NO KIDDING
Lily Allen is right…having kids ruined my life too – they left me saggy, sexless & my husband earns 4 times what I do
Mums across the nation felt seen when Lily Allen dared to confess that having children 'ruined' her career
CAN women really have it all? The age-old question has plagued us ever since we stepped out of the home and into the workforce.
It is impossible to juggle being a good mum with having a successful career, according to singer and actress Lily Allen, 38.
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Writer Nadia Cohen, from Balham, South West London, agrees, admitting she once felt so frazzled, she would happily have been jailed just to get some rest.
Here, Nadia, 50, reveals why Lily’s comments hit home for her – and so many other mums, too.
MUMS across the nation felt seen when Lily Allen dared to confess that having children “ruined” her career.
While her two kids “complete” her, she said, they also managed to derail her day job as an international pop star.
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Many people appeared horrified, but I am absolutely certain I was not the only woman nodding in enthusiastic agreement.
Lily, who has daughters Ethel, 12, and Marnie, 11, with her ex-husband Sam Cooper, said: “My children ruined my career.
“I love them and they complete me, but in terms of pop stardom, they totally ruined it.
“I get really annoyed when people say you can have it all because, quite frankly, you can’t.”
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I have certainly had similar feelings about my own kids and how motherhood led to the loss of my identity.
Saggy and broken
I adore my 15-year-old twin sons. They are funny and cool and I have no regrets.
But they did change my life, and my career, and not necessarily for the better.
In fact, I reckon if I hadn’t had them, I would be earning three times what I am now — backed up by evidence from The Fawcett Society’s report Parenthood: Uplifting New Mothers At Work.
The report, which surveyed 3,000 working mums, found around a third had no support when returning to work.
And the number increased to 38 per cent for those who took more than 13 weeks maternity leave or earned less than £20,000 annually.
Had I not become a mum, I can imagine what I would have spent all that extra cash on.
A skiing holiday comes to mind and my kryptonite, designer shoes.
Instead, I wear scruffy trainers, my jeans are a decade old and we holiday in the UK — this year it’s Cornwall. When you have young kids, lack of sleep is the killer.
But there are also many more of life’s simple joys that go out the window, like sunbathing, eating in nice restaurants and, of course, having sex — time in bed is too precious to waste.
I can remember living something of the high life pre-kids. When my husband Dan and I met in New York 20 years ago we both had demanding jobs that we loved, and we were on exactly the same salaries.
Back in London, Dan, now 51, was working as an IT project manager and I was a features writer for a national newspaper.
We could wallow in the inevitable Sunday morning hangovers, with nothing to do but watch trashy telly and eat bacon sandwiches
We had plenty of spare cash for long-haul flights, luxury holidays, cocktails and takeaways.
We had two cars, and our weekends were spent at trendy bars and glamorous restaurants.
Afterwards, we could wallow in the inevitable Sunday morning hangovers, with nothing to do but watch trashy telly and eat bacon sandwiches.
Not long after our wedding in 2006, we were both made redundant, and with generous severance packages and weeks of enforced gardening leave, we decided to spend time travelling.
“We may never have this chance again,” we joked, without realising how accurate that prediction would turn out to be.
During our action-packed road trip across America, I got pregnant with twins.
We were both thrilled, kids had always been part of our plan.
We returned to the UK, and Dan to a new job.
But the boys arrived prematurely and I was stuck in hospital for a month, while Dan took a couple of weeks off work. Even when we eventually brought them home, the boys were so tiny that they had trouble feeding.
I was completely useless
They never seemed to sleep at the same time, so despite numerous attempts to get back to normal working hours, I simply could not manage it.
Every part of my body ached, even washing my hair felt like a monumental task.
But after six months of maternity leave, we hired a nanny and I swapped my stained leggings for sharp suits.
Childbirth and breastfeeding had taken its toll, though.
My body had drastically changed shape and I struggled to remember how I had ever managed to run around in 3in heels day and night.
I breastfed the twins and it certainly had an impact.
I was a size 10 when I got pregnant and went up to a 14 afterwards — and was left saggy and broken.
It took years to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight. I would have certainly been fitter and slimmer now had I not had kids.
At first, when I went back to work, I was happy to be back among grown-ups, and to finish a coffee before it went cold.
But there was no denying the fact I was completely useless in the office.
For a start, I was utterly exhausted all the time. Having to deal with stinky nappies and messy feeds before battling with the rush hour was draining.
It was difficult for me to travel at short notice and, generally, I stopped being an asset to the team because other people often had to pick up the slack and finish tasks for me.
I desperately wanted the whole week off for the kids’ first Christmas, and I could feel childless women bristling at the unfairness of my request.
Unlike Lily Allen, who found a new creative outlet by switching from singing to acting, I struggled to work out how to juggle it all.
I decided to go freelance, but it is a cut-throat business, and you still need to show your face on a regular basis, even if you work from home most of the time.
I fantasised about committing a minor crime that might result in a short spell in prison
Meanwhile, my husband’s career continued to thrive, and with countless promotions and bonuses, he was soon earning three or four times the amount I could scrape together. Our house in South London needed a new kitchen, but without a dual income our finances were stretched.
I had been so excited about motherhood, but quickly realised that being entirely responsible for two small humans — who cannot feed themselves or go to the toilet without constant supervision — is pretty grim in many ways.
Firstly, it is boring. There, I said it. Sitting cross-legged on the floor pretending to struggle with giant wooden jigsaw pieces is not my idea of fun — and it never will be.
I resented switching my zippy sports car for an ugly people carrier. And spooning puréed vegetables into a toddler’s mouth who is mid-tantrum is exhausting and messy.
Worse still, nobody ever seems to admit that this drastic change of life is so draining and depressing. I found myself surrounded by armies of uber-competitive yummy mummies sharing endless images of their “wonderful, adorable, perfect” little bundles of joy and spouting about how rewarding it was being a mama.
I fantasised about committing a minor crime that might result in a short spell in prison, or breaking my leg so I’d be admitted to hospital — just so I could sleep in unbroken peace.
Now the children are teenagers, some things have definitely improved.
Those longed-for lie-ins are back.
But the boys are still emotionally needy in complicated ways.
The hormonal outbursts that come with puberty often feel almost impossible to navigate.
I know from conversations with friends that many, many women feel exactly the same way as me.
But still, I don’t regret my brilliant boys.
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I love hanging out with them and it is a privilege to raise them.
I just wish someone had told me how hard motherhood really is.
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