I challenged myself to stand, starkers, in front of a full length mirror and pick one thing about my body that is 'okay'.  It was a harder task then it sounds. I saw my lank hair.  I saw my weary eyes.  I saw my straggly brows.  I saw a double chin.  I saw bingo wings. I saw a thick waist. I saw a forehead scored with creases and lines.   I saw a large overhanging belly ravaged with stretchmarks. I saw back fat. I saw tits I could dust my toes with.  I eventually decided on my knees. My knees are okay.  I could look at my knees without feeling sick.  They're not fab knees by any means.  They're just inoffensive. 

If I had to describe myself I'd say 5 ft 7 ish, blue/green eyes,  dark red hair, pale skin, pierced,  tattooed, dowdy,  aged,  fat and ugly.  

The next task was even harder; to look at my inner reflection.  The 'Me'. My inner reflection is crippled by mental illness.  I used to be lots of things.  I had infinite likes and dislikes.  I could inspire and be inspired. I was opinionated and present.  I could lead. I was alive. I had a look. I could be vibrant,  quirky,  bubbly,  intense and yes.... fucking annoying.  But I was someone (at times it felt like I was several someones) I was something.  

Now? I'm nobody.  I'm nothing. 

It's not an emo thing.  It's an empty thing. 

I rarely leave the house. I don't speak to anyone.  I have no hobbies or interests anymore.  The few friends I have, live in my computer.  I rarely wear makeup.  I often forget to brush my hair.  I  have only a handful of clothes; they're bland.   I have to concentrate to remember to talk or move or even just to be. I'm insular, anxious, sad, angry, lonely boring, numb and empty.  I enjoy very few things other than The Spawn.

I can't define myself because there's not enough me to define.

I worry that my kids deserve better.  That they deserve more.  That they'll resent me for hardly going out.  For not being interesting or funny or beautiful.  For failing at Pinterest. 

So I asked them to describe me.  And they did. 

Kids are brutal.  And honest.  I expected them to say that I'm fat, cross, sad, boring and never go anywhere or do anything with them.  

Never assume how others see you.  Don't let who and what you think you are define how you think others see you. They have their own eyes and minds.

Take a walk outside your mind.

You only have one life. It's wasted if you live it inside yourself.

We are our own prison.

I'm Mamaundone,  I have okay knees, awesome kids and my story isn't over yet .

There's a lot of blank pages to fill.



Look in a mirror today.  Tell me:

* One part of your body you like
* Something about your face you like
* Three positive things about your personality.

Dealing with having a school age child.

Sending your first child to school can be a daunting experience for both parent and child as emotions tangle and twist  We seem to spend all day clock watching until they come home yet once we collect them we can be left with the feeling that we left one child at school yet they hand you an entirely different one to take home again.

• Take a snack

A whole day at school is draining on many levels, whether they realise it or not they're flaming knackered.  Tiredness can have a direct link to behaviour as can hunger.  Take a healthy high energy snack such as a banana or even some home-made flapjack to prevent their behaviour from plummeting.

•  Hold fire

It's natural to want to know everything about their day, you've missed them and their voice.  So they've come out of school and you want to know what they did, what they ate, what they played, who they played with and you're met with 'Can't remember' ... 'can't remember' .... 'don't know'.  How can they not know? They've been there all day?  It's frustrating and they appear sulky and enthused which in turn makes us worry that maybe they hate it, maybe they had a rubbish time, maybe they're angry at us for sending them.  Worse, maybe they didn't miss us.  Our chirpy, cheerful, adorable best friend doesn't appear to want to talk to us.  It's okay.  It's really not about you.  They're tired, possibly overwhelmed and they're still processing their day themselves.  Let them adjust to the transition of school to home.  Give them a hug, tell them you missed them and ask them if they had a good day at school, and accept the yes/no answer for now.  If you feel uncomfortable in their silence pick something different to chat about, relay your day to them or discuss things you see on the way home.

•  Hulk syndrome

Don't be alarmed if your little angel turns into Hulk when you get home.  They're argumentative, volatile and bloody hard work. Oh my god, what has school done to them?!  School is a big change for them.  It's hard work having to do as you're told all day, learning new boundaries and new skills.  The teachers assure you they're wonderful at school, everything you hoped they'd be yet they come home and they're horrid.  Don't laugh but this is actually a compliment to your parenting.  The fact that they let go when they let home is testament to how secure they feel at home and how secure they are in your love for them that they feel able to let go the pent up energy and frustrations of having to be good all day at school.  If you're like this at school, there's dire consequences, people and teachers may not like you, you may be seen as a failure or labelled and you may be excluded, not just in the traditional school sense but socially too.   Never underestimate the concentration and effort it takes to be a school child.  At home they can lash out safe in the knoweldge that you will love them anyway.  How often have you had a bloody awful day and inadvertently taken it out on your spouse?  We're often most awful to those we love most because we trust that they will take it, absorb it and then help us calm.  It's natural and normal. They're adjusting.

•  Choose your questions carefully

Sometimes simply asking a huge open ended question like 'How was your day at school?' although giving them the most scope and room to answer it is actually more likely to get the shorted answer.  I usually allow Things One and Two an hour or so at home to aclimatise then ask specific questions over time such as:

* What was your favourate thing about school today?
* Was there anything you didn't like about school today?
* Who made you smile/laugh the most today?
* Did anyone make you sad or angry today?
*What did you eat for dinner/who did you have your dinner with?
* What did you do at playtime?

Through being specific it aids their reflection and recollection and gives opportunity for you to gain an insight into how their day went as well as giving you early warning signs to any potential problems.

•  After school activities

Don't go wild with planning extra curricular activities.  Sometimes kids can gain just as much from being allowed to chill at home.  Sometimes they need to touch base at home, absorb family time and alone time.  To not have to do anything.

• Time chores

Let them know what to expect, if they need to tidy their room or put their ashing away let them know they they have to do x and it needs doing by a certain time.  Don't leave it until the end of the day when they're overtired and likely to cause arguments.

•  Reconnect

Take time out to reconnect with your child after a busy day.  Physical re-connection is just as vital as verbal, whether you're snuggling up on the sofa with them watching tv or reading a story together or even playing a game, a hug or a squeeze speaks loudly to the soul and the words it speaks are 'I love you.  You're home.'  Forget the pots of the washing and the tidy your rooms for a bit, if only for twenty minutes and just 'be' together.

The moon is made of cheese (..and other such tales)

Liar liar your bums on fire. Or it bloody well should be.  I'm astounded that my nose has not yet grown large enough to play hoopla on.  Whilst preaching to The Spawn the absolute necessitity to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth at all times we fail to realise the full extent of our hypocracy.

So the biggee's aside, you know Father Christmas, The Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy there's all the other white little lies we tell day to day because as I've said before, anything for an easy life.

Like when I'm hiding in the kitchen scoffing biscuits and chocolate yet when asked by The Spawn I solemnly declare i'm cooking tea and they can't possibly come in because it's hot hot hot and i'm terribly busy.

Then if they do happen to catch me stuffing my face and ask for some I apologise sincerely because 'I'm so sorry darlings this is grown up chocolate/ice cream and children aren't allowed it.  It's full of grown up things.  You can have a banana if you want?"

Or when I claim to be having a shit when really i'm just sat on the loo trying to grab a quick 40 winks.

Then there's the empty threats that you never have any intention whatsoever of carrying out irregardless of how utterly and cockle warmingly tempting they may appear such as 'if you don't do x, Christmas/after school club/your sleepover is cancelled' or the infamous 'if you don't behave we're going home right now' or the old favourate (sorry teachers. sorry god) 'RIGHT tomorrow we're talking to your teacher about this behavior of yours' which makes them positively quiver with the fears because seemingly it's terribly more important to be seen as well behaved to their teachers then it is to their bloody parents, don't mind me Spawn, you know...I only birthed you (water melon out of a cherry much?)

Lets not neglect the meal time lies 'it's not a vegetable! it's sports candy!!!' ... 'Ooooh magic trees, that's what Tree-Fu Tom eats to fuel his magic! nom nom!" (Broccoli) 'wowee look at those fluffy clouds, nom nom!" (cauliflower)

It would be rude not to mention the old wife tales tales and miscellaneous lies at this point, we've all heard /used them 'if you the wind changes your face will stay like that' ... 'I saw that.  I have eyes in the back of my head'  ... 'eat your carrots they'll help you see in the dark' ... 'eat your crusts they'll make your hair curl' ...'it won't hurt (much)' 'yes we're nearly there, just round this big corner' ... 'if you don't get back here by the time I count to ten i'm going'

Oh and then there's the lies purely for shits and giggles because we all need a hobby, parents hobbies just happen to often be picking on their spawn.  It's either that or alcohol.  These consist of things such as 'if you don't tidy your room, rats will chew through all your stuff and cover your room in poo' ... 'if you don't put your shoes on properly, eventually your feet come loose and fall off' .. 'oh dear you have toetus.....'

Oh shush. Are you genuinely trying to tell me you have never ever lied to your child?

See? so many lies.  Parents are quite awful beings really.  Thankfully The Spawn can be much awfuller....even so far as being awfullist.  It's okay though, when you eject the placenta they secretly jab you with a love venom which means even when they're vile and beastly you adore them...in a way....a little bit....sometimes.

I watch you when you are sleeping

I love to watch The Toddler whilst he's asleep, inhaling his very essence.  I want to commit every single detail to my memory and store it in a draw in my heart.  I could stare for hours at the soft dimples of his knuckles in his pudgy little hands, dirty fingernails scruffy from a mornings play.  I wish I could count every crease, every hair, every indentation.  The rise and fall of his chest mezmorises me; a lullaby. I drink the sound of his breathing and the sighs that punctuate the beautiful silence.  I resist the urge, barely, to run my fingers through the golden tangles of his hair or to stroke his pinked cheeks.  I stare in marvel, unable to comprehend that he's part of me, this perfection, is part of me and me of him.  That I created him.  I grew him.  I nurtured him. I birthed him. This amazing being he is.  I look at him and my heart stops, I can't breath and for that moment, i don't even want to.  I'm incapable of looking at him and upholding the fact that he was once inside me, this whole complete beautiful human. One day he'll be a grown up, a man with stubble on his chin, thick hair on his legs, broad shoulders and hands that dwarf mine.  Until then......I shall watch him whilst he's sleeping and protect him from the world.

I never truly understood  love was until I had Children, I still don't understand it....it gets deeper every day though.  Impossibly so.

I see dead things

I'm not sure if it's atrociously morbid or horrendously inquisitive.  Thing Two built a nest today, on top of the coal cupboard made from grass and marbles and other such like.  Thing Two also picked up a dead bird, yes, with her hands.  Apparently she held it and wanted to lay it in her nest.

The Spaghetti Incident

Sometimes if the children are relatively quiet you make the brave decision that so long as they're not arguing nor pestering you don't actually want to know exactly what it is they're getting up to doing.  Scrap that, there's no bravery about it, it's actually rather wussy parenting, a total cop out, whilst you curl up on the sofa and remember the times when you used to be able to last and try and emanate them if only by memory.

So, what indeed were Thing One and Thing Two doing last night that kept them a) so utterly engrossed b) relatively quiet and c) didn't cause them to throttle each other? 

Lists.  They both scuttled into the kitchen together with pen and paper and went through the pantry, the fridge and the freezer writing down every food item we had.  Yes, really .  Did i mention my spawn are a little strange?

The Husband and I tried our utmost to ignore the ominous sounds of the fridge and freezer opening and jars and cans being moved around whilst our internal narratives muttered the mantra 'don't.want.to.know'

Inevitably there comes a point when you can hide in ignorance no longer and the bliss of it is broken along with the spaghetti.  Whilst emptying cupboards they dropped an open pack of dried spaghetti which went, yes you guessed it, everywhere. Oh bollocks.

Still, could have been worse I guess....like when I accidentally smashed bottle of vinegar smashed last week. Ooops.

Reflection and appreciation.

No matter how much they test and try us throughout the day, watching them when they sleep and seeing their exuberence when they wake means all is forgiven and the day starts anew, the slate is both clean and pure again as our heart takes a jump and a flutter and grows again, each day getting bigger with more love.



& when we look at them we feel alive, this is real life.  Our life.

No matter where it takes us, the twists and the turns I can't ever regret any of it for it has brought me here, to now and with my three babies, there's nowhere else i'd rather be. This is the meaning of life.

This is love.

Soiled

Whilst waiting for Thing One to come out of school at home time (he's always last) I was casually checking through Thing Two's hair, as you do.

Me: 'Have you been playing in sand today [Thing Two]?'
Thing Two: (Indignantly) 'No!'

(pause)

Thing Two: 'I was playing in soil'

How she quite managed to play in soil, have fun and still have clean clothes is simply beyond me, Thing One just has to look at muck and he's filthy.

I adore her, she's the only person that brings me flowers.

Aren't children grim?

Whilst sharing is to be commended and encouraged, some things should never ever be shared.

Thing Two was playing outside with her friend M. Apparantly M had hurt her knee and it was bleeding a tiny bit so Thing Two asked if I could give M a plaster.

Later, Thing Two decided she'd had enough of playing outside and wanted to come in citing that her fingers were sore (I guess they were just a tad cold) to which M piped up 'you can have my plaster if you want!' Her fingers at the ready to peel it off her own knee. Thing Two is a dead pan queen of rationality and simply replied 'they're not bleeding, they're just sore'

Phew. I was debating how fast I could launch myself out of the window whilst not getting my copious arse wedged, should she have accepted.

Ray of light

What was that ball of light that dared to show it's face in the sky this morning? Who painted the grey, blue? It always feels tremendously worse being cooped up indoors when it isn't pissing it down.  I rather fancied my chances at making a bid for freedom tomorrow yet I fear the Law of the Sod will turn the rain switch to 'on' again, bugger. Then there's the small inconvenience of the impending untrackable delivery of Thing Two's new lego that she chose with birthday money she received nearly 9 months ago. Double bugger.

Once again i'm failing miserably at getting back on the dieting wagon and yet still have another 14-21lbs to lose. My willpower is abysmal at the moment so whilst awaiting for it to get back on track.......I baked ginger biscuits. Sorry hips, I didn't mean to.  I do have the beginnings of a considerably epic ramble on weight loss in my drafts waiting to be completed yet alas it shall indeed have to wait a little longer. The internet is down, again and I have been forced to download an application for my phone to compose this and my thumb is about to wither from over exertion.

Thing Two is full of cold and Thing One walked approximately six miles with The Husband après school and yet they still had the energy to be little sods after tea the highlights of which included throwing cat food at each other and paper aeroplanes down the toilet (then at the walls) and lets not forget the fact one of them turned the heating up to 25c.

Despite teething three teeth, The Toddler is stupendously exhausting to watch and has managed to escape and do the stair game more times then I can count. The little hoodlum laughed in the face of The Husbands attempts to restrain these antics and in an exhibition of sheer anarchy managed to remove the door wedge and upturn the book box both of which should have foiled him.

Irregardless of his mighty escapades he still petitioned against sleep and another 1h45m bedtime ensued (with 5 stories) before he finally admitted defeat and boobed to sleep at around 22.45.

Im vastly losing the fading memories of whatever it was I used to actually do with my evenings before I was chained to the bed (steady on! Out of the gutter...) by boob and mummy dependants though The Husband (bless him) frequently tries to remind me at the most unorthodox times, usually earning himself a filthy glower and a pinch to bring him to his senses.  I'm too tired to be a sex goddess darling. Sleep is the new sex.



I'll leave you with another picture from this morning. I threw open the window and inhaled the light swallowing it soul deep and back again and for a glancing second I touched hope. Mere seconds in time and yet everything stopped and my mind was blissfully silent.