with the moderate threat that he might fall off. Another mum tells him he shouldn’t be doing it. She tells him it’s ok. The other mum won’t leave it alone. Eventually the little one is crying because of the other mum’s persistence, eventually leading to her blocking his path. Old her thinks: ‘She only has his best interests at heart, she doesn’t mean to be completely annoying.’ New her thinks: See above.
She watches a barista put ice in her children’s drinks while taking them out for a treat. Old her thinks: ‘Oh dear, brace yourselves for the shit storm peeps! You’re just about to ruin my children’s day my love!’ New her thinks: ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?????? WHAT ARE YOU DOING??????? WHY ARE YOU NOT PSYCHIC, DON’T YOU REALISE MY CHILDREN HATE HAVING ICE IN THEIR DRINKS, AND WILL MOAN LIKE HILDA ACROSS THE ROAD DOES ABOUT HOW HER PILES, YOU ARE RUINING MY LIFE!’
People moaning on Facebook, about the same things-old her thinks: ‘Oh dear, I hope they feel better for moaning about that for the millionth time.’ New her: ‘You stupid reprobates, just find some more meaning in your lives, for the love of God!’
And her current favourite-people making a huge announcement that they’re having a social media ‘clear out,’ old her thinks: ‘Oh gosh, I hope I’m not cleared out, I will wonder for years whatever I did to offend them.’ New her thinks: ‘If Jeffrey Dean Morgan followed me on social media, and announced he was having a clear out, and got rid of me, I’d be devastated, and would probably cry. ANYONE ELSE AND YOU DON’T NEED TO MAKE THE BIG BLOODY ANNOUNCEMENT!! JUST. STOP.
I’m sure you’re all getting the picture. She even has a friend she messages for certain rants, and asked that friend the other day, if she thought she had an anger management issue. Said friend kindly recommended a yoga DVD, and a headspace mindfulness app…
There could be many reasons for the woman’s ‘problem.’
She could maybe just not be walked over in the same way she had been accustomed to being.
She had previously astounded herself with the fierceness to protect her offspring, which made herfar less quiet than she had ever been-maybe this had carried on, and she was turning into the feisty woman she always wished she’d been.

Maybe she was starting to realise that she gave less of a crap about the less important things in life, and wished everyone else was the same.

Maybe being asked for snacks 5 minutes after every unfinished meal, had finally driven her round the twist.

Maybe the lack of personal space, proper working conditions, lack of adult company, and scrutiny of her every bowel movement for the last four years, had finally become too much.

Whatever the reason, she didn’t like it too much, and will be working on it over the next few weeks.

Just don’t say that this sometimes happens to ‘women of a certain age,’ she might punch you.

So this week has been a bit hard… Firstly, my children have been REALLY hard work-including the day I spend much of the afternoon at my GP surgery, being prodded around by several doctors, while the children swung from the curtains, attempted to destroy blood pressure monitors, emptied drawers, and generally made me want to die from shame. In fact, they’ve generally been like that all week, but at that time, I was really feeling the need to tell them in my best angry-but-trying-to-sound-kindly hiss, to just calm the heck down.

Anyway, as you may have guessed from the Drs visit, I haven’t been feeling too well this week. Despite that, I’ve still made it to Sh’bam, spin, HIIT, and body combat. But First, LET’S TALK ABOUT HIIT. My lovely friend convinced me to go along, ‘it’ll be great!’ she said, ‘there’s pair work, we can work together, it’s an amazing workout, better than circuits,’ she said. YOU WILL WANT TO THROW UP DURING THE WARM UP she DIDN’T say…. Jeez, I have given all the classes so far, a really fair shot, but I think it’s fair to say, I am 100% not going back to that. By the end of the next day, my legs were crippled, and I was still suffering the humiliation of being a hot and sweaty mess beside the rest of the class who were MACHINES, and feeling like I’d give myself a black eye from my gut flapping up to smack me in the face, during what felt like hours of ‘high knees.’

Food wise, I’ve stuck to all my usual meals pretty much the same as last week if you wanted to check out last week’s menu! But as well as being a bit under the weather, I’ve had one of those totally unmotivated weeks-you know-where you’re just a bit unmotivated with life in general? My appetite hasn’t been great, and I definitely feel like I’ve been running on empty-physically and emotionally. I was useless at combat today, and spent most of it kind of rolling around on the floor wishing I was at home (it was a very quiet class!) and it’s usually my favourite one.

(What I really wanted to be doing this week…)

I’m hoping I’ll have my mojo back a bit next week! So far, I’m not planning on making any changes to the food, although I might have to look at it again next week if I’m still at a plateau (because I haven’t lost anything this week,) but I have stayed the same, which is fine (I’m a bit disappointed, but trying not to be too hard on myself about it.)

lbs lost: Still 14…

What’s hurting: MY LEGS.

 

Update: Nearly a week after HIIT and my legs are still screwed!

*This is part of my ‘Cysters Are Doing It For Themselves’ series, about trying to kick some PCOS/insulin resistance ass. Other posts in this series can be found below.

PCOS Has Ruined My Life

A Change Is Gonna Come… Food And Exercise Changes I’m Making

Hey Cyster, Go Cyster, Soul Cyster, Go Cyster

Why Does PCOS Always Feel Like A Battlefield, A Battlefield, A Battlefield

Not So Fat Bottom Girl 

See you for next week’s update!