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
