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- 24 Aug 15

Course I knew having kids would change my body. Growing a human and getting it out of your fanny is always going to have an impact, but I didn’t have a clue quite how much….

Super smell. A sure-fire sign you are up the duff. Suddenly every person on your commute stinks. Even the smell of toothpaste is horrendous.

Tribeswoman tits. So-long pert knockers of my youth!

Incontinence. DO YOUR PELVIC FLOORS. A few token squeezes is not enough. Do it. Do it properly. Otherwise you will end up pissing yourself.

Dislocated Dummy Shoulder. A common injury caused by trying to reach to insert a dummy into the mouth of a screaming child in the backseat of the car.

Tears from hormones.

Tears from your milk coming in.

Tears because you just want to sleep.

Tears because you don’t actually know why. And now you’re laughing like a nutter.

Piles. My advice? A) Lactulose B) Shuv ’em back in.

Selective-deafness. A unique ability to zone-out whingeing/Peppa Pig/irritating repetitive music. Gets better the longer you’ve been a parent.

Fanny Daggers.

Stretch Marks. “I am a tiger who earned its stripes”. And then had to buy a tankini.

Hair-loss. Not a few strands. Falling out BY.THE.FISTFUL at approximately 4 months post-partum.

Weird dark marks on your face known “the mask of pregnancy” – Google it.

A rearranged version of your body. Finally back down to pre-pregnancy weight (kind of). Yet still none of your clothes fit?!

Gas. Trumping. Farting. Blowing-off. Whatever you call it, its happens without warning post-babies.

Mothers Sway. Absent-mindedly rocking a supermarket trolley thinking its a pram.

Dry mouth – from Gas and Air.

Dry mouth – from continual shhhing and patting to sleep.

Dry mouth – from sneakily eating the plethora of dry snacks you have to at hand for a toddler.

Eye bags. Obvs.

Mummy Strength. The unbelievable ability to carry a toddler and a baby in a car seat, and a nappy bag and bag full of Boots stuff into the house.

Long toe-nails. Come 7pm I’d rather reach for wine than polish.

Breast-feeding stops your periods. Thank god for small mercies.

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Clemmie Telford

Whatcha. I am a Mamma of two little boys, living in South East London. It feel as if I am constantly winging it as I parent. But maybe I'll still feel like that when I am 72? I write in lists because, well, I'm not quite capable of stringing together or writing a sentence any more. They are a collection of observations of this mental journey we are all on. It's a 'roller-coaster ride' you can't get off, so we may as well laugh (and drink Gin).

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