blessed are the wilful

My boy is 16 months old next week. I feel like we have already been on an enormous journey together. I have to be honest, I had a feeling of detachment from my little baby boy, for quite a while. I got my head around being a mum by the time he was 3 months, began to REALLY love him by 6 months, and out and out adoration by a year. There is no doubt that there has been, this mystical bonding thing. We are attached.

My boy would go where I went, do what I gave him to do. I’ve haven’t felt sentimental about ‘my baby’ growing up, I’ve been thrilled to see him walking, running growing, and while I still relish those few seconds when I can grab a cuddle, I don’t miss those days when I cradled a little baby in my arms.

But now he doesn’t go where I go, he goes off in the other direction. He doesn’t do what I tell him to do, he does something else. He has a will of his own, his own likes and dislikes. I’m teaching him to hold my hand, but I’m also having to let myself, let him go.

This all sounds very dramatic, he is only 16 months old, but it has come as a shock that the person I have done my up-most to protect, now wants to be free! His wilfulness both annoys and fills me with pride. I must keep reminding myself that he is testing life, trying things out, learning – and that’s good! (as long as he holds my hand when we’re on the pavement)

 

bakecation

I’m not a great cook, I used to love baking with my mum when I was little (mainly to get to lick out the bowl) and have grown up being able to bake most things – with varying success. But cooking meals, I never really been into that. My husband likes to cook, he likes nice food and he likes it the way he cooks it, he does most of the cooking!

I actually have a very good reputation amongst my husbands friends for making exceedingly good cakes. But after making a Victoria Sponge that resembled rubber and smelt like scrambled eggs, and a few batches of hard and crunchy flapjacks (and they’re soooo easy to make) I was talking to my mum about who told me that there was a old wives tale that you can’t bake while you’re pregnant! Well I couldn’t, I seemed to have lost the knack and I still can’t find it.

Obviously I knew that having children meant that I had to feed them, but its grim reality hit with the boys first purees.

I wanted to give him home made food but my first attempt at carrot puree (known in our house as “the carrot incident”) didn’t go well. With hindsight I can defend my cooking skills and suggest that PND may have contributed here, but none the less, my carrots WOULD NOT puree. They wouldn’t mash, they wouldn’t rice, they wouldn’t blend and they wouldn’t go through a sieve.

Then there was the custard, I decided I didn’t want him to have Birds Custard and looked around for some organic, additive free powder. I couldn’t find any so I made my own! Well, it wasn’t too bad, after straining out the scrambled eggs (theme developing here) it actually tasted ok and the boy lapped it up (well he would it was full of cream and sugar). Then I attempted rice pudding, which bubbled over and covered the hob, becoming galvanised and now an integral part of the cooker. After revealing my failures to my husband he suggested that it wasn’t necessarily my cooking skills that were lacking but that I was short on the time and attention things need to cook – perhaps he was right.

I have made some successful meals, although both the boy and my husband have eaten some of them with disdain, or in the case of the boy, refused to eat it at all. In my fervent to give the boy home cooked, healthy meals, he has become accustomed to chicken casserole or lentil shepherds pie for lunch, and was horrified at my attempts to introduce sandwiches and eggs. He won’t eat baked beans but will eat home made (by my husband) mackerel fishcakes.

As I tip my cauliflower and chickpea curry in the bin, a little bit of me wishes I’d weaned him on Diarylea Dunkers.

 

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the truth about pregnancy

I’m going to tell the truth. Whilst I continue to battle with “should I, could I, do I want to have another baby” and in an attempt to relieve the pressure on my brain mind, I’m going to tell the truth about pregnancy.

I don’t want to forget it and as no one else will remind me of this, I’m going to say it our loud, for everyone (well anyone who reads this) to hear.

Any other thoughts that come to mind should be added, I don’t want any stone left unturned. To read the truth click here!

 

dare I say it?

I feel good. I am happy and content. I am good at what I do and I enjoy it.

No, really.

I’m in the midst of a really wonderful moment, the boy is truly amazing, he is my treasure, I am a good mum, no a great mum, but…

I can’t get rid of this guilty feeling that it’s by lucky comparison. It’s never good to compare yourself to other mums, or your child to other children. It’s pointless and fruitless, but as this feeling is new and very pleasurable, this once, I’m going to do it.

We are brilliant, I am brilliant. My boy is content and happy, incredibly cute (the cutest) he eats well, sleeps well (please don’t jinx me, please don’t jinx me), he loves doggies, he loves me and love him.

I’ve never met the family that live above us, being witness to the sound of their life, (ignore the annoyance of it) and I feel like a together, natural and loving mother, and I like it!

 

coming out

I’m so old!

More than 2 years after I last went shopping and bought normal clothes, I went today and found that I had stepped into a different world. The female population seems to have grown younger by about 20 years, thinner by 3 dress sizes and wear backless tops, dresses and trousers (probably) all the time.

Or perhaps New Look in Croydon is not the place to try and find some in-between clothes (I’m no where near fitting the clothes I wore before I was pregnant and I’ve worn to death the giant clothes I bought to see me through until the old me comes back – I’m still waiting and hoping!)

I’m so old. I’m so out of touch, not only with what others must like (I think that’s called fashion) but what I like. I have no idea what I like, or what would suit me. What is ‘me’?

I bought a pair of jeans, they’re ok, they fit so that’s good, they don’t look nice, but they fit.

I did hope today would be my coming out, I might just go back in.

 

no children, no pets, no DSS

We’ve have just moved house.

We’ve wanted to move for a while but apathy and money saving had stalled the search. But then the landlord sent an email in the middle of the night, putting the rent up, we HAD to move and quickly.

I had become quite unhappy in the flat, it was so noisy, on a high street. There was often trouble outside, the shop below us was broken into. The neighbours weren’t great. Also I was so unhappy when the boy was first born, the idea of moving somewhere more “suitable” or moving anywhere else, for what could seem like a fresh start, was very tempting.

We were obviously very out of touch with the London rental market, we were already very aware we were priced out of the housing market and our first searches revealed that we really couldn’t afford to rent either, shit!

Sifting through ads for flats was utterly depressing. Everywhere was “luxury, great for professionals” “no pets, no children” NO CHILDREN, you’re not allowed to have children!! Where the hell are families, people who live and work in London, where are they supposed to live?

Anyway, as it always seems to, it’s worked out ok. We found somewhere not far away and only just over budget. It’s a lot smaller but somehow we seems to have a bit more space. The boy’s got the run of the house definitely got more space. We’re practically opposite the entrance to a massive park and their seems to be quite a bit for a boy and his mum to do (although, obviously I haven’t actually gone and done any of them yet!)

Yep, its looking good though.

 

the 5 minute rule

Me and my husband were talking about the 5 minute rule yesterday, that and the weather reminded me of my sister, and how, if she dropped something from the barbecue she would pop it straight back on because “the flames will purify it”.

Anyway, the 5 minute rule. The rule changes depending on where you are but basically you have 5 minutes to pick up and eat something that falls on the floor, after 5 minutes it becomes dirty, covered in germs and inedible.

If you’re outside then you probably wouldn’t pick up and eat anything, its too embarrassing. If you’re at a friends house you’d pick it up and eat it quite quickly, you wouldn’t want to insinuate they had a dirty floor. At home its 5 minutes.

This all changes when you have a baby, if I drop the boys food on the floor I wouldn’t feed it to him. If I saw him him pick up food from the floor, I’d try to stop him eating it (how much I’d worry about what he had just eaten would depend on what day it was, if it was floor day yesterday then its not very old so would probably be ok, not done the floors in a while and I’d be a tad more cautious).

You must get more relaxed about the rule, the more children you have. A friend of my husbands was telling yesterday how they were all having a lovely picnic, tucking into cous cous or something, only to see the youngest tucking into bread “where did he get bread from?” Eldest says “over there somewhere”, friend says gravely “we did nothing!”

 

Help! I am a blogger!! Meme

It’s been dry, so dry here, arid. Just didn’t have anything to blog about (must be feeling happy and content!!) Luckily fun-as-a-gran has kindly tagged me in a meme begun by Dragons and Fairydust she’s looking for new blogs to read so how could I resist.

Here we go:

What is your blog about?

It’s about me I suppose, it’s my thoughts on being a mum, and sometimes other things. The good, the bad and the ugly.

When and how did you start blogging

My husband had suggested it but I didn’t really think anyone would be remotely interested in reading what I wrote so I didn’t see the point. I started to read a few blogs and thought of a few things I’d like to write, then thought, well, I’ll do it just for me, to write down some of those unspoken thoughts!

What was your first post?

WordPress automatically add a title to your first post, “Hello World” and I quite liked that so I kept it, it was a brief introduction.

Does blogging effect your life and if so how?

I have to find time for it and think of stuff to write, it’s a new community to get to know, its given me a place to say stuff that I wouldn’t otherwise say (probably wouldn’t come up in conversation) and get sympathy/support from like minded people. I was going to say no it doesn’t effect my life but I suppose putting it like this – yes it does!

Thanks fun-as-a-gran for the tag, I’m going to tag…

The Blunt Truth

yummystepmummy

NOTANOTHERMUMBLOG

mummyglitzer

Look forward to reading them.

 

MAD!

A friend has nominated me for the MAD blogging awards! Far to embarrassed to say anything more about it but if you fancy doing the same or there’s another blog you really like and didn’t know about the MAD’s then nominate now.

Go on...