Striking the right work, life, baby balance isn’t as easy it looks for a new mum.

The prospect of nine months of maternity leave appears so appealing upon announcing that one is twelve weeks pregnant... and the announcement is invariably received with jealous jeers about swapping places.

First time mums have Hello magazine-esque visions of their immaculately-turned out family sporting crisply ironed clothes, not a dash of baby-sick in sight.

First time fathers envisage returning home from work each evening to the smell of freshly cooked bread, cakes, a plate of meat and two veg and, of course, their perfectly perfumed, made-up, and coiffured 1950s housewife (or at least it would appear that my husband did).

The reality, however, is quite different.

Nine months of maternity leave is increasingly often a distant dream to many mums who, due to career and financial pressures, find themselves returning to the workplace often after a matter of weeks.

Between lack of income, lack of time, and lack of choice on the nursing-wear fashion front, new mums often struggle with their wardrobe and, as for hair and make-up are concerned, the well versed phrase “If I manage to get us out of the house before 10am I’m proud of myself” springs to mind.

The Nigella Lawsons of this world manage to fulfil the cooking/baking criteria but then Nigella herself was getting all kinds of help from elsewhere, little of which was particularly helpful as it turns out!

So, if we are to keep track of our credit-cards and keep social services at bay perhaps we nip to the bakery, invest in some “country kitchen” scented room spray and dim the lights when the other half returns home.

As for trying to fit in “me time” when one’s struggling to carve out the time to pluck an eyebrow, shave a shin, or trim a toe-nail; well, that ain’t easy.

But fortunately for those living in Oxford, it’s far from impossible, and it is very important.

While incubating Sproglette I read, and passed around, French Parents Don’t Give In by Pamela Druckerman, author of French Children Don’t Throw Food.

A friend recently reminded me of the Motherhood – Cherchez la Femme chapter in which Druckerman talks about how even the most devoted maman strives to set aside energy and passion to being a wife, a worker, and a mother, because if she doesn’t everyone suffers.

Granted, I’m not the party girl I once was (yet) but, as the mum of a wee one, I’ve discovered various ways of weaving a bit of life balance back into the week in an attempt to achieve (and importantly maintain) this sacred équilibre.

During pregnancy I frequented St Albans Hall on Charles Street in East Oxford where Sara from Hands on Family Health runs a Pregnancy Yoga class – it was bliss.

Terrified of my morphing shape Sara enabled me to reconnect with my body, and feel strong and confident in its abilities... and it sounds as though she does the same through her post-natal yoga class, which she describes as enabling mums to “help regain their vitality, relieve aches and pains, feel calmer and more energized”.

I’ll have a double shot, with a chaser please.

Oh, and somehow, magically, Sara’s serenity enables babies to watch and join in too.

Women’s Outdoor Fitness in parks across Oxford is equally inspired.

The lovely Anne is encouraging, yet challenging, and unbelievably good at keeping babies entertained as she puts mums through their paces with a safe circuit training regime in the fresh air.

In other news, my partner’s had to pencil regular babysitting duties into his diary as I’m taking up fire poi and pottery... because I fancy it!

And as soon as Sproglette’s fully signed up to solids I may well retrain as a sommelier, until then I shall continue to sip responsibly. Sigh.

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