Every minute of every day xx

I read a blog on Facebook recently, where the woman blogger wrote “any woman that say’s they love being a mother every moment of every day is lying.” Well as a rule I don’t usually respond or comment on other people’s opinions, but on this one I’m going to make an exception.

I do love being a mother every minute of every day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks of the year. Oh and I’m not LYING!

Now I’m not saying that being a mother is easy every minute of every day, because let’s face it, it’s not. There are days I’m exhausted as I drop my daughter off at daycare and then trudge my way to the car to go to work and it’s only 9.30am – days like this I sigh and put on my big girl panties and say to myself “go on, get on with it.”

What gets me through my day as I sit at my desk is the tiny little person waiting for me to pick her up from daycare. That is one of the best parts of my day. When I see her little face smile at me as she catches a glimpse of me from whatever toy she’s playing with my heart melts and no matter how tired I am or how busy a day I’ve had everything is better. I love being a mum to this little girl every second of every day!

I know that not every woman finds being a mother the easiest or most natural thing in the world and babies and children sure don’t come with an instruction manual, but just because there are women out there that feel as if they don’t love being a mother all the time and perhaps in some cases not at all, no one should push that feeling onto the women who do love being mums and feel that they are pretty damn good at it.

Being a mother is a privilege; we get to do something with our bodies that is a pure miracle. We grow a life; a tiny little human who depends on us for everything. There is no purer form of love than that you get from your child, how could you not love this little person every second of every day. A child’s love is unconditional they love you no matter what. That love should be reciprocated ten times over.

There have been days since my daughter turned two that I haven’t particularly liked her very much. When she turned two it’s like a little naughty switch turned on automatically. There was a day this week that she pushed me and pushed me all day and her nana as well. It got to 10pm and the little brat was still going. I just wanted her to go to sleep so I could sit down for five minutes. No I definitely didn’t like her very much that day, but I still loved her throughout it all. Every second of her terrible two, brattish behaviour!

Being a mother is not always easy, it’s challenging at times and exhausting a lot of the time but the rewards you get in return far outweigh any of this. So just to make it clear one last time with the love that my daughter gives me every day there is no other outcome for me……I love my child every moment of every day xx

Average every day mum xx

I was chatting to some of the younger staff at work the other day about Instagram and I was boasting that I had just hit 150 followers – pat on the back for me I was thinking! I was quickly re buffed from one of the young boys who said I’m on 720 followers (all right now, no need to show off, let a woman have her moment.) Curiously, I asked how does one get so many followers on Instagram? I was quickly educated that it’s all about the hashtag, the more popular the hashtag you use the wider audience you get. For likes it’s also about the time you post your picture. Quite frankly it sounds a little scary for my liking – like a pass for any Joe blow to stalk you – but if it’s all about the followers who am I to argue?

One of the young boys said “you should check out this mum that’s from Australia, she’s just an average mum and wife with two kids, she has 4 million followers and Instagram pays her over a million dollars a year.” Quickly I counted up in my head how many more followers I would need to get Instagram to pay me to take random pictures of me and my life. I thought if an average Aussie mum of two can do it surely I can too? If this was a game show this is where the buzzer would come in. Ba Baaang you’re so wrong your out!!

Now really the fault is mine. I should have been clued into that something was off when I had two young men under the age of 25 tell me to check out this average Aussie mum of two – who isn’t a celebrity by the way (which is I think on reflection what they were referring to as the average part, I hope) but is pretty. Alas, I was naïve and after finding this average mum of two on Instagram quickly put aside any hope of Instagram paying this average mother of one a dime let alone over a million dollars. What shot out in front of me was a beautifully coiffed Barbie doll. Big lips, blonde hair, big lashes, great body, Kardashian arse and a set of boobies to match, teeny tiny waist, perfectly manicured nails, big eyes, fully tanned and the nicest gym gear I had ever seen (my poor grotty mis-matched gym gear is hanging its head in shame right now.) Gorgeous yes, average Aussie mother…..no.

When I got home I curiously picked up my phone and looked this woman up on Instagram again. I started scrolling through her pictures and was confronted with one perfect image after another. Always perfectly made up, posing either on her own or with her kids or husband. I got to one picture that showed her standing at her kitchen bench, once again in great gym gear, (I think she might be endorsing the gym gear as well as the protein shake she had in her hand) perfectly made up with her new baby in one arm and a protein shake in the other with the caption “Multi tasking at it’s finest.” With this I laughed and thought to myself “oh my god these poor boys are in for such a shock if they think this is what an average woman with kids is like”. What they are more likely to get is the scene that played out in my house on Monday morning.

Picture this for a moment (let’s pretend I thought to upload it to Instagram). My daughter and I both in mis-matched flannel Pj’s, LMM with Paw Patrol top and Sophia bottoms and me with Betty Boop bottoms and a fluffy jumper with a big love heart on it curtosy of the wee wee’s my daughter decided to do over the two of us while watching frozen the night before. LMM and I both sporting matching birds nests (hair that she has unfortunately inherited from me) at the back of our heads. LMM has snot dripping down her nose and I am sporting lovely panda eyes, as I couldn’t be bothered taking off my mascara the night before. Besides the fact that I’m holding a toddler in lieu of a baby and a cup of tea instead of a protein shake, I’m going to say that while we are both multi tasking I would definitely be considered the average woman not the other way round.

I kept flicking through the images one after another; there was a picture of her inside a gorgeous designer car, as clean as a whistle compared to the likes of my car that hasn’t seen the inside of a car wash in the two years since my daughter was born. Neither has the inside been cleaned in as long. Needless to say at this point it would be easier for me to buy a new car rather than try to salvage this one. There are numerous photos of the mum with her kids wearing white – hands up to her, I can’t wear white any more and I rarely leave my house without some evidence of LMM’s existence on me.

Next I came across a picture of the so-called average mum of two sitting with her kids on the bed in front of the T.V while wearing what I am assuming is either the smallest undies or bathers bottoms I’ve ever seen or a pair of really small hot pants. Either way the image shows the mum sporting very small white bottoms, her flat stomach and her legs (with not one hair in sight) stretched out on her bed with her kids next to her (not one toy or chip in anywhere with the caption ‘my kinda Netflix and chill.’ Once again I had a laugh, thought of the reality that may one day present itself to the young boys from this generation of the ‘perfect Instagram pic’ or my favourite ‘snap chat’, as I re-capped on how I relaxed with my daughter on Sunday. I’ve been told that they could possibly be the ugliest tracksuits pants ever to be brought into this world. I don’t care; I love them and yes perhaps the bottoms do hang so far down my arse it looks like I’m 100 and in need of a butt lift. They also look like a family of mice have made a meal from them (but they do cover the patches of leg hairs I’ve missed in my haste to get out the shower) and perhaps my jumper is 20 years old and is now held toghethr at the arms with safety pins; but I’m comfy and I’m watching movies with my sick daughter who is equally dressed to impress while watching netlfix with her odd socks, christmas pj bottoms and her anna and else pj top on. While we watched netflix I sat with a towl on the chair underneath my daughter as she has decided after being fully toilet trained for the last 6 months to regress and wee herself while being comfy on the living room chair watching her artoons (catoons for those of you unfamiliar with toodler talk.)

Now let me clear something up for any of you who are thinking…..She is just jealous – because I’m not. I can admire a gorgeous woman for what she is, and there is more to this woman as well than just false lashes and a great tan. She is into fitness and trains hard for the body she has, she has her own website where she sells her fitness routine and what she eats online. She is working hard for what she gets from her association with Instagram and other companies that she plugs on her Instagram account and more power to her I say. She can give her family a comfortable life; there would be a lot of people out there who probably wish that they could do the same. I am merely amused that young boys are thinking that this is average, that this is what all woman look like before or after kids. That when they settle down their wife is going to awalk around being a perfectly coiffed barbie doll. When more likely than not the reality of what they will get is a woman who looks like she’s been rolled in last nights makeup, loves wearing her comfiest daggiest and ugliest clothes while lounging round the house (braless) and a child who wants to run roung in the nude which is the reason why they have a cold in the first place!

This woman has created a very very successful business for herself. Her full time job is to promote herself wether through her Instagram account or website or by advertising products she’s endorsing on these platforms as well. What she doesn’t represent though and this is what scares me for my daughter In the future is the average Australian woman or an average woman at all in fact. So all I can say is good luck to all the young men out there on finding your average everyday barbie doll – oh I mean woman!

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Clear to the foggy eye!

Standing Bleary eyed in front of the fridge at 3.30am with a screaming child in my arms in pain and wanting relief I fumble for the panadol and nurophen bottles. With eyes squinting and glasses cleary not working I struggle to double check the measurements of the dose I’m meant to give LMM. 

Now don’t get me wrong in the two years since LMM was born I’ve had to give her nurophen and panadol before and even though I know the dosage like the back of my hand relegiously I double check the dosage before I give her any medication. You just can’t be too careful when it comes to giving any medication to your little one.

Now at the best of times it’s hard to read the mls to be given and how often to give it but when you wear glasses like I do and your tired and it’s 3.30am it is quite frankly impossible to read the instructions.

Here I am standing in front of the fridge with LMM screaming in my arms and all I can think is for f’s sake why don’t they make the writing on the instruction section larger. 

The instructions on the bottles are so small it amazes me that people with perfect vision can read them let alone the visually challenged like myself. When it comes to giving medications to our precious little ones I have come to the conclusion that pharmaceutical companies should make it as visible and clear as possible so that there is no room for error and so that it could be seen by even the most visually of challenged people or just saying from the other side of the room (just to play it safe!) xx

Time xx

Once upon a time back in the day’s when the only person I had to care for was myself I was an extremely organised person. Everyone got a birthday card and present on time, I called my family and friends more than once every three months, my house was clean and tidy, everything on my to do list got done in a timely manner and I was extremely well-groomed and presented.

Fast forward to today and I buy birthday cards and presents weeks ahead of time; yet sometimes they make it a day or two late, on occasion they are a couple of weeks late or months later I find the birthday card somewhere that I don’t remember putting it; so obviously someone didn’t receive their birthday card (apologies to whoever that is by the way.)

When it comes to phoning family and friends well it’s not that I don’t want to talk to them but by the time I’ve gotten up, dressed, fed and organised LMM and I for the day and fed the dog, we are leaving for daycare. Once I’m at work my day is crazy and I don’t stop until I leave to go home where I race home at 4.30pm to cook dinner as it’s easier to do it without a little appendage hanging from one of my limbs. Then it’s 5.15pm time to pick up my shadow. We come home, eat dinner, shower, get into jammies, read a book and then it’s bottle time and asleep by 8.30pm  – sometimes, dare I say it 9pm!!!! I blink and my day is gone I haven’t had a chance to call anyone, returned any missed calls or most of the time responded to messages. Two or three months go by and i finally speak to someone lest they forget about me – I’m sorry, Aileen who? I don’t know anyone by that name!

Now when it comes to my house – back in days gone by I was almost OCD. My house was so clean and  tidy. Everything had a home, every cupboard was spotless and neat, my DVD’s where in alphabetical order, clothes colour coordinated and so on and so forth. My home at all times could have been used as a display home not a thing was out-of-place. Well that ship has sailed, and it has sunk like the titanic to the bottom of the ocean. Perhaps I am over exaggerating a little. I have a cleaner come in once a fortnight so at least I know my house is clean. Tidy, well the rooms we don’t use are spotless at all times (lol) Our bedroom, the laundry, the kitchen and the living room get a tidy once a week usually on a Sunday. Any OCD tendencies I had are gone as is my alphabeticalised DVD collection!

I admire the women out there that work, have a family of more than one child and still keep a clean house and who have dinners pre made for the week and who are organised. I mean that sincerely and with the slightest bit of envy.

My to do list is getting so long I would at this point need to hire a personal assistant just to help me get back on track. Each day something gets added to my to do list and each week i may if I’m really lucky cross one thing of it. By the time I deal with LMM who takes up 60%- 70% of my time, work, groceries, attending to the needs of the house hold there isn’t enough time for my to do list let alone time to do anything for myself.

So I guess you can imagine what I’m going to say next. There isn’t time any more for the way I used to look after myself. No more facials, no more hair masks, I am maintained enough on the outside so as not to frighten people away.

I’ve been thinking a lot about time recently; how I need more time in the day, the week and the year, what am i doing with my time? How can i better use my time?  What great things will I accomplish with the time I have left? At the rate I’m going will I accomplish great things with my life?????

I’m hoping that as LMM gets a little bit older and doesn’t want to be near her mummy at all times I might get back to resembling that organised woman again. But then I had someone say to me “It just gets worse as they get older, play dates, dancing, swimming, school sports, parties…..Well, I don’t really have anything to add to that one, maybe when my daughter turns 18 I’ll start to resemble the organised woman I once was – I hate to see what my to do list will look like by then! xx

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Protect, Love, Cherish

I look at my daughter as she lies on the couch asleep next to me and the love I feel for her knows no bounds. The need to protect her from the evils in the world consume my daily thoughts and makes me want to cherish her all the more.

It is inconceivable to me that there is anyone that can hurt a child. The innocence that they have when they look at you and smile or laugh or cry is something that no one has the right to take away – yet it happens every second of every day. There is some monster out there that feels the need to extinguish the flame of light that only a child has.

More and more over the last couple of months as I hear one story after another of men and women abusing children, murdering children or neglecting children it fills me with anguish and makes me hold my daughter all the more tightly. But it also does something else to me; it makes me feel fear. Fear that while in my hands my child will never be anything but loved, protected and cherished there are those that live out there in my child’s world that would mean to cause her harm.

There is already so much that can affect a child’s life and make it difficult – Be it poor health, poverty, disability or any other manner of things. Why are there those that prey on the innocence of a child. A child that has no means to fight back, to speak up for itself, to be heard. A child who only wants to be loved, protected, to feel safe and secure. Brutal monsters that deserve the worst punishment that could be placed upon anyone. The weakness that must be inside them as a human to show such brutality to a child that cannot defend itself or fight back.

My heart is filled with love and sorrow for any child that is wronged by those that should be protecting them. I say this because as far as I’m concerned whether a child is yours or not we all have an obligation to love, protect and cherish every child born into this world. I sometimes wish that I could take in every child that needs it, or lock up any person that could potentially cause harm to a child. If only we had the ability to be able to pick them out; if only we could get rid of them before they have the chance to hurt a child. If only I knew with 100% certainty that without me or her daddy near her my daughter would be safe.

I know that there will be those out there that will say there are reasons why people do what they do to children. Listen you don’t need to tell me I did sociology and psychology at university. I’ve read all the theory and psychology on people that commit violent crimes against children. However none of that even registers on your brain once you have a child. All of a sudden every child is your child. I can’t even watch a baby cry on T.V anymore without the tears streaming down my eyes and that’s just make believe. My heart shatters into a million pieces when I hear or read real life stories of the things that are done to children.

My daughter is a spoilt, loved and fiercely protected little Madame. I only wish that every child had her life. That’s why if I’m out and I meet a child I try to make them smile or laugh. You never know if that’s the only kindness they’ve been shown that day. Every time you get the chance to cuddle a child, or show them kindness or make them laugh or stop it from crying or make a positive change in its life take it. The child may not be yours but surely a child can’t be shown too much kindness and love. As you read the horrific stories that are recorded daily let’s try and make a difference in as many children’s lives as we can.

After all children bring so much joy to our lives. The wonder that they have for the world around them, the way that small things make them happy and the strangest things keep them occupied. The pure innocence that is a child as they go about their day to day lives and look up at those they trust. They find curiosity in everyday life and laugh at….well anything. Not a bad bone lies within their little bodies. Only within the bodies of man does there lie evil and the ability to do harm to those that cannot protect and defend themselves.

My heart goes out to all the children that never got the chance to grow at the hands of those that shouldn’t be allowed to go on.

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Parenting – Viking Vs 2016

I’ve just finished watching the four seasons of Vikings. I honestly never thought I’d like this series (it’s to bloody for me I’m afraid) but my mum and a friend from work both said watch it you’ll get hooked……. Well I did – love it to bits.

But it’s got me thinking; thinking about the way parenting has changed since the Viking days. The Vikings for all their brutality couldn’t have gotten it all wrong, were still here after all! Now, life was tough back then most children didn’t survive past the age of five and if they got to five they were lucky to see 20. If I was a Viking mother I’d be considered a fossil ready for replacement with a newer and sexier Viking version (Look, if it’s going to happen at least replace me with the hot and sexy Lagertha, now she’s a fine specimen of a Viking mother!)

If we compared children being brought up back then to how they are now, the Viking race would have social services called on them. Certainly no one would read their blogs if they had one – after all no one wants to read a blog from a Viking who shags in front of the children, leaves the kids with anyone who will take them and feeds them the same thing day in and day out. There’s just no good parenting advise there. Come on though surely they got a few things right that we could learn from?

Back in the day, Vikings were either at home or sailing the oceans to find new lands to plunder and pillage; so families were either in a boat together, living in a makeshift tent or in the cramped family home. Now to have sex there was no choice; they just got on with it… Wamb bamb thank you Viking man! Today if your really lucky one of the kiddies will have snapped a real nasty shoot of dad’s butt in the air with his hands over mum’s boobies for modesty posted onto Snap Chat or Instagram, it would wind up on facebook and the next thing you know Child Protection would be on your doorstep and everyone on social media would have a comment to make. Parents today are always talking about there not being enough sex in the relationship or that there’s not enough time or the old “I haven’t had time for a wax scenario” – Let’s face it though men don’t really care so I think it’s safe to say today’s man still has a little “Viking” left in him. Perhaps we should just be grabbing the Viking by the beard so to speak and go for it, even if the kids are in the other room watching sponge bob square pants and you haven’t put it into your calendar.

Right back to the Viking children who as it happens were left with aunt’s, uncle’s, neighbour’s for months or even years. Parents did what they had to do to get on. Yet children lived and grow into self-sufficient adults knowing where they belonged and they had a wider, larger family network: In 2016 mum’s feel guilty leaving their child at daycare to go to work, or at a family member’s house to go have their hair done or just to have me time. In Viking times it was called survival and it wasn’t uncommon practice to look after other’s children. Today however you’re neglecting your child if you’re not thinking about them or with them 24/7.

Viking children learnt to fight from a young age, or they were helping mum in the home or dad on the farm; they did because they had to there was no choice or negotiating… Children in 2016 are allergic to house work and want compensation in the form of luxury goods or money for performing tasks that they should be doing any way. Quick call a social worker I’m using my child for slave labour…. I got LMM to put her apple core in the bin (insert shock horror here.)

Back in the day of the Viking you had a diet of fish, any meat that could be killed and the crudest of vegetables – there was no choice, no alternative and no media portraying to mum’s that they’re not doing the best by their children if their meals aren’t gluten free, dairy free, preservative free, organic and free range.’ Viking children were lucky to have enough to eat, unlike our fussier, more spoilt 2016 counterparts that think it’s ok to let mum and dad do some negotiating here as well…..’Ok mum I’ll see your pot roast and I’ll raise you a nut fudge sunday,’ – Viking child ‘I don’t want to eat this,’ Viking parent – whack over the head of said child and a nice short ‘eat now.’ – Yes Sir!

Look don’t get me wrong I certainly wouldn’t want to live back in the Viking days… Although the men seem a lot taller and manly than some of today’s men who just love their skinny jeans and moisturiser (Only joking honest, nothing wrong with a bit of moisturiser.) I think the reality is we should all give ourselves and others a break. Let people parent and get on with their jobs of raising amazing little humans. We should all stop being so critical and judgemental of ourselves and others and lets face it we can be. We could just try and leave the kids with the in-laws once in a while, have more sex, give our kids some chores and food, well let’s stop stressing about what they are not eating and just be thankful they are eating. Maybe we should all try and find our “Inner Viking.”

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Hello, how are you today?

Hello, how are you today?
Hello, how is your day going?
Hello, are you having a good day today?

Three variations of a phrase that we all probably use several times a day; be it to family, friends, customers, patients, or that really annoying person we all know and wish we could freeze with our imaginary super powers but instead we have to be grown ups and be polite to them.

How many of you are really ready though for the answer to this question? Which most of us have said because we either have to or with little meaning behind the comment. What if the answer isn’t the obligatory ‘I’m good thanks’ or ‘good thank’s and you?’ What would you do and how would you respond? What if the way you react to the non text-book “good thanks” could change the way that someone’s day has started out?

Well that’s what happened to me today while I was standing at the cash register at Officeworks.The Sales Assistant asked the man at her till “How is your day going sir?” and he replied with “Do you really want to know?” Que stunned awkward silence from the sales assistance who wasn’t expecting her question to go in this direction (she probably wishes she had a time machine so she could go back and just shut the hell up!) Luckily for her I was at the till next to the man and being the smarty pants I am (and a little nosey) I said “Oh oh I bet you wish you hadn’t asked that question, he might tell you now” – Now I said this in a very light-hearted way with a laugh in my voice and the sales assistance serving me picked right up on my remark and said “of course we want to know, we’re woman aren’t we?” – also said in an equally light-hearted way.

The man went on to tell us about his terrible month since separating from his wife and that his day had just gotten worse as because of certain things his wife wasn’t letting him have they’re two children aged five and eight for the weekend as agreed and was filing for full custody.

Ok, so at this point I felt like I was in the midst of a daytime soap and at any moment cameras would be fixed on me and someone would shout the words ACTION! That of course didn’t happen – much to my dismay; I’ve always fancied myself as an actress, mores the pity. What did happen though is that this man had three women listening to him as he told us about his crappy month and even crappier day who all Oh’d and Ah’d over him, gave him some words of encouragement and tried to make him laugh. As he left he said “Thanks ladies it’s the first time I’ve laughed all week.”

I must say I have to applaud this man for straying off course from the standard “Good thanks” and just saying what he rally wanted to say. There have definitely been days where what I’ve rally wanted to say is “How’s my day?, My dog and my daughter both decided to shit on the carpet, I’m bloated, I have a migraine because my daughter still wont’sleep through the night, I ran out of milk so I couldn’t have my morning coffee and you’ve run out of the toner I need for the printer, so all in all I’m having a pretty shitty (pardon the pun) day, thank’s for asking though.” The worst thing is how many times have you actually wanted to say “Do you really want to know?” or “Don’t ask it’s been terrible.” Do we ever say it though? No! Why? Because the reality is that we have been programmed over the years to give the polite answer and we think people wont really care and to be honest most of the time most people really don’t.

How different someone’s day could turn out if you did happen to get that person who strays from the fold and is honest with you and you in turn act in a friendly open and positive way. I’m not saying it’s going to change their life or anything but if you can lift one person up and make them laugh or smile or even lend an ear to listen to them for a moment or two then surely it’s worth the bit of awkwardness you might feel from not expecting the unexpected answer to your question. xx

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Judgy Eyes!

Judgy Eyes – First used to describe one of the woman on Real Housewives of Orange County – Currently being used to describe the older woman down at my local shopping centre – Judging me with her judgy eyes

Once a week LMM and I do the weekly shop, either on a Thursday or a Sunday. On these days we indulge in a bit of badness with either some Fit Chips or a Banana Smoothie and a Hot Dog from Wendy’s. Being the typical 19month old that LMM is I like to do this and sit on one of the benches as it’s easier to let her run around and not sitting in a café where she usually wiggles and worms about.

Sitting on our chosen bench and eating and drinking our Wendy’s and having a bit of a giggle while we’re at it, I see an older couple walk by, the woman looks at LMM and I and as she turns to her husband with her Judgy Eyes she says ‘That’s terrible that little girl is far to young to be eating that.’

I like to think that over the years I have learnt not to judge people and I definitely would say that since I’ve had my daughter I am even better than I was before, so I have little tolerance for people who can make a judgement on you and your child or family on the very small snippet that they get to see while you’re sitting on a bench in a shopping centre eating a hotdog and drinking a banana smoothie.

What this woman doesn’t know as she’s passing judgement on me and my daughter from her self-appointed role as judge and jury is that my daughter has an exceptionally well-balanced diet and everything she eats is home-made and always has been since her first home-made oats and fruit purée. Or that I’ve even started making my own snacks and biscuits so I know what LMM is eating (there have been times recently when LMM has been really sick and I have ended up feeding her anything I can get her to eat, but they are special instances and not the norm in our household.) This woman doesn’t know that my daughters daycare has a great chef who cooks nutritionally balanced meals all made fresh that day and planned out so that each food group is covered.

This woman doesn’t know that my daughter is loved more than anything else in this world, that’s she’s well taken care of and spoilt rotten. She doesn’t know that LMM has a mummy that spends hours keeping her mind stimulated with arts and crafts, play doh, colouring-in, painting, reading , singing songs, playing shop, playing with her babies going to Gymbaroo, swimming and very soon dancing. She doesn’t know that her daddy takes her to the park and plays ball with her and her puppy and sings row row row your boat on what seems like a loop (by the by, I hate row row row your boat now and I wish that boat would do me a solid and sink already!)

I’m just lucky this woman isn’t at my grandmas house or aunt’s house to witness LMM eating chocolate biscuits or ice-cream (isn’t that what grandmas and aunt’s are for to let the kids eat the things we won’t let them?) when we visit once every couple of months I may be locked up and the key thrown away.

More luck to my mother that this woman wasn’t at my birthday parties as a child as they would consist of fairy bread, party pies, sausage rolls, chips, lollies, cake, ice cream and the pièce de résistance lolly bags. Sunday night was the night when my dad would fill up the cars and he would always come home with our chosen treat. If you looked at this and passed judgement you would think all we ate was crap. The reality however was that my mum used to make fresh and healthy home-made meals, she would make her own bread, her own ice cream and we had a great diet.

So to the woman with the Judgy Eyes and misplaced and ignorant comment (even if it was just to your husband) please refrain from taking it upon yourself to comment on what I’m feeding my daughter. You have no idea what goes on in my house-hold and you cannot judge or comment when all you’re seeing is a snapshot of my daughters daily food in-take or our life in fact. Perhaps if fewer people took it upon themselves to comment or judge others parents wouldn’t feel the pressure they do today to always look like they’re doing the right thing. Parenting is hard enough without the JUDGY EYES and side comments so keep them to yourself or wait till you get home and have your say then xx

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Mother’s Day xx

Roses are red violets are blue
The best thing that happened to me was you xx

Well, it’s my second mothers day today and I must say it is all together a different experience from last year.

LMM’s Daycare had a mother’s day morning tea on Thursday and I was treated to songs and pictures and a mother’s day cake (Michaela ate my cake, I only got a bite, oh well them’s the breaks when you have a child!) I left daycare on cloud nine. It’s been said before, but I will say it again, it’s the little things in life. Getting home-made pictures and a card from your child is better than any bought present (ok look if someone wanted to buy me an Island for mother’s day I certainly wouldn’t say no and it would definitely be very close to beating my daughters present, but not quite!)

First hand-made mothers day card from LMM xx
First hand-made mothers day card from LMM xx

This morning I wake up to mothers day cards and a family project for the day. To paint a picture for the wall together and then bake some homemade cookies. Now I’m not very good at the old baking thing, but I think I’ve picked up a thing or two from watching the UK’s Best British Bake off.

Flowers that will last forever :0
Flowers that will last forever :0

My life has definitely changed; I have immersed myself in being a mother and I love every second of it.

Is it hard? Hell yes, there are days I wander how I haven’t gone crazy and pulled all my hair out. Do I sometimes wish I could go to the toilet on my own, or do anything on my own? Absolutely; although there is something to be said about having constant entertainment free of charge with you 24/7. Do I get any sleep? No! I have learnt to go to work and get on with my day with as little as 2 hours sleep. I’m hoping a little Botox which is on the cards will remedy the circles under my eyes!

Regardless of these things it’s all worth it. The love you get from your child cannot even start to be explained in words. It’s in their smile, their laugh, the way they hold you when their tired or sad or crying. Or how when you say to them ‘Can I have a kiss?’ They pucker up their little lips and smack a wet one right on your lips and its the best feeling in the world.

When you here them say mummy (LMM sounds equally adorable when she calls out in her Little voice DADDY) your heart skips a beat and when you look at them and see how happy and truly loved they are you pray that nothing can ever take that away from them or you.

Happy mothers day to all the mummy’s out there. Cherish each and every day with your child (or children) and don’t let any opportunity to make them happy pass you by, because ultimately it will make you happy too. xx

It must be love, love, love xx
It must be love, love, love xx

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Epic!

At precisely 5.09am this morning the 27th April 2016 my daughter LMM had an EPIC tantrum.

I’ve been told by many that it will happen; my aunts, mum and grandmas have told me the stories, friends have told me stories and the women at LMM’s daycare have told me stories. All the stories are of children having a meltdown over the silliest things imaginable you wouldn’t even rate it as being true…..An urban myth so to speak.

I’ve heard the tails of children melting down over the wrong bowl being given to them for breakfast, or they don’t like the way you brushed their hair or even just for looking in their general direction! 

It’s not that I didn’t believe the stories I’d been told; I have two younger brothers and I’ve seen my fair share of hissy fits. The reality is whether by choice or design (so that you procreate) you get a bit hazy on how bad it is.

Well, this morning I was catapulted back to reality with an all mighty WALLOP! Figuratively speaking of course, LMM isn’t big enough yet to batter her mummy!

I brought her into bed with me after my partner had gone to work as she woke up and wanted a bottle. I went to put her down like so many other times and BAAMM!!!! It started; a scream so piercing and so loud the actors from Scream would look like amateurs compared to my daughter. Then in the midst of the screaming there was the pillow moving, bottle throwing, dummy chucking and head shaking (cue an image of  the girl from the Exorcist…..minus the vomit!).

In between this there were moments of calmness and there were tears; and  while I was in utter shock and honestly had no idea how to handle this melodrama that was unfolding in front of me I had a moment.

A moment where I was in LMM’s head and the characters of Inside Out were controlling her emotions as they do in the movie. Anger had definitely played his part at the beginning, disgust had also played her hand as LMM threw the offending pillow out of her sight, sadness was playing out in front of me in that moment. Then I smiled (note here I didn’t say laugh, I was still in too much shock and disbelief to do that) because I realised that not only is that movie scarily funny and true but there was a light at the end of the tunnel and her name was JOY!

After 35 min it stopped and my daughter sobbed herself back to sleep. I prayed the neighbours didn’t think I was torturing LMM and I thanked the universe for giving me the strength to get through the ordeal without losing my patience or temper. 

LMM woke up as bright and chipper as always as if nothing had happened and all I could think as I smiled and laughed at her beautiful smile was thank you JOY!  xx

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