My Son is a Racist Pervert

So I've blogged a few times about how amazing I'm finding Z's language development.  I've also been taking a fairly juvenile approach to his frequent mispronunciations.

Z was struggling with pronouncing 't' at around the time we moved him from a cot to a bed.  'T' was pronounced like a 'c'.  Oh, how we laughed:

"My c0ck"
"Bye bye c0ck"
"Baby c0ck"
"No c0ck"

Like I say, juvenile.

When Z says "thank you" it sometimes sounds like "c0ck you" I don't know how this can be, but it does make me giggle:

"C0ck you Granny"

You'd be amazed how often toddlers say the word "stick" and how many of them pronounce it like "sh1t":

"More sh1t"
"Look, sh1t here"
"Want more sh1t"
"No more sh1t, c0ck you"

It seems that whilst Z can't say 't' at the end of cot, he can put one on the end of the word "tip".  And can therefore be found at the front door whilst the car is being loaded for a trip to the local recycling centre shouting:

"T1t, Daddy, T1t"

But, my absolute fave so far came yesterday when Z said 'blackcurrant' for the first time.  He wanted some squash to drink and was storming around the kitchen yelling "I want blackcurrant"  It turns out he can't say the 'r's in this word.

Try saying "I want blackcurrant" with no 'r's and tell me that my son is not a racist pervert.

A Mum's Guide to The Internet

Before there was the Internet, Mums knew other Mums who lived nearby. And they knew their own Mum, their Gran and their friends.  And maybe they read a parenting book, or a magazine article, or watched a programme on the telly.  So what they knew was what they knew.  If they lived on a hippy commune in the countryside or an inner city terraced house, they knew what was around them.

The Internet has opened our eyes to tremendous possibility, but as a parent that can often also mean tremendous pressure. We're exposed to lots of stuff that we don't know, or didn't know, but we feel we ought to know.

Without the Internet, parenting tribes would never have gathered, we would parent as our parents did, as our friends did.  We wouldn't need to stress about our lack of vegan food and yoga. Or that the kids had too many toys. Or that they had their dummies too long. We would look to our community, cross reference the few styles we could see and mimic them.

If I lived close to my mother and grandmother and had no Internet, I certainly wouldn't have heard of hypnobirthing or baby-led weaning.

So what do we do now that we know what we know? We can't be all types of parent. We can't on-board all the information out there and come up with anything useful, so how do we learn, open our eyes, embrace new possibilities but not become overwhelmed? And most importantly, not let it affect how we think of our own ability to parent or how we think of ourselves.

1. Be authentic - if you really do like vegan food and yoga, and you really want your kids to take part - do that. But if you actually don't mind them eating a McDonald's burger, don't feel guilty about it. Don't be afraid to talk authentically about your choices and don't judge others.

2. Listen to your Mum - or your Gran and the older women in your life. They really have seen it all before. They are your best support and whilst they don't use the same terms, they're quite often saying the same things as you. They probably aren't on the Internet. That's part of why their opinions are valuable.

3. Remember it's about the kids. What kind of parent you are is irrelevant really - what kind of children you have is what counts - are they kind, and honest, and polite? That's probably more important than whether or not they co-sleep.

4. Don't compare. Everyone has an Internet 'game face' and if you're looking at your real life, on a bad day, and someone else's organic crafting blog, it's not like for like.  And it will only make you feel worse. Learn from the Internet communities you love, don't get caught in a trap of comparisons.

5. Get off the computer/ get your face out of your phone. And breathe, and enjoy the moment and the company around you. Look really closely at your kids, in that moment, and then decide what they do or don't need.

6. Embrace inconsistency. Some days you'll feel like you nailed it. Some days you'll walk down the street sobbing into your greasy hair while your babies wail. That's the way it goes. Don't pretend. And don't worry.

7. Make friends. In the real world, or over the Internet, find other Mums you love and admire, and learn from them. Are they Mums who love gin? Or outdoorsy Mums?  Choose your peers wisely and let them enhance your journey.

Got anything to add? Pop a comment below.

Being Two Years and One Month is Irrestibly Delicious (apart from the Drooling)

This little guy turned two at the beginning of April, and a whole world of cuteness has suddenly opened up in the form of him speaking a lot more.  He's also getting his molars through so I've had quite a few "not very maternal" moments.  And am permanently covered in drool.

I'm Turner and he's Hooch.

Cute things that he has said in the past month include but are not limited to:

"Where are you going?" "Shops"
"Are you taking the dinosaur toys?" "Yes"
"What do they need from the shops?" "Biscuits"

"Mmm, these (completely imaginary) cakes are delicious, what did you make them with?"
"Hands"

"What was that noise?"
(without looking up) "Faaart"

(Trying to get his Polish Grandad to dance)
"Come on Dzadzio"

(When I do something that meets his approval)
"Well done Mummy" "Clever Mummy" "Yes, Mummy" "Good, Mummy"

(When I do something that does not meet his approval)
"No, Mummy" "Silly Mummy" "Daddy, my Daddy"

(When he's filled his nappy)
"Daaady, Poooooo"

His insistence on saying "Hello" and "Bye bye" to everything - cats, cars, "A moon", "A man" and anyone who leaves the room.

I've just re-read this post and realised it's not that interesting, but I don't really care because I think it's adorable and hilarious.

I probably need to get out more.

And stop making references to little remembered 80's cop-dog buddy movies.

Now where's my copy of K-9?

Have I got another one in me?........

A friend recently said she had her third child, despite quite an age gap "because she just felt like she had another one in her"

This is, I think, a great way to describe the greedy, greedy biological clock that is my body.

In the words of R Kelly, "my mind's telling me no, but my body's telling me yes....."

We have three amazing babies.  I survived two pregnancies virtually painlessly.  We are all happy and healthy.  A family of five is enough to feel big without being unmanageable.  We haven't priced ourselves out of nice family holidays.  We're outnumbered but we can handle it.  My body is getting back to normal, I'm running again. The planet is already over-populated enough.

My brain tells me all of these things.

My tragic, melodramatic body says

"But you'll never breastfeed again, you'll never have the joy of growing a human being inside you, you'll never go through childbirth again, you'll never again hold your tiny newborn in your arms and feel all the love in the world"*

Hmmm.

I'm feeling incredibly empathetic towards those women in their thirties whose bodies turn against them.  There they are, enjoying good careers, fancy clothes, casual relationships and lots of lovely wine when suddenly, their treacherous body starts demanding they sniff babies heads and browse the Little White Company catalogue.

Ugh.  Yet again, being a woman has some stinking downsides.

I'm going to keep ignoring my ridiculous, demanding ovaries and the voice of baby number four (I think she's blonde and called Matilda) and crack on with looking after the three I've got. 

And one day, I might be able to persuade myself that three really is enough.  Probably the next time I'm in Clarks buying shoes....

*My body knows full well that I hate being pregnant, breastfeeding makes me feel like a dairy cow and I was so tired/ drugged up after having babies by "assisted" means that I never got that "moment" with any of them.

A 10 minute blog

I've got a work call at 9 and the babies are asleep.  I'm all set up "business-like" with a coffee and clean hair to talk about my return to work.

I'm 10 minutes early so I thought I'd quickly tap out some words and see how far I get in that time.

I was thinking yesterday about the things you could add to your CV if maternity leave was considered valid work experience.

Productivity would definitely rate very highly.  I have learnt to be so much more productive with my time since having kids.  I'm much more realistic about what can be achieved in allocated periods of time. 

We add complications to our lives over the years - ask any woman with a full time job, a few kids, nice hair and good relationship - your life is so full, its fit to burst.  To keep juggling all the elements effectively, no minute can be wasted.  It's as though everyone in your life is billing by the hour and you're the client watching the budget like a hawk.

I don't take sugar in my tea any more - it was taking too long.

I like multi functional beauty products.

I look for kids clothes that don't have fiddly buttons.

I cook one pot meals.

I can write a short blog post in 10 minutes.

Feeling Empowered to Call My Babies Dicks

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. 

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.