Jessica’s birth story
So there Mark and I stood, on the street outside our house at 3.40am, listening to the village silence and whispering like wayward teenagers. I don’t think I’d been outside in the early hours since Joel was born. With the cold air hitting my lungs and Mark’s arm around my shoulders, it felt more like the end of a night out than the start of labour.
Out with the old…
On October 16, 2011, Fauja Singh crossed the finish line in the ScotiaBank Toronto Waterfront Marathon in 8hrs, 25mins and 16 seconds. He was 100 years old.
Now …before you start freaking out about an impending a lecture on the benefits of exercise, please don’t despair. Because this story is more about Mr Singh’s wife than Mr Singh per se. And no, I’m not about to burst into a rendition of “Stand by your man” either. Tammy nailed it – I could never do it justice.
You see, what I find interesting is that Mr Singh took up “serious” running only 11 years ago at the age of 89… after the death of his wife and son. He needed something to fill the hole that was left by their sudden departure from his life … and running marathons was it.
From One Year to the Next
I can’t believe how excited I am about Christmas this year. Since the start of November I have been listening to Christmas songs, planning shopping days and wanting to put the decorations up. Normally I am a “no decorations until two weeks before Christmas” type person, but this year they were up the first weekend of December and we went and bought outside lights for the tree in the front garden. We’ll ignore the fact that they are solar powered and only stay on for about half an hour!
I think there are two main contributing factors to my injection of Christmas spirit this year. The first is that my little boy is at an age where he is interested in Christmas. He doesn’t know what it is or why we celebrate it, but he knows there are trees with pretty things on that he can pull off, he likes the lights on people’s houses and I’m sure he will be excited by the presents. He has seen a string of birthdays, including his own, over the last couple of months and has definitely got the concept that wrapping paper is fun to tear and underneath are normally toys…
Flashback – A Birth Story
A year ago last Thursday our gorgeous little girl came into the world, it wasn’t exactly straight forward or easy (but what birth is!?!) but she made it here just fine. I spent alot of Thursday thinking ‘this time a year ago…’ and when re-read my birth story last night it bought a little tear to my eye, I just had to share it again. So here is the slightly traumatic and really quite quick way Francesca made her way into the world…
Mum’s the word
It’s true what they say. When you become a mother yourself, you see your own mother in a whole new light.
I certainly realised once I became a mother, that being a mother can be tough. Making decisions about how you bring up your children, and understanding that everything you do now has an impact on someone else’s life is a big thing to get your head around. And I still have years of that ahead of me (and some big decisions such as schooling, allowing independence, and the whole minefield of boyfriends/girlfriends etc…) – whereas my mother has been doing it for over 30 years already…
…It seems that although I no longer feature that line, its certainly still relevant. This is because in the last week, my family discovered my blog. And they (my mother in particular) are not amused…
Bring on the Gin….
Talking of Waitrose, I should tell you about my trip there yesterday. Typically, Littlest was bright as anything the whole way there and fell asleep as I entered the car park. I didn’t have a lot to get so I thought I’d stick her in the buggy so she could sleep. The buggy was nestled under 2 enormous sacks of dog food in the boot which I can’t lift so I wrestled it out from underneath them and in doing so managed to bend it so I could only put it up with brute force and then the handles were touching each other so God knows what I’ve done to it. Anyway, all this kerfuffle did not an easy transition make. She woke and paddied all the way around Waitrose. I went for the quick scan option and was shoving my shopping into the two bags hanging on the back of the buggy. Three aisles in and I had already had three sympathetic comments from the nice John Lewis ladies who could tell by my face that I was struggling to keep composed. Then we hit the biscuit aisle …
Read more on my blog!
‘Tijm, come and eat your breakfast.’
The lego click, clicks.
‘Tijm, stop with the lego and come to the table. Now.’
Step by step he saunters over.
‘Do you want cereals? Or toast?’
He thinks for a moment. ‘Cereals. Weetabix, chocolate stars and raisins, but no milk. And marmite toast.’
Without thinking I mix his usual blend of cereals and put the bowl in front of him.
Immediately he bursts out. ‘No rice crispies, I said no rice crispies.’
‘What do you mean no rice crispies? You always have rice crispies.’
‘I Said No Rice Crispies Mama.’
The Mum Factor
Queues form snaking around an awaiting auditorium. An open mouth ready to swallow up naive and ambitious women. Women who have come from far and wide, left their children, their reason d’etre, to be here. Now in a queue, a big queue, for their chance to audition for The Mum Factor*
The stage is set, backstage staff scuffle with clip boards and head pieces. They mutter to, what seems like, themselves about stage left and stage right about the follow spot, until the first nervous Mummy is ushered forward, microphone thrust in to shaking hand. Her Ugg wearing feet cross to the ‘M’ marked on the centre of this grand stage. Lights dazzle her eyes and illuminate her post baby figure. She takes a breath, calms herself. This is it, her moment, her time to shine.
hit the road jack….
yesterday i had a very stressed friend of mine quizzing me on what to do about getting shot of her daughters beloved dummy. she really had gotten herself into quite a tiz and knew it that it needed to be done, but the thought of making the first move was terrifying her. weirdly i came home and someone tweeted exactly the same thing. so i have decided to care to share.
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…