One week in.

I’ve completed my first week back at work (well two and a half days…) and it’s safe to say it’s nearly killed me!

My son continues to shun my affections and on Wednesday instead of giving me a kiss goodnight he shouted ‘No!’ and smacked me in the face. I felt my eyes well, hubs said not to take in personally (easy words from the favourite…) but I’ve decided, instead of getting upset I’ll wait until he’s a teenager and wants a fiver or a lift somewhere, I’ll refuse. That’ll learn him.

I am considering taking the little scamp out for a walk today, but reluctant after the new years day shenanigans. And if it’s only me with him and he kicks off I can’t walk away and pretend he’s not mine. It’s safe to say the festive season has taken its toll on my waistline, hubs and I have resolved to walk more (even if it means carrying a bawling toddler all the way round). On Tuesday evening we did a belly comparison, Will walked into the kitchen to see us pressing our bellies together and was furious. There was shouting and arm waving involved. I guess either he didn’t like the fact I was touching daddy or he knows the midriff is a dangerous area to carry extra weight and he’s concerned for our health…

Before any of that though, I must give the boy a bath. It seems he’s a little under the weather. It could be his teeth, it could be something that’s going round. All I know for is whatever the issue is he ‘sharted’ as some point last night (a fart with poo) so a bubbly bath should freshen him up a treat.

In other news:

The cats are at loggerheads again. The season of peace and goodwill is most definitely over.

Hubs and I attempted to learn how to whistle last night, fingers in mouth whistling. All we managed was loud blowing. Must. keep. practicing.

Two sleeps until my 32nd birthday.

 

 

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It’s been a while…

It has indeed been a while since my last post, I’ve been going through some things, maybe it’s a  mid/quarter life crisis. The most upsetting thing I’ve been trying  to handle is the unshakable feeling that my son doesn’t love me anymore.

Sounds a tad dramatic, so was calling my sister last Sunday in floods of tears declaring ‘He hates me! I love him so much but he hates me!’ She tried to calm me down and I tried not to choke on my own snot.

I’ll explain. It’s been gradual, my decline in his esteem. It started as a running joke when he preferred to be cuddled and put to bed by his dad. Wrapping his little arms around hub’s legs, hugging him and exclaiming ‘Ahhhhhhhh’, but not cuddling me. Despite the fact that I would put myself in his way giving him lots of opportunity to do the same to me. Like a silly schoolgirl going out of her way to be around her crush. The thing that pushed me over the edge was trying to kiss him when he was in his dad’s arms and he pulled away from me, swiped at me with the little arms, (that I grew, inside me) and burst into tears.

Wow.

Hurts much. I excused myself sharpish, not wanting to ball in front of the boy and proceeded to alarm my sister by wailing like a dying moose down the phone.

In company I’d joke about it, and relish the days when I was at home and hubs was at work being the only adult around meant I would get affection from my son. Hubs is still the clear favourite, but waking up on the sofa, with my son’s favourite monkey teddy wedged in the crook of my arm was all the proof I needed that actually… he quite likes me.

In other news:

The new year is upon us and in lieu of a resolution I won’t keep, I’ve accepted I’ll be the same train wreck of a person I’ve always been.

My sister gave birth to my new niece in October and has confirmed birth the second time round is a walk in the park. (That’s definitely NOT what she said but I spoke to her on the phone afterwards and she had the same care-free tone as someone who’d just popped out for a coffee)

If I have to read Meg and Mog one more time, I may kill myself.

 

Feeling redundant.

The boy is becoming more of a ‘character’ every day. He’s beginning to really communicate what he does and doesn’t want.

Which would be great if 9 times out of 10 it’s me and hubs that he doesn’t want. 

It’s a wonderful feeling when you pick your child up and they scream and squirm because they don’t want you. He’ll happily snog the cat, but heaven forbid mummy and daddy get a kiss. 

Daddy is also firm favourite this week, if he goes upstairs Wills will stand at the baby gate wailing, then smack at me if I try and comfort him. This smarts, I ruined my vagina and got a daddy’s boy. ‘Triffic. 

Luckily the Captain is extremely needy.

In other news:

The path leading from our front door to our drive has turned into ‘massive spiderweb land’, i just love starting the day sticky.

Marms seems to have rememberd that she is, in actual fact, our cat and  is home a lot more. There are now daily cat squabbles. If a cat squabble causes me or hubs to shout, Wills will start to cry. Hysterically. 

No the boy is picking up language at an alarming rate I really must stop swearing. (But that’s hard when your cats are arseholes.)

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.

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.

 

 

The greatest adventure you’ll ever have.

When I was heavily pregnant and resembling a space hopper on legs hubs and I went for a coffee. This isn’t unusual for us and I have to say it was a much easier thing to do without a baby in tow. As we drank our coffees (caffeine free for me) an old lady, who was sitting on the next table, watched us rather intently with a half smile on her face. As we got up to leave she touched my arm, asked if this was our first, and told me ‘This will be the greatest adventure you will ever have, enjoy every second, there is no feeling quite like the one you get when you are a parent.’

Naturally this made me blub, and it took an awful lot of self control not to have a full on pregnancy hormone induced meltdown in the middle of Costa’s.

Thinking about what she said to me I’m left wondering ‘When will it feel like that?’

Mostly as well as tired, lonely, guilty, fed up, inept I feel like I’m already failing our son. I have no idea what sort of parent I’m supposed to be, but having said that I’ve got to 31 and I’m not sure exactly what sort of adult I am. As I type this, one of my hands is blue because I came into contact with a leaky pen, I had hoped I’d be a much more presentable person. Not much chance of that as one of my favourite t-shirts has a cartoon picture of Little Red Riding Hood kicking the Big Bad Wolf in the nuts on the front. I was distraught when the key ring with the same image broke last week.

So where is my adventure? Is this it? Yesterday I had to stop Wills eating biscuit crumbs off the carpet. I also had to intervene when the threw up on the carpet and proceeded to play with it. This is a new thing, if he doesn’t keep it in his mouth to chew to it, he plays with it. (I would like to take this opportunity to point out he has lots of toys, but apparently sick is much more appealing.) All in all, day to day life doesn’t feel very adventurous.

But perhaps I’ve hit a slump. I’m faced with returning to work next week and although I crave adult interactions and not being at the beck and call of a tiny human, I am dreading it. I don’t feel I’m ready. I don’t think I’ve prepared William yet. (Although how I’d do that, I have no idea!) I don’t feel I’ve got this mothering thing down, so how can I go back to work when I’m not a ‘proper mum’ yet? And also, why don’t I feel like a proper mum? What the deuce is one of those anyway?

And then I think about the old lady in a coffee shop. She’s been there, I imagine her children ate biscuit off the carpet, she craved a cup of tea in peace and cried often. But there she was, smiling, genuinely excited for me.

So maybe I need to think a bit deeper.

How about the first time I heard him cry? When hubs told me we had a boy, our first shopping trip, first walk on a beach? (Well carry, mummy was walking), our first swim, first night in his cot? First solid food? First time he reacted to his name? The absolute joy those moments have brought.

So maybe it’s a lot of tiny adventures that are ever so easily overlooked by overtired parents.

And maybe, one day, I’ll be an old lady in a coffee shop smiling at a ginormous space hopper lady and her husband.

In other news:

I fear that Marms has abandoned ship, to pursue a life with the neighbours. Heart is officially broken and I still call the furry little traitor every night.

The remaining loyal cat is becoming more interested in interacting with the tiny human. These moments are usually extremely cute.

Three more sleeps and I’m back at work.