New(ish) mum Samantha Dooey-Miles is charting her life in doodles. This week, she fesses up to being the jealous type.

Men, the literature about you becoming first-time dads gives you quite the raw deal. I mean, it’s still not as harsh as having to confront that a whole human will come out of your special sex place, but still.

In basically everything you read about having your first child, men are portrayed as pathetic beings who will be jealous of a baby and the attention that’s required to keep one happy and alive.

Over the course of nine months of pregnancy I read hundreds of examples of how to make sure my poor husband wouldn’t feel left out and lonely when his own child arrived.

Precious little was written about how I would feel like my whole world had exploded, the bits of my old life still present but scattered in an unusual formation I’d be regularly concerned I didn’t like. After the explosion my husband never did get jealous of our daughter. Surprise! I did.

I’m Scottish (I’m sure you’ve worked that out by the accent) and live in Essex. FaceTime is now a major part of my relationship with my parents. I’ve lived down this way for eight years and my mum wanting to see my face when she spoke to me only became a thing once I was a mum. I assumed this was to keep a check on how I was doing as much as it was to see Iona.

doodlebugOn the days we’d arranged to talk I would make sure my hair and makeup was done and the area of the living room I was perched in looked tidy enough not to ring alarm bells about my mental state.

I needn’t have bothered. Now I’ve learned to angle the screen to my daughter straight away. It wouldn’t matter if I was nude and swigging from a bottle of vodka in the brief seconds my mum sees me; she wouldn’t notice as long as Iona is happy.

When we are physically in the same place, my mother nabs my daughter, calling her ‘my baby’. Iona starts picking my mum over me, already understanding the nuanced game of grandparents versus parents and the rewards it can reap (right now it’s toast and jam, in a few years it’s going to be mountains of sweets).

The real kicker is when Mum tells her she’s ‘the best girl’. No, that’s me, Mum! I’M THE BEST GIRL.

See Samanthas previous doodles here.


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Written by Samantha Dooey-Miles

Sam is a first-time mum doodling and blogging her way through teething, nappies and the constant struggle of never quite being sure whether she lives in Essex or London. Find her blog at anewessexgirl.com.