It's a maternity ward, not the red carpet

A woman had a baby this week, her third. It made the news because he is fifth in line to the throne of England and as with her first two she was outside the hospital showing her child to the world's press within hours of giving birth. In response (or possibly in support) women have been sharing photos of themselves immediately after they had a baby. The photos range from a woman applying make up and doing her hair to the scraped back pony tail and sweat top look.

My own first photo was taken by our midwife in the operating theatre after our son was taken out via the sunroof. It had all been so dramatic that I'm not sure I was even thinking about photos so I'm grateful that she had the foresight to do it for us. I was all trussed up in a gown and wearing a green cap when they brought him over to me. He was held close to my face so I could look at him, I closed my eyes to breathe him in and gave a prayer of thanks that he was safe. He was taken away while I was sewn up and there are photos of my puffy red-faced little boy and a wonderful photo of Daddy holding and looking at him with pure love and gratitude.

I don't recall looking in a mirror at all for the first few days - I had no reason to. I was in hospital and had limited range of movement due to the surgery. That didn't matter so much as I just wanted to stay in bed with him in my arms. At night I would lie with him on my chest just looking at his tiny little body and holding him close. The midwives would tell me to put him in the cot to get some sleep, but I didn't want to be without him for even a moment. We had come so close to not being there and he was far too precious to me to put him down.

He was tiny when he was born - I had expected him to be bigger due to my enormous size at the end - which we now realise was due to the pre-eclampsia. When he came out so small I had to admit my size was probably down to the chips and chocolate I'd indulged in after years of dieting rather than baby and placenta.

As Brown Bear was the first grandchild and first nephew in our family the list of visitors who were desperate to see him was long. He was delivered by emergency caesarean so we weren't allowed to see anyone the first day. Then we invited immediate family and my two closest friends to come and see us. I think I asked Hubbie to help me shower and wash my hair before they arrived and wheeled the cot into the bathroom with me as I didn't want to leave the baby alone.

When they did arrive I was still in nightwear and stayed in bed pretty much the entire time they were there. My Dad was the first in and couldn't wait to hold the baby. He didn't want to leave. My friend S-J was so terrified of holding him - he really was so very tiny he looked like a doll - so I put a cushion on her lap to prop him on. I don't recall anyone commenting on my hair or lack of make up. If they did after they left I have no idea.

The very idea of showing off my baby to the world and being judged for how I looked would have been more than I could have coped with. In those first few hours I just wanted to be with my baby.

And to sleep.

Let's hear it for my boys.

Some days being a parent is just hilarious. Not every day I grant you. Some days are like climbing uphill in a full sumo suit while carrying freezer bags before the food inside them defrosts and having to carry a baby in a car seat at the same time. True Story - almost.

They do things that just take me by surprise. Blue Bear ran into the kitchen to check I was ok when he heard a mug smash yesterday. He also posted a letter in the letterbox by himself without being lifted up - when did he grow so tall ? Brown Bear helps style his brother's hair in the mornings now as he wants to make him look as cool as he does. He also has an amazing skill at knowing if it's going to be a cold day and insists he doesn't need a jacket on days that turn out to be not only sunny, but hot too. I've no idea where this psychic meterological skill comes from.

Then there are the amazing and frankly impressive things that they do. Recently I've been lucky enough to witness some nuggets of pure gold from my children:

Yesterday morning I was running the vacuum round before we left for school (don't look at me like that - the house was a total sty and it needed doing). Brown Bear went over to the beanbag where Neo was lying and covered his ears and talked to him in soothing tones to stop him getting upset with the noise. What a sweetie.

Blue bear was in relaxed mode this morning - he woke up late, took ages to get dressed and when I insisted that he put on his shoes for pre-school he took his time. When he eventually came to the kitchen to show me I had to stop myself from laughing. He had put on two entirely different shoes. One white trainer and a black school shoe. When I said, "please put on two matching shoes," he asked, "why ?" I'll be honest I'm not sure I could provide an acceptable answer. I later found out that apparently this is a trend with the cool kids at the moment - how does he know though ?

Brown Bear was sitting eating breakfast and I offered him a pastry - I was feeling generous, we don't do that every day. As I proffered croissants or pain au chocolat he asked for the latter, in a french accent. I looked at Hubbie and said, "I know I should feel bad about that, but I just don't." Pretentious, moi ?

This afternoon Blue Bear sat down next to me on the sofa and I put my arm round him. He was fiddling with a toy and he put it inside his T shirt. He showed me. "Mummy, it's in my tummy." "Your toy ?" "No, my baby." "Oh, it's inside your tummy ?" "Yes. A baby in my tummy." I smiled and he took it out of his t- shirt, held it gently to his face and then gave it a tender kiss. "My baby." Love that boy.

Brown Bear has his heart set on a Blue Peter badge so Hubbie looked up what he needs to do to get one. This morning I read his poem and letter to the programme to earn a badge. I told him what a great job he had done on it and that I was really proud of his work. Yeah, it's a brag - I'm not even going to lie.

It's just as well they are cute and lovable really otherwise Bue Bear throwing a wobbler and Brown Bear losing his brand new Rubik's cube might have been the headlines of today. Instead I can smile and laugh when I think about my boys. My wonderful, surprising, funny boys.

Adoption Week: So, was it worth it ?

It's my final post about adoption this week and I've decided that having written about the trials and tribulations, the challenges and the worries today would be about the rewards. I have talked to many people who've said, "we thought about adoption..." and it kind of drifts off. I'm not judging how anyone had their family. How you had your kids is your business. It's not a competition and I'm not about to win any awards for parenting. I'm doing my best, just like you. We happen to have come to adoption as a result of intention and circumstances.

So, once we've got past all the other stuff the question is always something along the lines of, 'was it worth it ?' I think this is about the perceived effort, the assessment, the waiting, the settling in, the not knowing. It's a lot to answer.

The biggest part of adoption is being an advocate for my child, in a legal sense, but also on a day to day basis I'm the one standing up for him. As well as being his parent I'm his protector - that is what adoption gives a child. It's not about a home or toys, or nice clothes. It's having someone who will talk to the parent of another child when they aren't being nice. Knowing that you are not on your own if you're feeling sad, scared, excited. Someone who will care that you don't like the dark. Who will pop in after you've gone to sleep and turn down the dimmer, just enough to help you sleep, but not so much you are scared if you wake up in the night.

For my son it's knowing that someone cares about him and wants the best for him. I'll be at the end of the phone when he's an adult and he rings to ask how to set his heating system or where to get a new tyre - just like my Mum has been for me. I'll tell him how to cook his favourite meal, "are you cooking for someone special ?" I'll enquire, "no, nobody, nothing, never mind," he'll say. He knows he can ring Dad and ask for a loan (yeah good luck with that son) or tell my sister when he's done something he is too worried to tell us about.

Adoption gives a child a family, security, someone to shout at and to be angry with. He has a safe space to have all the feelings with people whose love is all consuming and who won't walk away when it's too difficult or painful. When he has his heart broken he knows we are here to dispense hugs, cups of tea and his favourite biscuits. When the hurt is so much that it feels unbearable I will hold him (emotionally and physically) for as long as it takes.

Now that he is in this family my son has grandparents who spoil him and have pictures of him everywhere because they love him. He has a cousin and aunties and uncles who adore him. He also has a cat. Neo quite likes him too.

My boy and my cat.

We are here to celebrate his successes, to champion his ambitions, to laugh at his jokes (even the really lame ones) and to tease him when he's being daft. To notice when he is doing something new and bragging about it. Only yesterday I asked a rhetorical question and he said, clear as a bell, "I don't know." You could have thrown tennis balls into my mouth it was so wide in shock. He spoke in a full sentence.

We're the ones with mobile phone memories creaking with photos of him from every single day since he's been with us. The ones who notice the milestones, we see and record and remember. When he does something amazing I'm the one beaming, "that's my son there."

So, was it worth it ?

A million times yes. I can't believe you even have to ask.

It's Adoption Week so I've been writing about adoption every day.

To find out more about adoption week take a look here: http://www.first4adoption.org.uk/nationaladoptionweek/

Babysteps scratch off calendar - a review

I took they boys to meet their new baby cousin last week and they were fascinated by him. He is - and I accept I may be biased here - absolutely gorgeous. I was talking to my sister about how she is managing and I remembered random facts that had helped me when I was expecting Big Boy. I asked everyone questions all the time about everything. I read lots of books and checked the internet all the time. Anything I wasn't sure about I would check then ask someone who had children already to confirm what I'd found out was correct.

It's difficult enough when you're having your first baby with myriad things you don't know you don't know. I would have loved something that gave me bite sized chunks of information before he'd arrived. That way I wouldn't have been in permanent panic mode about any little thing that someone mentioned in passing.

Splash Brands have created the Babysteps calendar to help explain the stages of pregnancy in daily facts that you scratch off as pregnancy processes. I would have given this to my sis if I'd known about it in time. Now I do know it's going to be a gift for the next friend who tells me they are pregnant. It's presented beautifully in a hexagonal box and has some really nice (gender neutral) images on it. Starting from 5 weeks and with scratch off panels starting at 9 weeks the calendar contains 236 facts, tips and trivia about the different stages of pregnancy. It's pretty large so you won't forget it's there !

You can find out more about Splash Brands here

and you can buy it on Amazon: Amazon

Disclosure: We were sent a Babysteps scratch-off calendar to review 

A long walk, a newborn and part lego child: my week in photos.

Survival kit for walkers

At the start of the week I was recovering from the Shine Walk for Cancer Research UK. It was great to take part and I'm delighted that me and my walking pal Carole did it in such a fantastic time of just over 4 hours. I did feel it for a few days afterwards though !

Oi, Legohead !!

This week Big Boy turned 5 years old and he had so many presents it took ages to open them all. He is so very lucky to have so many people who love him so much. I bet you'll never guess what his favourite toys are ?

Teeny tiny baby 

By far my best moment this week was having baby cuddles with my first nephew. He's so adorable and I could quite easily have spent all day fussing him, but I gave him back to my sister - albeit reluctantly.

A rose between, well many thorns 

I'm often embarrassed by our front garden as all the neighbours have such neat and tidy lawns and borders and ours is such a jungle in comparison. Then I noticed this beautiful rose and it made me forget all the straggly plants around it and appreciate the beauty in one single bloom instead. 

Nose to nose - fur to fur

Tonight I'm typing this while sitting up in bed and Neo is lying at my feet with his new friend. I'd say that's a pretty good way to end the week.

To my boy, now you are a big brother

I know that all the changes in our family recently have been very trying for you, but I have to ask you to be the big boy and help Mummy and Daddy by letting us take care of you and your brother the best way we can.

You see there are some things that are very difficult for your brother. He does cry, he can't help it. He can't speak yet and when he wants to tell us something he gets quite cross that we don't understand him. The more we talk to him and help him the better he will be able to talk to us. You speak really well so he will learn from listening to you, if you are patient enough to talk to him. He's already responding to us when we talk and there are signs that his language is coming along. You are helping him learn too.

I know that it's very hard for you to understand why he needs to be with me all the time. Yes he does cry when you sit with me or when he thinks I've gone away. You were with me for a long time before you were born. I spoke to you all the time and sang you songs and we knew each other long before we met. I held you minutes after you were born and have been with you every day of your life so far. Your brother hasn't had that kind of certainty in his life so he needs to build trust and know that I am here for him. It will take him time to believe that we are here for him whatever happens and for now that means he wants to be with me all the time. I am still here for you. I am always here for you. It's just that sometimes you may have to accept that I am also here for him.

It's really hard for you to make sense of things and I'll be honest I feel the same. I don't know why he shouts or gets upset or what happened to him before he came to live with us. I only know that we love him and I hope that he will feel secure and loved with us. Watching you play with your brother and sharing with him makes me and your Daddy so happy. It shows us what a fabulous big brother you can be and I just know that the two of you will be the best of friends as time goes on.

For now though I will do what I can to stop him from taking your toys and from touching your 'big boy' things. In return I ask that you share the toys that you had as a baby with him and help him to feel welcome in this family.

Now to the biggest thing I need from you. This one will be the most difficult, but I know you can do it. I'd like to you share me and Daddy with your brother. Until he is older he won't appreciate how much you wanted him in your life. He may never know how hard it is right now that he is here and it isn't all fun and games and laughter. There is laughter though - and more each day. As we get better at this and as you let him into your life a bit at a time.

I am fiercely proud of you for taking all this in your stride. Of how you introduce everyone to your baby brother. Of how you help take his shoes off when we come indoors. Of how you put your arm across him to stop him from falling or running into anything (even though he shouts when you do). Of how you take him a book to look at when he is awake early in the morning. Of how you kiss him goodnight and good morning.

He is a very lucky boy to have you as a big brother. I am very lucky to have you as a son. I love you both.

Sharing is caring

My funny family 

This morning I had one of those experiences of shared parenting that reminded me how unequal it really can be at times. I came back from my early swim and we had a small window of time for me to get ready then take the boy to pre-school while Hubbie did some attic stuff at home. I got home and Hubbie assured me that the boy was ready to go. I asked if he would make sure that the boy had shoes and a coat on while I did a few things.

So, in the following 20 minutes I:

• Put the kettle on for a cup of green tea and cracked eggs into a bowl for scrambled egg
• While the kettle boiled I put out the recycling into three separate bins
• Hung up my wet swimming kit 
• Went upstairs to sort out some washing - realised the trousers I was wearing needed a wash 
• Tried on three different pairs of jeans before deciding on the ones to wear
• Came back downstairs, put on the washing machine, stirred scrambled egg 
• Put washing into machine, followed by washing liquid, conditioner and water softener tablet
• Ate the egg and poured tea into hot mug to take with me as I didn't have time to drink it 

What did the boys get done in this time ?:

• I asked if the boy had socks on - he did not

I mention this because sometimes however much you want to share parenting it's unequal. Up until now the arrangements for parental leave to care for children has been unequal. When our boy was born I was entitled to a year off work, but Hubbie was only entitled to two weeks. With annual leave he was able to take long weekends to be with us for the first few months, but that was exceptional compared with most of our friends. The leave allowances for families have been pretty unevenly weighed in favour of one partner, usually the mother. I don't even know how this works for same sex couples with families, but I guess one partner would take the full leave allowance and the other would get the same two weeks as my Hubbie had. What it meant was that Hubbie was not there when he wanted to be as his work did not allow for him to spend as much time with our new son as he would have liked.

All that is about to change as parents will now have greater flexibility in how they share the care of their child in the first year after birth. New regulations regarding Shared Parental Leave (SPL) will come into force from April 2015, when parents will have greater choice over how they share time off work to care for their child. Shared Parental Leave allows working couples to share up to 50 weeks of leave and 37 weeks of pay in a way that suits their work and family needs. This would have meant that me and Hubbie could have shared the leave between us instead of it being only one of us who was allowed to take it. The new regulations mean that parents can take time off together or they can tag team, stopping and starting leave and returning to work in between if they wish. It also applies to adoption leave which is great news. 

Having the option to spend time with your children should not be only given to one parent. Not everyone has the Brad and Angelina option of taking their kids along with them wherever in the world they are working. It also helps that they have the resources to hire a gaggle of nannies and private tutors too. Most of us have to rely on family or childminders and nurseries to support our parenting. We genuinely co-parent and have from the very beginning. We don't have any family nearby and had to do all the work ourselves. These changes will hopefully enable parents to share the time and enjoy that first year when so many exciting things happen in our children's lives.

Marking a milestone with my boy 

The road less travelled: for those of us who really had to work at becoming a Mum.

Mothers Day is one of the biggest days of the year for florists and restaurants do pretty well out of it too. We've always made a big deal about it for my Mother and Hubbie's Mum too. Then after we had our son it took a while for me to realise that it was my day now too. I recall how hard it was before then when we were trying for so long and being reminded of what we didn't have was just so painful. A card from the cat is lovely, but the feeling that you will always be congratulating everyone else on their pregnancy and never celebrating your own can become very wearing.

When people know you're trying to conceive it is amazing what they say to be helpful. I was told to try hypnotherapy, acupuncture, reflexology and my personal favourite Shamanic healing. We did actually try yoga, hypnotherapy and reflexology and when I did finally fall pregnant with our son I called him the baby that yoga built.

In trying again I did the same things I had before. Stopped eating rubbish food, cut back on alcohol increased my fitness and made time to look after myself better. The hardest part was trying not to be upset at everyone else becoming pregnant easily while we struggled month after month. A friend suggested trying an ovulation monitoring kit and I was already using an app to track ovulation. When it still didn't happen I figured we were probably just unlucky. Then the lovely folks at Ovusense asked if we'd try their new fertility monitor. It's completely different from the kit I'd used before and is new to the UK. Here is what OvuSense say about the system.

"OvuSense is a new, highly accurate fertility monitor.  OvuSense consists of a personal sensor and a data reader. The sensor is placed in the vagina (similar to a tampon) overnight – the only place where accurate readings of core body temperature can be made.  OvuSense uses patented technology to measure core body temperature every 5 minutes, inside the vagina, while you sleep, providing you a complete picture of your personal cycle. OvuSense predicts ovulation in real time in each cycle, and detects the exact day of ovulation with 99% accuracy.  In just two weeks, OvuSense can tell you when you are going to ovulate, and then calculate the exact day for you with 99% accuracy. Only OvuSense can calculate this much personal information about your cycle with this much accuracy."

It does take some getting used to and the first couple of months the system is getting baseline readings on which to base future predictions. You do get a reading daily and it does say when your fertile window is coming up which is similar to the existing systems I've used before. Where this differs is that you will then get a much more accurate reading telling you when you actually did ovulate and all the information is recorded so that you can compare one month with another.

I found out that I ovulate later than I thought I did and that is really helpful to know. It is also really good for women who have PCOS or unpredictable cycles so they have no way of working out when they are ovulating. If you have an accurate window for ovulation you have a better chance of succeeding in becoming pregnant. The great thing about Ovusense is there is an online support community on Facebook that is a great place to ask questions and to find out more.

The hardest part of trying to conceive for me was the feeling of being alone and not being able to talk to anyone about it. When those around you can just decide to have another baby and it happens for them and you're trying month after month without success it's pretty disheartening. Ovusense answer questions and offer online support as well as sharing success stories from women who have used the system. For a woman who has no idea why she's not conceiving it's a good way to feel a bit more in control of at least part of the process.

I would definitely recommend using the Ovusense fertility monitor as it's really been an eye opener for me. It is not the cheapest fertility monitoring kit, but it's a lot more scientific than anything I've tried before and the data it collects is far more accurate. The online support is a great resource and for anyone trying to conceive it makes what can be a lonely and long road feel less so.

Disclosure: We were sent the Ovusense fertility monitor to review and to give honest opinions.
You can find out more about the product here: www.ovusense.com

You will always be my special one

You will always be my special one. The one that I carried for 9 months - and then some - you were comfy and I was in no rush either. The one that I talked to, sang, "I love you baby" to. The one that I talked to when I couldn't sleep because you were such an active, bouncy baby.

Christmas Baby

When you ask me what it was like to meet for the first time I will tell you that we already knew each other. That when I felt you in distress I kept reassuring you that it was going to be ok and I was there. I talked to you and to myself. I prayed for you and for me. I heard you before I saw you. Hubbie looked over with moist eyes and the look of a tired, overwhelmed and immensely proud Daddy holding his precious first born for the first time. He brought you over to me and I held you close and kissed your face. I closed my eyes and said a thank you prayer for your safe delivery. 

If only I could remember how many teeth you had at one year old. I'm sorry now that I didn't document every moment of every day of your life so far. I have so many photos and some videos and many, many memories, but I wish I had been able to have a permanent record of all of it instead of the snippets I have now.

Neo posing

I remember your first steps in this house - confident and brave. The face you made when you first tried chocolate - pure joy. How you were stunned the first time you realised that Neo could move around and wasn't a stuffed animal like all your teddy bears and toys. Ok, he chooses to be still, but that is a cat's prerogative.

Now you can write your own name. You can hold a conversation. I have to explain everything to your satisfaction. You are a boy and not a baby any more.

Serious writing

But you are my baby. You crawl over to sit in my lap and ask me to put my arms around you. You rest your head on my chest and put your fingers in your mouth and hold your much-loved, old teddy bear to your nose. Complete peace. 

No one will ever take your place as my beloved first born son. 

You will always be my special one.  

My precious boy

Wake me up before you ..... zzzzzzzzzzzz

For those too young to get the reference

Sleep. Who can honestly say they get enough of it ?

I know when I was a callow youth it was a competition to live on the least sleep. This was in the days when the PM apparently ruled on only 4 hours. This explains why she was such a callous dictator. It wasn't actually government policy it was that she'd been sleep deprived for so many years having had twin babies that she never slept a full night again and was permanently cranky. See Meryl Streep didn't pick up on that little character point did she ? Oscar back please. Thank you.

Anyway, I digress, I know shocker. I survived on very little sleep at Uni partly because I didn't want to miss anything. I'd stay until the end of a party or be with the last to leave the bar and work into the small hours then wake up early to go for a swim or to get books to the library. It explains why I regularly nodded off on a Monday morning during Trevor's 4 hour history lecture - to be fair it was about the crusades - I'm yawning thinking about it even now. Since then I can't sit in a lecture or speech without the heavy lidded spectre of narcolepsy hanging over me. Essentially I've survived on little sleep most of my life and taken a perverse pride in the achievement.

Until I had a baby that is.

Now competitive sleeplessness is a thing amongst parents. Not in the same, "Oh man I was so smashed did you see that last encore the Pixies did after midnight ? What, you left ? It was amaaaazing..." etc. way. No. It's the one topic that causes so much consternation in parenting circles as once sane adults try to outdo each other in the, "I haven't slept in .. days... weeks... months" stakes. I just can't partake in that nonsense.

Maybe I was especially good in my last life or something. I didn't have that. Our boy has always been a great little sleeper. He was two weeks over his due date as he wasn't in a rush to be born - chilled out as he was in there. Then as soon as he was born he promptly had a pooh on the midwives and went to sleep. I had to wake him up to feed him and took photos while he was awake.

This is how most people saw our boy

There are friends who never saw him awake for the first 6 months of his life. When I went to visit my lovely NCT teacher Wendy the boy nodded off in the pram on the way to the bus stop and stayed asleep all the way there and while I enjoyed two cups of tea, a homemade cupcake and a sit down. No one knew what colour his eyes were for months and they never heard him cry. Of course as soon as the wheels of his buggy touched the front steps of our house he woke up, but he had a feed and pretty much nodded off again. It was like living with a student.

During the night we co-slept so he took up the entire bed and I didn't really sleep much as we discovered early on that he slept on his front and as we're all told that is a no-no I would lie there listening to him breathe. We worked out he was being a cat and as his head was to the side he was fine. Of course poor Hubbie was back at work two weeks after the boy was born so he was the one who needed sleep. At times I'd send him to the spare room so he'd get some rest before going to work. He didn't want to leave us though.

In fact during the 2010 baseball season I'd breastfeed the baby then Hubbie would take him downstairs to watch the baseball on TV so I could sleep. I told you I must have accumulated some good karma that's been paid back in this life to get so lucky. The boy was clearly also a good luck charm as they watched the SF Giants romp to their first World Series victory in over 50 years.

With the exception of the colic months - that period of time when we took it in turns to rock the baby and soothe him while he screeched in pain - we've had it pretty good really. Which is why I'm a bit surprised at the turn it's taken in recent months where I wake up completely exhausted. Our boy goes to bed at a sensible time and sleeps right through until at least 6am which is later than Hubbie gets up to go to work. I, however, am welded to my pillow feeling like I've got a hangover. This isn't helped by a toddler running in shouting, "Mummy, I want to get dressed. Shall we brush our teeth ?" and so on.

I realise it's hardly the middle of the night or anything, and we're so fortunate to have a child who sleeps as well as he does. I'm just hoping that it's going to rub off on me too. I'd love to wake up with that level of enthusiasm first thing.

For now I'm going to take my cue from the cat and nap during the day to make up for it.

Night night.

Chilling with my cat

Things that only sound cute when a toddler says them

Kids often have their own language and in my family we still have 'baby words' for lots of things that were mispronounced when we were little. Some that are still in general usage are:

Plum - what my brother called his thumb

Venchtables - another one from my brother, he hated vegetables so much he couldn't even say the word

openty unity versity - Open University, ok now I'm giving my brother a break

Chinka - what my sister called chicken, my parents still do !

Kunkarella - the doofer you use to light the gas stove, Hubbie calls it that now too :)

From the moment my boy first babbled I couldn't wait to hear his voice and his first words. In the beginning he also had some special ways of saying things:

Gardee - for garden. He corrects my parents when they still call it that.

Piya Piya - this one puzzled us all for months and we narrowed it down to being something to do with the CBeebies show Abney and Teal, but we got no further than that.

Since my boy learned to speak I've been charmed by his cute pronunciation. Here are some of my favourites:

Powwidge - what we have for breakfast

It's woowinned - when something is spoiled

Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mummeeeee - that's me 

Daddy dooze (does) it like this - because I don't know how to do it right

Then there is the thing he says a gazillion times a day

Mummy look at me  - as if I could look at anything else

My parents speak Punjabi so he is also partly bilingual and this additional language is helping Hubbie to learn Punjabi too. Some of his 'special' words include:

Dudoo milk - or milk

Woti - roti/chapatti

Nani-mummy food - Punjabi cuisine

I love listening to my boy - he's hilarious. When he finally masters how to get to the punchline of a knock knock joke without corpsing I think he's got the making of a great stand up career :) 

My imaginary family (and other first world problems)

I have a lot more than this 

Talk to anyone who has known me for a few years and they will tell you about my compulsive shoe and handbag habit. Neil will tell you how at Uni I was invited to most concerts because I was the only one who had a credit card to pay for gig tickets. This is the only explanation I can (or will) offer for having been to see Clannad. Bee will tell you how I own more coats than it is possible to wear - I know this because when we were watching Buffy once I mentioned that she had a different coat on every night and Bee said the words, "Pot, Kettle, Black." SJ will tell you I have accessories ranging from belts and bangles to perky hats and pashminas. I might not remember what day it is, but I will be damned if I'm going out uncoordinated.

I mention these oddities as my evil capitalist ways have been curbed in recent years, due to a combination of reduction in income and changed priorities. Yes I know being a stay at home parent is reward enough - blah, blah, blah - and I genuinely do prefer to buy things for my son and Hubbie. However I appear to have swapped one overindulgent habit for another. It became apparent to me as I found myself picking up far too many Easter gifts yesterday - I can't say any more than that as Hubbie does read this and I don't want to spoil the surprise.

Hot Cross buns a-go-go

You see there are three of us and yet I grocery shop like the apocalypse is imminent. At Christmas I bought 4 Christmas puddings - 4 !! Our boy doesn't even eat Christmas pudding and we still have two of them. I've just stopped myself from buying a bumper pack of Easter eggs from Thorntons - I've already bought enough for all of us and all our siblings. In the supermarket the other day I bought up one of every type of Easter cake for a 'special Easter afternoon tea' and we currently have four flavours of hot cross buns at home. I reiterate, there are three of us.

Don't panic though, I think I've worked it out. I'm shopping for my imaginary family. I know, I know. Bear with me here. I'm one of four siblings, my father is too and my mother is one of five. Hubbie has one brother and we have one son. I always thought I'd have a pretty big family. I wanted to have four and Hubbie was kind of ok with two. Before we had our boy we were approved to adopt two children and at one point were asked to consider three children - a toddler and younger twins - so we would have been a pretty big family overnight.

As it is we have one child and he is gorgeous and we adore him. However, we had thought we'd have more and part of me clearly hasn't let that go. In my head I was supposed to have a brood of kids and I'm clearly shopping for them. That's why I have enough cakes to sink a small fleet, a freezer filled with mini twister lollies and enough straws to build a replica Eiffel Tower.

I saw someone this afternoon who I haven't seen for a few years. She asked me if I'd had any luck in falling pregnant again and I told her I had been and it hadn't worked out. She said, "Oh well at least you've got little one." Of course I have and he's not a consolation prize. She's not the only one to remind me that our family is incomplete. It's a regular question and I dread any family event where I'll see someone who's onto their second or third or more pregnancy. It reminds me what I don't have and it prompts them or others to ask if we want to have more children.

Of course we do.

I'm not ungrateful for my small family. I love how close we all are. I just have to get real about how much chocolate, cake and biscuits we can get through.

One weekend, three Mums :)

This weekend it's Mother's Day (if you're in the UK that is - our American friends celebrate in May for some reason). It'll be my 4th one as a Mum and I've planned a lovely pampering day on Saturday which my Mum is coming to and then lunch with Mother-in-law on Sunday. We've kind of got the hang of this thing now. My first one was a little fraught as my boy was only 6 months old and while I enjoyed having a day of being pampered I did actually want to spend some of the day with my son and Hubbie.

Me and my Mum at West Pier Brighton

We are both lucky that we have our Mums and we make sure they are thoroughly spoiled and that they get to see their grandson, which is no less than they deserve. They seem to enjoy spending time with the boy and as time goes on it gets difficult to think of things they don't already have lots of. In the past I've deluged my Mum with scarves, chocolate, flowers and all manner of gifts. In recent years I've noticed that I have inherited a habit from my Mum and her Mum (my Naniji) of saying that I don't want anything. I never understood it, but as time goes on I notice that with Christmas, Valentine's Day, Mother's Day and then my birthday in the space of 6 months it does get a little crowded and I don't need that much. We're still working our way through all the chocolate we got at Christmas so I've embargoed all chocolate gifts until after Easter. This also helps with my getting fit and training for the Moonwalk so double bubble.

Hubbie with Mother-in-law

I prefer to have some pampering and relaxation so that's what I'll be doing courtesy of my boys. The nice thing about having some time to chill out is that I get to reflect on how far we've come as parents and what my boy can do now that I catch myself being amazed by.

• He can brush his own teeth. I remember when he didn't have any teeth

• He chooses his own clothes - sometimes many times a day - and he checks himself in the mirror !

• He asks questions and responds to the answers - I remember when he would burble and smile at whatever I said *sighs longingly*

• He can use scissors - properly - this still makes me wince and I keep wanting to take them out of his hands

• He can hold a conversation with a pilot, a cab driver or an airport official. I know adults who can't do this ! 

• He knows to speak up and look at his grandparents who are deaf when he talks to them - he doesn't shout

• He corrects me. Often. It drives me crazy

• He calls for me when he is hurt or upset - it makes me feel important - one day he won't 

The thing I like the best is when he gives me a big hug and a kiss and says, "Mummy, I love you more than Jiggles." Jiggles is the bear he loves most in the whole world.

Whatever you do I hope you have a wonderful Mother's Day :)

Me with my one day old boy

Mission Impossible: taking a shower when you have a toddler

Before I was a parent if I wanted to take a shower it went something like this:

Wake up. Drink Tea. Faff about. Go into bathroom. Complain about the cold floor. Turn on shower. Shower. Get out of shower. Get dressed. Go about my day.

Then our son was born and I didn't want to leave him out of my sight so I'd only shower if someone else was watching him the whole time. This meant taking a shower in the evenings when Hubbie was home or when family came to visit.

Now our boy is 3 years old and taking a shower goes something like it did this morning:

Me: I'm going to go upstairs and have a shower now. Are you ok ?
The boy: Yes Mummy. I'm watching Peppa Pig.
Me: Ok I'll just put my tea cup in the sink.
The Boy: Mummy, can I have another muffin please ?
Me: I don't have any more muffins sweetie. How about some toast ?
The Boy: I want another muffin.
Me: I'll see what I've got.
adequate replacement found
Me: Right. I'm going up to have my shower now.
The Boy: Mummy, I want to watch the Baby Gruffalo please.
Me: Ok I'll put it on then I'm going for my shower.
The Boy: Thank you Mummy.
I make it halfway up the stairs
The Boy: Mummy, I need the toilet.
Me: Ok, you know how to go to the toilet.
The Boy: Yes Mummy.
A few minutes later
The Boy: Mummy can you clean my bottom please ?
Me: Yes sweetie. 
niceties done and hands washed
The Boy: Thank you Mummy. Can I watch the penguin please ?
Mummy: You want to watch Lost and Found ?
The Boy: Yes Mummy - the Penguin is lost and the boy found him so it's Lost and Found.
Me: Yes son, that's right. I'm going to have my shower.
I make it to the top of the stairs this time
My Boy: Mummy, I want to watch the rain again.
Me: You want to watch the storm again ? Ok.
rewind film to the start of the storm - repeat this stage three times
 Me: I'm going up to have my shower now, Ok ?
The Boy: I want to change my clothes Mummy.
Me: Can I just have my wash first then we'll both get dressed.
The Boy: I want to get dressed now Mummy.
Me: ok come with me and we can get you dressed. 
he skips up the stairs and chooses and rejects two jumpers, three t shirts and any socks - finally settles on a jumper and starts to go downstairs
Me: Ok where will you be while I shower ?
The Boy: In the back room Mummy.
Me: Playing ?
The Boy: Yes Mummy
Me: If someone is at the front door don't open the door please - call me.
The Boy: Yes Mummy.
He's going downstairs now
Me: What do you do if the door bell rings ?
The Boy: Answer it.
Me: No sweetie, you call Mummy. What do you do ?
The Boy: wait for Mummy ?
Me: Yes baby, you can call me.
Carries on downstairs
A few minutes pass
A knock on the bathroom door
Me: Yes ?
The Boy: Mummy, I want to take my jumper off.
Me: can you wait until I've finished going to the toilet please ?
Door opens slowly
The Boy: Can you help me take off my jumper please Mummy ?
Me: Ok. can I just finish going to the toilet please ?
Door closes slowly
Jumper removed, he goes back downstairs
Finally, I'm in the shower
Door opens
The Boy: Mummy, I need a hat.
Me: Can you wait until I come downstairs please ?
The Boy: I'm ready Mummy.
Me: I can see that. You've got your outdoor shoes on. Where are you going ?
The Boy: To the park.
Me: Can you wait for me please ?
The Boy: Yes Mummy.
Stands waiting in the bathroom
Walks away and closes the door 
I get out of the shower and start drying off 
He walks back in shoeless and sockless and wearing a different jumper
The Boy: Mummy, I can't find Jiggles.
Me: He was on the sofa. Have a look for him there.
He goes downstairs
The Boy: (calling from downstairs) I found him Mummy !
Me: Great news.
The Boy: Mummy, I hurt my head.
Me: How did that happen sweetie ?
The Boy: On the table when I went to get Jiggles.
He's upstairs now, I'm in my bedroom 
The Boy: I want to go to the park.
Me: Look out of the window sweetie - it's raining.
The Boy: Oh.
pause
The Boy: Are you ready Mummy ?
Me: Yes sweetie.

Motherhood = fewer shoes, but more goodie bags and glitter.

We survived !

Twelve toddlers, a gazebo that kept threatening to overturn in the wind and so much noise that the cat hid upstairs on his beanbag all afternoon. He only emerged after everyone had left to ask for his dinner. The main thing, though, is that we all made it out alive. No toddlers were harmed, the food was eaten and the drinks consumed. Every child found some treasure in the 'woods' at the end of the garden and they all got a goodie bag to take home as all the contents arrived in time. Then today our boy's birthday card was shown on Cbeebies after three years of trying. I'm expecting a damehood at the very least for awesome Mumming !

Seriously though I was so proud of my boy on Sunday. As each of his friends arrived he spotted them, came over and greeted them with a cheery, "Hello, thank you for my present, come and play" and took them over to the garden area where we'd set out games and playground toys for them all. At points Hubbie spotted the boy having intense conversations with his nursery pals in a mini version of the adult scenario at the other end of the garden. As all his pals left he handed them a goody bag, thanked them for coming and as his head started to droop on Hubbie's shoulder we could see he was as worn out as we were. My little party animal.

On how far we have come.

My boy is three today. At one point we weren't sure we'd ever have a child of our own. Then we weren't sure we'd ever get to adopt a family of our own. Then this miracle happened and we found out we were having a baby. Then we had a scan and found out we were having a boy. Then we were so close to meeting him and then worried that after all of it we weren't going to. Finally at 2.20pm on the 30th of September 2010 (a full two weeks late) our boy finally arrived and my heart skipped a beat.

There is a saying that when a baby is born a mother is also born (and a father of course). When I watch my boy putting his own pyjamas on, taking off his trainers by himself and giving all the family double kisses 'continental style' I see how far he has come since he was born. I'm also now - as we emerge from the fog of early parenting - starting to see how far I have come too.

• I have learned more about biology and medicine than I ever knew. Yes, Mum and Dad I'm almost as qualified as a doctor (probably not quite as qualified as Dr Ranj though). 

• My shoe cupboard hasn't been opened in three years - well four actually as I stopped wearing heels while pregnant. I used to get called Imelda due to my love of shoes, I now wear Fit Flops or trainers pretty much all the time. 

• Hubbie and I consider going out for dinner or to a gig a big deal due to the effort required to actually leave the house. It's made us truly appreciate our time together. 

• We've also impressed our boy (and a few of the other nursery parents) with our radio show - that makes us pretty cool parents doesn't it ?

Happy Birthday to my darling boy. 

No shoes compare with the joy of being your Mum. Well, maybe...

(My cheeky little) Devil's haircut

Today was a rite of passage for our boy. He had his first haircut. I have been distraught for weeks since we decided to do it. We have grown his hair since he was born and it is gorgeous and curly and he gets compliments everywhere he goes. However, the nightly chore of combing through his luscious locks has become increasingly difficult as the knots and tangles cause him to scream and shout so much I am convinced the neighbours will report us to social services.

The reason we haven't cut his hair before is because my family are Sikh and keeping hair long is one of the articles of faith. Hubbie is not a Sikh, but we agreed that we would grow his hair and as much as possible raise him with an understanding of this part of his heritage. That made the decision even harder. I didn't cut my hair until the age of 26 (long after I left Uni) as I just believed it would be wrong and my parents would be disappointed if I did. I felt the same about cutting my boy's hair.

It is our decision as his parents though so I've been talking to him about it for weeks and he has been looking forward to it. His hair was so long he was having to constantly push it out of his eyes and at nursery I took to tying it back so that it wouldn't annoy him or get smothered in paint or playdoh. When Hubbie went to the barbers earlier in the week he took the boy with him - they were talking about the big day and the boy said, "when I get my hair cut short I won't have to wear a hairband any more." Can't say fairer than that can you ?

So today we all took the train to town to get his hair cut with my hairdresser - Anderson - who I love and trust. He was absolutely delighted when I asked him to do it as he knows how big a deal it is. We arrived and the boy got to play with a water spritzer - which he could have done all day - then the gown was put on. Anderson suggested I sit the boy on my lap and wanted me to do the first cut. It was very emotional.

Then the boy got into the swing of things and as he watched the beautiful curls being gathered up by me to give to Grandma and Nani-mummy and others fell on the floor he chided me and Hubbie to leave his hair. It would seem he is not as emotionally attached to it as we are - just as well really.  

Now he has shorter hair. It doesn't take as long to run a comb through. He looks a lot more grown up. 

He is still very cute - just don't tell him I said so - it's not good for his image. 

Don't mess with me - I'm a Mum !

In the last week I've heard more than one discussion that has been focused on the old and - I believe - false distinction between Mums who work and those who stay at home. In one case it was about how women who don't have kids resent those who do as they feel they have to pick up the slack left by their workshy parent colleagues. Then there is that old chestnut about working mums vs stay at home mums. On Radio 4 You and Yours had a woman representing stay at home Mums and a lawyer who returned to work two weeks after giving birth to each of her five children. One caller referred to her role staying at home being so vital because "the most important thing we can give our children is love," thus implying that by returning to work a mother does not love her children as much.

I say it's a false distinction because I honestly believe that with a few exceptions we are all doing the best we can. If we're working we're trying to do the best for our family and if we're at home we're trying to do the best for our family too. No one is deliberately trying to compete with 'the other side' and what about those of us who do both ? I work some of the time, parent most of the time and feel like I'm underperforming all of the time.

The most recent discussion has been about discrimination against women returning from maternity leave and I can very closely identify with this. I returned to work after a year at home with my son and I believe I was constructively dismissed as my boss told me he hadn't been expecting I'd be coming back to his department so he didn't have anything for me to do. At meetings I was invisible and my colleagues pretty much ignored me. When the offer of voluntary redundancy came round I discussed it with Hubbie and we agreed I'd take it and became a stay at home parent as a result. I had worked hard for a promotion before maternity leave in the hope I'd go back to my well paid job and be able to work part time and still earn a good wage. Instead I took a lump sum that cost me my career progression and future job prospects.

Now I'm working again and it's for a lower wage and the work is far more stressful - or does it just seem that way because I'm doing the work while also being a Mum ? I've mentioned before how my own mother worked full time, raised four children and made a home cooked meal every night. She did all this and balanced the family budget on less than I earn now with my part time salary (although I question whether 4 days a week is really part time as it doesn't feel like it !). I've always worried about money. When I had no money I worried about not having enough money. When I earned a lot of money I worried about maintaining my well paid work. Now I worry about having enough money and when I go out for a meal I still scan the menu to make sure I don't pick the most expensive dish and if have wine it's only ever one glass so that I don't go over budget.

We're not badly off by any stretch of the imagination, but I still worry because that's what I'm programmed to do. I ponder the career cul-de-sac I find myself in and any discussion that suggests my son is adversely affected by my being a working mother adds to my anxiety. Bottom line is that some women want to work and some women have to work. Some women choose to stay at home with their children and some don't get a choice. Creating these false walls and comparing apples with oranges doesn't put food on the table or get the children ready for school. It just makes some of us feel a little bit worse.

I don't know about you, but I really don't have time for all that. I have a Hubbie, a son and a cat to take care of. 

Rock-a-bye-baby in the puff pocket

At night just before my son goes to sleep we have a ritual he calls 'little baby in the chair' where he lies in my arms like he did when he was a baby. We sit in the chair I used to feed him in (which is the story chair now) and we talk about our day. He starts with "I had a nice time at nursery" - every day, even when he hasn't been to nursery and if there are any 'issues' to discuss we talk about them.

On Monday there was an incident at nursery where he pushed his friend Finlay so I talked to him about this and explained why it isn't nice to hit our friends. It seemed to do the trick as the next day when Hubbie went to pick him up he got an exemplary report on his behaviour. I have also found this bedtime chat helpful in the past when he's been fussy about food at nursery or seemed upset about something.

The bedtime ritual is ever evolving as he grows and the newest addition is where we talk about things that happened when he was a baby. He loves to see photos of his baby self and will ask to watch videos of himself over and over again. This week I told him about when we were in the hospital for the first few days after he was born and he used to fall asleep lying on my chest. He smiled at the thought of falling asleep on Mummy and it was a lovely way to say goodnight to have a cuddle 'like we did when you were a baby.'

Telling him stories about when he was a baby also makes me and Hubbie revisit memories of the early days. In particular Hubbie remembered how on the first night we came home he spent what felt like hours trying to get our newborn baby boy to sleep. He tried everything and was exhausted himself so when he finally succeeded he panicked that something was wrong and woke the baby up to make he sure he was still breathing.

Most new parents have similar experiences of sleep deprived madness - I referred to our boy as 'her' a few times, but was far too tired to correct myself. In my half awake, half asleep stupor just being able to function was a miracle. I perfected the zombie walk of the sleep deprived new parent. You see it in cafes, on public transport and in soft play centres everywhere. We're all just doing what we can to get through the day and night with this person we adore and who we would do anything for, but who doesn't respect our need for sleep or personal space.

So, it's with dismay that I heard earlier this week that according to new research co-sleeping with your baby increases the risk of sudden infant death syndrome or cot death. A lot of parents co-sleep because they want to bond with their baby and it does make breastfeeding on demand easier. When my baby son was next to me I never fully slept anyway as I was so aware that he was there. We didn't put him in the bed, but on top of our duvet in a creation of Hubbie's making he christened the 'puff pocket.' This was a snuggly sleep space just for the baby fashioned into a sort of papoose that meant he was warm, but separate. I can't recall moving at all never mind rolling anywhere near him and spent a lot of time just watching him sleep and listening to him breathe. Now he is in his own room I still go in during the night and check my son is breathing - every night. It is no hardship for me and it reassures me that he is fine.

Fear of sudden infant death is so paramount for already frightened new parents that anything that's identified as a risk factor will cause them to be on high alert. I just wish that advice for new parents was presented in a kinder and more helpful manner. I remember how scary it is being responsible for this tiny person for the first time. If only every other news story didn't make me want to cry or hide my child indoors for the rest of his life.

Project parent: the sequel.

I've mentioned before that sometimes Hubbie knows me better than I know myself. He diagnosed I was having a migraine (and not dying as I thought I was) and he often tells me to drink water when I'm feeling a bit flat. He is also able to pinpoint more serious concerns in a way that previously only my friend Neil could. It was Neil who pointed out that I was so discombobulated in my new flat because I was surrounded by boxes and this disorganisation offended my sense of order. He knew this because we had lived in shared accommodation at university so he is familiar with my insane OCD tendencies. Also, his housewarming gift to me was a step stool for my kitchen and a can of flea spray - before you wonder why we are still friends I'd asked for both of those things. 

Anyway, I digress. Recently I asked Hubbie - yet again - if he minded me not having a 'proper job' (my words not his) and he said he didn't. Then he had a genius idea. Our new house (of over a year now) has a garage that is riddled with asbestos so he suggested that I project manage the rebuild. I have no experience of building projects so I looked at him sideways. Then I realised that actually what I need is something to keep me busy - other than a toddler and a cat that is. 

Having a project keeps me out of trouble and stops me from pondering and falling into depressive moods. Since we've been together my projects have included; training to be a yoga teacher, moving house, (twice), planning our wedding and the assessment process for our first adoption application. As you probably know I became pregnant with our beloved son so that adoption process came to a halt while we celebrated our new family member. 

Not having a project has left me feeling a bit empty and pointless. While I was pregnant I watched the entire box set of the West Wing and when my son was taking his time to be born I was getting a bit bored so we went out shopping for a car - which we were going to do anyway, but later. Of course having a baby kept me occupied and since then we've also been trying for another with little success and more than a little failure. 

It has left me feeling like my body isn't good enough or that my temperament isn't positive enough to make a baby or that I just don't deserve it enough. All of which is self-defeating. Now that Hubbie has given me a project it's injected some fresh enthusiasm into my well planned routine days. The new routine includes waking up earlier than I have in months to practise yoga - helped by the lighter mornings. This means I'm cheerier when the boy wakes up rather than being as tired and grumpy as he is. 

Being able to take on one new thing means feeling strong enough to take on more. Hence the biggest decision that we've made to get through this phase. We're going back to adoption to complete our family. This means we can look forward to an initial assessment to check we meet the criteria, hopefully further interviews and then the long process of preparing our F1 form for the adoption panel.

We have been here before. It won't be quick and it won't be simple. It will, however, be very different this time. This time we have a young son and he will be part of the assessment process and his interests will be taken into account. This time we have experience of parenting and of preparing for an adoption panel - although not at the same time admittedly. 

So here we go again. 

It's back, it's Adoption: the sequel.