So life hasn’t exactly panned out the way I’d envisaged. When people used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my standard response (after international Pop Star, obvs!), was that all I wanted was a family and a house with a swimming pool. Simples. Sadly, mother nature had other ideas [cue the get-the-violins-out bit]. Yes, she decided that my early 30s should be spent mainly lay down on a consultants table, being probed in places I’d rather not mention, resulting in 5 failed IVF cycles, 2 miscarriages and an embryo, affectionately called Blodwyn, with a terrible sense of direction who decided to take the scenic route up my fallopian tube resulting in a near death experience at a point in time where I was long overdue a waxing appointment #mortified! So it appears being responsible for another little human being is not in my destiny which kind of left me at a crossroads scratching my head. You see, I thought this little human being was going to be the answer to all my prayers, giving me that long awaited feeling of purpose*. But, no. It seems I’m going to have to own this shit myself, goddammit. I’m actually going to have to step out of my oh-so-safe comfort zone. Yikes! So, step one. My husband and I, in a moment of reckless abandon, sold our house and bought a place in Ibiza and I am starting the journey of a lifetime……the journey of self-discovery. Wish me luck!
* Please note, after reading far too many Mummy blogs & memes that pop up in my never-ending baby feed, I realise this was very misguided given I’d have been unlikely to even have had the time to pee in peace let alone figure out the meaning of life. So to all my fabulous Mummy friends – you are doing an awesome job holding that shit together & bringing up very special little people in the process.