Often when you have a child, a big chunk of your identity gets lost.
Overnight you become the most important person in the world to someone else.
You’re their food source, their comfort, their safety…. You’re their mum. And everything else in the world is secondary to that.
As they get a bit bigger they obviously don’t need you quite as much – their neck can hold the weight of their own head for a start.
But still, being a mummy can be the thing that defines you.
After waiting for nine years for my boy, and undergoing fertility treatments galore, I can hand on heart say that being Sonny Jim’s mummy is the best title I’ve ever had. I’m a work-from-home mama for the sole reason that I want to grab every minute that I possibly can with my little lad while he’s growing up. I never actually realised I’d love “mummying” as much as I do.
But, still, sometimes it’s just nice to feel like the old you.
You know, the one who loved a night out on the tiles with the girls. That danced at football matches in hotpants. That wore lipstick and eyeliner with matching flicks. That had opinions on stuff other than potty training and Peter Rabbit.
I didn’t realise how much I’d missed me, until I randomly decided to start a pole dancing class the other evening (at OMG! Pole Fitness, in Rayleigh for those interested!) I danced (ballet, tap, jazz – all the usual) for years. And while I didn’t fancy going back to something I knew I’d be a hell of lot worse at, I did fancy doing something fun and that would have some fitness value.
And as I (kind of) spun around a pole and giggled, I suddenly rediscovered a bit of the me I once was. And it turns out I’ve rather missed me. Who knew pole dancing could be so very good for your soul?