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If you’re happy and you know it

1
Let’s chat about happiness.

As evidence taken from some of my previous posts would advocate – I’m an anxiety fuelled, woeful bemoaning mutha (with a penchant for a tipple or two).

On paper, it doesn’t sound all that Jubilant really does it?

I know I’ve said it before, nevertheless I think it’s always beneficial to recap – I set sail on my blog voyage as a cathartic way to liberate some head space. To get it all out there (lord help me, and perhaps you) indulge my ramblings, but possibly, more often than not – offload, and sometimes

SelfishMother.com
2
have a good moan.

So, although a number of my posts seem to depict that my journey through motherhood has been a glum, desolate and miserable one, it really hasn’t – I’ve had a bloody ball! It’s just that trying to be continuously cheerful, assured AND Jovial is – well, quite tiring – and more often than not, a lot of the time, for me – that just isn’t representative of life. Least not when you are trying to juggle it all – be that a full or part time job, 24/7 motherhood (which let’s bear in mind, none of us auditioned for, and so –

SelfishMother.com
3
continue to learn on the job) nursery drop offs, school runs, keeping a relationship afloat, oh and the trivial matter of keeping your children alive.

Doing any or indeed (which tends to be the case) ALL of the aforementioned whilst preserving a jaunty smile on your face every day? Well, it’s all a bit much really. Isn’t it?

I’m a whiner, and I’m generally always up for a suitable bellyache amongst friends and family, but it doesn’t mean I detest my life and that I’m not amazingly grateful for all that’s in it – I truly am. I am

SelfishMother.com
4
incredibly beholden to all that I have – where I live, the fella I’m married to and the healthy dual damsels that we get to share our adventures with. That, for me is a given.

Equally, it’s all relative isn’t it? I think we can all experience a little stained vision along the way – when the unremitting exhaustion hits its peak, the relentlessness of the ground hog days become so monotonous that you are near to packing an overnight bag and booking a week at the nearest holiday inn to sit in silence –  OR, sometimes – it’s just the dickhead in

SelfishMother.com
5
front of you at Victoria station who sends you into a spiral of rage – the one who hasn’t topped up his oyster and proceeds to chow down on a Burger King during rush hour – gracing the airless carriage with a gentle hum of meat (DON’T BE THAT FUCKING PERSON!) In essence, we can ALL be blinded by the challenges of life, parenthood and seek an outlet to voice our grumbles. For me – I like to utilize friends, family, neighbours, pets, oh and the INTERNET to voice my rambles, and vent.

Amidst all the grumbling, it got me to thinking – what IS it

SelfishMother.com
6
that makes ME happy? A whole heap in fact.

Let’s get it out there first and foremost – it’s ok, I know a lot of people will be thinking it…

Booze. It makes me happy! It really does! Poppin’ a bottle of Kirkland (thank you Jamie for your Costco bargains – less so for the giant soy and Worcester sauce) prosecco whilst swaying around the kitchen to Bruno Mars following a triumphant double bed time victory, is akin to winning the lottery (on some nights) So, yeah. Booze makes me happy.

Our girls – they are the reason I am penning this blog

SelfishMother.com
7
– so I can work towards a more settled and accepted ‘me’ – they crack me up (mentally and physically) they offer light relief to the extremes and expectations of adulting, and without a doubt, they love me unconditionally – that blows my mind – and with that, they make me unbelievably happy.

My mates – bejesus what I would do without that collective – the old and dusty ones – who recognize the insecurities and cracks in my chat, nestled alongside the newbies – those who have indulged and invested in me, despite the novelty. The

SelfishMother.com
8
continuous (and no doubt sometimes arduous) support they loyally give me: perpetual whatsapp messages, rare yet magic hang outs, and boundless banter – they make me fantastically happy.

My family – the enormity of it all (there’s a lot of us) – each in their own little wondrous (and weird) ways – the noise, the chaos, the cousins and inevitably the politics that saddle alongside them – they make me so happy.

London – living in this frenzied city most likely does fuck all for my anxiety, alas –  I adore being a resident and trying, oh how

SelfishMother.com
9
we try to relish all it has to propose – even if that is just a big weekly Sainos supermarket trip on a Saturday morning.

To conclude my ‘happy list’ – the champ who delivers a massive nugget of glee to my life – Jamie. He makes me astoundingly angry at times, ah fuck it – ALL of the time. Sometimes,  I envisage shooting him square on in the face with massive shot gun, BUT for a mountain of reasons – he also makes me massively bloody happy.

Now THIS makes me
SelfishMother.com
10
happy.

The finale to my gleeful gloat, is that when I’m ranting away furiously (to my keyboard) and I just need to just screech “THIS IS A BIT FUCKING SHIT PEOPLE” I’m going to give myself permission for that to be OK.

It doesn’t mean I’m ready to pack up, and head off travelling to Cambodia, in fact it might be as simple that I have neglected to indulge in a little ‘time out’ and a peaceful poo of late.

Basically, the tidal wave that is life is an enchanted and mystifying mix – it’s a toughy – however, we

SelfishMother.com
11
can all let off some mist, AND still be content. Can’t we?

I hope so, or I’m buggered.

SelfishMother.com
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- 16 Jan 17

Let’s chat about happiness.

As evidence taken from some of my previous posts would advocate – I’m an anxiety fuelled, woeful bemoaning mutha (with a penchant for a tipple or two).

On paper, it doesn’t sound all that Jubilant really does it?

I know I’ve said it before, nevertheless I think it’s always beneficial to recap – I set sail on my blog voyage as a cathartic way to liberate some head space. To get it all out there (lord help me, and perhaps you) indulge my ramblings, but possibly, more often than not – offload, and sometimes have a good moan.

So, although a number of my posts seem to depict that my journey through motherhood has been a glum, desolate and miserable one, it really hasn’t – I’ve had a bloody ball! It’s just that trying to be continuously cheerful, assured AND Jovial is – well, quite tiring – and more often than not, a lot of the time, for me – that just isn’t representative of life. Least not when you are trying to juggle it all – be that a full or part time job, 24/7 motherhood (which let’s bear in mind, none of us auditioned for, and so – continue to learn on the job) nursery drop offs, school runs, keeping a relationship afloat, oh and the trivial matter of keeping your children alive.

Doing any or indeed (which tends to be the case) ALL of the aforementioned whilst preserving a jaunty smile on your face every day? Well, it’s all a bit much really. Isn’t it?

I’m a whiner, and I’m generally always up for a suitable bellyache amongst friends and family, but it doesn’t mean I detest my life and that I’m not amazingly grateful for all that’s in it – I truly am. I am incredibly beholden to all that I have – where I live, the fella I’m married to and the healthy dual damsels that we get to share our adventures with. That, for me is a given.

Equally, it’s all relative isn’t it? I think we can all experience a little stained vision along the way – when the unremitting exhaustion hits its peak, the relentlessness of the ground hog days become so monotonous that you are near to packing an overnight bag and booking a week at the nearest holiday inn to sit in silence –  OR, sometimes – it’s just the dickhead in front of you at Victoria station who sends you into a spiral of rage – the one who hasn’t topped up his oyster and proceeds to chow down on a Burger King during rush hour – gracing the airless carriage with a gentle hum of meat (DON’T BE THAT FUCKING PERSON!) In essence, we can ALL be blinded by the challenges of life, parenthood and seek an outlet to voice our grumbles. For me – I like to utilize friends, family, neighbours, pets, oh and the INTERNET to voice my rambles, and vent.

Amidst all the grumbling, it got me to thinking – what IS it that makes ME happy? A whole heap in fact.

Let’s get it out there first and foremost – it’s ok, I know a lot of people will be thinking it…

Booze. It makes me happy! It really does! Poppin’ a bottle of Kirkland (thank you Jamie for your Costco bargains – less so for the giant soy and Worcester sauce) prosecco whilst swaying around the kitchen to Bruno Mars following a triumphant double bed time victory, is akin to winning the lottery (on some nights) So, yeah. Booze makes me happy.

Our girls – they are the reason I am penning this blog – so I can work towards a more settled and accepted ‘me’ – they crack me up (mentally and physically) they offer light relief to the extremes and expectations of adulting, and without a doubt, they love me unconditionally – that blows my mind – and with that, they make me unbelievably happy.

My mates – bejesus what I would do without that collective – the old and dusty ones – who recognize the insecurities and cracks in my chat, nestled alongside the newbies – those who have indulged and invested in me, despite the novelty. The continuous (and no doubt sometimes arduous) support they loyally give me: perpetual whatsapp messages, rare yet magic hang outs, and boundless banter – they make me fantastically happy.

My family – the enormity of it all (there’s a lot of us) – each in their own little wondrous (and weird) ways – the noise, the chaos, the cousins and inevitably the politics that saddle alongside them – they make me so happy.

London – living in this frenzied city most likely does fuck all for my anxiety, alas –  I adore being a resident and trying, oh how we try to relish all it has to propose – even if that is just a big weekly Sainos supermarket trip on a Saturday morning.

To conclude my ‘happy list’ – the champ who delivers a massive nugget of glee to my life – Jamie. He makes me astoundingly angry at times, ah fuck it – ALL of the time. Sometimes,  I envisage shooting him square on in the face with massive shot gun, BUT for a mountain of reasons – he also makes me massively bloody happy.

new-happy-hour-neon-art-sign-handmade-visual
Now THIS makes me happy.

The finale to my gleeful gloat, is that when I’m ranting away furiously (to my keyboard) and I just need to just screech “THIS IS A BIT FUCKING SHIT PEOPLE” I’m going to give myself permission for that to be OK.

It doesn’t mean I’m ready to pack up, and head off travelling to Cambodia, in fact it might be as simple that I have neglected to indulge in a little ‘time out’ and a peaceful poo of late.

Basically, the tidal wave that is life is an enchanted and mystifying mix – it’s a toughy – however, we can all let off some mist, AND still be content. Can’t we?

I hope so, or I’m buggered.

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A London based mumma of two girls. Sharing my inner ramblings of motherhood and more on my blog www.themumblings.co.uk.

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