Before I Ever Met You

When I discovered I was going to be a mother, I sat and wondered about lots of things. Practical things like what things do we need to buy? What should we name you? HOW WILL I GET YOU OUT?!

But more than just the practical things. What would you be like? What kind of person would you be? Who would you look like?

What can I teach you?

But I never expected for it to work the other way around. What would I be like?

What do you teach me?

Before I ever met you, there was so much I didn’t know, things I didn’t know existed. Like the pure strength of the love I have for both of you. Imagine how it’s possible that you can love someone before you even meet them? You can sense and feel their life begin, and with it this amazing bond begins, with someone you’ve never even set eyes on. And then you both arrived bringing this amazing, new type of love, so strong it almost scares you in case someone takes it away. And when you both arrived, I evolved into something else.

Someone else.

Someone, who before they ever met you, never knew they could actually survive on so little sleep. Night after night, sitting up, cuddling you, rocking you back to sleep. Getting up again, battling away imaginary monsters from your curtains, soothing pains in tummies, sore gums….. kissing away the things that wake you from your sleep. But I did.

Someone, who before they ever met you, used to think I’d never be able to do lots of things. I could never manage to get out of the house with one baby in tow… two babies in tow. I could never feed a baby in one hand and make a hasty sandwich for myself with the other. I could never keep one baby entertained, whilst soothing the other off to sleep for a much needed nap. And the ultimate goal, I could never achieve the all time achievement – dual naps. A thing of sheer beauty! But I did.

Someone, who before they ever met you, never really knew too well the pure sense of pride. The feeling may have come now and then at different points in time, if I achieved certain things in life; when I got my first paycheck.. when I took a great photograph. When I married your Dad. And eventually you both arrived. We fought hard to get you, now you’re both here, all I need to do is think of you. I just think of you, and feel overwhelming feelings of pride, as if my heart could burst with it. When it happens, I turn to whoever happens to be near me, and tell them of you. Something you did, something you said. A look you gave, an example of your amazing little personalities. I tell the stories of you, and feel immense pride. I just think of you, and it’s there. I never knew I could do anything so amazing to feel all this pride. But I did.

Someone, who before I ever met you, never really knew fear. Fear of all the things I immediately knew I had to protect you from, and of all the things I know I’ll never be able to shield you from. The hurts and disappointments that are bound to eventually find you. The absolute fear at the thought of you not being my babies anymore and having to send you out into the big scary world – it seems a world away from us at the moment but I’m learning at a rapid pace just how quick this journey is going to fly past. I can still call you my babies now – always – but one day you’ll be brave enough to do things without having to hold my hand. I just hope I can teach you to be strong enough and wise enough for each step of the way. I never knew fear could be this strong at the sheer thought of something. It makes me feel stronger, to know I will do whatever it may take to protect you from as much as I can. I never thought I could take that fear and use it to strengthen my love for you. But I did.

Someone, who before I ever met you, never really knew patience. Ok, honestly, I’m not going to be winning any awards for my levels of patience any time soon. But you have both taught me how to be more patient than I ever knew I could be. You keep us up all night, night after night. You throw tantrums for the most random, ridiculous reasons. You make us try and figure new things out every single day.  You change the rules constantly and consistently, lulling us into a false sense of security feeling like we finally might know what the hell we’re doing, before changing things all over again. You make us watch the same film a million times, or listen to the same song on repeat every hour and somehow we manage to keep our sanity. You bring us right to the edge of that sanity, and yet somehow, at the end of it all, you make us love you even more. I never knew I could display such levels of patience. But I do.

Someone, who before I ever met you, never really knew what hard work was. Hard in the physical sense sometimes, but absolutely hard in the mental sense of the word. Holding it all together, keeping everything going. Working together as a team, learning new things every day and learning new ways to figure things out every single day. I never knew I could work this hard without ever having a day or even an hour off duty. And what’s more, I never knew I could work this hard without ever wanting a day off from it, never wanting a day away from you. But now I do.

All these things you have taught me about myself, all these things I didn’t know I already knew.

Before I ever met you, I never knew I could be this person, so proud of you both, I will carry you always, learn from you always, love you ‘more than all the twinkly stars’…. always.

Who will I be, who have I become?

A Mama.

IMG_0696

Happy Mother’s Day to all of us!

In particular, to my sister Katie and my sister in law Joanne, who both celebrate their first Mother’s Day tomorrow after Joanne gave birth to my gorgeous niece Emma on the 15th of July 2017, and my little sister Katie gave birth to my beautiful nephew Liam on 26th February 2018. Welcome to the world Emma & Liam! I can’t wait to learn new things from each of you too as an Auntie. No doubt your cousins Rian & Alex will be on hand to teach you both the tricks of the trade in torturing… I mean teaching…your parents of all the adventures waiting for them.

 

 

Beautiful Boy
John Lennon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

7 Ways to Distinguish Between Your Toddler and a Drunk Person

{This post also features on MummyPages Ireland & MummyPages UK}

Here is a simple guide in how to spot the difference between a 1 year old and a drunk person.  Why, you may wonder? Because they are not all that different, that’s why! Follow these steps and learn how to differentiate between whether that object moving around the room is in fact your toddler, or just a random drunk person. Let us examine the evidence.

Alex

  1. Movement

It’s not so much movement in itself, more so HOW they are moving. Are they walking as if they’ve just gloriously filled a nappy, or look as if they’re about to? Are they staggering in bits and pieces? Both types of people will do this. Approach the subject. Can you smell something that isn’t alcohol? Yes? It’s probably your toddler. Assume position; change nappy. Release child back into the wilderness of your house. Repeat inspection in an hour or two.

  1. Coordination

Closely connected to movement, but still not the same thing. Are they lifting objects or pieces of food towards their mouths but hitting their eyeballs instead? Yes. Are they trying to grab your nose but punching you in your eyeball instead? Yes. Closer inspection required. Approach subject. Are said objects squishy or squeaky rather than vessels for various beverages? It’s probably your toddler. Resume normal activity.

  1. Speech

Both suspects will display slurred speech. Also, both will babble a lot, maybe cry a bit. Both intend telling very important and long winded stories except it’s as if they have their own language. Both may drool while telling said stories. Nod along with them knowingly, and approach. If subject appears smaller and gummier on closer inspection, it’s probably your toddler.

  1. Logic

Neither suspect has any notion of impending danger. Both will happily place themselves on the edges of things they can fall off, or sometimes deliberately try and fling themselves off of various things thinking they will be able to fly Buzz Lightyear style. But as Woody gracefully puts it, it’s just falling with style. Regardless of whether this is your toddler or a drunk person, it’s probably worth saving them from themselves anyway.

  1. Embarrassing behaviour

Both types may enjoy playing silly games. Peekaboo, ‘I’m going to steal your nose’ type of things. Random outbursts of emotion can be common, going from ecstatically happy to devastated over the colour of their bottle and crying uncontrollably. Neither are afraid to display a range of emotions in public places, and the more you try and calm them down, generally the worse they get. Approach subject. Are they easily distracted by puddles, sticks, things in the sky, or something like their soother? It’s probably your toddler. Drunk people care not for sticks and puddles I find.

  1. Puke

Yes, unfortunately, puke and plenty of it is part of the package with both types of people. At least, though when your toddler does it, they look at you with their little faces and do something cute, smile and cuddle into you, making you melt, and tricking your brain into thinking that in actual fact, you really don’t mind being covered in random bodily fluids! Puke from a drunk person definitely doesn’t have this effect. Are you feeling all warm and fuzzy inside when said object gazes up at you? It’s probably your toddler.

  1. Random Sleep

Both subjects may be partial to randomly falling asleep in weird places. On the floor, in their high chair, hanging upside down in the middle of a game of swings for example. Approach sleeping subject. Are they drooling? More definition needed. Is one particularly cute and angelic looking while they sleep – again tricking your brain into thinking this is how life always is with said subject – ? If so, it’s more than likely your toddler. Drunk sleeping people tend to look like they’ve just done a few rounds with Conor McGregor. Approach- but for the love of God, whatever you do –  DON’T WAKE THEM UP!

 

Hello 37

Today, I turned 37.

T H I R T Y  S E V E N.

It’s not that I feel old. I remember turning 27 and for some reason, to me that age seemed like a milestone kind of age to reach. At that time, I thought I was positively heading for the proverbial hill, I saw 30 looming in the close distance and I remember thinking that was ancient. I can remember thinking, right, maybe it’s time to start thinking seriously about what it is I want to do with this life of mine.

And now for some reason, 37 is also a birthday that prompted me to stop and think, and sort of take stock. How have these last ten years flown by so fast? I used to wonder – will I settle down and get married? Will I have any children? It was impossible to think of myself adult enough to do either thing. And here I am, a 37 year old wife and mother of two young sons.

I’m really lucky to be able to say that. And I’m really proud of it too. It wasn’t exactly an easy path but as they say, the things we work hardest for bring the best rewards.

So with that in mind, now I’m 37 and hurtling at an alarming pace towards 40, I have decided that my next project will be myself. For as long as I can remember now, losing weight has been a never ending thing I want to acheive. I’ve done it, then lost it, then done it, then lost it. Then I was doing really well, then I did IVF treatment, then thankfully got pregnant. Then I had Rian, and tried again, and started doing really well again. Then more treatment, got pregnant, and here we are back at square one.

A couple of years ago, shortly after I went back to work after Rian’s maternity leave and 3 stone heavier than I was before I had him, an opportunity came my way to take part in a health programme run by a local fitness studio called True Fitness. I applied for a place on a course, where 20 spaces were available. I filled in the form, convinced I wouldn’t win a place, and congratulated myself for trying anyway and thought that was enough effort for one day. At least I tried.

To my alarm I actually did win a place on the course – and sure then I had no choice but to complete it! It petrified me. But I’m so glad I did because it was the thing that completely and forever changed my attitude to exercise, and why I want to do it regularly now. Then, we decided to try for Alex again so in a way I suppose I would say I put myself on hold for a while too.

And here we are. Life with a toddler and a newborn was full on. It still is, with a toddler and a bigger toddler. Despite getting back to regular exercise as soon as I could after our gorgeous Alex arrived, I never got back into the swing of it properly. It’s more than just losing weight – life was so busy and there were other things to focus on, I never really got back to finding myself again. It’s kind of hard to describe.

But since being back at work, things have been full on. I am convinced, the year between a baby turning 1 and 2 years of age, is the hardest one. (So far at least!) Give me the newborn stage any day. It’s tough going, of course it is. Coming up to Christmas I felt so worn out I kept finding myself skipping going to my training sessions, work was busier, I didn’t even find time for myself to write here, which has always been my way of escaping to myself for a few minutes. The ironic thing was, by skippping the training, I was only helping myself to feel more tired.

And so the New Year came around, and something in me clicked again. This is going to be my year, I will do something purely for myself. I don’t mean to make myself out to be another Mother Teresa – big deal, I had kids. So do millions of people. But I wasn’t happy in myself. That’s not to say I was unhappy in my life, far from it –  but I was piling on weight again, and with each pound I gained, I was less and less happy with myself mentally too.

And out of the blue I discovered that True Fitness were launching a Part Two for the original course I did three years ago. Pretty much straight away I put my name down again – the kickstart I needed just landed right in my lap. This time I filled in the form with no fear of what I was signing up to, in fact the opposite.

Before I even started the course this time around, I felt better. The biggest thing I learned at the very first one, which was a complete revelation to me, was that losing weight wasn’t to be my goal, but a side effect of a different goal. At the time I thought, yeah ok fine, that sounds great and all, but really I’m only here to lose the weight. But slowly I realised I wasn’t only there to lose the weight.

We constantly set goals for ourselves in life thinking if we can just reach this one thing, this one milestone, it will make us happy. But do we ever stop and wonder what we’ll do if we actually achieve it? What will we choose as the next thing to make us happy?

There’s a sort of freedom I found when I entered my thirties, which was that I discovered I give zero shits about what people think. And that just seems to strengthen as I go along. I can totally see how I’ll probably end up being a total embarassment to Rian & Alex the way everyone sometimes thought their parents were. Being uncool around their friends by insisting they consider sensible things and all that sort of stuff. They’ll be morto, I won’t give a shite!

And at the ripe old age of 37 it has finally dawned on me. I need to focus on the things I have and enjoy them, to not assume I’ll have them on my way to get the things that I think will make me ‘happy’. Even the things in life that aren’t so great – figure out ways to either make them great, or learn to accept them for what they are. And I need to do this within myself too.

So 37 years old, this will be my year. I might not make it all the way to skinny, and maybe I will. It doesn’t matter. But three weeks into the course and it has already uncovered bits of the old me. I am already so much happier in myself. This is my goal, maybe the weightloss will follow, that will be nothing but a bonus. After the last few years of IVF and then thankfully getting to grow two perfect babies, I’m taking myself back for a little while. Happy Birthday to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Making of Memories

{Featured on MummyPages.ie}

Someone asked me recently what my earliest memory was…the very first thing I ever remember happening. It is a memory from when I was around 3 years old, and I only know I was that age because I remember being in the kitchen of the house we lived in at the time, which we moved from when I was 4 . There were blue walls I think, and I was sitting at the table eating breakfast. The sun was coming in through the window and I can see my Mam at the kitchen sink, I remember she was wearing a long skirt and she’s singing a song. I want to say it’s ‘You Are My Sunshine’, but honestly I’m not sure if it was that, or if I just think it was because that’s what I sing to my two boys. Maybe that’s why I started singing it to them… that bit has got mixed up in my mind but anyway, that’s the memory.

And now that Rian is almost three, it dawned on me that any of these days might turn into his earliest first memory that will stick with him. So I suppose it’s kind of like when you know there’s a speed check up ahead, and you want to be on your best behaviour in case you get caught. What if his memory decides to pick the day I’m cross with him, or the very moment I crack under the pressure, lose my patience, and shout?! So I’m trying extra hard to keep it calm and channel my inner Mary Poppins (although, side note, I adore that film, but I’m not sure why we hold Mary Poppins in such high childcare esteem when you think what she actually did with those kids. Jumped into paintings, entered them into a horse race without even a helmet in sight, floated to the ceiling in some random old man’s house, managed to get them lost in the middle of London on their own chasing after a homeless woman feeding pigeons, dancing on roofs and leaping up and down chimneys…but who am I to judge!)

So it’s kind of a big responsibility. Not just the first memory, but all the core memories. We’re responsible for the childhood of two people…that’s a serious responsibility. You don’t really think of these things on a day to day basis, most of the time it’s just getting dinners cooked and kids washed and hoping we all get a night of uninterrupted sleep and things like that. We make an effort do do things with them, things that involve investing time. Playing games with them, making things with them, involving them in the cooking and baking things, going for walks and all those sorts of activities, nothing unusual there.

As a full-time working mother, or as I prefer to say, an outside-the-home working mother, I’m plagued with constant guilt and always questioning myself about whether I should be leaving them. Missing little day to day things, the things that  inevitably add up to big parts of who they are. It’s not easy, but it’s something I just have to deal with. So I ask myself, how can I make it work? How can I make sure that the memories they have that will stand out won’t be of the days when I’m at work?

All I can come up with is to make sure that the time we do have together is full of fun and happy things. Of course there’ll be the day to day things, but I want them to grow up and remember things like us all baking something together. Or reading books together, or painting pictures. Going for walks to hunt for the Gruffalo (in our house, this seems to be the most fun an almost three year old can have!) The more I think about it, the more I realise that I’m no different in wanting these things just because I leave the house to go to work. Does every mother have the same guilt regardless of whether they work outside or if they stay at home and work there every day? Probably. We all just want those core memories to light up yellow (ever since I saw Inside Out this is how I picture it!), and stay stored in a cosy little corner of their minds and hearts forever.

And some days, I know it’s working. Recently my heart almost exploded when I saw Rian playing with ‘Sniffy’, his favourite can’t-sleep-without-him soft toy. Sniffy got flung to the other side of the room, presumably trying to fly, but he landed kind of awkwardly. Rian went over, picked him up and asked, ‘You ok Sniffy?’ Then tucked him into his neck as if Sniffy was a tiny baby, stood there and sang to him ‘You Are My Sunshine’….

I get it wrong a lot of the time, I know I do. But when these little moments appear that show me that sometimes I’m also getting it right, at least getting it the way I’ve chosen, well, there’s just nothing better. Maybe it is possible to work away from the home and not see them all day every day, and still create those all important core pieces of comfort, happiness, security, home…love.

 

. .

 

 

 

 

The Babymakers – Thoughts

{ Also features on MummyPages.ie }

Last year, around the time I was preparing myself for our third Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET) in an effort to have our second baby, I read online somewhere that TV3 were looking for couples to take part in a documentary series they were going to film about IVF. Last Monday we watched the last episode of the four part documentary, and I have to say I have mixed feelings about the show.

My good friend Will and I had a lengthy discussion about it at work the other morning. He and his wife have been through IVF as well – something that he has openly written about on his own blog. Chatting about it with Will was great as I realised we both had similar feelings about the show. See his thoughts on the matter here.

When I first heard they were going to do it, I was delighted. Obviously I have an invested interest in the topic, but it was more than that. At first I wasn’t sure why, but when I sat and thought about it, I realised I was happy that people might finally get an insight into what it was like to actually go through IVF. It’s a very lonely thing to go through because generally, even though there are two of you going through it,  people don’t want to talk about it. So when you are actually open about it, and people ask you about it, it’s very hard to get across just how tough it actually is. I mean not only tough physically with the injections and drugs – but my biggest issue with IVF services in this country is the shocking lack of mental and emotional backup and support and that’s something that is very much glossed over. So when I heard about this show I just thought, at last, people might understand now just what exactly it was we went through. It also just made me happy that the topic was going to get some coverage if nothing else.

The series focused on a handful of couples attending the SIMS fertility clinic in Dublin. I was under no illusion that the main aim of this whole thing was essentially one big ad for the clinic. It featured a couple from the various basic fertility issue aspects – IVF itself, ICSI, a case with Secondary Infertility, a same-sex couple (IUI with donor sperm), and a couple doing IVF using a donor egg. In other words they were showcasing the various procedures and services that they offered. Fair enough.

BUT.

At no point did they actually explain what is involved in each treatment. Not even a basic overview of IVF. So I was able to understand everything because I had been through it. But chatting to family and friends who had never done it, it just seemed to portray it as something simple you can choose as if you were at a restaurant.

Another inaccuracy if you like, was the timeline. One of the hardest things about IVF is the constant waiting for things to start, things to end, things to try, things to test. Realistically, one standard cycle of IVF would take at least two months to even get going by the time you meet your consultant, do some tests, start preparing your body for the treatment. Depending on what your exact issue is, they decide a plan of action, and these vary from around 10 days to a month or maybe more. This is just the prep, assuming you have had all the basic pre tests done like blood tests, checks on your womb and ovaries, sperm analysis etc. And then you start the actual IVF treatment – egg collection, fertilisation, embryo development, then (hopefully) they replace the embryo and it’s the horrific two week wait to see if it has worked. The impression from watching that show was that things happen much faster than they do in reality.

This moves me on to that two week wait. Without question, the worst six weeks of my life were each of the waits to see if our embryo transfers had been successful. And this is probably where I felt most let down by the show. I wanted I suppose for them to acknowledge what a challenge this really is. If you’re going to do it, at least do it honestly and accurately and as raw as it really is. It was sort of touched on, mentioned once or twice about the fact it takes two weeks but nobody, in my opinion, really was able to convey just how torturous the wait itself is. I don’t want it to seem that I’m critical of the couples taking part, because that took amazing courage to do in my opinion, but I still felt that this just wasn’t portrayed in a realistic way. We saw people getting the results of their tests but not much about the pressure of the lead up.

The thing that constantly surprises me about my experience with IVF is how it has never really left me. It has had such a deep impact on me, it’s something I feel passionate about, something I still get very emotional about. It might be easy to assume that because we were one of the unbelievably lucky ones who had success with it, that I would move on and sort of forget what it was like. And sometimes I think I have forgotten, but then watching this show I found it incredibly hard at times. Despite the things I didn’t like about it, I was glued to it. Parts of it were hard to watch and I found myself in tears when something happened and the same thing had happened to me – when our initial cycle was cancelled was my absolute lowest point in my whole life. Not just because it was cancelled but because I had learned how it felt to really have lost all hope for something that I had really believed in, and the heartbreak that comes with it. So I identified with parts and re-lived things and I think I realised that the experience will never really leave me at all.

In some ways, I think the fact that is was vague in some areas is maybe good. If you are new to IVF, I think in one way it might be good that ignorance is bliss. Less to worry about going into it, and less stress is clearly a good thing. It was great to have the coverage on such a topic that for some reason I don’t quite fully understand is so taboo. Infertility is a medical condition, in my opinion nothing to be embarrassed about. I don’t understand the shame sometimes surrounding it – if I had a kidney or liver or heart condition I wouldn’t be embarrassed. So the coverage was great. But I just wish, seeing as they were going to do it, they had spent that bit more time on the topic and experience itself rather than a showcase of what one clinic can provide which for me, this ultimately was.

 

Return to Work – The Fear

{ This post was also featured on MummyPages.co.uk }

I’m back to work soon, and I’m not sure I’m ready. Yes, sometimes I think of the nice aspects to it – getting to use my brain for non baby related things, having great chats and laughs with my colleagues and friends, getting to dress in clothes that won’t get covered in a range of bodily fluids, having a lunch break, Fridays that feel like Fridays again. I haven’t even used my own handbag for a year in favour of throwing everything into the changing bag because, well, what’s the point! And of course, getting paid at the end of the month. All excellent things and reasons to be glad about it.

But. There are a range of emotions that come with it. People often describe maternity leave as being ‘off work’. It’s not. It’s much much much more work than actual work. That’s fine, I love about 80% of it, I’m very grateful to have had the chance on both babies to take extended leave meaning I have been home with them for almost a year each time. The obvious worst part is having to leave them again, not seeing them in the mornings and having the fear of missing a ‘first’ while I’m at work. The cuddles, kisses and random cute things they say and do. Things they might say or do that I would find amazing, but to someone else might just be another ‘thing’ and not necessarily worthy of being reported to me. And I’ll miss it altogether… honestly just thinking of this makes me want to cry. I cannot explain just how much I am going to miss them. If I could just train them to reserve these things for when I’ll be there that would be perfect! They will be in excellent hands with our childminder, no doubts or worries there whatsoever. But I’m their mother. Part of me wonders should I be leaving them at this age? I won’t get into that now, it’s not like I have the choice. Mortgages and bills have to be paid and that’s that.

There is an element of anxiety looming. It’s a strange thing of being familiar with something and being unfamiliar with it all at once. It’s like starting a new job, but you know the people and the place. It’s been a year since I was there, and no doubt things will have changed. There’ll be in-jokes that will go over my head until I catch back up again. There will be new systems, new people, new things to learn. Even the things I already knew, I will have to learn again. That was a bit of a shock when I went back after my first maternity leave. I felt like all the things I had known up until that point on how to do my job got melted away with every night feed and sleepless night with a newborn. I remember sitting for a few minutes trying to remember how to do something I had previously been able to do with my eyes closed. Having to ask for help again for something I feel I should already know. And that shakes your confidence, or at least it does for me.

There’s a sense of paranoia. What if I’m not as good at my job anymore? Obviously, I have more on my mind now than I had the last time I was there, thinking about the boys and wondering are they missing me being there. Am I focusing enough on it, giving it my best? What if the person who was covering my maternity leave was better at my job than I am? I don’t mean that I feel like it’s a competition in any way, but it’s sort of odd, handing over your job and responsibilites to someone and then coming back to see how things are done, if they are done differently. It’s yours and yet it’s someone else’s at the same time.

You’re sort of expected to slot straight back in, as if you’ve only been off work for a weeks holiday. That routine Monday morning thing of ‘How was your week off?’ And the routine reply of ‘Ah you know yourself, just took it easy’. ‘How was your leave?’ ‘Well, I just grew and produced a whole person, didn’t sleep for about six months and managed to figure out how to keep them plus a toddler alive successfully, you know…just took it easy.’ ‘Great stuff, well done. Have you got that report?’

Maybe that’s my own expectation, or theirs, or both… I’m not sure. But it’s a big change, and I just don’t find it easy to slot straight back in. There are good aspects to it too – I feel like a different person now than when I left – well of course I am. I teach my children things every day, and they teach me things about myself right back in return. Things I used to get stressed about in work no longer stress me out at all. A ‘don’t sweat the small stuff’ type of thing. I can multi-task like a champion. I can make decisions quickly and under pressure and not feel the fear as much as I did before doing these things. I can manage my time much more effectively. Really, the more I think about it, the more I reckon maternity leave should really count towards your annual review – the new skills you pick up are beneficial in so many ways! Not that I was bad at this stuff before, at least I hope not, but it gives you another type of confidence in your abilites, even if I can’t for the life of me even remember what my login password was!

Well anyway, whether I like it or not I’ll soon find out if I’m right. The return date is looming, no point ignoring it anymore. Now, if I could only remember where I left my puke-free handbag.

 

 

 

 

 

The Nostalgia Factor

I’m sentimental, I always have been. I’m very nostalgic, I’ll listen to a lot of – let’s face it, cheesy music – purely because it will take me back to a time or a place that makes me feel happy.  I’m that type of person who ends up ruining the last couple of days of their holidays because I get so disappointed that they’re almost over and wishing I could go back in time and do it again. For the majority of decisions I make, my heart rules my head.

I take A LOT of photographs of the boys. One look at my Instagram, and you’ll have noticed that already. There aren’t any photos of latte art and nice rustic looking meals all perfectly arranged. It’s really not all that interesting unless you love looking at pictures of EXTREME CUTENESS, the two most adorable little boys I have ever set eyes on! Yawn you might think, don’t worry I get it, I get fairly bored looking at photos of other people’s kids too. But I take the photos for me, and I keep my favourites on Instagram as a sort of portable photo album for myself and I love looking back at the older ones.

There’s another reason I like doing this though. I’ve come to realise something probably already very obvious, but it only properly dawned on me the other day. Just how fast they are changing. Of course I know it already, I say it all the time. But I’m realising that as well as learning new things, getting taller, those sort of things, their whole personalities are completely changing. The person they are today is not necessarily the same person they will be tomorrow. Of course there’s an element of that in us all, but it’s much more amplified in kids.

This time last year, I used to have to ask people not to say the word ‘Banana’ around Rian, because he would almost explode with the excitement such was his love for bananas. Even hearing the word would make him hop up and down with excitement, and want one on the spot, and I couldn’t have him eating bananas all day and night. A few months later, the wonder of bananas had worn off, and his main purpose in life changed to eating ‘Gapes and Oburt’. That’s grapes and yoghurt to you and me. Gapes and Oburt even had their own song, that’s how much he loved them. He also used to get excited at the sight of the ‘Mote-Orto’, because seeing the Remote Control usually led to his other favourite thing in life, Thomas the Tank Engine. But even then, he only wanted to listen to the songs, so, I would spend my life watching this song, leaving it forever engrained on my brain, over and over.  ‘AGAIN MAMA!’, so we’d rewind it and watch it again. And again. On a journey indeed.

It’s a bit like when, with a baby, you might pull a face which makes them almost cry with laughter it’s that funny. About an hour later you do it again, and they sit looking at you like you’re the biggest parental embarrasment they’ve ever had to face. What could possibly have happened in one hour to turn something from side splittingly hilarious to absolutely pathetically sad?!

So when Rian comes in and suddently asks for ‘grapes and yoghurt’, pronouncing it perfectly, and says, ‘oh there you are remote control!’ in the hope that I will put on Thomas, my nostalgic self feels a bit sad for the little person they have left behind, and a bit sad that I won’t hear the cute way he mispronounces his words. These little examples and how I’ll miss them are probably part of the reason why I cried at the part of Toy Story 2 when Jessie’s owner outgrows her and she’s flung under the bed, or in Inside Out when (spoiler alert) the imaginary friend character sacrifices himself. I cried! Why? Beats the hell out of me. I never had an imaginary friend, so I’ve no idea why that particular part got to me but for some reason, I find it extremely hard to let things go, however unimportant they may seem. So what I wonder is, will this turn me into a clingy type of mother who wraps them up in cotton wool? I hope not, I don’t want that. Judging by how Rian seems so independent already, I don’t think so. But I know there are things about them growing up that I am going to find so hard. I already miss parts of his personality that he has grown out of. Little things he says or does. No doubt it will be exactly the same with Alex. I’m sure all parents are the same in that regard.

I suppose you could argue that being too nostalgic could be a bad thing – it’s important to embrace change and look to the future and all those wise words people say we should all do. I’m not one to embrace change easily, although I’m trying to get better at it. But the fact I cling to nostalgia so much is also good too I think. It makes me appreciate them for how they are now because I know, in the near future, maybe even as near as tomorrow, they will change again and I will miss the version they are of themselves today.

Sometimes, after one of those long  days when everyone is cranky and tantrumy and growing teeth and things, I’m wishing for bedtime, for peace and quiet. There’ll always be those days. When I’m not in the mood to watch another episode of Thomas again, that same episode again, because that’s his favourite one. To read that same book again for the 50th time in a row about Smartest Giants and Witches on Brooms and Gruffalos.

Instead, I recognise that tomorrow he might not want me to read to him at all anymore. Next week, he might not want to cuddle with me on the couch under his favourite blanket and watch Percy and Thomas cause ‘confusion and delay’. I know there’ll come a day when my nostalgic self will long for these days back again. I just wish they weren’t whizzing by so fast! And off I go again on my little nostalgic merry go round, dreading the changes instead of enjoying them while they’re happening right now.