It’s My Party I’ll Dance If I Want To
So, yesterday I was confronted in the parking-lot by one of the school mums (car park mum). She told me that I had to stop writing things on the internet. She said that my Blog was making me appear mentally unstable….(There seems to me to be an awful lot of Blogs on the internet. I’m wondering if she would class these authors as unstable also??).
For me, blogging is my voice. As a SAHM I often turn to social media for adult interaction during the sometimes, very long, and often lonely days. Reading about others experiences on their Blogs and on twitter has really made me feel less isolated and alone. Reading about others has also helped me support and validate my choice to be SAHM. Over the past two weeks I have had readers from all over the world look at MY Blog, MY thoughts and MY stories.
‘Two Honeymooners and a baby vs two American cops and a yellow fluffy duck’
For today’s blog post I’m going to take you back to March 2008, when my wife, our eldest daughter O. (then 11 months) and I went on our Honeymoon.
We had decided to do something a bit different for this. Rather than spending 3 weeks on a beach somewhere hot, we booked to travel by car from Las Vegas to San Francisco. One of the influencing factors was because we thought it would have been unfair on O. to be in the soaring heat of a tropical beach destination. It was a great decision and without doubt the best 3 weeks of our lives – we saw the Grand Canyon, we drove through Death Valley, stopping off at Ghost Towns along the way, stayed in Yosemite National Park (our favourite place on Earth) and drank wine in Napa Valley before finishing up in the amazing San Francisco.
O., had a great time too and charmed the Americans no end and they made a huge fuss of her back.
Actually, I say she had a good time but we did get off to a bit of a shaky start and the whole Honeymoon could have turned out a whole lot differently…
Santa is a busy man
Now that we’ve accepted that it’s full steam ahead with the build-up to Christmas, we have begun ordering Lego by the truckload. It seemed only right and proper to check with The Seven Year Old that we were actually purchasing the items he most desired. And so, with a little encouragement, he carefully put together a list ordered by preference whilst I bit my tongue and resisted asking just how much Lego is too much Lego for one household???
Christmas Gift Ideas…
I have, for some time, been an outright hater of Christmas… a real ‘Scrooge’! Everything about it would bug me; from the commercialism surrounding the day, through to the suffocating family obligations. However, since the birth of my daughter, I have progressively softened my views and begun to relax into the festivities, with a renewed child-like enthusiasm at the prospect of seeing my daughter’s own excitement in the build-up… from the decoration of the tree, through to the unwrapping of the presents.
It is with this new-found enthusiasm that I find myself pondering over the types of presents I should be wrapping and the Christmas outfit with which to adorn my daughter this year. So far, each year, we have restricted the number of presents from relatives to avoid the clutter created by those nasty waste-of-space, plastic-fantastic, never-to-be-used again gifts that sit in the attic until they’re rediscovered several years later and end up amongst the rubbish piles or deftly redistributed.
With just ten-days until Christmas remaining, and five until the postage deadline on mail order, I thought I would share my search experience this year, having already discovered a few little gems to suit a range of age groups…
Why am I doing this for?
I read quite a few blogs. All mummy blogs. I like to read and see how other mummies get on with their lives. How they look, their children, what activities they do. Then I like to compare them to me. Which only now I am realising that it is not good. Everyone is different.
I decided to write a blog, after many failed attempts. I wanted a place to write and be honest about me.
There are many things that have happened to me and my family over the last few years, that I haven’t been able to talk to people about. Fear of embarrassment, failure and being thought of as stupid. (Apart from hubby, I have 2 good friends who actually know everything B & P xx).
I want this blog to be about me honestly, so other people can relate to a ‘real’ mum. I want to say that it is not all good being a mummy. Not all happiness and laughter.
The wrong trousers
I need to get this off my chest… Today I forgot to send my son to school in his tracksuit bottoms. Don’t worry, he is wearing trousers, just the wrong ones. This leisurewear fiasco has led me to thinking about all the things that make me feel like a crap mum. Here are my top 5…
Shopping with my hormones
…has lead me to realise that something really needs to be done about maternity clothes on the High Street.
We went out for our last day of Christmas shopping yesterday. I had a few pressies still to buy for my family and had to find some clothes that fit. I had spent the night with a jammie top that just wouldn’t cover my belly whatever way I tugged it and my Rapunzel laughing at me in the morning saying, “Mummy no clothes are going to fit you anymore. Your tummy is soooo big!”
So off we went and did really well with the presents. When it came to the clothes, “Gwaaaarr,” is the best description! The only shop I made it to with maternity clothes was New Look. They used to have a bigger range, though it seems that pregnant women do not wear new clothes during the festive period.
MYA’S MUSINGS (Mya – 19 months)
Everyone is going on about Crismiss.
What is this voodoo that has taken over the world?
It all started with a tree.
I thought Great, I love a bit of nature in the home but then came the giant box of sparkles and lights and glittery balls which Mum and Dad told me I could chuck on the tree. I took the most literal translation and lobbed the glitter balls at it Olympic shot put style!
But then the once lovely, green tree looked more like a survivor from an explosion at a glitter factory.
I keep trying to steal the glitter balls when mum isn’t looking so the poor tree can reclaim some dignity but Mum usually catches me and makes me put them back.
If the tree thing wasn’t bad enough we went shopping the other day.
I was well excited because mum kept saying we had to go buy presents! But we got to the shops and, I shiz you not, we were there for hours and I didn’t get one present. Not one! …
My Happy Place
I have a secret to share that will probably shock you, maybe even amaze you. Are you ready? Come a little closer…really lean into your computer because this is a little embarrassing…brace yourself…take a deep breath…here it goes…I’m a huge dork. Now, please calm yourselves. Stop gnashing your teeth and pulling out your hair. Put down the baby. I’m sorry that you had to learn about it like this.
Now I know what you’re thinking. “This can’t be true MD. You come across as so cool and awesome, dare I say even heroic.” I know, I know. I could only keep it secret for so long, so it’s probably better that you hear it from me. I can see that some of you are still in disbelief, so let me give you some examples.
12 days of Buffy : prophecy girl
…Yes, there were a lot of tears. Yes, I probably am quite loopy for how emotionally involved I was and still am with this programme. Yes, I’m fully aware it’s not real. BUT, all of those emotions translate into real life, and into my life.
I never particularly thought about my own mortality until I had children. Now I am scared by death. I don’t want to leave my boys without a mother or my husband without his wife. I don’t want to die.
This feeling extends to my wider family as well. Recently my mum and dad have been making Wills and asked whether there is anything I would like as a keepsake to remember them by. I can’t think about this. I don’t want my mum and dad to die. I want them to be around forever.
I may not be a slayer but the responsibility of being a mum weighs heavily on me at times.
Curly Mum On Christmas
I don’t think there’s any use denying it any more. The weather is cold yet the streets are packed, High Streets have been decorated with lights and banners for a couple of months now, and every day my daughter asks me the same question: ‘Mummy, how many days until it’s Christmas?’ The festive period is in full swing and Christmas Day is very nearly upon us…
Strictly a Strictly Fan: taking my new baby home
I am a Strictly addict.
Not only are there the delights of sequins and Anton’s cardigans, I have a soppy reason.
As I prepared to take Wriggles home from SCBU, I “roomed in” as she was coming home on oxygen.
I very proudly wheeled the cot to ‘my’ room. It felt unbelievably intrepid to go 10m away unsupervised. But the sense of pride is pushing my baby, proclaiming ownership for one utterly beautiful infant, was amazing. Two long months and this was the first time that the pair of us had been alone together.
It was all too much for her so she had a nap before settling down to watch Ann Widdicombe galumph around as a Christmas tree fairy. Being alone was a big deal for me. Obviously I knew she was mine, I had given birth after all, but the overwhelming nature of the last months had not seemed real up until now.
I don’t think she was overly impressed with Strictly Come Dancing. I couldn’t even say with confidence she was overly impressed with me. But I had located my inner mummy at last and welcomed the first night of hedgehog-like snuffling, night feeds and disruptions. Bliss!
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Where a I? Here I am!
I don’t remember who now, but someone said to me the other day “did you ever think you’d be doing this?” We were probably watching baby telly, discussing the merits of the Night Garden, and yes, yes I did.
Especially with Christmas approaching (I only wanted to have children so I can have fun Christmas’ for ever)…