dead
A friend of mine (who we’ll call Ben who also calls me Ben) often calls my phone, usually texting is easier when you are a parent but sometimes just sometimes a call is necessary, but phone calls make me feel weird. Phone anxiety.

Our phone calls often go down something like this:
“Hi Ben”
“Hi Ben”
“Hi”
“Is your day better today Ben?”
“Yeah it is, shits not so bad today, the spawns have been nicer”

Mid conversation something like this will go down (while Ben waits patiently on the line):
Get off me, for christ sake I’m talking get off of me, NO you can’t have food, you just ate, why are you doing that, stop fighting, for fucks sake I’M ON THE PHONE.

“Sorry about that Ben”
“Don’t worry about it Ben”
“Your life is like The Walking Dead” she says.

I realise she’s right.

You know when in AMC’s The Walking Dead (sorry I had to put the AMC part in there because that’s how I say it in my head) and the group come to this awesome looking place that you think ‘oh maybe they can be happy here’.  It’s nice, everyone relaxes a little, you can put your shank down and they set up this zombieless life where they live happily for like 5 minutes. Then while sitting there watching your logic sets in and you’re all like, well don’t be fucking stupid what would the show be about if the zombies never got in and they all lived happily ever after? Then Rick would have to stop being a badass, then it’s just an episode of the Bold and the Beautiful. No one wants to watch that crap. Except for my mum.
But the zombies, they always come.
They smell, like children do, they’re dirty as fuck like children, they break down the walls of this sweet home you have made yourself like children do, they break down the fences and they still find you like children, they find you wherever you are because they smell you out, they smell the life and they want to swallow it whole, they want your heart, they want to aimlessly devour everything about you till all that’s left is a leg or a foot just like children do.

You have just realised they’re quiet so you sneak off, you hide but through the gaps of the cupboards and the door you have boarded yourself behind there’s these little fingers grabbing at you, their hands are dripping with mucous and there’s dribble, maybe some decaying flesh and the faint scent of something dead coming through the door. You cant tell if that’s a zombie or a 4 year old trying to attack you while you sit gracefully on the toilet yelling “I just want to shit in peace, for fuck sake just let me poo!”

Later you’re asleep, it’s eerily quiet and the fences have been put back up, so everyone is resting in peace at last. Then you hear it, your heart skips a beat and you sit up thinking  “No, god no, not again” . Then you hear the screams, the wails and you panic because you just fell asleep finally after the chaos of the day where one of your group died in the malicious battle with a child like Zombie that sucked the soul from your friend in a mega Tanty in the shops earlier. You hear the wail again and slowly get up clutching a knife/drink bottle, you walk into the bedroom and find a child/zombie crying because he wet the bed, or ate his sister, you can’t be sure because it’s dark and wet but there’s the smell of piss/blood filling the air, you put a towel down to mop up the blood/piss and sneak back to your bed.

Randomly just now my 4 year old is walking around the room groaning and walked up to me and said “rarrrr gurrrrrrr I’m a zombie, gotcha I’m not, I’m just tricking ya”. No one but my Ben and I knew I was writing a  blog about Zombies. NO word of a lie.

Motherhood is all piss, poo, blood, sneaking, fear, death and life of souls. It’s hiding, it’s constant ups and downs. It’s finding a safe place, a quiet place to rest but then being invaded at inconvenient times, it’s screaming bloody murder, it’s thinking you won’t survive but when you do you know it only gives you the power to keep on going.

Motherhood is an episode of The Walking Dead.

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