Thursday, 27 March 2014

Chocolate Snot

Lately, The Boy has developed (yet another) annoying habit. He holds food in his mouth, for like, hours, without swallowing it. I've come to the conclusion that he does it when it's something nice, because once it's swallowed, it's gone. It's super annoying.

This recently happened in public with horrendous consequences.

So we go to the Farm Park with my friend and her little girl. The Boy is soon in a shitty mood because we had to let some other kids have a go on the old tractors. But despite that, we got through lunch in the little cafe quite nicely (basically by letting him eat crisps and chocolate) and then we decided to go and look around the toy shop.

I didn't realize he was still holding a mouthful of mushy chocolate in his mouth, like a little hamster....

.... until he sneezed....

.....all over the Thomas the Tank Engine display.

Luckily no one saw except my friend, who kept a look out for me whilst I frantically wiped all of the chocolaty goop off the toys with antibac wipes.

After cleaning up (the first) mess, I try to get him to swallow. Squeezing his cheeks, rubbing his throat, threatening him, bribing him,  but nope. He would not swallow it.

So I picked him up and quickly tried to make my exit from the store before he defiled any other toys. 

When he sneezed again I managed to catch it in my hand.

However whilst preoccupied with wiping away the shockingly copious amount of runny brown snot from my hand....  he then sneezed in my face!!

What can I say. Just another typical day looking after The Boy. 

Tuesday, 18 March 2014

Motherhood, the pathetic pinnacle of my aspirations?

I recently read an article shared by the 'Huffington Post' on Facebook. It was about motherhood and how it changes you. The worry, the sleepless nights, the self sacrifice, and how beautiful and worthwhile it all is. You know.

Now, I don't want to talk about the article really. What really struck me was the reel of comments below the article. Most of them rather derogatory and insulting, but such is the internet.

There was one in particular that caught my eye. 

'The world is overpopulated and a biological function of the body isn't a miracle to tout as the sole reason for your existence. Or at least not a very unique one. Animals breed all the time. Humans have a choice. Some people, like me, had that choice taken away and can't have children. Tho, I wouldn't even if I could. There are far too many children - and adults - who need love and support now. You don't get my respect for spitting out a kid, but you do if you adopt. Or foster. Or volunteer or donate or do anything which helps the planet and her people. But you don't get applause just because you feel special for being a parent and demand the attention. Be careful how you define what being a woman is and if your kids are your sole focus in life I feel sorry for you to have to define yourself only as a mother. Tho if it makes you happy, great. Enjoy the grit and grime - I hope parenthood isn't the pinnacle of most people's aspirations. Kids are important and need education and guidance but don't say every woman's most important occupation is child rearing. It's insulting and devalues my purpose to be nothing more than a milkmaid and nanny.'

I had to think long and hard about what this comment stirred inside of me. It's a little insulting, but I understand it completely. It reminded me of the bitterness I felt when I was an outsider, striving for pregnancy and failing miserably (at what comes so naturally to most). It reminded me about how motherhood is annoyingly expected of everyone and mothers are put on a pedestal. It's the sort of thing I would have said, to remind myself that I was no less a person for being infertile and that life could have some other meaning.

But I decided that it was these parts in particular that grabbed my attention...

if your kids are your sole focus in life I feel sorry for you to have to define yourself only as a mother

I hope parenthood isn't the pinnacle of most people's aspirations

These days, the boy is my soul focus in life. For some reason I struggle with that. I can't help feeling ashamed and guilty that I don't work. Looking at career mums and wondering how in hell they manage it (they must be so much better than me!). I have stopped achieving. I have nothing to talk about with other adults (besides the boy of course). I am no longer a valid person. 

Yet stupidly, when I was trying for a baby, it was all that I wanted. Achievements didn't matter to me in the long run. Giving my husband a child, my parents a grandchild, motherhood was all that mattered. It was literally all I thought about and it ate me up inside.  

God what an idiot I am! I wish I could make up my mind! 

I don't know why I feel this constant need to achieve things - correction - achieve MORE things.

I am happily married to my childhood sweetheart. I have gained a science degree, started up two successful businesses from scratch, and I occasionally get published in a magazine. I have worked my way up from debt to a position where I actually have some money stashed away for a rainy day. I have soldiered through infertility, controlled my type 1 diabetes obsessively throughout the pregnancy and got my crappy body to actually make a healthy baby. Pregnancy was the hardest thing I ever did, by biggest achievement to date. And now I am in a situation where I CAN stay at home with my child and enjoy my time with him. Many mothers would love to be in my position.

What more do I want? 

I think what I really need to focus on is just being happy. Now THAT would be an achievement. I should play with my son and take in each moment as he grows up. I should plant veggies in the garden. I should love my husband and spend time with my family. I should walk with the dog through the woods. I should write some stuff. I should Forget what everyone else is doing and achieving, forget what others might think of me. I don't need the respect or admiration of disgruntled Huffington post readers, and I don't need their pity either. 

I'm one of the lucky ones.

Thursday, 13 March 2014

So what's it all about?

Sooooo... New blog, first post. It seems that an introduction would be the done thing to do. So here it is. 

Thirty something, married, mother of one small boy, who shall be known from here on as 'The boy' or 'The brat', depending on what sort of day we're having.

He's two years old, blonde hair, blue eyes, rosy cheeks, the epitome of cute and angelic - apart from the fact that I'd actually bet money on him growing up to be the next great dictator, and possibly starting world war 3.

The boy is my hard earned prize after struggling through a few years of infertility, a really crappy pregnancy with many complications, and a birth that resembled something from a Saw movie. From the day I pee'd on that stick and it told me I was 6+ weeks pregnant when I hadn't even missed my period I knew the boy was a determined little so and so, and I was right.

I came to realise soon after joining the 'motherhood club' that I really didn't belong here. It felt like I had sneaked in through the back door. I was the one zoning out through boredom with all the baby related conversations. I was the one with the birth story that would turn everyone white. I was the one with the red faced banshee child and they were the ones with the cooing cherubs. 

That's right. It's me. The mother with the screaming kid that ruins your restaurant meal. The mother who has, on occasion, snapped and told her child 'for God's sake SHUT UP!'. The mother who will go upstairs and scream into a pillow on a quite regular basis. Yep that's me. And I'm not ashamed.

'You must not be acting firm enough' - I hear you judging me.

And you'd be wrong. I am certainly not a flake.

It's OK. I forgive you for jumping to conclusions. It's actually something I may have said myself back in the days before the boy came along. The fact is, that some kids are just more temperamental than others. It's fine. No really, It's OK to not have a happy smiley child that behaves angelically all of the time, and it's OK to not be the perfect mother.

Believe it or not, it is actually possible to think your child is a complete arse AND love them an unfathomable amount at the same time.

I suppose that's what this blog's going to be all about. That's my message.

'It's OK'.

Alright it's not catchy, but a well needed message in today's mothering society - where your sold this perfect dream of snuggles and rainbows, where it's a constant 'dick measuring' competition between you and the other ('better') mums, where you constantly carry a mountain of guilt thinking that you don't do a good enough job or that you don't enjoy it enough.

No wonder Post Natal Depression is rife these days - Expectations VS Reality. The aim of my blog is to be a reality haven.

So, if you're one of those always happy, well adjusted, full of advice (secretly judging us all) mothers who can't ever understand why anyone would become exasperated with parenting because it's so Goddamn dreamy, then don't let the door hit your perfectly toned backside on the way out.

Otherwise, hello and welcome!