Taking The Hipster Line To Hoxtonย 

I’m on the way to Hoxton (meeting #3) and I’ve got to say, the Overground (or Hipster Line as I call it) is one of- if not the best train to travel with a pram on.

When it’s not packed to the rafters with commuters it’s actually rather pleasant. Lots of space to enter/exit and nice big windows to see the world from.

Which mode of transport do you think is the most kiddie friendly? 

 

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Being A Student Mum ๐Ÿผ๐ŸŽ“

“Do anything nice over the summer? “

I gave birth during the summer of 2014: a week after I finished my final term of my first year at university. I returned 8 weeks later: the beginning of term 1, year 2. 
When I found out I was preggers in 2013 (just two months into my first year) I contemplated giving up. I’m already regarded a mature student, now I’m pregnant. How the actual fuck was I going to be a student and be a parent. There was no way. Abortion was never going to be an option; the only feasible choice was to quit school and start making money.  

Mr. T. 

One night I smashed away at my keyboard, scrawling a long email to Mr T, one of my lecturers. He seemed cool and we got on. I didn’t know who else to turn to. I got super emotional and by this point I had only known him a month. I pressed send and straight away felt the pangs of regret- “I’m going to look so stupid”. ๐Ÿ™Š

Opening the reply changed my life. “It will work itself out and we will be here to support you”. 

Fast forward two years and some change and my son is now 23 months, I am three months away from graduating and have just been promoted at work, in my first career-driven role. 

Brains not belly. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, rolling up to lectures pregnant was kind of embarrassing at first but my friends were really supportive and tbh I hid it well: I didn’t want to be given special treatment. I wanted to stand out for my brain not my belly. 

Being a student AND a mother is hard, harder than hard. All you want to do is sleep, but the only time you can actually complete work is when the baby sleeps so technically you just don’t sleep- at all. You’re unable to spend sufficient time on your assignments  and extensions become your BFF. However, it gives you this weird hulk-like motivation and strength to push through all the challenged juggling these two lifestyles bring. 
For me, it was about not stopping. One lecturer advised me to defer (take a 6 month break) and return effectively graduating 6 months after everyone else. There was no way. If I had slowed down, I would’ve not started up again. As baby turned two months old, I continued my studies and haven’t stopped to look back. 

Two jobs. One summer. 

In the summer of 2015 I worked two jobs- one to pay for childcare and the other to earn money to survive on. The second job I found after discovering there was no way I had enough from my first part-time job to cover the costs of childcare; I needed another income. I trawled Twitter and found a two-day PR job. Perfect. I began as an intern and 10 months later I am heading up the department. 

Accepting help.  

To be able to achieve as a student-parent you’ve got to allow yourself to be vulnerable. Before I needed help I cringed at talking to student support services or guidance counsellors. It all seemed a bit desperate. But I was. Sure, there are times when I want to quit, unable to focus on writing 2,500 word assignments, but I just think of where I want to be, will be and that this is temporary. Make use of all the help on offer at university. Start with a lecturer you trust and then with their support approach your student services: every university has one. Create a routine and do a little a day. If you’ve got a 1,500 word assignment due in, spend an hour writing your plan then over a week do 300 words a day once the baby is in bed. Planning is key to not losing your mind. 

A (nearly) happy ending.  

I don’t pretend to know it all but I know that in two months I’ll be graduating at Wembley Stadium. Only two years after writing that email to my lecturer about giving up whilst my 13-week old embryo floated inside me. It’s all been worth it; but it’s not over. I’m still 2,700 words into a 6,000 word final paper and there’s still two assignments to go… I’ll get there though… 

…and so will you. 
  

Looking Young and Being A Parent ๐Ÿ‘ถ

You have a child?!” 

What’s with the fascination of people that have teenage-looking faces being parents?

When this expression falls upon my ears (normally after someone finds out I’m a parent) their next comment isn’t “aww how old?” it’s “you’re so young!” or “oh that’s nice! Is the Dad around?”  Plot twist: “you’re so old!”. How’s that sound? Obviously totally unacceptable and what has my age got to do with the father being present? I’m confused.

From experience, looking young and being a parent feels like you’re automatically excluded (not on paper) from mummy clubs, GP’s seem to ask more personal questions about home/relationship life and much of the baby blogging advice columns seems somewhat not relatable (if someone can show me different I’ll happily read!).

I probably sound like I’m ranting but it’s not like I look underage. It’s just a bit odd to me. Someone at work found out I had a child and asked me loads of age-related questions. So I HAD to vent. Ugh. ๐Ÿ˜“

What obstacles have you come across having a “baby face” and being a parent? 

NO SH*T! Millennial Mum Turns To Social Media For Therapy.

  

26. First time mum. Third year student. Full time stressed. 
It’s 2013 and it’s my first year at a second stab at university and I discover I’m pregnant. Fast forward 23 months and I am now mother to a bundle of joy *said through gritted teeth* and trying to write my dissertation. It’s due next week and I’m screaming inside. 

I work part time in PR and Marketing and funnily enough those 16 hours are pure bliss for me, not necessarily because my perfect little man *through gritted teeth* is at nursery, but because it’s like therapy. Writing, creating, it brings me joy (lol, I sound like a bunch of fun). On that basis I decided to add to my millennial bow and start a baby (toddler?) blog. I hate mummy clubs (they look at you like you’re too young to have given birth) and fuck parenting books. This is real life. Internet life. 

So from now on, once The Prince has been guided to the Land of Nod, this will be my online confession. My pillow to cry in. The friend to laugh with. The place I can rant and write what the hell I want about parenting. It’s therapy. 

Students, mums, Millennials or not, grab a bean bag and get comfy. If only one of you read I’ll be glad. 

Party. Kettle on. JK I’m going back to writing my disso. 

x x x