Tomorrow is never promised...

My posts are usually light hearted, tongue in cheek, and in a “laugh at my own jokes” way, humorous… Whilst I whine about my so-called-life, really I love it and wouldn’t change it for the world…  My babies may be rascals, but they’re my rascals and without their boundary pushing, patience testing antics, my life would be peaceful but rather dull.

Today my post is different, one of a sadder content. With a heavy heart, it’s taken me a week to write, often as my fingertips have brushed the keys on my laptop, my eyes have stung with unwelcome tears that have threatened to fall. Tears that I feel I don’t deserve to cry.

Last weekend, St Georges Day, my eldest niece lost one of her very dearest friends. She’s 19. So was he.

I can’t help by feel I didn’t know George well enough to warrant my tears. But my tears are for him, forever 19 years old. For his parents losing a child with so much life left to live. For his brother losing a sibling and best friend. For his long term girlfriend, dealing with something she never thought she’d have to. For his friends who have lost a brother. And for my Chloe… My heart aches for the pain she is going through, this out of body feeling that is so foreign to her.  Self-confessed, she’s in denial; a bubble. Until he is laid to rest it won’t really seem real. Her heart is breaking and in turn it’s heart breaking to have to stand back and watch without being able to take any of the pain away.

My niece has lived a fortunate life, where in the 19 years she’s been on this earth she’s never loved and lost.

This boy that she had grown up with, schooled with, walked to and from school with, had grown up to be a fine young man. He was a credit to his parents. Which I told his mum just this morning.

Despite going their separate ways after leaving school, Chloe still saw George regularly, last year when I was pregnant, Chloe (unplanned) took Olly to one of their catch ups. Not many teenage boys would be so accommodating to have a 3 year old tear away gate crash their plans. But he was, he welcomed my loveable rogue, took him to his favourite pub with a soft play, gave him the time of day and treated him to his dinner. Olly came home utterly impressed with a new favourite friend!

Regardless of how a life is lost, no parent should ever have to see their child go before them. It’s not the way it’s supposed to be. That’s not how the circle of life is supposed to work.

This past week I have seen nothing but love and appreciation for this young man. And at time when they should, old friends, even former teachers have reunited to reminisce about growing up and the good times. His family have been very brave at a time when you can’t imagine what they must be going through…  Life can be cruel. So, so cruel.

I have been reminded that life is short; Tomorrow is never promised. Do things that scare you, tell those important that you love them and live each day as if it was your last…

 May you rest in peace St George of Derby xoxo

The self combusting bean bag chair

This week has been no different to the last few in our household, as the football season draws close to an end, the past 7 days has seen the hubster in Ireland, Portugal and Brighton. With a parents evening squeezed in between. 

Parenting 2 children under 5, working part time, as well as running a cheerleading academy and keeping the dog alive has its challenges, especially when one is on their own.  This week I have cussed silently under my breath on more occasions than I can count, considered changing my name from momma, mummy, muuuuuuuum and all the above by deed poll, sat silently rocking on the landing wrapped up in a Good Dinosaur duvet but alas, I’ve made it another week!

One more home game next Saturday followed by semi-final play offs and I have my husband back for a few weeks! I am excited.

I sometimes think my children secretly hate me and are conspiring to cause me a break down with the help of the dog. Nancy has turned in to danger baby, any dangerous activity; she gravitates towards it quicker than a fly around freshly dropped shit. Her current favourite is climbing. Followed by gripping on by her baby finger, with just a random noise to make you panic she may be up to something she shouldn’t. She’s also started answering back, in a fashion. All this is cheered on by her non-idyllic role model big brother!

These offspring’s of mine don’t go without. They’re quite fortunate, have toys to play with and a flaming playroom for the good Lords sake. But everything has to be dragged in to the sitting room. And when I say everything, I mean things that either take up the whole room, like a play tent (trying watching TV from behind that!), making a cushion mountain with the scatter back cushions off the sofa or playing with the dog lead. Yes, hours of fun comes from the extractable dog lead. I put in hard to reach places or hide it but the boy ALWAYS finds it. For those of you who didn’t know, it also makes an excellent zip line for Power Rangers, Avengers and Fireman (thank you Fisher Price Imaginext) All you have to do is attach one part to the window handle and the other the fire place grate. Super fun for Olly whilst being a death trap for everyone else in the house.

Today is bank holiday Monday and it’s peeing it down where we are. So far today I have had a cheerleading rehearsal followed by a quick visit to my sisters then an afternoon at home. Olly is an outdoor boy so this weather causes him to go stir crazy. With the boredom comes mischief, you can hear his brain churning as he’s thinking what he can do. 

Whilst Nancy had an unheard of power nap on the sofa, the bear and I sat and did his handwriting practice for school. Those bloody S’s just don’t want to go the right way!! He then proceeded to colour in the work sheet. Once the madam had woken she was ready for a late lunch, leaving the boy in the lounge colouring and watching his programmes, all seemed to be as it should in a normal household. Except my household ISN’T a normal household.

15 minutes of being in the kitchen and in comes Olly. There will be only 2 reasons for this visit; hunger or something has happened that was absolutely in no way at all his fault.

On this occasion it was the latter.  

“Mummy that green seat that’s Nancy’s has popped” – green beanbag chair. Yes, the same as a bean bag. Yes, those really annoying, supper static little white balls. “But don’t worry, there’s only a few on the floor, and a few on the sofa, oh and a few on the window sill”

As I make my way in to the sitting room with Nancy in arms there is what can only be described as 568983746 billion white static balls all over the floor, sofa and window sill. FML.

As if he is reading my mind or more so my facial expressions “I was just using it to wipe out my dinosaurs”

Happy Bank Holiday everyone. If anyone is looking for me, I’ll be sat on my landing, wrapped in a Good Dinosaur duvet rocking back and forth!

‘Til next time xoxo

Hello... It's me.. No not Adele!

And I'm back.  It's been a while. 6 months in fact; half a year...

We often refer to the growing of our babies, reflecting and reminiscing on old pictures, looking at our former "skinnier" selves as "ooohhhh where does the time go"

I'll tell you where the time goes, it goes on rushing round like a blue arsed fly. Returning to work, doing the school runs, childcare drop offs, walking the dog, food shopping, trying to grab a shower which is now considered a luxury. Brushing my hair is a thing of the past, but I always make time to wipe my bum!!

Too much? Sorry! I'm a momma to a 4 year old, poo and toilet humour are our thing! I always worry he'll repeat our secret affectionate "love you, you big fat poo" line in front of the wrong people. So far we're safe.

So yeah, I'm back. I thought it time to start writing again as I'm sure I'm about to fall victim of many Facebook culls through my bitching and moaning about life and parenthood!

You see, my husband works long hours, his team are in the premiership football promotion chase. The games are coming fast and furious and as much as I want them to reach promotion (COYR) it means the season potentially drags on for an extra 4 weeks. As a result of this, there are many away games and many days/evenings of being on my own with little adult company.  Our munchkins, as delightful and loved as they are, will press our buttons from time to time. So a desperation Facebook post, seeking comfort in someone else going through what I am, becomes an unintentional regular occurrence... Hangs head in shame; WHO AM I?

Solution? Start writing again! Make the time! Clear my chest through blogging, if anyone reads it; great, if anyone can relate to it; wonderful, if anyone can share their experiences; brilliant!! Mothers unite, WE ARE NOT ALONE!!

At 13 months, Nancy has spent 4-5 months sleep regressing.  We have been working sleeping full nights in her own cot in her own room. My little noodles was a fabulous sleeper from a young age, liked her own cot too!  However...

A trip to Dubai + a hating of the travel cot X a bad bout of Croup = the worse sleep regression in the regression of sleep history. WAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

And unintentionally we find co-sleeping a thing. Something I never judged people for, but didn't really want to do myself (I like my own space)
 
As if on cue (the hubs had a long distant away game this weekend) Friday night Noo Noo wakes in the night heaving. She's carrying phlegm on her chest and was bringing it up throughout the night.  She won't settle so I bring her in to my bed. There's only me and the dog in the king-size any way, so plenty of room.  About an hour later I hear the pitter patter of tiny feet on the landing, in comes Olly.  He can't sleep, he needs mummy snuggles. So now there's Momma, Olly, Nancy and Molly all packed in. Momma (me) the biggest, of course has the littlest room. About an hour after that, Nancy wakes, it's about 4am now. She's wide awake. I'm been smacked in the face, head stood on, ear screamed down, eyes poked, head butted... all I'm sure are done with love and affection. Olly manages to sleep through all of it. Either way. Shit nights sleep for me.

Up we get bleary eyed on Saturday at an unearthly hour (screw you light mornings) Nancy has her milk, Olly has his nutella on toast. We are all sat squashed in to the smallest space on our large corner sofa; happens all the time, everyone pile on mummy. And up sits Nancy and her full force projectile vomit. It's like that scene in Problem Child the late 80's/early 90's film, when Junior turns the fair ground ride on full speed (I hope I am remembering the right film!) she covers me, covers the sofa and gets Olly, who's facials quite frankly look like he's stepped in shit.  Utterly unimpressed.

I sometimes wonder how I've survived almost 5 years of motherhood. Sick? Makes me heave. Shit? Can't stand the smell of it. Blood & guts? I end up in a heap. Yet I find myself now running towards sick with hands cupped, telling little people "bums up" whilst I check their bums are turd free and will affectionately wipe away tears, snot and blood whilst reassuring my most precious possession's that they WILL be OK.

Nancy picked up throughout the day, we even managed a quick nip to Asda for essentials. But round 2 struck at bed time. The range on this little ladies sick is something else. The sofa (which coincidently I told hubs I hated and wanted a new one only on Thursday) which had been sponged down, febreeze'd and cushions flipped. Now took a second thrashing, as did I. But it didn't stop there, it continued on to the rug. Thankfully the parentals were visiting so getting cleaned up was a little easier.  The house however stinks of sick. I have all my plug ins on full. Windows have been open but that god awful smell just won't piss off!

Saturday night, return of the hubs, 3 points too! Kids are in bed and he has a 10K on Sunday morning. We head to bed praying for a restful night. 2am... in comes a restless Nancy, stays awake for one and a half hours. 3am... In comes a poorly Olly, 3:10am... exits a husband who needs to sleep for his race. Deja Vu of Friday night...

Sunday morning, up yours light mornings, UP YOURS (flipping the bird to the bright sky) 6:30am... Momma, Daddy and Nancy all up.  6:50am... Olly is up. 7am.. Olly projectile vomit, luckily on the bay window sill not the vile sofa, which can't possibly handle any more chunder.  7:15am... bye hubs, happy running!

11:50am... Hubs returns; 10K in 36 minutes and 27 seconds, I just wish he could move his arse that quick when I ask him to do something!!!

Olly has retired to his bedroom with his sick bowl, water, rich tea biscuits and plain hula hoops to watch The Good Dinosaur and Andy's Dinosaur Adventures. He has taken the ipad with him for good measure so he can watch Walking with Dinosaurs on Netflix simultaneously (do you see the theme) Steve has taken the much better princess for a stroll round the Castle with Molly, his Mum and Stepdad.

And me? I managed a bath, a real life bath, with actual bubbles.  Not mine though, good old Mateys, stolen from Olly! I even managed to stay in until I had prune like fingers and toes! I now sit, with my wet hair in a turban on Ollys bedroom floor, with my towel wrapped round me, pins and needles in my legs, completing this post. And do you know what? I almost feel like I've had a bout of therapy...

Writing is clearly good for my soul, it's also given what friends I have left on facebook a break from my bitching!  I hope not to leave it so long next time xxx

BHD (bad hair day)

As an adult there are many times I've questioned if leaving the house with a bag on my head would be acceptable.  I was blessed or cursed (at 32 it's still undecided) with rather large hair, to accompany my rather large arse and rather large boobs! (second two came after children)

Unfortunately for my boy, he seems to have inherited the massive hair gene. His dad also has a bit of a white 'fro when it grows too long. The poor kid never stood a chance!

As a baby, up until he was 2 and a half, Olly had the most gorgeous golden ringlets. Often he was mistaken for a girl due to his lustres locks. It wasn't until I surprised the hubs with a trip to Dubai for his 30th that we cut his hair in to a "proper" boys "short back and sides". Before this he looked like a GAP advert kid or surfer dude. The hubs told me it was cruel taking him to such a hot climate with hair that add to the increase in his own body temperature. So off came the curls and along came the floods of tears from one totally emosh momma.

After he had his curls cut off, his hair became increasingly difficult to control. He can go to bed with a tamed, flat mop and wake up like he's been wrestling with crocodiles. Every day is a battle to flatten it down with a water sprayer and comb. Then, if time, a blast from the hair dryer followed by some styling wax.

Each morning we do it before school, sometimes it point blank, does not want to conform. On these days I am grateful for cold mornings and woolly hats that help with the flattening process!

There are the occasional days where we don't have time to really style his hair and sods law one of those days would happen to be (unknown to me) the day of school photos.  It was quite mild on said morning, so a hat in the car was a big NO from the bear. He sat in his booster seat looking out the window, rubbing his head side to side on the head rest.

By the time we arrived at school, he stepped out of the car and his hair was WILD at the back, like a nest and we had nothing to tame it.  As we walked up to the school gates I am trying to flatten it at the back. We arrive at the picket fence and as he crosses the gate (where parents are forbidden) I hear one of the other parents say to their child "make sure you smile nicely"

I have a deep sinking, sicky feeling in my tummy. Nooooooo. Not school photos please!

Yep, school photos. Missed that memo didn't I? I look at his hair and try to get him to come back to me but he's more interested in the class room and getting up to no good!  Don't worry says his TA, I'll make sure he looks ok!

I remember my mum telling me a story about my oldest sister going to school with bunches for her first school photo and she took them out just before the pictures were taken cause she wanted her hair down. Mum said the pictures were awful!

I've pretty much resided to the fact his first school photo will not be one from the mantle piece, more so his journey through life box of memories. I'm fairly confident we'll be presented with a picture of our little scrummy bum looking like he's been electrocuted!

Turning over a new (not brown) leaf

4 weeks in, one "can I have a word" situations and a week off school sick. It was time for the bear to return.

"I promise momma, I will be a good, good boy, I will try my hardest to be on the green leaf and bring floppy home!" Credit where credits due, this 4 year old can talk the talk. He had me eating out of his hand on the journey to school, totally sold his new found good behaviour to me!

I dropped him at the reception gate, gave him a kiss and walked off secretly crossing my fingers for a good end of day report. I had convinced myself maybe the prior mishaps had been down to tiredness and coming down with the sickness bug.

Flash forward 6 and a half hours, I was back at the Reception picket fence waiting to collect him. The hubs had got progressively worse and was in a taxi on his way to the club doctor as the headache that he had had for the past 3 days had reached maximum unbearable-ness.

Out come the children being dismissed to parents and then I see the old pattern forming, Lightening is avoiding eye contact. Shit, it's Deja freaking Vu.  It always happens when I need to be somewhere.  Finally it appears all the class bar 2 or 3 have been dismissed.

"we've had a terrible day, utterly silly choices" at this point I despair. Words fail me. There's only so many times you can say sorry. In my head I'm considering apologising in a different language so I don't sound so repetitive. I can say sorry in Spanish and then draw a blank, my bilingual skills leave a little to be desired.  I know it's serious today as the head on my boy is hanging low.

Now Olly is a risk taker, but not that clever at thinking up the ideas. If some presents him with an opportunity regardless of the risk involved, he'll take it. He will totally risk it for a biscuit.

Todays mishap... Whilst doing Harvest Festival vegetable prints outside, him and 2 accomplices decide to paint their hands and decorate the wooden tower and slide in their Reception outdoor area.  I felt like I had steam coming out my nose, ears, mouth, everywhere. Olly has NEVER drawn, scribbled, painted anywhere he shouldn't at home or pre-school. We've been really lucky. But here, on this day he has. I'm the first to admit he is no angel but I also know this was no brain child of his. He was merely a sheep that had been caught in the act.  So of course, Brown Leaf for the bear, he bypassed the 3 warnings.

Then during afternoon carpet time he got in an "altercation" with another student and found himself in the head of KS1 classroom.

The boy had his tail firmly between his legs.  As we walked back to the car I get the call to say the hubs is been taken to hospital... When it rains it really bloody well pours.

My mum came over to sort the children so I could get to the hospital and put them in bed. Olly didn't really understand what was going on. Steve is often away with work on over night stays so this wasn't unusual for Olly but my mum had told him daddy was poorly and had gone to get better.

Tuesday I took Olly to school and Nancy to her first proper day at the child minders, she was only doing half a day.

My mum and dad collected Olly from school and when I got back to theirs from the hospital I was greeted with a big smile and the news that he had only bloody well made the GREEN LEAF!!! So out comes to crazy mum dance (imagine my arms rowing a boat and my legs riding a bike at the same time) the infamous "sprinkler" move came out and general celebration stupidity!!

I dropped him at school on the Wednesday morning and again prayed for a good day, dropped Nancy at the child minders and proceeded to the hospital.
My parents collected both children today so I could stay at the hospital to speak with the specialist.
When I arrived at their house Olly had a visitor with him. FLOPPY DOG!!! We had finally made Star of the Day! This was a HUGE deal! Out came the cringe worthy moves again but the boy was made up!  And Steve started to feel better! 

Not sure if in Olly's little head he thinks his good behaviour  helped his daddy get better but we have turned a new leaf, Floppy has been to our house twice in the space of a week!  Olly has been promoted from Milk helper to Cloak Room Tidier!  Along with a little girl in his class called Heidi.  She even encouraged him to try carrots at lunch (which he hates) because they make you "see in the dark" however he did say he still doesn't like them and if he needs to see in the dark, he'll get a torch!!!

It's our first parents evening tomorrow night, it will be interesting to hear more about our character!
 
Kids! Just another day... But long may it continue!

Quarantine Quarters; The Sick House

It's taken us 4 years but we finally had Olly christened, it hasn't helped that his godfather lives in Dubai, so getting him over hasn't been the easiest task. However, in the end it worked in our favour and we were able to get our munchkins christened together. Perfect.

And that's what it was; a perfect day. The weather was beautiful, those important to us were there, the children behaved and the Reverend introduced me to my new favourite hymn; a chant with bongo drums!

We were fortunate enough to have friends and family travel from near and far to spend the day with us. As mentioned, Olly's godfather and his fiancé Sam flew in from Dubai for the weekend. It was an express visit and we tried to spend as much time with them as possible. After the christening reception, they came back to our house to gauge on left over cake and chill out before they headed back to the land of sand the next day.

As the evening crept in, the bear didn't quite seem himself, he was burning up, very sleepy and very clingy. He didn't even want to open his cards and presents. It wasn't long after our guests had left that he vomited all over our bed. Like a tap that wouldn't switch off it just kept coming. I hate sick, detest it. In my younger years I'd have rather have been ill for days than be physically sick. Now here I find myself running towards it hands cupped trying to catch it.

Rules of school say 48 hours off from the last bout of sickness. I bet Lightening was thanking her lucky stars following the end of last week. So Monday and Tuesday he spent the majority of time sleeping. On the Wednesday I packed him up ready to go back to school, he seemed to have improved Tuesday afternoon and evening. But by lunch time I had received a call to collect him. We visited the GP Thursday morning and he had Friday off too. He had a viral infection and was generally exhausted, he just needed rest and lots of TLC.

Wednesday saw Nancy tag team Olly and join the sick club. She showered me in projectile vomit, literally everywhere. I stood dripping with sick in the kitchen as the hubs just stood there and watched. I had to get changed on the spot and when I went to the bathroom I had a big sploge in my hair, looked very similar to that scene in the film "There's something about Mary" it was horrible.  Luckily by Friday Nancy was pretty much back to normal.

The hubs came home ill on Thursday too. He's still training for his marathon which is on 25th October. His immune system is pretty low with all the training he is doing and he's not really giving himself enough time to recover.  As he works in professional sport he was told to keep away until he was better as they couldn't afford for the players to catch what he had as he works so closely.

Now he doesn't like me talking about him on here, I don't know why, I'm not even sure that many people read it! But in short over the weekend he got progressively worse and by Monday was hospitalised. Very scary. Lots of wires, lots of tests, lots of terms being thrown around, CT scans, Lumber Punctures, Blood tests, Morphine, Anti Sickness drips.

After a number of days in hospital I was glad to bring him home! He's now back to marathon training and has the big day this Sunday! He is aiming for under 3 hours and is raising money for Autism Awareness in Derby. I am super proud of him! He never fails to amaze me with his can do mentally.... Good Luck Mr H!xxx

Can I have a word please...

What a roller coaster these past 7 weeks have been! My little man all grown up and at full time school... I was praying his mischievous character wouldn't get him on the wrong side of his teacher early doors, but who was I kidding. The saying isn't famous without reason. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.

Second week in, it's Thursday and I go to pick my monster up from school, as all the children are being dismissed from the Reception gate, I try to catch Lightening McQueen's eye to let her know "I'm here" but she looks beyond me. So I shuffle around a bit, Cooey, I'm here, even do that awkward, can you see me wave which I'm returned with an index finger (signalling 1 minute) in the air. Christ. And then follow those 6 words that you don't really want to hear...

"Can I have a word please?"

On the Wednesday night Olly had been in and out of his room all night and was a nightmare getting ready for school in the morning. We were both exhausted but I hoped when he got to school he would perk up and be alright.  Maybe he'd be one of those kids that fell asleep on the carpet during afternoon story time because it's all got "a bit too much"

My bear is the last one in the class to be let out.  He has been on a boundary pushing bender. I could feel my face and ears burning.  I'm relieved that no other parents are there to hear but also want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. I know he can be a little sod for us but you hope when your children are in other surroundings, with other people, that they'll behave. Oh no, not Olly. Olly will see just how far he can get.

I'm told he has spent the majority of the day on the brown leaf. Let me explain the behaviour hierarchy...

The Tree - all children in the class start the day here.
The Green Leaf - for children who make "good choices" or do something that deserves praise
The Sunflower - For the king-ding-a-lings of the class. The pinnacle.
THE BROWN LEAF - for children who have received 3 warnings and STILL make BAD CHOICES
Floppy dog - A teddy bear that is called Floppy from the Biff and Chip books, he and his diary go home with a child from the class who is star of the day

There was one little lad in his class that had been put on "the brown leaf" one day and took it upon himself at break time to pop back in to the class and put himself back on the tree. I pissed myself at this, fair play! He obviously felt he'd done his time. I heard this didn't go down too well.  I was secretly pleased this wasn't Olly though, but in hindsight maybe that would've have welcomed a bit more than being kept behind.

Now I was no angel and school, but no demon for that matter too. I was rent-a-gob, far too much to say.  I remember being sent to the head teachers office in year 5 during sports day after calling someone in my class a twat. He was and it was deserved. I should perhaps mention that this word was part of my families every day lingo and was thrown around loosely. So to make it to 10 years old without getting in trouble for using the word was both a miracle and achievement in itself.

Anyhow. I digress. I am informed that Lightening McQueen has used all her usual methods to encourage better choices with no success so the threat of speaking to "mum" at the end of the day was extreme measures. As she's stood telling me all about it, Olly looks quite frankly, like he couldn't give a shit. In the car he advises me that school isn't really his thing. He'd like to be 3 again and go back to pre-school to play with Emily.

Due to his actions and us being kept back, we were now running late for swimming lessons. Most parents will probably understand the struggle of keeping to a tight deadline with after school activities. Thursday is swimming day, we finish school at 3:30pm get back to the car for 3:40-45pm, drive across the city to venue for swimming, arrive at 4:10pm, get changed and do a quick toilet stop, on poolside for 4:25pm ready for a 4:30pm start.  We were at least 10 minutes behind schedule. I was blowing steam out my arse. Olly was very blasé about it all.

We have a chat in the car and decide when we get home from swimming we will make sorry cards for Lightening and his TA.  And we do.

Friday on the way to school he tells me how he's going to try his hardest to get on the green leaf and when we arrive at school hands his sorry cards to his teacher and TA. They are a little shocked to receive them but thank him and we all raise and imaginary glass to the fact it's a new day, fresh start and TFI Friday!

3:30pm I go to collect the boy. I'm feeling secretly confident we will have had a better day. She opens the class door, then gate. Lightening looks as though she needs to go for a swim in a pool of wine.

THE LITTLE SOD WAS WORSE....

I apologise and scarper, stern words to be had in the car... It may be his christening weekend but treats will be rationed and he will understand bad behaviour is not rewarded. Changes will be made and Monday will be different. And it was. Olly picked up a sickness bug and wasn't allowed to go to school... 

Which now takes me on to the worst week of 2015....