Sunday, 3 January 2016

Grabbing Opportunities

I absolutely love it when your plans are changed in the blink of an eye into something you wouldn't ordinarily do but which turn out to be even better.

Today's plan was to drop D off at work, go buy a raincoat for O and head home.  Very simple and not very exciting, but a plan that I actually felt a bit stressed out about. 

As I wandered around that large well known chain for baby and children clothes and supplies I heard a voice talking to me (not in my head,  I hasten to add), and without even thinking turned around and said,  "OK". It's one of those vague responses I tend to do when I'm not concentrating or haven't heard properly and I'm too embarrassed to explain I'm deaf and didn't hear. 

What had I just committed to?  Apparently the photographer had a cancellation and I'd agreed to fill it.  PANIC!!! I immediately questioned how much it would cost,  and was pleased to hear it was free. Where's the catch I thought,  and asked.  No catch, one free image emailed within 72 hours,  and we can choose to purchase any others, or not.   Nothing to lose really,  no commitment to buy.  No bank or card details provided,  all safe. 

The session lasted about 20 minutes,  and O really enjoyed himself.  We're going back next weekend to review the other photos and decide if there's any we want,  I can't wait! 

While we were in a fun and adventurous mood I decided not to go straight home.  A purchase of a raincoat and a bargain puzzle in the sale, O and I set back out to have a mooch.

For a while now I've wanted to get my eyebrows threaded (long overdue!) but am never alone to do it, and couldn't work out logistically how I would do it,  but this time I thought sod it,  I can do this. 

O was in the sling,  so I switched him round to a front carry and joined the queue.  I did catch some puzzled looks but adopted my,  "we're having fun and I don't care face".  Music was playing in the background and O was getting quite bouncy.  We had a little jive together, and I quite forgot we were in a shop,  in a queue, with people watching, ha ha! 

When it was my turn,  I sat down in the chair,  and slipped my arms out of the straps so O just sat on my tummy while the girl worked on my eyebrows. He thought it was hilarious but very quickly decided it was the perfect opportunity to just have a cuddle instead.  It couldn't have gone better. 

To some it may not seem like a big deal but it just reinforced to me that really all you need is to be positive and believe anything is possible and what seems like a challenge can be awesome,  and fun. 

I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings! 

Friday, 1 January 2016

Time to plan

In 1976, the Chinese Year of the Dragon, the hottest summer in history (at that time), I came rushing into this world. I think many of my family and friend would agree the Year of the Dragon is fitting for me, and suits my forthright, argumentative and fiery nature.

It's now 2016, the Year of the Monkey, and I feel it's definitely going to be full of some monkeying around. In August I'll turn 40, and I don't want to just let this pass by without proper celebration.

I'm not one for big loud parties and huge celebrations, but I do want to do something that makes this birthday memorable.  I want to be able to look back on the day and know that it was special, never to be repeated, and cherished.

When I look back at my happiest memories, it's never anything huge, it's the little things, the things that have taken time, thought and care, not the huge gestures or the expensive gifts and public demonstrations of affection.

It's been the impromptu moments and decisions to take a roadtrip, but it's also been the meticulously thought out but carefully planned cosy times.

I can't quite decide how I want my 40th to go this year. Do I want to be home? Do I want to be with family,with friends, with just my Other Half? Do I want to make a day of it, a weekend, a week even?

I've only got 8 months to work it out......

Sunday, 8 November 2015

That wonderful time

It's that time of year again.  Halloween and Guy Fawkes is over (although the blasted fireworks keep going off),  and our thoughts turn to the next big thing in our social calendar


Don't get me wrong,  I love Christmas,  Always have done, but as the years go by I'm becoming increasingly disappointed with how materialistic it has become.

This year we've spent a grand total of £30 on our little one, but the money is irrelevant. We've chosen small things which he will get so much enjoyment out of and more importantly we can play with together, and spend time together with, as a family.

My memories of Christmas as a child were all about the family.  Spending time together,  playing laughing and caring for each other.  I can still remember the build up to Christmas, buying the tree together, decorating it and singing the Christmas Tree song.  Dad would 
make his Rum Baba(?), and mum would be in charge in the kitchen cooking up a storm.  I can remember helping in the kitchen, although this was probably actually limited to fighting with my brothers over who licked the spoon, and who got the bowl!  

Christmas day itself was a morning of opening presents, and getting dressed up in our Christmas Day clothes before heading over to my Grandparents where the whole family would meet up to exchange gifts, drink coffee and eat too many sweets.  We'd all return to our own homes for Christmas Day dinner. Poor mum would be stuck in the kitchen putting together a feast, Dad was in charge of distributing the sherry and lighting the Christmas Pudding.  Afterwards there would be a brief spell of just lounging around, playing with our Christmas presents, occasionally playing outside with the neighbourhood kids, before helping mum lay out the table for the Christmas tea.

The family descended to ours in the evening.  In a good way, it always felt so much longer than an evening.  I can remember me and my cousin disappearing upstairs to put our make up on and do our nails, giggling and laughing and feeling super grown up.  Running from room to room, annoying the boys.  There was always a board game that the whole family would sit around and play. Particularly memorable was my eldest brother's game of Pass The Pigs, with hilarious consequences.

These days it seems to be spent travelling from house to house, a constant exchange of gifts, constant scheduling and arranging, trying to fit in seeing everyone.  A day of rushing, and not enough playing.  Checking what we've got and rushing to the sales to buy the things we didn't get.  By the time Christmas is over a holiday is needed to get over it.

I want the Christmas of Christmas Past.  I want it to be about sharing the love, spending time with people we care about, eating too many sweets, and playing lots and lots of games.

Bring back Christmas Past I say, bring back the fun and the laughter, forget about how much has been spent and who received what.  Focus on  the family and friends we're proud to call our family. Nothing else matters.

Sunday, 27 September 2015

A child of many names

As I sit here waiting on my little one to wake up it occurred to me just how many names he has.  Of course he has his birth name and we do use it,but we also have a lot of pet names for him, which he will respond to, and other ways of referring to him.

Take this for example, when he wakes up from his nap, I can almost guarantee that I will say something along the lines of "Hello, gorgeous, did you enjoy your nap?"  When he sees his dad, he will probably call him"mate", as in, "Hello mate!" and start trying to play with him.  The way his dad and I refer to him is very different and is probably more about our language and communication styles.

Then we have pet names.  I can't even tell you where they all came from, how they all started, but each and everyone of them makes me smile, especially when he recognises them as him.

The first one was probably by my lovely mate who took his initials and called him Ogl.  Sometimes we vary it and he has Ogl Sprogl.  The most frequently used is "Poo", and many variations of this.  We also have Oscasaurus as a result of a gift from his Nanny and that just stuck.

Before he was born, he was Wrigglebum, and that has stuck, he's still a wrigglebum now and can't sit still for more than 2 minutes.

His dad has a number of other things he uses but they're not very polite so I won't repeat them here - ha ha!

How many different names is your little one known by?

Thursday, 17 September 2015

Growing by the day

Before I had Oscar, also known as BOD (Before Oscar Descended), I used to go to Slimming World. I was definitely on the chubby side but lost about a stone and a half.   It took me a LONG time to lose that small amount as boy do I like my food. As well as liking my food I have a very bad habit of eating when bored and hitting sugar when I'm a bit stressed or worried about things.

Anyway,  the reason I lost weight initially was because I always worried that if I had a child I would struggle to keep up with him if I was overweight.  I wanted to make a huge change for the better. Once I discovered I was pregnant I was even more determined and monitored my weight while pregnant just to make sure I wasn't gaining more than I needed to.

Then Oscar arrived, also known as LAD (Life After Delivery), and I had lovely new mummy friends. We never went too far, and get togethers invariably involved lunch out somewhere, and quite often cake.

I got back into some really bad habits,  and apart from walking places, my exercise just went out the window. LAD was very chilled and I stopped being bothered about my size. My amazing body was feeding my baby and that was all I cared about.

Then I returned to work and all those leisurely lunches and coffee mornings stopped.  Oh, yes, everything goes back to normal right?  Nope. Work is full of goodies and work doesn't fulfil me like being at home spending time with the wee boy, and I'm forever distracting myself with food,  cakes,  sweets and crisps.  Whatever I can grab to be honest.

Combine that with being super tired all the time,  never exercising and eating rubbish at home,  I'm starting to resemble a blimp again.

Trouble is I have no idea how to motivate myself again. I need a goal, I need a plan.

Until I work it out, you'll find me in the corner eating cake.

Thursday, 23 July 2015

A day in the life - looking back

While undertaking a bit of housekeeping on my email account I stumbled across a draft blog entry I was working on in January!  January!  Have I been so busy that I never got it finished?  To be honest I don't even remember writing it which shows just how exhausted I've been.

While I don't remember writing it, as I read it, I'm struck by how little has actually changed except I've learnt to cope with the exhaustion and I actually somehow fit in a full time job on top of everything else.

"During the night, the baby who can't yet crawl out of his cotbed somehow ended up in my bed. Of course I must have carried him, yet I have no recollection. Hardly surprising given that after nearly ten months of feeding my baby every 2/3 hours day and night means I hardly sleep.

I woke at 0603 to a wrigglebum, rudely awakened by a foot in my mouth swiftly followed by a baby on my chest and his fingers exploring my teeth.  As I open one eye I find my little monster baring all 6 of his shiny teeth at me and laughing very loudly.

He immediately starts grabbing at my cosy warm blanket seeking his morning feed and I cuddle him in with me and close my eyes for another ten minutes.  No sooner have I started to doze and he's off like a rocket, taking half my nipple with him.  He stops to stare at the TV as he waits for it to magically burst into it's wonderful life if moving pictures and weird and wonderful characters that babies seem to love.

It doesn't really hold his attention and the next hour or so is spent changing his nappy and trying to entertain him with my glasses case and hairbrush, while preventing him from throwing himself off the bed and not eating my moisturiser.

About 8am and after another feed it's time for everyone to get up. I need caffeine, lots of it.

The art of multi tasking and timekeeping kicks in as I boil the kettle for coffee, make the baby's breakfast, set up his high chair, prevent him from pulling everything off the coffee table, deliver coffee to the half asleep boyfriend and serve breakfast for all three of us at the same time.

It still amazes me how much I can get done in five minutes now. As I scoff my toast I encourage the baby with his shreddies and discourage him from throwing the milk all over me.  We have a busy day ahead of us and I take the opportunity to leave him with his dad while I make myself look human and scrabble for clean clothes for me, and have the hard decision of which of his many gorgeous outfits to dress him in.

When I return downstairs the wee man is in his highchair very proud of how much milk he has poured on himself and my sofa and laughs at my big sigh.

I clean up the breakfast things, empty the dishwasher, reload the dishwasher and prep Wrigglebum's lunch to take out with us.

I return to the living room to say goodbye to my other half as he leaves for work and look around at all the toys the baby has managed to pull out in such a short space of time.

He stands in front of me trying to climb up my legs and I pick him up. He's in a very giggly mood so we spend ten minutes dancing around the room while singing all his favourite songs. His delight is obvious with his laughter.

I need to get his bag packed for the day though and get him dressed. As I put him on the floor the tiredness hits him and he starts crying and shouting at me. It's now 10am and he's been awake 4 hours.  I quickly dress him and get his bag packed and try to encourage him to have a short nap before we're picked up at 1045. He's not playing the game and instead just wants to play with his toys while moaning at me.

I sort the dogs food and put her in her kennel and make sure we have everything we need for the day. Wrigglebum appears at the stairgate shaking it furiously and crying. He really needs to sleep. As I sit on the sofa he crawls to my lap and pulls down my top for a feed.  My friend is due in 5 minutes. His timing is great.
As he takes in his feed he starts to drift off to sleep so I text my friend suggesting she lets herself into the house and we may be late setting off.  He feeds for another 15 minutes and only stops when he realises there's other people there.

Within ten minutes he has his coat on and the car is loaded and off we go.  The 20 minute journey is loaded with the usual talk of babies, relationships and poo, with the occasional snippet of talk of a fun weekend with cake and alcohol. Ahhh!

We arrive at the swimming pool and begin the juggling act of getting baby and I changed for the pool. It takes several minutes just to find a cubicle with baby changing facilities.

We spend an hour in the pool singing songs,  splashing and jumping in off the side.  Today he learns he can hang of the side of the pool and float in the water,  he finds this hilarious. After an hour he's starting to get grumpy, he's tired,  cold and hungry.  A dangerous combination.

Back in the changing room as he sits on the changing table, I try to get him warm and dry but he decides is more important to feed.  Somehow I manage to get him undressed, wrapped in a towel without him unlatching from his boob. He's a crazy baby.

We're eventually both dressed and he's yelling at me for his lunch.  I load him in the pram and pile the bags on top and head for the lift to go back upstairs.  The lift is broken. FFS. There's a bit of swearing. I'm quite proud that I've made it to 1245 without swearing to be fair.

I arrive in the cafe, puffing and panting even though Wrigglebum is still laughing at the fun of being bumped up the stairs step by step.

It takes me a few minutes to get him settled into a highchair with his lunch. My friend and I decide to treat ourselves to a dirty cheeseburger for lunch. The cafe staff smile as they tell me they've stopped serving food. No lunch for this mamma.

After Wrigglebum has finished his peanut butter sandwich and fruit, we battle with traffic to get me to my next appointment.  This one is for me for a change. A local girl has been looking for people to help build her portfolio for her new business as a mobile beautician.  I spend the next half hour having my makeup done. It's the first time in nearly 10 months that I've looked human , the eye bags are gone, but nothing can hide the deep wrinkles.
The day is far from over as I have errands to run in town. Thankfully we only have to wait a few minutes in the wind for the bus to town. We haven't actually used the bus much and Wrigglebum still thinks it's very exciting. He spends the journey waving at me and shouting at everyone else.

The weather is pretty grim and I race around to get the things we need and hurry home. It's only a ten minute walk home but with the swimming bags and the shopping it's a bit harder battling the wind and I'm knackered by the time we get home. Note to myself, don't buy a house at the top of the hill next time.

It's nearly 4pm and the little one is tired but refusing to sleep. He takes a feed and I hope it will help him have a nap but not today.

I leave him with his toys while I put the shipping and the pram away and make a start on his tea.  As I missed lunch I make enough for both of us, while also making a list of what I still need to do before sleep can claim me... the washing up, walk the dog, hoover, put the pots away,load the washing machine, put the clothes away, I'm sure I've forgotten something important."

Debating for tea

Since the arrival of little legs, his dad and I frequently argue. We've never been ones for arguments and drama, but the arrival of little legs impacted in a way we never predicted.

We probably argue every day, usually late evening after little legs has gone to bed.  It always starts the same way, "Make a cuppa."

The debate is the same everytime. Who's the most tired? Who's the most stressed out? Who's had the least sleep? (I win that one) Who works the hardest? It goes on and on. Eventually one of us (me) gets up and just makes the tea. I obviously don't care enough who makes the damn tea otherwise I'd refuse, maybe I just like the drama :)

It amuses me that while we disagree on lots of things we never really argue per se, but the making the tea argument is a regular!