Before I had a baby, the main contact I had with children was vicariously through the clones of child obsessed mothers at work.

These clones of child obsessed mothers have only one topic of conversation ... their children.  From the minute they conceive a little switch flips in their head that blocks out all other thoughts but that of the child and pregnancy.

Husbands and boyfriends turn into annoyances who serve no purpose other than to be a hindrance and are constantly complained about for "not helping out", "not understanding their needs" or heaven forbid "wanting sex!"

Any conversation about the evening or weekend turns into a list of achievements for their little darlings at ballet, football or school, or showing off about  how many parties they have attended.

New recruits come in the form of unsuspecting expectant mothers who proudly announce their joyful news.  The clones of child obsessed mothers flock round the victim to turn them into a clone as quickly as they can. The victim is bamboozled with a series of questions ...

How many weeks are you?
When are you due?
Was it planned?
How long were you trying?

The victim (soon to be cloned into a child obsessed mother) can not help but be flattered by the attention, and enjoy being a membed of this popular club.  It is easy to get sucked in as an expectant mother.  So much is happening to your body, life will never be the same again, it is good to have someone to talk to who has been through if before.

Some dads form their own child obsessed fathers club.  I overheard one last week showing off to an expectant father about the performance of his newborns poo.  He enthusiastically explained about the contence of his sons nappy from birth to present age of 6 months, including how the nappies leak, and how far up the babies back the poo travels.

These conversations are facinating for parents, however mean nothing to single folk, and must be depressing for anyone desperate for a baby but not fortunate to have one.

I try hard to resist the charms of the child obsessed mothers, doing my best to remember what it was like before i became a clone.  I don't want every conversation i have to be about Little E.  I am more than just a mother, i have a social life, a fabulous boyfriend, hobbies and crazy neighbours to talk about.

I would love to pretend that i am the perfect role model of a working mother, however i fail most days.  Sometimes all i want to do is talk about Little E, what he said, what he ate, i even read out texts from the childminder telling me how long he slept for and if he snored!  I make excuses to myself that it is not my fault.  People should be honest and tell me i'm boring, but they don't.  I get encouraging noises and requests to bring Little E  into work to meet everyone.

Maybe it is time i was honest with myself, and admitted that i am a fully fledged signed up member of the group of child obsessed mothers, however i think i i will resist just a little bit longer if i can and keep living the lie.

The Daddy showed Little E how to wee wee standing up yesterday.  We have been encouraging Little E to wee wee on his potty for some weeks.  Little E always seems very enthusiastic, runs and mounts his potty as though it were a horse, sits down for no more than 2 seconds and then runs off to wee wee on the floor.

 

Little E's reaction to the Daddy wee wee standing up demonstration was "wa-owww!!!" followed by lots of laughing.

 

This gave us some hope that Little E now understood what he should be doing and would enjoy sitting on his potty to wee wee.

 

The next night, in the bathroom.  Little E was ready to get out of the bath. 

 

The Mummy ... "Little E would you like to get out of the bath and do a wee wee on your potty?"

 

Little E, climbing out of the bath with great effort ... "Yeh. Yeh. Wee wee"

 

The Mummy helped Little E out of the bath.

Little E ran over to the Potty, mounted it, sat for 2 seconds.  Stood up, moved less than one foot.  Grabbed his willy saying "wee wee" and wee'd on the floor!

 

Little E seemed so pleased with himself, he tried to do more wee wee.  By the time his bladder was empty the Mummy had 2 puddles to clean up, and Little E was quickly dunked in the bath with the Daddy for a final once over.

 

The Daddy ... "Little E did you do a wee wee on the floor?"

Little E ... "Yes, dhat" (Pointing to the puddles, very proud of himself)

The Daddy ... "Very good, however try in the potty next time"

Little E ... "Yes, wee wee dhat"

 

In order to prevent too many more puddles on the floor I suggested that the Daddy should do another demonstration of wee wee, only this time wee wee into the potty.  The Daddy was not too impressed with this, saying it would be too weird.  I think he may be right!

 

 

The best Mummy moments are made of this ...

Hot sunny weather.
Driving with the windows down.
Listening to Little E giggling in the back as the wind blows the magazine he's holding up and down, to and fro.

Last night Little E stayed up late partying in his cot.  Over the monitor we heard lots of singing ("ba ba black sheep" and "Twinkle twinkle"), chatting ("where's teddy gone?","What is that?"), Animal noises, and bouncing.  I was impressed that he is so able to bounce so much in his gro-bag, however we did hear the occasional bang as he crashed against the side of the cot.

 

All was revealed this morning, when I went to wake him up only to find him looking rather pleased with himself, holding his toe-toes and telling me that he had undone the zip himself!  The conversation went a little like this ...

 

The Mummy ... "did you undo the zip all by yourself?"

Little E ... "Yes, zip zip"

The Mummy ... "Clever Boy"

 

Aside from being impressed as any Mummy is when their baby does something for the first time, I was also filled with the realisation that this was the beginning of the end.

 

The beginning of the end of quite adult filled evenings, whilst Little E is happy to play in his cot for up to an hour before falling asleep.

 

The beginning of the end of undisturbed, sleep filled nights.

 

Soon Little E will have mastered the art of removing the gro-bag, climbed out of his cot, opened his bedroom door (something he has been able to do for several months), and get up to lots of mischief.

 

I confided in the childminder, partly to show off how clever Little E is, and partly to see what advise she gave.  The baby brain must be very deep routed, cause she stated the blindingly obvious that she always hides the zipper puller behind the safety popper.  A function on the gro-bag that is designed to prevent the very occurrence I was worried about.

 

So tonight, I will show Little E that the Mummy will tuck the zip away, and we will have no more escaping (fingers crossed)!!!

My Fabulous boyfriend interrupted my hair washing in the shower this morning.  Sadly not for anything naughty but to thoughtfully enquire how my eradication of the unwelcome guests were going.

I found 2 dead ones, and 2 possible lice or bits of dead skin.

I think the romance may  have died along with the lice!

They're back!

I washed my hair this morning and used the fine nit finding comb to see if my paranoia was valid.  I was not sure how successful it would be as the tiney tiny comb had been bent out of shape by little E.  From the look of the irregular gaps between the combs little E had been using it to floss!

After my best attempt to restore the comb to an almost perfect state the results were clear ... the little critters were back!

My  hair is a jungle where nits can hide and avoid detection.  The comb revealed two little lice, so i'm on for another  steamy  night of more killer nit lotion and scraping my scalp with a tiny bent comb.  Talk about mood killer!

I have the itchy scratchy paranoia.  I don't want to mention it to anyone at work incase they brand me a dirty lice carrier.

I am growing more suspicious that the critters are back as all the itching is in one place.  My Fabulous boyfriend has had a quick look in my jungle of hair and thinks it must be my scalp reacting to the tea tree shampoo.

I shall have to wait til morning to see what the nit comb reveals!

I would rather eat my words!

I used to think (or hope) that once you gave birth you were bestowed with the natural ability to bake.

I remember a wonderful childhood filled with the scent of freshly made bread, home made christmas cakes, cookies, victoria sponges and home made bakewell tarts.  My Mummy is not the best chef (anything beyond scrambled eggs is a no go zone) but seemed to be great at baking us goodies when we were children.

Sadely, something went wrong during the birth of Little E, any small tallent i had for baking (and there was not much) simply disappeared.

Recently one weekend  morning while Little E took his nap I took the time to make him some banana muffins. Rather than restore my faith in home baking, the experience has become the final nail in the coffin of my baking career.

Little E's first reaction was curiosity  at what the little coloured cases contained, grabbing one and nibbling the top saying "mmm yum".  It turns out he was just humouring the Mummy as seconds later he was spitting it out!

I once read it can  up to 7 tries for a baby to eat new food.  Armed with this knowledge I tried giving Little E another muffin the next night. Little E was not messing this time.  He enthusiastically tore the muffin in half, raised his arm and threw the muffin at the Mummy!

Message received loud and clear, it is game over on the baking front!

Adventures at the childminder

Text conversation with the childminder ...

Childminder " Ah well done again to Little E. He's eaten all his lunch, all his yoghurt and drank all his milk!

He's such a gud boy! Well apart from when we were chatting about his yoghurt and I asked "do u think mummy or daddy bought this yoghurt for u" to which he replied (afta a little think) "daddy".

such a traitor! Lol!"

The Mummy " Oh dear i must have words with him about that! The mummy most definitely bought the yogurt.  I also  gave him some  In the Night Garden pasta for his tea last night which he thought was amazing ... It is a thankless job!" 

Head lice!

Burn all the towels, paint a  big red cross on the door, shave our heads, we have lice!

The childminder called me at work.  This is most unusual and only reserved for an emergency.  The conversation went a little something like this ...

Childminder " little E is ok don't worry, but he's got head lice"

The Mummy "  oh no! I'm guessing those two little flies I picked out of his hair yesterday were not actually flies"

Childminder " er i guess not! Don't worry though, I will get rid of them all, and pick out any eggs, little E loves people playing with his hair.  He goes into a little trance"

The Mummy " that is so kind, are you sure it's ok?"

Childminder " of course, but you have to check yourself tonight and ensure both you and the daddy are clear, i will put a comb in the bag for you"

What would i do without my amazing childminder?

I came home from word to find the daddy and little E in the bath, with the daddy already scraping his head with the little comb closely inspecting it for our little friends.  The daddy was given the all clear, with nothing found.  The mummy was not so fortunate!

With little E tucked up in bed the daddy started the mamouth task of inspecting my hair ... it was not long before he found one ... eugh ... disgusting!  A few moments later and a second one was dragged out by the comb ... STOP! I'm not sitting here all night, this could  take hours ... I'm off to Mr tesco.

20 minutes later and i was back home armed with all the teatree products i could carry, and a lice killing lotion free from pesticide.  After doucing and more combing we went to bed waiting for the lotion to work it's magic.

Baby brain incident no. 4

Bank holiday monday. We met some friends for an impromptu pub lunch (always the best kind). We ordered little e some fish goujons, beans and chips.

Little e loves baked beans at the moment, tucking into them with his hands, spilling juice down his top (bibs rarely feature at impromptue luncheons), occasionally using a fork when he wants to copy the older kids.

As we ate, we caught up on what the kids were doing. My friend told me how her 7year old was learning about animals and has a fab book full of animals with information about them. My friend was very proud to have taught her daughter how to determine if an animal is a mammal or not.

When we'd finished eating the daddy asked "has little e eaten any of the fish?"
The mummy answered "he had lots of beans, a few chips, but i think the most fish he's eaten is that toy penguin he's chewing on"
The daddy paused for a moment then smiling said "Yeh, only penguins are not actually fish"

Mmmm i thought, maybe i need a copy of that book!

Baby Brain Moment No.3

"The time has come to say good night
To say good night till the morning light
The time has come to say good night
It's the end of a lovely day

We've had so much fun today
Tomorrows just a dream away
The time has come to say good night
It's the end of a lovely day"

Makes me cry every time I sing it!
The baby brain is alive and here to stay

Wise words from little e

Haa Hoo

Baby Brain Moment No.2

I filled the car up with diesel, no worries here, it is a diesel car.
Used the pay at pump option.
Remembering I was planning a business trip within the next week.
Pressed the "print receipt" button to obtain a receipt so I could claim back expenses.
No receipt.
Pressed the "print receipt" button for the second time ... No receipt.
Decided to give up and go home. I will have to claim without a receipt.

At home, a few hours later, my Fabulous Boyfriend commented that the petrol cap on my car was open, and I needed to check that some gypo had not come along and syphoned off my fuel.

Open? How did that happen? Turns out I was so focused on printing a receipt I had forgotten to shut the petrol cap. I then drove home, parked, locked the car. Walked past the petrol cap, and still did not notice it was open.

My Fabulous Boyfriend just shook his head and tutted ... "I don't know how you do it" he said.
"Neither do I" I responded.

St george's day

The pub up the road is having a party. The daddy took little e out on his smart-trike to have a look when they got home this evening. Little e thought it looked so good he cried when the daddy would not let him play on the bouncy castle.

Anyway, it's 5hours later and gone 11 o'clock. The live band is still playing loud enough to drown out my i-pod pillow and i'm wondering how to get to sleep.

My fabulous boyfriend pointed out they must be playing british music tonight.
"english you mean" i said,
"you would have thought so on st georges day, but i definitely heard them playing the steriophonics earlier" he commented.
"so much for a quiet village location"

Once you are in ... you are in!

I went for my pneumonia vaccination on Tuesday. I started phoning the doctors in March to book the appointment for the beginning of April only be bombarded with questions and comments from the receptionist like

"there is no such thing as a pneumonia booster!"
"have you had one before? When?"
"why do you need that?"
"who told you that you needed it?"

I don't know why, but for some reason the doctors receptionist has the ability to make me lose the ability to speak in audible sentences, and most of the time reduces me to tears over the phone within 5 minutes.

Fortunately the 3 times I tried to book the appointment and failed I was feeling on top form, was not hormonal, so did not come across as a blubbering wreak. I was however shocked into dumbfoundedness by the audacity of someone who is not medically trained that tries to tell ME that I do not need a vaccination that I have been having for the last 15 years, and that someone who had been training for over 20years in the medical profession told me I needed. Even a quick search on wikipedia (and we all know how accurate that is) will tell you that I need it!

So this week, I found myself opposite the nurse, who, rather than give me the required vaccination took one look at me, telephoned the receptionist and demanded I was immediately referred to see the GP. Turns out the little cough I've had for the last 10 days is a chest infection. I have already taken one course of antibiotics, which clearly did not work, so I am starting my second set of antibiotics in 2 weeks! Oh the joys of having a compromised immunity!

So no pneumonia vaccination after all .... however it would appear that once you get to see the doctor (hard as it may be), you are placed in better favour with the receptionists. I had no trouble booking my return visit next week, and I was able to secure a time convenient to me. No stress, no questioning, no doubting my need for medical attention.

It may be hard to get an appointment to see the GP or nurse, but it turns out once you are in ... you are in.

Cuddle

Little E sure is a charmer at 16 1/2 months. On Monday he said the word "cuddle" for the very first time. He pulled at my heart strings as he walked over to me looking sad saying "cuddle" with his arms reaching up towards me. He had just trodden on his cousin for the countless time and made her cry (again for the countless time). Suddenly he realised he had done something to upset her, so he came over to the Mummy for comfort.

A few days later and he has already calculated the power of the "cuddle". Tonight, whilst he was half way through his night time bottle of milk, in front of his Bonne Maman and Great Aunty from Paris visiting for a few days, he stopped, lent over Great Aunt Paris reaching out his arms to me saying "cuddle". Of course I lent across Great Aunt Paris from the other side and we had our special moment (while squashed Great Aunt Paris offered to move). Little E then finished his bottle, had giggles and tickles with the Daddy, before once again asking for more "cuddle" from the Mummy.

Little E insisted on more "cuddle" with the Mummy, until the Daddy prized him away to give night night kisses all round before retiring to his bed to play with his toys before finally falling asleep about 8.30pm!

Sooooo majorly cute. Little E knows how to work his magic on the Mummy!

Attack of the foam letters

Wednesday April 7th

Yesterday I called in sick. This was not a great move after the Easter Bank holiday week, and I know it will be logged as suspicious on HR files, however I did not have much choice after waking up with a temperature of 38 with a full on fever, feeling sick, a cough to rival a 40 a day smoker and a banging head. My attempt to take some pain relief and antibiotics failed as I promptly threw up (thank goodness for the bucket next to the bed ... I felt nauseous when I went to bed the previous night).

After a whole morning snoozing in bed, I dragged myself downstairs to the sofa to spend the rest of the day snoozing to the fabulous "High Society" and then in contrast a very poor Five US film about a woman who discovered her husband had been living a double life after going AWOL for the past 5 years. Oh the joy of daytime movies!

I was trying to summoned the strength to driven the 2 miles to collect Little E from the childminders. I had already texted my Fabulous Boyfriend to tell him I would collect Little E if he could leave work on time so he could be home early to give Little E some tea. I was not yet ready to sit upright, let alone handle food after the morning incident of sickness! Whilst I was psyching myself up for the short drive, my mobile rang. My childminder was calling to tell me that she would drive my Little E home for me, the offer was so generous and thoughtful, and I was so emotional after feeling so poorly all day I shed a tear (or two). I can not believe how lucky we are to have found such a great childminder. She constantly goes out of her way to care for Little E, to keep him happy, and never complains that we are constantly late picking him up.

After a long day of feeling shockingly poorly, Little E never fails to cheer me up. He refused to go for his bath without me, so I dragged myself upstairs, tidied his room quickly and prepared it for his night night time. While Little E was enjoying fun in the bath with his Daddy my Fabulous Boyfriend I lay on the bathroom floor resting. Once Little E noticed I was there, a little hand shot up, followed my a little scream and a bombardment of foam letters. I was under attack. As fast as I could throw them back, more wet letters kept coming, occasionally followed by a little head bobbing up to check his aim, but always followed by a little scream. By the time Little E had finished his fun, I was pretty well soaked!!

Afterward my Fabulous Boyfriend made me some egg fried rice for dinner (my first meal of the day, which stayed down), and we went to bed for more snoozing.

What happens when u ask a toddler a question?

Little e is getting very skilled at his language. He as starting to repeat words and answer questions.

This weekend, instead of asking little e wait a cow says or what a dog says, we thought it would be amusing to ask him what mummy or daddy say.

The conversation went a little like this ...

mummy : little e, what does mummy say?
little e: moo
mummy :what does daddy say?
little e: ooh ooh ah ah
mummy : and what does little e say?
little e : ooh ooh ah ah

whilst i am obviously proud and slightly in awe that little e know that mummy is different from daddy, and that little e is the same as daddy (i.e. They are both boys and i am not), i'm not sure how to take being the cow in the relationship!