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Balance is bullsh*t.

Fat Mum Slim /

As I write this blog post, I’m sitting on the edge of my bed as my daughter showers in the ensuite a metre from me, and dinner is cooking in the oven. I have 3567 emails unread in my inbox, 61 unread text messages on my phone and an array of unpaid bills stuck to my fridge. My wardrobe has swiftly turned into a floordrobe, and I’m not even sure what’s happening to my hair. I shared a selfie a few days ago and someone commented, “You’re rocking the mum bun!” and I didn’t know if it was a compliment or a cheeky pay out.

I’m pretty much a hot mess.

Since becoming a mum I’ve been in some constant state of ‘mess’. Some days are better than others, but for the most part it’s always some level of absolute imperfection. I’m kinda OK with that. Imperfection is the new black, no?

For a long time, especially the last five years, I’ve attempted to master life. From the outside it seems that so many others have done it and are doing it. On Instagram it appears that they’ve got immaculate houses, alphabetically organised pantries, folded laundry, clever, well-adjusted children, and careers to boot. I’m over here drowning in laundry and have only ironed once in the past five years.

I haven’t even been aiming for perfection, I’ve been working towards some kind of balance. It’s this precarious act of trying to make things work. I have my own business, which is so complex and multi-faceted, and probably needs more than one person {me!} on board, and I have kids that I want to be with as much as possible, a lovely husband that likes a bit of attention now and then, a house that needs caring for, a dog that needs walking, family that needs loving, friends that need texting {I am positively BAD at that} and then there’s my own self too. It’s a balancing act.

And how I’ve tried to balance it all. I have tried. Please don’t think for a moment that I think I have any more than any normal person. All I know is what is on my plate. I have tried to balance that plate. Some weeks work wins, and I’m a positively crappy parent. Other weeks I’m sure my husband wonders who he married. And then some weeks I feel like I’m almost getting on top of work, and that’s a really great feeling. Fleeting, but awesome.

I’ve learned though, that when it comes to life, there really is no such thing as balance. Balance is bullshit. I’ve tried and I can’t make it happen. Something always has to give. If I’m winning at mum life, then I’m telling you… something else is failing. Miserably.

Aiming for balance isn’t a healthy thing, for me anyway. It puts unnecessary pressure on myself to achieve something that’s a little bit unattainable. And, hopefully without sounding too obnoxious, balance probably isn’t a destination anyway, but more a journey. It’s always going to be an ongoing balancing act, a battle more than balance if you will.

Instead of balance I aim for something else; more imperfection. I lower my standards a little, I accept help when I can {and getting a cleaner in definitely helps!} and let some stuff go. Hopefully my friends will understand in the meantime, and patiently await my return texts… even if they do take months.

Because, say it with me, balance is bullshit. It really is.