A badge of honour 

I’m sitting in the local coffee shop waiting for 4pm to come around when I pick up my daughter from daycare. In this moment, I’ma strange mix of pleasure and guilt. Pleasure: because I’m treating myself to a coffee, a biscuit, and a book that is waiting to be devoured without interruption for 30 short minutes. And then there is guilt. Guilt for sitting here, alone, eating that sugary biscuit, while my husband is at work, while there is a mountain of washing piled at home, while there are emails to reply to, Uni assignments to proof read… the list goes on and on and on….

Mummy guilt is the shittest thing. It really is. Why is it that us mamas find it so hard to treat ourselves occasionally? Why do we come down so hard on ourselves for allowing us to enjoy life’s basic simple pleasures: a shower alone. A coffee in peace. A book in bed? A god damn BISCUIT.

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Why do we deprive ourselves and wear the pain like a badge of honour. We did it the hard way, without help, without sleep, without sugar, caffeine, without support, without any fun, without without WITHOUT.

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I’m so f*cking tired of wearing that stupid badge so I’m taking it off and chucking it in the nappy bin with all the other shitty things. 


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