big boy bedrooms, burning schools, feeling better

Oh, happy day!
Today is Tuesday. Roman has been sleeping in his bedroom since Saturday night. No cot in my bedroom (that never got used) no being squashed with a snoring sweaty man on one side and a snoring sweaty boy on the other. My boobs are my own and I can lie on my stomach with out being slapped and whined at until I roll over to allow access (and Roman is cutting out the night feeds too!) My bedroom looks massive without the cot in it, and I must say, I'm loving being able to go up to bed to read with the lamp on, should I so desire. I'm loving the hours of solid undisturbed sleep.
I'm not loving the fact that it's the end of an era, and my days as the mother of a tiny baby have come to an end. I'll never again watch in wonder as my stomach grows, never look forward to seeing my baby for the first time at a scan. I'll never get to argue over names, plan a nursery, pick a pram, pack a hospital bag, place bets on whether my bump is blue or pink, what day the baby will arrive, what he or she will weigh. I'll never get to hold my precious newborn in my arms, smell their newborn smell, welcome them to the world and tell them how much I love them and how precious they are to me.
I know there are people who will think that's mad, I've got 4 beautiful babies and pregnancy nigh on kills me every time. I'd be lying if I said I'm not relieved that i'll never have to go through the high blood pressure, failing kidneys, dodgy liver, itching, diabetes and who knows what else would probably get thrown at me next time, so from that point of view, yes, having no more babies is most definitely the right thing. Not to mention i'd probably lose my marbles if we added another small person to our brood! I guess I'll just make the most of friends new babies for now, until such time as I'm presented with a grandchild. Not for at least 20 years though hopefully!

The best part about actually getting some sleep is that it's done wonders for my mood. I've not had a panic attack, I'm not as tearful, I have energy to actually get up and do things which automatically puts me in a better mood. That's the problem with depression, it's a cycle. You feel horrible, have no energy and don't want to do anything. Not doing anything makes you feel horrible, have no energy and not want to do anything, so you become even more depressed. See where I'm going with this? No amount of being told to snap out of it, or (as i've experienced) public humiliation, "friends" outing you on facebook for moaning too much and making you feel a million times worse, or husbands getting frustrated because they don't understand what it is you're trying to tell them, or whoever it is that's involved with your life but can't figure out what the hell is wrong, none of it is enough to  make you just get up and do whatever it is you're supposed to be doing in order for people to think you're "normal" if there is such a thing. So for me, getting a bit more sleep, and having enough energy to sweep the floors, cook a proper dinner and tackle the washing pile is enough to lift my spirits and enable me to start helping myself to get better. How refreshing. I think I'm pretty good at hiding my depression from people who I don't want to worry with it. That's probably not always a good thing, I tend to hide it from the people who could actually help me, but I feel embarrassed and like they'll think I'm a failure. Poor Husband bares the brunt of it instead. So here's hoping that this new found good mood continues! This is also the perfect time to get cracking with the diet (again) so slimming world is gaining a new member (again) I hope to be considerably slimmer by the summer.

The biggest excitement of the week, would have to be Lucas school burning down! The hall and drama studio are completely gone. We had a good sniff of Luca when he arrived home, and the good news is he didn't smell of smoke, so I'm fairly confident he had nothing to do with it. I asked him if he saw the fire, he said yes. But then I asked him if he put out the fire himself and he said yes, so he's not really an entirely reliable witness. I have it on good authority that he was nowhere near the fire or the hoses, his account will not hold up in court. He's been off since Friday, and let me tell you for a child with autism, this sudden and unexpected change in routine never goes down well! He hasn't been too bad, if you don't count eating us out of house and home, being extremely stimmy, having major laughing fits and major tantrums. The school called today, children can go back tomorrow if the parents want, but they have no heating, no hot water, and no kitchen for school dinners.

Therefore, I've sorted a thermal vest, a packed lunch and a flask. Bad mummy, moi? Noooo.....

                                                        The newest bedroom in the house

It's been a long time...

...Since my last blog. My laptop died. My soul died, a little bit, and life in general has got in the way.

Would you believe me if I said I was very, very sorry? No? O.K, moving swiftly on...

Where to begin!! Roman turned one, a bittersweet day. I had to celebrate the fact that my last ever baby has been here for a whole year, while at the same time still trying to come to terms with the whole horrific saga that was my pregnancy, the birth, and the awful few months that came after, where I couldn't enjoy my baby  because I was in too much pain, and he cried all the time. Nevertheless the day went very nicely, he loved opening his presents (or watching them be opened by his "helpful" brothers and sister) he loved the attention, he....slept through the blowing out of candles and cutting of cake. Luca stood in for him and did a fantastic job. I was truly overwhelmed by how many people wished him a Happy Birthday, sent him cards and presents, or even quick texts to say they hoped he was having a lovely day. It's nice to know he's loved. Most people turned up to his little party and all (I hope!) had a really lovely time.  I didn't actually make his cake, I've lost all confidence in that department, but I did decorate it for him and was more or less happy with the results! He seemed to like cramming it in to his greedy little chops so it obviously hit the spot!

On top of Birthday celebrations, there has been some major dramas, sadly all centered around me and my ridiculously fragile state of mind. One person, who shall remain nameless, very helpfully dubbed me "the undiagnosed clinically insane" on his facebook status. Totally untrue of course, I have been diagnosed, and not with clinical insanity! It's depression, post natal depression, and post traumatic stress disorder, and for whatever reason it's hit me like a ton of bricks just recently. So bad that simple things, like talking and smiling and driving further than the  school run have been beyond me at times. Hell, even the school run has left me in a state of tearful panic! And much to the annoyance of those who like to talk, no, I don't have reason to feel that way and no, I can't explain why. It's just the way it is, and nobody wishes more than I do that I wasn't this way, it's crippling and miserable and embarrassing and sometimes it feels like it will never end. The final straw was half term, where being home alone with the kids was truly torture and I felt like I was failing. Failing as a wife, failing as a mother, failing as a human being in general, really. Lee tries his best, but he has to work or he won't get paid, and I doubt his boss would be massively sympathetic, to be honest. So he's borne the brunt of an awful lot of tears and tantrums. And he's still here, so he must love me. I'm very lucky to have some truly amazing friends, who listen when I talk, accept me for the nutjob I am, and encourage me to laugh at myself when I'm being particularly crazy. It helps that most of them are just as crazy, in their own special ways. There must be something in the water around here. I've also learned recently, that no matter how nice you try to be to some people, however much you listen to them whine and complain, and offer your sympathy and your help, they are simply not interested in being friends. Even when you've tried to explain why you've been the way you've been and apologised for causing any kind of offense. And that's fine. I'm done trying.

Phew! I could go on for hours about how rubbish I am these days, but I won't bore you. Lets just say I won't be expecting mothers day cards this year!

In other ways, life is simply fantastic. Roman is crawling and cruising and learning that being on the floor playing is often more fun than being sat on mummys lap. Just as long as she's not doing anything silly, like leaving the room! He's learning every day, he says words and plays with his toys and dances, and all those other amazing things that babies on the verge of being toddlers do. And I try very hard to watch and appreciate. He is my last, after all.
Jack has been accepted in to his senior school of choice for September (sob) I cannot believe he'll be 11 soon, although he is already a teenager, he grunts instead of speaking, barely leaves his room, wouldn't wash EVER if I didn't force him, and I'm pretty sure he's forgotten what sunlight actually looks like! Poor boy is in for a shock when he starts senior school, and his homework encroaches on his minecraft time!
Luca is doing well, we've had a few blips with his behaviour and sleeping and the never ending saga that is the councils idea of school transport, but he seems to be settling back in to a bit of a routine now, thank the lord.
Isabella is her usual crazy self. She's taken up horse riding, many thanks to my lovely friend who has let her have access to a pony, cos we'd never afford lessons! She's loving it, you'd never think a child could be so excited about picking up poo, but Bella seems to think its the most fun ever! And I'm hoping it'll teach her some self discipline, as she's due to start infant school in September (again, sob!!) and is still prone to the odd arm folding, foot stamping tantrum!
On the cooking and book writing front, it's all come to a stop! The book because my laptop died. My daddy has very kindly donated one to us, which i've fixed up and its lovely, so writing will resume with gusto. It's like therapy for me. Only cheaper. The baking has really taken a backseat as i've been so busy concentrating on not falling apart in every other aspect of my life, but I am still very interested and hope to dust off my pinny as soon as possible.
For now, I'll love you and leave you, mainly because a small monster has just crawled past me on his way to the toybox, and a very unpleasant odour seems to be following him!!

sleep, lack of sleep, moods due to lack of sleep!

Good morning readers! Well it's morning, which means I have survived another night, which is good enough for me.
It's been a long time since I've blogged. Not because I haven't wanted to or because I decided I couldn't be bothered any more or anything. Oh no, it was much worse than that. We suffered the horror of broken laptop! Let me assure you, this was serious. No youtube or cbeebies for Luca, no blogging for me, and I lost the first few chapters of my book! There were tears and tantrums, and Luca didn't take it too well either. Luckily my cousins husband is a computer whizz, he has retrieved everything from our own laptop, and has lent us one to use so that normal life can resume. Phew!
So first things first, I need to offload.  This lack of sleep is killing me. It's not just Roman, restlessly smacking and pinching me all night, shrieking like he's being murdered if I turn away from him and deny him access to his milk source (that it comes from a part of my body with nerve endings is irrelevant to him) and it's not just Luca, awaking at anything from 3-5am and running up and down screaming until the rest of the house admits defeat and rises with him. No, on top of these things, which I have long been used to and have accepted as a part of life, my brain has now decided to turn me against, well, me. Even during the hours where my offspring are dreaming, I'm lying there awake and thinking.
Am I a good enough mother (no, you're not)
Is my house really that much of a mess? (yes, it is)
Do we have enough money to pay all the bills and still treat the kids at Christmas (possibly, but they'll not get everything they might have asked for. Oh, how disappointed they will be)
Is Roman autistic, like Luca is? (yes, he is. No, of course he's not. But what if he is? What then?)
Does my husband love me? (No, he's biding his time and will leave you just as soon as he can)
Do my friends even like me? (No)
Is Isabella really clever, or just an out and out brat? (the latter, probably)
Will Jack be ok at secondary school? Did i make the right choice applying to that one? (no, its a horrible school full of bullies and a rubbish head teacher)
And on and on it goes. Until I finally fall in to an exhausted sleep, only to wake with a start because I heard a noise, which could only be aliens coming to kidnap me for experiments. So then the cycle starts over.
By the time morning comes I'm too tired to even be able to cry properly, so all I can manage is a few dry eyed sob type whimpers, before throwing on mismatching pyjamas and haphazardly going about all the things that need doing before the school run.
Then the guilt sets in. Compared to some people I know, my life is a piece of cake. How dare I lie here, wallowing in self pity when some people have real problems! I look at my daughter sitting on the rug colouring in her sparkly ponies colouring book, I look at my baby, in his highchair, waving at the TV with cheerios stuck to his chin and think about my 2 big boys, off being clever and doing well at school, think about my husband, who knows everything there is to know about me (some of it as un-pretty as it gets) and still he's here with kind words and cuddles, and of course he loves me, why on earth would he still be here if he didn't. So I'm one of the lucky ones! Why don't I feel lucky? Surely raising my children, looking after our home, cooking dinner, it shouldn't feel like such hard work, should it? Who knows. I'm in therapy, hopefully it'll fix my faulty brain wires!
The upshot of this lack of sleep is that I am one moody cow! Things that on a normal day would go over my head, become a huge deal. One woman got the sharp edge of my tongue yesterday (well keyboard but whatever) Twice. And it was mainly because I was too tired and emotional to deal with her crap in the way I normally would, by ignoring it. Oh well. Lee and the kids have a tendency to tip toe around me, which only succeeds in annoying me further, but being noisy annoys me further still, so they can't win!
One day I'll get a decent nights sleep, and the world will be a friendly place again. If we haven't all been stolen by aliens by then, of course.
Lots more has been going on since my last blog, dear readers, I'm trying to think! It was my birthday and I was spoiled rotten by Lee and the family. That was nice. We also went out, just the 2 of us, for the first time in I don't even know how long. I only had a couple of mojitos and a beer but was quite tipsy, and the food was amazing. I'd like to do it once a month (babysitters please apply here)
Roman has a tooth! My nipple knows alllll about that. He is also trying to crawl, eating anything you put in front of him, as well as mashing it in to his hair, and has developed a severe case of separation anxiety, resulting in me taking him everywhere with me to avoid the screaming. His favourite place to be is the bathroom, I think he likes the echo! Luca had the starring role in his class performance at the harvest festival. He sung 5 currant buns, on the microphone, while dressed in a chefs hat and apron. Cute overload, and of course I cried.
we've begun the long, slow task of getting the house back in order after building our extension. It's gonna take a while!! I have a new rug and curtains in the living room which i'm very happy about (yes I know that's quite sad) I've started bootcamp, basically 3 nights a week I stand in a carpark in basildon (yes, in the dark, wind, and rain) killing myself with exercise, along with 10 or so other woman. I will get slim if it kills me. I am now in constant pain from muscles I had forgotten existed.
So on that note, I shall leave you. And I promise you, next time I will have found a better mood, and normal service will resume!

Holiday, Christmas, Organisation, Envelope!

So it's been a busy month in the madhouse.  We've had a lovely holiday, £10 sun newspaper offer, Isle of Wight, thank you very much! Mind you, by the time we'd packed the car (it's like a game of extreme sardines, even with the roof box) packed the children (oh how I wish we could actually do that, in little sealed and sound proofed boxes) driven 3 hours to the ferry, waited an hour to get on the ferry, then an hour actually on the ferry, I think we could have got to Spain and it would have been less stressful! Also, I have to tell you a little story...
A week before our trip, I say to The Husband "our sat nav isn't working, we should probably order another one before we go"
"No no, I've had the sat nav working fine, you just need to jiggle the lead a bit"
"Really? Last time I tried to use it, it wasn't working at all! It'll be a nightmare if we don't have a sat nav"
"It'll be fine, it works fine."
"O.k dear"
So. The morning of our trip comes, we get in the car, and The Husband says to me "If you could just put the postcode in the sat nav"
Hmmm. Guess what. IT WON'T EVEN BLOODY SWITCH ON!!  Bloody marvellous. So muggins here is wedged in the back seat, with screaming baby one side and grumpy female child on the other, using my map app on my mobile and manage to get us to Southampton. Upon exiting at the other side, my phone promptly dies (queue another revelation from The Husband, he forgot to pick up my phone charger, as requested) and we are then poodling aimlessly around this Island trying to find our camp site! Eventually we got there, and spent the rest of the trip using a map of the island pulled out of the middle of a magazine. Joy! Other than sat nav gate, though, (which I did not let him forget for the duration of the trip) we really did have a wonderful time. It was lovely to all spend time together, with no computers, school runs, stress, arguments, you know what I mean. We were all very sad to come home. And you'll be pleased to know we now have a lovely shiny new sat nav. We have named her Mindy and I really like her, she's not as patronising as Sindy, our old sat nav.
Now our little jolly holiday is over and done with, my attention has been turned to the biggest stress inducing event of the year for families around the globe.  Christmas!! Unless you live under a rock, I'm sure you have been out to the shops or switched your TV on and been reminded that it is fast approaching.  I decided at the beginning of last year to bite the bullet and pay £50 a month in to a Christmas savings scheme. I did it for a few years just for a small amount and it worked really well so fingers crossed they don't decide to go bust this year or we'll be screwed! I'm not so worried about the cost of it, as hopefully the money I've been putting away will take care of it, but I do worry about making sure the day is perfect, the kids have fun, the house looks nice (ie clean, tidy, decorated nicely so that it looks Classily Christmassy, and not like the sugar plum fairy threw up in there.)  You have to try to make sure you see all your family members at a time where the kids are kind of awake enough to be happy to open presents with an appropriate level of enthusiasm, but not so awake they're bouncing off the walls, or on the flip side, not so tired that they are miserable and liable to throw a tantrum at the mere mention of wrapping paper. On top of that, Bella is insisting that we make a Christmas cake, which, she informs me, you have to make and then wrap it up tight and hide it for a long long time before you can decorate it. I can only assume someone else has been telling her all about it! We're going to have a go at making one, so watch this space!
This leads me to my next topic...organisation.  Basically, I have none.  Never have been organised, probably never will be. It's like a chronic illness. I know it's a problem, I know life is made harder because of it, but try as I might, this condition just gets the better of me!! Of course we'll be sat there at 3am of the 25th December wrapping presents. Just like at 11pm on any given week when we're tumble drying school t-shirts and making packed lunches while still half asleep. I vow that one day soon I will try to be more organised and get things done. Not this day though. This day is dedicated to tea drinking, Jeremy Kyle (to remind me that my life is really not so bad) and hugging my poorly teething boy. What worries me is that I've passed this affliction on to my oldest offspring, who gets given homework on a monday and can often be found frantically completing it on a friday morning, 10 minutes before we have to leave for school. I can't tell him off when I'm just as bad!!
Now, I just want to clear something up. The word envelope. Why do people call it an "onvelope"?? It's one of my bugbears. We don't go to the zoo to feed the oliphants or eat oggs on toast, hippie types don't travel the world for onlightenment, so why do people put their letters in onvelopes?? Stop it, please, just use a plain old envelope like the rest of us commoners!

On a very final (and quite sad) note, It has been a really tough few weeks for some ladies I am very close to.  We have shared all the nitty gritty parts of our lives and have been so close for over a year now, so their sadnesses and hard times also become mine. You know who you are and I'm not going to name names, but know that my love and kisses are all going to you xxx <3 xxx

baking, breath holding, book writing, shelves!

Today is the start of week 2 of the back to school routine. It's going pretty well! Nobody has been late, nobody has feigned illness to get out of it, although I've been tempted on one or two occasions. If anything, they all seem a little too happy to be back! The other day I had to coax Bella out of the playschool toilets, where she had hidden herself because she didn't want to come home. I told her that her Uncle Steve would be sad, because he'd come all the way from Australia to see her....her reply? "Australia doesn't exist, I've never even been there!" Well, obviously. But she begrudgingly came out after promises of ice cream. Nice to know she enjoys play school but I'd like to think she enjoyed mummy time just a little bit! Luca has had a few issues thanks to the council changing his transport twice in the 6 days he's been back! Of course saving money is far more important than the happiness of a 7 year old boy. One day i'll go all chav on them and will ring up screaming and swearing. Not this day though, i'm too tired.
As my title suggests, I've been dabbling with a bit of baking now I have the time. I've made a pie (yes this counts as baking, it's pastry!) and whoopie pies, which are not pastry, or even pies really, but delicious nonetheless. We've (ok Lee's) done a massive kitchen clear out, and sorted all my baking equipment and I seem to have amassed quite a collection! Baking tins, piping bags, icing nozzles, stencils, cutters, cases, it all looks ever so posh and professional. I just need to start using it! I know what you're thinking, I am neither posh nor professional, but hey, a girl can dream. Once I have my new kitchen, with a shiny new oven and plenty of work surface it might be easier! I also want a resin floor, because icing sugar and buttercream are just a pig to get out of grouting, so I suppose I need to start saving up!
The other thing I really need in order to really get my bake on, is less dramatic children!! Yesterday, as I was merrily cooking dinner (tacos with salad and wedges) Lee came running in with Roman, who was doing that silent scream babies do, because Bella had swung a toy around and managed to whack him on the head. I took him and watched in horror as he continued to do the silent scream without taking a breath until he went blue and passed out. I'm first aid trained, but that all went out the window as I was screaming for an ambulance. Once he'd passed out he started breathing again and came to really quickly, but a paramedic came and checked him over anyway and gave him a clean bill of health. Apparently it's known as a breath holding attack and is quite common in babies and small children. Not in this house it won't be, if he does it again I may just have to smack his bottom!! (social services pls note THIS IS A JOKE!!) Scary scary moment, dinner was very nearly ruined. Such an inconsiderate child.
Ooh, I have also bitten the bullet and made a start on writing that book! I bought a big notebook and a posh pen (ballpoint, black)  and sat down the other day to write down some of my ideas. Basically, I keep having this recurring dream, and my book is going to be based on that. It's set in the not too distant future, and life is very different.. A lovely friend of mine, who is also writing a book, has said she will look over anything I manage to write and give me feedback, so at least if it's really bad she will let me know before I embarrass myself! Thank you Freja :) And all the rest of you lovely ladies who have been supporting and encouraging me too of course!
On a final note, shelves. If you have a large family and not such a large house, put up shelves. Wall shelves, book shelves, shelving units, honest to God, my life has changed forever! If it's on the floor, or cluttering up a table, shelve it. Be artistic if you wish, or just bung it on to stop you tripping and killing yourself. Shelves. The way of the future!!

bedrooms, bravery, and ohmygod I may kill this dog!

For my Dearest Avid Readers. (you can take the pleural out if you wish, but don't tell me, I don't want my bubble busted!)
I am writing this in the splendour that is Lucas new bedroom. It's awesome. Even if I do have to deal with smelly 7 year old foot in my face, and mario kart at full volume. It smells (foot aside) like fresh paint and new carpet, and is not yet completely demolished like every other room in the house. Well. There has been one incident, whereby the shelf that was home to his tv and dvd remote has been ripped from the wall, but we won't talk about that.  It's been a real labour of love, this room. there is a Peppa Pig/Mr Men mural on the wall, hand painted by The Husband, the rest of it is sunny yellow and bright and airy, and Luca seems to love it, he slept very well in here last night, other than the shelf ripping incident which we have already agreed not to talk about.
This, coupled with the previous move of Jack in to his new room, means that we now have the opportunity to switch around upstairs, put Bella in the big room, and decorate the small room for Roman. I know this is an inevitable part of the expansion of my house and family, and is a necessary step toward becoming a real boy for my tiny baby, but am I really ready? The answer is a resounding NO! I'm not ready to admit that he's no longer a teeny baby, I'm not ready to give up those early morning snuggles and the sound of his breathing right next to me in the dead of night, I'm not ready to give up being able to roll over and kiss his sweaty little head whenever I feel like it, and most of all, I'm not ready to drag myself out of bed every 63 minutes to traipse down the hallway and in to another room to settle him back to sleep when right now all I have to do is allow him access to my boob without even having to open both eyes. At the same time, I am SO ready to be able to have pillows, starfish, do away with the godforsaken bed guard that I always end up falling in to because there is just no room in the bed, and maybe, just maybe, not waking up to every little sigh, snuffle and whimper. "Alone time" with The Husband doesn't really figure in my pros and cons list, we've got 4 kids, we'll never be alone again. I think knowing Roman is my last baby is a large part of my reluctance to see him grow up, as I know once he's gone there will never be another baby sharing my bed, and that chapter of our family life will be over, so I want to prolong and savour it all as much as possible. Plus, as I say, I don't fancy having to keep getting out of bed to see to him through the night!! I suppose it will have to happen again eventually, ask me again after his 1st birthday and maybe I'll be feeling a little better about the whole thing.
So today, for me, is all about bravery. When some people think about bravery, they think of jumping out of  aeroplanes for charity, rushing in to burning buildings, standing up to a robber or a mugger, etc. But that's not the only type of bravery, sometimes something mundane and ordinary to one person can be an extremely brave act for another. It all depends on how scared you are, and how much courage you've had to pluck up to do whatever it is you're doing. So my brave act today was taking Jack and Luca out for lunch, all by myself!! Not really that big a deal, but since Lucas diagnosis I have always been afraid to do things like that. Afraid he'll run in to the road, afraid i'll turn my back for a second and lose him, afraid he'll have the mother of all meltdowns and people will stare and I'll end up turning in to a raging violent fishwife and confirm what everyone is thinking...that my child is an arsehole because i'm a shitty common mother who has never disciplined him or taught him how to behave. Thing is, all these things have now happened and I have survived them. He ran in to the road once, I immediately ran after him, caught him, apologised to the rather shaken up driver who had performed an emergency stop to avoid hitting the mother who had run out in to the road after her child who was already safely on the other side. He escaped the house once when me and his dad weren't looking and we had to get the police out, who found him within 15 minutes (the longest 15 minutes of my life) completely oblivious to the fact that he was lost, and a little annoyed at being made to come home. He had a meltdown in tesco recently, and an old lady looked at him like he was scum, so I told her to stop staring or I'd smack her in the mouth, and actually? I didn't feel common or fish wife-y at all, I felt pretty good about it! So there we have it, I thought to myself, all those things have happened, we survived, we overcame, and actually there is no need to remain a prisoner in our home for fear of these things happening when actually I have already proved to myself that if they do happen, we will deal with it and move on. So off we went to Ramos, Luca decided he was too old to hold my hand (sob) and walked next to me with only a few re-directions (this way, stop, keep up, etc) we had our lunch, we walked to the sweet shop to buy ice cream for afters, and we walked home again. His behaviour was pretty impeccable, and I now feel brave enough to do things like that more often. I may have to build up slowly to taking all 4 out on my own without having a nervous breakdown, but it's a good start!!
Lastly, I happen to be dog sitting for my parents while they have a holiday. I've had dogs before and always found them to be hard work but manageable. Not so with this spawn of satan. So far, he's pissed on the front room floor, pissed on the kitchen floor, crapped on the hallway floor, howled all night, barked at everything and anything that dares to come in to our garden, from unsuspecting cats to falling leaves. Just this morning, The Husband let him in to the garden. 3 minutes later, he came in from the garden and left a pile of poo on the front room floor, before going back out to the garden. Then, after i'd spent an hour hoovering, sweeping and mopping , I let him in from the garden to find he's been out there rolling around in the dirt, and he then proceeded to leave little piles of dirt all over my nice clean floors! He is inches away from being taken to the nearest pound, and has reminded me that I do not want to own a dog for at least the next 15 years. Perhaps when all my children have moved out i'll get one, instead of one of those creepy dolls we discussed last time.

                                                                  ^Lucas new room

                                                    ^Lunch date with the bigger boys

cooking, writing, babywearing...

Ooooh check me out.  Another post and it's not even been a week!

To be quite truthful, not much has happened. I've been doing that endless round of cleaning, tidying, bribing, begging and bargaining that is all part and parcel of parenthood. I'm sure you know what I mean. Making breakfasts, lunches and dinners that are regarded with suspicion and discarded, almost completely untouched, for fear that a vegetable may have touched the plate at some point during the cooking process. Wiping the kitchen sides 50 billion times because no matter what you do, some form of stickiness still remains. Convincing your daughter that blackcurrant squash and milk mixed together will not make a tasty treat. Explaining, for the millionth time, that felt tip pens are not really recommended for use on wallpaper.
I make it sound like parenthood is tiring, infuriating and thankless, don't I! Well it's not always that way. Honest! We do have fun, and there is a lot of laughter, I've just had to accept that my house won't look the way I want it to until they've all grown up and moved out, and knowing me, when that happens I'll become one of those bereft women who buys those disturbing life like dolls, or owns 12 cats, because the house is just too quiet!
But anyway, the one thing i have got back to doing just recently is cooking proper dinners! While I was pregnant and waging war with my body, I couldn't do much more than remain lying down lest my blood pressure killed me. Then came the c-section aftermath, where I just wanted to crawl in to a hole and pretend the open infected wound and the pain that came with it belonged to someone else, and all my energy was spent pumping milk and visiting my little squib in the hospital. When said squib came home, it transpired that he was not the kind of child who would sit happily in a bouncy chair while I lovingly prepared healthy hearty meals, no, he was the type of child who felt that the only reason my arms existed was so that he could be in them and attached to a boob. 7 months later, he'll now go down for naps, and sit in his chair watching me, so I can get back to it.
What I've learned from my little foray in to baking, is that cooking and baking are 2 very different things. Baking is a kind of science, everything has to be weighed and measured just so, and mixed in a certain way, or else all you have is a recipe for disaster. Cooking on the other hand, is bakings mystical twin. You can experiment, you can add or subtract certain ingredients without too much of a problem. You can keep checking on and tasting and stirring throughout the whole process, so if you feel that things are not quite going the way you want them to, you can make adjustments, add more salt, or a dash of mustard, or some more water, and so on. So far this past week i've made stew, bolognese, pasta bake, pie, and they have all been lovely. This gives me a sense of achievement! I'll still stick with the baking, because it's fun and exciting and I'm happy to laugh (a little bit) at my disasters, but there is something quite therapeutic and comforting about knowing I can knock up a roast dinner with my eyes closed.

The other thing I've been thinking about an awful lot lately, is writing. I've had a love of reading for as long as I can remember, I literally had to read everything, from books to food labels. This love of reading turned in to a love of writing when I was probably about 7. I would write short stories, mainly about dogs, or groups of school children, as that's what I knew and was familiar with at the time. But just lately, I've been reading books and finding myself thinking "I could have written that" or "If this were my story, it would have ended differently" I have very vivid dreams, one of which has been recurring and evolving for months, and I wake up every morning thinking I should write it down, get it arranged in to chapters, figure out where this story is going. There is just one thing holding me back (if we don't include lack of time) and that is the fear that when I write it down, it'll be rubbish. Or worse, that i'll love it but nobody else will!  There is something very intimate about writing a story for others to read. It's like allowing them to see in to your soul. Anything remotely sexual, or dark, or gory, comes from the deepest parts of your mind, and your fears, desires, wants, even needs, are suddenly laid bare for all the world to see. I have a massive alien phobia, to the point where I can't have even the smallest gap in the curtain in case they can see in the window and abduct me for probing, and I just know that my fear would end up playing a role in the type of book I would write. And alien invasion has been thoroughly done already. I still keep thinking I should just start, do a few pages, see where I end up, but then again, maybe i'll leave it til another day.

Last topic for the day... It has been bought to my attention that I am in fact what some people call an "attachment parent" What this means, is that I breastfeed on demand with no intention of stopping til my baby decides he wants to, I sleep with him in bed with me, I carry him in a baby sling during the day, I pick him up when he cries. I've done the same with all my children, with the exception of the breastfeeding, which due to lack of education and support, didn't work out the first 2 times. It's not something I do to feel superior to others, it's not something I do because I think it will make my children be smart (they are, but that's beside the point) I do it because that's what comes naturally to me. I do it because carrying him around in his sling means I can get stuff done without listening to ear piercing, gut wrenching sobs. I sleep with him because I feel happier knowing he's close and I can deal with him with little sleep lost should he wake in the night. I pick him up when he cries, because rather than learning to "self soothe" I'd rather he learned that mummy will respond to his needs, even if all he needs is a cuddle and a singsong. I like to think that this will carry on as he grows, and he, along with the others, will know they can depend on me being there for them when they need me, no matter how small the problem may seem. "Dr" Miriam Stoppard recently branded this style of parenting to be "extreme." Really? Well, if loving my babies, hugging them, welcoming them in to my bed for quiet, night time dreamy snuggles, holding them close in those early years before cuddling becomes something they want to avoid at all costs seems extreme to you, then call me what you want love. All I know is, my floors are mopped, the sides are wiped, and my eardrums are still intact. I'm happy with that :)

                                                    ^ Extreme. But at least the floor gets mopped.