All hail the nappy

This week Mr S did something for the first time. He told me he needed to poo, he then got to the potty and did the poo in time. He normally falls short and has already done it in his pull ups by the time he has told me and we’ve got his pants down. But not this day, this day he made it. My gosh was he proud of himself and I was proud of him.  He stood up cheering and dancing and I was cheering and dancing along with him.

Then came Mr S favourite part of potty training. Taking it to the toilet, tipping the number ones and number twos in and then flushing. I don’t know why he loves this so much, I imagine because he sees grown ups use a toilet so it makes him feel like a big boy. Once we had finished the dancing we turned to get the potty and do the toilet run.

What happened next happened in slow motion.  THE DOG ATE IT! Yes you read that correctly. George my cheeky ‘overweight’ Jack Russell ate the shit. He didn’t even chew. He clearly knew what he was doing was wrong and that if he got caught he would be told not to eat it, so as quickly as he could he practically inhaled a toddlers turd.

I spent the next hour reliving the traumatic experience and dry heaving. I also spent the next hour listening to Mr S throw a tantrum because ‘Gorge’, which is what he calls George the dog, had eaten his poo and he didn’t get to flush it.

Potty training is so bloody stressful.

If the poo eating incident wasn’t bad enough there was more

1. Chasing after a toddler, waving a potty like a mad woman because he has a log hanging out of his cheeks and in his words doesn’t want it out.
2. Having your little boy sat at the side of the toilet, sobbing, because you flushed his wee in the toilet and he wanted to keep it.
3. Your younger child celebrating his older brothers use of the potty by picking up the potty and drinking piss.
4. Your toddler carrying a piece of poo too you because it came out on the floor.

It’s ridiculous.  When you have a baby and you change that first overly gross mustard nappy with only teeny wool balls and warm water , you  think to yourself this is it. This is the worst it can be. It can’t get any worse than  this, and it doesn’t, it actually does get better. The poops start to solidify a bit, you even get the odd cheeky one wipe. Then it happens the health visitor/grandma/friend mentions potty training. You get a bit cocky, I can do this you think, how hard can it be you think. You buy a potty, storybooks about a little boy who craps in all the right places, you Google tips on potty training. You got this mama bear.

Then you start trying, you get pissed on in the first hour and there’s a poo in your shoe. throw away the books, delete your Internet history, it’s all garbage. The only tip when it comes to potty training, persevere, buy a couple of mop heads and start finding poo funny.

Good day to you.

How clean is your bear cave

When you have children in the house, or even just a hubby like mine, you will spend the majority of your waking hours cleaning. It seems that no matter how hard you try to get on top, there is always more mess. So I am going to share with you all mama bears top ten tips to manage cleaning in your bear cave.

1. Who really has the time to break out the duster everyday. If the sides are dusty crack out the baby wipes. What’s good for baby’s butt is good for dust. Another tip when it comes to dust, only have short friends, you only need to dust as high as your tallest friend.

2. If your children insist on getting out every toy they have within 5 seconds, then you have the same issue I do. Messy kids room. My cleaning tip here is so simple and yet effective. Shut the door. The mess can’t be seen and as far as anyone knows there’s an Instagram worthy nursery behind that door.

3. When the dishes are starting to resemble a game of kitchen top jenga and you have guests on the way, don’t panic. Fill the sink with hot soapy water, add the dirty dishes and walk away. This way your guests will think your just leaving your dishes to soak, not just too lazy to wash pots.

4. My favourite cleaning tip is when the bin needs emptying. Who wants to put on their shoes and go out to the bin with a heavy bin bag in the rain? Not me. Instead of putting all that effort in simply point it out to your partner and tell them how much you’ve already done today, (I’ve probably not done much but hubby doesn’t need to know that), rather than  listen to you moan, they’ll just take out the rubbish.

5. When it comes to the bathroom it’s the sniff test. If it smells of pee, (I live with hubby, a potty trainer and an 8 year old with poor aim, so it usually does), you unfortunately have to clean it, if it doesn’t smell like pee, your fine. Just walk away you have another day or two.

6. Sometimes your home will become a bit overwhelmed with all the stuff you acquire. When this time arises you are in need of a good clear out.  There are two was too go about said clear out. Spend hours maybe even days wading through cupboards and shelves throwing away anything you haven’t used or even looked at in 6 months, then make the tiresome journey to the charity shop with your bags of unwanted items, Or take my advice. clear out the mama bear way. Find a near empty cupboard and fill it up with all that crap. That’s where it will stay and the cupboard will now be known as ‘the crap cupboard’.

7. Clothes have to be washed, that’s a given, especially with messy children.  Save time afterwards, instead of wasting time putting the clean clothes away put  all clean  clothes in a basket and simply take items out of the basket as you need them, until there are no clean  clothes left, then repeat.

8. Once every so often you are going to have to clean  properly, I know it makes me sad too. My tip for keeping your home clean. Do not allow your husband or children back into the house ...... ever. If you do have to let hubby back in, put him on a promise. No one cleans faster than a man expecting to get lucky.

9. When the day does come where real cleaning has to take place, put on queen and pretend your Freddie Mercury. Nothing makes me hoover fiercer than pretending to be Freddie as a moustached woman.

10. Get rich, hire a maid, sit down and eat ice cream.

I hope my 10 tips will help you have a more relaxed cleaning experience. I must warn you though, following my tips may result in mice, dirt build up and a staring slot on How clean is your house.

Good day to you xx

Date night

So tonight papa bear and I booked a hotel room. My mama was having the boys so date night was on. We booked a table in one of our favourite restaurants and got ourselves ready to be young and fun again. We had planned cocktails and an all nighter making the most of being just us two, child free.

Before we could leave to check into the hotel we had to sort our stuff out, while looking after and feeding 3 children.  This was fine it just meant we had to cut some corners.  I only painted the two toes you would see in my nude heels, I bought a new top instead of stressfully trying to find one that wasn’t permanently stained with something baby related  or just too tight and we forgot to eat.

As we had forgotten to eat and it was now too late to have lunch, we were ready and out by 5. We went for a drink first. We spent the drink acting like the old people we have become, “it’s so loud in here”, “why are there no seats” and the one I thought I’d never hear myself say, “there’s too many young people in here”. Yes I know I’m only 28, but by young people I mean annoyingly young people, a.k.a. haven’t had kids yet and still look fresh and well maintained, while I’m stood there with a full tube of concealer on my eye bags and dry shampooed hair because I am too tired to wash and dry it.

Next was the restaurant.  We had an amazing meal and plentiful conversation.  It wasn’t until the end of the meal however we realised that our main, (only), topic of conversation had been our boys. I’m sure we used to talk about modern culture, Pop music and having sex. Now we talk about modern parenting, nursery rhymes and when we used to have sex.

We finished our meal and turned down the waiters offer of another round of drinks. We decided it was much too late for that, so we were going to make our way back to the hotel for a nightcap and bed. As we left the restaurant hubby asked me what time it was.
“it’s late babe, (looks at watch), oh my God it’s only 6.45pm”
We looked at each other with the same look on our face. A look that said remember when we at 6.45pm we wouldn’t have even been out yet. Remember when  we used to come home at 6.45AM. Remember when a good night was defined by not being able to remember it. Clearly we have just become shit at this partying malarkey. Having kids 13 months apart will do that too you.

We headed to TGI Fridays and found seats at the bar. That way there would be no children around

and we could enjoy more adult time. We worked our way through the cocktail menu. We had new drinks, tried each others, my gosh we even held hands at one point.  We were really starting to relax and enjoy ourselves.

We hadn’t spoken about kids in ages. We were becoming us again, pre babies us. We were talking about things we wanted in our careers, hobbies we wanted to take up. It was like the old days. I was remembering everything that had attracted me to this man and he was looking at me as though he hadn’t seen me with my legs in stirrups, screaming in the labour ward. Then it happened. A man brought his 1 maybe 2 year old child to the bar. The child had very similar mannerisms to Mr B. We were both sucked  in to the child vortex and the mood changed. I began wishing we weren’t staying in the hotel, “I want to kiss the boys night night”. I also began asking hubby.......... “can we have another baby”. (I was drunk and my ovaries were activated by the cuteness of the child at the bar). Luckily hubby took it in his stride, he calmly reminded me this was our first child free night this year and that our children had woke us up at 5am that morning. “yes your right hubby, no more babies, but lots more cocktails wooooooooooooo”
At this point hubby took me back to the room.

When we got back to the hotel all my dreams came true. I got in bed, hubby made me a hot steaming cup of tea, We shared some biscuits, watched crappy tv and then went to sleep knowing we wouldn’t be woken by crying, being sat on or someone demanding breakfast.

Best date night ever!



Good day to you x

Just a side note – I love my life with my hubby and children, and wouldn’t have it any other way. this is merely an explanation of life after birth, because for some reason they don’t put that in the parenting guides.

Thumpers papa had it sussed

I am a mama of a boundary pushing 1 year old,  an extremely strong willed 2 year old and a step mama of a very inquisitive 8 year old. The reason I’m telling you this is so you understand why I am sometimes a mama on the edge.

So today I am here to inform everyone what you should never say to a mama, (or dada for that matter), on the edge.  In actual fact you shouldn’t ever say these things to any parent.

Just for the record these are actual things that have been said to me about my children.

1. You shouldn’t let your child eat that.

Oh, congratulations, I didn’t realise you had graduated from your degree in nutrition.......oh you haven’t.  Your just a wannabe Gillian Mckeith. Well guess what, no one liked her either. Now shush while my child has a biscuit!

2. You should shout at them for that, or they will never learn.
You are right, the way for them to learn right from wrong is a loud angry voice. I personally prefer to explain to them why it’s wrong, then give them a chance to understand why it’s wrong and correct there actions. But what do I know, clearly nothing or you wouldn’t be chirping up!

3. If he were mine I would ...........
Well luckily for my children you are not their parent. I am, and guess what, I’m bloody good at it.


4. They have a close age gap, you must be a glutton for punishment / have had no tv / be insane.
Actually  non of those answers, but thank you for that ridiculously offensive guess on why I have 13 months between my boys. I actually planned it this way. I wanted my children to be close in age for many reasons, none of which included the word glutton.

5. The way you’ve taught your child to ........... is wrong.
No my dear, I haven’t done it wrong I have done it differently to you. I may have taught my children in a way that wouldn’t work for you, but I can categorically say I haven’t done it wrong!

6. Why have you dressed him like that?
Because I carried him for 9 months, I then allowed a surgeon to cut a sunroof in my stomach in order to safely bring this child into the world. Therefore I will dress him however I see fit. Whether that be a pair of dungarees or a fucking where’s wally outfit.  (Just a quick note, I have not and will never dress my children  as where’s wally, well unless it’s world book day, then I might)

7. He should be potty trained, off the dummy during the day, able to count to 5, etc. etc. etc.
There is only one thing my children should be. HAPPY. I don’t really give a crap if Mr S still needs his dodo when he gets upset. I couldn’t give a toss if Mr B only talks when he feels like it. I most defiantly don’t care if my step cub takes 5 extra seconds to get a joke. That’s what makes my children, my children. They are unique, healthy, happy boys. They all learn in there own time and that’s o.k.

So please if your reading this and any of these points ever cross your mind when conversing with a member of the parent party. Bite your tongue, smile and walk away. In the words of Thumpers papa, “if you cant say something nice, then shut up”, well it was something like that.

Good day to you xx

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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

linked up with

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

Linked in with

Mama bear and the dog poo

You may have noticed that I call myself Mama bear, well I also have little animal nicknames for both of my babies and my stepson. I have these for 2 reasons, the first is that they sound cute, the second so I can justify buying any cute little knick knacks with that animal on. 

 

So I have Mr S who is my sausage dog, Mr B who is my bunny and Mr J who is known as Jake the snake. That's unless their being naughty then in my head their nickname usually rhymes with little hastard!! 

So with all that being said I obviously instantly fell in love with these racing green cushions, when you put them together you have a little sausage dog. Mr S points at them shouting 'mine, mine', I laugh along but he has no chance, they are mine. Another justification for my love of them, they are made locally, by J Rosenthal and Son, so it’s almost like I had to have them.

Now I just need a bunny one for Mr B and my sofa will be complete. 

Speaking of bunnies Mr S has developed a new obsession with the TV programme Bing. It is a programme about a bunny named Bing and his weird knitted, miniature parent/career. 

In a recent episode Bing is very excited and rushing and accidentally steps in dog poo. Gripping stuff. Mr S was very concerned about this and spent the next 5 minutes bringing me all the shoes we own and pointing at the soles, shouting "poo, poo". I'm unsure if he was asking me to put poo on them or just stating what he had seen. Either way, we talked about poo for a bit and moved on, that is until we walked to the post office together. 

Mr S walked all the way there and stood in the busy queue with me all the time pointing at his shoes and, very loudly, shouting poo. I was a tad embarrassed to say the least. Luckily we didn't see any dog poo on our travels, otherwise I'm quite sure he would have whipped his shoe off and used that poo as a dance floor. 

I suppose I better get used to poo chat seems as Mr S is now potty training. Potty training is hard, I feel like my days have now become dedicated to chasing a pant less toddler round requesting him to poo and wee. Which is hard enough without also having to chase around a crazy baby who currently thinks everything dangerous and electrical is a chew toy. I was told to try putting him in underpants when in the house as it will feel uncomfortable if he goes in them, this didn’t quite work as he doesn’t seem to care if he goes in them, also when he is wearing them he runs around shouting Knicks and demanding to see mine. My health visitor suggested I go to the toilet on the potty so he has an example, she clearly wasn’t looking at me, because if I sit my big butt on that teeny tiny plastic throne it’s only going to end badly. So far we've had one wee on the potty and an almost poo. An almost poo means he started pooing on the potty, I cheered, he panicked, jumped up and the poo came out on my foot. Motherhood - it's all fun and games until someone shits on your foot. 

Good day to you xx