Mother, Mum, Mummy, Mom, Mommy, Ma, Mamma, Mammy, Momma. Whilst it sounds like I’m trying to do my best impression of Stewie Griffin from Family Guy, I’m simply just listing the many alternative names for the main woman in your life, or by the name you are possibly so regularly referred to as (and believe me it’s used to the max at times).
So what do we define as a mother? Someone who loves you and brings you up with affection and care from day dot, a person who has unconditional love for her child, a woman who will nurture and provide for her young? All of these are what you’d expect to be true, however some people out there may have a different view based on personal experience.
Sadly there are a number of babies born into a world without a loving family, which absolutely breaks my heart and I’m sure yours too. But luckily there are many amazing people out there, who whilst they might not have been through pregnancy, physical pain, or gas and air, they have given these children what they needed the most…love.
There are mums out there who beat themselves up on a regular basis for not being that ‘perfect’ Instagram mum they see feeding their child organic chicken and quinoa salad and a full boob of fresh breastmilk; for the fact they just shouted at their child for jumping on the sofa for the fiftieth time; or because they turned their back for a second and ended up in A&E. The term for this is mum guilt. Believe me I know. Regardless of these occasional mum guilt moments, they have given their children what they needed the most…love.
For the mums who sadly didn’t have enough chance or time with their babies/children, they have given and will continue to give them what they needed the most…love.
It matters not if they have or haven’t the same blood running through their veins, if they’re on Earth or in the clouds, a mother’s love is never ending.
I love my husband dearly, he’s my rock, and all that lovey dovey blurb… but some nights I want nothing more than to roundhouse him to the floor! (Before you start, I don’t condone violence and I would never actually do it, but imagining it in the style of a Peter Griffin/Family Guy cut away clip makes it ok, right?).
Tonight is a prime example. The two children (I’d once lovingly lugged around like an overweight gorilla for 18 long months, propelled into the world in the most undignified and painful way from my noo noo, and sacrificed my once pert boobs to) have told me more than enough times this evening, “No Mummy I don’t want you I want Daddyyyyyyy!!!” accompanied with a scowl the grumpy cat would be proud of.
Granted, it’s not entirely Daddy’s fault he is awesome and very cuddly, but it still doesn’t stop me from wanting to get all Chuck Norris on his ass!
All I wanted was a cuddle, but instead I got a wriggling octopus with a one word Daddy Dictionary. Grrr!
So yes, I’ll put my hands up and admit it. I’m jealous! How does he do it? Am I doing something wrong? Am I too strict? Is it because I’ve gone back to work and they’re mad at me? Is it because they genuinely don’t love me as much? #mumguilt
In all honestly I don’t know why. I am however starting to realise that life as a family isn’t all Von Trap sing-alongs whilst parading through the meadows hand in hand, and I’d question anyone who said otherwise.
The faultless pictures you see on Instagram aren’t real. Mr and Mrs Perfect’s model family photo frolicking in a strawberry field was probably taken on their twenty second attempt on account of joyful Johnny shoving strawberries up his nose and sweet Susie flashing her knickers for the thirtieth time.
Before we had the boys I remember saying to people “We never argue, we get on so well, we’re best mates, blah blah blah“. Post kids, were still best mates, but argue? We do now. I’m not talking the dramatic Eastenders throwing plates at the wall “Ger art of ma pub!” type arguing, but we do have our disagreements and fall outs like most people. Why? Here’s a bit of parental maths:
Another thing that adds to the ‘parent crap’ is the resentment. I never thought I’d resent their Daddy for going to work, but I remember thinking he was staying late at work to check out the hot toned girls who actually had time for the gym (unlike his baby bellied wife). I thought it was his way to avoid the crazy bedtime routine, but in actual reality he was working his backside off to pay bills and keep his job.
On the flip side he resented me for staying at home with his two little boys having all of that time to make memories whilst he was at work. A vicious cycle. The only way to avoid it crumbling is to tell yourself your both in it together. You’re a team. A family team.
So whether my little snot rockets are Daddy’s boys or Mummy’s boys it doesn’t matter, we’re a team, a unit, and they will have our undying love until the day we are no more.
(Seriously though kids, you best start giving me more cuddles or Daddy’s never going to get another cup of tea).
I’m very proud to be part of the Meet Other Mums #blogsquad you can find my original blog on their fantastic webpage http://meetothermums.com
We’ve had this very posh plonk for nearly a year so it seemed wrong not to drink it on a night away from parental duties.
Will it be drunk on a yacht whilst bikini clad babes and six pack toned hunks parade their assets whilst listening to the latest funky house beats from a French DJ spotting a man bun and ray bans?
No, it will be drunk lukewarm from plastic wine glasses in a standard double hotel room (bought through Groupon of course, we’re not made of money you know) whilst watching the Chase and Pointless. Why I hear you ask? Because that’s how we roll, it’s time to wind down, and quite honestly we’ve forgotten what it’s like not to be asked for cheese and juice every two minutes.
Gone are the days of bikini clad yacht posing (although if I’m honest I’ve never done it, the closest I ever got was having a cup of tea on the ferry to Bruges). This is reality, and I’m good with that.
Like many little girls, Belle was always the Disney princess I aspired to be. Beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, and kind. Let’s not forget that amazing dress and the fact she got her Prince Charming in the end (Well after a miraculous shave and a crash diet).
So did I turn out to be the beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful and kind Belle? In a word… no, although I’d like to think I’ve mastered the thoughtful and kind element. The other two aspects are very much debatable.
I didn’t get the big swishy dress, but one thing I did manage to do was bag my very own Beast Prince Charming, and I’m happy to report he has much less fur and less bitey teeth. He’s pretty crap at timekeeping and I’m relatively sure he has a mild to medium form of narcolepsy, but all of that aside he’s definitely a keeper.
Life is good, but bloody hell it’s hard and certainly not the fairytale I dreamt of as a young girl. That said I can’t help but wonder what Belle would have been like after she had been married to the Beast for five years with two little mini Beasts in tow.
So in true Disney style below is my interpretation (with a bit of a Yorkshire twang) of Belle’s song with a more realistic angle. Feel free to sing along.
Little house, in a quiet village
Every day like the one before
Little house full of whingey people
Waking up to say…
There goes the toddler waking up, like always
The same old whines and moans to yell
Every morning just the same
At 6am mini beasts came
To see a poor tired parents frown
Good morning Belle
Good morning Daddy, er I mean Beast
Where are you off to?
Aldi, I need to pick up some strong coffee, nappies, wipes, milk and bread.
That’s nice. Can you get me some sandwich meats for lunch? LITTLE BEAST!! Stop poking me in the head
Look, there she goes
The lass is strange, no question
Dazed and distracted, can’t you tell?
Never part of any crowd
Cause her head’s up on some cloud
No denying she’s a mummy now, that Belle
How is your family?
How is your wife?
I need….a Greggs
That’s too expensive! *What Greggs?!
There must be more than this abysmal* life!
*Ok so abysmal is a tad extreme but I was struggling to find something to rhyme
Man at the Library:
Good morning. I’ve come to return the kids book I borrowed
Man at the Library:
Yes I’ve read it to them at least a hundred times and they still aren’t bored yet. Please tell me you’ve got something else?
Man at the Library:
Not since yesterday
That’s alright. Ok then we’ll borrow this one (After an argument with toddler over said book as it’s not the right colour or size)
Man at the Library:
That one? But you’ve read it twice!
What Charlie Cooks Favourite Book? Yes it’s my favourite, I like doing all the voices; my pirate and knight are especially impressive.
Man at the Library:
Well if you like it all that much, it’s yours
Really? What actually free? What’s the catch? I mean do you need my email address or something so you can constantly spam me?
Man at the Library:
No catch, I insist!
Nice one, ta very muchly!
Look, there she goes, that lass is super human
I wonder if she’s feeling well
She seems a little snappy
Because her nose is in a nappy
She needs to be an octopus that Belle
Ewwww…isn’t this disgusting?
It’s my least best part of being mummy
Here’s where I see the bogies
Crusting on my newly washed leggings
On both my knees!
Now it’s a wonder why her name means “beauty”
Her looks are fuelled on Zinfandel
But behind that zombie plod
I’m afraid she feels a fraud
Very distant from the rest of us
Group of mums:
She’s struggling like the rest of us
Yes, normal like the rest of us is Belle
The next part is traditionally sung by Gaston and Lefou, but for the purposes of this it shall be sang by the beast and Trevor (yes I totally made that up) his best friend.
Wow you look knackered Beast. Are you tired?
I know, yes I’m exhausted. I’m always working, the kids are non-stop and Belle does not stop nagging at me
Oh dear, it doesn’t sound like the fairytale it used to be
I know I still really love her but she just seems to have lost her mojo
Does she not still have that flouncy gold dress?
No she mostly lives in snot and food stained clothes and never wears matching bra and knickers.
But she was…
The most beautiful girl in town? She was but now she has more hair on her legs than I ever did
That bad huh?
Yes well since she had the kids I’ve been put to the bottom of the pile
Go on then tell me about it
Right from the moment when the kids were born
The trouser kisses were just shelved
Although I must agree
She makes a nice hot tea
So I need to re-woo and de-hairy Belle
Group of mums:
Look Beast it’s hard to be a mummy
Hey Beast it’s hard to be a wife
Give her a chance, she feels like screaming
It’s not the perfect mummy kind of life!
She’s shoving cake in
You need some wipes!
It’s real life
There’s too much poo!!
Woman 2: …
…They smell of hamsters
There must be more than this abysmal* life!
*Once again, a bit harsh, and purely for rhyming slackness
I’m so proud to call lovely Belle my wife! (Even if she does look a bit of a bugger and nags a lot)
Life as a mum can be a little stressful
Often a challenge not to yell
I used to be quite slim
Pass the tonic and the gin
It’s super being a mummy
Bar the wobbly wibbly tummy
Yes I do love being a mummy…..it’s just swell! (Well most of the time)
*Hate’s a very strong word, I much prefer ‘dislike’ or ‘don’t really enjoy’, but let’s face it they wouldn’t have the same ring would they?
This is in no way related to Heath Ledger or Julia Stiles, no this is my honest take on why having two children can be, well shall we say – challenging. I often look back to when I had the one and there’s no doubt about it, it was hard, bloody hard, but if I really think about it I had so much more opportunity to nap and watch This Morning than I do now. Oh how I miss you Phil and Holly.
So here are the 10 things I ‘don’t really enjoy’ about having two little people.
1. It’s about as rare as an eclipse when both children have a nap at the same time. The only way it’s possible (or at least in my experience) is to drive around in the car playing Classic FM like a 95 year old lady called Doris on her way to the local garden centre. Believe me it works.
The difficulty then is managing to get them both successfully out of the car and transferred into their beds. It almost always ends with one of them waking up, so the feet up – cup of coffee in hand – Come Dine with Me afternoon session I had ambitiously planned is swiftly cancelled. Don’t get me wrong I absolutely love playing and chasing around after my boys but just 30 mins peace without having to answer one hundred and one questions would be lovely. In reality what do I do when the ‘rare eclipse’ strikes? I clean and tidy.
2. Multi-tasking like you’ve never multi-tasked before. It’s a skill we have to adopt because we have no other choice. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve been in a situation where one hand is wiping a poopy bum and the other’s preventing the toddler from doing his best impression of Eddie the Eagle. Parents have to have reflexes like a cat. I’ve never felt more like a ninja in my life. 3. My toddler hasn’t quite grasped the fact his younger brother isn’t a toy. There have been a few occasions where I’ve caught him riding his brother like a sad donkey on the beach. The words ‘gentle‘, ‘careful‘ or the phrase ‘get off your brother‘ have never been used as much. 4. Two lots of I nappies (granted not all of you will have this issue, some of you sensibly waited). I remember one particular morning changing six nappies after only been up for an hour. How is it possible for such small people to produce so much poo? Nowadays my toddler is toilet trained so this thankfully is no longer an issue. Just the one set of nappies to deal with, phew!
However, this has now brought around a new ‘challenge’. My son always chooses incredibly inconvenient times to do a ‘poo dance’ and announce loudly for all to hear “I need a poo!” mainly when I’ve either got his baby brother fast asleep in my arms (after a long time of him fighting sleep), or when we’re out and we’ve just conveniently sat down with lunch, only to have to awkwardly abandon it and single handedly juggle belongings, a baby, and a wincing toddler to a tiny loo. Let’s face it the poo was never going to be a good thing was it?5. One of the hardest challenges for a parent is to get through the day without getting some form of food or bodily function smeared on their clothing. As the ‘owner’ of two boys, this tends to involve a lot snot, where the chuff does it all come from? If snot could be mined they could make a base at our house, and I would be one rich lady.
With two boys in tow I have double the smearage occurrence and quadruple the amount of household washing to deal with. I love spending my days filling the washer and drier (said no mum ever!). Although it has to be said I’ve become more accustomed (doesn’t have any other option so has just accepted) having that extra accessory of banana smear, or snot splatter. Who knows it could catch on. I’ll wait for your call Vivienne.6. The noise, oh god the noise. The decibel level has certainly escalated since we first moved into our new house. At that time we had a relatively quite one and a half year old and I was seven months pregnant (yes I know we didn’t mess about, and yes moving when heavily pregnant was not the most exhilarating moment of my life, it was flaming stressful). So I imagine our neighbour thought we were a nice quiet little family to live next door to. Wrong!
The first noise worthy experience he had to endure was listening to me whining and mooing like a cow at 4am as the contractions were kicking in – one hospital trip later and BOOM! Welcome to Noisetown.
My youngest was a pretty chilled baby and sound sleeper, however the standard loud hungry baby cries he did at all hours of the night/morning weren’t the most enjoyable. If the mother and father of the child struggle to cope with the noise then I can’t imagine the neighbour was loving it much either.
Next on the noise counter was my fast growing toddler who mastered the fine (but not very likeable) art of winging. Again if even the mother of the child can’t appreciate their own flesh and bloods constant “I don’t wannnntttt thaaaaaattttt!“, “I wannnntttt thaaaaaattttt!“, “Noooooooooooooo“, “Whaaaaaaaaaaaa!“, then my poor bugger of a neighbour certainly isn’t going to either. To compliment the winging there’s also the occasional (OK then, daily) case of ‘parent losing their shit’ noise.
But those still aren’t the worst of the noises he has to endure. No, the worse noise can usually be heard around 7:20pm – 7:30pm, and comes from the mouth of the lesser spotted singing mum, also known as me attempting to sing Feed the Birds to the boys. (Less Mary Poppins more Makeit Stoppins). So I’m sorry neighbour, I’d love to tell you it’s going to quieten down, but the reality is soon there will be two wingers once my little one enters the twonager/threenager zone. I’ve heard Boots sell some pretty good earplugs, you may want to invest.
7. Both of my son’s have an obsession with hiding things. If I could compare them to an animal they would be squirrels. Squirrels hide nuts, well my children hide just about anything they can get their hands on. On occasion the selected object in question has rather inconveniently been my keys, and always on a day when I’m in a rush to get out of the house. When my eldest was about twenty months old I caught him looking rather sheepish whilst standing near my relatively expensive speakers. Having remembered music was starting to sound a bit tinny, I put two and two together and decided to get my Mrs Marple head on. After shining a torch in the back of the speaker I discovered a plethora of items, I’m talking pens, golf balls, small knick knacks, toys, cars, a stylus, you name it, it was in there. After a lot of vigorous shaking and probing with some BBQ tongs the little hoarders stash had been retrieved. The speakers have never fully recovered, but they’re now out of reach from the ‘little squirrels’.
8. I am a nag nag. A double nag. One of my most used words is “No”, along with the phrases, “Please don’t do that”, “Get off that”, “Can you stop doing that please?”. This is one of the parts of motherhood I really don’t enjoy, in fact I’d go as far to say I actually hate it. I really didn’t want to be a naggy mum but when one of your children is constantly pressing the sky record button (we have a lot of random Part Rec programmes in our planner), whilst the other decides it’s a good idea to smudge his bananarey hands all over the sofa, then Mrs Naggy McNaggyson from Nagthorpe has to make an appearance. In the past I’ve read a few articles about alternative ways to say no, but when your kid’s about to jump off the top of the slide head first “Please could you refrain from jumping off the top of the slide darling” just doesn’t cut the mustard, because ultimately the kids probably already committed to it, then cue a mammoth wait in A&E and a potential mark on the social services risk register. However nagging does have it’s uses, let’s face it if there was no such thing as nagging then there would be a lot of unpaid bills, and half done jobs (not a dig to you hubby obviously😂).
9. You have to choose. I don’t mean as to which child is your favourite (that varies on behaviour obviously), I mean there are situations where you have to balance out their needs and make an on the spot decision. I’d liken it to a game of Top Trumps. For this example I shall rename it ‘Tot Trumps’. ‘Toddler doing poo dance’ vs ‘Baby touching TV remote’. Now let’s see the stats:
Toddler Doing Poo Dance
Risk Factor: 95
Danger Level: 95
Whinge Volume: 85
Baby Touching TV Remote
Risk Factor: 60
Danger Level: 20
Whinge Volume: 65
The toddlers needs win on this occasion. Deleting an unwanted programme on the Sky planner not a problem, having to scrape poo off the living room floor? I’ll pass thanks. 10. When we just had the one baby waking up in the night, the hubby and I were a little more inclined to leave him for a bit to ‘cry it out’, or at least do that thing most couples do and have a ‘stand off’ (or should that be ‘lay off’) and wait for the other to make the move. Nowadays as soon as a hint of a decent cry emerges we’re quicker than Mo Farah after eating a bowl full of Quorn to react and ensure their cries don’t wake the other. After all what’s worse than a child waking up at 2am the night before you’re up early for work? Two children awake at 2am the night before you’re up early for work. So there you have it, those are my 10 Things I ‘Hate’ About Two, but it’s not all Tot Trumps, squirrels and noise. The tight Yorkshire lass in me is incredibly happy that we saved a flipping fortune on clothes and toys etc. Even though I know the pain of a second child all too well (having to endure the bobbly unfashionable hand me downs, getting the second hand bike, etc.) I’m now the sensible(ish) parent trying to be careful with money, so I’m pleased the clothes we bought and gratefully received for my first born have been used again and they’ve both got their wear out of them.
Ultimately the best thing about having two children is that my son has now got a buddy to share his childhood with. He has a friend, a best mate, a Robin to his Batman, an Ant to his Dec, and vice versa. Watching them play together is a wonderful thing, it makes me go all mushy (when they’re not having the “I was playing with that”, “Mummy, he took it off me” sharing issues).
We’ve made two beautiful boys and we couldn’t be prouder, even though our house permanently smells like farts.
Men love boobs that no longer defy gravity and give sad fried eggs a run for their money.
The bath is the holy grail – a place where no one can interrupt, nag, whinge at or bother you. A no rubber duck zone, only candles, bubbles (of the bath and prosecco type) and chilled anthems allowed.
Un-shaved legs are super sexy. Men love that extra layer of cosiness.
Black leggings are the height of fashion, especially if splattered with sick, bogeys, drool, and any general food remnants.
Saying “No” or “Aah aah aah” will instantly stop any babies/children in their tracks – immediate obedience and mischief is deterred.
Cbeebies is presented by the cast of Magic Mike.
NCT classes and the like offer wine and cake instead of tea and coffee.
All children’s bedroom doors have invisible force fields to prevent any pre 7am visits and parent bed invasions.
Every kitchen has an invisible layer of regenerative cling film on the kitchen floor, so after feeding time you simply whip it away and boom, the mountain of crumbs is gone. No crawling on your hands and knees or dust pans and brushes required.
The TV remote also has a child mode with a volume button (no more wheels on the bus at 6am on a Sunday morning after your first night out with the girls); a pause button (for when you need to get a few jobs done, have a wee, or sit down and enjoy a cuppa without it going cold); a rewind button (to enjoy and re-live those funny and special moments); a fast forward button (to zoom past those whingy, tantruming, and generally difficult moments); a play button (making the children in your life happily sit and play without a single utterance of “That’s mine“, “I was playing with that!“, “Mummy he’s/she’s playing with my toy“); an info button (a synopsis explaining the baby/child’s current mood, thoughts, and feelings); a help button (used to provide useful information on how to resolve any meltdowns and general issues with minimal fuss); and a record button (to make a permanent record of all the magical times we’ve shared with our little people, so we can reminisce in years to come).
We can all keep dreaming can’t we? It’s nice to dream.
It’s Christmas Day, ready to burst from feasting on umpteen sprouts (pppparrrrppp), lashings of mash, spoonfuls of stuffing, and enough turkey to feed a baby T-Rex, we all plonk ourselves down on the sofa with a Prosseco in hand (apart from the kids of course, they had beer, just kidding!) The kids were happily playing with their new toys and gifts whilst we lovingly watched them. Without realising the time had slipped away my mum starts giving the indication they’re going to think about making a move, not a chance, tis the season to be jolly and all that. As a result my barmaid alter ego jumped to a start, and glasses were quickly filled (that should hold them a little longer), then cue my other alter ego, DJ Wobbles (Wobbles by name wobbles by nature, especially after a few bubbles).
With Spotify at my disposal I proceeded to put some tunes on to get them into the ‘Christmas spirit’. I started my musical journey with Sash! taking us back to 1997 playing classics such as Equador, Stay and Encore Une Fois, they may be 18 years old but they’d still get the young uns up dancing I have no doubt. My parents took a liking to Sash! during my teen years and have still been known to dance around their living room to it, so this had to be a surefire winner. DJ Wobbles 1 – 0 Parents.
Next let’s turn it up a notch and open up for requests. One sure fire way to win people over with music is to allow them to make requests and let the memories flow. If there’s one thing that can spark a memory off, it’s music. So there we were transported back to the days of my long haired rocker of a dad listening to the likes of Yes, Cream, and Derek and the Dominos. One thing I can confirm is that my dad has good choice in music. Who can deny it with the acoustic riffs from songs such as Layla, Roundabout, and Sunshine Of Your Love. So from such epic music what did DJ Wobbles put on next? Whip Nae Nae of course, yes I know terrible terrible music, and such a drastic change, but my son can’t half bust a move to it, and yes for a moment I was that pushy ‘look at what my son can do’ mum I always said I wouldn’t be. Next two more of his favourites, Sugarhill Gang – Rappers Delight and Apache, we had to let him have a bit of the limelight, and boy did he steal it. Ashley Banjo, watch your back 😉
Next a few numbers for my very glamorous mum, a bit of Donna Summer, Hot Stuff. A classic and it will never cease to remind me of the brilliant moment in The Full Monty when they’re all queueing up and thrusting. On the back of the 70’s vibe we moved onto the fantastic and very catchy Earth, Wind, and Fire – September, then up to the 80’s with a bit of Borderline by Madonna with the necessary sprinkling of the wonderful Michael Jackson all teamed with my questionable and probably incredibly crap looking dance moves. All dance moves were learnt courtesy of my favourite Wii game, The Michael Experience. (Hopefully my neighbours haven’t had to witness this too, although my son was once on the receiving end of the Wii controller due to my rather enthusiastic ‘Heeeheee!’ move. Sorry son). Anyway I digress.
So next we moved onto our wedding songs, meaning the tone softened especially when my dad whispered in my ear “Play Carly Simon – Love of My Life, your mum will like that“. If you haven’t heard this song then I can’t urge you enough to listen to it. It’s so beautiful. The song was inspired by her children.
From the moment I first saw you,
The second that you were born,
I knew that you were the love of my life,
Quite simply the love of my life
As I listened to the lyrics snuggled with my baby I looked over at my dad who was cuddling and singing the song to my toddler. I remembered my dad singing in the same way to me as a little girl, and do you know what it doesn’t really seem that long ago. Time simply goes too quickly. It’s only since I’ve had my boys that I’ve started to understand this. I remember when I was pregnant people always used to say “Treasure it, time goes so quickly“, it used to get right on my baps, but they were right, it’s so true.
So anyway, there I was listening to the beautiful lyrics and reminiscing, then my eyes leaked (yep I cried like a baby), now it’s very likely Prosecco had a certain influence as it does in many a moment, but I was so happy to be sharing Christmas with some of the most loved people in my life, my boys, husband and parents. I felt lucky we were all sharing that moment together as it could have been a different story a few years ago, thankfully it wasn’t. That’s all well and good for me I know, unfortunately some are not so fortunate and my heart truly goes out to them. This is why we really have to make the most of our lives, and not take our family and friends for granted, we just don’t know when it might all change.
That moment also made me realise my babies are growing up so quickly and before I know it I’ll be the grandparent singing to my grandchild (but yeah let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves).
Basically it was an episode of Back to the Future but without Doc, a Hoverboard, or clocktower in sight. I was Martina McFly blasted back to the past as a little girl seeing my mum and dad care and nurture for me like I’m doing now for my boys. The realisation that they’ve been there and done it all for me and my sister. All the times they’ve wiped my backside (as a baby of course), cleaned up my sick (again as a baby with the occasional later life mishap I’m sure), told me not to touch ornaments and had a cheeky response back, had to deal with a moody teenager that would have given Kevin (and Perry) a run for his money, and worried themselves sick about me one night as I hadn’t come home at curfew only to find I was at a ‘lock in’ at the local caravan site pub until 2.30am because I was trying to look ‘cool’ and be accepted. I didn’t end up looking ‘cool’ as I remember walking back to the caravan with my ‘friends’ and seeing a tall silhouette holding an umbrella walking towards us at a fast pace, it was my dad and I was in big trouble. Dad 1-0 Streetcred. Looking back I cringe because I now know how they must’ve felt. Their baby who they’d lovingly brought up could have been in the bottom of a ditch, luckily I wasn’t, I was completely oblivious, just a moody teenager who wanted acceptance. So now as a thirty something mum of two, I want to apologise to my mum and dad for all of the times I’ve hurt, scared, or worried you. I now fully understand why you wouldn’t occasionally let me go out, or nagged me about not smoking and doing drugs (which I have never done as a result), because you love me, and even now, I’m still your baby.
You moulded me into the person I am today (which I think is a good, bar the odd dozy remark or situation), so thank you and I hope we can raise our boys in the same way you did with my sister and I.
So as I sat there and listened to the lyrics I realised the love of my life isn’t just my husband*, or the two little men in my life**, it’s my parents, my sister, my extended family, and my friends. They are all the love of my life. All for different reasons, but I love them so much and I am very lucky they are part of my life.
One of the reasons I’ve wrote this is because I’m not really capable of saying something like this directly to them without crying, and I’m not talking one of those beautiful single tear cries like in the movies or like Sinead O’Connor on the Nothing Compares music video, I’m talking full blown sobbing where my face goes red and puffy like I’ve had 10 rounds in the ring with Mike Tyson, not attractive.
So here it is (you know who you are), you are the love(s) of my life.
*A man who puts up with me and my random brain farts on a daily basis, a man who could probably make Kanye West smile/laugh (no mean feat), a man who once fell asleep reading my blog (thanks for your support our lad), a man who still after all these years makes me weak at the knees, a man who is without a doubt my soulmate.
** My wonderful little poop machines, in the words of Jerry Maguire “You complete me“. I often look at them both in complete amazement. How did we create such smiley, funny, and handsome little people? They truly are a delight, then the baby voms and proceeds to create a masterpiece Tracy Emin would be proud of by wafting his hands in it, all done whilst the other farts and says “Might be a motorbike” (he’s mastered the art of denial already). Sick and trumps aside, one thing I’m sure of is I love the bones of those little men and will until the day I am no more.