Starting School

Starting School

Husband freaked us both out this week. One of the nursery girls asked him where Girly no1 would be starting school and if he had added it to the list so he could organise some play dates (she obviously doesn’t know him very well). He ran home in a panic-stricken flurry. “Where’s she starting school? When? Have we applied? Why didn’t you talk to me about it? The list! We need to add her to the list!”…

I laughed affectionately as he counted the months on his fingers. He confirmed with me that she started when she was 4 and that the school term starts in September. His face was flooded with relief as he realised we hadn’t missed anything. Being a September baby, she doesn’t start school til next year, a full 18 months away. I briefly asked myself whether he thought I was that bad I would miss something so monstrous. Does he not know how anxious I am about her starting school?! Starting school sucks! It’s the worst! We still have a year a half, but already it makes me feel a bit nauseous.

Big Baby

Parents of older children will laugh at me for this. Parents of younger children will (mostly) nod in sympathy. My mum will cover her face and laugh. She will laugh because I hated starting school. Hated it with a passion. And I hated every September starting a new class.

I especially hated having a new teacher in a new room and new people. In fact, the only thing I liked was the new books, especially in senior school when we got to cover them in sticky back plastic. That played perfectly to my slightly autistic need for perfection. I go into a trance-like state of admiration in the library if I come a across a neatly covered book with no bubbles, a smooth plane and perfectly folded corners. (I’m such a weirdo, I probably shouldn’t share this stuff).

The night before going back to school after a long hot summer I would cry all night. In my teenage years, the tears were replaced with a face of thunder, grunts and lots of stomping (more than usual). I struggled to shake it off as an adult. I would get that same ‘back to school’ feeling most Sunday evenings and every time I returned from holiday. If I happened to have PMT on my first day back I would definitely cry as I left the house. Yes! I am the personification of what you would call “a big baby”. It’s probably why I’m so happy now I don’t have to go to work on a Monday morning. Just to my sofa! No more back to school feeling (virtual high fives with myself).

The Lunchbox

My first few years of school were nothing less than traumatic for my poor Mum. After prising me away from her leg and ‘jollying me along’ into class she would go back to the car to cry into the steering wheel because I had sobbed since waking up. Clock watching until an acceptable amount of time had passed, she would call and check how I was. Inevitably I was fine. Well, almost fine. One time I was still in tears because I had missed my snack at break time as I couldn’t open my new lunchbox. Cue many future years of making me practice opening my lunchbox every day for two weeks before going back to school. This story story can still make my Mum cry if you catch her on a bad day now.

My own memories must not rub off on Girly no1. I’ll do everything I can to not let this happen. But I also know that she is a carbon copy of me. She is very sensitive and any ruffling of her feathers results in tears first, other feelings afterwards. Yesterday she cried for 25 minutes because her hair band broke (it was from Poundland, I don’t know what she expected). The week before she moaned for a whole day about why her best friend didn’t want to kiss her goodbye (she wants to marry this friend but I’m not sure her family are as open to lesbianism as we are). It took her 6 months to settle into nursery, then it has taken a good couple of months to settle each time she has changed groups (you know, moving from one side of the room to the other…having to climb an extra set of stairs…big changes).  She’s not great with change.

Ow, My Heart

I didn’t used to like change either, though strangely now I fall into the early adopter category. I quite like change and am willing to give most things a go. This may be all my years of project management. That doesn’t help me with Girly no1 though, whose worries, reactions and concerns feel like physical pain in my heart.

It’s my job to help her through this though. There have been times in my life when I have questioned Mum’s ‘meanness’ to me when I was little – her constant reiteration of “you need to toughen up” and “just stop crying and get on with it” – but now I’m in the thick of things with my own offspring, this is what I need to do more of. Tough love. It’s probably what has led me to being a fairly robust adult. Without it, I wonder whether I would I have competed in tennis tournaments to jeers from mean girls from school. Would I have been able to hold my own in a boardroom of much older men? Would I ever have started Making Little People or That Works For Me? I doubt it.

Starting School….next year

This doesn’t help me with Girly no1 starting school though. I’m already planning – manically planning. How I can make this transition easier? We will talk about it lots. Buy an easy to open lunchbox. Meet lots of people in her class. Go there lots so she starts to feel comfortable. I wonder if we could invite her teacher to tea…..(jokes). (Kind of). I know that everyone goes through it and I won’t be the only stressing about it, I may be the only one stressing about it 18 months ahead of time though! Whichever way it goes I’m sure I will be that Mum weeping first in her car and then again at home on the sofa. Someone in this house needs to keep the back-to-school mantle burning!

Thanks for reading all the way to the end! And thank you so much to everyone for your kind words on my last post, The Miscarriage Rollercoaster. We are much, much better and as you see I have found a new thing to cry over! Believe it or not I’m actually quite a happy and chilled person, hard to get that from this blog isn’t it?! I always love your likes and shares so please do the honours if you have enjoyed. Until next time amigos!

THINGS YOU MIGHT FEEL IN THE FIRST YEAR

THINGS YOU MIGHT FEEL IN THE FIRST YEAR

This list is Things You Might Feel in the First Year. You might not feel them but I sure did. 

5 mins post delivery: Elation, disbelief and tears. Shit. A human just came out of me. Did anyone else see that?! Other than the 45 people that were in here at the time?
30 mins: Exhaustion, awe and gooey mushiness. Look at it. Just look at it. Wow.

3 hours: Disbelief. Slight concern that Baby won’t be quiet and I don’t know how to look after it. Where’s the thing you press to call the midwife? Can she come home with us? Feed it more. Pain killers wearing off, down below feeling a little bruised.

6 hours: Uncomfortable. Fanny and arse on fire, can’t sit down. Shifting uncomfortably from left bum cheek to right helps. Want to go home.

12 hours: Drained but excited. Babies in ward waking up constantly. Mine slept, I got 5 hours! I’ve got this Mum shit down! Can’t wait to get home.

12.5 hours: Embarrassed. Just been told off for not waking Baby up every 3 hours. How was I supposed to know?!

1 day: Impatient. Still waiting for going home papers. Still can’t sit down.

1.5 days: Panicked. Just had midwife spiel on all the things you should and shouldn’t do, the appointments you have to make, the legal requirements you’re supposed to remember. What have I done? Who thought this was a good idea? Lower half of body in excruciating pain after jumping up to gather leaflets in eagerness to demonstrate how good a mother I’m going to be.

1.7 days: Delighted. Walking (shuffling) through the double doors out of the hospital with sleepy little baby. This is going to be marvellous!

1.75 days: Sluggish. Wondering who drove a bus into your vagina and whether you’ll tick over to 24 hours parking since that’s how long this 200m walk to the car is going to take.

1.8 days: Overjoyed. Home! Back into gooey mushiness and gazing wonderment, especially as all it does is sleep! I love it!

2 days: Terrified. What the fuck? Who let me bring this thing home? I don’t know how to look after a child! Why does it keep making that noise? Oh….the Baby has gone green. It’s covered in poo. That’s ok. I can handle poo even if it does go from ears to toes. Cleaning is fine. Pretend it’s a dirty frying pan. What’s next? Don’t worry about what’s next. One thing at a time. Deal with the shit.

3 days: Worried. Unable to remember the last time I closed my eyes and that high pitched wail didn’t pierce my ear drum. Arse and fanny swollen to the size of a house. Just want to sleep for 12 hours like before it got here.

4 days: Tearful. Boobs swollen to watermelons. Wondering when I might not feel like I’ve been run over by a bus forwards, backwards and forwards again.

5 days: Mortified and Irritated. Wet patches on my top. Milk keeps seeping through in front of my father in law. Sick of the smell of flowers, they keep making me sneeze. Baby sleeps on all visitors then does nothing but wail for me. Go away! It’s my Baby!

One week: Annoyed. Thought “sleeping like a baby” was a thing?

Two weeks: Shit! Got a cold. Fanny stinging constantly and only relieved when crab walking naked round house. Found all the leaflets from the midwife and haven’t done any of it. So, so tired. And Husband is a dick.

Three weeks: Amazed. 4 consecutive hours sleep last night! New. Woman. Still feel like eyeballs have been sandpapered but can survive on this. Only 40 minutes late to friends house today. Winning! Bits are itchy but bearable. Love Husband, he’s so great.

3.1 weeks: Disappointed. Aaaaargh! Must have been a one off. Back to 3 90 minute blocks of sleep. Why hasn’t stupid Husband got boobs?! Think I might die of sleep deprivation. Cuddled the checkout boy in Tescos by accident. Call mum begging for her to take the Baby away. Call back 10 minutes later to cancel, guilt set in. Such a bad Mother. Didn’t mean it. Promise. Missed doctors appointment altogether as caught in a poo-eat-sick spiral. Begged for new appointment. Fanny relief came in the form of a cream. Why didn’t they send me away from the hospital with this?!

4 weeks. Defeated. Can’t take this. Babies shouldn’t have such stupidly small stomachs. Whose idea was it to have a baby anyway?

5 weeks: Elated! Baby smiled! Love it so much! It’s so cute, look at this!

6 weeks: Hopeful. Black clouds are clearing. Last 3 nights had 2 lots of 4 consecutive hours’ sleep. That smile…

6.5 weeks: Delirious. Doctor talked about sex at 6 week check. Laughed all the way home. Then cried when saw Husband. Please don’t run away with Hot Receptionist with her stupid in-tact fanny.

Things you feel in the first year

8 weeks: Furious. Why the fuck are you stabbing my baby with all these diseases? I’m not coming back for the next set of immunisations, this is ridiculous.

9 weeks: Ashamed. Tried that thing the doctor said about. Fanny is a cave. It will never be the same again. Cried during sex. Husband will never touch me again. Just take him Hot Receptionist…

11 weeks: Satisfied. Tried “it” again in spare bedroom after Baby fell asleep on our bed. It was ok. Bit like being 16, but ok. Will leave handcuffs and lingerie in the drawer for a while longer yet.

3 months: Knowledgable. Researched immunisations and decided to go back. Resisted punching doctor. Gave advice to another Mum in docs waiting room. Feel like a hero. I know stuff! Feeling brighter. Accepting of new life. Wish I could get back in my jeans for date night.

4 months: Organised. Routine established. Days have structure. Baby wakes up at 3am then 7am. Do-able. Joined gym. Have the occasional thought about going back to work, throat swells up.

5 months: Confused. Weaning? Is like weeing? Thought potty training was ages away. Must talk to other Mums.

5.5 months: More confused than ever. Buy blender. And bananas. And rice. Basmati?

5.6 months Wrong rice. Return it and buy Baby rice.

6 months: Exasperated. Routine lost. Spend all day feeding. Shit stinks.

6.5 months: Betrayed. Dada?! Are you kidding me?

7 months: Trepidation. Err….it moved. WTF? This house is a danger zone.

8 months: Anxious. Why must everything go in the mouth?! You can’t eat Babybel wax! Wish it would lie still again.

9 months: Heartbroken. “Keep In Touch” day at work. Cry on train. Cry in toilets at work. Call home seven times. Run back to the train station and snap heel on new shoes. Don’t care. Don’t let go of Baby for 3 hours. Re-do finances and research working at local nursery.

10 months: Pained. Back killing from holding baby upright so it can walk. Can’t you just crawl again?

11 months: Focused. Spend all day on knees with arms around Baby making a cage to stop it falling on face. Bump on head from last week. Am waiting for Social Services to knock on door. Finally able to do button up on pre baby jeans. Now to lose muffin top.

12 months: Proud and Reminiscing. Made it to a year! Baby is so big and so clever! More so than every other baby at nursery. It’s gone too fast! Remember how cute it was? Remember that sniffly noise it used to make? Big sigh. Maybe we could go away for the weekend and drink and lie in like grown ups. Remember when we used to lie in? Remember how much fun Friday nights were? Remember when parents used to say all those cliche things and we’d roll our eyes but now we know they’re all true? Don’t care….love new life.

Recognise any of these as things you feel in the first year?! Send yours in via the Making Little People Facebook page or on Twitter (@makinglittleppl). More blog posts available here. 

Things you feel in the first year
Things I would like for Mothers Day 2017

Things I would like for Mothers Day 2017

Mothers Day is just around the corner and since it’s my 3rd one and I have two Girlies, I intend to take full advantage. Note that none of this post is sponsored, I’m just sharing my fave things that I would like as Mothers Day gifts! Listen up Husband!

I want to wake up in my favourite Egyptian Cotton bedsheets, minus the poo stains, sick patches and wee puddles. These ones are expensive but totally worth it. The annoying thing is that they get softer the longer you have them…we often debate how many bodily fluids are acceptable before you throw them away and start again.

I expect to be brought burning hot tea in my beautiful Emma Bridgewater Mummy mug. And I want to drink it while it’s hot. With some hot cross buns. And maybe a chocolate digestive. Or two.

Mothers Day gift Alexander McQueen wrap

After breakfast I would like to put on my fat cover ups, I’m loving this Alexander McQueen one which I’ll wear with my sexy fat pants and stretchy jeans (we all know I mean pyjamas) ready to fall asleep in later.

Mothers Day real ruler company

After a little play, maybe doing some jigsaw puzzles, I might have a little nap. Then I want us all to mark our heights on this amazing measuring chart. It’s an alternative to doing it on a wall and can move house with you, which I love.

We’re probably past midday now and allowed a glass of prosecco so I’ll have the £5 one I’ve discovered in Lidl or if Husband is feeling flush then I’ll have the pretty Pink one from Waitrose. My own Mum will stop by for a glass I’m sure!

After a nice M&S picnic lunch, I’ll be ready to receive my presents. This suede Rhino head (I’ll name him Rambo) will look great in amongst my bookcase. And since every new baby demands a ludicrously expensive handbag, I’ll be acting delighted and surprised as I’m handed this!
#RhinoHead #Rambo #Rhino #debenhams #mothersday #mother #gift#YSL #Handbag #mothersday #gift

Finally my hand will be adorned with this beautiful ring while they all tell me how much they love me and that the house just wouldn’t work without me.

In the afternoon the Girls will sleep for two hours at exactly the same time whilst I laze (glamorously of course) on the sofa maybe watching one of the films I just haven’t got to recently…Bad Mom seems like a good choice.

After a surprise evening meal at a local pub where my daughters are perfectly behaved and everyone comments on how wonderfully brought up they must be, I’m told that next day I’m going to a spa with my best mum friends! A day here at Champneys Forest Mere will I’m sure leave me feeling calm and serene, ready to accept another week of Girly no1 covering herself in food and drink and Girly no2 crying for 2 hours every day before bed.

#TheGreatFrogLondon #Ring #Panther #MothersDay #GiftBedtime swiftly follows taking only ten minutes because no one wriggles, runs away naked or cries so I’m on the sofa by 7.30 ready to tuck into the huge bar of chocolate waiting for me. Obviously it’s ok for me to eat since I didn’t buy it myself. Healthy eating maintained!

As much as this is my dream day, we all know it’s far more likely that I’ll wake up in my poo-stained, ripped sheets with one baby being sick down my cleavage while my toddler jumps on my head. We’ll eat stale hot cross buns with cold tea in our PJ’s and then have a glass of flat prosecco that was opened 3 days ago. No one will sleep, during the day or at night. My only Mothers Day gift will be a piece of card with some tissue paper stuck to it that no1 made at nursery. Girly no2 will produce 10 pooey nappies and it will rain all day so we won’t be able to leave the house. We won’t bother going out for dinner because the baby won’t stop crying and Girly no1 won’t eat anything on the menu, so we’ll eat ready meals from Tescos in front of CBeebies. It will be perfect and I’ll love every second.

Happy Mothers Day Super Mamas! Enjoy your day as much as I will! Please like or comment below. Further blog posts available here.