Saturday, 13 August 2011

OMG I'm a Mummy!

Does it get you like that? I go for weeks just living life, failing to tick everything off my ENORMOUS to-do list, wondering whether anyone on earth has matching socks after the laundry is done, trying to avoid my neighbours in the hallways, ignoring the house phone because I am NOT MICK - WHO IS MICK!? I sit on the floor playing with trains, sit on the sofa watching Baby Jake, sit on the bed reading "Hello, is that Grandma?" (With funny voices), sit beside the bed singing "Catch a shooting star" or The Tractor Song. 

I cross roads clutching a tiny, pink hand safe inside my own. I do that trying to keep the pushchair in a straight line one handed without bruising anyone's shins coming the opposite way. I balance small people on my hips as I make breakfast, I fold nappies, I run shallow, cool baths that smell of blueberries. I do all that without thinking - I do it as naturally as I breathe, it's all part of my day; wake up, feed smallsmall, change nappies, get juice and a banana for bigsmall, put coffee on, remember I needed to pee when I woke, put laundry in, pour coffee, make breakfast for bigsmall and myself, remember again I was meant to go for a pee, rescue carpet from milk/juice/toast smooshing, pee, build the brio-of-the-day, rebuild it, play with it, rebuild it some more, feed smallsmall, rebuild brio-of-the-day, do some work, answer the phone, swear (quietly), top up juice, wonder where I put my coffee, re-build brio-of-the-day - and so on! 

I do it, I answer "Muuuuummmmeeeeeeeeeee" a thousand times, I kiss bruises, I stroke hair, I do silly voices, tell stories, do a Stern Voice, make sure the bleach lid is on and it's out of reach, talk about "hot" and "sharp" as I do things to calm the toddler and stop him climbing me, plan trips to feed the ducks, sort tiny trousers from slightly less tiny trousers so husband isn't confused, buy two kinds of milk, one fat, one not, remember how to chop apples for minimum spit-out opportunities, clap at agonisingly slow counting and lispy words - it's all like breathing, like walking, like moving - it's just there, part of how to be me. 

Then there are times where I wonder how to do any of it - right from the beginning, when I get out of bed - how can I do that? How can I do any of those other things? Surely they'll notice I'm making it up as I go along? Surely someone will realise, and take them away? Surely THEY will notice? But no. Instead - "Mummy" - with total trust that I'll be there, that I'll answer, that I'll solve whatever mystery has arisen, and do a silly dance as I do it.

Today, halfway home from asda - a rare solo trip - I heard a small boy shout "Mummy" and I froze; I'M a Mummy. Me! I'm a proper, real, actual Mummy - twice over! Those tiny hands? They hold mine because I'm Mummy. Those songs? They're sung for my children. My children! 

I know I'm not rare, or special - I'm just doing something millions of women do every single day - but you know what? That IS rare, and special. Those two boys? They are rare, and special. They are mine. They are perfect, and precious, and trust me, love me, need me. I love them - always and all ways - but sometimes, like today, it hits me that it's real - we did it - we made people - and we made great people. Isn't that amazing. 

Monday, 8 August 2011

Monday Dream Meme

I'm pretty sure it's still Monday - I'm almost convinced it is! 

This week I've had me some special dreams. Last night I dreamed that I was in a car, parked, with a woman I didn't know, waiting for my husband who was knocking on doors down the street selling something door to door. The lady was talking to me about feeling unwell and described shooting pains down her left arm and cramps across the top of her chest - I was fairly sure she was having a heart attack but didn't want to panic her so said to wait a second whilst I got my husband so he could call the ambulance whilst I stayed with her and tried to keep her calm; I shouted him then she collapsed onto me and died - I comforted her and tried to reassure her but knew it was too late. 

My husband called the ambulance and when they arrived I was standing outside the car to tell them that she had died - and she sat up and spoke to them and they said it had been an epileptic fit. 

I think this means that I'm worried I'm stalling on my journey and am looking to others (my husband, mainly) for reassurance - but he's exploring his own path, in a variety of ways, so I take control; I panic that I can't be responsible for myself - but in the end nothing is as bad as I think it will be, I just need to reassess from a different direction. I always see the worst case scenario and, whilst things can be difficult, they aren't as bad as I worry they are. 

If you want to join in the Dream Meme at any point, blog your dream and add the link in a comment below - I'd love to hear all about them.

Also, if you're interested in dream analysis, take a look at this link.

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They are silly

There are so many things my toddler, Jellybean, says that amuse me. Toddlers are just such hilarious little people! I wish I wrote them down as he said them as there are so many nuggets of hilarity that I forget by the time I get to sit at the computer to blog.

Here are some of the highlights from the last few days from Jellybean.

(Whilst maintaining eye contact and grunting) "I poo. Is a proper smelly one!" 

"Mummy havin a smelly poo? I help?" (you're alright Jellybean, I can wipe!) 

(Falling over) "Oh goodness ME! I am CROSS!" 

(Seeing a car being towed) "Oh! Mummy, look! That's a jolly exciting lorry!" (I think I'm turning him into an Enid Blighton character at times!) 

"I am OK!" (every single time he falls over) 

"Of course you can, Mummy!" (whenever I ask him anything) 

"Oh no Mummy, you tidy up, I go and snooze. What a clever one you are!" 

"I love you too, you're welcome!" 

"What a funny one I am!" (all the time!) 

"I run you a nice baff Mummy, you stop shouting?" (It was a hard day!) 

"Stop shouting Mummy, I watching telly!" (shame, shame, shame on me!) 

"Pass me my juice lady!" (to me) 

"I love Jassy, he is not rubbish"