Groovy Mums & Cafe Bebe's Real Mummy Tummies

Kate's first challenge this week was this:

1. Body – do you love or loathe your body? Celebrate the fact you are a mum by posting here http://cafebebe.co.uk/2012/02/real-mummy-tummies/

Now, after two children it is definitely fair to say that my body is very different from before I sarted (though I didn't have much time to appreciate just how lovely my body back then was, as I 'fell' pregnant for the first time when I was the fair age of 18) but not in the way you might expect. Cafe Bebe is celebrating real mummies & their real tummies over on her blog & I totally get behind her on that. Mummies go through a hell of a lot, more than anyone could imagine & when celebrities flash their perfect post-baby bodies in our face it is, as she says, bloody infuriating. It isn't normal & it puts totally unrealistic pressure on top of all the other pressures that women all ready suffer in our vain society.

Having said that, here is me 6 weeks after giving birth to my second baby, about to go for my first run since I found out I was pregnant for the second time.

Now before you spit at the screen & slam your laptop shut, please read a little further as I explain...

When I found out I was pregnant I was a healthy 10st 8lb (which is the higher side of a decent BMI for 5ft 7in) & I enjoyed running & salads, as well as cake & takeaways! Now, 11 weeks after having the wee one, I am 9st. I don't have a nanny, personal trainer (though technically my OH is a qualified fitness person thing but I'll be damned if I can get him to give me any training for free) & I certainly don't have a chef - though I would not say no! - but what I did have after the birth of my wee girl was a lot of blood loss. Thankfully, the staff at the hospital knew that this could happen as, when I had my first baby, I bled so much after the cesarean that they offered me a blood transfusion (I said no & spent the first year of her life weighing between 7st & a half and 8 stone, due mostly to anaemia etc. but also to stress & anxiety & an unrealistic view of myself. This was not a good time in my life).

What I'm getting at is that, yes I was lucky enough to have a small bump in both pregnancies & to weigh less than when I fell pregnant in both pregnancies & I appreciate that I can fit back into my skinny jeans, however I am not healthy. I've been running twice since having the baby & I can tell you that I was dying. My baby is a very hungry one & I haven't been able to keep up with feeding her, whereas I think that if I had a little more on me & a bigger appetite myself (I sometimes struggle with eating properly as I have PND, but this is something I feel is getting better) then I would have been able to do more for her.

It's so important to be healthy, not just for ourselves, but for our babies too, & it's even more important to remember that healthy doesn't necessarily mean thin. Healthy is something that is on the inside & appearances can certainly be deceptive.

It's also worth mentioning, as this is about real Mummies' bodies, that in this picture I am wearing two bras. It's now a necessity if I go running & if I wasn't then you wouldn't be able to see half of my tummy. I would show you a picture, but I think there might be a law against this!

On Judgement & Actually Losing My Mind

Today has been a bad day. A very bad day.

I feel okay now. I don't understand it, really. I've been flat for days & I suppose I knew it was coming but also hoping it might not. I just didn't know it'd be so bad. I'm making it sound melodramatic & dicky & I haven't any right to be a melodramatic dick. It was just all shit, & mostly I feel as though I deserve to feel this way, but whether that's true or not I don't want to.

As I say, I've felt numb & fairly irritable for a few days which is usually a sign that things are going to come to a head. It started, I think, from something so pointless & stupid that I feel petty even writing it. The Man's friend text him asking him what we were up to tomorrow. We hadn't anything planned so I thought it'd be nice to have people over. A little while later the Man said to me "He's just suggested he come over, but his OH wants to come too so he thought that we could go to the local while you keep the kids entertained."

To be honest, I think it was just badly phrased but I was pretty damn offended by the assumption that I'd be happy to sit at home with the kids (like every other day) with someone who, admittedly is lovely & I'd like to get to know better, but at the moment I hardly know. In fact I don't think it was even that part, it was just the assumption. So I expressed my mild offence taken at this suggestion & voiced my need for a pint, but there wasn't any real reason for me to object. That was that & later the Man went to work & I got on. I realised that I was still thinking about this a few hours later & so I decided to have a shower.

So I'm in the shower & I'm thinking about the assumption more & more & I'm pretty angry by this point, but I can't really understand why.

"He needs his man time" I tell myself, & I agree.

"Just because you haven't been able to go for a pint yet there's no reason to feel annoyed at him" I say, & I agree.

"He'd do the same for you" I convince myself. I know, but I think I'd ask rather than assume. Wouldn't I? I don't know.

"It's not him that's the problem here is it?" No, I don't think it is.

"Why haven't you been out?" I don't know. I'm breast feeding, my friends haven't been free, I'm reluctant to leave the baby...

"Really?" I don't know.

By this point, though I've tried to rationalise the situation I am still pretty pissed off - in fact probably more pissed off because logic isn't helping my case - but none of the anger or upset I'm feeling has any reason or direction. Am I angry at myself? Am I jealous that I can't just go out at the drop of a hat? I'm sobbing, I'm bawling, & why? I have no idea but I can't stop it. I feel as though I am imploding & there is nothing I can do about it. Usually the four walls of the shower cubicle shut the rest of the world out for me & I can relax but today they have me trapped & now I'm crouching on the floor gagging because I'm sobbing so hard. What the fuck is wrong with me? I think I am actually losing my mind. This is pathetic. I am pathetic.

"Just look at what you have" Yes, exactly. Everything I don't deserve.

I can't stop my tears & I am crying out loudly now. With each heave of my arched back & each sob I try to compose myself but I still can't. My head hurts now, but apart from that there is just blankness & numbness. I feel as though I'm a record that's got stuck. This is supposed to be the part where the sobbing stops & I calm down & then everything looks a bit brighter but it's not happening, just stuck, sob after sob after sob. I don't know what else I can do but scream & so in frustration I hit the tiled wall of the shower with my fist & it hurts a lot. But it feels like a release. I am not stupid & I do not do it again because I know if I start I won't stop. I've only ever felt like this once before, briefly, when I was about 18 or 19 & now I am becoming scared.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I am actually losing my mind. I step out of the shower & continue to sob loudly until Eldest comes into the room. She asks what I'm laughing at. I face the mirror & tell her it's nothing & she goes again. I try plucking my eyebrows as a distraction but I am repulsed by my own hideous, tear-strewn reflection & so I go to get dressed, still crying like a baby. Eldest comes in & she is beautiful in her vile top & pretty skirt - a combination she chose herself - & now she has realised that I'm crying, not laughing. She asks whether I am ill, or just sad. I tell her it's okay & she then says that I'm not to worry because she will cheer me up. She is bouncing on the bed with her arms wide open, smiling at me. I sit next to her & sit her on my knee & tell her how wonderful she is. She knows. I don't deserve such an amazing daughter, but I am thankful every day that I have her.

I know that I need to write, because it's a good therapy. I know that my laptop will get very wet in the process. I think about what I will say & I know that none of it makes any sense whatsoever. Then I start to imagine what a nut-job I must sound. I imagine the Man, whom I do not deserve one little bit, down the pub or wherever, with his friends who might have stumbled upon my post. I imagine what they would think. Or at least, what I think they would think.

"Proper looper mate, I'd stay well clear if I were you. You could do better."

I think that maybe they wouldn't say that. After all, I don't know them & the lesson of the day is not to assume, right? I know it's just me putting my own feelings about myself into someone elses mouth, but if I think it, then others are bound to, right? Just in case they did think that perhaps I shouldn't write about this. It is pretty mental after all. I cry for no reason & then I feel good about hurting myself. Maybe I should just call someone who can come & hold me, because that's all I really want. It's the second best therapy. Then no one else will have to know. But who? I am stood thinking about who might come all this way just to hug me because I'm too scared to write & then it hits me - when I'm well, I spend all my time insisting that people should open up; that the best therapy is talking; that others should not judge & though it is the reality that they do judge we should have no shame whatsoever in admitting how we feel & how this illness affects us yet still I am terrified of being judged. Terrified.

I am a massive hypocrite.

There is a long list of shit stuff that I believe I am. I am not prepared to add 'Hypocrite' to that. There isn't the room.

So, I sit & I write.

Fuck every single one of you that judges me, the joke is on you, because aside from when I'm being a proper looper, I am the most normal person I know. It takes knowing madness to enjoy sanity.

Day 7 of 366: Here Kitty, Kitty!

Today, Kitty got stuck up a rather large tree.

Have a lovely weekend folks!

Confessions of a Total Dick Head

Since finding myself responsible for not one, but two ever-needing & ever-wanting children it has become a daily ritual for me to have an extravagantly long shower, during which interruptions are completely ignored. Eldest whinging? Baby wailing? Not my problem. I should probably add that I make sure all their needs are met before showering, I don't just ditch them & run, so any complaints are simply attention based & can wait for half an hour.

Shower time is adult time (not like that), it is brain time, it is time for me to think. You know, like wot real people without kidz can do, init.

Usually shower time comes complete with it's own playlist. If my iPod were picked up by a stranger they'd be forgiven for thinking that it belonged to a woman in her mid forties rather than one in her early twenties (apart from a few give-away tracks) but that, my friends, is just how I roll.

Today I was listening to a spot of Beautiful South. The track that got me thinking was 'Prettiest Eyes'. It is one of my favourites. If you aren't familiar you can check it out here. It is basically a song from the perspective of someone who has been with a woman for 60 years. It got me pondering about the nature of relationships, particularly my own (of course) & wondering whether I'd ever experience long lasting love & security in the same way in which older generations, particularly my grandparents' generation seem to experience but which our society & culture seems not to allow room for.

Today, we are told that we have more freedom. We are told that we can have it all & we seek things like fairy-tale happiness, yet it seems to me that increasingly less people have long lasting, happy relationships. Do we set ourselves up for disappointment?

I look at my Mother's parents who have been married for 50 years, this year. They have always been happy, as far as I can tell. My Mum always tells of how she has never seen them argue. My Granny always tells her that that was because they never let her see them argue. This speaks volumes to me. Communication & honesty with each other & to yourself is key, there would be problems if you didn't occasionally quarrel but to find long-lasting happiness through this is exactly what I'd like for my future, but like anything in life, a relationship that lasts is something that requires hard-work & zeal from all involved & if there are children then it is important to think of their happiness first, as you would in all other aspects of life.

Looking at my mother, who is in her mid (to late, ahem) forties - & from whom my taste in music mainly comes - she is currently settled. When we talk about relationships she always jokes that she 'has been through quite a few men' to get to my step-father. I doubt she has been through as many as me, in my notably less years, though I never point this out to her! My Step-Father is, in my opinion (& I'm fairly sure in hers too) her perfect match. I love my Father, but I would never wish for my Mother to be with him. I was young when they divorced, only one year old, but I know in my heart that they aren't compatible, in fact I find it hard to imagine that they were ever a couple. My Step-Father & Mum have been together for about 15 years (I think), but they only married four years or so ago. For some reason I feel that there will never be any reason for them not to grow old together.

The example set by these people in my life is one that I find admirable & somewhat awe-inspiring. I want that for me & I hope that I am headed in the right direction. I have made mistakes. What I am about to share with you I have not shared with anyone outside of my circle of friends & I am certainly not proud, nor can I find any justification for my actions, but bear with me - it bears relevance & is only partly a selfishly placed confession.

My last relationship lasted about a year & a half & was with a guy who I had been acquainted with since college. He was very closed emotionally, but basically a nice, fun guy. I think that I fell in love with him, perhaps in hindsight not in a deep sense, but it was love nevertheless & he loved me too, but he was incapable of saying so. At first, 'the wall' was something that drew me to him - I have always liked a challenge - but as our relationship became more serious & we moved in together the very thing that drew me to him initially was what I came to resent. I couldn't break down 'the wall', not fully & I became increasingly insecure. It wasn't his fault, it was just how he was, but looking back I worry as to how he will ever truly be happy if he can't express such crucial emotions. We became more & more distant from each other. I think that we were both equally to blame for how the relationship deteriorated but the end came when I slept with somebody else. More than once. I'm not sure he even knows now that I was cheating, I wasn't big enough to own up to it, but he wasn't stupid. He left & that was that. I have never felt particularly sad that the relationship ended, it had most certainly run its course, but I feel ashamed that it took me such a cruel & selfish act to realise that it wasn't worth putting in the effort any more. I justified my actions at the time because I felt hurt & rejected, humiliated even, but it was always clear that I was, for want of a more eloquent phrase, just a total dick head.

My point is that I have been hurt & what is worse, I have hurt people along the way & though I feel remorse for some of the more selfish things I have done in the past, I don't regret them because I have always learned from my experiences. I have learned what I want to be in life (faithful, accomplished, hard-working, loved) & equally what I do not want to be (a total dick head).

I think what people lose sight of, in today's 'instant satisfaction' society is that a relationship, like anything, is something that requires input. People chase the dreams of looking beautiful, becoming rich or famous & having a fairytale love, but that simply isn't the case. I'm sure we all know the reasons for all these fucked-up delusions people of our generation suffer & the arguments as to why it is probably wrong yet so difficult to change, so I shan't drag it up, but I think that if we are consciously wanting to change something about ourselves for the better then what I have learned in my relatively few years of dating & loving is that to get more out of anything you must put more in, & what is more you must put it in to the right places. It is nothing profound, it is basic common sense, but I believe that it's something that from time to time, we can all lose sight of.

As for now, I feel very lucky. I have a relationship with someone who is worth every last scrap of effort. I also have two beautiful girls who deserve a happy upbringing, or at least a Mum who isn't a total dick head.

On Freedom & Lack of Plastic-Horse Related Injuries.

This week, Daughter is staying with my parents as we prepare for the supposedly imminent arrival of TBC & so we haven't seen her in over a week & if TBC doesn't [bloody well] get here soon then we shan't see her until Thursday at the earliest. At first the idea of peace, quiet & lay-ins was a blissful dream & I was relishing the time alone & the freedom to go wherever I pleased at whatever hour I wished, however after a few wonderful days of doing things like meeting a friend in pub, yes, a pub, & having a pint - a real sodding PINT! - with her & wandering as I pleased around trendy shops with no cries of "I neeeed a weeeee!" or "I'm hun-greeeeeeeee!" the novelty has worn off & as much as it pains me to admit it, I would rather have her here, whinging & all, than all this bloody peace & quiet. So I thought I'd share with you a few things that Daughter likes to say or do that usually drive me crackers, but that I inexplicably miss about her when she's not here.

1.

When I try to take a photo of how beautiful, sweet & charming she looks, a little like this...

...but because she is such a big fidget, you end up spending about 3 hours & taking several billion photos like this beforehand...

...& yes, that is a donkey she is licking.

2.

When we are in a public place & she says (at the top of her voice) things such as:

"Oh, Mummy, look at that man, he has a big, round, fat tummy! Like you!"

"No, Mummy, that's not a lady it's a man."

"Well, honestly, I just want to pick my bottom."

"Was that you pumping Mummy?" - please note, likely honest answer is no however I've found disputing this point can often lead to prolonged conversation regarding pumping, at increased volumes.

3.
The lack of housework there is to do. I know that as soon as she returns I'll retract this as a woe, but honestly, being around the house is so frigging boring. I feel as though I can keep the house tidy & have no excuse for not. At least when she's here if I can't be arsed to wash up I can blame having too much on to not do it & instead make a den out of a cardboard box or have a tickle fight. Now I have no excuse! It is nice not to nearly break my neck falling over train sets or standing on viciously shaped plastic animals, though.

4.
As much as I love silence, sometimes a nonsense conversation is wonderfully amusing. Now I have to be a grown up & do paperwork & things. I haven't been listening to Radio 4 at all as there is no need to balance out the 3 year-old-ness with vaguely informative & adult chatter.

5.
I miss her charm & her beautiful smile & the feeling of warmth I get when, after a day of complete horror, stubborness & avoidable tantrums (mainly mine, to be fair), she gives me a hug & a kiss & tells me she loves me & I melt.

I miss my Girly. Hurry up Baby.

Oh baby, I can groove..

It's Tuesday & this week I'm going to be much less tardy with my Grooving Mums post! Honest...

So, as you know I'm still joining in with Kate On Thin Ice's blog hop to get back my grooove...& though another bad week has occured I'm determined to focus on the positives.

This week Kate has set us a few challenges, the first of which is to think of your own challenge. Never one to be very good at motivating myself I am very tempted to set myself something sneaky like 'Eat copious amounts of curried pineapple in order to induce labour' but alas I think this is more of an inevitability rather than something I can count as challenging.

Recently I have realised that though I set up this blog to talk about my expanding family & keep track of all the lovely things we do, the focus has shifted, rather selfishly onto me & my personal struggle with pregnancy & though I do not want to stop blogging about how I feel, I think my challenge must be to put in some more posts about just how wonderful my beautiful daughter is. She is, after all, the reason I keep going & is soon to have a sibling who I will fall equally as in love with. Having said that, she isn't here for the week - freedom hurrah! but why do I miss her so? - but I'm aiming to try & compile a post about the great things we've done over the past few weeks.

Kate's second challenge is to investigate poetry & give an example of a poem you love. Though I do love literature, I often find poetry hard work & shy away, or I find that I get over-involved in poetry, as I do with songs, & then end up having nervous breakdowns. I was going to choose 'The Owl & The Pussy Cat' by Edward Lear, as it's a lovely nonesense rhyme & also what I would love to call the coffee shop I dream of one day owning, but instead I'm cheating. I'd like some lyrics from a song that I related a lot to when I was single, but actually now I think part of me relates to them even more, it also makes me think about #groovingmums too, particularly the verse beginning 'In the hours before breakfast...'. The singer is an Alaskan woman called Molly Venter & the song 'Sleep at Night' goes like this:

She steps outside and takes a breath
Like it's the last breath before she goes among the circus of performers
With smiles on their faces and she says
"I don't belong here, I don't belong here.".
Well she's marking off her checklist and making conversation
And forcing her smile today.
She cannot find a reason for her to be unhappy,
But suddenly she's lost for words to say.

And everybody feels like he doesn't belong among all the happy faces sometimes,
And everybody feels like he's the only one who can't sleep at night.

He hands her a strong drink, leans in too close for comfort
Before she can say goodbye.
Do you want to know a secret?
Learn to say "I love you." without needing to hear a reply.
Cause I have lost many friends,
There is only so much I can write in a letter
And if I had to do over again there is only one person I would have called
And now, finish your drink dear and I will walk you home,
Finish your drink dear and I will walk you home.

In the hours before breakfast with the boys
She is losing her patience, she is losing her poise.
I am tired, she thinks, and I'm late.
I don't remember warm weather, thanksgiving's not forever.
I used to work pretty damn hard and now I don't know where I lost my ambition
But I just want to wake up one morning and not worry about my dress size or my GPA
Or just how long it's been,
Just how long it's been.

And everybody feels like he doesn't belong among all the happy faces sometimes,
And everybody feels like he's the only one who can't sleep at night.

It's not until she walks out far from any street light she notices her hands are tied,
It's not until the wind stops that she knows by her own breath
She needs to be alone to sigh
And it's strange how thick silence feels in the air,
Oh and it's strange how thick silence feels in the air.

And everybody feels like... everybody feels like....

And I, I'll let you walk alone he says,
But I'd rather take you home to bed
And she thinks well it'd be so nice to go home with somebody,
Yes it'd be so nice to go home with somebody, tonight.

You can download it on iTunes, it really is an eerily beautiful & moving song from a little known but hugely talented musician.

Challenge number three is to dance. Well, I can tell you that I am so totally on it I think I've surpassed an entire weeks worth of dancing in an evening. As you may know I went to see the sexy men that call themselves the Red Hot Chili Peppers yesterday evening in Manchester & being 39 weeks pregnant did not hold me back. I bloody love that band & the were on fire & though I'm feeling the effects right now of over-exertion I had such a blast that I don't care! They played songs I've always wanted to hear live, dirty-funky-sexy-goodness. & we were so close too. Oh, it was just heaven for me!

Number four is to take part in a listography blog-hop. I can tell you that I am just not that interesting so I hope you are all ready to be disappointed but I'll get on with it at some point this week!

All in all, another crappy week but with some good bits that made it bearable. This week I shall mainly just be waiting on baby, too so I'll keep you all informed!

Keep grooving!

Lists are seriously frustrating to format.

I officially declare myself a Grooving Mum.

I know I’ve all ready written an intro but this post will be my list of goals (please note – list likely to be changed, removed, revised or set on fire at any time) that I’d like to achieve within the next 12 months or so.

Because I am currently 37+ weeks pregnant, I have decided that the most sensible thing to do is to set myself some short term aims – i.e. little things to do or change before the baby or when the baby first arrives – as well as a few bigger ambitions, & things about myself that I know will take longer to change.

I shall get straight to the point, as I have had a rather rough day – to my dismay after almost an entire week of feeling well – and I’d like to post about the Halloween activities Daughter & I got up to in the last few days when I’m in a better frame of mind!

So, here goes…

Short Term Goals:

1. Ensure that I have a safety-net should I end up suffering from PND when the baby arrives by:
   
   • Making a crisis plan, as suggested by Community MH Worker.
   • Ensuring I am as honest as I possibly can with my Man & my family if needs be – this is something I have struggled with recently & am still reluctant through fear of burdening others unnecessarily.
   • Taking steps to be healthy – eat well & keep my mind active so as to get into a better routine with a view to keeping this up once the baby arrives.
2. Sort out my ridiculously out of control finances in order to create stability for me & for my family – I dislike talking to people over the phone & therefore must man-up a bit & take charge of the situation instead of becoming a nervous wreck & avoiding these things.
3. Enjoy the final few weeks of my pregnancy, without feeling any guilt for outing my feet up & having things done for me.
4. Do more things I enjoy & stop worrying about others – take pleasure in making for Christmas, & share my achievements.
5. More face masks & chocolate.

Long Term Goals (Post-Baby & New Year):

1. Take care of my body – start running again, then possibly swimming when the hotter weather comes. Lovely endorphins, yes please!
2. Keeping up with the healthy eating routine that I will hopefully have established pre-baby. Not weighing myself but ensure I’m not too skinny for my clothes & feel well in myself.
3. Settle Daughter into a new nursery & set up a good routine for her, baby & myself.
4. Take time & research the possible careers I could have when the baby gets to nursery age. Work towards achieving something that will empower me, as well as fit around family commitments.
5. Hone my writing skills, so that all my blog-posts aren’t quite as dreary as this one seems so far! Seriously – take time to educate myself in writing & possibly other things that interest me. Get the cogs turning again.
   
   
   So, these are my goals thus far. As I say, I may revise them or (more likely) set fire to them. Currently my main focus is being well in every sense when the baby turns up. I’m truly terrified again this week. I can’t see many ways that I’ll keep sane, particularly after the New Year, but making this list today has certainly helped me. I’ve got good feeling about my Grooving Mums adventure & I certainly hope that I don’t bore you all to death in the weeks to come. I’m also totally looking forward to keeping up with everyone’s stories too.
   
   Ooh & I almost forgot - as requested by Kate this week I am including a pic of my in my Halloween glory, from this weekend. Looking totally un-pregnant (but trust me - it's all there) & I was actually feeling bloody brilliant too, though I am mostly always self-conscious of photos, hence the expression:
   
   

   
   
   
   Wish me luck!

Green Grocers Should Not Give Parental Advice.

It is 7.43pm & I am sat in bed by way of protest. I am typing each letter with defiance. My laptop is asking me to stop being quite so brutal. No, I tell it:

I am in protest.

What are you in protest of?

I am in protest - I say proudly - of...well...of everything. Downstairs is a mess. I know I have to tidy it before the Man's brother-in-law comes with our new sofa tomorrow - I say petulantly - but right now I am in protest & so I shall not be tidying it until later. & yes, I know that I have to fill in that form that I promised the Man I'd fill in (the one I have been avoiding for no reason) but he is not home until midnight & I shall not be filling it in until later & besides which I do not have an envelope big enough to post it anyway so I will have to wait until tomorrow to get one. So there.

Oh. What's that you're eating?

I am eating brioche, in protest - I say.

In protest of what?

I am eating brioche by way of protest against the horrific heartburn I currently have. It has become so bad that I cannot drink anything warmer than luke-warm & each gulp of food feels like a fiery golf ball when it reaches the part between my boobs but I am eating this brioche because it is tasty & I want to.

Yes, I think I have gone mad.

It all started with a bath, in which I was given time to think about things. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. I am irritable & I thought that a bath & time to churn over & settle a few thoughts in my mind would help - alas, it has not. It has, for some inexplicable reason, turned me into my petulant 3 year old Daughter.

There were two things that I realised, that are now bugging me. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The first comes from reading those little online baby things that tell you where you are at with your pregnancy each week - how big your baby is by measurement of fruit or veg for some inexplicable reason (does a green-grocer write these?), what you should be doing to make it a super-genius & what ailments should currently be plaguing you at this moment in time.

A few weeks back the Man was reading one of these aloud, as he likes to, & it mentioned something in the 'Ideas for Dad' section (normally full of mundane advice such as 'take out life insurance' or 'give her a foot-rub') that has stuck in my brain ever since. It said something along the lines of this:

Dad, have you tried the 'Guess the body part' game yet? - as though it's a frigging well known game? Pish - Baby is moving a lot now & though Mum now can determine an elbow from a knee why not have fun by feeling Mum's tum & trying to guess for yourself!

Well, I can tell you it didn't stick in my mind just because it sounded like a total hoot (ahem), no it stuck because I actually had no idea as to which body-parts bulged out of my stomach. & it's not like they don't bulge, I mean they really do. It's like it's trying to break out, Alien styley, & sometimes it hurts!  Ever since I have found myself frustratedly trying to decipher which bit of my bump is a head or a leg or a bum (all this made ten times worse by the fact that Daughter was breech so I am completely obsessed with whether this one is going to turn the right way or whether they might have to cut me open again) & I can't tell. So, in my mind, this makes me one or both of two things:

a) Stupid
or
b) A useless mother to my unborn child

&, if I'm honest, I'm not sure which is worse!

Okay, so I know, I know I am being over-sensitive about this & that there are obviously deeper issues here, but it really makes me think that the green-grocers who write this baby-twaddle & Crap Ideas for Dad should just stick to the 'be nice, avoid her wrath & make sure the money is coming in, two pound for that bunch of bananas' tack. Don't invent tedious games that insult half of the mothers who are paranoid about which way around there baby is laying. Don't torment me, follow your own mundane advice - avoid my wrath, make my partner give me back-rubs (he's not going near my feet) & tell him to leave all his money to me, should I kill him in frustration!

Seriously, pregnant women are sensitive & will be driven to bed & brioche in protest [of nothing] in a second, so be careful what you say!

Oh, & the second thing I realised when I was in the bath was that the bath edges needed re-sealing. I got out swiftly after this second realisation.

Grooving Mums

So, I have a had a very up & down week this week. As I've mentioned, it really scares me just how up & down I can be. Some mornings I can wake up numb & end up having a wonderful day, other days I could wake up with a positive outlook only to bomb out spectacularly in a wave of tears or anxiety.

I need to get this under control.

I've never really been a stable person anyway, but I have always managed to muddle by one way or another.

Today & yesterday have been unexpectedly good days. I feel cured. I can barely remember why on earth I have felt so miserable recently & find myself wondering what all the fuss was about. There is nothing wrong with me. Unfortunately, I know that this isn't true & I know from recent experience that this feeling probably won't last forever (but I would not complain if it should) & so I have to make the most of this mindset while it lasts.

I am currently on the brink of changing things. After seeing my GP a few weeks ago I have had an initial appointment with a member of my local Community MH Team. I had very mixed feelings about the appointment. She asked me lots of standard questions as we went through a questionnaire & while I initially felt it was comprehensive & positive I soon began to stumble over my replies & didn't feel that I adequately expressed myself to her & by the end of the session I felt as though I had not given her a realistic view of myself. I write it better than I say it. Always have, probably always will. In the hours & days that followed I kept remembering things I had missed out or realising I had said things that could easily have been misconstrued.

She had said that she would go away & write up a report which she would share with some sort of team (by this time I wasn't really taking much in - my concentration is shot at the best of times) but she did say that she would arrange for me to see a consultant as she felt that I wasn't entirely convinced on her initial verdict of low moods caused by anxiety. She was right, I feel that the anxiety is only present occassionally due to my actions or inactions brought on by low mood. I feel crap first & then I do nothing & worry about having done nothing.

Anyway, the point of me telling you all this is my discovery of a blog-hop called Grooving Mums via the wonderful platform that is Twitter (I am now addicted & spend far too much time tweeting crap).

Basically, this is a group of blogging mums who feel they would like to change something about themselves, big or small & their accounts of how they are doing this. Kate [on Thin Ice] explains it all here.

So, over the next few days I am going to think of five attainable goals for myself (I have accepted - sort of - that I am not, nor am I ever going to be a Super-Mum) & try to keep weekly updates for you all to read how I am doing.

I'm terrified of bombing out on this - I have a history of being useless - but I have all ready heard from some lovely, lovely Grooving Mums which has been inspiring & heartwarming.

Here's to getting my groove back.

On Mammaries & Memories of Who I Am

I’m sat in the middle of the floor of my baby’s nursery as I write this. Behind me is the bed of the crib that was once mine, then my daughter’s & is now theirs. To my left are the legs of the crib, half painted & still wet. In front  of me is a brand new wooden high chair which currently seats Daughter’s dolly (adorned in oversized swimsuit, previously belonging to Daughter herself), some Johnson’s Baby Lotion which I shall never use as I prefer organic & ethical products & a hand-me-down plastic baby toy in suitably garish colours. Also in the room is a large cot, again, once belonging to Daughter; a beautiful new moses basket (my proudest & most unnecessary purchase); a new chest of drawers, too small to actually hold all the clothes & bibs we seem to have acquired; an electric breast pump; various baby bottles; a steam steriliser & all that other paraphernalia associated with a new baby.

I often come in & sit in this space, to try & familiarise myself with the room or just basically in an attempt to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to be a mother - again.

There will be a new baby in here in less than five weeks.

I can say this over & over but still it has not sunk in.

Earlier I took my shiny electric breast pump out of its box, read the instructions, dismantled & reconstructed it & stared at it for a while. Last time I had a manual one which was such a pain in the arse that I promised myself an electric one this time around – a lady of leisure with all my fancy baby gadgets & all that jazz. As I dismantled the pump again I felt a pang of excitement which was immediately followed by a wave puzzlement. 

When on earth did I go from being a [not so] cool, wild party girl who got rared up by a free shot of Sambuca from the handsome gentleman at the cheap bar, followed by a dance with the cheap gentleman from the handsome bar – or was it the other way around? That Sambuca had gone to my head – to being thrilled at the prospect of not having to manually extract the milk from my mammaries? Thrilled is perhaps too strong a word, but you see my point nevertheless?

If you have read any of my previous posts you will realise that I haven’t been coping with this pregnancy well & that I am finding it hard to be thrilled by anything at the moment, but I do feel happy that I am not completely detached & I am beginning to realise that maybe doing what makes it easier for me & by buying all this fancy but slightly unnecessary stuff will actually help me to cope better when the baby is here. I also think that it is going to be about finding a balance between the partying & the pumping.

I don’t want to lose sight of who I am, or who I can be. 

At the moment I am far too round to dance for more than 10 minutes without having to stagger to the nearest seating area & have a bit of a rest but that’s just pregnancy & I must accept this. It’s not going to last forever. In fact it’s going to last for five more weeks, maximum. I am 22. I am not past it by any means, I started young & therefore I have a head start in that I have the whole of my life to achieve the things I didn’t achieve when I was 18 & pregnant. I may spend my nights wakeful or sobbing & I may feel as though I have failed because I didn’t live my life in the order that my friends & peers lived theirs but I still have time. Sometimes I find it very difficult to remember this. Sometimes my insecurities bog me down & I do stupid things & think stupid thoughts & become so absorbed in myself or in my own sadness that I forget.

Pregnancy is not forever & hopefully shall be without stretch marks.

My life after pregnancy will be just as it was before – juggling motherhood, my mammaries & responsibilities with a career (we hope), sexy shoes & a lot of dancing (though possibly not with strange men).

I could do it before, even when I was a single mum, so surely even though I have an extra sprog the presence of a man evens that out?

It’ll all be okay – I just have to remind myself of that sometimes.

57 sodding bibs.

I am sick of white baby clothes.
I am sick of beige baby clothes.
I am sad that there is no room in the drawers for the clothes I am so looking forward to buying when we know whether it is he or she.

There are plenty of unisex things available that are not white or beige so why have a got so much of this stuff?!

& why have I got 57 bibs?!

& why have I got 468 size one nappies that I didn't buy?! (I've done the maths - use 5 a day & that'll still last over 3 months, I hope it doesn't grow too quickly & poos a lot)

People are so generous & I feel entirely ungrateful, but I seem to be drowning in a sea of baby things that I don't remember asking for & that I probably won't use! It just seems so wasteful when there are people much more needing out there.

I like things to be kept to a minimum - just a few lovely things, as well as the basics of course. I know that babies are puke & poo machines. I know that we'll need a lot of stuff that will take the puke & poo. Honest, I know this cos I've all ready had one but it really is just too much now! I feel genuinely overwhlemed by it all!

Apologies for excessive use of exclamation marks, it's just all a bit much...

57 sodding bibs, indeed.

I bloody love Christmas me - though not usually in October!

Today, after three hours of travelling on trains (more on that & the rude commuters of Britain later), I finally have got round to making some Christmas bits & bobs. I have spent the last hour or so snipping & sewing & it feels good! (With the exception of an aching back - so blog & dinner break happening now!)

Here's a quick sneak peek at what kind of things I'll be making. Goodness knows if I'll sell anything - craft fair tomorrow & I plan on popping some of these lovelies on the Little Pea Green Etsy Shop - but if not it'll save me making more for our own tree!

Last week I was sat in our living room, minding my own business when I suddenly got a subtle sniff of something like a pine scent. I think it was the faint aroma coming from a little lavender bag which Daughter had found & claimed as her own for a while but was now stuffed down the back of the sofa & forgotten, but my brain was obviously in a jovial mood & so interpreted this as a whiff of festivity. I became overwhelmingly excited about the impending arrival of winter & the festive season. I cannot wait to see the living room transformed with bunting & decorations (I am quite the traditionalist so lots of rustic reds, greens & golds); for the scent of the tree & the excitement as the presents build up beneath it; for the cursing every time someone kneels down & gets pine needles angrily poked into their knees; for an open fire roaring during the day & then it's embers gently roasting chestnuts on an evening; to buy pointless & rich foods & to gorge on them with absolutely no shame, just pure revelry, swilling it all down with a slug of Irish cream liqueur or a hot coffee cheekily spiked with a shot of brandy, whatever the time of day.

I could go on forever & ever about the best bits of Christmas but, this year, the thing I cannot wait to have our brand new family in the midst of all this toasty-warmth & cosiness.

I bloody love Christmas, me. Even the cheesy songs.

P.S. - apologies for getting so excited so soon, I don't usually do such silly things but I am due to have a baby in one month & as I am prescribing myself one month of focusing on nothing but the baby & sleep everything like this is getting pushed forward one month, so I am living as though it were the 17th November! Therefore I find this festive fanaticism is entirely justified!