This lady, Eeh Bah Mum is an amazing, hilarious blogger who I have followed since I was pregnant with my first baby and I was sent a link to one of her posts.
She's recently been criticised by another Mummy blogger, for amongst other things, calling her son a Dick.
There's been a bit of Mummy blogger backlash and Eeh Bah Mum has written a response - so there's not really anymore to be said about the affair.
Apart from the fact I wanted to say thank you to Eeh Bah Mum for making me feel like it's all really okay. Children are dicks sometimes - we all are. Her posts are witty, insightful, crude, cruel, a celebration of the comedy of being a Mummy and a commentary on the situations we've all been in and know so well. And reading them makes me laugh out loud and feel better about the fact I sometimes leave the babies to cry for a bit while I pluck my eyebrows.
She's been blogging since my first baby was born, and at 3am, when a baby is crying for no reason, I can think "Oh, you're probably just being a dick, that's cool. Let's hug it out" Eeh Bah Mum said it first and it has empowered me. And I'm truly grateful.
I've had experiences of fellow Mums online and in real life who have made me feel wonderful and brave and cherished. And some Mums have made me feel a bit shitty. And I may have unintentionally made other Mums feel both ways. Let's face it - if you're a Mum, you're probably a bit weird. We have so much access and information on all the different styles of parenting, it's easy to raise a (perfectly plucked) brow at what other people are doing. And we sometimes make a silent comment or judgement on what "other mothers" are doing. But it is totally not cool to make an out and out criticism. Not cool at all.
We're all a little bit of everything. I'm breastfeeding twins (Mummy plus point) I still drink red wine and coffee and did through both my pregnancies (Mummy negative point) I've always made all the baby food from scratch (Mummy plus point) I use disposable nappies and get through wet wipes like they're going out of fashion (Mummy negative point)
My experience has made me who I am and it's given me the tools to be a parent - sometimes I get it right, sometimes I get it horribly wrong. But websites like Scary Mommy and bloggers like Kirsty (@eehbahmum) make me feel strong and brave and silly and cheerful - and that's probably a good mix for a Mummy.
p.s. Whilst we may want to throw our drinks in other people's faces, nobody actually does it, apart from on EastEnders when they do it all the time. But even then I've never seen anyone do it to a baby.
Thursday, 19 March 2015
Questions and Answers by a Nearly Two Year Old
Z has started to talk - it's so brilliant getting to be part of his journey as he becomes a proper conversationalist. Some of these are instant classics and I don't want to forget a single one.
Where have Daddy and Grandad gone?
Pub
Z, have you done a poo?
No, Daddy
Z, have you done a poo?
No, faart
Have you been a good boy today or have you been a bit mad?
Mad
Who broke the bin?
Grandad
Would you like to wear those pyjamas on your head to nursery?
Yes
Z, what are you doing?
Biting Frafer
What does that stone smell like?
Neck
Z, what would you like for dinner?
Honey
Who did Mummy's lovely Mother's Day present come from?
Shops
Z, why did you throw that ball at E's face?
S'a ball
All other questions should be answered with a resounding No. Or with another question.
It might be time to stop asking him questions.
Where have Daddy and Grandad gone?
Pub
Z, have you done a poo?
No, Daddy
Z, have you done a poo?
No, faart
Have you been a good boy today or have you been a bit mad?
Mad
Who broke the bin?
Grandad
Would you like to wear those pyjamas on your head to nursery?
Yes
Z, what are you doing?
Biting Frafer
What does that stone smell like?
Neck
Z, what would you like for dinner?
Honey
Who did Mummy's lovely Mother's Day present come from?
Shops
Z, why did you throw that ball at E's face?
S'a ball
All other questions should be answered with a resounding No. Or with another question.
It might be time to stop asking him questions.
Sunday, 8 March 2015
A note for my children on International Women's Day
I intended this post to be a note to my little girl - and then I remembered that I want my sons to be feminists too. I want my sons to understand what it means to be human and to embrace the difference that gender brings to that meaning. So here goes:
Be bold and ambitious - you are limited by the size of your dreams- dream big, work hard. Be nice to everyone, always, you don't know their full story. Be complex - you don't need to choose to be Audrey or Marilyn. You can have a career and a family, you can be successful and vulnerable, beautiful and intelligent, creative and logical. None of your life decions should close doors for you.
Be optimistic. Be adventurous. Say 'yes' as often as you can. If a situation feels wrong, listen to your instinct and get out of it. Never ignore your true voice. Don't be degraded or disrespected more than once.
Love women. They created every person on this planet with their bodies. Don't be prudish about childbirth, menstruation or breastfeeding - talk about it, be inspired. Never be embarrassed by sexual health, buying condoms or tampons - you are privileged to have open access to these things.
Speak your mind, even when you're at risk of causing offence - there is room enough in the word for everyone to have an opinion. Be thankful that yours is not decided for you. Do everything you can to minimise inequality, oppression or small mindedness. Embrace the future and everything it holds, especially change. Challenge yourself. Smile. Be courteous and smartly dressed - these things show that you respect convention. Then be unconventional. Love your siblings, they will be your lifelong allies.
Finally, when your Mum is preaching at you about all the things you should and shouldn't do - ask her how many of them she managed. Then give her a cuddle.
Be bold and ambitious - you are limited by the size of your dreams- dream big, work hard. Be nice to everyone, always, you don't know their full story. Be complex - you don't need to choose to be Audrey or Marilyn. You can have a career and a family, you can be successful and vulnerable, beautiful and intelligent, creative and logical. None of your life decions should close doors for you.
Be optimistic. Be adventurous. Say 'yes' as often as you can. If a situation feels wrong, listen to your instinct and get out of it. Never ignore your true voice. Don't be degraded or disrespected more than once.
Love women. They created every person on this planet with their bodies. Don't be prudish about childbirth, menstruation or breastfeeding - talk about it, be inspired. Never be embarrassed by sexual health, buying condoms or tampons - you are privileged to have open access to these things.
Speak your mind, even when you're at risk of causing offence - there is room enough in the word for everyone to have an opinion. Be thankful that yours is not decided for you. Do everything you can to minimise inequality, oppression or small mindedness. Embrace the future and everything it holds, especially change. Challenge yourself. Smile. Be courteous and smartly dressed - these things show that you respect convention. Then be unconventional. Love your siblings, they will be your lifelong allies.
Finally, when your Mum is preaching at you about all the things you should and shouldn't do - ask her how many of them she managed. Then give her a cuddle.
Monday, 23 February 2015
Never overlook the obvious...
Just had a hellish playdate - Z was a total menace and I spent all morning trying to figure out why he's being such a bad version of himself today.
Its an indication of how sleep deprived I am that I forgot to factor in the fact that he's poorly at the moment - with recurrent croup. He's full of cold and toddlers always misbehave when they are under the weather. But he's been a nightmare!
I just realised the treatment he was given yesterday for his croup was a steroid. They did mention he might be pumped up - I kind of forgot this would last for 48 hours.
I should have cancelled the playdate. I'm now amazed he was actually so good!
Moral of the story - toddler playmates are bad enough. Don't organise them when your toddler is on steroids. Certainly never organise a playdate when you have four month old twins and your toddler is on steroids. If you do organise a playdate when you've got 4 month old twins and a toddler on steroids, certainly don't attempt to make homemade butternut squash soup and homemade bread.
I'm going to spend the rest of the afternoon watching Frozen and hiding under a duvet.
Silly mummy.
Its an indication of how sleep deprived I am that I forgot to factor in the fact that he's poorly at the moment - with recurrent croup. He's full of cold and toddlers always misbehave when they are under the weather. But he's been a nightmare!
I just realised the treatment he was given yesterday for his croup was a steroid. They did mention he might be pumped up - I kind of forgot this would last for 48 hours.
I should have cancelled the playdate. I'm now amazed he was actually so good!
Moral of the story - toddler playmates are bad enough. Don't organise them when your toddler is on steroids. Certainly never organise a playdate when you have four month old twins and your toddler is on steroids. If you do organise a playdate when you've got 4 month old twins and a toddler on steroids, certainly don't attempt to make homemade butternut squash soup and homemade bread.
I'm going to spend the rest of the afternoon watching Frozen and hiding under a duvet.
Silly mummy.
Wednesday, 11 February 2015
I just want my babies to stay being babies....
Yesterday I had a shock. I had a friend over for lunch and she brought her two boys. The eldest I've known since he was about six months old. The first time I met him, we babysat him at work and he sat on my knee while I sent some emails and he was a cuddly, lovely, bundle of squidgyness.
Yesterday, he refused to give me a kiss goodbye, and when I said he was a good boy, he said "I'm not a good boy, I'm a cool boy". A cool boy??! Suddenly, and with startling clarity, I realised that my babies won't stay babies forever. And it broke my heart.
With Z, I've rushed to every developmental milestone, so keen to get to the next one. We started weaning on his four month birthday, he got his first shoes at ten months when he couldn't really walk. I've always pushed him to roll over, to sit up, to crawl. And now I want it all to slow down please.
He's so wonderful and cute and snuggly. He bosses me around at the moment "Sit here, Mummy" and takes my hand when we leave the front gate "Hand, Mummy". He needs me to wipe his nose, and his hands "Sticky Mummy". And one day he won't need me at all and I can't bear it.
I took the twins to a baby sensory class in Cheshire today and it was all bright lights, loud music, bits of cloth being shoved in their faces. And I recognise myself in the other pushy Mums of first born singletons. And I realised that I don't want the twins to have lots of sensory development - I want them to stay all tiny and delicious and to think that I am the universe for forever.
For the first time, I'm starting to feel like a Mum. Not just a keen intern who views this as a two year project. I'm starting to get that low down aching heart pain. And I suspect it's not going to get any easier.
And I really want my babies to stay babies forever.
I've seen and dismissed this poem on mumsnet etc before. And I think it's starting to make sense....*sobs*
"The Last Time"
From the moment you hold your baby in your arms you will never be the same
You might long for the person you were before
When you had freedom and time
And nothing in particular to worry about
You will know tiredness like you never knew it before
And days will run into days that are exactly the same
Full of feedings and burping
Nappy changes and crying
Whining and fighting
Naps or a lack of naps
It might seem like a never-ending cycle
But don’t forget….
There is a last time for everything
There will come a time when you will feed your baby for the very last time
They will fall asleep on you after a long day
And it will be the last time you ever hold your sleeping child
One day you will carry them on your hip then set them down
And never pick them up that way again
You will scrub their hair in the bath one night
And from that day on they will want to bathe alone
They will hold your hand to cross the road
Then never reach for it again
They will creep into your room at midnight for cuddles
And it will be the last night you ever wake to this
One afternoon you will sing “the wheels on the bus” and do all the actions
Then never sing them that song again
They will kiss you goodbye at the school gate
The next day they will ask to walk to the gate alone
You will read a final bedtime story and wipe your last dirty face
They will run to you with arms raised for the very last time.
The thing is, you won’t even know it’s the last time
Until there are no more times. And even then, it will take you a while to realise.
So while you are living in these times, remember there are only so many of them and when they are gone, you will yearn for just one more day of them.
For one last time.
Yesterday, he refused to give me a kiss goodbye, and when I said he was a good boy, he said "I'm not a good boy, I'm a cool boy". A cool boy??! Suddenly, and with startling clarity, I realised that my babies won't stay babies forever. And it broke my heart.
With Z, I've rushed to every developmental milestone, so keen to get to the next one. We started weaning on his four month birthday, he got his first shoes at ten months when he couldn't really walk. I've always pushed him to roll over, to sit up, to crawl. And now I want it all to slow down please.
He's so wonderful and cute and snuggly. He bosses me around at the moment "Sit here, Mummy" and takes my hand when we leave the front gate "Hand, Mummy". He needs me to wipe his nose, and his hands "Sticky Mummy". And one day he won't need me at all and I can't bear it.
I took the twins to a baby sensory class in Cheshire today and it was all bright lights, loud music, bits of cloth being shoved in their faces. And I recognise myself in the other pushy Mums of first born singletons. And I realised that I don't want the twins to have lots of sensory development - I want them to stay all tiny and delicious and to think that I am the universe for forever.
For the first time, I'm starting to feel like a Mum. Not just a keen intern who views this as a two year project. I'm starting to get that low down aching heart pain. And I suspect it's not going to get any easier.
And I really want my babies to stay babies forever.
I've seen and dismissed this poem on mumsnet etc before. And I think it's starting to make sense....*sobs*
"The Last Time"
From the moment you hold your baby in your arms you will never be the same
You might long for the person you were before
When you had freedom and time
And nothing in particular to worry about
You will know tiredness like you never knew it before
And days will run into days that are exactly the same
Full of feedings and burping
Nappy changes and crying
Whining and fighting
Naps or a lack of naps
It might seem like a never-ending cycle
But don’t forget….
There is a last time for everything
There will come a time when you will feed your baby for the very last time
They will fall asleep on you after a long day
And it will be the last time you ever hold your sleeping child
One day you will carry them on your hip then set them down
And never pick them up that way again
You will scrub their hair in the bath one night
And from that day on they will want to bathe alone
They will hold your hand to cross the road
Then never reach for it again
They will creep into your room at midnight for cuddles
And it will be the last night you ever wake to this
One afternoon you will sing “the wheels on the bus” and do all the actions
Then never sing them that song again
They will kiss you goodbye at the school gate
The next day they will ask to walk to the gate alone
You will read a final bedtime story and wipe your last dirty face
They will run to you with arms raised for the very last time.
The thing is, you won’t even know it’s the last time
Until there are no more times. And even then, it will take you a while to realise.
So while you are living in these times, remember there are only so many of them and when they are gone, you will yearn for just one more day of them.
For one last time.
Wednesday, 4 February 2015
That Freaky Clown Picture
I'm sure everyone does unusual things when they're pregnant. My have included, but are not limited to: genuinely thinking that what my ice-cream lacked was some gerkins and then feeling like a huge cliché, emailing 60 or so speakers in advance of an event with my incorrect contact number, leaving my laptop at airport security, in Tesco, in my hotel room.
During my second pregnancy I also purchased a creepily freaky painting of a clown from a charity shop which I decided would go in the "circus" themed nursery décor. (The only thing circus themed in the nursery is the clown picture) I thought that once it was reframed it would look less freaky.
As it turns out, once reframed it still looks hideous. I would regret my purchase if it weren't for the fact that all the kids seem to love it.
My toddler stands on the changing table and points to the animals.
The babies can't stop staring at it while they're getting their nappy changed.
It's totally genius. If you happen to be under the age of two, pregnant or have no taste whatsoever.
And if you can ignore the fact it's wonderfully weird.
During my second pregnancy I also purchased a creepily freaky painting of a clown from a charity shop which I decided would go in the "circus" themed nursery décor. (The only thing circus themed in the nursery is the clown picture) I thought that once it was reframed it would look less freaky.
As it turns out, once reframed it still looks hideous. I would regret my purchase if it weren't for the fact that all the kids seem to love it.
My toddler stands on the changing table and points to the animals.
The babies can't stop staring at it while they're getting their nappy changed.
It's totally genius. If you happen to be under the age of two, pregnant or have no taste whatsoever.
And if you can ignore the fact it's wonderfully weird.
Thursday, 8 January 2015
In the words of Coldplay, "Nobody said it was easy, No-one ever said it would be this hard..."
Once upon a time - not so very long ago, I was thinner, I had better clothes, and I like to think I was a little bit cool. Whatever I was, I was totally footloose and fancy free. I drank in bars(!). I went shopping at 9pm to "pick up something nice for dinner" (which we would eat at around 10pm). I lay in bed on a Sunday nursing a hangover all day. I read books all the way through. I went and had my nails done. I basically did whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.
And I shared this fantastic existence with my hubby. He is easy-going, low-maintenance and generally fun to be around. This life was easy. I did not know this life was easy, I in fact complained sometimes about how hard this life was.
Then, we had a baby. First, I was pregnant with a baby, and that was hard. And boring, and sober, and very fat-making. And I complained a lot about how hard that life was. And once we had our baby, we had a big shock. Because now everything was really truly difficult and tedious. We dealt with sleepless nights, the frustration of changing sheets five times in a 24 hour period. We had plans ruined, and all spontaneity taken away. We gave up on going to bars and eating out. We moved to the suburbs and bought more toys. And started wearing comfy shoes and making bread.
And then I had a second pregnancy. A twin pregnancy. And by the time you're 38 weeks pregnant with twins (both born at 7lbs) everything you've ever done before seems really easy.
And then we went from a little, easily contained family of three to a chaotic family of five overnight. And this is really, really hard. I don't really feel ready for how responsible I have to be, or prepared for how difficult it is.
And yet, I'm not sure I've ever been happier. I'm permanently covered in some kind of bodily fluid - or possibly all bodily fluids. I've given up covering up the bags under my eyes. I read the headlines of the newspapers in the shop and feel up to date with current affairs. I make Halloween costumes while breastfeeding, put toddlers shoes on while sitting on the loo, I do my pelvic floor exercises whilst making dinner, cradling a baby in one hand and singing "wheels on the bus" to a toddler and chatting to my Mum on speakerphone. This life is non-stop. It is challenging, and tiring, and monotonous. This life is filled with a million little things every day that make my heart melt. And I love it.
That said, if you could give me 48 hours to eat a meal in a restaurant, have a full night's sleep, read the Sunday papers and have a long, hot hair bath, I'd bite your ruddy hand off.
And I shared this fantastic existence with my hubby. He is easy-going, low-maintenance and generally fun to be around. This life was easy. I did not know this life was easy, I in fact complained sometimes about how hard this life was.
Then, we had a baby. First, I was pregnant with a baby, and that was hard. And boring, and sober, and very fat-making. And I complained a lot about how hard that life was. And once we had our baby, we had a big shock. Because now everything was really truly difficult and tedious. We dealt with sleepless nights, the frustration of changing sheets five times in a 24 hour period. We had plans ruined, and all spontaneity taken away. We gave up on going to bars and eating out. We moved to the suburbs and bought more toys. And started wearing comfy shoes and making bread.
And then I had a second pregnancy. A twin pregnancy. And by the time you're 38 weeks pregnant with twins (both born at 7lbs) everything you've ever done before seems really easy.
And then we went from a little, easily contained family of three to a chaotic family of five overnight. And this is really, really hard. I don't really feel ready for how responsible I have to be, or prepared for how difficult it is.
And yet, I'm not sure I've ever been happier. I'm permanently covered in some kind of bodily fluid - or possibly all bodily fluids. I've given up covering up the bags under my eyes. I read the headlines of the newspapers in the shop and feel up to date with current affairs. I make Halloween costumes while breastfeeding, put toddlers shoes on while sitting on the loo, I do my pelvic floor exercises whilst making dinner, cradling a baby in one hand and singing "wheels on the bus" to a toddler and chatting to my Mum on speakerphone. This life is non-stop. It is challenging, and tiring, and monotonous. This life is filled with a million little things every day that make my heart melt. And I love it.
That said, if you could give me 48 hours to eat a meal in a restaurant, have a full night's sleep, read the Sunday papers and have a long, hot hair bath, I'd bite your ruddy hand off.
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