Letter from your toddler 'Because I LOVE YOU!'

Happy Friday :)

If your toddler had the words there's a few things I reckon they'd like to say to you...

Dear Mummy,

Because I love you, I like getting up at 5am and our middle of the night cuddles. It means I get you all to myself when everyone else is sleeping.

Because I love you, I want to help. If you could push the supermarket trolley just a tiny bit closer to the shelves I'd be able to reach everything for you. Also if you could fix the kitchen cupboards so they opened I could help make dinner. Remember there's no 'i' in team.

Because I love you, I only pretend to be naughty. Its just I like your non smiley face and that silly low voice you do makes me laugh.

Because I love you, when you ask me to show other people what clever things I can do I won't. Those are special things reserved especially for you.

Because I love you, I share. But please note I've seen you stuffing your face behind the fridge door. I hear the rustle, I smell the chocolate. Nuff said.

Because I love you, I don't want you to be bored so I hope by mixing it up things are exciting for you. Red cup fine one day, not the next. Baton carrots acceptable today not tomorrow. Variety is the spice of life I've heard you say.

Because I love you, I'll be honest. I'm not quite sure about that Iggle Piggle character and watching Upsy Daisy makes me sleepy. But I see that you enjoy it, particularly the ending so I'll put up with it, just for you.

Ps. Did I tell you that I love you?

Your amazballs toddler xx

More Arse-ing About Please!

Happy Friday :)

An arse-ing about Montage

I border on obsessive about having a plan and everything running to plan. I feel panicked when people want to make loose arrangements. Using words such as 'around' 'maybe' and 'probably'. Just like my working week I have a Friday-Sunday to do list. I dislike disruptions and spontaneous alterations. However, a few experiences of late have given me hope that I may be, just may be learning how to go with the flow.

One Friday my husband arrived home early. As the sun was shining he suggested we all go to the pub for tea. I could see the glint in his eye, challenging words to a woman who plans each evenings meal a week in advance. I forcibly clamped my mouth shut, banished away the image of defrosted chicken and ignored the uneasy feeling creeping over me. With a strained smile I took a deep breath and heard myself saying "yes that would be nice". It was nice and we had the chicken the next day.

Last bank holiday weekend I had a vague plan but had to keep it on the low so my husband wouldn't cotton on as he does have a tendency to rebel. A mix of domestic chores, family time and a curry night out with friends, perfect. Facebook was over run with families checking in and selfie pics of car journeys. A day out with a 5 year old is easy. Chuck a 20 month old into the mix and it can be hard. Chuck a busy bank holiday into the equation and it's tears before bedtime, not only for the kids. So we opted for staying home in the garden. At the time it made me feel a bit mean and tight as surely we should be going somewhere? Anywhere? After speaking with friends who did venture out the reality of the 'are we nearly there yet?' car journey, no parking spaces, no eating spaces, queues, queues and more queues, crying toddlers strapped into pushchairs, laughing toddlers running away made me feel quite clever for going Nowhere.

Last Saturday I didn't even have a plan. It felt like one of those lost 24 hours of your life in between Christmas and New Year. Breakfast was a continual graze which then merged into lunch at 11.30 when the kids spotted some leftover pizza. To be fair I wasn't going to give them this, well not cold anyway but that's how they wanted it, who am I to intervene. Morning Activities for my 5 yr old consisted of watching the Ipad, watching the Ipad and watching the Ipad. While my 20 month old enjoyed unrestrained access to the kitchen tupperware draw. Mid morning we moved on to emptying a bits and bob toy box all over the lounge floor. Trying on comedy glasses, throwing balls and generally arse-ing around. By noon I thought I should get dressed. By this time I was really embracing the relaxed vibe so I showered and chucked on my 'staying in' comfy clothes. 2.30pm en route to my parents I realised that I hadn't yet brushed my teeth, ooops.

So while I reckon it is important to make the most of each moment and live life to the full. I've come to realise that not all moments need to be the most, sometimes the least is best. It's good to have a little time without a plan and essentially arse about. Lunch on a sun lounger and PJ's till midday, I think my kids would like me to have quite a few more of these days too!

Keeping it Real

Happy Friday :)

Unflattering angle, no filters, no poses, no second takes, no warning. Just real, how we are, how we look, how we live. (Although I'm not always in my swimming costume pouring Prosecco) Don't get me wrong I love a flattering angle and to be honest felt a tiny bit sick posting this. But I think we've all become a little too selective. Photographs use to be spontaneous, reflecting the moment. A week later you saw how they looked, good or bad. Life has become somewhat staged now, filtered and manipulated to only show our best bits.

Being a mum with small children I have little room or motivation in my life for vanity. Hearing the office girls discuss their regimes for a night out is now not just hours of beautifying but days. Spray tans, fake nails (and toes), false eyelashes finished off with a visit to Mac. Entering mumsy mode I implore them not to. I truly believe they look better without a £30 Mac mask, spider eyelashes and orange bods. On Facebook there's a ton of make up artists promoting their skills with before & after shots. Some of it is scary viewing. Arguably verging on deception & fraud as the transformation is so staggering their own mum would fail to recognise them. Just be warned, what you like tonight you might not recognise in the morning. I wonder what drives this generations love of looking so different from who they really are? Geordie Shaw, Ex on the Beach, The Kardashians may be a good place to start. All obsessed with the external and shamelessly so.

Maybe I'm forgetting what it's like to be young. Reminiscing with foggy goggles 27 years on. I do remember wanting less freckles and more boob (Baywatch influence). But I'm pretty sure real was still the norm. Fakeness was reserved for mocking on Eurotrash and The Word. I know I'm treading dangerously in old fogey territory. I know times change but it makes me a little sad that pouting selfies from over made up faces have taken over the world.

So raise a glass with me tonight to less is more, pale and interesting rules and keeping it real!

A few of my favourite things

Happy Friday :)

Just a few of my favourite things!

Excitingly for me, I'm off to do one of my favourite things this weekend. Meeting up with my lovely University bessies. Due to geographical challenges, work, children and life in general we don't get to meet as often as we'd like. So in homage to doing more of the good things in life I've penned an alternative version of a few of my favourite things. 

Bathtimes at sixes and bedtimes at seven

First spoken words and in merlot heaven

Excitement and joy of what Christmas brings

These are a few of my favourite things

--- 

Boys ruff and tumble with snuggles at bedtime

Big family dinners and lazy bath me time

Crazy nights out and chilled evenings in

These are a few of my favourite things

--- 

Crackling fires and stars in the sky

Giggling children and eating steak pie

All of the seasons from Winter to Spring

These are a few of my favourite things

 ---

When I'm out of wine, when the school rings

When I'm feeling sad

I simply remember my favourite things

And then I don't feel so bad

  



Wishing you all a fabulous weekend, hopefully doing lots of your favourite things.

Lucky Me

Happy Friday :)


It's a hard life

Last weekend I was flying solo with the boys. Just the three of us, mummy day, mummy night. Although I know how incredibly lucky and blessed I am to have two healthy, energetic boys I must confess I did have a few (fleeting) moments of feeling slightly unlucky.

Shortly after my husband jetted into the sun on a boys holiday I received a text. Awwww I thought, he's missing us already. 'Vik, can you sort the travel insurance ' it read. Then I found a package with a stick it note on it 'Vik, can you post this'. A few hours later I noticed another note and promptly thought were he could perhaps stick it.

The weekend started bright and 5.40am breezy, with a lovely slap stick sketch involving me, my 19 month old, a bowl of cheerios and the floor. Repeated 3 times with painful ridiculousness.
A visit to my brothers was most enjoyable for my youngest who took great pleasure in making the most of his new surroundings. He merrily alternated between attacking the TV, lunging for drinks, diving on the dog and rearranging the washing. Me, my brother and sister-in-law positioned ourselves strategically around the room in a bid to scupper his plans which reminded me of the bit in Mary Poppins where they fire the cannon, posts everyone!!!! This visit most probably ensured that they will be 'too busy' for babysitting duties until 2018 and need to take the dog to counselling.
Sunday lunch at my mums, always a winner. My youngest ate his dinner with gusto then proceeded to launch anything in reaching distance like an Olympic shot putter. My eldest decided to do anything other than eat. Wedged between my unruly boys, blocking flying veggies from one side, fishing my 5 year old out from under the table from the other, I willed them to behave to show what a great job I'm doing. "I've farted" laughed my eldest, "Bye Bye" cheered my youngest.

The week began with my youngest smearing himself in black shoe polish 5 minutes before the school run. Rushing, I decided to clean all the visible areas, leaving his legs looking like a serious fake tan disaster. 9 hours later in the bath I realised that wasn't such a great idea. The next morning cupboard door lock fixed and legs just about clean, I was confident that no such incident would occur again. What a silly mummy. 5 minutes before leaving the house (if anything he's consistent), he decided it would be a marvellous idea to apply the green coloured factor 50 suncream himself. Such a kind, thoughtful son.

In the moment I felt quite sorry for myself. Sorry that my husband was sunning himself abroad. Sorry that at 5.40am I wasn't snuggled in bed. Sorry that I couldn't sit still and have a conversation. Sorry that when you thought you had it all sorted you hadn't. After the moment, when calm is restored. Cheerios are back in the bowl, only a faint green tinge remains (on carpet and child) you realise if that is all that's wrong in life then really you should consider yourself extremely lucky.

Wine Night (2016 v 1996)

Happy Wineday :)

2016       (wine night face-big smile & crazy eyes)       1996
 

Last Saturday I enjoyed a girlie night out, which ended up as one of my 'wine nights'*  I drank far too much, stayed out a little too late and took till Wednesday to recover. My 72 hour hangover got me thinking about my first out on the town adventures and what a difference 20 years (and 2 kids) makes.

Preparation
Age 37= Normally spend 41 minutes getting ready. If I'm lucky I get out the house wearing both lip gloss and perfume. To turn me from jogging bottom mum mode to spruced up boogie mode I put my bedside radio on. Mindful to keep it low in the hope my location remained undetected. Two minutes later my youngest enters the bathroom dragging my newly ironed jeans behind him. Upon spying my makeup bag he abandons the jeans and makes a grab for the mascara. I unwittingly think 'he'll not get in that', a second later he has black streaks down his cheeks. Taking back control of the mascara, he shows his annoyance by lifting up the toilet seat whilst keeping his eyes on me. "In one second I'm going to dip my hand in" he telepathically chuckles. So I now have one foot holding down the toilet seat, my makeup bag balanced on the sink tap and a disgruntled 19 month old swinging off the towel rail. Like an angel my husband appears, peace at last. My eldest then decides he must 'help me' get ready. Watching my every move intently he fires non stop questions; "Is that to make your face pink?" (Foundation & for the record it isn't pink) "Do men wear make up?" (Ermmm). He pleads to help so we settle on him applying my blusher, painting one of my toe nails and helping me into my skinny jeans. Laughing at me pulling them on he asks "are they tights?" "no they are just tight" "That's because of your big tummy" he casually observes. All done, I ask what he thinks. He gives me the thumbs up "You're more beautiful than a Dandelion..."

Age 17= Between 2-3 hours of beautifying, complaining about my face (hated my freakles), body (too skinny, no boobs), hair (no straighteners) and re beautifying. Trying on various outfits whilst singing along to a badly self-made mix tape from the previous Sunday charts. Telephoning friends to see what they are wearing. Mum picking up the phone downstairs to tell me to get off it-how rude! If parents in, head out. If parents out rummage through the drinks cabinet until find something that is open but relatively untouched. Replace amount taken with water.

Out
Age 37= The plan was pre dinner G&T's, tapas at 9pm, maybe a drink afterwards, home by midnight ish (very civilised). The first two thirds of the evening went swimmingly. A warning sign that we were in danger of diverting from the civilised plan was perhaps when we ordered a second bottle of red wine (and there are only two of us drinking). 11.40pm our driver is ready for the off. Possibly not helped by me dropping a glass of red wine, cutting her foot and splattering her white shirt in the process. In full 'wine night'* mode I feel this is a terrible idea, the night is young and I feel totally wine, I mean fine. An hour and half later, more red wine has been consumed, unwanted advice dished out to the young, another red wine accident and we decide it's time for home. At this point the whole bar heaves a sigh of relief. A taxi is hailed. I spend the entire journey berating the driver for not wearing a seatbelt and then empty the consumed red wine and tapas on to the side of the road. Classy.
Age 17= Drinking, dancing, bit of snogging (if your lucky) with chips, gravy and possibly a sausage to finish the night ;)

Hangover
Age 37= Open one eye at 6.10am, unable to speak, move and barely think. Wake again around 8.30am to my eldest shouting "Dad!!!! Ellis is eating the shell" Ascertain they are having dippy eggs. Feel guilty about being hungover. Lie in a state of blurrghhhh trying to piece everything together, cringing at the intermittent flashbacks. What happened to the no alcohol after midnight idea? Swear I'll never drink that much again. Feel guilty all day about everything I haven't done in my state of shittyness. When bedtime arrives I feel so proud that I made it through the day (well half of it). Wednesday morning and all is finally well.
Age 17= Sleep till whenever, get up and get ready to do it all again. Hangover? What hangover?

So 37 v 17? There's no denying I had an absolute blast at 17. However, as much as I love the occasional crazy 'wine night'* the nearest thing I'll be getting to wine this weekend will be gums. My eldest is uncontrollably excited as he's been given full access to my face and make up bag. Pizza night with Honey I blew up the Kid is scheduled and I couldn't be more content.

*BTW I'm not a total pisshead. My wine nights happen probably around 2-3 times a year. My friends say it is like Russian Roulette as to who lands on them but I know they secretly love it.

Believe In Your Choices

Happy Friday :)

Having a meeting in Ipswich provided me with a long drive to think about all sorts. Making a mental to do list for the hubbie, day dreaming about my forthcoming girlie spa weekend & having a little debate with myself about parenting. Yes out loud, much better than in your head and everyone just thinks you're on hands free so none the wiser that I'm actually a little bit of a wierdo (shhhh)

So my Jekyll & Hyde style deliberation was essentially "Are the parenting choices we make because they are the best for our children or do we choose to believe the hype/information that supports our choices to justify they are the best?" (You may need to read that twice, I did)

Since becoming a parent and generally getting older I've got to know myself. What makes me tick and what ticks me off. Although I love the idea of being spontaneous I know I need structure. I'm very organised, possibly a little geeky in all aspects of my life. I have an excel document detailing household monies in and out, every Saturday I plan the coming week tea's. Browsing shops I will have a list of what I need to curtail any frivolous spending. Which incidentally my friend once ate, I was devastated. At work I have a to do list, which I update hourly. I once forgot my diary and lasted an hour and half before admitting defeat and heading back home as I couldn't cope without it. You get the picture, I need a plan and love a list which I think is my way to (hopefully) stay ahead of the game.

My personality didn't change when I had children. The need for structure undoubtedly formed my parenting choices. I wholeheartedly believe that routine for babies and young children is a good thing. Which is a bloody good job really as I would have definitely had a mental breakdown attempting a more relaxed parenting style. Our bedtime routine for example has a fantastic dual purpose. Bath, milk and Igglepiggle calms and prepares my youngest for sleepy time. Brilliantly it also excites and prepares me for winey/childfree time, win win. I am more relaxed with my eldest but still suffer palpitations if the youngest's schedule isn't adhered to, so routine it is all the way for us.

When you become a parent you are bombarded with information and opinions regarding what's best for you and your child(ren). With so many different types of parenting it can be a minefield as to what you should and shouldn't be doing. Some mothers repulse at the mention of Gina Ford, others roll their eyes at attachment parenting. Some swear by controlled crying whilst others prefer the Baby Whisperer. All very different but all have research, articles, parent's views and experiences supporting and dismissing each way of thinking. So what's a girl to do?

My conclusion; One woman's co sleeping dream maybe another's worst nightmare. One woman's set routine would be a babyled disaster. Do what works and fits with you and your family to ensure you're all content. Believe in your choices and respect others' as they'll all be individual and different, just as we are.