Life before Mama Bear

Before I start today's blog I have news. At the ripe old age of 27 I have finally been chosen as a bridesmaid by the beautiful bride to be, the future Mrs Pope. She is an amazing friend and I can't wait to support her when she marries the man of her dreams. Even if she makes me wear a stupid dress with big puffy sleeves in a sickening shade of orange it will be an amazing day. 

Now let's begin what you came here for - today's blog. 

I have been thinking about my life before motherhood and how different it was. Both pre babies and post babies is a brilliant life that I wouldn't want to change for the world, well I wouldn't mind changing the crying early morning wake up calls, but I doubt that's going to change anytime soon. My god my life is different now.........

1. In 2013, 1-year BB, (before baby), I went on a girl’s holiday, well girls and gays, to Palma. It was my beautiful friends 30th so we wanted to do something to remember. we went with the obvious choice of bar hopping in Magaluf dressed as bananas. On the way home I even boarded the plane in my banana ensemble to prevent baggage charges. Here in 2016, 2 year PB, (post baby), I am able to recite all the words to bananas in pyjamas, while peeling a banana for Mr S and combing banana out of Mr B's hair. No bar hopping or fancy dress in sight. But still just as fun.

2. BB I used to quite enjoy going to the bathroom. I'd take my phone and have a scan through the news or Facebook, take my time and then be on my way. PB it is the most stressful thing in the world. I spend 50% of my day cleaning up shit, and yet I can't have one without an audience. A few days ago I went to the toilet, in the few minutes it took me to do my business both kids got into the bathroom. Mr S stood at the side of me demanding a 'cuggle' while throwing sheets of toilet roll at me, Mr B grabbed some shelves to pull himself up, knocked everything off and then sat screaming till I was done. 

3. BB I used to love a bath. I would have it really hot, full of smelly products and it would be very relaxing. PB I can guarantee they will both demand to get in as soon as they hear my toe enter the water. This means it's has to be a comfortable temperature and my lovely lush products have been traded in for baby bath. What was once a relaxing way to end my day is now a splishy splashy family broth. 

4. Something else changed about baths post baby. I had never thought of a bath as anything but a tub to fill with water and bubbles. My my was I wrong. My bath now gets filled with hundreds of toys, assorted loofahs and sponges, empty bottles and a couple of times, I've even had to sift baby poo out, the less said about that the better. 

5. 2 years before baby I spent a night at my sisters looking after my niece and nephew. We spent hours in the garden bouncing on their trampoline. We were wrestling, jumping and doing tricks. It was great. I am not proud of this post baby fact, but it is a fact non the less. PB any sort of bouncing is out of the window. Put it this way, if I take part in the bouncing my waters will break all over again. If you have had a baby, you know what I'm talking about. Note to self – don’t forget your pelvic floor exercises. 

6. BB the thought of someone picking their nose was vile, I would see people doing it and think how in god’s name can you stick your finger up there, gross. Post baby I find myself quite happy to dig my children's nose gold. When I have them all clean, smart and ready to go somewhere, I am not going to let a bat in the cave ruin that perfection. Sometimes a tissue just won't reach those pesky snot balls so my finger will have to get involved. I have a friend who was that irritated with a booger in her daughter’s nose that she ended up sucking it out. She has since found there are handy gadgets to do this for you, but it's a bit late now. 

7. BB my days off were spent lying in till lunch time, then lying in bed for the rest of the day catching up on television. Making sure I was fresh for the night time when the fun would begin. Post baby my days off are no longer days off. In work or not I’ll be woken before 6am by crying and shouting. Then it's a mad dash to get everyone dressed and out for the day before the pre nap time tantrums start. In a way, being in work is more of a day off than running around after my crazy Cubs all day, but I’d still rather be here with them. I just need to come to terms with the fact that I will never lie in again. 

8. Before baby I used to have a wardrobe full of clothes. I used to buy myself a new outfit at least once a week and kept up with all the latest trends. Since my beautiful boys came into my life this has 100% changed. I alternate the same 4 tops and jeans while the boys have a full wardrobe, each. Every time I go out shopping I end up with a new top or outfit for my munchkins, even though they don’t need it, while I rock my Asda finest.... again. 

9. BB I used to use my cleanser, toner and moisturiser every night religiously before bed. Post baby by the time they are in bed and actually asleep I can rarely be bothered. I'm now more of a baby wipes kind of girl. Baby wipes are like the Swiss Army knife of parenting. 

- make up remover 

- clean faces

- clean bums

- clean hands

- wipe down the sides

- wipe high chair trays

- remove stains from clothes 

The list is endless. I still use the correct cleaning products, but day to day who needs bleach when I have Johnson’s wipe at hand.

10. I think the most important change is this one. Before baby I was the best parent there ever was. I knew exactly how everything should and shouldn't be done. Post baby I see parenting in the real world. There is no perfect way to do things as every child is different. I have 2 under 2 and they couldn't be more different. Let's be honest, we're all just winging this parenting malarkey, but as long as our children are happy we be doing a dam fine job. 

Good day to you xx

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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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