A is for alcohol – remember that stuff?
You’re now a lightweight, so one glass is enough.
B is for birth plans that don’t manifest,
And ridiculous battles over bottle or breast.
C is for Calpol – you’ll raid all the shelves,
For teething and fevers and everything else.
D is for dignity, rapidly lost,
The first time the midwife said ‘bottom half off’.
E is for energy – mostly caffeine,
From own-brand tea to coffee bean.
F is for friends who rally around,
When your last scrap of sanity cannot be found.
G is for Googling every new rash –
Each one a potential hospital dash.
H is for homes – that’s Under The Hammer,
Daytime TV fills your media planner.
I is for iPhones that glow in the dark,
A bit of relief when you’re up with the lark.
J is for jumpers, knitted by nans,
And huge Jumperoos that free up your hands.
K is for kettle – it’s constantly on,
Yet somehow your drinks are always lukewarm.
L is for loneliness, silent it creeps,
When your one source of company can’t even speak.
M is for mums you meet on the way,
Some friends for life, some drift away.
N is for nappy rash, five-minute naps,
And huge nursing bras with big chunky straps.
O is for opening all of your post,
Wondering which bill will hurt the most.
P is for playdates with everyone round,
The toys all come out and you can’t see the ground.
Q is for questioning every last thing,
Maybe I should give NHS Direct a ring?
R is for rice cakes, raisins and rusks,
Annabel Karmel books gathering dust.
S is for showers that last sixty seconds,
After which point the little one beckons.
T is for tantrums, triumphs and tears,
Most of them saved for the toddler years.
U is for uterus and all of those words,
Last heard in a classroom back in the ‘burbs.
V is for victory the first time you know,
Where the bits on this bl**dy new car seat should go.
W is for weaning – purees and lumps,
Washing and drying (ironing’s for chumps).
X is for xylophone – you’ll have at least three,
Though nobody knows where the drumsticks could be.
Y is for yawning, a tiredness that hurts,
And yoghurts that end up all over your shirt.
Z is for zees – that’s sleep, you know,
Remember that feeling? Of course not, no.
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