I used to read books

http://tomcarter.co.uk/?p=796 I love to read. I am a total book geek. Seriously will gleefully start debates with film buffs about how film directors totally destroyed and missed the point of the book they’ve murdered. I have well over 600 books spread throughout my tiny house and god knows how many on my phone, laptop and kindle.

http://serenitydental.net/about/blog/item/314-5-great-kids-books-about-healthy-brushing-habits However, I’m a mum now. I’m a mum to an adorable 5 month old Squish who doesn’t like it when mummy reads. Squish likes to play with his toys with mummy holding him up because he can’t sit properly yet. Mummy must never do this one-handed or Squish will suddenly leap like a salmon and fly into the tv unit/off the sofa etc.

source url So for now I am currently halfway through rereading The Gilded Cage by Vic James so that I can read the second in the series Tarnished City. I also have a giant pile of books from Christmas and that I bought when shopping half asleep. You know how some people buy a load of crappy food when they shop hungry? When I shop tired I buy books, oh so many books!

I have to admit I am more than a little bit obsessed with getting to this pile of books but somehow just cannot manage it. Yes the baby sleeps during the day but only for 20 minutes at a time, but that’s another post all together! But when he does sleep I just cannot bring myself to get any reading done, when I try my eyes hurt from tiredness and serious mum brain means that absolutely nothing makes sense and I end up rereading the same paragraph an inappropriate amount of time.

I also did a big stupid and joined a few mum book clubs and online book clubs. That way I basically have a giant shopping list of books to buy an add to my pile of unread. On these groups I am in total awe of how much these people manage to read, I thought I was pretty quick at reading having completed a degree in English. But these people are amazing, managing houses full of kids and pets and still managing to read two books a week! So I am determined to keep trying, I may or may not end up with a pile of books big enough to build a house out of before I manage to finish my current book but oh well! In the meantime I suppose I should stop moaning about missed books and enjoy my salmon leaping Squish.


5 Things I didn’t know about recovery

So there’s lots I could write about the joys of being freshly postpartum. Seriously so much. But I had to pick 5 so here we go!

1. The jaw ache – if you have gas and air then be prepared to live off soup and tea for a few days. I bit that thing so hard I don’t even remember my jaw clamping shut. The day after giving birth oh my god, my whole jaw, lower face and neck were sore as though I’d somehow had a gym workout all for them!

2. The donut cushion – I don’t know why I didn’t think of this but I’m so glad my mum did. As I arrived home in my favourite armchair was placed a brown hideous inflatable donut cushion. Oh how I laughed. Until I tried to sit down without it. Embrace the donut cushion. Even the softest of armchairs are going to put way too much pressure on an area that right now should not have more pressure on it than a passing cloud.

3. The muscle ache – this one was definitely stupid. You literally pushed an 8lb human out of you. It took basically every muscle in your body. You are going to hurt! I didn’t think about that though until the midwife laughed and said “yes dear we call it being hit by a train syndrome” – they were not exaggerating

4. Lack of dignity – now this one I sort of expected after being poked and prodded throughout pregnancy. But literally I had no shame. My mum helped me out of the bath after being sewn up in the hospital and a healthcare assistant came in with some toast to me in all my naked glory. I gave no shits. I just wanted the toast. In the following weeks the midwives who came to check my stitches at home again no shits crack on love!

5. The hormone high – once Home I expected to be exhausted sore and broken, and I was. But then the hormones hit me like a brick wall. I was superwoman! I could look after the baby perfectly and cook tea and do the washing and serve our spring besotted guests tea and biscuits. I could lift and carry and run round all day. This went on for 7 weeks! Then I crashed and boy did I crash. 5 months on and I’m still going to physio to fix the stuff I broke by doing too much. I should have listened, my husband was right (shhh!) and sat the fuck down!

So that’s my 5, may seem obvious and there are far more tips and whatnot I may write about later. But that’s my 5 things I didn’t really know or understand to expect. What


Love letter to my Perfect Prep Machine

I have been no way paid or encouraged for the following post (would be nice if someone did though lol). But I really have to say this!

Tommee Tippee. Thank you. You saved my sanity!

During the early days when I didn’t know what half the baby stuff was actually for you were always there. Simple. Steadfast. Reliable.

During the screaming fits because I hadn’t quite figured out my baby’s routine yet. God knows how I would have waited half an hour for a kettle to cool!

During the night feeds when honestly I fell down the stairs more than I walked down them due to pure exhaustion. The reassurance of smacking the big round button and hearing you happily roar to life.

During the days of reflux and CMPA and everything going wrong. There you sat. Always ready to do as you were told with no arguments.

Other gadgets will come and they will go. But you my friend. You will always have a special place in my heart.

I love you Perfect Prep Machine. I’m not ashamed to say it. I love you.


I’m going to write…

So, I was going to blog my motherhood journey. I was going to write whether it made sense or anyone read it. I didn’t care. I was going to write, because then at least in a few years I could look back and remember all the little things I had forgotten. I was going to memorialise the good, the bad and the ugly of being a new Mum.

I was an idiot.

I like to think in general I’ve been quite down to earth and honest with myself about what to expect from myself once becoming a new Mum. I wasn’t going to expect perfection, or to get made up or even showered every day. I wasn’t going to expect crafting and breastfeeding and daily educational fun activities. I wasn’t going to expect my baby to have the perfect routine and be happy all the time.

My goals were as follows –

1. Ensure baby is fed and clothed successfully each day

2. Ensure that I was clothed in at least pjs and managed to eat at least one semi-meal per day (graze snack pots count as a meal)

3. Try to make one Mum friend

That was it my goals. Oh and WRITE ABOUT BEING A NEW MUM!

What on Earth was I thinking? Little Squish is now 5 months old (ish) and this is the first time I’ve even had chance to have a fully formed thought about writing a post never mind doing it. It’s not just the constant attention a baby needs, even with a “good” baby. It’s the fact that you are totally fried, Mum brain is a real thing, the exhaustion is nothing like you’ve ever dealt with before and to be honest I now think those women who do manage to blog and Instagram and blog and whatever the fuck else is going on in the world of social media are either robots, high on uppers or simply a different breed of human to me. Because, whilst as a mum you’re never supposed to say this – I cannot do it all. I just can’t.

But I really want to try. So I’m going to try. I may not get onto my instagram or my Twitter or anything else but I’m going to try.

Wish me luck!


Pregnancy Kicked My Ass

So, obviously it has been a while since I last posted and that is simply because – PREGNANCY KICKED MY ASS!!!

Sorry if that offends anyone, but seriously it is so true.

I’ve tried and tried repeatedly to get myself writing but it has just not happened. I have been so tired and exhausted and literally dead on my feet EVERY day that it was barely possible for me to function as a basic human never mind anything further.

Now that it’s over and my little man is finally here I am so grateful that I am not pregnant any more. I feel awful that every morning I wake up and think “thank god it is over!” I know that I should be thankful that I managed to conceive, carry and birth a healthy happy baby – and believe me I am. Yet, I reiterate – PREGNANCY KICKED MY ASS!!!

Line Severinsen’s book of comics about pregnancy is hilarious and worth a look.

I struggled with Pelvic Girdle Pain, horrific heartburn, sickness throughout my pregnancy, sheer exhaustion and oh just being ridiculous uncomfortable. By the end of my pregnancy I was attending weekly physiotherapy sessions for my PGP and basically living on the sofa as any movement at all was horrifically painful.

Basically I am writing this post as a bit of catharsis, because I know how lucky I am to have my baby boy here. However, I feel really guilty for feeling so awful and hating pregnancy so much. I feel like I am mocking women who aren’t able to get pregnant or have happy healthy babies of their own. But I need to remember that by hating pregnancy, I am not mocking them or minimising their experiences. I need to remember that I am entitled to acknowledge that I was uncomfortable and I really couldn’t wait for the experience to be over. I need to remember that every woman’s experiences of fertility is valid and not to be ignored.

Looking at the discussions about pregnancy and women’s experiences you can see that it is fraught and difficult. Firstly because it is a difficult experience, not necessarily a bad one for every one, but the process of getting pregnant, carrying to term and birthing a human being is complicated no matter who you are. Secondly, because of the way that people treat women regarding their fertility – from constantly asking “so when are you going to pop one out” right through to treating pregnant women as public property (something I’m going to go more into). Finally, the way that the woman feels about the whole process is something no one can quite quantify and yet is judged and picked apart at every stage.

Anyway! I am now three weeks postpartum and I am currently juggling my laptop, bouncing the bouncy chair with my foot and repeatedly sticking the dummy back in my little boy’s adorable gob (why has dummy sellotape not been invented?!). As you can tell if you have got this far, my writing is rusty and my brain a bit like mush – but – I am glad to be at least giving it a go!