By Mother Pukka
This weeks Guest List comes from the supremely brilliant Anna Whitehouse AKA Mother Pukka. Pioneer of #mumbathing. Raiser of money for Right to Play. This girl really is ‘Parenting the Shit Out of Life’. Check out one of her videos on www.motherpukka.co.uk – they are proper genius.
Here’s her List of ‘Things I Wish I’d Know Before I Became a Parent’.
Don’t book a crazy babymoon thinking its ‘your last chance.’
Must. Go. To. The. Maldives. We had a pre-baby bucket list that ended up stressing (rather than chilling) me out. I wish we’d just had a week off at home together instead of 24 hours-worth of flights and being isolated from nearby medical help for seven days. Every little kick made me FREAK out.
Bulk buy Benefit’s Spin the bottle concealer.
It’s the only thing that Sellotaped my face together after project procreation launched.
Become breast friends.
Find someone, anyone who is a vague friend fit and happens to be breastfeeding. You don’t need to be lifers, just sane enough to sit next to each other in a café and ‘get it’. Like, they’ll reach for things (iPhone, sugar, cake) you need without you asking and stuff.
Laugh until you cry and cry until you laugh.
Accept the madness. Don’t fight it. Realise that things are going to be a bit mental for a while and that’s OK.
Make food, not love.
However the small human emerges, it nips a bit. However much of a nymphette you are, you’ll be off sex because it frickin’ hurts. But that’s no excuse to let it go. My husband and I would have sushi picnics (not some dodgy euphemism) in bed when I couldn’t move because of my C-section scar and massive, out of this world large, knickers. No sexy times here but his impression of a walrus with chopsticks was everything I’d hoped for and more.
Two words: Topshop Maternity.
There’s a grey marl maternity jumper I got there that has seen three other friends get through their pregnancies. Do not (and I repeat) do not go in there past 21 weeks preggo. The teenagers in crop tops and norks out will put you in the darkest of places.
Honesty is the best policy.
I had a friend who was up and at ‘em 10 days after birth. I walked in on her doing Tracy Anderson’s post-pregnancy workout as she was breast feeding the baby. She is a maternal/aesthetic goddess. I am not and that is OK. I tried to mirror her and ended up crying in a heap with two lonesome bottles of wine (used as weights) rolling around next to me. Everyone’s different, everyone’s great and it’s all just about keeping the small humans alive – with or without Lulu Lemon Lycra.