A Potato and getting lucky!

The Potato

I wrote this post 3/4 years ago when my boys were both babies πŸ‘Ά πŸ‘Άβ€οΈβ€οΈ but the memories are still strong and the message still rings true most days.

I wasn’t sure why everyone was smiling so much at Middlest as I pushed him around the supermarket. Obviously I think he is cute, but people seemed instantly taken with him.

Having thrown a mac over an already brave outfit choice, I wondered if I was getting sympathy smiles. I was really working the bedraggled look inside and out.

It was one of those, get out and get him to sleep before he meltdowns, rush exits. Although somehow I’d ended up in the supermarket with him still awake πŸ˜¬πŸ€¦πŸ»β€β™€οΈ.

As it turned out I had forgotten that I had handed him a potato in the veg aisle. He was strangely fascinated by it and sat contentedly cuddling it.  It was like he had never come so close to a vegetable before πŸ˜‚.

This newfound (and short-lived) potato love lasted for nearly the whole shopping trip. Unfortunately the potato ultimately came to a sad end, but I’ll gloss over that bit if that is okay.

Where are you going with this love?

Since having kids I have often thought about how different you and your life must look over the course of any given day.

Young children swing so easily and readily from highs to lows. Sometimes my day seems to be in tatters, just moments after we’ve all been walking on sunshine and vice versa.

Anyway that day, I treated myself. I walked like a woman who had it all sorted. Who knew when to hand her son a potato. Someone who definitely didn’t pay the same child to get into the same buggy just ten minutes ago. Hell no.

And it certainly wasn’t me who only yesterday had a very similar looking child, in a very similar looking supermarket, climb out of a very similar looking buggy, covered in snot screaming “put my bogies back in” after I wiped his nose.

I tried not to let on that I couldn’t believe my luck. Potato love? Who knew?! πŸ₯” πŸ’– πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

So, that day I got lucky. I also promised myself that the next time I felt a bit crappy, looking at a serene family scene (while mine shout “I want to bite all grownups”) I’d try not to feel too jealous or worse, inadequate.

After all, who knows what was happening ten minutes ago.

Still not sure where you’re going with this….

This post is about reveling in your potato moments. Whilst viewing other people’s potato moments, safe in the knowledge that parenting is hard for everyone. Nobody has got hold of their potato all the time.

My hope is that everyone feels like they’ve found their potato sometimes*. Thankfully loads of people are very good at sharing when they are without their spud, which can be so comforting when you’re feeling alone or low. A ball which started rolling with the @unmumsymum and only ever gained momentum. In many ways it feels like the world is opening up πŸ’–πŸ’–πŸ’–.

I love seeing pictures of people, their children and their potatoes! Sometimes the moments looking for the spud are best forgotten!!! And sometimes (thankfully!) easily forgotten; lucky are those who brains naturally and regularly focus on the positive, happy memories.

Focusing on the positives, with a confidence that we all have rubbishy bits is my main aim. But it can be so hard to do.

I could talk about this all day but you’ve probably all gone now, so I’ll wrap it up….just before I go…

Enjoy your potato moments and be kind to yourself when it rolls out of reach in the beauty aisle, never to be seen again πŸ˜¬πŸ€¦πŸ»β€β™€οΈ. And remember you’re not alone, some people only post potato pictures (and that’s fine too).

*I know this whole thing is a bit surreal but if it does feel like potato moments are too few and far between right now, reach out, talk and ask for help.

The NHS references support linked here and here. The Mummy Social App provides a clever way of meeting mums in your area; sometimes meeting others in the same boat is the biggest help of all.

If you know of any good sources of advice please contact me so that I can add them in.

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