Words From A Stranger

Last month I took on the task of travelling a near 3 hour journey on the train to visit my parents down south. 3 hours which did not include the:
-waking up early to double check my packing
-make my self look half presentable
-feed O his breakfast
-catch the 45minute bus to the train station,
-buy lunch and pick up his favourite magazine,
-wait an hour as I'm either ridiculously early or late (thankfully I was early),
-change a number 2 nappy by the sinks in the female toilets as they decided to do maintenance work on ALL THREE baby changing facilities at the same time,
-get down to the correct platform for them to announce with 3minutes to go that they would in fact be changing platform from no.9 to no.11,
-to have to run to the lift, then run to the other lift,
-be shoved on the carriage without baby changing facilities or anywhere for me to put my enormous pram (Que a panic attack but luckily two lovely ladies helping)

All that while lugging around a big hiking backpack, 3 carrier bags, a big pram of which also had a normal backpack shoved underneath and making sure I still had my handbag.

So we're sat down finally, I take a deep breath and O is happily looking out the window. Over the next hour and half the snacks start running out, The magazine has been looked through several times and O is growing restless. I spend 10-20mins asking him to 'please stop licking the window' to which the fellow passengers find hilarious, he then starts trying to get off the seat but the carriage is absolutely rammed so he cant walk up and down. At this stage he is also extremely tired as I thought it would be a spiffing idea not to let him nap in the morning and that doing so would mean that he should definitely nap for the whole journey. So I do the awkward holding them tight and telling him he is tired and needs to go to sleep, OBVIOUSLY he thinks I know nothing and makes it clear by throwing his dummy at me. I'm tired myself, I resort to singing to him (I no longer care is others think I sound like a cat with a cold when I sing) and he calms a little but is still being stubborn, I'm close to giving up and people are getting up to leave for one of the platforms.

Suddenly someone speaks to me, I look up and its a male in his 40s-50s (I think) and all he says is..

'I just want to say you're doing a brilliant job'

I'm shocked and say thank you as he gives me a friendly smile and walks off to leave the train. I sat there in silence, O has given up the battle of no sleep land and I feel my eyes welling up. Those simple words that took him a few seconds to say, THAT IN NO WAY DID HE HAVE TO SAY, those words made my day. Made me realise I AM doing a good job and though I'm not perfect at least one stranger picked up on the fact I was trying my damned hardest.

Now I will probably never see this man again however his kind action has made me think how a few simple words could really help someone or even just a smile and I will be making more effort in future to try and give someone else that boost that he gave me. He will probably never read this but if he is, THANK YOU.

The Personal Side Of Anxiety

Some of my followers may have noticed I haven't posted in a while but in all honesty I've been so busy it's been hard finding something worth your time to read for me to write about. I watched a few documentaries recently to do with the mental health week so thought I would share my own experience with Anxiety Disorder (AD), this post wont appeal to everyone so I'm sorry if you are someone it does not but I feel it may help some in some way or another.

My life with AD started when I was merely 17 at which I had already moved out of my parents and half way up the country and been through a number of things that if I wrote it all down it would 1. Take me all day and 2. Probably not even seem believable. I had just met my partner and now my sons dad and he was helping me sort some big problems along with trying to keep my college attendance high. I always remember I was doing the washing up and I turned to face him and told him I was going to pass out which on cue I did. When I came to I felt sick and being that we were currently living in his mothers house I didn't want to throw up on the kitchen floor so tried to run upstairs to which I collapsed half way up and banged my head badly on a step. This was the starting point of many years of hell for me.

After this happened I found myself scared of passing out in public, I would go dizzy in shops to the point I clung onto shelves and counters and would have to get out of the shop there and then. I also avoided meeting up with friends or talking in the high street etc. For the first year or two I was convinced I had a brain tumour and that I was dieing or something was seriously wrong with me, I had never heard of Anxiety. Until a DR finally diagnosed me, it helped to know I wasn't dieing.

My description of how I feel when I'm anxious and having panic attacks would have to be its like gasping for air but you can't quite take a deep enough breath for it to catch, you can breath but just not quite deep enough. Your vision almost leaves your body and wobbles putting you off balance making you feel like you could collapse, hot sweats and mumbling and just wanting to get out of the situation. Then crying from exhaustion because you are so upset and angry with yourself yet can't seem to 'get over it' like people think you can.

I was prescribed anti-depressants to try and curb my anxiety and also put forward for CBT, I then shortly after found out I was expecting O. When I was around 20weeks pregnant my CBT sessions started and I had to walk 2miles in the heat with a bump and dizziness anyway from hormones and needing to pee every 5minutes. I eventually got told they couldn't help me as I couldn't tell if it was anxiety or hormones making me dizzy and that they would see how I was after pregnancy. That was me sent away and I was so darn heartbroken as I wanted so badly to be well for this baby that needed me when s/he arrived. I remember going shopping and being sat on a bench in the shopping centre and crying and panicking, froze on the bench but desperately wanting to get up, it literally felt like I was dieing. Then the looks came, in the past I've been accused of being high or drunk by strangers when I was having a panic attack so the thought of others thinking this when seeing me pregnant upset me greatly. It eventually passed and I coped.

O came along and while I had my days it turned out that he was the only thing that had helped me over come in way possible my anxiety, I started talking to and meeting people and making friends. After 5 years of not being able to go into a shop by myself I have come so far, I still have spells of anxiety dizziness but my main problem is thinking people don't like me/talk about me behind my back when in fact I get on with them well. I am hoping this will eventually leave with the more confident I grow as I would hate for my son to pick up on any of my anxiety.

Everyones story with anxiety is different but we all end up with the same problem; not being in control of our own mind and body. But please always remember you are not alone, I never realised quite how common it is until I knew more about the facts etc and a lot of people suffer in silence. The other thing I have learnt is not to judge those I see acting 'strange' when I am out and about as at some point it was me that people was being judged when in fact it was a mental health condition not a substance abuse incident. We will all gain control again one day but right now its working on it one step at a time. Have faith and be strong, I never thought I would have got this far and EVERYONE told me having a baby would make it worse. Well, look at me now I am so much stronger than I was 2years ago when I thought I was dieing on that bench.

Much love,
Amber x

Anyone who would like an ear to talk please feel free to email me, you are not alone.

Fee-fi-fo-fum

Fee-fi-fo-fum, I sense the beginning of the next tantrum.
This is my thinking several times a day recently. Tomorrow O will be 15months but it feel like he is more 15years. How can one little person eat so much? And be so aware of how to get his own way? He's also mastered the perfectly time patronising clapping.

Today he had a tantrum because I took his shoe off for him. I had to put it back on and let him take it back off himself to which he was then satisfied. Later the same day he saw me put his dirty nappy in the bin and decided this action was worth a round of applause, cheeky bugger.

I also came to the conclusion that I may bribe him with chocolate buttons too much as we had our first walk around the supermarket with O on his reigns and he was running around all happy and then spotted the bag of milky bar buttons on a shelf and stopped dead staring at them with out blinking, refusing to move. This resulted in me carrying out a screaming and kicking toddler telling him he can not always get what he wants. Fun.

I also decided to be the artsy mum that lets her child do painting at home and thought how we'd make a lovely valentines card for his little girlfriend. This was not the case, the 6 lovely colours got turned into a grotesque brown and looks more like he had smeared that dirty nappy everywhere. He did colour himself in first though and made himself look fabulous.

Welcome 2016

So it's a new year but no it won't be a 'new me', I'm not into all that womble talk. I'll be the same as I am when next year comes along just maybe a grey with a few more lines on my face.

But I wonder why it takes the turning of a new year for everyone to suddenly decide that they're going to lose weight, leave they're crap job or buy a bloody cat. Why does one midnight change that? I give it another month and everyone will forget it all anyway.

So Christmas, our living room turned into Toys R Us and O has enough white chocolate buttons to last till his teens. I've got enough body smellies to fill another cupboard and re-gift throughout the year (kidding, I don't have friends to re-gift to) and now I have 11 months to prepare for hisnext birthday. I need to get him his own house for his toys already.

New year the delightful neighbours decided fireworks from 8pm through to Midnight were better for everyone instead of just at midnight so I had a scared little boy who just wanted cuddled (I didnt mind this bit too much, my hearts got a bit of a pulse not just stone) and I entered the new year with a family fued over a facebook status. These are the days eh!

The main thing is is O had a good time, food was ate, laughs were made and I smell like the friggin body shop.

Happy New Year!!

p.s My actual favourite present received was a toastie/waffle/panini maker, how exciting is my life!

Merry Christmas

                         Merry Bloody Christmas

Wondering Why The Hell We Became A Mum
(sung to walking in a winter wonderland)

The children cry, or they're whinging
All day long,
I'm no longer listening
We'll sing them a song
But they'll carry on,
Wondering why the hell we became a Mum.

You'll drink wine, and be ok
Tell yourself,
Take deep breaths today,
Plaster on a big smile,
But want to run a mile,
Wondering why the hell we became a Mum.

Then there'll be the times they make us smile,
Like seeing they're faces light up Christmas day,
We'll say 'Are you happy?'
They'll say 'no Mum..
It's 2'oclock it's time for my tantrum'

Then comes along, the bedtime,
Where they insist,
That they're fine,
You shout go to bed,
While Screaming in your head,
Wondering why the hell we became a Mum.

Hoping you all have a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year! I'm so excited to see O's face on his first Christmas that he will nearly understand!

Hide and never find.

O's new thing is hiding EVERYTHING. The remote, my hairbursh, his toothbrush.. anything the little bugger can get his hands on. But my question is, how do they hide things so well? I can't even hide a chocolate bar from my partner (or myself in that matter) yet a 1 year old can hide it to never be seen again.     I have found dummys outside for crying out loud!

Just the other day he hid the remote and we looked for it for over 4 hours. FOUR F*CKING HOURS. In the end I gave up and went to do the hoovering, found the remote wedged between the hoover pipe and the actual hoover. Hallelujah. Next night the little shit decides the remote could do with a dip in his dads cup of tea. We now have no tv.

I couldn't brush my hair for 2 days because I couldn't find my hair brush then out of nowhere he appears with it doing what he classes as brushing his hair. Two days when you have long hair is like not brushing it for a month. Knot central.

His other frustrating habit is dropping stuff down the toilet or in the bloody cat litter. So far this includes dummys, half a sandwich, toilet roll, sippy cup and a number of toys. He is now banned from the kitchen and bathroom (Luckily the bathroom is split into 2 rooms for the toilet and bath so don't worry he's still allowed a bath).

Safe to say, this week he belonged in the baby bin.

'Tis The Season

Is December really the season to be jolly? I mean yes I'm super excited to see O's face on christmas morning opening his presents, even if he won't have a clue what's going on.

But (and there's always a but) it feels like there's so much pressure to do everything 'right' and standards these days are much higher than when I was a child. Just the other day I bought all the stuff to make christmas cards which have the space to insert printed photo's of O for all the family to keep, I needed 11 and obviously they only done them in packs of 10 but still I stretched my pennies and bought two lots, come to make them and one pack has dissapeared (I will probably find them in some crazy place in June thanks to O) not only that but I forgot about the fact I have to get the prints too so I'm now praying they arrive on time. If not well its cheap cards out a pack.

I got all festive putting the christmas tree up with the presents that we had been given so far underneath (I was called brave for doing so now I realise I'm just plain stupid), half of them are now ripped open again thanks to O.

We went to see Santa and were stuck queing behind a lady with her angelic George who was running around trying to pull the heads off every polar bear and penguin to which she went on to shout and scream at him. Well done George bloody William. On a positive O didn't cry at Santa which was a bonus bless him.

Putting the Disney christmas cd on and listening to mickey mouse and gang sing songs for O to just sit there looking a me as if to say 'Mum what is this crap' then as I change cd the rock music radio station comes on and he instantanously start headbanging. (That's my boy!)

There are of course some bonuses like getting a full toy kitchen set with working lights for £4.99 instead of £60 because the shop had coded it wrong at the till. (Don't worry it was a big chain store who rakes in millions yearly, I don't need to feel too guilty).

So far this year 95% of festive attempts made by me have failed but is this because I expect them to be perfect because of everything we read and hear? Do home made cards and perfectly wrapped presents really matter? I have decided as long as we have pigs in blankets on our christmas dinner plate and a glass of wine, I'm bloody happy.