Good Lord! What a weekend! Alpha Mum and Beta Dad have been in sixth gear whilst towing the kids along for the ride. At one point I though, "oh eck, I've become one of those pushy mums". You know the ones.
They stand at the side of the stage during the 'Britain's Got Talent' auditions whilst their 4 year old is singing Charles Gounod's Ave Maria, proceeded by a dance from musical theatre featuring a copious amount of jazz hands before ending their act with the soliloquy from Juliet's death scene. At the end Simon Cowell says, "I didn't like it...(CROWD BOOS - CHILD CRYING INCONSOLABLY)...I loved it! (CROWD CHEERS, AFORESAID PUSHY MUM RUNS ON THE STAGE AND EMOTIVE MUSIC SUCH AS 'THE FLOOD' BY TAKE THAT IS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND; CHILD STILL CRYING BUT WITH A WRY SMILE)
Just to rewind back a little, our Friday night started calmly and routinely. By that I mean red wine, a take away and my weekly texts from my friends at Pizza Hut and O2 Priority Moments. When I started to receive these texts I was initially cheesed off with spam infiltrating my messages. However, I then realised that they were two out of possibly four, five at a push, text messages that I receive each week so if they stopped, I'd probably be gutted.
To summarise the weekend as it happened:
Saturday am:
Bethan's Ballet Lesson (a different class where some lovely lady plays the piano)
Saturday pm:
Swimming Lesson 1 - Bethan
Swimming Lesson 2 - James
Children's Birthday Party
Sunday am
Mass and Sunday School
Sunday pm:
Family photo shoot
Gardening
G&T o'clock (well, why should the kids have all the fun?)
It is a sad fact that our children have a better social life than us. Mind you, going to birthday parties for the children is the only time that you can get a group of good friends together to have a catch-up. Ok, so we might be catching-up whilst our third eye is on constant guard for crying or injured children but nevertheless, I think I look forward to these events more than the children as I get to see what has been going on outside of the Hillier bubble.
This is why I've decided to organise a BBQ for 3 weeks time under the guise of celebrating James' 1st Birthday. In all fairness, James could not be bothered if he has a party or not as long as he can chew on someone's foot or shoes (they tell me it's a phase). The planned BBQ is founded on purely selfish reasons; I just want to have another catch-up with friends again. It will be like the old times except that we will be dancing around potties and Little Tikes playing equipment as opposed to our handbags.
The only problems with my cunning plan is: a) I forgot to put the date in the virtual invite I sent out (ok, a text message then) and b) we don't actually have a BBQ because the last one we had was used to help hold up our fence after a big gust of wind knocked it down. That poor thing rusted away against the fence for some time - it ended up looking like some kind of post-modern art work.
I digress. Again.
Whilst it was indeed a very busy and tiring weekend it was fab and full of funny memories! To top it off, the sun shone on the garden whilst I listened to Chaka Khan and watched the kids play with each other in their wee playpen. Bliss...
Showing posts with label baby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baby. Show all posts
Saturday 13th April 2013
Battered, bruised, exhausted and that's just my ego. It's been exactly one week since I last blogged but it feels like a lifetime has passed.
This week has been a blur, a haze...It's been one of those weeks where I've been so tired that I put the butter in the microwave because I thought it was the fridge (that was messy); it's been one of those weeks where I've thought I need to take some annual leave from this job and thought crap! I can't; it's been one of those weeks that I've thought, I probably need to consider resigning and let someone better have a go only to realise, once more that, crap! I can't.
Baby-led weaning has turned into a game of Subbuteo where, for the sake of peace, I have become the goal keeper. Potty Training: Part 2 The Return of the Singing Potty has been even more stressful than last time because Bethan's bowels are constantly on my mind. However, the most tiring and guilt-ridden thing that has been plaguing me day and night for the last 7 days is this: I can't wait to go back to work for a break.
Only three weeks ago such a thought would have horrified me; I was kind of getting into that whole earth-mother vibe and 'livin of the fatta of the land' ;-). Now I'm thinking, who am I kidding? I'm far too neurotic to be an earth mother! I'm just going to admit it: 24/7 with my two beautiful children for 14 days, 18 hours and 36 minutes has been very difficult.
This pill is even more difficult to swallow because I know how bloody lucky I am to have them. When Bethan was a couple of days old fighting for her life in an incubator my mum said to me, "She's strong; you're going to be nose to nose with her". I was hysterical saying that even thinking such a thing was too much because she could die at any moment.
As ever, m'mam was right. Bethan is strong; not just physically but also strong of mind.
As I was on my knees on one of our daily sojourns to the naughty step this week, I looked up into Beth's water-filled blue eyes and her mottled face from the amount of frustrated crying and had a very vivid flashback of sitting beside that incubator and having that conversation with my mum. It was at that moment after looking at Beth and then James did I realise that I'd hit a wall and needed some 'out time'. Following this epiphany I've had many sleepless, guilt-infested nights culminated in the following assertion: I can't justify why I need to work; it just feels like the right thing to do.
Mind you, once I'd come to terms with this 'feeling' (for now at least), chez Hillier has been back to its completely mad and frantic self today.
Desperate not to miss our first swimming lesson after the holidays, I started getting us all ready quite early this morning. It came as no surprise that we were still stuck in traffic 5 minutes before the lesson was supposed to start (Note to self: Put a brown paper bag in the glove compartment. This will help with 'why are we on the drag again?' hyperventilating). Once parked, we went rushing into the private building where the pool is, started to frantically get ready until,
"Liz, why are we the only ones here?"
I turned to Rob and went,
"Oh crap!"
Oh yes; I'd got the wrong pool on the wrong week. Many apologies to the residents of Cardinal Lofts in Ipswich. We saw the security camera whilst swimming alone in your pool but what is an Alpha Mum to do when you're dressed for the party and have nowhere to go?
This week has been a blur, a haze...It's been one of those weeks where I've been so tired that I put the butter in the microwave because I thought it was the fridge (that was messy); it's been one of those weeks where I've thought I need to take some annual leave from this job and thought crap! I can't; it's been one of those weeks that I've thought, I probably need to consider resigning and let someone better have a go only to realise, once more that, crap! I can't.
Baby-led weaning has turned into a game of Subbuteo where, for the sake of peace, I have become the goal keeper. Potty Training: Part 2 The Return of the Singing Potty has been even more stressful than last time because Bethan's bowels are constantly on my mind. However, the most tiring and guilt-ridden thing that has been plaguing me day and night for the last 7 days is this: I can't wait to go back to work for a break.
Only three weeks ago such a thought would have horrified me; I was kind of getting into that whole earth-mother vibe and 'livin of the fatta of the land' ;-). Now I'm thinking, who am I kidding? I'm far too neurotic to be an earth mother! I'm just going to admit it: 24/7 with my two beautiful children for 14 days, 18 hours and 36 minutes has been very difficult.
This pill is even more difficult to swallow because I know how bloody lucky I am to have them. When Bethan was a couple of days old fighting for her life in an incubator my mum said to me, "She's strong; you're going to be nose to nose with her". I was hysterical saying that even thinking such a thing was too much because she could die at any moment.
As ever, m'mam was right. Bethan is strong; not just physically but also strong of mind.
As I was on my knees on one of our daily sojourns to the naughty step this week, I looked up into Beth's water-filled blue eyes and her mottled face from the amount of frustrated crying and had a very vivid flashback of sitting beside that incubator and having that conversation with my mum. It was at that moment after looking at Beth and then James did I realise that I'd hit a wall and needed some 'out time'. Following this epiphany I've had many sleepless, guilt-infested nights culminated in the following assertion: I can't justify why I need to work; it just feels like the right thing to do.
Mind you, once I'd come to terms with this 'feeling' (for now at least), chez Hillier has been back to its completely mad and frantic self today.
Desperate not to miss our first swimming lesson after the holidays, I started getting us all ready quite early this morning. It came as no surprise that we were still stuck in traffic 5 minutes before the lesson was supposed to start (Note to self: Put a brown paper bag in the glove compartment. This will help with 'why are we on the drag again?' hyperventilating). Once parked, we went rushing into the private building where the pool is, started to frantically get ready until,
"Liz, why are we the only ones here?"
I turned to Rob and went,
"Oh crap!"
Oh yes; I'd got the wrong pool on the wrong week. Many apologies to the residents of Cardinal Lofts in Ipswich. We saw the security camera whilst swimming alone in your pool but what is an Alpha Mum to do when you're dressed for the party and have nowhere to go?
Saturday 6th April
3am this morning
That's it! Finally! I've remembered what I wanted to blog
about the other night...stolen buggies!
Unfortunately this illuminating thought happened in the
middle of the night, but still! It's like when you're trying to remember the
name of that 1985 record at the local pub quiz when suddenly, a few nights after
the quiz has finished, you're fast asleep and you dart upright and shout,
"Agadoo!". This is also the moment when the person lay beside you has
a heart attack with fright at the thought that Black Lace might be in the room.
Yes, that was it, stolen buggies. I recently came
across this article from my MEN (Manchester Evening News) app with the
following headline: Greater Manchester a hotspot for 'posh
pushchair' thefts and that, coupled with the fact I dared to open
the door to the downstairs toilet (which is at present being held up by a number of buggies) got me thinking about the issues surrounding pushchairs; stolen or otherwise.
Within the article there was a sense of buggy or pram 'envy' as it is known. Whilst interviewing people from around the Cheshire area, the parents immediately listed the name of their buggy and it's value. At least one of the mother's did make reference to their child being their most precious thing. Whereas another mother seemed more concerned that the potential theft of her pram would be "a big blow" to her. A big blow to you? What about the poor beggar sat in the pram???
Within the article, I was surprised that there was no mention of people stealing the
Bill and Ted buggy.This is a very expensive twin buggy where the baby is on some parcel shelf next to the floor and the toddler is sat in the chair above them.
About 14 months ago we thought we might invest in one. I was 8 months pregnant with James and I knew that Bethan couldn't be trusted on a) a buggy board or b) to hold onto the pram. A double buggy would be just the job but they are so wide you would need to work, shop and live in a barn to get them through doors.
So we trundled into a major mothering superstore in Ipswich to just see how close to the pavement your newborn baby would actually be (it turned out to be very close). When we asked to see another model of the Bill and Ted buggy they said to us as if it was the most normal thing in the world, "Sorry, no can do, it was stolen earlier today". We were like, "When? How? What?" to which they replied "Yeah, somebody must have walked in and just pushed it out" !!!! PUSHED IT OUT! There are no words.
Actually, there are.
It just shows that it is not only the Mancs who appreciate the value of a good buggy; those from Sleepy Suffolk also like to get in on the act.
There is one way to get around this incredibly difficult dilemma; you could use a wheelbarrow to push your child around in. Nobody would want to steal one of those; additionally, think of all of the other stuff you could get in there. These 'posh pushcairs' might be fancy and expensive but where the hell can you put any of your shopping?
Thursday 7th February 2013
The dreaded lurgy has hit chez Hillier again - we keep passing it to each other like a stick of dynamite as if to say, "I don't want it, have it back!". No voices have been lost this time but the four of us sound like we've smoked 20 Woodbines in one sitting.
Running out of ideas fast as to how to create damage limitation so that we can break the lurgy cycle. At this point in time, we will try anything as we have already gone through the staples such as: Calpol, Calbufren, Junior Olbas Oil, Hot Toddies (for the adults), Vicks, Karvol (capsules and plug-in), Calpol Plug-In, Steamy bath, ginger...the list is endless. I relented and looked to see what other Alpha Mum's are doing on an Alpha-Type Mum website and among the whole range of remedies, herbal and pharmaceutical, somebody mentioned a Humidifier. We are so desperate that we feel we have already become share-holders in the respective children's medicine companies, so we have forked out 80 quid (please don't laugh) on what can only be described as a big tank of cold water that then lets out cold air. They do provide you with a medicated pad to put in but they only last 8 hours. We have searched high and low for refills but they are all bloody sold out! This makes me feel a little bit better as I know I'm not the only person who has resorted to buying a cold water tank for £80 to help us all breathe a little better.
When I told my mum our latest plan she said, 'Oooo, I'd love one of them!".
"Really?", I asked puzzled as the 1930's house I was brought up in has plenty of air in it as opposed to this 2013 Barratts House that is so well insulated I understand how a beef joint must feel when it's in the oven. We are the only house on the estate that insists on having the windows open in the Winter.
"Oh yes", she replied, "Carol the Cleaner, from the Club, has one and she says it's magic".
"Oh that sounds positive", suddenly I am not feeling so stupid at our purchase.
"Yeah, she says it's fantastic for drying your washing".
Suddenly the misty veil that has been this conversation lifts.
"I think you mean a de-humidifier mam" I tell her.
"What's the difference?" she asks, shocked.
"Well one puts cold air in the room to help you breathe and the other helps to get rid of the condensation in your bay window".
"Well I never" she says "You learn something everyday".
To be fair, I said this as if I had always known the difference when actually I had no idea until I Googled it prior to reserving it on Argos.
Only time will tell if this humidifier has been worth it but for the moment we are sharing it as there is no way we could afford to have one in every room. We have to ascertain each day which of the four of us is feeling the crappest and that bedroom gets to keep it.
____________________________________
Question to self, "Why do I insist on sterilising everything when I found the door stop to the lounge in James' mouth today as well as him crawling and then falling onto the cat's tail?".
Running out of ideas fast as to how to create damage limitation so that we can break the lurgy cycle. At this point in time, we will try anything as we have already gone through the staples such as: Calpol, Calbufren, Junior Olbas Oil, Hot Toddies (for the adults), Vicks, Karvol (capsules and plug-in), Calpol Plug-In, Steamy bath, ginger...the list is endless. I relented and looked to see what other Alpha Mum's are doing on an Alpha-Type Mum website and among the whole range of remedies, herbal and pharmaceutical, somebody mentioned a Humidifier. We are so desperate that we feel we have already become share-holders in the respective children's medicine companies, so we have forked out 80 quid (please don't laugh) on what can only be described as a big tank of cold water that then lets out cold air. They do provide you with a medicated pad to put in but they only last 8 hours. We have searched high and low for refills but they are all bloody sold out! This makes me feel a little bit better as I know I'm not the only person who has resorted to buying a cold water tank for £80 to help us all breathe a little better.
When I told my mum our latest plan she said, 'Oooo, I'd love one of them!".
"Really?", I asked puzzled as the 1930's house I was brought up in has plenty of air in it as opposed to this 2013 Barratts House that is so well insulated I understand how a beef joint must feel when it's in the oven. We are the only house on the estate that insists on having the windows open in the Winter.
"Oh yes", she replied, "Carol the Cleaner, from the Club, has one and she says it's magic".
"Oh that sounds positive", suddenly I am not feeling so stupid at our purchase.
"Yeah, she says it's fantastic for drying your washing".
Suddenly the misty veil that has been this conversation lifts.
"I think you mean a de-humidifier mam" I tell her.
"What's the difference?" she asks, shocked.
"Well one puts cold air in the room to help you breathe and the other helps to get rid of the condensation in your bay window".
"Well I never" she says "You learn something everyday".
To be fair, I said this as if I had always known the difference when actually I had no idea until I Googled it prior to reserving it on Argos.
Only time will tell if this humidifier has been worth it but for the moment we are sharing it as there is no way we could afford to have one in every room. We have to ascertain each day which of the four of us is feeling the crappest and that bedroom gets to keep it.
____________________________________
Question to self, "Why do I insist on sterilising everything when I found the door stop to the lounge in James' mouth today as well as him crawling and then falling onto the cat's tail?".
Sunday 2nd February 2013
They came, they saw, they celebrated and they went...back to the North West.
For the first time in three years Rob and I celebrated, guilt-free the birth of our amazing daughter and the Christening of our beautiful son; surrounded by a family that have been unfailing in their support to us and friends who have picked us up when we hit rock bottom.
You know you've either had an amazing weekend or a crap weekend when you wake up and your eye makeup makes you look like Alice Cooper.
Fortunately for me it was the former. I don't often put on a bit of slap; funnily enough it's not a priority for me in the mornings when I'm up to my neck in baby poo and a toddler's snotty nose. I feel like I'm doing the world a favour if I'm out of my pj's by noon.
But it felt fantastic to get my hair done, dust down the Clarins (side-thought: I'm sure I read somewhere that make-up goes out-of-date. If that is the case then my skin is up shit creak without a paddle) and dress up with my family.
It's amazing watching how your baby develops in such a short space of time too. Surrounded by his friends and cousins, James just blossomed. He will definitely give Bethan a run for her money in a few months.
My American friend said that watching a baby develop is compelling because it's like watching a science experiment unfolding. I agree, watching my children develop is as fascinating as it is wonderful. And like a science experiment, you're never quite sure what the results will be but it's damn exciting, shrouded in tentative moments and can be very funny.
After lots of attention and interaction this weekend, James has gone from rolling around like an Olympic gymnast on the floor to a confident little crawler.
He keeps trying to get through the curtains like those people who were on 'Stars in their Eyes' and said "Tonight Matthew, I'm going to be..." except that he hasn't actually managed to get through to the other side to the dried ice and music. However, it's only a matter of time before he appears as Neil Diamond.
In the meantime James continues to wrap himself up in the curtains, terrorise the cat and build up the courage to crawl to his Everest: the front door. I'm just really pleased that A&E is five minutes around the corner.
For the first time in three years Rob and I celebrated, guilt-free the birth of our amazing daughter and the Christening of our beautiful son; surrounded by a family that have been unfailing in their support to us and friends who have picked us up when we hit rock bottom.
You know you've either had an amazing weekend or a crap weekend when you wake up and your eye makeup makes you look like Alice Cooper.
Fortunately for me it was the former. I don't often put on a bit of slap; funnily enough it's not a priority for me in the mornings when I'm up to my neck in baby poo and a toddler's snotty nose. I feel like I'm doing the world a favour if I'm out of my pj's by noon.
But it felt fantastic to get my hair done, dust down the Clarins (side-thought: I'm sure I read somewhere that make-up goes out-of-date. If that is the case then my skin is up shit creak without a paddle) and dress up with my family.
It's amazing watching how your baby develops in such a short space of time too. Surrounded by his friends and cousins, James just blossomed. He will definitely give Bethan a run for her money in a few months.
My American friend said that watching a baby develop is compelling because it's like watching a science experiment unfolding. I agree, watching my children develop is as fascinating as it is wonderful. And like a science experiment, you're never quite sure what the results will be but it's damn exciting, shrouded in tentative moments and can be very funny.
After lots of attention and interaction this weekend, James has gone from rolling around like an Olympic gymnast on the floor to a confident little crawler.
He keeps trying to get through the curtains like those people who were on 'Stars in their Eyes' and said "Tonight Matthew, I'm going to be..." except that he hasn't actually managed to get through to the other side to the dried ice and music. However, it's only a matter of time before he appears as Neil Diamond.
In the meantime James continues to wrap himself up in the curtains, terrorise the cat and build up the courage to crawl to his Everest: the front door. I'm just really pleased that A&E is five minutes around the corner.
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