I became a statistic...

So I considered blogging for a long time before I actually took the step to begin; it wasn't that I didn't want to try it, it was that it seemed a bit daunting.  I worried about keeping up with what I'd planned to do, I worried that expressing my opinion on aspects of parenting would leave me wide open to criticism and mostly I worried that no one would ever bother reading because there are already so many fantastic blogs linked to parenting out there.  I've always wanted to be a writer and a blog seemed like the ideal way to fulfill that ambition, so I took the plunge and wrote my first post.  They say 'write about what you know' but I like to think of this as writing about what I don't know and I'm sure many of you can relate.

Shortly after I'd posted my first post I read an article about how most bloggers are lost in the abyss of 'forgotten' blogs within 2 months of starting and this worried me a great deal.  Writing is far more than putting words down on a page, so I always thought that starting it and then abandoning it would be quite sad really.  This is probably why I hadn't started before and when I did start I couldn't imagine just not writing anything for a few months.

Before I knew it, life got in the way and my blog appeared to have suffered the same fate as so many before it, despite all of my good intentions.  It was another article that popped up on my Facebook newsfeed that prompted me to get back into it, it was about how bloggers are not taken seriously and explained that despite so many people making a successful living out of their blogs they are still not considered 'employment'.  It made me think about how useful blogs actually are, both for the writer and the reader.  For the writer you have that release of putting all of your thoughts down in one place; for the reader there is that relief that someone else is going through something similar.  For both there is that sense of connection and empathy which, lets face it, is imperative when trying to survive as a parent. I'm just not sure how anyone can justify that blogging is not employment, not when there are so many people out there who make a very fortunate living out of their talent.

Now I'm in no way proclaiming that I am one of those people, but the fact that the article got me so riled up really pushed me into having another go.  Who cares if sometimes I get it wrong?  Who cares that I have no actual pictures on my blog?  Who cares that some days just blur into others and I don't write for a while.  There is one thing that us parents need to remember.  We need to remember to take time out for ourselves and whatever form that takes we need to embrace it and treat it with the same importance as getting a decent sleep.  Blogging makes me happy, so I'm embracing it in the same way I embraced roller skating as a child - getting straight back up once I hit the floor.

Disorganised Organisation

I've come to realise, since I hit my 30s, I've become a definite creature of habit.  Before children my organisation was done in my head and I knew exactly which heap every single item I owned was in.  Now everything has its place; I strive to avoid piles of washing everywhere, everything gets ironed, Small Boy and Smaller Boy have regular toy rotations, the tv is only on for specific shows. A sign of maturity?  A sign of being a proper grown up?  No, I don't think it is. Despite being more organised on the outside, I have a mind which resembles my sock drawer. I was much more organised and efficient before I started trying to be and I have to-do lists for my to-do lists.

For instance, I now have everything we need for the next day prepared and in the right place the night before, all carefully completed from the to-do list and the sub to-do list.  Bags are packed and by the door; shoes are out and the keys are in the door.  Its not that its possible to forget these things but it makes me feel better, as does the ticking and highlighting of the lists.  Sounds organised, yes?  No, because I spend at least half an hour before I fall asleep thinking about whether or not I've put the right vest out for Smaller Boy, or whether the coat I've put out for Small Boy will be suitable for a morning with the childminder and an afternoon at nursery. Then I start thinking about other things; when is the next Mulberry sale?  Should I start jogging?  Maybe I should spend time with Small Boy doing his letters during breakfast instead of letting him watch Bing. Its exhausting.  By the time I fall asleep I've managed to become unrelaxed.  I wake up.  I wake up again. I add to the to-do list.  And then I can hear my alarm...If I'd just stuck to the routine I'm used to then none of these things would occur to me.  Yes, the morning would be rushed but let's face it, it is anyway!  At least I'd be moderately exhausted instead of feeling like I've had a night on the vino.  And I would have saved about 2 hours by not painstakingly packing the bags for all eventualities.

So this week I've given myself the chance to do what comes naturally; I must admit, I was a bit scared about the consequences (admittedly, a lot less scared than my husband) but this week there were a lot of appointments and interruptions so I thought, why not?  Ok, so first change: the to-do lists are in the bin.  Second change:  Sunday night.  Usually its filled with 3 loads of ironing, an hour hanging up and organising outfits for the week, pairing socks and packing bags.  Not tonight.  I ironed what we'd need for the next day and put them away into the wardrobes, that would give the opportunity to change our minds on what we were wearing.  Odd socks went into their drawers without their buddies and the rest of the washing hung out in the tub.  I sat and watched a film in bed and then fell asleep.  It was the most relaxed night I've had in ages.

Monday morning: a bit rushed but absolutely no worse than any other Monday morning.  Small Boy found his own shoes and coat, Smaller Boy just wore whatever outfit was pulled out of the wardrobe and, after a bit of rushing about to pack snacks for both boys, we were ready to hit the road.  I think what helped was that I had to focus on what was necessary for the day, when its already done I tend to find things to do or give in to activity request by Small Boy which inevitably hold us up.  The more time I have, the more I need.  Everyone dressed, childminder's on time, work on time, all good.

I wont bore you with the specifics but my Winging It strategies this week have been:

• One option for breakfast for Small Boy and Smaller Boy - no options, no questions, just presented them with it.  They both ate.
• All clothes that are not suitable, either in size or season, were taken out of the wardrobe.  The rest of the clothes are fine and can be taken out when they're needed instead of endless options being put out the night before.
• Most clothes match.  A stripey vest does not require stripey socks in a pastel shade.
• Cup of tea before anything else in the morning.  Planning it for 0.2 minutes before I have to leave the house means I don't get one.  Then I'm grumpy.
• Buy lunch on the way to work: no three hour agonising whether its tasty, low calorie, different to the day before.  Nope: you have ten minutes to get to work, buy that or go hungry.
• Dump bags in the hallway on a night; only take out bottles and food/drinks.  Then replenish in the morning rather than re-packing later.
• Wash hair on a morning.  The length of time it takes me to sort out bed hair is the same length of time it takes to wash and blow dry it, and it looks better.
• Style it out - don't admit to forgetting anything.  Nod and smile.
• Use the same handbag each day; use a big bag and just keep everything in there.  Every time I change handbags I lose something. Not too bad when its a pen but slightly more annoying when its keys.  Or the Storm Trooper; you never know when you'll need a Storm Trooper.
• Sack the gym, go for a run.  Its free and at home.
• Accept at least 50% of the invitations given for the week, not all social engagements require a 3 day planning window.  Find a way.  The more spontaneity the better.  Go. 
• Gel nails.  Why have I only just allowed myself to buy into this?  I know they'll last so I don't need to plan an appointment for a day before an event and then 'getting ready doesn't extend to 24 hours +.
• Make up bag in the car - no, not for traffic light stops, for the car park at work.  No interruptions, natural light. 
• Box of toys in the car: there's always in car entertainment we don't have to think about.
• TV whenever.  The boys have plenty of time doing activities that the TV at home is not the end of the world.  
• Drink water - constantly.  Being hydrated = concentration = less stressed.
• Stop making lists!  Oh, the irony... 

Its a New Chapter...

Today is the first day of the rest of my life...

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

I'm all out of inspiration today, but you get the picture!  Today is the final day of my career (well, for the foreseeable) and after a wobbly few weeks I've arrived at the other side feeling far more confident and positive than I have in a long time.  I've always been a bit of an avoider if I'm honest; its not that I can't be bothered to make huge changes or confront issues that could technically be left alone, but I definitely have the fear and this makes me less likely to adopt the 'go-get-'em' attitude that a lot of people have.  I'm not sure how relevant it is but the career I've left behind is teaching; teachers seem to be in a precarious position of late and I am another casualty of the profession it would seem.

Over the last year I've done a lot of soul searching; a lot of considering and weighing up.  I've come to realise that my career no longer suits my personality or the needs of my family.  Leaving has actually been easy; that was yesterday.  The difficulty was in the run up to making everything official.  And here it is: Official.

Now, I haven't left the world of work completely; much the opposite. I can't reveal too much here but I am now self employed in a company of which I have no practical experience.  I have an interest, I have transferable skills, I have (some!) common sense.  And apparently that forms the basis of my new career.

I'm excited!  And I know that this decision will vastly improve the life of my boys who were the motivation behind all of this...

Here's to a new beginning

Where did my confidence go?

Its one of those nights where I can't sleep for the buzzing of my 'to-do' list pinging round my head; ironically, I don't think I've felt this tired in months.  Smallest Boy sleeps through and has done since he was around 5 months (no smugness intended - this was nothing whatsoever to do with my parenting skills) and Small Boy, although wearing, has been calm and collected all night until his 7pm bedtime.  At which point he took no time at all to choose a story and then to drag Dad upstairs to read it, leaving me with my hot (yes - you read that correctly) cup of tea and my iPad.

So, what is going on?

Well, I've realised over the past few weeks that the things I used to be good average at have sort of disappeared.  Don't get me wrong, I've never claimed to be the world's best socialiser, or the most committed and diligent of employees (although I have certainly tried) but lately, if I was to be given a score out of 10 for either of these things I think I'd achieve around a 2 when previously I'd like to think I was around an 8.

When I became a mum to Small Boy I feared that my life would change and I was determined not to change too much. I wanted to be Mum and I wanted to be me; not too much of a challenge?  I was eager to get back to work when I realised it wasn't all coffee mornings and manicure appointments and I thought that would be enough to keep me ticking over as 'myself'.  But then I realised that Small Boy needed me, and in truth I needed him; more than that, I didn't crave my pre-child life back at all and I started to embrace the changes.  I enjoyed staying in on a weekend so that I was raring to go to whatever fun activity I'd found for Small Boy on a Saturday and Sunday morning; I wanted to stay in on an afternoon whilst Small Boy slept and I read until he woke up.  I thoroughly enjoyed being quiet and in a bubble and I felt sad at the prospect of returning to work.  I did though, and it wasn't half as difficult as I'd built it up to be.

Fast forward a few years to the arrival of Smallest Boy and life is pretty much the same.  But as I realise that he is my last child I've also realised that my life has changed beyond all recogntion and for some reason I've been thinking what happens next?  I haven't made much effort to lose the four spare tyres from around my middle my baby weight despite it being a whole year.  My roots are starting to grow very dark, thankfully I'm not grey yet, but I can't say my hair looks anywhere near natural which is the real problem.  I wear whatever I can find for the day, I'm past the days of being covered in baby sick but I haven't started to make an effort with my clothes like I used to.  In fact, I still wear maternity clothes most days because none of my other clothes fit me. I avoid the opportunities to dress up because trying to find something flattering and inexpensive is nigh on impossible.

Without making this sound like a self indulgent pity party, I'm not exactly happy with the way I've definitely let myself go.  And I'm too busy with remembering how to do everything I need to during the day to address it.  Probably the hardest part of all of this has come to light over the last few weeks since I returned to work and clawed my way back into the real world.  But I just don't fit anymore.  I made the decision to leave when I realised that I couldn't sacrifice our home life and the time I needed with the Small Boys, but that certainly wasn't a reflection of my place of work.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  My career used to be my baby and I'd certainly not let it go for any trivial reason, but I have too much respect for my profession to continue and make a hash up of it: I could't do that, not after the blood, sweat and tears I've put into it over the last 12 years.  But, its sadly no longer a profession that is what we might deem family friendly. This whole experience has made me feel like I'm the round very round peg being forced into the square hole.

I'm excited about my professional future; I've got a few projects coming up that I've been desperate to try for a few years and I've finally found myself in a position to try them.  But how do I work on myself?  Are mums destined to remain stuck in the limbo between maternity leave and normal life?  Do we ever find our way back?  I'd love your advice if you've found your way, I'm worried that without that crucial piece of the jigsaw I'm always going to feel like I'm trying to get something back.

As a firm believer of never looking back that idea doesn't sit well with me, but how do you move forward when some aspects of the past were exactly what you need?

My 5 Favourite Things

I love this blog challenge, it's very difficult to narrow my favourite things to just 5 and the more I think about it the harder it is! So, my choices are: 

1 Little chubby hands

 

 

I took this handprint of my 7 month old as a present, at the time I thought it was a cute idea but as my 7 month old grew and grew it made me realise just how little he once was. Nothing is better than my toddler putting his chubby little hand into mine, even if it is to lead me to the biscuit tin or the sweet aisle in the supermarket. It's one of the things I'll miss when he's older and no longer needs me to hold his hand. I try to give him the guidance he needs so that he won't need to hold my hand forever but that is such a struggle for me: I want him to hold my hand forever. The idea of him growing into a teenager and then an adult is so difficult to picture, but this picture of his handprints that I have displayed on our shelf reminds me every day that his funny toddler ways will soon become memories. They make me think twice before wishing a difficult day away. 

2 Our dog

 

Usually found snoozing on the sofa, our dog is somewhat of a hero although she's so silly no one would ever think that. We got her in 2010 as a sort of therapy dog after poor health; she was exactly what we needed. She's definitely a handful but more often than not she's happy lazing on the sofa (well they do say that dogs are much like their owners!).  Being a dog seems to confuse her, I'm sure she thinks she's a human and is very confused as to why she sleeps downstairs and is given her food in a bowl on the floor. She is always happy, she's becoming a great friend to our boys. I'm definitely envious of her ability to relax and do nothing! 

3. My Mulberry Bayswater

 

Well actually, any Mulberry! I had a definite Mulberry addiction pre-children. I enjoyed nothing better than a trip to a Mulberry shop, just to window shop was enough. I love the classic designs and the fact that they smell so good. I've had my Bayswater for 6 years and despite being a workhorse she is beautiful. The leather is ageing so well. My love of Mulberry is certainly one of the things that has stayed with me post-children, I found that after my first son was born I lost a bit of what I used to be like, I suppose my priorities changed a lot which happens to all first time mums. Mulberry reminds me that there is still a less mumsy person in there somewhere, even if she hides away most of the time. It gives me those precious few moments of self indulgence And plus, it's big enough to use as a baby bag which is a massive thumbs up in my book! 

4 My First Love

 

This needs no explanation. 

5 Beautiful Flowers

 

There's nothing like a lovely bunch of flowers to brighten up a room, they're particularly lovely in the summer time and these ones smell delicious. Another reason why I like these particular flowers in the picture are because they were a recent birthday present from my brother - he remembered my birthday without any prompting this year which I really appreciated. 

So there are my 5 favourites of today, I could have added so many more and writing this today made my day so much better. It's funny how just thinking about the little things can totally shape the type of day we have. I'm going to start tomorrow in the same way. 

(Un)helpful advice?

Embrace the chaos: this has to be the single, most helpful piece of advice I was ever given as a first time mum. Having a seemingly relaxed and carefree life before children was something that I definitely took for granted, as were a lot of things (spa treatments, relaxing baths, uninterrupted sleep, nice nails and hair, the smell of perfume rather than vomit etc, etc, etc). Once I announced I was pregnant, along came all of the usual helpful advice from those more experienced, and it made me start to panic about how on earth I was going to cope. I used to thrive on the routine of knowing what I was going to do and when. Apparently babies do too but they try their level best to turn that routine on its head, Small Boy and Smaller Boy have proven this one on many occasions. I used to become stressed out when thing went off track, but I found that by accepting that things were not always going to run as what I perceived as smoothly, made for a more successful day. But what about all of the other helpful advice that was thrust our way? The advice about feeding, sleeping, walking, traveling, playing, educating, bathing etc? Well I dealt with some of them like this:

Firstly, I'm a rubbish cook. Absolutely terrible. Experience has taught me that not only do my cooking skills not allow me to actually produce anything edible but that, actually, I don't want to. As simple as that. I despise cooking and the time it takes. So how on earth was I going to manage to produce wholesome, home cooked food for my PFB in between all of the routine following, baby groups, mum meet ups and educational lessons that would take place approximately every 15 minutes throughout the day? (Please excuse the obsession with educational experiences, the teacher in me can't seem to let that go). Well obviously it wasn't. So when it came to it I stuck with the simple things: veg, fruit, meat.  Nothing hard about that. Whether it's baby led weaning, puréed or a mixture of both it really doesn't matter. Small Boy ate what he liked,  threw what he didn't and made lovely patterns with the bits he wasn't sure about. Smaller Boy is the same (except probably eats one too many quavers).

Secondly, the helpful advice about milestones. My ears seemed tuned into the constant low level conversations about who was doing what at what point in their first year:  who was walking first, who could sign, which was better: crawling then walking or missing out the crawling altogether? Clearly, my 6 month old was behind because he could not yet recognise the 26 letters of the alphabet or sign the words to his favourite song when it came on the radio, which of course reflected badly on me as a parent. Of course now I realise it was just not important, not at all. As a parent you trust your judgement: approach it with logic as you would everything else in life. Babies do things at their own pace, panicking about it and trying to force things to happen doesn't serve to actually make them happen. All it does is take away that enjoyment, and I reckon most first time mums look back on the first year and wish they had taken less notice of others and more notice of themselves. I know I do, I definitely take this approach with Smaller Boy but even then it's a struggle to not slip back into old habits of worrying.

The rest of it? Well, I filed each piece of patronising, wrong and just plain stupid, ahem helpful advice in the B1N file for later. Someone else's way of doing things may be useful to you if you're struggling, of course our friends and family mean well. But that doesn't necessarily mean their way is right for you. It doesn't always hurt to change things a bit, but sometimes it's just not you, it's just the way things are. If things are working for you then you leave them alone, common sense and intuition are the most powerful tools we have as parents. If something doesn't feel right then don't do it, whether that's taking away the dummy or not using one at all, or co-sleeping or not co-sleeping. No one is right, or wrong 100% of the time. That reminds me, I need to take out the rubbish.


Retrospect is a great thing.

We Never Stop

So this week has been half term and, as I mentioned in my last post, I try to cram in as much as I can when I'm off. I think this stems from the bucket load of guilt I carry around with me every day I'm at work; it ranges from feeling like a rubbish mum because I should have prepared a filling and balanced breakfast (as opposed to the piece of cold toast Small Boy chose), to missing out on an ideal outdoor day because I'm working. I'm thinking this is mainly because nice outdoor days don't come around very often! But I do feel like I'm constantly on the 'I'll-make-it-up-to-them' carousel. 

You know what I mean; I guess most parents do. It's not as if every single day can be full of exciting excursions to various fun, yet educational, visits to new family-friendly places because, for a start, they usually cost a fortune. And the main reason being that normal life seems to get in the way, I've managed to convince myself that this is a huge flaw in my parenting. As a result of this, every school holiday results in exhaustion from start to finish as I fulfil my quest to become guilt free. Except it isn't fulfilled, I always end up feeling worse and up until today I've not been able to put my finger on quite why this is.

It's so simple: I'm feeling guilty because we never stop and look at the here and now. I suppose I've never really considered that the mundane day to day things we do are actually experiences too. So today we changed our plans; we actually cancelled our plans for the day when Small Boy refused to get off the sofa (so although it sounds like I had a moment of enlightenment this wasn't actually the case) and sat down. 

It's funny, when we're forced into doing something our automatic reaction is to fight against it but when it's a 3 year old there really isn't an awful lot that can be done. Well, there is forcing them to get changed out of their Storm Trooper costume and into regular clothes and then pinning them into their car seat, but that's not a great start to the day for anyone. Today was supposed to be a 'fun' day (we know that standing outside waiting in queues and having to use a portaloo with a child is not actually fun) and a stage show involving Mr Bloom; instead we traded it in for playing with trains, megablocks, drums and watching Shrek. Suprisingly, we traded it in for actually having fun instead of telling ourselves that we were having fun. 

So I've decided that I'm going to make notice of the times I feel guilty during the day and think about what the actual issue is. So far today:

Smallest Boy didn't have his teeth brushed until 10am.

Smallest Boy had to sit in his play pen whilst Small Boy threw the ball for the furbaby (Smallest Boy sees it as a challenge to race against the furbaby for the ball, it never ends well). 

Small Boy watched tv for a lot longer than I usually allow.

Smallest Boy got excited when Waybaloo came on CBeebies, he shouldn't have a preference over tv shows at 11 months (in my mind).

Small Boy had sausages for the second day in a row.

Both boys didn't have much fresh air today

Bedtime was an hour later than usual due to our routine being out of kilter.

And do you know what? It's absolutely fine! No one is any worse off for it. I have learned that my cooking skills still require improvement and that I really shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen; that the level of mess whether out of the house or in the house does not change; and that Smallest Boy has a passion for climbing (on everything, my fitness levels should have improved today!). So it's not really about doing it's about appreciating. Of course I knew this before, I just don't think I ever considered it on a day to day basis. I applied it more to things like firsts, new things, unusual things and one-offs. 

And now I'm going to appreciate a giant bag of Wispa bites and a hot cup of tea.  All to myself. 

I'll tackle the carnage that is my living room tomorrow.