Empathy: the perils of a wet bathroom floor

img_3869

I took a tumble today. Nothing serious. But it did hurt. And it made me realise I’m not that steady on my feet after all!

Ralphie was sat on our bed watching Postman Pat. Don’t judge. He loves it (although is he the only one? I can’t find decent Pat toys anywhere!). And it means I can shower in peace. Anyway, watching in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, I saw him stand up, grin at me and proceed to walk backwards towards the edge of the bed. “STOP!” I shrieked. At the same time, arms outstretched, toothbrush still in hand, I launched myself out of the bathroom to grab him. Except I didn’t make it. I fell flat on my face.

Maybe it was because he saw me fall. Maybe it was because I shouted “Fuuuuuuuck!!!!!” Maybe it was the shock of seeing his half naked mother hurling through the air towards him. Or maybe it was because he was genuinely concerned. Whatever it was, he stopped suddenly in his tracks and sobbed.

I like to think I took one for the team. I whacked my knee and scraped my side. But he didn’t fall off the bed. I think we both ended up having a little cry at the shock of it all.

And you would think that would have been the end of it. It nearly was.

Ten minutes later, after emptying the contents of my bedside table onto the floor, into the bathroom he trotted. The floor was still wet and… you guessed it. Whooooooooooosh! Those little legs of his shot out from underneath him and before I could leap to his rescue he was lying flat on his back.

He took it well to be fair. Thankfully he doesn’t have far to fall. And his arms helped to break the worst of it. But you know that moment of dreaded silence before they unleash their cries…argh I hate it!

Daddy plays football on a Sunday morning. Usually it’s him fishing for sympathy as he recounts bad tackles and shows off his war wounds. Today, I think he was far safer running around outside in the aftermath of Storm Doris (what a pain she has been!). Us? We’re steering clear of the bathroom and that damn wet floor for a good while!

IMG_3866.JPG

Advertisements

Eat, sleep, play, repeat, and then repeat some more

It has dawned on me that I can’t really call myself a blogger if I don’t blog that much. The truth of the matter is that I find myself writing most nights, just not for this. And it’s a real shame, because Ralphie is providing me with more blogging material than ever. He is such good fun. However, I have a bone to pick…

I remember watching The Teletubbies with my sister when she was younger (the first time it came around) and getting ever so frustrated when they repeated everything. I thought to myself, just get on with it! But alas, those little televisions would flicker away and they would keep playing the same video reel again and again.

img_0754

Turns out it’s because little ones like it. And now I understand, because I’ve got a little repeat Ralph of my own.

His favourite thing is to go and open the fridge a MILLION times a day. But he’s also partial to Postman Pat on repeat, me tickling him again and again, daddy chasing him around and around, the same book over and over. Basically, anything he likes, he wants to repeat to his heart’s content. For the most part, I’m more than happy to play along.

Take tonight, for example. I employ numerous distraction techniques to make the bedtime change as smooth as possible. He’s tired, he’s a bit ratty and the last thing he wants me to do is put a clean nappy and fresh pyjamas on. The torture! So we have cuddly toys, we have songs, and we have the classic round-a-round the garden. This evening we were also driving around his Duplo train and as I handed him to Daddy for bedtime milk, all he wanted was for us to drive that bloomin’ Duplo train up and down his tummy, noises and all. Ten minutes I lasted. And it was worth it for his shrieks of delight. But I also happened to be extremely hungry!

img_2844

So what’s a mother to do? How long will this repeat stage last? How do I endure this without completely losing my marbles? And will it not make Ralphie a bit mad too?

For me, the only answer for now is sleep. Eat, sleep, play and then I’m all ready to repeat. It’s a good job he gives me a smile like this every morning!

img_3214

Taking stock: my new life as a working mum

IMG_1316.JPG

This Thursday just gone, I will have been back at work 11 weeks. Friends and family ask me how it’s going, and I usually find myself shrugging at them and saying “it’s fine.”

It is.

And actually, I recognise that I’m very lucky. I’ve been fortunate to be able to go back part time to my old role as an editor. Ralphie spends two days a week at nursery and another day with my dad, and he seems to be loving it. Which means that two days a week we have mummy-baby time. We play around the house together, we head out for walks, we go to baby groups and we meet up with friends.

Weekends with Ryan at home pass us by in a flash. And then we’re doing it all over again. Back to the routine. Is this really it?

But rather than complain, I have started to try and do something about it. Just under a month ago I launched a new little venture I’ve been working on. It’s something I feel very passionate about – and I have to really because to fit it in between life, being a mum and everything else, I tend to work on it late into the evenings.

It’s called Small Baby and I got the idea for it from doing this blog. Basically, it’s an online magazine that shows off some of the best small businesses creating cool stuff for children. Some would say it’s a bit of an indulgence. And I suppose it is. I’m not even going to deny that my insta feed is a glorified wish list! But it has a greater purpose too. I want to give a voice to the brave people (who usually happen to be mums) who have taken the gamble and decided to set up their own business so they can be around for their children and provide for their family. To them, every purchase, every customer shows them that they’ve done the right thing. And I want to celebrate that.

If you fancy popping over and having a read, it would mean the world. It would also provide a welcome boost to my readership figures, which I’m desperately trying to grow!

I’m frustrated I haven’t been able to post on here as regularly as before. But I’m still writing. In fact, I’m writing more than ever! Every day and every night. Hopefully, one day those words will get me where I want to be, wherever that is!

img_0466

Lost in a moment

2BBA0A90-2592-4E0F-A3F7-E51FEFD90DD5.JPG

Life has sped up again. It’s like someone has taken a remote control, pointed it at us, and fast forwarded at 30x speed. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.

It hasn’t been an easy few weeks. Managing the transition from maternity leave to work, from baby to toddler, not to mention the onslaught of bugs that has left us all snotty, bleary eyed, wheezing wrecks – it has, in all honesty, taken its toll. I don’t think any of us can quite remember what it’s like to feel well.

But we’re hanging on in there and in between the daily grind, we’re still having plenty of fun. And at least I’m not crying when I leave Ralphie anymore. The guilt lingers, but thankfully the tears have dried up!

Since Ralphie’s birthday, it has been all change again. I know I probably say it every time, but I think this is my favourite stage yet. He is so damn cheeky, and I love it. He knows exactly what I’m saying to him, and if it’s no (i.e. please don’t pull my hair or chuck your cup on the floor for the 100th time), he cocks his head to the side and gives me a little grin.

His language is coming on in leaps and bounds. He can say mama, dada, grandad, nana (much to my mum’s disappointment as she wants to be grandma), again, more, yes (he actually says “da”) and a whole load of other babble that we haven’t been able to translate yet.

Waving is his new favourite thing. He waves to get mine and his dad’s attention, he waves goodbye (usually when the person has turned their back and gone), and he waves at strangers in the street before giving them the cheesiest of grins. This boy loves attention and he knows how to get it!

Now at 13 months, it’s looking pretty unlikely that Ralphie’s going to be an early walker! But he is walking around as much as he can – he scales walls, doors, the washing machine, the sofa. It won’t be long, and I’m not rushing him. The fast breathing noises he makes as he crawls are too funny.

We use an app called Moment Garden to share photos of Ralphie with close friends and family. My photo sharing endeavour is endless, I know! One thing this app does is send a daily update with a moment from a year ago today. Ryan has turned into a broody mess as he reminisces about our tiny little squidge that used to placidly lie there and smile up at us. I miss those days too, but motherhood has taught me to appreciate the now. I was a rubbish planner before, and now I’m even worse. Because all I’m trying to do is enjoy today and remember it all. Time, you are a scary thing.

IMG_0844.JPG

Starting a blog post at midnight

 

So I’ve decided to start an online diary. And I’m writing my first post at just gone midnight. Why? Well I’m up feeding my newborn son and I’ve been meaning to do this for a little while, so I figured now was as good a time as any. I’m actually a writer by trade. For more than seven years that’s been my 9-5, and I’ve absolutely loved it. But over the last few weeks I’ve not written a single word (bar the odd text), and that’s because I’ve become a mum.

He’s called Ralph (endearingly known as Ralphie), and his dad and I are utterly besotted. The past nine weeks have been nothing short of amazing, but they’ve also been a complete blur, which is why I’ve decided to start jotting down as much as I can – one anecdote after another. I can’t promise it will be daily. But, in between the feeds, nappy changes and cuddles, I’ll do what I can. Wish me luck!