Sophie McCartney - Tired and Tested: The Wild Ride into Parenthood

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First published by HarperNorth in 2022

FIRST EDITION

Copyright Sophie McCartney 2022

Cover layout design Holly Ovenden 2022

Cover images Emma Phillipson 2022

Text images 13 authors own archive

Sophie McCartney asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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Source ISBN: 9780008475291

Ebook Edition February 2022 ISBN: 9780008475307

Version: 2022-02-01

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For Jack & Evelyn,

Thank you for affording me two of lifes greatest privileges: becoming a Mummy and being able to legitimately use a parent & child parking space.

Welcome to the Jungle

Theres something Ive recently come to realise about parenthood, and that is you will never be ready. Much like the arrival into adulthood, no entrance exam is required, no instruction manual distributed, and theres absolutely no way of knowing if youre doing it properly.

The responsibility takes even the most mentally prepared by surprise, sneaking up from behind like a ravenous predator intent on devouring your freedom, figure, finances, and faff. One minute youre young, carefree, and busting shapes on a dance floor. Then, in the blink of an eye, youre mid-thirties, unable to remember your name but able to recite The Gruffalo as though its the Lords Prayer, and crying over a busted pelvic floor. The journey from perky tits to killing nits has well and truly begun.

How did you get here and, more importantly, where did you go? Although technically an adult, because Ive trained myself to eat olives, most days I feel more like an out-of-depth teen trapped in the slightly saggy skin-suit of a 37-year-old tired and tested mother of two. An invisible bearer of snacks, who sidelines as a living napkin, the new life Ive found myself living resembles nothing of what came before. My evolution from non-maternal to humumkind is an excellent example of Expectation vs Reality: life is not as initially anticipated. I have no idea what Im doing, if the five-second rule applies to houmous or whether my questionable parenting techniques will produce well-rounded individuals or future serial killers. One thing I know for sure is that, like most parentfolk, I 100 per cent have NOT got this unless, of course, were referring to parasitic organisms.

If youve picked up this book hoping for parenting advice, toilet-training tips and homework hacks, you may be sorely disappointed just like the visitors to Center Parcs Subtropical Swimming Paradise after my child shat in the wave pool. Think of this more as a safe space of collective fuck-ups, life lessons, and discoveries thatll hopefully make you feel a tiny bit better about your own abilities or life choices.

Whether youre pre-kids, in the eye of the baby storm or would rather choose pets over people, even the thought of responsibility for another living being can be mind-bending. When it comes to entering into the terrifying thought process of making and raising humans, if you didnt laugh, youd cry while rocking in a corner and questioning whether the brown stuff under your fingernail is Play-Doh, or something left over from a traumatising family staycation. Its an adventure, and one many of us wouldnt swap for the world (but definitely for half an hour), so sit back, grab a lukewarm cup of coffee, strap yourself in and join me as we head off on the wild ride into parenthood

there was nothing. No stretch marks, no saggy boobs that flap like a spaniels ears on a windy day, and no prior knowledge of the pressure a perineal massage can put not only on a rectum but on a marriage.

To set out my stall and truly take you on my personal voyage into the occasionally overwhelming realm of adulthood, first we need to go on a Bill & Teds Excellent Adventure back in time to when low-rise jeans are responsible for a high rise in fanny flashing, and 90 per cent of the female population has FINALLY grown out the shortest layers of their Rachel cut.

Welcome to the glory decade of the noughties! The year 2002 BC (Before Children) to be precise a golden era of over-plucked eyebrows, jaunty trucker hats, and puking WKD Blue all over your mum Exorcist-style while pretending to have food poisoning. Things are simple here face fillers are just what you get if you give the wrong person a dirty look in your local Wetherspoons; were yet to question the size of our arses or lips; and the dark, shapeshifting art of contouring is yet to be discovered. Its not that appearance isnt important in the stone-washed age of Juicy Tubes I mean, if your white frosted eyeshadow doesnt shimmer like a frozen dog shit on a winters morning, and you dont have upwards of seven belts attached to a minuscule denim miniskirt, are you even a real Cosmo girl? Its the calm before the selfie/social media storm and thanks to cameras and phones still being two separate and brick-like entities, there will sadly be very little future evidence of how well we slay these iconic looks. An utter travesty.

In this brave new post-Spice Girls world, 18-year-old me is spotty, unworldly, awkward, and semi-convinced that if I could just get myself to LA then I might still stand a chance with Leonardo DiCaprio. Its a great age, though, isnt it? Absolutely brimming with giddy anticipation, beautiful yet dangerous naivety, and a truly terrifying misguided sense of invincibility. Nothings going to get me, bitches I survived platform trainers and Sun In! Up until this point, Ive spent most of my life in Liverpool a city famous for history, football, and arguably the greatest musical talent of our time Atomic Kitten. But times are a-changing for this not overly academic, all-girls Church of England high-school leaver. With a set of A level results reading like a glamour models bra size, Im flying the nest and heading north of the wall to the jewel in Yorkshires crown: Leeds. Here, I plan to drink all the brightly coloured alcopops my gag reflex can handle and blow my student loan on irresponsible non-curricular activities. Oh, and study Public Relations not Pubic Relations as my dad initially feared (but which is totally top of the extra credit priority list).