Holidays?

We have embarked on our first holiday abroad since becoming parents. The thing with being on holiday with a baby is that they neither know nor care that you’re on holiday. Holidays of old meant drinking excessively, laying about in the sun and reading, for hours on end. Our holiday now revolves around trying to keep a tiny dictator happy, and for vast amounts of time; he ain’t happy.

We have come to an apartment in Spain, my parents are lucky enough to be here for a month so we’re staying with them. The apartment is nice, but the decor theme seems to be ‘pointy and dangerous’, my parents have moved/hidden as much as they can to make a safer environment for their grandchild but there’s only so far they could go. William is highly skilled at finding something pointy and or dangerous and hurting himself on it. Shutting fingers into drawers is a firm favourite. This rules out completely sitting and relaxing. We need eyes on William at all times! It’s very warm he’s which is fantastic but it makes for one very crabby baby, he doesn’t like having sun cream applied and as he’s one there is no way to reason with him. Just a frequent battle to apply it to flailing arms and legs. William is ‘sleeping’ in a travel cot in our room, no reading in bed because we can’t turns the lights on, no talking in case we wake him up and no nookie in bed.

There are lots of new things for William to see and explore so often, he won’t nap. This makes him tired and SOME SORT OF DEMON CHILD. Yesterday he was vile. I nearly cried. Hubs and I wanted an evening together, it took hours to get a tired William to stop screaming and go to sleep. My parents urged us to just go but it wasn’t fair to leave them with him. When we finally got him down it took about an hour for me to unclench my teeth!

It’s not all doom and gloom, sometimes he is his usual womderful self. After a hot walk today we’ve kept him in our room with the air con on. He’s pulled all my (clean) knickers out of the drawer and ran round the bed laughing and waving them about. It’s not an activity I’ll encourage but it kept him occupied for a few minutes. He’s currently having a nap on  daddy, daddy is also unconscious. I’d like to join them in a family nap but I’ve got knickers to pick up…

In other news;

I’be become addicted to breadsticks

I need to to somehow teach a one year old it’s not appropriate to pull mummy’s dress up in public

Although Ive so far managed to escape a mosquito bite, my feet appear to victim of a midgey feeding frenzie.

 

 

Wills is turning one!

Well, one more sleep until our little boy turns a whole one! This time last year I was in hospital, being induced. It hadn’t started hurting yet and I was feeling pretty smug about the whole birth thing. (Fast forward a couple of hours, definitely not feeling smug, groaning like some sort of large mammal).

I’d always looked forward to feeling the first signs of labour and waking hubs up to tell him baby was on they way. Not sure why I convinced myself I’d go into labour in the night. As it happened I was told a day and time I’d be going into labour. I was so nervous in the morning, I started scrubbing all the doors, panicking and telling hubs we couldn’t possibly bring a baby back to such a filthy house! (It was immaculate.)

I’ve talked about the birth before, and shortly afterwards. So much has happened in his first year! He is walking now, experimenting with sounds, occasionally he shouts, it’s both unintelligible and adorable. When you have a baby people say ‘blink and you’ll miss it!’ How right they are! This year has flown by. There are already a million things I’d do differently if I could have him again, things I wish I had known, things I wish I hadn’t worried about. We’ve had the steepest learning curve of our lives, but the most exciting. We still stare at him in disbelief sometimes, we made him. Our perfect little boy. I’m watching him shovel strawberries into his mouth, he loves them, and I love the smell of him when he’s eaten. I love how he scrunches up his nose when he smiles, and how he smiles with his eyes, just like his daddy! I love how he holds his hands if he’s unsure about something, how he giggles when I sound out C-A-T. How he cocks his head to one side and rests it on my shoulder if he’s feeling shy. How when we’re in clothes shops he grabs hold of clothes and shakes them. How he devours toasted teacakes.

There are of course some things I’m not so keen on. Like his habit of crying when you tell him ‘no’.  The fact that he’s always finding and dragging my toothbrush across the bathroom floor. That he won’t stop eating the cat biscuits. That he likes to lick the cat. (Captain doesn’t seem bothered by this). He keeps pulling my top down in public. My food is no longer my own. He puts his sticky fingers all over me he has temper tantrums which involve screaming in my face whilst furiously smacking me.

Have I learnt much in this first year? Heaps. If I can save you some time, stop second guessing yourself and stand by your decisions. A lot of well meaning people will give you ‘advice’ you don’t have to take any of it.

I always thought I’d be a tad more emotional when William turned one. (Granted there’s still time) and I do feel like our baby is slipping away from us at an alarming speed, but I adore the little boy that’s replacing him. Every day he amazes us, and yes we’re tired, emotional and at times frustrated, but he’s been our world for a year. And what a wonderful year it has been.

In other news:

Baby-proofing has made our kitchen the most annoying room in the house.

We will be getting William his first proper pair of shoes next week.

I can no longer poo in peace.

 

Talk baby to me.

Baby talk. Some love it, some hate it. You’ll find most people have an opinion on it. I had opinions on it too, it then I had a baby and nothing makes you rethink your opinions like having a baby.

I’d never been one for baby talk. In fact I was decidedly awkward around babies, mostly because they ALWAYS cried around me. Some women from a young age are magnetically drawn to babies, and they’re good with then. I was never one of those women.

I went to a hen do a couple of weeks ago. It was the first time I’d left Wills for more than one evening. Although I was dreading being away from him in the run up, I had the most lovely time, and I didn’t miss him as much as I thought I would. (Enter mum guilt.) Some of the women there had said they absolutely do not do baby talk. And I have no problem with that, how other people talk to babies and children is not my business. I don’t feel there is a better way and if I did what makes what I think right? (I’m not always right. Although don’t tell hubs that…)

Anyway, through the miracle of FaceTime, I was able to see my little boy who was decidedly confused as to why mummy was now in the square thingy and not nanny. On the morning we were saying our goodbyes, my phone trilled signifying daddy was true to his word and keeping in touch. I pressed ‘accept’ and the small screen was filled with the face of my son. My beautiful baby. And my voice went high pitched ‘Good morning pookie! Have you been a good boy?!’ William is only 10 months old (well he was nine months when this happened) he doesn’t understand most of what I say, so it’s not what I say, it’s how I say it. He smiled at me and I felt an ache, I wanted to cuddle him, I wanted to hold him close and take in the scent of his hair. But I couldn’t so out poured torrents of baby talk, and his little face broke into a massive, adorable grin. And he clapped. ‘Yay! Who’s a clever boy?’

And that’s when I heard a friend say ‘What is it about babies that makes people talk like retards?’

Wow.

Not only is that far from politically correct, it was upsetting.

Not so long ago I probably would have cringed hearing myself. But I absolutely delight in William, I feel genuine excitement when I see him, sometimes that bursts out of me in the form of baby talk. Kind of like what seeing puppies does to people, gives them a warm fuzzy feeling that sends them into a mini meltdown. Was there any need to make such a comment? Is that the reason I’m now trying to justify how I speak to my child right now? Well I’m nipping that in the bud right now!

I talk baby talk. If you don’t like it that’s your problem, not mine.

In other news:

Wills is once again a little snot factory, he doesn’t seem bothered, he seems to enjoy licking it off his face.

We are off to a wedding on Saturday. I’m hoping to get a nice family photo before Wills gets filthy and daddy gets drunk.

Our garden continues to be the place all the cats get together in for a scrap.

Mum authority

Mum Authority is a term I’m pretty sure I’ve made up. And it’s something I didn’t feel I had until quite recently.

When we transported Wills home from the hospital it marked the beginning of us being in charge. Occasionally he’d cry (spoiler alert, that can happen a lot) when he cried, visitors would often ask me what was the matter with him. And I wouldn’t have a bloody clue. My standard response was usually, ‘I don’t know, I’ve only had him a week…’ and sometimes I’d feel bad. Does this make me a bad mum? Don’t mums usually know what’s wrong with their children, don’t they sense it? I didn’t  know him well enough to know if he was out of sorts. Does this mean we haven’t bonded, after all I was whipped away so soon after he was born to get my bits sewn back together.

The thing is, there are two things I’d like to point out: 1, when Wills was born he looked like a baby, not me or his dad, just a baby. He could have been anyone’s. Now he’s the spit of his dad, even the postman has told me so (‘must look like his dad because he looks nothing like you…’). And 2, he had no personality. People might think that’s a mean thing to say but how could he? He’d been floating around in a womb for nine months, he’d never experienced anything other than that.

I’d felt him move and he’d heard my voice but we’d never met until that hot afternoon in hospital. And yet here I am, expected to know everything about him. Fast forward nine months and he is rapidly becoming his own little person, and I have developed a ‘mum authority’ I know when he’s not quite right. What he does and doesn’t like, the reactions I’m going to get. And with this new knowledge of my son comes not the feeling that I particularly know best, but that what I say goes.

What I say goes.

I am rapidly building a dislike of him being tickled. A little is fine, but people go too far, do it for too long and I don’t like it. And if I don’t like it, guess what? It’s not happening.

He doesn’t want to kiss you goodbye? Guess what? He’s not kissing you goodbye, my son chooses who he kisses, not me.

If I say he’s had enough of something or I don’t want him to have something…. guess what? (Pretty sure you get the gist)

I’m embracing my newfound mum authority, maybe it was a long time coming. Do I always know what’s best? No. Am I always right? Of course not (don’t tell hubs!) but I think it’s about time the world knows this:

I am mum. What I say goes.

In other news:

Marms has been once again gracing us with her presence, last night she sat next to my feet for a whole tewnty minutes! Some of this time was spent chewing my slipper socks.

Hubs is on a stag do this this weekend (bachelor party to any readers from the U S of A) so I’m solo parenting for a couple of days.

The boy has learnt to clap. We are super proud.

 

 

From tiny baby to tiny person.

In the past two weeks our tiny baby is fast blossoming into a tiny human. He is now 9 months old. He crawls, pulls himself to standing, ‘talks’, we even get hugs now. It’s lovely, he is more like a person than he’s ever been.

But on the other hand…

Our joint naps are now out of the question, he has a penchant for throwing himself off the bed, then scowling at me, because it’s apparently my fault. Hubs had put doors onto our TV cabinet because the DVD player is the most entertaining thing in the house (next to Captain), although ‘No’ gets a reaction, it’s usually just holding your gaze whilst he continues with whatever he was doing. His standing is wobbly at best so we seem to be getting a head injury a day. Laying still whilst having his nappy changed is now a thing of the past. I am more exhausted then I’ve ever been. He is non stop. And as amazing as it is watching him, marvelling at him, I feel that every day, I lose a bit more of my baby.

When he was tiny, I’d spend whole afternoons with him curled on my chest, caressing his fluffy hair with my lips. He’s much too busy for curling up on mummy now.

It seems that parenting is a cruel cycle, before you’ve learned to appreciate what you have it changes, it’s gone and it happens so. bloody. quickly.

In other news:

Mum fail of the month was going out without wipes OR nappies the other day.

Wills has his very first picnic yesterday! I was lovely except he was more interested in eating the grass than anything else.

My beautiful bestie has had a beautiful little boy, we’re off for a visit tomorrow, I’m worried what seeing (compared to Wills) a tiny baby will do to my ovaries…

Working and working at parenting.

I am on my third week back at work. The first two were a breeze. This week, not so much. I put this down to two things:

Firstly- the novelty of being back at work is starting to wear off and I’m realising ‘this is my life now’

Secondly – daylight sodding savings. My alarm clock may have said six thirty this morning but I think we all know it was actually half five. I was present in body only today. I also forget where I work… whilst at work which wasn’t great as I was on reception.

I also had a slight wobble after loading Wills into his dad’s car this morning, as I looked at him through the window, he looked all wide-eyed and sad. I didn’t want to leave him, but I had to, ‘my son looked a bit sad this morning’ is not a valid reason not to go in. So gave him exaggerated smiles and waves as his dad drove off and cried on the journey into work.

With gallons of coffee and fizzy drink I made it through my working day, (and three bags of crisps), popped to the shop for nappies and got home, to put the dinner on. After tea hubs and I prep for tomorrow. Then Wills goes to bed and we vege out on the sofa. Tonight Wills decided sleep was definitely not on the agenda. When his wailing showed no sign of abating I retrieved him for some cuddles on the sofa. This was going swimmingly until he smacked me in the face with his monitor. I’m still not sure whether this was an accident or his way of voicing his disquiet about the sudden life upheaval he’s experiencing. What I do know is the inside of my mouth is swollen and my tooth is now moving.

William has very recently started crawling. It is quite literally amazing how they go from crawling a few tentative paces to all over the sodding place. Naturally he finds the most dangerous things to crawl to.  And his new found mobility has meant a huge rise in bumps, usually gained at the exact moment you take your eyes off him. It’s also meant he can indulge in his favourite hobby of following Captain around. I’m okay with this as it helps both of them burn off some extra energy. I’m not okay with William eating cat biscuits so the pursuit often involves Captain, Wills and Mummy.

Hubs and I are slowly getting into this new phase, our parenting has to be different now, all the rules and routines have had to adapt with him and now we’ve thrown working into the mix. We now need to consider childcare, dropping off and picking up, making enough food to send with him (he doesn’t stop eating!) I’ve said it before, every time we think we have this parenting malarky down, he changes and we are back to square one.

In other news:

Captain continues to steal things from the neighbours house, his latest crime was witnessed by said neighbour.

Marms has eaten a couple of meals at our house, but she growled at me when I stroked her. (The cow.)

My first Mother’s Day was lovely! Flowers, a mug and the promise of a night out for cocktails.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where has our baby gone?

Okay, so that’s a bit dramatic, and just to be clear we haven’t lost him.

I’ve been growing increasingly annoyed at the state of William’s room so have just spent the last hour or so ‘sorting’.

Shortly after we brought Wills home from the hospital we had a lot of visitors (none of which brought food, apart from my little sister, if people try to visit you without food, don’t let them in! I am serious; no food = NO ENTRY). Many came bearing gifts (of the non-edible variety) we had some beautiful clothes in size three to six months, I remember holding them up thinking ‘Shit! This is MASSIVE it’s never going to fit him!’

Well they did fit him, for about five minutes and now….

they are too small.

Too small.

He’s growing so fast he’s eating solids, he’s sitting up, he does a sort of crawl (sort of) he giggles, turns when he hears his name, splashes in the bath, smiles and reaches out to other babies.

What seems like only five minutes ago, he ate and slept.

I’m not sure how I feel about this, I’m not used to being a mum yet. There are so many things I’m unsure of, I feel like I’ve gotten a job I wasn’t quite qualified for and soon people will start to notice that I have no bloody clue what I’m doing or what I should be doing. I feel everyone has something to say about how we parent, apparently paranoia is a big part of it. Nothing quite damages your self esteem like bringing up a human.

And nothing makes time go by so quickly. People told me to enjoy every second and although some seconds are far from enjoyable, they’re right.

And when time has left us older, wiser and saggier, and our little boy is all grown up and we are left with a gaping void to fill….. we’re getting a puppy.

In other news:

Captain has been stalking a spider that seems to be residing in the living room. The spider, being both superior in leg and brain power, has continued to outsmart him.

Marms is still seen only fleetingly.

I’ve just completed my first week back at work.