In the cast of Life, this leading lady is now mother to a four-year-old boy. He may not look it, or fit the clothes just right, but he’ll tell you very clearly that he’s four. And that means he’s strong, and brave because that’s what “four boys” are. He turned four last Saturday, and we celebrated with a party with some of his friends from his creche in a Cork soft play centre. There was what can loosely be called a PJ Masks cake, at least one set of tears per child who turned up in the two hours and everyone seemed to have fun, so I guess we call it a success! I like the format I did for last year’s birthday post, an update all about him and his life.
“Love Many, Trust Few, Always Paddle Your Own Canoe”. That’s a phrase my dad repeated through my childhood. It makes sense, keeping your own sense of independence. I was brought up to work hard for the money I got, that there was a pride in working for an honest wage. Work was important, as was being able to support yourself. So, when being out of work for extended time due to my back injury has reduced my income to the level where I’m not independent any more, it probably shouldn’t surprise me that I’m not thrilled with it.
It’s almost the end of May. We’ve managed to survive another month which included some solo parenting, while D has been away. I’m grateful that the trips have gotten a lot shorter in recent months. Random weeks are much easier to deal with than long stretches that feel like they’re home less than they’re away. It’s been a bit of a mixed bag of a month. So, as a bit of a catch up on real life, here’s a snapshot of our lives today as part of the My Little Loves linky on Coffee Work Sleep Repeat.
I saw this brillant post from Nicola at Simply HomeMade that she’s turned into a linky and decided it was definitely time to get nostalgic. Music is such an incredible method of pulling back vivid memories in seconds. I close my eyes and I’m back ten, fifteen years. This has been a lot of fun to put together, and it’s gotten me listening to old classics again! Here are the songs on the Playlist of My Life.
The boy will be three in March. He’s long gone from being a baby, and is even losing his toddler ways. More and more, I’m seeing a little boy when I look at him. We’re enduring the TERRIBLE twos at the moment. Defiant. Tantrums. Enough attitude for his own punk band and then some to spare. He has his own little group of friends from creche, whom he loves. And now he wants a baby brother.
Last Saturday was my birthday. On that day,25 years ago, my mother became a proud c-section Mammy, and I entered the world. I’m sure there have been many times since then that she wishes she had kept the receipt to return me to the midwives, but here we are. At Twenty Five.
As a general rule, I have this depression/mental health thing sorted. I’ve gotten help from my GP, I’ve an understanding partner and family, I’ve seen a psychiatrist regularly over the last two years. I take my meds every night, I make sure to try to get sleep, I know it’s good to talk. For all intents and purposes, for the most part I like to consider the black dog my bitch. There have been a few dips, of course, to teach me my place, but I put a lot of it down to having too much time to think while out of the workplace. So when I returned to work I assumed I wouldÂ be on the home free road. And we all know what they say about people who assume.
I come with a tiny entourage, all 3ft of him, my two year old toddler. I spend most of my days trying to teach him right from wrong, good food from bad food (i.e., leave the stuff in the bin IN THE BIN and come back and eat from your plate) and to say please and thank you to others. Trying to bring a child up is a massive learning curve. I’m a wholly different person to who I was three years ago, before I fell pregnant and my life changed. He’s taught me so many things (yes, I know that sounds cheesy). Here are just some of them…
I’ve not quite hit the midweek slump yet, but I can feel it on the way. I’m over the half way mark of this solo parenting venture, the end is in sight when Himself will be back with us and I will be able to pee by myself. Oh, the little things that bring us joy. It’s been a nice week overall so far, weather-wise it’s been much nicer than usual (let’s ignore getting soaked on the walk home from creche on Tuesday), the scales were in my favour at my weigh in, and I got some very good news at the end of last week, which is always nice. Here’s a look at what I’ve been up to lately!
It isn’t something I write about often, my pain. Mostly because I don’t want to make this blog about my parenting journey into an eternal journal of whinging, but also in a slight denial aspect that if I don’t say it exists then it might go away any day now. That’s not been a successful venture yet, so I’m led to wonder what can be the harm of being honest in this, my little spot of the Internet. For the past two years, I have been parenting with chronic pain.
I’m having a rather unusual Saturday morning here at the Four Walls, Rainy Days house – there was sleep, lots of it, uninterrupted in fact. The joys of E being taken off to a sleepover at his Granny’s house on a Friday night – we got to have a lovely date night, a chance to celebrate some good news we got yesterday, and topped off by a lie in! Who knew this was possible in parenting? Apart from that, it’s been a pretty okay week, a couple of health bits gone bad (thank you athsma for showing up to join the party), it’s been nice having Himself home and getting to do things as our little family of three again. Here’s a bit of a round up of what’s been going on and what we’ve been loving this week – my contribution to the Little Loves linky (from the fab butwhymummywhy) which you can see more of here. Read More
Been a bit quiet around here the last few days. Life has gotten busy, I’ve discovered the joys (sarcasm fully intended) of the late shift when you don’t get a lie in (a work day that ends at 8 when you’ve been up since potentially 5 is not fun), and I was feeling super proud of my sleeping child and my resolve in making my life healthier. Life was good, until I tried to make it better. Read More
I’ve managed to survive 22. For most people that likely isn’t a massive achievement, 22 is generally a rather nondescript year, without major party or celebration. For me though, I’m looking back and thinking “Wow, what a year”. Read More
Today is the second day of August, the eighth month of the year. It’s almost a year to the day that I found out I was pregnant last year – that has simply flown. I sit here now with my gorgeous little man in my arms, accustomed to sleep deprivation, able to make up bottles with one hand and no longer disgusted by much of anything that may get on my person – dealing with baby explosions of all types will do that to you. Back then I was pure terrified – 21, not feeling like a grown up at all, much less a responsible one who would be in charge of making sure someone else had a good life. (To be fair, not much has changed there. Mammy guilt is ever present.)