new mum – another mama

ONE

One whole year. The days might seem long sometimes, but it’s hard to believe nearly a whole year has now gone by. A whole year with our two boys, a whole year since Wilf joined our family.

It only feels like yesterday that I was packing our hospital bag at the last minute. Theo was getting ready for his stay at his Nana and Abu’s, Andy was calling them to say that it was all happening and I was dropping to the floor every few minutes as the contractions came. I remember thinking at the time – this hurts. A lot. How can I do this for much longer? Turns out that I didn’t have to as Wilf was soon to make a very quick appearance. I keep saying of late that his personality is just like the way he came into the world; he is so calm, so chilled and then… all of sudden he makes himself known. He’s a whirlwind who will forever keep us on our toes, it seems.

A few weeks ago I happened to drive past the Sainsbury’s on Hill Lane – it was the first time I’d been that side of town since having Wilf. My heart raced as I caught sight of the car park, thinking back to that day, in the earliest of days or lockdown, where we had caused quite the scene. I think I will forever be processing the sheer euphoria at how we delivered our own baby, versus the what could have been if we hadn’t have been so lucky. In true Wilf style, he asserted himself as a strong little character straight away – and he hasn’t stopped since.

It’s a few days until Wilf turns one and I’m doing what I usually do: I’m reliving the before, the labour, then snippets of so far. I remember being an emotional wreck on Theo’s first birthday, then again on his second (mainly because the chilli I had made in the slow cooker had overflowed and leaked all down the kitchen units), and once again on his third birthday because this was his last one as just the three of us. Perhaps it’s because of the desire for things to be perfect, the pressure of the day, a bit like Christmas, or perhaps it’s the realisation that time really is flying by.

When I look back at photos of Theo’s birthdays, I see how he has blossomed from a baby to a toddler and now a little boy. And now, with Wilf, it’s hard to believe our teeny, tiny little newborn was once so still given that he is now everywhere and into everything. For the past year, lockdown aside, we’ve got through the colic, the reflux, the many and continued broken nights, the head in our hands at his fearlessness when it comes to climbing on things or trying to dive off them. He digs in the mud, he likes to eat stones, he has destroyed our TV remotes by using them as teethers. He is the cheekiest little chap who absolutely adores his big brother, and without a doubt, watching the bond grow between our two boys this past year has brought us the ultimate joy. It’s been one year of challenges – of things being different, of things being unbelievably difficult at times – but it’s certainly now one year to celebrate.

I know my mum refers to the day as “window pain” when they first met Wilf. They stood on the driveway, us in our living room, a panel of glass between us. We put on brave faces and we toasted to Wilf, bubbles in hand, knowing that a window-meet was be the best we could do for now. It’s easy to dwell on what has been lost and what has been missed, but one year on, it’s now about celebrating. Celebrating bringing another little human into the world and the delight that he has become.

When Wilf was born, we Facetimed Theo from the hospital. His excitement at now having a baby brother was unreal – he quite literally jumped for joy, squealing and smiling from ear to ear. My mum reminded me of how he commented at the time “I’ll share him with you,” which I’ve since watched back on video, noticing how little Theo looks here, one whole year ago. And now, exactly as Theo said, we absolutely will be sharing the joy that is Wilf. This weekend he gets to see his Nanny and Bampi for the second time – for real, not on a screen – and we will be raising glass with my family without a window between us. It’s been a year of hearing the word ‘bubbles’ so many times but not the ones we know and love. Nevermind support or social or childcare bubbles now. This weekend is all about the celebratory bubbles – the fizzy, sparkly ones to mark a whole year gone by. So, here’s to Wilf: our little lockdown baby, our wild little one.

It’s a mad world

Parenting is madness. Complete and utter madness. There are so many occasions where I hear myself and think, did I really just say that? Did that really just happen? It’s a mad, mad world.

I regularly tell Wilf at the moment to stop trying to climb in the dishwasher or tip the dog’s water bowl over. He quite likes to swing off the lamp, push his high chair around as if it’s a zimmer frame and empty the bookshelves too. All the while, he tells us “uh oh!” knowing full well that he’s up to no good. If he sees the stairs, he’ll make a dash to climb up them. If there’s a door open, he’ll be ready to slam it. If there’s a cupboard open, he’ll try to get in it. “Where’s Wilf?” is the most commonly used question in our house at the moment. Of course, everything is baby-proofed and he’s within our sight all of the time, but this still doesn’t stop him from finding every bit of mischief that he can.

Theo was a climber as a baby too, but he was far more measured than Wilf. A cautious explorer, I don’t remember us having our heads in our hands so much when he was little, but he’s more than made up for that in the past year or so. Being inquisitive has often got the better of our biggest little man, with his own speciality of getting things stuck. He’s managed to get himself wedged in the bars of a stairgate mid tantrum, and we also spent the day in A&E once after he pushed a raisin up his nose. When I asked him what made him do it, he responded (very innocently) with “just because.” Skipping around the hospital with a bed pan as a hat, I remember him being so proud as he told the doctor what he’d done and he wasn’t at all phased by the huge tool they had to use to get it out.

But he hasn’t exactly learned from this. This week he gave us another scare after managing to get his hand stuck in the toy kettle he plays with in the bath. Lots of moisturiser later and quite a bit of twisting and tugging, it came off eventually. It was a fine line for us as parents between panicking, giggling nervously and also crying with laughter at the hilarity the situation. It’s safe to say that we lap up every bit of quiet when the boys are tucked up in bed.

This morning I sorted the washing out and found a plastic corn on the cob in the wash basket; I know that Wilf is to thank for this and his new love of posting things in places. Plus he’s fascinated by the washing for some reason – clean or dirty – and quite likes to unsort it and throw it across the floor. It’s similar to his fascination with the bin, the hoover or the mop. Who knows why.

Stop diving on the sofa. Please take your finger out of your nose. Oh, Wilf’s eating food off the floor again. Who farted? I seem to say these things a million times a day. Who knew that parenting would be filled with such glamour? I certainly didn’t.

This week Theo has been self-isolating which basically means we have all been housebound. Again. The difference that a few months can make is really quite unbelievable. Compared to November when this last happened, this time around I have definitely gone more mad. The boys now bounce off each other – the squealing and screaming, the chasing each other, the diving around, the laughing hysterically. Their adoration for each other has most definitely blossomed as have their frustrations too. Clouting each other with a toy has become a regular occurrence and it seems as though little Wilf is learning to assert himself with his big brother. I am most certainly exhausted and have definitely gone more grey this past week.

Disjointed conversations. Duplo all over the floor. Endless requests for snacks. I know that we aren’t alone in this mad world and that other parents out there are very much familiar with the demands, the laughs and the bonkersness that their little people bring. It’s a mad world but one that we are very much used to now, and one that I know I’ll miss in a strange way next month when BOTH boys are at nursery one day a week. The house will feel quiet. I’ll actually be able to get on with my to-do lists uninterruptedly. And of course, I’ll be ready with open arms for their madness once again when they come home.

Just a mum

I’m just a mum. Is it bad that sometimes this doesn’t feel good enough though?

Perhaps it’s because maternity leave really doesn’t feel like maternity leave without the baby groups, playdates or the simple freedom of being out and about. I forget that technically this is ‘time off’. Or perhaps it’s because at the time of writing this, there have been a long string of broken nights and very early starts. Or perhaps, quite frankly, it’s because I am feeling so unbelievably done with all of the restrictions we are facing. It’s hard.

With two young boys and being home all of the time, the majority of days feel like an endless cycle of preparing meals, clearing up meals, dodging toys and tidying toys. I feel genuinely happy when I have worked my way through all of the laundry and geniunely sad when the wash basket starts to be filled once again. Most days, I am covered in food or slobber of somesort, as are my floors (which I have to battle with myself not to feel precious about). And most days, I don’t have any adult conversation until Andy and I catch up of an evening once the boys are sleeping.

There are days where I feel like we have achieved lots. Maybe Theo has been really engaged in an activity, we’ve been for a long walk and Wilf has sat and played contentedly. I feel then like I’ve been a good mum. There are other days that don’t feel quite so satisying though. Days where there has been too much whinging. Days where I’ve run out of patience. Days where I am clock-watching to begin the bath and bedtime routine. But, I have to tell myself on those days that this doesn’t make me a bad mum – the fact that the two boys have gone to sleep soundly and happily means that I must have done something right. I have kept two little humans occupied, fed and watered all day, so surely, that’s an achievement.

Despite finding lockdown with little ones incredibly hard, I’m also incredibly thankful for not having to juggle homeschooling or working from home too. Hats off to those who are doing it. At the same time though, in a strange way, there is a bit of me who is envious of the focus that these things might bring – interactions with other people (even if it is on zoom), being needed or relied upon for something other than snacks. Do I feel guilty at times for not being at work or part of team during these times? Absolutely. Do I feel bad when I hear about the stresses of peoples’ days as they adapt to changes and new information? Absolutely. But then I have to tell myself: being ‘just a mum’ is work. HARD work. And it certainly feels like this all the more when you are at home all day, everyday, during a global pandemic.

Having now made the decision that it’s also time for a career change, the maternity leave as a teacher that I fizzled into back in March last year is now fizzling out. Freelance writing now means being my own boss, working flexibly and therefore being around more for our boys as they grow up. Plus, it’s something I have wanted to do for so long. But with this change comes a whole new set of challenges – being motivated to work of an evening even though I’m exhausted, making use of Wilf’s naps and keeping Theo occupied when I have things I need to do. It’s a whole new world of juggling and striking a balance. But it’s hugely exciting and at long last, I feel good for taking the leap.

There’s nothing wrong with being just a mum. It’s the hardest job in the world – I honestly believe that. I have the utmost respect for parents whose choice is to stay home with their children full-time because it’s full on and exhausting, it’s completely non-stop. But for me, since becoming a mum, whilst I’ve gained a whole new identity as a parent, it has been easy to forget all of the things I loved before my days became filled with little people. I often wonder, what did I do all day on weekends? How on earth did I fill the summer holidays? It’s amazing how quickly we adjust and how we forget too.

A bit like having two children. There is no doubt that two is a total game changer: they go in different directions, they have different needs and their little personalities are so different. Just as I was beginning to think I was getting to grips with being a mum, becoming a mum of two has brought about a whole new set of challenges and questions.

But, in this role as a mum to two boys, there are of course the best rewards too. Seeing your two children laugh and play with and adore each other is without a doubt, the biggest perk of the ‘just a mum’ job. It may be tiring and it may be intense, but my goodness, it’s worth it all.