Category Archives: Personal

Letter to My Son – Adam – 8 Months Old

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Dear Adam

Yesterday you were 8 months old and Mummy is sorry she is a day late with this.  Daddy was away this week for 2 nights and you kept Mummy hopping!

You have come on leaps and bounds in the past month.

You talk.  Oh, not in English, but with vowels and consonants and what seem to be sentences that actually mean something.  At least to you.

You move.  Oh, not on all fours in a crawl but you can shift yourself while on your tummy to reach for a toy.  Or Mummy’s glasses.

You stand.  Oh, not on your own, but if someone holds you up, your legs are strong and sure now.  And how you love when Daddy helps you leap into the air!

I can stand, with Daddy's help!

You sleep through.  Oh, not every night, but maybe 4 out of 7?  And of the remaining 3 most of the wake ups are just calls for your dummy.  So only one night a week when Mummy or Daddy  have to actually get you out of bed.  Not too shabby.

You eat solid food.  Oh, not by yourself, with mummy or daddy’s help.  But sometimes you try.  That’s fun for them!

When I feed myself...

No, you still don’t roll from your back to your tummy, but you are so.very.close.  It amazes me that you don’t, that’s how close you are.  It surely takes more energy to roll back to your back than it would to roll that last little bit to your tummy!

We still don’t know what The Lump is as your appointment was cancelled.  But your next appointment is this coming Monday, 15th February and then maybe we’ll know.  And what the doctors intend to do about it.  Its been a long wait.

Daddy and I have discovered that you love being upside down.  Mummy likes to carry you like that, facing out, holding on tight!  You laugh and laugh and laugh.  Daddy likes to lift you by your feet while you’re on the bed.  Full on belly laughs.

Mummy also discovered that your ribs are ticklish!  The one spot she’s found that almost always makes you laugh.

You’re getting so big, my son.  And Mummy is loving watching you learn.

Love

Mummy

Another Mummy Thing I Don’t ‘Get’

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So I was reading a thread on Mumsnet the other day from a woman looking for ways to help her friend who had a newborn.  The poor friend was just exhausted, as you are, but felt like she couldn’t ask for help or go out of the house for a change of scene because the baby cried so loudly.  That part I can understand, although I also now understand that that’s what baby’s do and everyone else can just deal with it.  And newborn cries are really only very loud to their mummies!

The part I don’t understand is people’s responses along the lines of ‘oh I know, its so difficult to get out of the house with a baby.  It takes ages.  They need so much stuff!!!’

They do?  Like what?

Adam and I go out pretty much daily for at least an hour and half to two hours.  What do I take? Adam, the pram, a few nappies just in case and some wipes.  And the nappies and wipes live permanently in the bag attached to the pram.

Now, I do have a fully stocked diaper bag with changes of clothes, bottles, premade formula more nappies etc.  But I do not take it out with me every time I leave the house.  That’s for longer trips, such as when we had to be at the hospital for his MRI.

Even yesterday, when we were out a bit longer thanks to my having a fasting blood test and going to a cafe afterwards so I could eat, all I added to the nappy bag on the pram was a bottle, a covered bowl with some porridge ready to have water added, a small bottle with said water, an empty bottle and some formula.  Oh and half a banana!

But I see these parents out and about in City Centre, with children about Adam’s age, so they aren’t all that new to this parent lark, with huge bags of stuff hanging off their prams.  What could they possibly need for a quick trip to City Centre?  Even if they get stuck out longer than expected, Boots is right there, so it is always possible to buy emergency supplies!

So what am I missing?  Am I suppose to change Adam’s clothes every so often, even when clean, like he’s the host of the Oscars?  Or change his nappy every hour on the hour, even when dry?

Or am I, in this, as in so many other things, just a very laid back mummy?

Random Thoughts On A Tuesday

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How tired do you have to look to have a checkout lady at Tesco, who you’ve never seen before, tell you you look tired?

Adam pulling his hat off and placing it carefully under the bar on his pram led to rapid thoughts of ‘OMG how clever, darn you your head is going to be cold, no stop growing up so fast’.

The closing of the charity shop just up the street means I have to find a new charity shop to donate to.  Darn it, it was so convenient too!

I do believe my son feels about bananas the same way I do, YUCK.  But I will try him with the other half tomorrow just to make sure.

I really should do the shredding.

And the filing.

And maybe fold some laundry.

Nah…

To Schedule or Not To Schedule, That Is The Question…

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The schedule versus no schedule debate is almost as hot as breast feeding versus formula.  In fact, its been in the news lately, as LibDem MP Nick Clegg basically told schedule guru Gina Ford she was an idiot. Although not to her face.

The one thing I always knew I wanted, when I had a baby, was to not have a schedule or a routine.  My whole life was one big schedule, thanks to being a PA, and I always thought it would be nice, once I had a baby, to just go with the flow.

So I did.  Adam was (and still is) fed on demand.  For his first few months he stayed up until he fell asleep.  And so on.

And then the little stinker did something that still amazes me.  He created his own schedule.

It started at bed time.  Simon and I are not stupid.  When a baby gets cranky beyond belief around 8pm? That’s when he should be going to sleep.  So we moved our dinner time earlier so we could start Adam’s bed time (gulp) routine at 7.  And if we are even a bit late starting? He let’s us know he’s ready for his bath and his bed.

And then, just recently, as he’s started to sleep through more and more often, I realized he’s also set a schedule for the day time.  He wakes up between 5 and 6, at which point whichever parent is on duty gets up, gives him his dummy and tells him to go back to sleep.  Which sometimes works.  Yesterday, for example, he woke up at 5, but I managed to get him back to sleep until 6.

So up by 6.  Bottle.  During the week, 7 is chair time as Simon and I have breakfast, or, if I need to be somewhere, I take a shower and then eat.

745 Simon is out of the shower and Adam goes and plays with Simon while Simon gets dressed.

0800? Have a good day Daddy!

0815 – 0830? Fast asleep.

0900 – 0915? Back awake, time for another bottle and some porridge please mummy!

0930?  Time to dress me mummy!  Why yes, overalls would be lovely today.

1000?  Yayaya bouncy chair!  Get in the shower mummy, I’m ready to go go go!!!!

1030?  Let’s go for a walk/to the shops/anywhere please!!!

1045? zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz in my pram while mummy pushes me!!

12 – 1230?  Home again home again jiggedy jig!  Ooh, clean bottom how nice…can I have some rice and veg now? And then some milk? YUM!!

1230 Disco Saucer time!!! Who knew Mummies needed to eat too?

1330 – 1400 zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz nap time!

1430 – 1500 If mummy’s lucky I’ll sleep a whole entire hour!!!!!!

1500 – 1600 Ahh, nothing as nice as lying in mummy’s arms waking up.  Oh yes, please, I would like to play with my Mickey Mouse!

1600 More milk please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1700 Kick kick kick in my chair.  What’s mummy doing? Oooh, washing my bottles.  What a nice mummy!

1720 Snuggle in mummy’s arms again.

1730 What’s that I hear? Daddy’s HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1730 – 1830 Play with daddy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I think Mummy’s cooking dinner.

1830 – 1900 In my high chair, playing and being with mummy and daddy while they eat!

1900 Bathtime!

1930 Bottle time!

2000 zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The times are not that precise, obviously, but pretty close.

And so my wishes for no schedule have gone out the window.

Darn it.

I Felt Like Such A Bad Mother The Other Day

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Anyone who reads this blog for anything more than 2 seconds knows that I have quite a few health problems.  Fibromyalgia.  Type II diabetes.  Anxiety Disorder.  Borderline Agoraphobia.  Early Degenerative Disease.

And I do everything in my power to not let these  things affect the care of my son.  I had a horrible fibro flair a few months ago and I managed to take care of him.

And then came this past Wednesday morning.  When I woke up with a borderline migraine.

Now, other than a reaction to some stuff I took for my fibro right after diagnosis, I haven’t had a migraine in ages.  I never have any warning that I am going to get them.  They just show up.

So when Adam got me up about 530 Wednesday morning, I was hurting.  And nauseated.  And ready to steel myself to get through the day.  I certainly could not ask Simon to take the day off.  I would manage.

And then Simon got up for work.  And took one look at me and said ‘Do you want me to stay home?’

At first I said no, no way.  I can manage.  I have to manage.

But he kept asking.  And when it got to the point that I thought for sure I was going to have to puke I finally said ‘yes, please, stay home. I need to go back to bed.’  And I did.

And I felt like the worse mother ever.  Mother’s are suppose to muddle through, no matter what.  They are suppose to put everything to one side; pain, illness, sleep, to care for their children.  And I just couldn’t on Wednesday.

I know, if Simon hadn’t been able to stay home, or had been on one of his trips, I would have managed.  But I still felt horrible that I didn’t manage.  That I, in the end, leapt at the chance to stay in bed for the day and not have to manage.

I know I am lucky that Simon could do that.  And I am very thankful for it.

But, still, I felt like a bad mother.

Of course, most anything can make a person feel like a bad mother.  There is so much competition out there, so much ‘my baby does this’ and ‘how can you not do that’.

Well, I lay enough guilt on myself for the decisions I make, I have decided to not play the ‘my baby is better than yours’ game.  I refuse.

Although I am looking for a baby yoga or baby signing class, its part of the reason I am so reluctant to join a Mummy and Baby group.

That and the fact I’ll probably be about 20 years older than all of them.