Sorting myself out.

It’s safe to say, from my previous post that I was a having a wobble of monumental proportions. I have been struggling recently with work pressures, trying to be a good mum, trying to keep my house clean and trying to not hate my body. And I’ve realised that because of being so wrapped up in thinking about how I’m failing, I’ve missed a lot of good things. 

When I feel down, I bring everything else down too. I can’t help it, the world suddenly becomes tinged with grey. I couldn’t handle William’s behaviour even though I was probably the cause of it. Babies are perceptive. It’s probably why he was so clingy. 

Yesterday I had a glorious afternoon with my son. I worked in the morning and managed to hand over a project to my boss. This thing has been the bain of my life for a few weeks so it feels great not to have to think about it for a bit! When I picked him up from my mum’s he was engrossed in watching a pigeon in the garden. He pointed with his chubby little arm and was mumbling ‘kitty’ (everything is either kitty or mummy at the moment). I could see prints all over the window from where he’d been studying this weird creature in NannyGran’s garden.  We got home and we played. We danced,  he ‘helped’ with the washing by taking clothes off the airer and putting them back into the machine. He played with two empty milk cartons he’d pulled out of the recycling box. You should have seen the sheer delight on his face! He cuddled me, he squeezed the cat (we’re still working on cat handling). We had fun. He laughed a lot. I don’t think I can put into words what the sound of his laughter means to me, I have special sounds, ones that make me feel warm inside, Wills laugh, Hubs saying my name and the cats with their surprisingly loud snoring. 

I couldn’t help but think how many times do I get so wrapped up in how I’m feeling that I miss what’s going on around me? 

We’ve had a busy morning today, so busy Will clambered onto my lap and fell asleep. It feels like such a long time since he’s done that. In the early days that’s what we did, he slept, I held him. That doesn’t happen anymore, instead I have a little boy who sprinkles cat biscuits all over the house, plays with the recycling, takes his socks off and shoves them under my nose, pulls the sodding carpet up and permanently changes the TV settings by playing with the remote. And it’s bloody brilliant! 

So, my wee man, my dearest darling boy: you be you. In all your cat-biscuit-eating, weeing- all-over -your monkey, following -mummy-around-crying glory! Because no matter how tired/sad/inadequate mummy might feel sometimes you really can make it all go away xXx

In other news: 

William heard the cat flap go and said ‘KITTY’. I may have mentioned this before, but super proud!

William can say ‘Mummy’ this would be more flattering if he didn’t insist on calling EVERYTHING mummy. 

It’s that wonderful time of year when Marms starts going baldy again. Just in time for winter…

Advertisements

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…

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.

 

Ear plugs at the ready.

Wills is entering a new phase, it involves yelling. At the top of his lungs. For long periods of time.

I am the very definition of ‘frazzled’ at the minute, and when the little foghorn finally stops yelling, I still hear it. (Kept checking the monitor like a crazy woman during his nap!)

So the soundtrack to my day is loud. My hair is doing weird things, to the point my mum asked if I’d cut a fringe. I haven’t I just have lots of short bits of hair all around my hairline. They stick up and add to the crazy look I’ve been sporting for some time. I have tried everything to get them to stick down, so far everything has failed. I’ll just look for some sort of paper bag…

So the yelling continues, and is the soundtrack to my typing this. They say that decibel wise, babies are louder than road drills. I can definitely believe that. It is currently 23 minutes past five, hubs finishes work at five and I’m counting down the minutes until he gets home and amuses Wills.

The moment he gets through the door I’m bulk buying ear plugs.

…..and probably wine….

In other news:

Once again there is a cat in the cot, probably trying to escape the noise.

It looks like my thoughts on reading with Wills and babies in general will be printed in Mother and Baby magazine, this makes up for the weird hair and has made my year.

He. is. still. yelling.