A girl stands in her parents’ kitchen weighing wholemeal rice out to the point zero zero of a gram (how sad), with that post gym glow that is only achievable when you’ve had time to shower, apply some fake tan, neatly tie your wet hair up in a bun and change into *surprise* more gym clothes. That girl was me, and my god how that feels like an entirely different life all together.
One short year later I’m sitting in my half decorated living room, in an outfit made up of the clothes I picked from my “floordrobe”. The hoody I am wearing is decorated in patches of breast milk and baby vomit, my hair is a tatty mess folded up into a knot on top of my head and my partner just pointed out the dried orange juice around my mouth – you see where I’m going with this. Would you like to know more about my shitstorm of a morning? The house alarm went off because our electricity ran out, like a great flashing beacon alerting my entire street “LOOK AT HOW MUCH THIS NEW MUM HASN’T GOT HER SHIT TOGETHER”. I scrambled around the bomb-site that is my home, searching for the keys to unlock the door, screaming baby under one arm; overturning pillows, blankets, bibs and washing with the other. Failed mission – no keys… Clothes Mountain 1 – 0 Jordan. I was locked inside the house, so I accepted defeat and awaited Andy’s return. As if that wasn’t enough, the health visitor was due to call but of course the doorbell didn’t sound because the power was off, so I missed her (awful parenting at just 6 weeks in) – anyway, how was I going to invite her in? “oh hi there health care professional! Just pass your scales and bag through to me, and climb on in through my kitchen window.” This day has been a write off (and it’s not even 12pm), like so many other days since becoming a new mum.
This felt like the perfect day to start my new blog, because tonight after an extremely long time I’ll be returning to the gym. I can imagine “fit moms” chomping at the bit wondering why I ever stopped in the first place. Don’t get me wrong, I think its wonderful that society has recently changed and the idea of a pregnant woman continuing to work out and lift weights has become more widely accepted. However, pregnancy presented me with some new battles to manage and to be perfectly frank I lost my interest in lifting weights. During my pregnancy I opted for the odd swim, gone were the protein shakes and squats.
I’ve already accepted that as a new mum, my priorities have changed MASSIVELY! I find myself having nowhere near as much passion for exercising, a whole new agenda and a totally different outlook on body image and function, but, if a little bit of my pre baby motivation can make a return – even for an hour – while I sit on an exercise bike, I’ll be satisfied. Meanwhile, my exclusively breastfed baby will be hanging out in the cafe upstairs, watching the football with his dad and I’ll be on standby incase he decides it’s booby o’clock, and that’s ok because he is now my priority rather than a firm bum and visible abs.
So welcome to my blog! I can’t promise to have it all together, but I hope that as I use this space as an outlet, while I navigate through the scary mayhem that is motherhood, someone can laugh along at the “oh shit” moments with me and relate to my anecdotes and thoughts.