I distinctly remember sitting on the lounge trying to breast feed Henry on day 4 (felt like day 24) home from the hospital, crying my eyes out wondering how something that everyone says is so wonderful could possibly be so hard. My gut looked like i had just stepped out of the ‘supersize me’ mini series, my hair hadn’t been washed since i excitedly blowdried it in preparation for labour almost a week ago (what a waste that was), there was breast milk on the walls (you would not believe the distance that stuff can go), and my nipples felt like someone had literally rubbed sandpaper on them for eight hours straight and then set them on fire. I also remember, that everyones answer to all my questions, worries and complaints was “don’t worry, it gets easier”. Henry is now fifteen months old (ok, ok almost one and a half) – and last week he shit on my arm. So, I’m starting to get suspicious that it doesn’t ever get easier, what actually happens is that by the time they turn one, we are so tired, defeated and hairy, that we have become desensitised to things like shit on our arms, and our brains are tricked into thinking the storm has calmed. Things that most humans would find totally unmanageable (and in some cases, revolting) become normal, and things that were normal before, like having time to shave both legs in the same shower are now unheard of. So here’s my advice to new mums for what it’s worth – don’t freak out when time goes on and you haven’t found that miraculous “easier” window yet. Sure, the kinds of challenges that come with each age are going to evolve – but even though you might not be walking around in spanx and a vomit stained shirt any more, let me tell you – trying to make a one year old eat their broccoli before their sausage will make you seriously re evaluate how bad the vomit really was.