The Circuit-Breaker Every Mum Needs

Hi Subscriber First Name

On Monday morning, I broke down in tears in my local park.

I'd had a brutal start to the day. I had to call preschool to tell them that all three of my boys were too ill to come in.

Then, as I stood there – exhausted, pram parked – a runner shot past and snapped, “Jesus…get out the **** way.” It was so unexpected, so angry, I just stared. Then, as she ran off, I burst into tears.

Honestly, I was probably already at my limit. Day 12 of Sapovirus. The endless nappies, laundry, fights. The weight of it all.

Mums don’t get to discharge stress.

Our circuits are overloaded. We move from crisis to crisis, fight-or-flight mode always on. No reset, no pause – just the next fire to put out.

By the time I finally got a breather at nap time, I was shaking. The runner. The hypo my diabetic husband had in the park. The screaming triplets who refused to get back in the pram. Keeping Frankie entertained in the doctor’s waiting room for an hour when his appointment was delayed. By 1:30 p.m., I was DONE.

I had so much I wanted to do that day. I managed a few calls (with screaming triplets in the background), but I knew I couldn’t just push through. I needed my circuit-breaker. The same one I created after last year’s hospital trip when Rafa squirted antibacterial cleaner directly into his brother’s face. (Remember?)

It’s called MBA – and it works.

M: Music. I played a Kirtan (a sung mantra meditation) for 11 minutes. My energy shifted.
B: Breathing. My breathing was shallow and panicked. I stopped and slowed it down. (Sod the to-do list.)
A: Acknowledgment. I admitted my mental health wasn't good. That I needed to do something, or this feeling would drag me under all day.

So next time your mama circuit board is fried, give MBA a go. It might be the reset you need.

I’ve had an idea…

A woman walked into the steam room the other day, wearing an electric blue swimsuit that had “Miami” written across the front in a Baywatch-style font.

I briefly considered Fuck Mum Guilt swimwear, but decided T-shirts and hoodies would be more practical.

So, I’ll shortly be launching a pop-up shop. I’ll also give some out in the community (keep an eye out in the Facebook group). But my grand plan is to send them to high profile mums and get them to wear them and post about their experiences of mum guilt in the run up to Mother’s Day.

It’s a wildly ambitious plan, but this Mother’s Day, we don’t need flowers, we need to lift the taboo around mum guilt.

Throw your suggestions at me: MPs, female founders, mental health figures, celebs, podcast hosts, anyone inspirational…

Much love 🙏🏽

Leila (and the still-ill-triplets) xxx