A Childs Mind

Today I sat down and observed O for about half an hour and tried to imagine what was going through his head. I wrote a list of my guessing and this was the result:

Oooh cat! Chase chase chase!.. Oooh shiney stuff, maybe if I pretend to point mum wont realise I'm pulling this thing she calls the christmas tree down. ...Oh. Nope. She noticed. Cry cry cry, No is a horrible word and I must make this clear. ...Whats this, I must also point to this and put my finger in it. My fingers stuck! Cry Cry Mummm Mummm CRYYY! ....Oooh chocolate button. ....Ooo my rocking horse, I must ride on it backwards while standing on it!.... Now I must run around the toy I just placed down. ....Poop. NO MUM DON'T CHANGE MY NAPPY.... Oooo chocolate button. ....Ohh the big screen that plays colourful stuff! Dance Dance Dance...Glance at Mummy to see if she's looking. She is. Mummy Cuddles!!... I'm going to climb under the table and chairs. I'm stuck! Cry Cry Cry! Mummy saved me...I think toys are for me to throw around. Giggle giggle giggle. Oooh shiney stuff!! *tree falls down*

He was forced to have a nap after this. When you get 10mins sit and try and work out your childs thoughts. It can be quite amusing until they pull down the christmas tree.

Oooh Cat!

10 rules of being a mother.

These are the rules I have picked up so far in the year of being a Mum:

1. You will never have a full nights sleep again for at least 7 years, Even when grandma baby sits you will wake up convinced someone was crying or calling for you.

2. Everyone but you knows what best for your child. Face it, They've parented their own shithead already. They are masters.

3. You will never eat anything to yourself again. Children have dog's noses, they can smell that chocolate bar from upstairs. You can try hiding in the kitchen but don't think you're safe. Nor will you have a whole hot drink.

4. No-one elses child ever has tantrums when out and about. So when you're in the supermarket and child is screaming expect everyone to look at you in surprise and disgust as they have NEVER seen a crying child before.

5. You will never completely empty your washing basket of dirty clothes. Don't even hope.

6. You will say things you used to laugh at your own mother saying. 'Get away from the t.v, you'll get square eyes' or 'My names not Mum anymore'.

7. You will do the weirdest, ninja style side stepping out of the room your sleeping child is in and you will perfect missing the creaky floorboard.

8. It's all a big competiton. Who buys the most presents, who breastfeeds and who doesn't, who child eats the most vegetables. No matter how good your child is, there will always be one better.

9. Your child will poop whenever you don't take the changing bag. ALWAYS TAKE THE CHANGING BAG.

10. Your child has more of a social life than you do.

Moral of this post? Don't worry and just be happy you have your own little shithead. Why compare who is better? You've kept them alive this long!

Getting out the front door

As some all of you know getting out the house with a toddler or even just a baby is bloody effort. I realised today that in 2 weeks I have been late to EVERY appointment. Missed 4 buses. And even turned back half way to baby group as I would have been there a whole 15 minutes maximum. I was going to take O to the park as it was a lovely day, then I looked at the time and realised by the time I had got out the door it would be the school hour with all the older shitheads coming out of school. We will go tomorrow. Maybe.

So the routine of getting out the front door goes a bit like this, this was my exact situation the other day:
- Get O changed out of his first lot of clothes for the day as he's bound to have something on there, 50/50 food or bodily fluids.
- Wrestle his nappy and change of clothes on.
- Spend half hour looking for his other shoe.
- In which time he's probably pooped again. Another nappy change.
- Put in the pram and insist the blanket he keeps kicking off a 1000 times is there for a bloody reason.
- Insist the same about the footmuff. 9 times out of 10 ditch the footmuff.
- Bribe with some type of food. Usually the unhealthy kind.
- Dash upstairs for a pee because well, you never know.
- Think I have done it and push the pram out.
- Remember I've forgot the changing bag. Then that I've left the tippy cup on the side and his lunch.
- Pee again.
- Get out of there now!
- 3 metres up the road wonder if I locked up. Go back and check. Yes I did.
- Half way to the bus stop, realise O does not have a dummy. Run back as fast as my fat legs will take me.
- Rush to bus stop. As I'm nearing it the bus goes past.
- I give up trying.

And you know what? I ALWAYS end up forgetting something!

Moral of this post. You will never be on time with a child. If you don't have a child (I don't know why you're reading this) but don't bother, stick with your cat. Become a crazy cat lady. They don't need nappies or make you need to pee twice before leaving the house.

Its a stay in bed kind of day.

The Day We Were Prayed For.

Today I am writing about my events of yesterday, the day I had to travel to the not so scenic (unless you are people watching) town of West Bromwich. The day I had to catch a tram for the first time and the day I got prayed for.

Lets start at the beginning of the day where O thinks it's incredibly normal for humans to wake up at 6am and that fellow bigger humans like being woke up by being hit in the face (yes he was in our bed due to a rubbish night.. AGAIN). So up we get so he can eat weetabix and watch what they class as kids programmes on t.v.

I aim for us to leave at 12, nice a simple stroll to the bus stop with Daddy who's got an interview to go to. NO. That will never happen, why do I even muse myself that it might?

Daddy realises his interview is 12:10pm NOT 12:40pm, que us rushing around to get ready, I can only find one of O's shoes and he's now wearing odd socks for the day. We get to the bus stop with 7 minutes exactly to spare. Then I realise the dreaded fact that O does not have one of his dummys. No way can I travel all day without a dummy. I have 7 minutes, surely I can run home and grab one and get back. Lets test out my nursing bra for durability.

I'm back in time though hardly breathing. The bus ends up being 10 minutes late any way. Cheers driver.

We get into Birmingham centre and after a dash to the loo because pee can form when you haven't even drank anything we go to the tram station. But no, once again things are not so simple. I can not get it from the tram station and have to get a replacement bus to the next tram station. Fan. Dabby. Dosey.

Finally we get on the tram. I have no idea I am meant to park up the pram and take O out so soon get lectured about that. As I'm taking him out people get on and kindly take the 'priority' seats on which I was sat. I stand and smile while gritting my teeth though thankfully the ticket man does explain to them so I end up get half the seat at the end. Nice.

An elderly lady gets on the next stop with one of those granny push/pull along shopping holders (yeah sorry I don't know the technical term, my bad) and as we leave the station she shouts 'Hello everyone' to which people reluctantly says hello back (a bit like those cheesy pantomimes we went to as a kid) then she starts praying for everyone, at the top of her voice. Obviously everyone shares glances with each other in that awkward silence. Then she comes across me holding O, 'Bless you mother and your baby' I thank her and she moved to the rail by the door but looks uncomfortable standing up. I ask the two seat pinchers to budge up and offer this lady the seat next to me to which she thanks me.

She then starts talking to O and we discover they share the same birthday (obviously from me telling her, O's not that advanced yet), She again prays for him and, then bless her heart, forces £3 into his hand. O obviously looks confused and hands me the money and I thank her kindly and say she does not have to do that but she just sits there for the last 5 minutes of the journey saying prayer for us. Very sweet but very awkward. Also made me a tad nervous something bad was going to happen.

We get off at our stop, do what we have to do then I decide to have a wonder around as the Black Friday sales are on, at this point O starts moaning for food, turns out the banana I bought with me did not survive the journey so off we go with his £3 to get him a sandwich and some fruit (maybe a few chocolate buttons too). While he's sat eating his sandwich I get that dreaded woft come from him, the one where you know its not good news. Sure enough its everywhere and its a swift run (all this running!) to the first baby changing unit.

O decided he is sh*t scared of heights suddenly and the whole time he is lay on the unit while I'm cleaning his mess he is clinging to my arm and screaming for his dear little life because the not even meter drop is horrendous. Done and back in the pram to finish his sandwich.

So tram home, we get on and there is a skinny older male with a heavy Jamiacan accent in a red kilt on and big headphones singing at the top of his voice. 'I just want you to loveee meee' while swinging his arms around with his can of what must be super strong beer. O finds him scary and starts crying (this child is scared of everything recently) so we move to the next carriage, as we walk past the male shouts 'AWW BABA YOU LOOK SO CUTE' I am praying he was on about O.

1&1/2 hours later after being stuck in traffic on the bus and O deciding now was a good time to want to try and run around, we get home. Finally. I am never getting a tram again.

Food For Thought

As well as doing this I run a recipe group on Facebook which started when I started weaning O at 6 months (I trained as a chef when I was younger). The response I got to it was overwhelming and pretty amazing, helping these fellow mums felt so rewarding.

However I noticed one same line keep appearing which was 'Sorry for the silly question but..' and I was so confused as to why these lovely ladies thought asking a question regarding their child's well being was silly i.e. what they can eat, how long a meal can be frozen for, temperatures etc. I had mothers private messaging me as they were too embarrassed to ask in public which I really don't mind but I honestly don't think asking questions is silly when it could stop you making your child ill. No one knows everything.

Along with this just the other day I had someone message me concerned that I had suggested fish fingers as a lunch time snack. Telling me how they are processed and not great for anyone let alone children. Nowhere did I write to give children fish fingers everyday for the rest of their lives but giving yourself a break and your child having a fish finger or a few chips (both which could easily be home-made too!) is not that bad, I mean it's not like they're going to spontaneously combust the moment they bite into it. There is so much pressure on us parents these days to do everything 100% perfect that we're scared to relax. They'll be eating mud and worms behind our backs before we know it, I think a fish finger is the least of your worries.

Their is also the mothers (and I have been here myself) who are desperate for their child to eat. It's so hard to reassure them that their child WILL eat in his/her own time when I know in that position its hard to relax and just believe it. O went 3-4 days just eating banana and refusing any meal I made him no matter how long I slaved over the bloody cooker for, Well they don't care how frustrating they are do they? 

So what to take from this post? 
- No question is a silly question. (I wont be saying that once O can string sentences together)
- Fish fingers don't make our children spontaneously combust.
- Children don't care if you want them to eat or what you cook. They like to be awkward.

Lasagna aftermath.

Paying For Plastic

Having a November baby with Christmas around the corner makes this an expensive time of the year. O's first birthday and second christmas though his first one he was too young to see further than a meter away let alone anything else. So we've tried to make it special.

Being a first time mum it has struck me how ridiculously expensive toys are. I mean lets face it, 98% of toys for 0-2yrs are plastic that make the same 5 noises over and over or can only count to bloody 3 and get to C of the alphabet. Also since when did kids want to pretend to do the washing up? Hoovers maybe but I'm hardly going to pay £20 for pretend washing up stuff when I can get a bowl, scrubber and some marigolds from poundland for less than a fiver. The dirty dishes come along free 2-3 times a day.

 If only we looked that happy when washing up.

(picture courtesy of ELC) 

Anyhow, since when did they get so expensive? Remembering the days of my Nan getting us to sit and put x's next to what we liked in the Argos catalogue, we'd have a set limit and she'd get what she could. These days it would be to pick one toy in the budget! I know I sound old and tight with money but it saddens me that these toy companies are taking advantage of parents wanting to give their kids what they would really like. 

And then when the most popular toy suddenly goes 'out of stock' you have people selling them for 3x the money. But whats more is PEOPLE ACTUALLY PAY IT. I get we all love our kids but come on this is insane. Now I'm not saying don't spend money on your children do they really need it that much for you to pay more than it's worth? At this rate O will be getting a £20 note and a mince pie with a 'Sorry I tried, they were out of stock' letter from Santa.*

They only want to play with the boxes anyway.

 I mean, look how unimpressed he is.

*Again I'm kidding. Dumbass here made the mistake of getting him a mini drum kit for Christmas. Thanks Santa.

Fear: Rational or Irrational

Being someone who suffers with anxiety, fear is a big part of my life. I fear going into shops, crossing roads or needing to pee with no toilet nearby.

But a photo I took the other day (bare with me I will show you) made me think how irrational some fears look but how rational they are to the person fearing them.

My fears/phobias include polystyrene (shuddering just typing it), moths and butterfly's and wrists and ankles. Just no, no, bloody no!

You may be chuckling at this as to you it is irrational but to me it is creepy, goose bump causing nightmares. While they may not kill me polystyrene is like nails on a chalk board to me, moths and butterflies are just scary mo'fo's and wrists and ankles have veins, why can we see veins?! It should not be allowed! (Plus house of wax and kill bill did not help with the ankle part)

My point of this post is thinking of fear with our children, I took this photo and cried with laughter as to me its hilarious and adorable but now I think about it deeper I feel like a right cow for even laughing. The photo you ask?

O is terrified of teddies. Doesn't matter if its a bear, dog or bloody hippo it could be anything but to him its the devil.

I have to admit I am chuckling again at the picture and admit it takes a bit of frustration away from the fact its a £40 build a bloody bear. Also helps take away the annoyance from the fact we went all the way to town excited for him to make a build a bear, even got extras like a smelly thing so it smells like artificial disgusting bananas and he just hid away the whole time.

It'll be a photo that I bring out when his older and we can hopefully laugh about it together but now I have all the teddies away in the top cupboard (I'm a tad worried this will give him a fear of the cupboard now however) and will try again in a few weeks and hope its just a phase.

Fear may seem irrational to you but remember it must be rational to some for it to be there a all. Now excuse me while I go eat chocolate to hide away my guilt.