Parenting & Compromise

Recently, I've been grappling with the issue of compromise in many aspects of my life.

The aspect that I have found compromise the most tricky is parenting.

Having spent the majority of my eldest daughter's life as a single parent &, though my daughter hardly sees her father, sharing a general view of what is acceptable & what is not for our daughter's upbringing has made me feel confident that I have got it right. She's always been generally well behaved, happy & smart & I have been proud of the job that I have done.

I suited single parent-dom because I was doing exactly what I believed was right by her & had no one interfering. I would say that I was always firm but fair. Or at least I'd hope so.

If she had done something good then she would be rewarded & if she'd done wrong then she would be punished accordingly. Though naturally I don't like to see her upset I had no qualms about withdrawing privileges, sitting her in the naughty corner for as long as necessary or even smacking hands & very rarely bums should it be appropriate. I have to say I hate the bum-smacking but I would only ever do it when absolutely necessary - &, more to the point, it worked. I don't believe that children should be seen & not heard or anything like that but I do believe that they should respect their elders & recognise when they can be playful or cheeky & when they need to do as they are told.

Other rules I had as a single parent were things such as only being allowed chocolate or sweets as a treat & certainly not on a daily basis. No noisy toys was a big rule - partly to do with my sanity, but mainly because I believe that toys that do everything for a child don't actually inspire imagination or creativity, in fact research has proven this. Wooden toys have always been a favourite with us as they are so durable & inspiring to a young mind. We didn't have a TV so she would watch things on iPlayer as a treat from time to time (but she's never been the type to want to sit in front of the TV all day every day anyway) & this did us just fine.
I want the best for her, that goes without saying & I think that children should learn to value what they have so I always bought her good quality & - though we were not on a high income, so I bought things to last - usually fairly expensive clothes & playthings etc. We ate mainly organic food, because this is part of my lifestyle & she would eat what I ate - salad, risotto, curry etc. - & things like beans on toast would be a treat.

Now, things are very different.

I still feel as though I uphold the 'firm but fair' parenting style. I am a little less patient than I used to be & for that I feel guilty but other than that I still think she is on the whole well behaved. But since moving in with my other half & now that we have a daughter together things have got a little more tricky. I have had to compromise on some things, but on the whole I feel that my wishes for the girls get lost.

My partner's family are incredibly generous, kind & loving people. I'm lucky to have such a wonderful set of in-laws but on the whole it seems we are very different. Christmas & birthdays (& generally any other excuse to give something) are occasions where gifts are given in a huge abundance, the likes of which I have never encountered & I feel very overwhelmed by it all. I'm not a huge gift giver - I believe in giving thoughtful & meaningful gifts where possible & would spend more money on something that the recepient wouldn't usually get rather than on a lot of everyday things that aren't really going to last.

Since moving in together my eldest daughter's toy collection has tripled, at least & her clothes collection has never been so far departed from what I would choose for her. What is more, her room is stuffed full of things 18 months ago she would never have known about, let alone would I have allowed her to have. I hate to sound so ungrateful but all this stuff is stuff that frankly I don't want her to have - stuff that I don't believe children need - but what can I do?

It seems like such a huge waste to be giving it away or selling it not to mention just plain rude but I feel as though my ideals are suffocating under a mountain of stuff. How far do I 'compromise' before it actually becomes just giving in?

Not only does this all go against how I believe my daughters should be raised but it goes against what her father & his family believes. Though my partener's family treat my eldest the same as they would our youngest daughter, should they have any hold over how I raise my eldest daughter anyway, as they aren't actually related? & though she doesn't see her father often & he doesn't actually contribute does that mean that he has no say?

The question of my youngest daughter is slightly different, but then there is the question of whether me treating my daughters differently because they have different fathers isjustified by the situation.

It is a minefield, to say the least.

The long & short of it is that, without meaning to sound rude or ungrateful - I certainly am grateful for everything my in-laws have done for us & for them being so kind & helpful & warm towards us (& I'm sure they must think that I could do some things differently or better, though they never say as much) - I am not raising my children the way I want to raise them.

I feel lost & I feel trapped.

I feel as though my opinions don't count.

& that's not fair.. is it?

Or is that compromise?

Elation

When I was pregnant with my second baby I felt so detached from the whole process; so differently from my first glorious, glowing pregnancy that I worried so often that I would still feel no connection to the baby when he or she was placed on my chest for the first time. I couldn't comprehend just how I would be able to love another living creature as much as I loved my daughter. I couldn't imagine feeling that completeness of emotion be shared between two.

Now, as I sit, as I so often do - or at least as often as I get the opportunity - with my youngest daughter clasped firmly to my chest, her head resting against my cheek & her face full of innocence, laced with curiosity, yet somehow looking on with the dignified silence of someone with immeasurable wisdom - I wonder why that should be? - I feel, still, complete. I do not feel as though my love has been shared or stretched, I feel as though it has simply grown, yet all the while nothing has been taken from me. In fact I feel as though more has been given to me. 'Love' does not sum up what I feel for her & for her elder sister. 'Love' doesn't even touch upon it.

Elation.

Her fine flash of downy auburn hair against my cheek is the softest sensation I have ever felt & when I move my face to bury my mouth & nose into her scalp her scent is one so delicious & complex - one that tells me she is made of me. It is different to that of my eldest daughter in a thousand ways yet somehow the same.

As I hold her, in whichever position she is pressed against me it feels as though she fits. I was made to carry her & she was made to be held by me, first inside & now out.

Everything about both my daughters is love. I feel incredibly humbled by the love they have for me as well as the feelings that encompass me when I have them near to me & the anxieties I feel when I don't.

It is not enough to say that they are my world, but I cannot describe it any other way.

They are my world, & everything more.

Babies Cry

This morning was my morning for a lie in. The Man has a day off today & so it was his job to get up with the noisy baby one. We're having a bit of 'peace & quiet' (a purely relative term) as Eldest is at my Mother in Law's for a few days.

As I laid in bed about 8am, drifting in & out of sleep because I could hear the baby girl crying downstairs as the Man prepared her bottles I was suddenly woken by a BANG BANG on the wall.

Did the neighbours just bang on the wall?


No, they wouldn't have. Would they?

This was followed by muffled voices. A woman in an annoyed tone & a man's voice in what sounded like a reasoning tone.

Oh my god, they did bang on the wall.


They must think I neglect my baby.

Granted, given all the depression bullshit, I have trouble getting to sleep on an evening & so some mornings baby girl will have been crying for 15-20 minutes as I wake.

Shit. How do I explain this to them? I'm not a child abuser, I'm just tired.


& besides, she's been ill for the past few days.


Good lord I must explain this to them at once! I mean, they don't have kids.. what if they can't have kids & they get woken up every morning by our baby crying? Are the walls that thin? What if they've recently lost a baby? What if they hate kids & we're here bugging them with our reproductive prowess? What if it's been building up & up & up & they just can't take it any more...?


God, are we inconsiderate knobheads?

As I mulled this over, thinking of writing them a letter or going round to explain or apologise & getting increasingly upset I realised I should probably go & tell the Man. He always knows what to do.

I told him what had happened & what I was worrying about & at once he dispelled all my anxieties in a simple statement.

"Well, even if that is so.. it's not our fault. Babies cry."

Oh yeah. Babies do cry. Quite loudly sometimes. & as for depression, that's not my fault either.

Oh.

& then I got to thinking...

Maybe they were wound up & tired, or maybe they do have problems or maybe they are just first class twats. But whatever the situation, they didn't give the amount of thought or worry I gave to them when they banged on the wall this morning. They probably didn't think: 'Well, what if she's depressed? or what if the baby is ill? or what if the baby just cries on a morning because it's a baby?'

I should have just friggin' well banged back & not given a toss, but then maybe that would make me like them.

So my baby cries.

She's happy, healthy, loved & cared for, but she cries & sometimes I'm tired.

So you can just about bloody well sod off.

Inconsiderate knobheads.

Sausage Rolls & Small Domestic Fires

Yesterday, our baby girl did her first roll from back to front! Amazing! & all the excitement before 9am. That is unheard of in our house, mainly because I'm not usually coherent before 10am.

I thought we had peaked in the excitement stakes & was all ready to sit back & enjoy a day of blissful boringness, maybe pop to the shops if it didn't rain but unbeknownst to me, as I stepped out of the shower & came down to the smell of burning all was about to get a little frenzied.

After a slight panic that one child had perhaps set the other alight I checked on both. One safely tucked up in her cot & one enthralled in a game of 'not setting anything on fire'. I assumed the smell was coming from outside. I continued getting dressed & then stuck my head out of the window just to check. Nope. No burning. It was stronger now inside & smelled plasticy.

It was coming from under the stairs where we store shit & kindling & the such & where the fuse box is.

Oh dear.

It was the fuse box. It was MELTING.

I turned off the switches in a panic with a broom handle - I remember all those dodgy safety videos from school, where a bloke is mowing his lawn & the wire to the mower all at once & that kid eagerly trying to retreive his kite from a pylon (ignoring all the DANGER OF DEATH signs), don't fuck with electricity! - & got the stuff together to take the girls out of the house. As we left the house it started chucking it down. At least it was the right weather for the house burning down. I couldn't reach my OH (who had the landlords number) & as I got soggier & chillier the only thought that crossed my mind was, what every responsible & mature adult would have thought in this situation: FML.

A mocha & a muffin from Starbucks later & the situation wasn't as soggy as it had been 30 minutes earlier. The OH had come home from work & we'd found the number for the electrician (though landlords are still blissfully ignorant that their dodgy wiring nearly burned down their house).

All in all this just makes me glad that we are moving this July. Though it's not ideal, hopefully I shan't have to panic for too long about the same thing happening again.

And, at the rate she's going today, if there are any more problems, baby girl will be rolling out of danger like a speeding sausage-roll. She can't half go...

...most of the time, anyway!

Money, Power & Love.

They say that money is power, but is this true in our relationships?

I don't work. I stay home & look after the children. My other half goes to work 5 days a week & he too pays the rent & bills most months. He offers us security & in turn I [very occasionally] do a bit of dusting & cook nightly. Oh, & raise the children. I do contribute where I can but on the whole I feel powerless. I really do. I'm rarely sane.

We are in a loving relationship, we are happy, so why does the financial security that my partner provides for us cause me such emotional insecurity?

Is this my personal issue, or do lots of stay at home parents feel this way? He gives up the money he would usually spend on DVDs or whatever else it is 20 something men buy, as well as some of his social freedom. He's given up relaxing evenings for hectic bedtimes. I was all ready used to hectic bedtimes & no money to spare for myself, but I have given up my independence, the freedom to think only of myself & my children &, thinking about it, have changed my entire life. I don't get to interact with adults every day. My brain turns to mush. I think that we both give a lot, but I feel as though I have lost a lot more. Control & sanity being the two main casualties.

Can I change this?

If I have a job, & so money, will this be power?

You Probably Shan't Go To The Ball, But What Does That Matter?

I heard today that some mothers want to ban their children from reading such stories as Cinderella. Though I can see wherer they're coming from - poor down-trodden Cinders does all the housework but in end is unrealistically rewarded with man, money blah blah... - to me, banning ancient stories is madness.

It's fair to say that I think the whole 'Disney Princess' bullshit that my daughter so loves is wrong, in many ways. Disney has a lot to answer for. The shallow ideals of the stories, all the tat merchandise that is bought, making her think she is beautiful because she looks like any one of these characters. I'm all for her learning through roleplay & makebelieve but where do I draw the line? Yeah, I do wish I could stop it sometimes & I do my best to limit it. She is beautiful as she is, a pretty little girl in her little girl dresses. Children are innocent & they should remain so for as long as possible, in my opinion. Of course I'm not saying you should not educate your children in the ways of the world, but you must allow them the freedom to enjoy their childhood for as long as they need & for as long as is appropriate. Isn't that what we all want for out children? But is controlling what they are exposed to allowing them full enjoyment of childhood? I suppose that would entirely depend on what society lobs their way.

I detest the way in which our society encourages adults & children alike to buy into all this bullshit & think that being as grown up & beautiful & unrealistically successful is what they should strive for. For Christmas this year, at the tender age of three my daughter received presents of make up. I was appauled. But why should I be? I wear make up, I conform to society's expectations of me & I feel bad when I go out in public with bad skin & no face on. It is a fact of society & though I would like to change it, I cannot & so I do conform to an extent. This is not to say that I am a pacifist, far from it, but all this comes from somewhere. We want to look good in order to find a mate & reproduce, like many other creatures on this planet & this is our way of doing it & we have to accept this to a degree, however I do believe that there is way too much pressure on women & increasingly on men too to look unnaturally good & to live their lives in a certain, plastic way. Pressure to mutilate our bodies in order to please others. This is a step too far & I am afraid that it stems from an exposure to media from an early age. There is nothing I can do to stop the pressure that will inevitably be put onto my girls, but I can limit how they are exposed to it - we never owned a TV until we moved in with my OH, but even so, the girls hardly watch it. Maybe once a week, if that. They hardly want to either, but that is not to say they don't enjoy what they do watch. Sometimes I feel as though I should control what others buy the girls too but unfortunately I cannot, without being a dickhead about it - & what kind if example would that set? There is a fine line.

What I can do is provide them with the knowledge, love & example they need to become strong individuals in the future. This is what I strive to do anyway. I will paint Eldest's fingernails occasionally, if I am doing mine - its fun & she enjoys showing off - & I will be teaching her how to cook & do the laundry (hell, the sooner she learns the sooner it saves me a job!) but equally I'll be teaching her how to put up a shelf & change a washer in a tap (notably these are things that I can do but my OH can't. Just saying...) & all these things I would do regardless of the sex of my children.

The point that I am trying to make in a very round about way is that banning our children from these things is all very well, but where is the faith in our own skills as parents? Where is the faith in our children's intelligence? Faith that they will grow up & work out, as we have, that life isn't like a fairytale? Just because life is not so, it doesn't mean we can't enjoy whimsical tales of princesses, ogres, & kingdoms far, far away. The most important thing we can do for our precious ones is to allow them their enjoyment, giving them as much stimulation in all aspects of life & play for now & equip them with the skills, information & example they need to make their own decisions about the big bad world. Surely?

As I type, my eldest is playing at soft play, wearing a builders hat. That's my girl!

As for banning Cinders, well the unimaginative, westernised Disney bollocks...

...I couldn't give a toss about to be entriely honest, but I grew up with this beautiful version. One of the many childhood books & illustrations that fired my creative passions:

Now that, my friends, is what a handsome prince should really look like.

All in all, I think as long as we do our jobs correctly as parents, girls & boys can enjoy a wealth of traditional & contemporary stories. There is no harm in that.

Trapped in a box with two kids & my own sanity

For the past three months or so, I have spent almost 24 hours of every day with someone - be that with my children, partner, friends. When I think about this it scares me. A lot.

I am the kind of person who loves to be solitary. Don't get me wrong, there are a few nights a week where my partner works late & when the kids are in bed I am technically left to my own devices, however I have no choice but to stay in the house & it frustrates me that I can't even pop to the shops or go for a run. I often feel very trapped & therefore it is increasingly difficult for me to appreciate these evenings.

I envy my partner who has his car journeys to work & his freedom throughout the day. I envy him to the point that I almost resent him & this scares me.

My latest pregnancy was a shock to us to say the least. I was happy in my job & with my life in general when I found out. I did know that I would have to find a new job anyway, regardless of the pregnancy but because I was pregnant this swayed my decision to take something part time rather than the full time hours I'd previously enjoyed. We also had to move in together & this meant that I went from being fully independent to almost fully dependent on him.

I feel so angry that, though I love my children & appreciate the time I get to spend with them I am now left with no independence, money or sanity & that I have no choice but to be a full time mum. It isn't my partner's fault but it isn't my fault. Society & it's expectations of women plays a small part though generally this situation was unavoidable, so why do I still feel so angry & resentful about the whole deal?

All I wish for is a little more flexibility & freedom. My partner works long hours & we don't have any family close by. I constantly feel as though I am trapped & am going out of my mind. I often feel as though the only way out is to not be here any more - my logic being if I can't appreciate my role in life as a mother fully then what good am I to them? - but this shouldn't be the case. I see a Care Coordinator who helps me with the 'mental' side of my problems, & occasionally go to baby groups (which help so far as they get me out of the house but do not offer me any real sanity of freedom), but is there any real practical support for women like me? Is there no recognition of the needs of working families, particularly so far as support for fathers who may wish or need to help out at home? If not, why not? I'm sure that I am not alone in thinking that if fathers were allowed to support their partners more, should they need to, then a lot of women's sanity & well-being could be saved, a lot of time could be saved by health professionals & even relationships could be saved.

What the hell can I do?

On Losing My Footing & The Climb Ahead

This time last year I was single & working (fairly) hard. I was the manager of a cafe, & felt more or less on top of life, except that I had nobody to share it with & tended to eat a lot of cake instead. These were things I was working on, though strangely my weight wasn't much of a knock on my confidence - I had some very pretty dresses, & was very 'out there' in said pretty dresses. I'd joined match.com & had had some dates. It was all pretty fun but I definitely remember hungering for more than carrot cake. In a very cliched way I wanted to love & to be loved. It was all I could really think about & I imagined it would be a long & arduous journey to hunt down a man of worth.

It was around this time that I decided to enrol on a climbing course. Though I was mainly motivated by the fact that it was always something I had wanted to try but never got round to, I have to admit that I had half-jokingly expressed the idea that I might date a man who was courageous & bold - ie a mountaineer. In hindsight someone had clearly been spiking the chocolate cake, but who was I to know?

I went to the classes with my good friend, & then boss, L, & enjoyed it thoroughly on the climbing front, though our instructor was disappointingly skinny & boyish, not at all heroic. Never mind.

I never got to finish the course, though a few weeks later I met (via match) a man who I would soon fall for, who would love me & who I could love without any fear. Though he wasn't a mountaineer, he was, & is, everything I had wished for, not in the particular form I had imagined, but in every form I have needed. If it was a crap novel he would be 'the one'.

Fast forward to today. I live with 'the one' & what is more we have a precious baby girl. Not long after we met, we 'fell pregnant'. I'm not sure how you 'fall' pregnant but that's what happened. I fell in love & then I fell pregnant. Next I sort of fell off the face of the earth. After all that falling I'm now attempting to do a bit of climbing, back into the world & to become the woman I was a year ago. After finding love so easily I had no idea that all that stuff I previously had & finding my footing in the crevasse between family life & adult life would actually hardest things to achieve.

Its all about finding strength & balance, being agile & enduring the particularly tough bits as well as having good mental control.

I suppose the point is that it is easy to think 'What is life, if you have nobody to share it with?' but we should also bear in mind the thought 'What is love, if you have nothing to share?'

Day 7 of 366: Here Kitty, Kitty!

Today, Kitty got stuck up a rather large tree.

Have a lovely weekend folks!

Day 6 of 366: One Small Step for Woman

Today is exactly 6 weeks since I gave birth to our little baby girl. Today is also the day I decided to start running again. Before my pregnancy I took up running mainly because I was getting a bit on the porky side & being single I had nothing better to do. To my utter surprise, it worked for me - at least in that it made me feel great & I soon got to the point where I loved to go & would do extra laps with ease. Then I got tonsilitis & was laid up in bed for a few days. During these few days I also decided to take a pregnancy test, which came out positive.

I was ill & pregnant & that was my fitness ruined. Apart from one experimental run whilst pregnant (it was horrible, all I could feel was the weight of the baby) I haven't done any exercise since & have been absolutely dying to get back to it, not particularly for my figure, but more for my mental health & my skin (as you'll see!)

Today I ran 1.6 miles in 22 minutes. The Man, (who is a Fitness Manager - whatever that means...he works in a gym!) says that is good considering, though I think he's just being nice, but whatever the case I feel like I need to collapse, but in a good way. Another step on the road to being a Groovy Mum!

Day 3 of 366: Simple Things

Today was a day of immense achievement

Quite simply, Eldest Daughter & I accomplished my childhood ambition of making an EPIC train track.

Simple things.

Damn Sentimental Me.

Happy New Year one & all! Has 2012 been off to a good start for you this year? Or perhaps you are nonplussed - do you celebrate an alternative New Year? I'd love to hear.

For me, I don't find that I become overly reflective with the passing of a year but I always note how much has changed. This year, like many others has been a jam-packed one for me. It seems that I'm destined to live my life in the fast lane, as it were. So much happens from year to year I can hardly keep up.

I saw in 2011 in the company of some wonderful friends. I was single & surrounded by couples. I was pretty drunk & had a lot of fun dancing like an idiot on the 'slippy floor' of my favourite friend's dining room.

This year I was in the company of a wonderful friend, my other half & some of his lovely friends. I obviously am very un-single now, & furthermore, we have a gorgeous new addition to our family. We were all pretty sober & spent the evening eating crisps & chocolate in our living room.

I'm not one for resolutions - as I've mentioned in previous posts I'm bloody useless at keeping them - but I think that the beginning of a year offers the chance to plan ahead. This year I am looking forward to spending time with the children: watching them grow; enjoying our time (in between tellings-off & naughty-step placement) & most of all just being Mummy.

An important journey that I embarked upon last year & shall be continuing on this year is one regarding my mental health. I've been suffering from anxiety & the subsequent depression which has been ruling my life for the past year or so. It was only about half way through that I realised that it was a real problem. I thought for years that this feeling was just me being a fuck-up, not being able to be like other people. I just thought it was how I was, it never occurred to me that there may be help - a solution.

Since opening up, I've found that actually & quite sadly this is a common problem. A lot of people suffer & what is more, many suffer in silence. Like me, they think that is something they are just doing wrong or believe that there is shame to admit they feel so. When I decided it was time to start talking, as the depression was starting to rule my life, I initially did so to my partner & then explored some unofficial internet support groups, mainly on the website I sell crafts on. It took me a while to be able to open up to close friends & though I blog fairly openly about it I still haven't expressly told any of my wider circle of peers what I'm dealing with. This is mainly because it is not relevant, but is also due in part to fear of being judged. That is going to change. If relevant, then I shan't have any concerns about mentioning it in future, but the part I have struggled with the most is the scariest part of depression, which has only reared its head this year - at some extreme low points I have wondered what, exactly, is the point of pathetic me being here. That is to say I have felt suicidal. It sounds melodramatic & wholly ridiculous but it is damn scary. Thankfully, it is not something that I've felt since the birth of my second little girl & it is not something I ever want to feel again.

I was surprised to find that some too of my close friends have been struggling with such issues too, some for years. Like me, they hadn't really opened up but eventually I think we all just reached breaking point. We have always been close but much more so recently & though I would wish for no one to feel what I have been feeling, I have taken immense comfort in having somebody understanding to talk to & being able to support others when they're having a bad day & often when I feel I have been there for someone it makes me feel as though my life is not completely pointless. I love my friends, of course I always have, but this year all of them have been there for me when I really needed it & I couldn't have made it through without them. I am very lucky (& now I'm shedding a bit of a tear. Damn, sentimental me!).

With this in mind I have been wondering lately why there is no obvious support group for people tackling mental illness. I know that this is partly due to the stigma attached to all things brain-related & though there are some amazing people trying to wrestle this stereotype into submission it is still something that people feel uncomfortable with voicing & hearing. I feel that there needs to be something out there, with a big neon sign saying "Feeling mental? Come join the club - it's normal!".

People should have the right to voice their own feelings (should they choose to) without feeling labelled or diminished. They should also have the right to access support easily even out of 'office hours'.

So this year, in light of all I've said, I want to help myself & others. In fact I think that by helping others I probably would help myself too. All the bullshit around mental illness needs to be labelled as exactly that & I want to play a part in that.

Watch this space.

If you have any ideas, input, opinions, thoughts then please, please, get in touch. I would love to hear from anyone who has suggestions or experience in this field & details of how I can play a part in this, big or small.

You can email me at chloe.skinner@hotmail.co.uk
or find me on Twitter at @PeaGreenGwin
or even on Facebook by searching for Our Pea Green Pod

Wishing you all the best for 2012, I look forward to whatever this journey brings.

PS.

This year, I'd like to take part in the 366 day challenge, whereby you post a photo every day.

Don't ask me how I'm going to manage this, I'm flaky at the best of times, but it definitely sounds fun!

Today is just wanted to share with you some sumptuous roses which are sat on my desk. They were brought to me by a lovely, lovely lady. This is what makes friends so special - she is the best!

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!

3pm Disappointment

It's 3.52pm & I was due to have an appointment with a member of the Rural Community Mental Health Team at 3.00pm today. Originally, my appointment with her was supposed to be on the first of the month., but she had to cancel due to 'having to take some annual leave'.

Though I was disappointed when my first appointment was cancelled, obviously these things happen, people have lives other than their work & I'm sure she was not without good reason to do so.

Since 2.45pm I've been watching every car that goes past the bay window. I hate waiting for people, & always feel anxious & agitated when I'm doing so. I have put out the washing, put in some more washing, tidied away some felts I'll need in an hour & generally fiddled about with all the things I'm usually too lazy to do in an attempt to distract myself but I can feel, even now I've become very nervous & teary.

This morning I felt awful again. Any good mood I'd felt in the past week has subsided & I'm in the sobbing phase again. I was half dreading but half looking forward to seeing this woman. I felt I needed it, even if I didn't much want it (my last appointment having been a little disappointing - read about it here). Now, an hour after she was due I feel foolish & let down. Why haven't I heard from her? Does my mental health not matter?

We were supposed to be making a crisis plan. To be honest I don't actually know what this entails but I imagine it to be clarifying steps to take should I feel horrendous & fancy topping myself or similar once the baby arrives. Obviously this was to be put into place before the baby's arrival & yet I am due in 12 days. What happens if I go into labour now or this week? The way I'm feeling at this moment in time I can barely bring myself to look in the mirror, let alone watch my child come into the world to a mother who is, let's face it, fairly useless at the moment.

It has been so difficult & frankly scary admitting to myself & the people I love that this isn't going to go away & that at times I can't cope; admitting that I am not normal, as much as I feel it sometimes & realising that no matter what I do, the cocoon of sadness & the sense of claustraphobia that comes with it will always return & admitting that I can't be the mum to my children that I always thought I would be. But I have done that & I've asked for help. I know myself well enough to realise that I need support & yet I feel as though I am not getting it. I'm not stupid - I may have made some bad decisions in my life, I may have been careless but I am intelligent enough to see things must change, yet all I feel has happened so far is that I have not been taken seriously or I have been patronised.

A very charming consultant we saw a few weeks ago was kind enough to make me feel like a child, talking to my partner as though I wasn't in the room & then giving me a withering telling off for having not seen my midwife enough, even though I have seen her as she has requested. & you know what - I just take it. I haven't the energy to make myself heard & that is the worst part of it. I'm ashamed of myself but what more can I do? I'm tired. & what about all those other people out there who aren't being heard? The ones who don't have the support of a wonderful partner or children who have to be their point of focus - what do they do when they don't get heard? How many slip through the net?

The system is failing. It is not acceptable - but who has the energy to fight?

It's 4.29pm now & I'm still watching the cars go by. I don't think she's coming.

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.