Mama bear's perfect night

I remember the days when I used to get excited by the fact that my favourite cider had a new flavour or that a club I love was doing 2 for 1 shots and free entry. Times are different now. The thought of having to get the kids sorted and then get dressed up to go clubbing makes me feel stressed and queasy. I’d much prefer to spend my evenings with my hair in a mum bun, no makeup on and ideally braless. I went shopping this week and now have my perfect night in planned for tonight. Me and the hubby are having homemade pizza, watching our new DVD and the best bit will happen when we go upstairs (no not riding the flagpole), new bedding. Everyone knows that one of the biggest pleasures in life is clean bedding and a freshly made bed. Especially when your bedding looks as good as mine.

        

I was supposed to be on a budget this week, being so close to payday, but I couldn’t resist this dreams and drapes set. It is so pretty and floral. Hubby wasn’t too happy with this being part of my ‘budget’, although he had to admit it looked lovely on. Plus, as I explained to him it was a brilliant buy as it is reversible, which in my book means 2 for the price of one. Now I just need pay day to hurry so I can get the bed spread and cushions too. Dreams and drapes, now I have found you, I think I love you.

Over the past couple of days Mr B has started crawling, (yay, everyone loves a milestone moment), he gets about 60 cm forward then gives up and has a lie down for a while. Mr S is amazed by it and follows him round the room. It was so cute, until Mr S thought that he could sit on Mr B’s back and ride him like a donkey on Blackpool beach. Poor Mr B has too put up with some nonsense from his brother. Luckily he is a tough kid and just gets on with it, he doesn’t seem to let anything phase him.

My Boys are 13 months apart and adore each other. They laugh at everything the other does, learn from each other and have already started playing little games together that no one else understands. I know I made the right choice having my boys so close together, but sometimes I can’t help but feel guilty. I remember when Mr S was learning to crawl and I sat and helped him for hours on end, watching to check nothing hurt his chubby little knees as he moved, as heaven forbid anything happened to my boy. Whereas Mr B will never experience this complete attention as he has to share me with his toddler brother, who will clumsily stand on his fingers or stand in his way as he gets going. 

 

I feel guilty that the over 50% of Mr B’s wardrobe is hand me downs, but when you are pregnant again before you have even had your first baby clothes clear out, why would you get rid. 

 

  I know my boys are happy and healthy and get all the attention they require but I will always compare Mr B’s upbringing to Mr S’s, trying to compensate for the fact that they have to share me. I think part of being a mother is judging yourself and wishing you could give more to your little people, even if you are giving them all you have. I mean literally all I have. Mr B has taken a stuffed bunny hubby bought me and Mr S’s new trick is leaving his food but eating what ever I get for myself. Yesterday I brought 2 pieces of fruit into the garden and ate………. neither, as they were gone by the time I sat down. Part of me gets angry but the loving part thinks maybe he is just trying to help the diet effort, (1 stone down). Trust me son running round after you is enough, now give me my dam banana.

Good day to you. x

I am what I am

Before I begin my usual blog I just wanted to mention a friend of mine. She is a single mother, (is kicking ass at it). She works dam hard every day and has never stopped reaching for her dreams. She now has an amazing career, provides a fantastic life for her son Mr C and has just manged to buy her first house. I cannot express how proud I am of her and proud she should be of herself. You’re doing a ‘jolly’ good job Mrs.

We had a lovely night in for my sister’s birthday. Me, my sister, my mum and my auntie M. We started off on the Pimm’s and ended up on the wine. The conversation started off very lady like and ended up about pubic hair and sleeping naked. We started early so by 7pm we were questioning how we became such light weights.

I attempted to make a cheesecake for my sister birthday cake, despite my best efforts it would not set. I balanced candles on the top, sang happy birthday, then handed out spoons and explained that I could not provide slices, as this was more of a soup than a cheesecake. I was given a 1 for presentation but a 10 for taste. Everyone knows that’s what matters. At least I didn’t have a soggy bottom.

Mr J had a lovely moment today where he felt, in his words, very grown up. He emptied his piggy bank and had saved enough money to buy a game he had wanted for his Xbox. The pride on his face when he handed the money over, knowing he had saved and bought it all on his own. I gave him £1 to start off his next little saving mission which he was over the moon with. I asked him, “so Mr J what are you saving up for now”. His response was brilliant. “I’m saving up to buy a rug”. I obviously questioned why a 7-year-old child would want to save his pocket money to buy furnishings for his bedroom. His answer was simply brilliant and typically Mr J. “well I like the feel of the one I’m sat on”. BRILLIANT. What is it with the children in my life wanting to buy all their things from the home department? My Christmas shopping list for this year is so far a rug and a chicken egg timer. 

I am a huge fan of children being children. By that I mean I hate that boys have to be boys and girls have to be girls, they should just be children. I took Mr S out in a lovely pink and navy t- shirt, while we were out having fun I heard an older child say, “mummy why is that boy wearing pink, only girls wear pink.” I felt ashamed, as if I had set my little boy up to be picked on because I picked a girl’s colour, I stood right there in the middle of the play centre running out his future of bullies in school, having no friends, complete failure in life and all because I was a terrible mother who made bad choices. How sad is that, a 7 year oldish child made me feel ashamed because of a colour. At that moment I stopped being irrational and looked at Mr S. He was wearing clean clothes, had a huge smile on his face, was having fun with his brother and mama on a lovely day out and couldn’t stop looking at his perfect self in the mirror. I realised that it didn’t matter what that child had said because my child would have a happy and successful life no matter what colour his t-shirt was, because he is loved, cared for and allowed to be who he is.

Mr S and Mr B both enjoy a variety of toys and we have no such thing as boys and girl’s toys in our house. Mr S’s current favourites are a styling head with a toy hairdryer, a train and his water activity table. We had to buy him the styling head so that he would stop trying to brush my hair, (he is not gentle) and he loves it. Mr B is 8 months old so will grab and play with pretty much anything. He is happiest when he is in his jumparoo or knawing on teething toys. The most effective seems to be one his godfather bought him, Sophie la giraffe, it is the best teething toy, I just wish we had known about it with Mr S. Here's the link if you want to check it out. http://sophielagirafe.co.uk/.  My stepson, Mr J, loves playing dress up and whenever his cousins are here they appear in around 4 outfits an hour, ranging from superheroes to cave men. Miss M my niece puts Mr J in a princess dress and makes him do a twirl, he enjoys it and loves when we laugh along with him. 

I can’t help but shudder when I see little boys crying and their parents say, “stop being a girl”. Why do tears make you a girl? I regularly see a poster in my doctors waiting room stating that suicide is the leading cause of death in young men, I can’t help but feel like those passing comments of ‘boys don’t cry’ will teach them to bottle up their emotions and keep it all locked in, all in the name of being masculine.

I understand that people have a choice when it comes to parenting. If you want your son to play with cars and only wear blue, then crack on. If you want your daughter in pink and only pink while playing Barbie’s, then that’s your decision. You bring up your children in a way that makes you happy, as long as it makes them happy as well.

Good day to you x

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Mama bears mama bear.

I have no choice but to start today on a rant. Why oh why do people use the parent and baby spaces when they have no children. Clearly they want me to dint car doors while trying to squeeze out two little people and a double buggy. Parent and baby parking spots are there so we have more space and are usually closest to a path or safe area in which for your child to stand. Yesterday while shopping with my mum, in the time it took us to set the pram up and get the kids out, we witnessed at least three people park and get out with invisible children. I love that my mum took it upon herself to inform them they couldn’t do this. “I’ve just seen a carpark attendant putting tickets on cars using these spaces without children”. She hadn’t seen this, but it was non argumentative, non-confrontational and it made them move their lazy butts out of the spaces.

My mum comes out with some brilliant comments when she is angered by something. I particular like her road rage outbreaks. You haven’t seen road rage until you have seen my mum lean out of a car window and shout ‘penis head’ at a driver blocking the road. As she gets older she seems to be getting angrier. I’m really starting to picture her as an old lady shouting at the ducks in the park for quacking too loud. Not only is she getting angrier she is getting stronger, not always because she wants to but sometimes because life means she has too. 

My beautiful mama bear was recently diagnosed with cancer for the third time. All the way through her painful and tiring treatment she has continued to be an amazing mum while still helping me run after and play fight with Mr S and Mr B. Only my mama bear could find ways to joke about something so, (let’s be honest), shit happening to her. She has her scans in a few weeks but I know with how amazing she has been that she will have kicked ‘penis head’ cancers butt!

So as I mentioned earlier my mum, the kids and I went shopping yesterday. Like most people I love a good bargain, so was extremely happy to see that T K Maxx had a big toy clearance. Mr S found a Choo Choo, (train for those that are not fluent in toddler talk), reduced from £18 to £2, winner. He shook it at me shouting “Choo Choo”, he was over the moon when I said we could take it home, that was until chick chick gate.

 We wandered upstairs to have a look around the home section where Mr S picked up an egg timer in the shape of a chicken. I turned it and let the bell go off to show him what it did. He loved it. I told him to put chicken back in his house now so we could take Choo Choo home. He refused and repeatedly shouted ‘chick chick’. At this point, in Mr S’s eyes, I committed the worst act of bad motherhood he had ever seen. I took it off him, put it back on the shelf and handed him his new toy train. For anyone in T K Maxx yesterday I am sorry for what you saw next. Tears, throwing himself on the floor, shouting chick chick up the stairs, putting his new train back on the shelf, crying because he’d put his new train on the shelf. It was all very stressful but I told him if he is a good boy he might just get an egg timer for his birthday. 

Kids are weird when it comes to the things they choose to play with. I dread to think how much money is sitting in their toy boxes and yet I have just walked in to Mr S playing with a headband and Mr B very happily playing with a sock.

I do love it when I see them playing and happily entertaining themselves. It really warms my heart, not only that, it also gives me 5 minutes’ peace to do the important things like have a sandwich and brush my teeth. It’s also nice to have a few minutes to go to the toilet alone. I kid you not, every time I go to the toilet I am followed by Mr S. Today it stooped to a new low when he followed me in with a ball shouting catch. What makes it even worse is, I played, I sat there on the toilet and played catch. I thought motherhood would be all cute outfits and snuggles with my babies, not playing catch while I pee.

Good day to you x


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