Being different

Before N was born, the hubby and I attended NCT classes. Whilst most things went straight in one ear and out the other, there was one thing which the course leader said that stuck with me.

"Dad's will do nothing wrong with the baby - they will just do it differently".

This one line has really stuck with me since the classes last August and especially once N was born. My husband is the most wonderful Dad I could have asked for for my son. They giggle, make mischief and are the best boys in my life.

Yes, sometimes there are things that he and I may do differently but that certainly does not mean that we are wrong in what we do. Not in the slightest.

Having two parents with different approaches will truly benefit N and make him a much stronger and rounded individual. What a lucky boy.

Percentile pressure

Yesterday was not a good day. N cried for the majority of it (followed by the same that night -the joys of teething). But that wasn't the worst of it.

We got N weighed. The good news was that he had put on weight. The bad news was that he has almost dropped a percentile making me feel like a complete failure as a breast feeding mum.

When I asked the HV about it she said that it was only bad if N has dropped two percentiles but that minuscule drop in the dot on ten line made me feel as small as the dot itself. I was met with "he'll be on solids in a couple of months".

Having obsessed over Google in the afternoon, I know that the wee guy is completely fine and that for breast fed babies it is completely normal to move around the percentiles. Yet I still want to get top marks for helping my baby to grow as he should be (or at least how the magic red book tells me).

Needless to say its double portions for N for the next two weeks. Nom nom.

Holiday! Celebrate?

This weekend has been a productive one. We have booked not one but two holidays.

However what I have come to realise is that what was once a chance to relax and kick back with a cool beer by the pool will soon become a logistical and organisational nightmare!

I'm sure for any fellow mum currently reading this you are thinking "poor cow, doesn't know what she has got herself into" and you may be right. Thinking about what we can take with limited space in cases or cars is enough, but then I also need to remember that I will be taking a child who will just be moving onto solids for the first holiday and then will hopefully be eating anything and everything for the second. But then we will also need to figure out what we will do to keep N entertained whilst on said holidays.

I have been reliably informed that it is 203 days until our second holiday which gives me plenty time to plan, procrastinate and if that fails down several bottles of wine (over many weeks give I will still be breast feeding) in preparation.

Oh god, why didn't I just decide to stay at home for the rest of my life?!?!?!???

Why I love being a mum

I was recently asked just why I loved being a mum so much. I have to admit, the question caught me a little off-guard as I had never been asked it before.

I think the biggest thing is the unconditional love that both N and I have for each other. No matter what time of day I go through to see him in his cot, I am met by the biggest gummy smile in the world - that is, unless he is hangry.

Here are a few other reasons I adore being N's mum:
- seeing N grow week on week. I have to pinch myself to remember "I did that"
- being able to share my days (and nights) with this special wee man and sharing his achievements
- being able to make the boy smile by just being there
- knowing that me and my hubby created the most beautiful boy in the world
- seeing N enjoy his bath, his walks, singing and loving his family
- hear him chat to himself and be perfectly happy playing with his fingers - even if it is at 5am
- seeing him smile at his daddy when he comes home

There are however some things I don't love so much:
- interrupted sleep
- not knowing when I will be sicked up on next and which outfit will smell like off milk for the rest of the day
- his sad face. You know the one where the bottom lip turns upside down
- seeing him grow so quickly. Make it stop!

But not matter the day we have had, all the brilliant things that such a wee man brings really do make mine and the hubby's lives.

Support (and not the underwired kind)

Before I had N (and even when I was pregnant), I knew that having a baby would be great for myself and the hubby in expanding or even creating a local friendship circle. 

We decided to sign up to an NCT class and it was the best decision we ever made. Not only did we learn a thing or two about babies, but we have an instant support circle. WhatsApp groups, meeting for coffees and signing up to classes together; I am pretty sure we are keeping Brentwood in business! But its also meant that I have an instant support network at my fingertips - no matter the time - for encouragement and just to check that our babies are not doing anything out if the ordinary. 

Early on, however, when I was learning the baby ropes, things were emotional. I will be eternally grateful for my NCT girls, but there are always some thing's you don't want to share about yourself and weaknesses to reveal. 

Back to when I was pregnant there was an advert on TV for formula which ended with a cheesy "you're doing great" tag. It always felt so patronising and cheesy to consider. How wrong was I?

Even now on the worst of days when the house is a mess, we've had a poonado and the baby will not stop crying to sleep; every mum needs encouragement - no matter how big or small. For me, an all enveloping hug from my hubby or a kind smile from mum to tell me that I'm doing good with the baby means the absolute world. 

And if you don't have that person in your life to tell you how awesome you are, then let me be that person. You are fucking amazing. End of. x

Respect to working mums

Man, Monday morning was stressful this week. Much more stressful than it needed to be.

I was invited to attend a breakfast with my work team in London at 8.30am. Yes, you read right.

Childcare was set up. Bags were packed (mine and N's) the night before. Milk was defrosted in the freezer. However I forgot how long it takes to not only get me out of the door but also a baby - who needed to be woken, fed, changed and dressed.

I had allowed myself 50 minutes given I didn't need to wash my hair (god bless dry shampoo). Not enough time. At all.

Clearly as and when the time comes for me to go back to work, I need to be 1000% more organised.

Respect to all the working mummas out there who made it out the door in time today. To get over the stress, I had to relax by spending far to much in Selfridges right after breakfast. Tough life.

Two is the magic number. Or is it?

Not sure about you (for any fellow mums), but literally as I was rolled out of the operating theatre I was told I would be able to give birth normally next time (an infuriating statement I might come back to in a later post). Next time?

NEXT TIME?

There is a massive presumption if ever there was one - and this was just from the medical staff.

Fast forward several weeks and the question of number two has been coming up more recently. I know it is asking in kindness or simply because we have run out of conversation, but it is the one question which really winds me up. I literally just had a baby; why would I want to stress myself out with getting pregnant again so soon or even contemplating it? I find that playing the "it fucking hurt" card plays well when talking to men (particularly relatives), but women should really know better.

What if I don't want another baby? Even if I do (and obviously this includes the hubby too), it's an extremely personal question and one I will surprise you with when I am back up the duff.

Let's just say that should you read this post and then ask me the question, be prepared for an equally personal question to come back at you. Started the menopause or how are things 'down below'?

Anyone else faced this and if so, how did you respond?

#resolutionfail

I started the day with the best intentions. Nope, sorry, that's a complete and utter lie.

I'm a lazy mum. I take N out to classes, rhyme time, we go on walks and generally have fun. But when we are at home and when he is a little fussy, I put the TV on.

It might be Mad Men or Homes Under the Hammer. It calms him and me. N loves noise. The louder the better and so the TV gives us that.

As the 2016 bells chimed, the TV was going to go off. Then it was just going to go off in the afternoon. Then the witching hour called and the TV stayed on. I promise it was supposed to be ok. But then he cried and I gave in.

Maybe next week. We'll see ;)

I JUST WANT A FULL NIGHTS SLEEP!

I'm not sure about you, but the topic of "is your baby sleeping through?" is one that regularly comes up amongst my mum friends. N is not sleeping through. Never has. But he is getting a lot better at it.

I am breast feeding exclusively and as such such life is all on demand for our wee dude. Now I know that this also means that there is less chance that he will sleep through but I always feel the pressure to get him to sleep through.

He almost did it. Once. Right after his second set of injections. He slept from 7.30pm - 4.30am. But it was all just a trick and the next night he was up again. I know I could have a lot worse to deal with, but I JUST WANT A FULL NIGHTS SLEEP!

Maybe tonight...

A bit about me

As you may have guessed from the title of this blog, I am a mum of one. A beautiful wee man called N. Now I am a little late to the game in getting this blog started as he is now three months old (14 weeks and one day to be exact), but that's barely surprising given how my life has been turned upside down and inside out BUT I would not have it any other way.

A little but about N. He was born via an emergency c-section as he was breech, but was perfectly healthy (phew). However it has meant that I was slow on the "getting my life back " ( if that,a possible) as I learnt to get to know my baby and look after my body.

I want to use this space to share, vent and learn. I hope there may be some readers to this blog, but if I end up talking to myself that will be nothing new - I regularly talk to myself whilst out on a walk and the baby is asleep.

Hope that you enjoy reading and please do feel free to post advice and share your own experiences.

Ok. Here goes...