Balls. By gosh have I grown a set since having kids! If you’re not sure whether you’ve got some, have a good rummage around in your giant Mum bag, they’ll definitely be jangling around in there somewhere, like the elusive set of keys. Every Mum has a pair, and every Mum knows how to use them.
After having my first baby, I felt superhuman. I had just created a life, damn it! Even though I didn’t technically do it alone. Even after my husband’s unwavering support and patience. Even after he did the whole Lion King thing – every man’s right of passage into fatherhood.
Even then, I knew that it was really my balls that had carried me through three loooong trimesters and the agonising exhaustion of childbirth to the finish line.
Afterwards, I remember my husband saying ‘Wow! I didn’t think you were gonna get through that!’ Eh?! What else did he think would happen?? I wasn’t going to rub my belly and hope the baby would magically appear! There was no easy way out. So I felt pretty damn impressed with myself for getting from nugget to newborn. And with that, I grew more confident. I had to. Because now I was responsible for another life. It wasn’t just me, my clothes and I anymore. I got ballsy…
Then when baby number two dropped, so did my fully fledged set of Mummy nuts!
I was all over this shit. Not one, but two perfect creations! I knew that if anyone tried to harm one of my girls I would tear them to pieces. I would lift a burning car to save them, cut off my own limbs. I don’t know what situation would necessitate any of this to happen, but I’d do it!
I would protect these tiny humans I’d made with the strength of any man!
My eldest girl likes to regularly rank the power in our house. It goes Daddy – Big Boss. Her – Little Boss. Little sister – Baby Boss. I don’t get a mention. I don’t need one. Chuck Norris doesn’t need to state the fact that he’s the boss….
Testicles? Try CHESTICLES baby!
‘Cos I can break out of any padded play hell in under 2 minutes! I can McGyver a nappy out of a toilet roll and two hair bobbins. I can clean an entire child with just one baby wipe. My left bicep is freakishly larger than my right ‘cos I lift two children with it! No more am I afraid to return a top to Penney’s without a valid receipt. No more do I let old ladies push in front of me in queues. No little boy racer cuts me up in traffic and gets away without an icy stare! (Yeah you know that look son, it’s the same one your Mammy gives you!!)
Now in saying all that, would I send my food back in a restaurant? Jesus no! I am Irish after all…