‘Hot Mess’? or just messy and hot?

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According to the Urban Dictionary a ‘Hot Mess’ is defined as, ‘When one’s thoughts or appearance are in a state of disarray but they maintain an undeniable attractiveness or beauty’.

I like to think I’m a Hot Mess, but my hotness is more due to hormonal flushes than ‘maintenance of my undeniable beauty whilst in a state of disarray’. The ‘Mess’ part is due to my lack of ability to make my appearance a priority.

Mother Nature I have a bone to pick with you. What kind of a sick sense of humour do you have that,

  1. Women who live in close proximity have synchronized menstrual cycles
  2. When your girls are going through puberty you will inevitably be going through THE Menopause dun dun DUN DAR!!!

Maybe your children are only small and you haven’t given this much thought yet, or maybe you are lucky enough only to have boys, but it’s a terrifying truth that nobody talks about. The Menopause. Have you ever noticed that we only put a ‘THE’ in front of awful things? Like ‘THE’ Black Plague. Or ‘THE’ Holocuast or ‘THE’ Irish Potato Famine?

It’s a hard enough job being a mum without extra challenges like the aforementioned, and I can attest to the joys of ‘Menstrual Synchrony’ with two teenage girls in the house.

I guess what I’m saying as a Hot Mess of older children, is that it’s all ‘trying’ in one way or another. I always used to think, “It will get easier when <insert ridiculous fantasy here>”. When what? When they drive?? Do you think that’s easier? Do you?? Now they’re out on the road ready to be squished by some idiot in a truck or end up in a wheelchair? Or when they’re old enough to be out late with friends? And murdered on their way home? Or have access to drugs? ..the list goes on, and on, and on. It’s as vast as your imagination and the 7 pm News combined. In fact, my list started early, it began with:

Life will get easier when:

  • She can sleep through the night
  • She can drink formula and I get my boobs back and ditch those ugly maternity bras
  • I can turn her car seat around instead of inconveniently reaching over to scoop her out rear facing
  • She is walking (God no, was I wrong about that)
  • She can wipe her own bum!
  • When she’s at preschool

Wait .. no.. ooops BAH BOW…

<Enter child number 2>

  • When they can sleep through the night….

It doesn’t get easier, it just gets different, and what changes is the depth of your relationship with them. You love now, more than you think is humanly possible, but as time goes on your heart somehow keeps stretching like an impossibly huge, unpoppable, ever-expanding bubble, and you find new and deeper ways to love and worry over these amazing little Hoomans you gave life too. And like the rollercoaster scene in the Steve Martin movie ‘Parenthood’, you’ve climbed aboard now and there’s no getting off, you’re there for the peaks and the dips, the joys and the sorrows, every crazy, heart-wrenching moment and you wouldn’t have it any other way. What strange creatures parents are, signing up for this. Who’d have thunk it?



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