And they called it 'snail' love

I have been back at work for 2 weeks now and it is getting slightly easier for me and the boys. My first week was awful, hearing tears as I walked out the door but were all getting used to it now. Mr B is still young enough to not really care whether I’m at work or sat behind him, however, Mr S is old enough to scream blue murder if he sees me put my coat on, let alone walk out of the door without him. I know it’s hard now, I also know it will be worth it in the long run when I can provide for my boys and give them the life I want for them. 

Part of my first week back was attending a first aid course. I’ve attended one before but it felt a lot more important this time. Something about being a parent makes you realise how precious life is and how quickly accidents can happen. I wanted to make sure I walked away from that course confident that I could provide first aid to my babies and my loved ones should the need arise.

 Just before Christmas Mr S was throwing a tantrum while I was washing the pots. I will never forget what happened next as I literally still have nightmares about it. His tears suddenly changed to high pitched gagging noises, I turned around to see why. The edges of his lips were already turning blue. I ran across the kitchen to him and as I reached out he went limp and banged his head on the table. I picked him up and unsure of myself slapped his back limply while screaming for hubby.

Hubby came downstairs faster than I ever seen him move in his life, (seriously, I don’t think he would even move that quick for donuts and beer), he grabbed Mr S away from me and slapped his back 5 times, suddenly he started crying and the colour came back in his face, (however mine still looked like Casper), I grabbed him and held him so close he was probably at risk of choking again. This moment probably lasted minutes if not seconds, yet to me it was hours, some of the worst ‘hours’ of my life.

Hubby told me afterwards that when he heard me shout his name he knew something was seriously wrong. He also admitted that when he ran into the kitchen and saw Mr S’s limp body and pale blue tinged face he thought he was too late and in that split second thought the worst. I hate to even think about if the worst had happened, nonetheless the fact remains the same, I just didn’t know what to do.

Thankfully the first aid course I attended was very engaging and hands on and I really feel that I absorbed every drop of knowledge available. The guy running it, Kevin, was very passionate about what he was doing and you could see that. His passion and extremely vast knowledge made it even easier to not only learn what to do, but to learn why it is so important. Thank you so much Kevin Chugg. Here is the link for the company who's course I attended.    KC TRAINING SERVICES LTD

If you are able to attend a first aid course, please do. Hopefully you will never have to use your skills, but it is much better to have them, especially if your children are like mine and think everything they find on the floor is free candy, or that every dangerous item in the house is a new toy.I will also be stocking up my family first aid kit. When I got home I checked if we had what we needed, our first aid box consisted of; 1 x half sheet of paracetamol, 1 x sanitary towel, 1 large plaster, an out of date throat spray, a kinder egg toy and a baby sock. I think I need to go shopping.

In other news, I was helping my mum do a little bit of gardening today as she wants to get it nice before summer. I know what you’re thinking, I thought the same. We live in Manchester woman, Summer has well and truly been and gone. While she was moving around some soil she managed to put her spade straight through a snail, who unfortunately is now having lunch with Elvis. I named the severed snail Marjorie and spent the next 5 minutes making Marjorie’s killer, (my mum), very guilty for what she had done. Moments later a second snail, Simon, appeared. He was slugging around the soil urgently, in my opinion looking for his wife Marjorie.

 My mum literally wouldn’t harm a fly, (she once told the person house sitting for her not to hoover up a cob web in the window as she had bonded with the spider), and was consequently so upset by my joke she had to walk away. I later told her that Simon was so upset I found him impaled on a piece of Marjorie’s shell, Romeo and Snailiete style. I don’t think she will be gardening for a while.

Good day to you. xx

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Mama bears crappy day

Yesterday was a bad day. No that doesn’t give justice to how bad it was. It was a dreadful, terribly dog shit day. That just about sums it up. It started off so well. Mr B slept in until 8am which is a record for him and Mr S was happy to lie in my bed watching cbeebies while I cat napped, (be honest mums, what would we do without Mr Tumble and his spotty bag). We went in the garden where they both played nicely and then they fell asleep together on the chair. Perfect morning…….. then it happened. 

I lay down and closed my eyes on the sun lounger and at that moment Mr B screamed and I mean screamed. I jumped up and saw blood all over his face. Que mummy panic, cold sweats, shaking and wondering how long an ambulance would take at this precise moment. Turns out he had bit his tongue in his sleep, however he continued to cry and cry and cry. So obviously Mr S woke up and was terrified by all the screaming and commotion, he ran to me crying and shaking while demanding up. Neither would settle and both were clearly still tired so I decided to go in and try and settle them in their own beds.

On the way upstairs, (3 flights of stairs while carrying them both), Mr B pulled a chunk out of Mr S's curls, prompting more screaming and writhing resulting into me clinging onto them by their nappies. Once I had them settled I went down to get my drink out of the garden and stood in a dog shit. Marvellous, (sarcastic). By the time I had cleaned up and called the dogs a lot of angry words under my breath, Mr B was up. No word of a lie he cried and whined for the rest of the day.

When Mr S woke up he wanted to be continually held, that is until he decided to be mummys big boy and go and play on his slide. Ahhhhh, sigh of relief. I put my feet up and phoned hubby to tell him how bad my day was and how of course it was all his fault for being in work when he should be helping me, when a shuttlecock came over the fence from the children playing next door. Being the wonderful neighbour that I am I threw it back to them which in Mr S’s eyes was an invitation for him to spend the next 5 minutes inconsolably crying, pointing at the fence and giving me the stink eye. I explained several times that we can’t just go in peoples gardens and he could play with me, he ignored me and got louder. He is so rude, not listening, just like his father.

By this point I was at the point of breaking. I bundled them both into the kitchen secured them in their highchairs and began their tea. Funny how crying children sound louder in the kitchen. I checked they were both securely strapped in, then went for a mummy wee, which is code for going to the bathroom, shutting the door, sitting on the floor and having a little cry. Then getting up stronger and ready to start again. It’s similar to a daddy poo, which is when daddy goes in the bathroom, LOCKS the door and sits on Facebook. Don’t even get me started on how daddy always needs a ‘poo’ when there is something to be done. That’s a whole other blog. (he just read this and defended himself with, “it’s not always Facebook, sometimes its Instagram.”)

 I’m not ashamed to admit that sometimes I just have to walk away. If I know my boys are safe, fed, watered and clean its sometimes best to just have a minute, let them have a minute and then start again, (p.s this works with hubbys as well). Mr S refused tea and threw every last crumb of my hard work to the dogs, Mr B ate every last bit while making sure that he got just enough in his hair.

Now I have a rule, if a child is cranky put them in water. I knew they would not give me chance to run them a bath so I switched on the shower. Mr B got in and was instantly happy. It was as though he hadn’t spent the day screaming and tongue biting, why didn’t I do this sooner. Mr S however was not happy and gripped me so hard his nails broke the skin. I suddenly realised the sooner I get them washed and pyjamaed the sooner this sucky day is over and I can drink. At this point I stood up took a deep breath and thought there is only one thing to do, pick him up, get in the shower and sit there with them. I was in that much of a rush to end this horrific day I didn’t even undress. When hubby walked in from work there we were, the three of us sat in the shower basin. Mr B splashing manically, me clothed, wet and broken with Mr S cradled on my knee having his hair washed.

Now these bad days don’t happen too often but when they do my gosh they are hard. All is well that ends well though. I ordered Chinese, I ate the bar of dairy milk that I’d put away for father’s day, (warning hubby that if he mentioned my diet at any point I would stab him with my chopstick), I had a gin and watched Big Bang Theory. What can I say, I love being a mum.

Good day to you

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Mama bear loves Papa Bear

I adore my husband; I know everyone says that but I truly do. He is one of the most caring and loving people I have ever encountered. Well done to my lovely mother in law for raising such a wonderful son. He has stood by me through the highs and lows, and when I say lows I mean low, lower than a body under Gail Platt’s annex, (corrie reference for those not in the loop). He stood there smiling and holding my hand while I was having regular meetings with my doctor and counselling team to get through the worst of my depression. He helps me through the bad days where the D word rears its ugly head and makes everything dark and unachievable. He holds me when I am worried and anxious for the future but above all he is ALWAYS there for me. Don’t get me wrong we argue like all normal couples do, but hubby has this way of calming it and ending it before it goes any further.

He is an amazing father and is wonderful role model to all three of his sons. He shows them daily how to work hard and provide for your family. He teaches them how to be active and enjoy every minute of every day. He really is the best father I have ever met; I know as our children grow they will see him the same way. 

BUT……. And there’s always a but. He has some very annoying habits.

1.       1. He cannot put socks in the wash basket when he takes them off. I have told him time and time again that it annoys me when he leaves them about, yet he still can’t grasp the concept. He said that he doesn’t do it that often, so I had no choice but to take photographic evidence, (see below), and WhatsApp him every time I find them. It wouldn’t be so bad if they were just next to the basket, but they turn up in different places every day. Sometime I feel like a sock hunter. Creeping round the house sniffing out his cheesy cotton foot bags. As a punishment he will be receiving a calendar for Christmas with a different sock pic every month.

2.     2.   He completely phases out when he is watching telly or reading something sport related. I could literally run in naked, screaming while holding a large stick on fire and he would not move his head. His eyes would stay glued on a man kicking a ball or a man with weird clothes saying something or other about Jon Snow. 

3.      3. We are currently on a healthy eating kick together; (I don’t say diet as I’m scared of the commitment that comes with that word). Every so often I will have a little ‘naughty’ treat, as does hubby. However, when I have a naughty moment Hubby takes it upon himself to point out the calorie content, that my choice of snack is not the best option and that I’ll regret it in a few days. Seriously who made him Mr Weight Watcher. After his little moment of being higher than mighty, I can’t enjoy my snack as I’m racked with guilt. 

4

4. 4.     He cannot tell the short version of things, which is a gene he has passed down to my stepson Mr J. His point could be that he went downstairs and there was someone at the door, however Iain’s story would be, ‘I went to the stairs and decided to go down, I checked that no one was coming up as its unlucky to cross on the stairs. Once I saw that the stairs were safe I began my decent. As I arrived at the bottom step I heard a noise, I was unsure what it was so I checked the door. It turns out there was someone at the door and the noise was him knocking.  Sometimes I can be listening to him for 20 minutes and still not have the main point of the story. 

Luckily for him he is worth managing his bad points. He really is my world and he knows that no matter how annoying he is at times I will always love him.

On a final note I had my niece and nephew stay over last night, which was great. I really don’t see enough of them. They are both really imaginative and hilarious in equal measure. 

When they stay over and Mr J is here I don’t see them for the rest of the night as they just play to their hearts content and it’s great to see. This morning they had run out of ideas for things to do so I suggested we play an alphabet game. For every letter in the alphabet they had to think of a job title. My Niece got one, I had to whisper the rest to her as she just couldn’t think of anything. My nephew did quite well, but he does have 2 years’ brain power on the other two. The best however was Mr J who for the letter V said VIBRATOR. I was in shock, what do you say when a 7-year-old says vibrator as a job.

“why what’s a vibrator Mr J”

“It’s a person who for a job makes things vibrate”

Phew panic over.

Good day to you x

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