The truth about mothers day

The best thing about it almost being March is that means its almost Mothers day. I love mothers day. What mother wouldn't. You get breakfast in bed and presents, usually a variety of pink crap with variations of the word mum on it. Your children craft some weird splodge on a piece of paper which resembles a troll's vomit, but is apparently flowers. Whats not to love.

 

Last year however i explained to my husband that I loved him and the children, and for that reason I was going to save them the effort. Save the money you were going to spend on pink mum crap, don't waste your time burning my toast for me and I don't need my 100th 'flower' painting. Instead i want you to all wake up, quietly, so as not to wake me, get dressed and leave. Yes you read that correctly, I asked them all to leave. I obviously don't mean forever, just for the day.

As a tired, over stressed mother of 2 young boys, (they were 1 and 7 months at the time), all I wanted for MY day was to be alone. No early start, no shitty nappies, no bottles or post feed winding. Just me, myself and I. I'm sure there are plenty of people reading this in disgust. "Why would any mother want a mothers day without her children?" The answer to that is simple. I am a real mother, a mother who just wanted a break. A mother who wanted a day to lie and watch a movie while eating crap without having to share with the cubs. I am not ashamed of my perfect mothers day, if anything I am proud that I am able to hold my hands up and ask for a break, before I break.

I spend everyday I am not working with my children, showering them with love and teaching them the ways of the world. I love my boys further than the moon and back, but I wanted mothers day to become a tradition of mamas lazy day. My hubby was happy to oblige, he agreed that I deserved the break.

Hubby woke up and sneaked into the boys rooms where he got them dressed, (in awful mismatched clothes, but he tried), got their bags ready and off he went. I woke up to the sound of silence. It was lovely. There was no tears, no waft of morning nappies, just nothing.

I got up and had my breakfast where no one was grabbing at my toast or throwing their breakfast across the room, there was just nothing... again.

I went upstairs and had a bath with no cubs having a tantrum to get in with me, no rubber duck wedged between my cheeks and a lush bath bomb as opposed to a squirt of the kids top to toe wash. It was relaxing and there was the sound of nothing .... again.

I got out of my 'mama time' bath and sat on the edge of the bed. I was so relaxed and peaceful, I was able to dry my hair and put my make up on without my boys brushing, (or should i say yanking), my hair or sticking their grubby little paws into my Mac blusher. I was ready and there was .... nothing.

At this point I started to realise I didn't like nothing, I didn't like my beautifully annoying children not being here on a day where we should be celebrating me being their mama.  I didn't want nothing. I wanted screaming, cuddling and snotty noses. I never wanted there to be nothing again. Luckily mind reader hubby rang me at that point.

hubby - "everything OK, are you enjoying your alone day"
me - "sob, sob, waaaaa, snot, sob"
hubby - "don't worry, we're on our way, we will be home in 10 minutes"

So they came home and i opened my pink mum themed crap. I cooed over my troll sick 'flower' painting. I ate lunch brought to me on a tray. It was great............... for an hour, then I missed the nothing again.

Oh well not long till the next mamas day.

Good day to you x

(mothers day this year is March 26th, don't forget to spoil your mama's)

It's been a while, how've you been?

So this is going to be my first attempt at writing a blog after having had a huggggge break. Otherwise known as writers block/my kids prefer that I have zero ‘me’ time. I have decided to disguise my break as an excuse for a fresh start. I have a new blog name, mama_bear2017, same blog, same cubs just a new name.

So here’s what you’ve missed while I’ve been gone

- My mama bear has the all clear from her third fight with cancer. She is a kick ass bitch.

- My beautiful Sister in law is getting married, we now have a date. We are now on a countdown of just over 400 days till I have to haul 3 kids on a long haul flight to Australia. Maybe I can tempt her to get married in England....yeh right.

- I’m now in full swing at being a working mama, even though it still breaks my heart when I don’t get to tuck them in.

- It’s been that long since I’ve had chance to book a brow wax, that when I called to book this week my beautician informed me she has just returned from maternity leave, didn’t even know she was pregnant!!

- My stepcub has been given an inhaler which he thinks is really cool, I however am less impressed and more worried about how his breathlessness will effect him in the future. I plan to spend the near future shoving it at him every time he sneezes or sighs. Just in case.

- hubby, well he's still just good old hubby, socks on the floor and all. 

 So how are Mr S and Mr B, They are both at a difficult stage in their own ways. Mr B is going through a very angry stage in life where he likes to smack me, Mr S and of course his toys. I have no idea what his toys have actually done to upset him but there is obviously some long standing issue there. Mr S is feeling very needy, while at the same time hating me for ‘forcing him’ to be a big boy. There has been a lot of dirty protests when it comes to potty training. He has scaled cupboards for his bedtime dodo’s, when it’s not bedtime and he has even recently asked to be held like a baba.

Mr S starts nursery in September so I suddenly feel like the potty training, the dummy, the wanting to be a baby issue, IS an issue. Where we have been taking it at a slow relaxed pace, letting him do things when he is ready. I suddenly hear the seconds ticking away like the countdown clock every time he shits his pants. I don’t want Mr S to be the little boy the nursery staff talk about because he isn’t potty trained/grown out of naps/ able to go everyday without a dummy. Maybe I’m over thinking it, I don’t know. Mr S is the first to go to nursery so I don’t know what they expect of him or what I should expect of them for that matter.

I know every mama and dada says the cliché time goes so fast but my god it’s true. I don’t plan to have anymore babies, which makes all the milestones seem to pass even quicker, because subconsciously I’m thinking, I never get to do these moments again. Some I can live without like shitty nappies in the night and sterilising bottles but the majority i will miss. Snuggles, first steps, first teeth, tiny shoes and clothes. It just seems far too soon to send Mr S too school, he is still a baby in my eyes. A teeny tiny baby, not a growing 2 year old who can now hold a conversation and has the ability to get the attention of a whole room. Everyone tells me he will be fine and he will love it, but I just can’t get on board with that.

When I get in bed I keep picturing him walking into school smiling, new back pack and lunch box in hand. Ready to be educated and be independent. But then my thought turns to a nightmare. The nursery door shuts and the other children are picking on him and pushing him. The teacher, miss trunchbull esque, calls him to the front of the class and calls him out for still needing pull up pants. He cries for me and wants to come home, but everyone just laughs at him. Then my hubby asks me what I’m thinking about, “nothing dear just excited for Mr S starting nursery”.

Oh the joys of being trapped inside a mama head. The train of thought that leads to (irrational) fear, worry (that your mumming wrong, if there even is a wrong way), upset (they cry when you shout at them, then you cry) and just plain old tiredness, or as most mamas call it completely and utterly fooked!!!!

Good day to you xx

P.s I’ve missed you

Hi, my name is bear, mama bear

I suppose I should really tell you a bit about me before I start. I am 27 and I have two beautiful children. Mr S is 20 months old and Mr B is 7 months old. They look and act completely different from each other but are both perfect in their own way. I have a stepson Mr J. He is 7 years old and I have been in his life since he was 4. He is completely different from my two boys and is well known for asking let’s say unusual questions and coming out with even more unusual comments. His best this month was when he told my sister after a fall that he had broken his nipples. I am married to a wonderful man. I know everyone says that but I really believe it. 5 months after getting together I had a breakdown and spent a lot of time in and out of counselling and doctor’s appointments. Throughout this he stood by me and helped me to become the woman and mother I am today.








As a mama of two beautiful little men under two years of age, I have a lot to both rant and cheer about. For example, today they both napped at exactly the same time, meaning a nap for me, (woooo mini mama fist pump), however they both woke up in terrible moods and my eldest, Mr S, snatched my glasses straight off my face and threw them in his toy box, cue me squinting and rummaging blind through endless dinosaurs and things that make noise.








Despite my son being a glasses thief I honestly think that my two boys are by biggest achievement in life. Threw them I grow and learn something new everyday. Today I learnt that jeans are rubbish on a slide and will slow you right down, what a big butt like mine needs is a smooth surface like cotton. So I decided to put on my long cardigan which covered my bum and created a great seat for the giant slide in the play centre, however I picked up too much speed, couldn't stop myself and wiped out two children at the bottom. I apologised profusely to their parents but I could see their judgemental looks. I understand they were angry that their little cherubs got wiped out by the fat woman whizzing down the slide, but hey, when you get to the bottom of the slide, MOVE!








The other difficult thing about these play centre type places is when another child does something to yours, like snatch their toy or push them out of the way to get on the slide first. Instantly your protective mama bear instinct kicks in and you are angry, sooooooo angry. Your first thought is, if I drop kick that kid will anyone notice, then you remember there is CCTV and their mother/father/guardian is watching them too and ya know their a kid. So you go with the only thing which is socially acceptable, make eye contact with the parent, let out a fake chuckle, usually followed by the words "o don't worry it's usually mine that do that". All the while thinking my beautiful perfect prince would never do that he is a delicate soul and ...... o wait, while I was thinking that he just threw a ball at that girls’ head.








 It's like a jungle out there, dog eat dog. I suppose it is preparing them for real life when people will push them down slides to amuse themselves, or throw them in the ball pool to make a path for themselves. I try and stand back and let them have some independence in a place like that for exactly for exactly that reason. I want them to be confident, to stand out in a crowd and to lead the way. What better place to start than in a group of runny nose toddlers all wanting the same talking phone?





So that was my day and also my first blog. Tomorrow I am taking Mr S and Mr B swimming. No doubt I will have plenty to write about after that, I just pray my second blog in no way includes the sentence, ‘and then he pooed in the pool’.





Good day to you X

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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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mama bears mini bear

 

This young lady is amazing! Miss M is my niece and she makes me laugh so hard I have peed myself, literally, (I have been pregnant twice in the space of 12 months, so it can't be helped).

My sister brought this beautiful princess into the world 8 years ago, but I'm unsure about this fact. Miss M is so much like me, (personality wise) I sometimes think she must be mine and aliens planted her in my sister. I once told Miss M this fact and she panicked so much I thought she would cry. 

 

Miss M has a phobia of armpits and the hair that grows on them, to the point that if I need her to leave the room, I just lift my arm up. First glance of a pit or a pit pube and she's gone faster than a toupee in a tornado. That being said you can imagine the horror this week when Miss M discovered her first armpit hair. It was blonde and the size of a borrower’s eyebrow but she was disgusted and it is all she has had to speak about since.  

The horror she suffered at armpit gate was nothing compared to bug gate. 

Miss M accompanied me on a trip to Poundland, (being a bargain queen this is one of my favourite shops), as everything is, as it says in the title, £1. I told her she could have something and it could be whatever she wanted. How good of an auntie am I, honestly though I do treat her to things other than Poundlands finest. 

Anyway I'm getting away from the point. She picked a bug viewer with the intention of a walk to the park. In Miss M's words, "I'm going to look at insects, hopefully caterpillars and then put them back so they can find their houses". Perfect, so off we headed to the till, and so bug gate began. 

The woman on the till took the bug viewer off Miss M to scan and said "these are great, I bought my son one. We live in a flat though and he couldn't catch anything without a garden. I was sick of him moaning so I killed a bug and put it in myself" 

Miss M's face dropped. Her mouth opened so wide in shock I could see her tonsils. I quickly paid and took her outside to ask her what was wrong. Her answer "how dare she kill a bug, what right did she have to kill a bug, what a horrible woman, were not going there again". 

She spent the rest of the walk telling me why it isn't ok to hurt animals, until we passed some broken glass. Then she just ranted about how the streets aren't as nice as they used to be. 8 going on 80. 

Good day to you x

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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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