Toothpaste Trauma

I knocked my electric toothbrush down the toilet on Sunday afternoon but was too busy ferrying Molly around to tea parties and Birthday parties to sort it out. Monday morning I started brushing my teeth to try and ward off the ongoing morning sickness (week 23 !!) when I realised I was using the aforementioned brush.

Crisis!! First I was sick just thinking about using a brush that had been in the toilet! I desperately tried to rinse with water and then brush with my old brush. But I was still panicking thinking of how it's only about 23 weeks ago that husband had giardisis (or something like that) and I might harm the baby etc etc. Suddenly I remembered that alcohol kills germs so I rushed downstairs to find some. The first thing I found was the cooking brandy for my Jamie Oliver strogonoff so I rushed upstairs and tried to swill around with that..... Sadly morning sickness combined with a deep hatred of brandy then provoked a lot more puking!

Then second crisis, I didn't want the mums at the school gate smelling the brandy and thinking i'd been drinking at 7.30 in the morning! So more brushing (with safe brush) until my gums were on fire!

And all of this before I did the school run......

The School Run

Molly is now at pre-school every morning and it's difficult to say who hates this more her or me. I looked forward to this moment from when she was about 5 weeks old, counting down the months thinking, one day she will be in pre-school and i'll have my life back. Obviously for most of the three and a half years I didn't imagine I would be pregnant with another child but still it seems luxurious and decadent to have this time.

Sadly it hasn't turned out quite how I imagined. Firstly Molly doesn't want to go. Certainly she doesn't want to go every morning and surprise surprise I find I don't want her to go every morning either! I want us to have the freedom to do other things, she's only 3 1/2 for god's sake. And (whisper this) I actually miss her. Sadly there is no choice it's every morning or nothing. Secondly the school run is total hell, and this is before I throw a baby into the mix too. There is no parking at the school you have to park in town and walk 10 mins up hill to the school. You have to pay for parking with the exact money (which I never seem to have) and faff about with putting your registration number into the machine too. Thirdly there is the uniform! Making sure there are always clean shirts etc plus forcing Molly into it every morning. Then there is the million other things to remember ordering lunch, book change day, wellies day etc etc. I'm sure it gets better but I broke down in floods of tears in front of the teacher for the second time this morning after a difficult start to the day. Luckily I can blame it on pregnancy hormones but I'm not sure what i'll do after the baby arrives...

Getting it into perspective

Molly is starting pre-school in 2 weeks time and had a call today from one of my 'friends' saying had was she wearing her uniform to the trial day next week??

I pointed out that as I haven't yet ordered the uniform this would be unlikely. Total shock on the other end of the phone! I explained that as it's not compulsory probably not everyone would have it straight away. Further shock ensued followed by speech that 'they look so cute' and I wouldn't want Molly to feel discriminated against. Bit my tongue and didn't scream down the phone 'SHE'S ONLY 3!!'.

Further bad mother points earned when my friend learned that I haven't, and have no intention of, buying 'school shoes' for her! Again screamed (in my head), 'SHE'S ONLY 3!'. I'm not buying shoes and school shoes (double the bill each time they grow out of them) until I absolutely have to. 'Friend' reminded me that it's part of the uniform and Molly will be an outcast if she doesn't have them.

Was now screaming in my head ('who cares?' 'get a life' 'they're not at school yet' ) but still felt pressured into ringing the school and hysterically telling the headmistress all my failings as a mother. Luckily the headmistress said not to worry, it's not that important and we can sort it out after she starts. She did say if i have a spare red and white checked dress Molly could wear that instead. That made me laugh. Molly spends three quarters of her time on the climbing frame and the other quarter painting we don't have anything resembling a dress much less a red and white checked one.

Just when I was starting to think I might not be such a bad mother, after yesterday at 'Yummy Mummy Farm Park' I was actually interacting with my child in the sandpit, whilst all the other mummies were ignoring their children and texting on their blackberries!

Motherhood Again

After 3 years of total conviction that I was never having another child, now we are. I even gave everything away because I knew I wouldn't need it. Both sets of grandparents and lots of my friends are in shock over the news.

Why didn't I want to? It's complicated...

First I had a horrendous horrendous pregnancy. I had severe morning sickness from the moment of conception to the moment the baby came out.

Then I had an emergency caesarean and lost lots of blood.

Then Molly had terrible colic and screamed all day every day from week 5 to week 12. (Although not at night thank god).

Then I hated being a mother for 2 and a half years and cried every day.

Eventually I got the right counsellor, sorted out some childhood issues (it was all my parents fault!) and now i'm happy and everything is fine. Now I don't mind being a mother and sometimes quite like it, I don't cry anymore and I love my daughter so much it hurts.

And lo and behold as soon as I sorted out my head I passionately wanted another one! This is a happy ending story too because this pregnancy (so far) has been nothing like the first and with just a normal level of sickness.

Secret Stress

I haven't posted for a while because life has been getting in the way...

Things have moved on a bit, now i'm pregnant again (see next post on this) and John is a lot better but now his job is under threat.

To be more exact it's his company rather than his job. If his company folds, which is looking increasingly likely day by day, we've got some options:

- Look for a much lower paid job in the local area

- Get a job outside the area and commute a long way

- Get a job outside the area and move

So now I have 'secret stress' because there is no-one I can properly talk to about this. We've only lived here for 18 months and i've worked really hard to make us part of the community and find some (still not very close) friends, but who is going to want to be friends with us if we might move.

Another thing is that a couple of people I have mentioned this to think that I should just let him commute. Am I the only woman in the world who prefers being with her husband in the evenings? I love my husband, we are happy together, I enjoy spending time with him.

There is a possibility of a 'top job' in the new year but i can't imagine anything worse than being stuck with a toddler and a newborn baby and a husband doing a 12 hour day plus two hours commuting or worse, living away during the week.

My mother (who is so different from me I wonder sometimes whether I was brought by the stork) says 'don't worry about it till it happens'. I'm not like this, I need to think things through and make plans.

Option 1 looks best but it requires a psychological leap i'm not sure my 'over-achieving' psyche can take.

The Motherhood Maze

A visit last week to Blenheim Palace maze reminded me that motherhood is like being in a maze. Without overstretching the metaphor there are several similarities.

Firstly you can be surrounded by people and yet feel totally alone. Sometimes in a room of mothers I do feel they're all on the other side of the hedge from me.

Secondly there is an overwhelming sense that many avenues are now blocked off. I know that you can carry on as before even with a child, there are people that put a baby in a rucksack and climb machu picchu etc etc. However, these people are in the minority. Similarly, I have total respect for mothers who because of their job or hobby or ambition are able to go off and do something for themselves and leave their children for a period of time but I couldn't do it. (I wish I could!). Even once you're married it's difficult to say 'i'm going to do what I want or need to do' if it would be detrimental to the needs or wants of your partner but once you have a child this is magnified.

Thirdly you can feel so often that you have made a wrong turn in your day to day child-rearing or that you are going in circles.

And another thing with mazes is that you work so hard to find the middle and then if you get there ...so what? You feel great for a few minutes but then you just have to try and find your way back out again.

Sick-husband-syndrome

John is ill. He's had some kind of stomach bug now for about 7 days. That's 7 days of lying in bed and moaning (not in a good way either). 7 days of barely eating and 7 days of barely speaking to me or Molly.

In the meantime I've reverted to toddler behaviour: I have great bursts of sympathy followed by much sulking. Molly is confused but I find she asks pertinent questions like 'why won't he take his medicine?' and 'does he need Dr Brown Bear?'.

At least he's accepted (finally) that hot water bottles aren't some evil attempt by me to move him closer to taking (whisper it) "medicine" but might in actual fact help.

How patient am I ? I think tomorrow I may find out. It's Molly's birthday and all the grandparents are here. John is staying in bed and I'm doing battle alone on the most stressful day of the year. Meanwhile i'm off for a sulk.

Brunch

John's birthday today and he's in bed ill rather than come down and face the breakfast battleground.

Breakfast is the hardest meal in our house. Every morning I have a secret fear that Supernanny is going to burst through the front door and take one look at our breakfast routine (Molly's three half-eaten breakfasts; the temper tantrums; the 99 times I have to jump up and fetch something for Molly and best of all the way that every day just as I take my first bite of toast she says "Mummy i've pooed") and give me a good telling off about how to manage breakfast. The truth is that I'm not a morning person and I find confrontation this early in the day very difficult so we've just given up really...

You know you're getting old when your greatest fantasy is brunch with Evan Davis. Everyday I switch on the Today programme and hear his voice and drift away into a reverie about sitting in a smart London restaurant having brunch whilst an interesting and educated man talks to me about current affairs.

In reality he's probably got children too so it would still end up being a conversation about nits.

I've run out....

Molly plays a game at the playground where she's running an icecream shop that only sells Strawberry ice-cream. In answer to requests for any other flavour she says: 'it's-run-out'.

That's how I feel lately 'itsrunout'. I'm not sure exactly what's runout but some or all of the following:

Ability to bite my tongue in front of my MIL.

Patience with my sick husband.

Willingness to change Molly's pants who is still pooing in them after 10 weeks.

Laughing heartily when my parents tell me what is/was wrong with me. (This one ever since my counsellor told me my family was 'not-normal'.)

Putting up with bad smells in the bathroom.

Not spending any money to buy clothes/get my hair re-coloured.

Talking about nits with other mothers.

Whatever it is that's run out I need to get it back pronto because most of these things are going to carry on whether or not I want them to.

Wee-sit

A landmark day today... Long awaited, long dreaded.

I was that mother crawling through the playbarn tunnel to mop up a pool of wee.

Why oh why didn't I put her in the horrible-pink-disney-theme pull-ups?

Why oh why didn't I force her onto the toilet even though she said she didn't need it?

Why just at the moment when (for the first time ever) a yummy-mummy spoke to me and I could have made a friend did my child announce in a penetrating voice that reached the farthest reaches of the garden centre 'Mummy i've had a h-accident'.

Why did yummy-mummy's child crawl through it two seconds before I got there?

Why were there only 3 tissues in my handback (not mansized either) so that i was forced to wipe up the rest with the leg of my own jeans whilst holding back a queue of children desperate to slide through it ?

This isn't how it was supposed to be.