How Do You Find The Time...

If you've clicked this link looking for clever lifestyle tips or life hacks... you'll probably want to click away now. I don't really have any clever tips. Sorry about that.

I'm a single mother; I work from home; I maintain (what I'd like to think is) a successful blog. People are forever asking me how I have the time to bake biscuits with S - or make a kick ass Easter bonnet for nursery. One person did rather sniffily ask me how I find time for housework.

Here is how I manage to find the time to do the things that matter:

The things that matter come first in this house.

Now, I'm fully aware that what matters can differ from household to household, person to person. In this house, cleaning and tidying are fairly close to the bottom of the list. I believe that when my child grows up, she will remember afternoons spent sitting on the kitchen work surface making biscuits, not how often the bath was cleaned. 

Here are a few things I do that allow me more time to do the fun stuff (and the blogging and the obsessive West Wing watching):

• I only wash up once a day. There are only two of us here, and there are plenty of plates and cups to last us a day, so we pile it neatly next to the sink, and I wash up after S has gone to bed.

• I never read the instruction manual, so I've made an executive decision to just assume my oven is self-cleaning.

• I make piles of things at the bottom and top of the stairs. Every time I go up or down, I take something with me, and put it where it belongs.

• Similarly, I keep my recycling in a pile, and take a little of it down to the bins every time I go out without S (when she's with me, it's just not worth the effort!)

• S has a shower instead of a bath. She enjoys splashing under the water, and I can use the time to potter about on the landing, sorting washing and tidying the toys that are usually left hanging about.

• My housework is done on a "critical mass" basis. Everything is left until it can't possibly be left any more, and then tackled in a massive spree. I'll often have the washing machine and tumble dryer running for 2 days solidly, and then not use it again for a week or so.

• When S has nursery the next morning, as soon as she's in bed I get her clothes ready for the next day. I bring a pair of trousers, two tops and two pairs of socks (so that she can choose what she wears) down to the living room and put them on the side along with a clean nappy and the baby wipes. 

• As soon as S takes her shoes off when we get home from anywhere, I pick them up and put them on the side, out of her reach. She has a tendency to play with footwear, and there are a million places to hide such small shoes, so I keep them where I know they'll still be when we need them in the morning!

• I watch very little TV. I haven't watched any live TV on a regular basis since... I don't even remember. I use the catch-up function on my TV package to browse through what's been on. It cuts down my viewing time considerably, to see that a show I thought might look vaguely interesting is an hour and a half long. In fact, the only show I watch every week without fail is Casualty. And while I'm "watching," I'm blogging and researching. And sorting washing and tidying away some toys, and flicking through magazines for ideas, and scheduling tweets.

• When it comes to blogging, I type very quickly so once I have an idea for a post it doesn't take too long to get it written up. I keep a notepad next to my bed, and make notes on my mobile when I think of ideas.

• When I'm using Facebook, Twitter etc, I'll often compose updates, respond to tweets or comments etc, while I'm queueing in a shop or on my way home from nursery drop off.

• I use apps like Trello, Work Flowy and Asana to keep track of what I'm doing, what I need to do, what I've done.

• Probably the biggest thing I've learned to do is just plain let go. Instead of rushing around, worrying I won't get things done, worrying about this or about that, I just chill out. S and I meander to and from nursery, usually taking a couple of detours. When we go to town she will have a little wander and I will follow along. If I don't stress about being late or missing something or whatever, S doesn't pick up on it. Realistically, there aren't many things in life that absolutely can't wait, and I find that actually, if I'm not stressing about things, I get more done any way.

So there you have it: my secrets for being Wonder Woman/Mum of the Year. Don't go telling anyone!

Messy vs Tidy

Thinking as I have been lately, about clutter-clearing, and how one's living space can reflect their state of mind, I was reminded of a man I used to go out with.

He was lovely, but he had more than his fair share of issues.

I can't post a photo of the two of us; that would be mean.
Here is a picture of me. In my messy living room.

At the time, I was not free of issues myself, and my house was a mess. I would often begin tidying, and start putting things into piles. Although my living room looked a mess to the untrained eye, I knew exactly where everything was. Those two piles of newspapers and magazine might look the same to you, but I've read the ones in this pile, and those in that pile are waiting to be read.

The man, let's call him John, because that wasn't his name, didn't like this. He liked to have everything cleared away. He would move the piles of papers into one massive pile, and slide it behind the sofa. He would even go so far as to move the waste paper basket in my living room so that it was out of sight.

When it came to washing up, I have always been the type of person who leaves it until it reaches a critical mass, and then has a massive clean-up. John, not so. He would wash up even if there were only 3 things to wash. He wouldn't leave them on the drainer to dry as I was happy to either; he had to put them away. The problem was, he didn't really pay attention to ensuring things were cleaned properly; he seemed to just dunk them in the water, put them on the drainer, remove a little more dirt with a tea towel and then put everything away.

I knew my house was messy, but it was my house. I lived there alone. When John came round, there was space for him to sit down, put his things down, space for him to sleep in the bed, clean cups and plates for him to eat off. But he could not stand the organised chaos I called home. He would come in and immediately start hiding away the mess so as to leave a seemingly clear space. While I preferred (and still do prefer) to wait until I can do a job properly and ensure everything is sorted out properly, all issues resolved, before putting things away, John was the polar opposite. He didn't care how it went away, whether it was still half undone or still dirty, so long as it was out of sight.

I think we both dealt with our issues in the same way. I would keep everything floating about until I could process it and "put it away;" he preferred to just stop talking about a problem whether the issue was resolved or not. It was almost like he had a ten-minute time limit on all disagreements, and then we had to stop discussing it and sit in uncomfortable silence. 

I'm still a very messy person; my house always looks like a bomb has hit it. I could blame it on having a toddler in the house, but that's not fair on S since I know I'd probably be worse if she weren't here. But I also still don't like to hide things away until I've dealt with them... which is what I'm doing at the moment. Bear with me; I'm likely to write a fair few more of these rather odd posts!

Learning to Manage my Time

I am a single mother.

I work part time.

On one of my days off, I work in a second job that also takes up a fair amount of time in the evenings.

I am studying for a degree through Open University.

I'm learning to crochet so that I can make S a minion hat for Christmas. 

I maintain this, and another blog.

I spend an offensive amount of time on social media.

Every now and then, I consider the prospect of housework.

Just lately, it's become increasingly clear to me that if I wish to continue with all the frivolities I do outside of motherhood, I'm going to need to be more organised with my time.

I am a champion procrastinator. If there was an award for time wasting, that baby would be mine - but I would put off going to pick it up for a few weeks. Many's the evening I've come downstairs after putting S to bed, just sat down quickly "to check my emails" - and ended up hurriedly doing the washing up at 9pm.

On Saturday morning I was talking to a friend on the phone, and she said, 

you strike me as the sort of person who needs a list each morning in order to achieve what needs to be done...

She was right, and I decided I should probably start doing that. I started right then:

S ended up having a three-hour nap on Saturday morning, and I managed to sort all my washing, and clear everything off the green sofa. I was on a roll! I started clearing other over-crowded surfaces in my living room, and made a to-do list for Sunday:

I was a little more optimistic with this list but I told myself there would be no sitting about faffing on Facebook until I'd completed my list. 

Guess what? S and I went for a long walk in the morning, and spent the afternoon wandering around the Cathedral with my sisters. But by 7pm I had ticked off everything on the list. Well, sort of. What I actually did was clear the dining table and decide to move it across the room to swap places with a different table, throw a load of stuff out, clean the floor under both tables, rearrange a lot of the larger items of S's toys... as well as everything else on the list. 

It turns out, I'm approximately 100% more productive when I actually physically write a list of what I need to do. 

And I feel happier, more relaxed and more... like I've done something with my day - instead of sitting here, surrounded by crap and thinking "tomorrow I really should get on and do this... and this, and this and that..."

From now on, I will be making lists. Lots and lots of lists.

What do you do in order to maintain productivity? How do you keep on top of everything you're aiming to get done by the end of the day? Do you have any clever tips you'd like to pass on?

How has Motherhood Changed Me?

Photo by Chris Meany Photography

Just lately, with Katie Hill's #BodyLove campaign on Twitter, I've been thinking about how becoming a mum has changed me. Here's a list. I love lists!

• Until I was 30, I hated my body. I always considered myself to be too fat, too wobbly, too ugly, "don't take my photo from that angle, you'll show my chins!" At one point, I was going to the gym 8 or 9 times a week. I was quite fit. I ran a half marathon and was lifting heavier weights than most of the boys in the gym at 6:30am. But I still had no body confidence. Now my body has produced a baby, I'm much more relaxed about everything. Yes, I've got stretch marks, yes my thighs wobble and I have bingo wings, yes my boobs are a bit saggy. But look at what I made! Also, to experience my body a few days post-birth, and then find that actually, it's gone back to "normal" fairly quickly, was pleasantly surprising. 

• Before, even though I lifted heavy weights and ran in races and all the rest of it, I had no mental strength. I once ran a gruelling 10 mile race around the hilly outskirts of Salisbury by staying behind the man in front of me, and basically using his mental strength to get my through. Experiencing a 10 and a half hour labour has made me realise that actually, my body's capable of a lot more than I ever thought. I tend to think to myself  "come on, you've been through childbirth; this is piss easy in comparison!"

• I am less tolerant of a lot of things these days. I won't settle for a man treating me like crap, I won't put up with people letting me down, I won't have people smoke or drink near my child. Before, I used to put up with all these things and more, biting my tongue and silently seething.

• On the other hand, I'm more  tolerant of other things. People who walk too slowly down the pavement, children asking awkward questions or just generally being precocious, screaming babies in Sainsbury's. I used to tut and think, "Gawd, control your kid!" but now I just smile and think how lucky I am it's not me! People apologise for being in the way and I tell them not to worry about it. Life is too short!

• I have more fun these days. I'm not afraid to go outside and splash in puddles, or spend half an hour pulling faces at S as I push her on the swing. I push her along in the buggy, happily chattering away to her and making silly noises (the latest favourite is a pretend sneeze) and I don't care what you think of me. Stare all you want; I'm the one with a smile on my face!

• These days, I am much more aware of my mental health, and its precarious stability. Before, it didn't matter if I had a bad couple of weeks, drank too much, didn't go into work, didn't wash up. Now I need to take steps at the first sign of trouble, to stop anything nasty from creeping in. I can't afford to be reckless with myself, now that I have someone else who relies on me for food and cuddles.

• I'm a lot more careful crossing roads. I'll stand at a crossing, press the button, and wait for the little green man, while those around me will make a run for it in front of a reasonably slow car. My child is too precious for me to risk her life, and since she relies on me, I can't afford to risk getting myself run over.

• I'm still the world's messiest person, but that mess is confined to "my" side of the living room. The play mats are kept clean, S's toys are tidied and put away as often as possible. Meanwhile, the rubble next to me on the sofa has recently reached epic proportions, and I'm wondering whether I can get away with just chucking it all in a black bag and starting again.

What about you? Has becoming a parent changed you in ways you didn't expect?

Who Would Have Thought...

When I was in the middle of having my breakdown, I went to the beach several times. I think I thought the sun, sea and sand would make me feel happy and at peace, but it never really did.

Every time I went, I would look up at the balloon that goes up from the Gardens, and think, "you could just get in that, wait for it to go up, and jump..."

One time I went as far as joining the queue, but I didn't have enough cash on me.

The next time I was there, I was with a friend. I told her about my plan with the balloon. She looked at it and said, "you can't jump off that; there's a cage all the way round to keep people in!"

Fast forward three years. 

Today I went to the beach with S and two of my sisters. It was S's first trip to the beach, and I kind of expected her to not really enjoy it. Imagine my surprise when I took her down to the sea for a paddle, and she just kept on walking. I lifted her over the waves as they came, but I missed a few and they got her full in the face! No tears though - she just giggled and kept on kicking her legs and jibbering away to herself. 

In the end, I walked up to Primark to buy a cheap bikini so that I could take S into the sea properly. I left her with my sisters (with a list of instructions as long as both their arms), and set off up to the shops. That involved walking through the gardens for the first time since that time three years ago.

As I walked past the balloon, I looked up and thought, imagine if I'd done it.

My life now is far from easy. I'm constantly behind on my studying, the housework, blog posts, emails, Twitter. S is not sleeping brilliantly, I'm constantly knackered, am too tired and short of time to buy and prepare proper food for myself. But I'm the happiest, most contented I've ever been in my life. Instead of going to the beach in a vague attempt to pull myself out of the pit of despair, I was there to enjoy the sea and the sand with my beautiful daughter, who enjoyed the whole experience a lot more than any of us expected.

As I passed the balloon, I texted my friend saying, "hey, remember that time you told me I couldn't jump out of the balloon..." Her response? 

Who would have thought you'd be where you are now?

Certainly not me.

The Nursery Debate

Tomorrow, S will start going to nursery an extra day a week.

S at nursery, eating custard.

I need the extra time to work on my studying, which I've just not managed to do properly since I went back to work. And I really need to start doing some proper housework.

It will be the first time I will have had regular time to myself, to do as I please, since... well, that depends on whether you count my pregnancy as having had my own free will really. But a long time.

I'm looking forward to going for a run.

But I also feel incredibly guilty.

As if I'm dumping her in nursery when I'm not even at work, because I'm just too lazy to look after my own child. A bad parent. The kind of person who doesn't value time spent with their child. I already leave her there 3 days a week so that I can go to work; surely I would want to spend those precious 2 days in the middle of the week with her, catching up with what we've missed about each other?

Well, yes. I love our two days mid-week more than the days we have at the weekend. There are fewer people about, we can go to parks and the beach and swimming and the library and wherever else we want to go, without it being too crowded. If I could, I'd have someone take S for a day on the weekend so that I could catch up on my studying and general "me" time. But the nursery is not open on weekends, and there is nobody else I can rely on to have her on a regular basis.

Realistically, if I was going to leave her with anyone while I got on with my bits and bobs, nursery is the best place. I know she has fun there. She loves the staff, the other children, the toys. They do all sorts of things that we don't do at home. The past two afternoons she's spent splashing about in a paddling pool outside, wearing just her nappy, and I have neither an outside nor a paddling pool.

I know S will be safe and happy at nursery.

But I still feel awful for planning to leave my precious child with someone else for the day, when I'm not even going to work!

This post is updated here.

Thanks for reading! If you've enjoyed this post, please share it with your friends using the buttons below!

If you liked this post, you may also like:

Wonder Weeks 

Mummy Really Needs Some Me Time!

The Steep Learning Curve

Pollyanna Ain't Got Shit On Me!

According to the source texts I am currently studying for an essay, expressing gratitude can boost our moods.

I could do with a bit of a mood boost at the moment, so I thought it might be useful to list the things I am grateful for:

• I have the world's most beautiful, happy, perfect child. I know you think yours is cute, but mine is the best. She is perfect in every way, and I love her like burning bush fires and chewing gum stuck in my hair. Every time I look at her - even when she is delighting in throwing her breakfast all over the floor, or wiping her snotty nose over my last clean pair of trousers - I remember just how incredibly, blindingly lucky I am to have her. 

• I have some amazing friends. Usually, it's the people you really wouldn't expect much from (not because they're crap, but because they have busy lives of their own, or their own traumas to deal with) who turn up at your door with a friendly smile, a shoulder to cry on, a lift to the shops, a cake. Sometimes it's the person you assume to be only a casual acquaintance who helps you through the darkest of nights.

• I have a roof over my head - and it no longer leaks! I may live in what many deem to be the rougher estate around here, but I'm in the centre of town, my neighbours are reasonable and we have a massive park just over the road.

• After 13 months of constantly feeling that my hair is dirty, I finally have a shower over my bath! This is a Big Deal for me; I cannot tell you how much I love being able to have a shower in the mornings.

• Having a small child means that I get a certain amount of lee-way with the housework. I'm no longer a slovenly disaster area; I'm a mum. The constant mess is more or less expected. Peanut butter on every surface is a given. As long as there's no obvious mould, I can basically say goodbye to the houseproud stress I've never been too fond (or capable) of any way.

• On top of being the most awesomest, bestest, perfectest child ever, S is also fairly independent. She can usually be left to her own devices long enough for me to do the washing up or make the bed (or dick about on Facebook). She has probably learned this from necessity, but it's still something I am eternally grateful for, being as I am, alone in this parenting lark. Now all I need is for her to learn not to follow me in to the bathroom...

• Having this blog has afforded me opportunities to try out things I wouldn't normally have thought of or afforded. Like the photobook I reviewed the other day, or the child-friendly paint I have yet to use in my kitchen. I'm quite lucky, really.

• My sister is pregnant, meaning S will have a cousin 16 months younger than her - the perfect age for shenanigans! We're already planning all the fun stuff we're going to do with them as they grow up!
• S also has two older cousins, who are 2 and 4 years older than her - just right for teaching her mischief!

• I might moan about going to work, and being knackered and what have you, but actually my job is not half bad. The people I work with are a friendly bunch, and between working bloody hard, we also laugh a lot.

And yes, I am definitely procrastinating, and writing this post instead of writing an essay on happiness. What of it?

Things I Have Not Done

• I have not had more than half an hour to myself for 3 days.
• I have not slept more than 2 hours in a row since Tuesday.
• I have not been able to do so much as go to the toilet without taking a sniffling, screaming, separation anxiety-fraught baby with me. Even then she screams when I put her down on the floor right next to me and must be clinging to me at all times.
• I have not called the council to chase up their repair of my bedroom and bathroom ceilings after the roof leak.
• I have not called the doctor to make an appointment for S to have her 1 year jabs (including MMR)
• I have not called the council to get them to put child-proof safety latches on my windows.
• I have not sorted through a year's worth of S's old clothes, photographed them and put them on one website or another to sell.
• I have not checked through my wardrobe to see if there is something sensible to wear to work in an office.
• I have not vacuumed the living room floor for an alarming number of days.
• I have not bought and stewed more apples for S's supper.
• I have not studied this week's material in my English module.
• I have not started the assignment that is due in next week.
• I have not cleaned the kitchen.
• I have not started a Tesco online order, and we are running out of food.
• I have not taken the living room apart in an attempt to find the missing stereo remote.
• I have not done the hand and foot prints I promised myself I'd do with S this week.
• I have not sorted through S's toys to get rid of the ones that are too young for her.
• I have not made a list of relevant information for the calls I need to make on my first day back at work (stop Income Support, start Tax Credits, that sort of thing)
• I have not made a list of the questions I need to ask the nursery
• I have not sorted out a suitable work handbag for me, or a nursery bag for S.
• I have not taken S to the library to choose more books.
• I have not written a proper blog post.
• I have not given S a bath today.
• I have not done the washing
• I have not done the washing up
• I have not taken the bins out
• I have not sorted out the recycling
• I have not tidied up the toys in my bedroom
• I have not cleaned the bathroom

I have also not called a local charity to see if they will swap my large sofa for a smaller one, so that I can take an armchair off my mum's hands. This is what she's most concerned about; I need to "get on and do it" apparently. 

Nothing like a bit of family support, is there. Ah well, onwards and upwards; nobody's going to help me so I'd better just get on with it myself.

This post was a bit miserable and self-pitying, so I made a more positive one here about the things I have achieved.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post please share it with your friends using the buttons below!

A Day In The Life

I had this awesome idea that I would record what I do over the course of a day, so that I can show... well I'm not sure what I hoped to illustrate. I think I picked a bad day to do it on too, but here is what happened yesterday:

2:30am:  S wakes up to feed. I fall asleep feeding her, as is the norm.
5am: S wakes up to feed. I groan because I fell asleep in an awkward position last time and now my back feels like it may snap.
6 am: S wakes up to feed. Hold my breath and pray she goes back to sleep as 6am is too early to contemplate today.
7am: wake up, S still asleep
7:30: S wakes up later than usual but in a good mood. She's usually in a good mood in the mornings.
7:45 have a bath together. Put S on bed (mattress on floor) in towel while I dry myself. She happily plays with her toys. At the moment she has to have two lots of cream on her arms and legs each morning and night. Apply first lot and wait ten minutes, during which time I dress myself. Just as I'm putting on my bra she decides the digital clock is more interesting than her toys, and launches herself off the bed towards it. Ten minutes spent comforting a screaming baby with a digital clock imprinted on her cheek. Second lot of cream on, clean babygro on, finish dressing myself. Open curtains and check ceiling for leaks.

8:40: downstairs for breakfast. Good morning baby-in-the-mirror, good morning stairs, good morning front door, good morning kitchen, good morning living room, good morning CBeebies... CBeebies?  Virgin Media box not working again, so put a dvd on to keep S entertained. Make porridge with fruit puree for S and a coffee for me. Also 5ml of Calpol for teething/cold, and 0.6ml of vitamin supplement she's been on since leaving hospital. Skip the iron supplement she's meant to have, because she had it yesterday and I don't like to do it every day. Come back to living room to find S has managed to get herself almost completely underneath the unit the TV sits on. Again. Extract her and put her in her high chair. These days she won't go into the chair without something on the tray to play with, so she has a rusk. The rusk never goes anywhere near her mouth. During this meal it is thrown onto the floor only four times. S eats breakfast, refuses to even entertain the idea of the rusk (probably for the best) so I eat it. Back to the play mat to play with her toys, as I make a stab at the housework.

9:10: Thoroughly clean high chair as it's not been done properly in a while. Put a load of washing on. Vacuum downstairs, including underneath the rug. S is rather disgruntled at being left on the play mats, and I have to clean them any way, so I pop her in the ball pit. She watches with an unimpressed look as I move all her toys off the mats to vacuum up the crumbs, then move the ball pit with her in it to vacuum under that. She falls over and gets cross. Stop what I'm doing to play with her for a bit. Apparently the Dr Seuss dvd is just not doing it for her, so we swap it for a Tweenies one so that I can go and do the washing up.

10am: take S upstairs for her nap. Lay down on the bed with her and read a book as I feed her to sleep. Radio on fairly loud to block out the banging from next door. Everything crossed it will work.

10:10am: S asleep, I come downstairs to finish the cleaning. It's a race against the clock. Finish washing up. Clear and clean kitchen sides. Empty bins and take them out with recycling. Clean the kitchen bin. Fill a bucket, on hands and knees and clean kitchen floor, living room floor and hall. Have to scrub at dried-on baby food I've somehow missed when it was dropped. Empty bucket down toilet, fling some bleach in afterwards and make a mental note to do more than just fling bleach down it at some point today. Or tomorrow. Or definitely before next weekend.

10:45: put everything back in its place, sit down, put my feet up to have a little drink and a rest. Find cold coffee and chuck it. Hear S wake up. Short nap today then, possibly caused by next door being extra loud this morning. Go upstairs to fetch her. Thankfully, she's woken in a good mood. Back downstairs, Tweenies dvd back on as TV still not working. Luckily S is happy to sit and play with toys in front of me while I sit on the sofa and sort through the pile of paperwork that's built up on the sofa cushions next to me over the course of the week. As long as I look at her every few seconds and pull a face or chat to her, she seems content to shout at her toys and look up at the Tweenies any time they sing or dance.

11am: start to curse myself for not buying any sensible breakfast or snacky foods in this week's shopping. Feeling a bit squiffy but there's nothing quick to grab to eat. Settle for a can of Coke. Healthy lifestyle at its best. Back to the living room to sort the never-ending pile of washing. Fight hard not to just sit on the floor and cry from the stress of certain personal issues going on right now. Disturbed from my self-pity by a bad smell, and stop to change a nappy. S cries when I cough, and we spend 20 minutes playing and practising walking until she is happy again. She sits and plays with a toy hammer precisely long enough for me to sit back down on the floor with the washing, then starts crying again. Eventually manage to get washing half-sorted, when phone rings. Spend 20 minutes on the phone to my mum, explaining the latest drama with my older sister. Get off the phone, and it's time for lunch.

Midday: lunch time. Sit S in the high chair and distract her with some wotsit-type crisps while I shovel proper food into her mouth. she spreads food and crisps all over newly-cleaned highchair. Half an hour later, I clean her up and make a half-hearted attempt at the highchair. She spends ten minutes on the rug practising crawling and screeching and then we go to the kitchen to make brownies. S sits on the floor while I mix brownies. She gets a chocolatey spoon to play with, and I am glad the floor was at least clean before we started. Brownies made, she pulls at my jeans while I wash up. Then we go back to the living room, where she sits in her ball pit, trying to chew on the inflated sides. It doesn't work so well and she gets quite fed up. Quick trip upstairs to put some washing away, but give up when she is not happy up there either. Come back downstairs and watch some awful CBeebies show with her sitting next to me on the sofa playing with remote controls. This lasts five minutes, before she makes it perfectly clear she wants me to feed her. These days feeding is only done at nap time so usually when she tries to grab my boobs it's because she's tired.

1:50pm take S upstairs for her nap early. Lay down and read a book while I feed her to sleep. Once she is asleep, I go to her bedroom to put away some of her clean washing, and to sort through her next lot of clothes. She's just growing into 9-12 months stuff, so I need to make sure I have enough. These days every time we change her clothes at least one item of clothing has to go into the "outgrown" pile. Bring 9-12 months clothes downstairs to check what we have and put it through the wash. Answer is: not a lot. Better do some shopping. Take more clean washing upstairs and sort it out. Come downstairs and have a brief scroll through Ebay to find some bargains for S. Greeted by a Facebook comment from my older sister informing me my dead father was disappointed in me and my two brothers. Decide S is better off not knowing the bitterness on that side of the family and try my best to remember my father loved me.

2:40: S wakes up, crying. Go upstairs to fetch her but make matters worse when she sees what Mummy looks like when she's been crying. We come downstairs and watch some CBeebies whilst tearing an old Radio Times apart. Then when that gets boring we take a little tour of the house, then sit and play with some other toys.

3:30pm visit from my sister Z and her boyfriend L. A welcome relief; I think S and I are both growing sick of each other's company. Z and L take it in turns to play with S, making her giggle and letting her walk them around the living room.

4pm: tea time. S is tired and less interested in food than I would hope. Manage to sneak in two-thirds of her dinner and a fromage frais. Back to playing with Z and L while I bid for some clothes for her on Ebay.

5:15pm: Z and L leave. Take S for another little wander around the house, pick up PJs and a clean nappy. Wrestle her out of her clothes, and fight to get her cream applied to the relevant areas. Doctor told me to apply a thin layer of first lot, wait ten minutes, apply second lot. It needs to go behind her arm pits and behind her knees. Not the easiest of places on a squirmy, grumpy baby but we do our best. Second lot of cream is not what the doctor prescribed, as that was a steroid. Use coconut oil instead, which is nicer but she doesn't like the smell. Finally manage to get her into vest and babygro ready for bed. More crying. Take her to the kitchen to fetch a Baby Bel, and we sit on the sofa to eat it. She plays with each remote in turn, then throws them on the floor. Ditto for my phone, my iPod, a pair of slippers and a box of tissues. She cries when I put my hands near her face, so we go back to the kitchen to wash the coconut oil off and try again. Marginally more successful; I think she ate about a quarter of the cheese. Everything from the sofa thrown or hidden, including my phone. S still in a grump and clearly showing me she's tired and wants to feed so take her to bed ten minutes early. Good night living room, good night kitchen, good night front door, good night stairs, good night baby-in-the-mirror, good night Mummy.

5:50pm Lay on my bed and read a book as I feed S to sleep. Fast asleep within 15 minutes but I worry how long it will last. Mad dash downstairs to tidy up toys in the living room and get various other bits done, in case she wakes up and I don't have time.

6:40pm: S wakes up, screaming incosolably. No chance of getting her back to sleep, so bring her downstairs and rock her back and forth for twenty minutes, until she does a massive poo and it becomes evident why she was crying. Change nappy and have a stab at getting her back to sleep. Fail miserably. She is clearly picking up on my less than perfect mood. Bring her downstairs and put her in the bouncy chair in the hope she will be tired enough to just fall asleep. May as well hope to win the lottery. Short, uncomfortable visit from HYM with worst possible timing known to man. Entirely not his fault my daughter is upset and irritable and my family has imploded.

Evening spent with S in the bouncy chair, periodically trying to find a toy that will keep her entertained. She shows no signs of tiredness, until she begins crying at 9pm. Suspecting another poonami, I decide to admit defeat and just go to bed. In the time it takes to lock the front door, carry her up the stairs and change her nappy she has become wide awake again. She spends an hour or so playing on a rug on the bedroom floor while I potter about.

10:30: feed S to sleep and fall asleep myself.
1:30am: S wakes up to feed. I have to use every ounce of self control not to cough, because I know this will cause tears and proper wakefulness from both of us. Have a small drink of water, feed S and go back to sleep.
3:30am: awake again. Feed her to sleep and pray this time it lasts longer. Try not to cough.
6am: awake again, but I refuse to accept 6am as a time to be properly awake. Feed her back to sleep, only to find that I can't sleep. Lay in bed and try my hardest, until 6:30 when I get up and play with my mobile instead.
6:45am Mad rush from bedroom, downstairs, into living room, door shut, and finally have a big cough into a cushion so as not to wake S.
7am: S wakes up, and we start it all over again.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, please share it with your friends using the buttons below.

You might find it interesting to read this post I wrote when I returned to work.

Our Week, 31 Dec - 5 January

Monday 31 December
Last day of the year. Celebrated by doing housework. A visit from a dear friend and her three children, and a brief, damp visit to town, and then more housework. Rock and roll.

Tuesday 01 January
Finally, a break in the weather! Celebrated by bundling S into the pushchair and going for a wander around town. Good to get some fresh air and do some thinking. Afternoon spent catching up with an old friend, who enjoyed playing musical instruments with S while we chatted. Brief visit from mother and a family friend, then bed time. Happy New Year.

Wednesday 02 January
Up early to go to a poorly-timed doctor appointment. HYM was supposed to come with me to entertain S while I saw the doctor, but he didn't manage it. Instead, I tried to bounce her on my lap and keep her away from the blood pressure monitor and various other things on the doctor's desk while we discussed various things. Home by 10:30, visit from D, afternoon spent preparing food and playing with noisy toys. There is a lot to be said for noisy toys when you have things in your head you need to be distracted from.

Thursday 03 January
OU tutorial in the morning, where it was confirmed I really need to get my arse in gear and, you know, actually study if I want to complete the module that finishes in two weeks. Then a quick trip to town to pick up bits and bobs, home for some lunch and a visit from a wonderful friend who always brightens our day.

Friday 04 January
Up early for a visit from a truly awesome friend that we really don't see often enough. Especially since he turned up with Costa and croissants, and had driven all the way from Oxford just to say hi for an hour. Friends like this make me wonder why I've ever bothered with all the losers I've put up with in my life! Afternoon visit from two sisters and some nieces, evening spent with youngest sis A and a Chinese.

Saturday 05 January
S up in the night poorly, but slept in late. This is good in that I got some sleep, but bad in that it put her whole schedule out. We do like our schedule. Morning spent cleaning and tidying. Afternoon spent with more of the same; evening spent with HYM.

Tidy House, Tidy Mind.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm not the tidiest of people. When I had my last house, I brought a man back one night and he actually gasped; he thought someone had broken in. My general rule was that the washing up didn't need to be done until I'd run out of plates... and paper napkins. Tidying was what you did the day before your landlord came round for a house inspection.

Fast forward a couple of years, and I'm a mother to an almost-mobile baby who is also very inquisitive and a bit of a sneaky ninja... and all of a sudden, I'm cleaning everything, all the time. Ok, so that's a bit of an exaggeration, but I've suddenly become a bit thingie about things being clean and tidy.

When I was cooking Christmas dinner, I actually felt a little uptight about the fact the gravy had splattered over the stove, and had to get a cloth and wipe up around the pan. As soon as we'd finished eating, I was in the kitchen wanting to clear everything up and get the washing up done. Within an hour, the kitchen was clean, and the hob was sparkling. I have no idea what has happened to me.

I get a weird sense of satisfaction from having S's toys all put back in place on her play mats once she's gone to bed, from folding the high chair away and sweeping up the crumbs from beneath it, from having a shiny white hob and clear kitchen sides.  Since my living room floor was laid, I've been very particular about making sure the living room is clean and tidy, and the rest of the house looks good. 

I've always seen clutter-clearing and general cleaning as linked to what is going on in my head. I tend to clean and tidy when I'm re-ordering my thoughts, and throw things out when I'm mentally discarding things I want to let go of. I'm a great believer that a person's living space reflects their mental state: at the old house, when it was so messy and untidy you could barely see the floor in my living room, that was right before I had a nervous breakdown and nearly killed myself.

Since moving in here, the place has been fairly messy for large chunks of time, and I wasn't always particularly bothered by it. I guess you could say I had bigger fish to fry, finding my feet as a single mother. For the last couple of months though, and more noticeably since I met HYM, I'm quite particular about the place being clean and tidy. I'm not some sort of weirdo who has to put everything away just-so with no trace of life in the house, but I like for everything to have its place. I'm slowly making my way around the house, moving furniture, putting pictures up, throwing out things I don't use, making the place easier to keep clean. I think at the same time, I'm letting go of a lot of the junk I've been storing in my head, and moving on with my life. Slowly but surely, both my house and my mind are starting to become more organised and less cluttered with junk and rubbish. Everything has its place and can be put back where it belongs when it's finished with. And everything can be clean, and look clean and tidy when I'm finished.

Perhaps, at the ripe old age of thirty-one, I'm finally dealing with my issues too. Slowly, but surely.

Thanks for reading! If you've enjoyed this post, please share it with your friends using the buttons below.

Our Week: 2 - 8 December

Sunday 2 Dec
Morning spent baking brownies, with a visit from mother. Hot date in the afternoon. evening spent... watching TV. Oh yeah, I know how to party. S barely slept through the evening, but did sleep for 5 solid hours in the night so can't complain.

Monday 3 Dec
Off to the Childrens' Centre in the morning for "8 Month Contact." Afternoon spent playing with S whilst moving furniture and bringing living room junk back downstairs now the floor is down. S had 3 long naps, which was odd but she's been sleeping badly lately.

Tuesday 4 Dec
Accidentally stayed in all day. Housework in the morning, and a visit from the nursery nurse about S and her eating/sleeping/development. World's messiest lunch: the kind where both mine and S's outfits needed to be changed afterwards. We were going to baby group at a local church in the afternoon, and looking forward to it since there was a Christmas tree festival to visit. But S decided to have a long afternoon nap, and we missed it. Had intended to go to the shops afterwards, but S did not wake in the world's best mood, and we'd already been through 2 pairs of socks today so abandoned all plans.

Wednesday 5 Dec
Up and out for a long walk in the morning, then an afternoon visit from a very dear friend I'd not seen forever and a day, and her gorgeous son. Evening and overnight spent trying not to hear the neighbours partying, and panicking about my maternity leave ending.

Thursday 6 Dec
Morning spent having a go at housework and waiting for a Tesco order. Afternoon spent at the local panto, Sleeping Beauty. We went with D, who got us tickets through Home Start which was awesome. S slept through the first part, but loved the lights and colours in the second half. Got home late (5pm) and neighbours had already begun their evening festivities so S slept in the living room in her bouncy chair. Again. No idea what we will do when she outgrows the thing, and the neighbours are still inconsiderate drunken idiots.

Friday 7 Dec
Off out to Buggyfun in the freezing cold; really didn't fancy it, but as usual once we got there it was great. then back home to feed S lunch and get my hair cut by a friend. Sneaky nap on the sofa followed by random housework tasks and a vague attempt at OU work. Must try harder with the OU stuff.

Saturday 8 Dec
Another morning pretending to do housework. I did vacuum though so that was good. Made brownies and tarted myself up for my hot date with the Handsome Young Man.Went out for hot date; bumped into my mother on the way home, whilst I was still with HYM. Awkward.

Our Week: 26 Nov - 01 Dec

Monday 26 Nov
Up early and out to a mother and toddler group. Had ummed and ahhed about going, but figured I had nothing to lose by just trying it out. Turns out it was great fun, S had a good old shout, and we both really enjoyed song time at the end. It did mess with nap time a little though, meaning S slept for 20 minutes on the way there and 20 minutes on the way home, and had a slightly rushed lunch before we went back out to meet a friend for lunch. Awful experience in Slug & Lettuce (though S enjoyed herself, and I had a good catch-up with said friend) followed by S falling asleep again on the way home. Afternoon spent trying to clear junk from the living room whilst being distracted by a baby who has discovered her ability to squawk like a super-cute pterodactyl.

Tuesday 27 Nov
Morning spent clearing junk out of the living room ready for the floor to be put down tomorrow. Horrifying moment around lunch time when I looked around and realised that I'd removed 80% of the stuff, and the room still looked full. I've a feeling a lot of things will be thrown out rather than coming back into the room once the floor is down. Afternoon spent at a local church's mother and baby group. Lovely people, an invite to their Christmas party, and some strawberries! Walked home with my sister, who helped to move the sofa. And then more stuff-moving, while S resolutely refused to sleep.

Wednesday 28 Nov
A brief reprieve from the floor-laying meant a quiet day at home. D visited in the morning, S had a couple of good naps, things were cool. Didn't leave the house all day; it was bliss. Oh yeah, and I got asked out on a date. Nearly fell off my chair.

Thursday 29 Nov
My brother came to lay the floor, so S and I hibernated upstairs for the morning, playing with toys and mucking about. My sister turned up around lunch time, and we took S into town for a little wander and a spot of Christmas shopping, before coming home for a man from the council to assess the damage to my bedroom ceiling from a persistently leaky roof. Afternoon spent chatting to a lovely friend who doesn't visit often.

Friday 30 Nov
Up reasonably early and off to a Buggyfun class - I'd not been for a while because the class had moved to a place horribly close to the ex's house, but it moved back to its original location this week and I was very excited to get back to it. Nearly killed myself with running and a mini assault course, but had a massive grin on my face walking home. Visit from a friend at lunch time; afternoon spent having a go at putting all the junk back in the living room... Got as far as putting the Christmas tree up...

Saturday 01 Dec
Left S with a babysitter for the first time. Before I've left her with a family member outside of a shop, or left my sister pushing her around town in the buggy while I had my hair done... This morning I went into town for a whole hour, while she stayed at home with my sister A. Afternoon spent baking. S played happily with a wooden spoon, a pastry brush and a silicone oven glove.

Mood Swings

The more astute among you may have gleaned from previous posts that I have a long-standing, ongoing battle with depression and general mental demons that just won’t leave me be.

Since getting pregnant I’ve not taken any medication for my mental health issues, and instead I take supplements, most notably fish oils, which I take three times a day, without fail. They tend to work quite well at balancing out my moods and helping me to not jump face-first into the pit of eternal despair. I have, however, noticed a pattern emerging. This in itself is a good thing, as I’m usually so completely un-self-aware that I don’t notice things like this. I’m the girl who spends a week convinced everyone really is out to get her… and then realises when her “monthly visitor” arrives that it was just PMT.

I tend to coast along nicely, not quite 100% together, but nowhere near as depressed and miserable as I have been known to be. An even keel, you might say. After a little while my moods will start to deteriorate, and with them the housework and general organisation of my life. This generally culminates in one evening spent wailing, convinced I can’t possibly continue with anything. S will pick up on my mood and become suitably grizzly, thus increasing the despair. And then we go to bed, and in the morning wake up and look around a little like the Very Hungry Caterpillar coming out of his cocoon. The world hasn’t ended overnight, you say? Everything is just fine, you say? This day is invariably a day where I will go a bit manic and catch up on everything I’ve let slip for the last week or so. I will wash up, clean the kitchen, do as many loads of washing as I can get through the machine in a day, vacuum, prepare baby foods, cook proper meals for myself and stock the fridge and freezer. I’ll be like this for a good few days, merrily going along getting everything done as quickly as possible and generally being rather awesome.

This has happened over the last couple of days: S was not sleeping, either for naps or at night. I was getting nothing done, not eating properly, getting stressed at her lack of sleep. Whenever I did manage to get her to drop off she would usually be woken up by someone knocking the door, or the phone ringing, or me being clumsy and dropping something because I was so tired. I was completely exhausted, and it’s entirely possible that if Jack the Ripper had knocked the door and offered to babysit, I would have let him in. Luckily for us, Jack the Ripper doesn’t come round much these days. Over the weekend I finally cracked and spent an evening pushing S back and forth in the pushchair in the living room, trying desperately to get her to sleep. I was distraught, convinced there was no way I could do this on my own any more but with clue as to how I could remedy that situation. I felt lost and miserable and fed up. So I went to bed at 8:30pm and decided to deal with it in the morning. And what do you know, S actually slept quite a bit, which meant I managed to get some sleep too, and we both woke up the next day feeling a lot better.

So there we have my pattern – Extreme low is always followed by extreme high, and then it evens itself out again for a few weeks. This is possibly something I should write on a Post-It and stick to my fridge, so that next time I’m burrowing about in the depths of despair, I can at least tell myself the words I have tattooed on my wrist: this too shall pass.

Our Week, 8-13 October

Monday 08 Oct

After a rather unsettled (and somewhat screamy) night’s sleep, we got up and walked across town to pick up some baby clothes. We were also supposed to walk to an out of town superstore in another direction to pick up an order, but I couldn’t be bothered. We came home instead, and spent a fair amount of time playing. And then a nap, and then more playing. Bed time appears to have become a two-stage thing, where S falls asleep and I sneak out, only to find her awake and crying 15 minutes later. This happened again, but fingers crossed it’s not a permanent change!

Tuesday 09 Oct

Walked in the pouring rain to the big out of town Next to pick up an order. Turned up at 9:45 to find they didn’t open til 10. Got drenched. Came home, got changed, and went to see the health visitor. My one has been off sick for months so I saw yet another lady I’d not seen before. It’s a different one every time these days, and far from an ideal situation.

Wednesday 10 Oct

Our Home Start lady came and brought cakes for me and two teething toys for S. In the afternoon my sister Z came round with some rice krispie cakes she’d made and I ate until I felt sick. We didn’t leave the house all day.

Thursday 11 Oct

Up and out early to run some errands around town. Home by 11am to attempt housework, but S had other ideas. Her poor sleeping pattern over the last few days has been getting gradually worse, and today she had no naps at all, and then couldn’t sleep at bed time. Ended up bringing her downstairs and pushing her back and forth in the pushchair until she fell asleep, then camping on the sofa.

Friday 12 Oct

Another day where we didn’t leave the house. Had plans to go out for a walk with a friend but after another poor night’s sleep I cancelled in favour of trying to get some rest. S actually managed a morning nap, and was in a fairly agreeable mood, meaning I managed to get a fair few things done. Unfortunately her afternoon nap, during which I was planning to sleep, was interrupted by a loud knock on the door, and so I spent the afternoon trying to distract S from grizzling; no mean feat. Despite this, I still managed to do some decorating, cleaning and washing – so not a complete loss.

Saturday 13 Oct

A slightly better night followed by a lazy morning. When it became clear S did not intend on having a morning nap, I took her out in the sling instead. She finally fell asleep after half an hour of wandering around the shops, so I stayed out for as long as I could in order to keep her asleep. Certainly feeling her weight gain in my back these days! When we came home she was in an agreeable mood, and even had a long afternoon nap, so I managed to get a lot done – baking, stewing and pureeing foods, cleaning the kitchen, washing up, more decorating, posting a gazillion items on Ebay. She is now in bed, but I’ve been up to her twice already. Fingers crossed she stays asleep now, and I get to have a lazy Saturday evening after a somewhat stressful week!

Things I Wish I Could Explain to S...

• You can wear your bib as a cape, but it won’t be quite so effective.

• You can either suck your thumb or my nipple; both doesn’t work so well.

• Hard to believe, but if you just give up and go to sleep for an hour or so, you will feel a lot better when you wake up.

• I’ve not disappeared off the face of the earth, just gone to the toilet. I’ll be back before you know it and you’ll feel silly for crying.

• It is entirely possible for you to grab my breast without clawing it to shreds. Please learn this quickly.

• If you just move your arm a little, you’ll be able to roll out of that position… No, move it the other way… No, not your leg…

• This toy is designed for teething; if you put it in your mouth it might make you feel a little better. The other toy is fluffy, and not really designed for anything mouth-related. Surely you can taste that?

• We share a bed. I can hear that you are awake from your chattering; I just pretend not to in the hope you will go back to sleep. Lifting your legs and banging them back down on the bed like that is just rude!

• If you’re so hungry you’re crying, the answer really is to stop crying and drink milk when it is offered. The crying won’t make you not hungry. Fact.

• I love you very much, but sometimes when I feel something warm and wet running down my arm, and I don’t know whether it’s pee or dribble, it’s hard not to question your motives.

• I know you love to stand and get a good old look around, but I’d really love if you could at least attempt the whole sitting/crawling thing first. You’ll love it once you get the hang of it and can sit yourself up without having to wait for me to figure out why you’re yelling every time!

• If you just cling to me a tiny bit, instead of going all floppy, our walk down the stairs in the morning will feel less precarious.

• I know you don’t enjoy the act of putting your coat on, but once it’s on, you’ll enjoy chewing on it, and you’ll enjoy being in the sling leaving a trail of slobber on my chest even more.

• It would be helpful if you could aim your sick at the muslin I am holding in front of your face, instead of turning your head and depositing it on me/the floor/my leg/the sofa.

• It is really not funny to wait until the minute I put a load of nappies in the washing machine before doing a great big poo. Nobody wants that smell hanging around the house until the next load goes in.

• You have a lot of toys designed specifically for babies of your age. There are fluffy things, chewy things, brightly coloured things, ones that squeak or make other annoying noises. There are blankets and play mats on the floor to keep you comfortable while you play… I can’t help but feel you’re a tiny bit ungrateful when all you want to do is sit on my lap and play with the tag on my cardigan.

• Your toes are cold because you kicked your socks off. I am more than happy to put them back on for you, but if you pull them straight back off again, your toes will stay cold.

• I understand that you want me to play with you, and you don’t like for me to leave you alone on your play mat, but if I don’t eat soon we run the risk of my collapsing on top of you.

• This is the most important one: I love you more than you will ever comprehend, more than chocolate and ice cream and duvets all put together. 

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this post, please share it with your friends using the buttons below.

If you liked this post, you may also like:

Five Things We Probably Do Differently

Things They Don't Tell You About Pregnancy

Counting My Blessings

A Change in Priorities

When I was pregnant, a friend whose baby had not long been born warned me: don’t worry about the birth; the thing you need to try to prepare for is afterwards. I thought she was ridiculous: I had no worries at all regarding my abilities as a mother, and was sure everything would be fine once we’d got the scary business of the birth out of the way.

Turns out my friend was more right than something that is really very right.

Since having S, everything has changed. My priorities are totally different. And I think all of these changes have been for the better.

The first, most immediate change was simply that I could no longer just pop out somewhere: wherever I went, S had to come too. From that very first day in the hospital, it felt wrong to be away from her, even if just for a shower in the next room. When she was in NICU and I had to leave her there overnight while I slept on the ward, I felt like I’d left a limb behind somewhere. The day after we came out of hospital, S’s father gave me some money to go out and buy some food, telling me to just pop out and leave S here with him. It was the shortest, most horrible shopping trip I have ever been on. It just felt wrong to be wandering around without S; the last time I’d walked around town was 2 weeks previously, and I’d been carrying her in my belly. Now I had no bump and no baby, and I rushed around the shop as quickly as I could in order to get back, convinced that something bad would happen while I was away. When I came home, she was still fast asleep and completely unaware I’d even left the room. Since then, I can probably count the number of times I’ve left her anywhere on my fingers.

There was the time I left her with my mother while I went into a salon: she cried the whole time and my mother didn’t come to get me.

I left my sister Z pushing her around town in the pushchair while I had my hair cut a couple of months ago, and spent what is normally an enjoyable experience hoping it would be over soon so I could get back to my baby.

Since then, I think the most I’ve left her for is playing in the living room while I go upstairs to the toilet, or stand outside on the balcony chatting to my neighbour. My friend tells me I have First Baby Syndrome; others tell me it’s not healthy and that I need some “me” time, that I should leave her with a sitter and go out with my friends. In all honesty though, I don’t want “me” time. In the evenings when she goes to bed, more often than not I come downstairs and after ten minutes I miss her. A couple of hours in the evening to read and study is plenty for me. I’m not interested in going out drinking or for a meal. Occasionally I wish I could go to the cinema of an evening, but I know that if I went I wouldn’t enjoy the film because I would be thinking about S the whole time.

I used to laugh at the cliché you always see on TV shows, where the parents go out and leave their child with a babysitter and a massive list of instructions, then spend their entire evening on the phone checking everything is ok – now I am worse than that.

When I fell pregnant I had not been in my job for long, and I only worked 4 days a week. I would often take on overtime working in another team on my day off, and sometimes on weekends too. I wanted to do well in the quarterly development meetings, to go on training courses and progress as much as possible. Although I knew I would be off work for a while when I had S, I figured I would go back and just leave her at a nursery or with her father or a family member. Now the idea of leaving her in a nursery, even the best nursery in the world, for that length of time, on a regular basis, terrifies me. While I was walking through town yesterday I overheard a lady with a pushchair telling a friend, “well my job will still be there if I want to go back, but I didn’t have a child so that I could leave it with someone else…” I have several friends who are returning to work after having a baby, and several of them have said to me that if they could find a way to afford being a stay at home mum, they would do it. On the other hand, though, I have another friend who suffered with Post-Natal Depression and knew that she had to get back out to work or she would be in trouble. She seems to enjoy her job and her children seem, if anything, brighter and happier than a lot I’ve met.

As for me, I’m still undecided as to whether I will go back to work. But if I do, it won’t be on the same hours as before; it’s likely to be considerably fewer.

Becoming a mum has made me more confident in myself, with the realisation that actually, I’m doing this on my own, S is doing well, I’m doing a good job. But it has also made me endlessly paranoid and worried I’m doing it all wrong. The other day while D, my Home Start lady was here, S was lying on her play mat and I noticed a mark on the side of her face. I was horrified: what could have happened to cause a massive bruise like that? I knew that if  D saw anything in my home that gave her cause for concern she was obliged to report it to the charity, and to my health visitor (everything is confidential unless it’s something like a massive bruise on a baby’s face; then they are obviously obliged to report it). I sat there on the mat saying, “oh gosh, look at that, is that a bruise? Oh no where can that have come from, what’s happened, oh no…” Then S moved, and it turned out it was just a shadow from the way she was laying. D looked and said: babies will always get little bumps from time to time. She told me that when her son was little he was completely fearless but very accident prone, and eventually the staff at A&E told her if they saw him again that year they would have to call social services. That reassured me for a while… until I found a couple of scratches on her leg yesterday afternoon!

I have definitely become a lot more health conscious, and my diet has improved massively. For a few weeks after coming home from hospital, I was living off crisps, microwave meals and chocolate. I was only taking my supplements as and when I remembered, which was not on a regular basis, and I generally felt like crap. All the while, in the back of my mind, I knew that if I improved my diet I would feel better; years of experience of eating junk and feeling awful have taught me how much difference the old 5 a day can make. Then one day I realised that as S grew and started to take in what went on around her, she was likely to begin to think that all food came either from a crisp packet, or the white box that goes ping in the corner of the kitchen. That day I went shopping and had a salad for lunch instead. Since then, I still eat a lot of chocolate (like you wouldn’t believe!) and my eating habits are definitely not as healthy as they could be, but I try to always eat as much fruit and vege as I can. I also feel that I need to be healthy, not just to set a good example to S, but so that I can be as healthy as possible to be a good mother to her. After all, if I die of heart disease at the age of 50, where does that leave my daughter? When I look back at my childhood, one thing that stands out is that my mum and all her friends were always on a diet. They we either starting a diet or breaking their diet or talking about the next diet. My auntie had a fridge magnet that said, “I’ll start my diet tomorrow… tomorrow… tomorrow…” One time my mum did a sponsored weight loss for charity. In the eighties everyone was on about diets and weight loss; nobody thought anything of it. But I don’t want S to look back on her childhood and see the same thing

I saw a documentary on TV about foods that are marketed as healthy but are actually just as bad as many others, and when I saw a brand of drink that I and a friend both enjoyed featured on the show, I texted her: “oh wow, that drink actually has more calories than a can of Coke!” I was really surprised. She responded that she was completely uninterested in the calorie content or healthiness of any foods. This really surprised me; this friend has a toddler, and I had just assumed that she would have the same “I need to be healthy for my child” feeling I had. I thought everyone had it. It’s not like I have a blind panic of “must exercise, must lose weight” or anything like that, but the thought that I need to keep myself healthy is always there, in the back of my head. In the past I have been somewhat reckless with my health. My diet has always been questionable and I was never one to read the instructions on a pack of medication. Now I read the instructions, the list of possible side effects, check whether it’s compatible with breastfeeding, and more often than not put it back in the cupboard and make do without it. As my health visitor pointed out to me very early on, S is entirely reliant on me, so while she is my first priority, I need to be second on that list and ensure I am fit and healthy enough to do a good job of looking after her.

This is a weird one, but I feel like a grown up now I’m a mother. I’m 31 years old, I moved out of my mother’s house when I was 20 and have spent a number of years living alone, paying my own bills and fending for myself. I’ve had jobs where I was responsible for the financial affairs of an entire company, or where I managed several other people’s workloads. And I spent last summer playing house with my ex and his six children. But that’s exactly what it was: playing house. I still feel a lot like I’m playing house now; every time I do a load of washing it feels like a complete novelty to me. Having S has made me actually grow up and behave like an adult though. I can’t just not wash up (well I can, but only for one day); I can’t just not get out of bed if I don’t fancy it. I have to get up, prepare food, change and wash nappies, clean things, make sure bills are paid. Before, if I ran out of money part way through the month I would just make do with living off whatever was left in the kitchen or go hungry. Now I have to be careful with my money and make sure it never runs out, that there is always credit on the gas meter.

Every time something else for the flat is sorted out (painting a wall, putting curtains up or a floor down) I feel like I’m one step closer to being a proper, actual grown up, with a home and a floor and curtains and a loo brush and bins that have to be taken out. The fact that S has to have two lots of supplements every day adds to this: they have to be measured out in a sterile syringe, and given to her at the same time every day. She can’t do that herself; I am responsible for it. It’s not just me any more, messing about and maybe tidying the living room every other week. I am entirely responsible for another human being, who has nobody else to rely on and I take that responsibility very seriously. Oh good grief, I’ve grown up.

The way I feel about my body has changed. Before I got pregnant, I was constantly worried about how my body looked, whether I looked fat, whether this outfit made my belly look too big. I exercised a lot in order to improve the way I looked in my clothes. I used all manor of lotions and potions on my skin and spent a fortune on hair care products. When I got pregnant and my bump started to get bigger, there was massive relief that now my belly was supposed to be big, so I could wear tighter tops and let it stick out. After having S, I just wore whatever was hanging around; I’d moved house shortly before giving birth, and it was a long while before I sorted through all my clothes so I didn’t have much to wear, and I didn’t much care about how I looked. So what if my belly was sticking out, I’d just given birth. Now, six months down the line, I think I probably have a healthier relationship with my body. My belly does stick out, but so do most people’s, and really nobody’s ever looking are they; they’re too busy worrying about their own lumps and bumps. I like the way my legs look these days, but I’m more impressed by how well they can carry S and I around and up and down stairs all day without collapsing. I would like to lose a little more weight, but I doubt that will happen before I stop breastfeeding, and I’m not going to stop just for that reason. And these days I’m more likely to just use the baby shampoo that’s on the side of the bath than to rush to Boots to buy the expensive stuff I used before. Who really cares whether my hair smells of a rainforest? I’m just glad on the days it doesn’t smell of baby sick! I do occasionally have days where I’ll wear make up, but that’s mainly because I still have a reasonably bad (for a 31 year old) case of acne that probably won’t clear up until I stop breastfeeding. I’m too lazy to put makeup on every day though; it’s only for really special occasions, or days when the bags under my eyes are just that little bit too dark.

It’s a very strange experience, to suddenly be responsible for another being. Because S’s father is not in the picture, I am acutely aware that I am all she has. If I don’t do something, it won’t get done. When I first got pregnant my boss told me: “I think having a baby might just sort you out.” What he meant was: you can’t sit about all day navel gazing and pondering the futility of it all, if you have to get up and change a nappy and sing several rounds of Row, Row Row Your Boat. I hate to say it, but he was 100% right, just as my friend was when she told me everything would change after S was born.

What Did You Do Today?

Quite often I think a day has been a write-off, and I’ve achieved nothing, only to begin writing about it and find that I didn’t do too badly. I was about to complain that I’d had a bad day, but actually that’s not true.

S was in a fairly good mood this morning, and we had a few rounds of "giggling baby flying around the living room" before getting dressed. When we came back from our morning walk though, the mood nose-dived fairly rapidly, and we found that actually, the only things she wanted to do today were the ones where I was sitting there next to or in front of her. 

I felt like I’d achieved very little when I finally crept down the stairs an hour ago, but actually I walked nearly 10km this morning, washed up the teetering pile of plates left over from yesterday’s complete refusal to be productive (not on a Sunday!), washed and dried a load of nappies and some towels, cleaned the sides and the cooker top, put away some washing upstairs, wiped down the play mats in the living room, and spent a good portion of time sitting on said play mats playing with my little monster. So actually, I think I did quite well.

These days the vacuum cleaner doesn’t always make its way out of the cupboard, and the washing up doesn’t often get dried and put away; but I’ve not run out of clean plates for a while, and my bedroom is no longer carpeted with discarded clean and dirty clothes. On the whole, today wasn’t bad – despite the fact I’ve been unsuccessfully trying to evict a ridiculous headache since 11am, and fell asleep whilst putting S to bed.

I think I tend to fall into the trap of judging my current productivity against my pre-pregnancy days, when I would clean the whole house in a morning, and spend the afternoon baking brownies, reading a book or at the gym. Well, in reality, before I was pregnant my home was probably a lot less clean and tidy than it is now, but you know what I mean. I tended to do more “stuff” then, whereas now I can spend an hour sitting on a play mat pulling faces at S, and that’s a constructive use of my time. 

I suppose priorities change in more ways than one when you have a baby.