While its difficult for me to get on board with what it stands for, no offence but genocide just isn’t my bag, I like the idea of taking some time to think and voice what you’re thankful for. Something we should all practice more often.
As the saying goes “this too shall pass” and while I’m continuing to battle this anxiety daily, last week I felt so desperately far from those words it seemed I’d lost sight of the forest for the trees. Deep down I know it’ll pass each time but in those moments it seems improbable.
I’m thankful for my little family, the people that open my eyes each time, either by merely existing or for giving me something else to think about. But primarily to Dan for both and for having the patience to let it pass.
Also to my two little loves who help me see the greatness in every waking minute, day and night!
So today I’m very, very thankful
Imagine, I’m there drinking another gallon of coffee at 6pm last night in a bid to feel and look less like a dug-up-corpse for parents evening. It had only been microwaved once so I felt like I was transported to Starbucks, Riverside MotherF*cker.
Fast forward to 10pm, I’m ready for our rock-star-bed-time and now Casey is fully unconscious. Meanwhile I’m so caffeinated I can’t feel my face and that mixed with this anxiety bastard that wont let me sleep as of late, plus the anticipation of one of my closest friends about to give birth any moment, I lay there checking my phone every 5 seconds making sure it was still working.
Obviously the second I fell asleep he woke up in a ravenous frenzy demanding alllll the ounces and by the end of the animalistic feed we were both ready for the long nap. He slept for another 6 hours which is up there in epic proportions to normal.
Only to be woken to messages of an out-of-the-blue engagement – the second of the week (feeling the love guys) and the arrival of Baby! I mean at what point could I sleep after that! ❤️💙
So its made me realise, if I wasn’t up with Casey, I’d be up for another reason and sometimes, it’s just easier to blame someone else.
In other news, while taking out the rubbish this morning, I noticed this little sock situation…
My sock voluntarily did the roll thing – Circa 1994, Year 2 – where the ‘tighter the roll, the closer to God’ or some shit. And while my love for a sock/sandal combo knows no bounds at the moment, this takes me back to when your social status was based entirely on the roll quality.
How I long to go back to a simpler time.
As we draw ever closer to Christmas and being constantly reminded by my daughter every waking minute, its made me reflect on how much more aware of it all she is this year. The excitement is bursting out of her like a can your friend at school would shake in a bid to soak you in humiliation – Unfortunately in this situation I can’t ‘tap her three times’ to minimise the pent up hysteria.
This time last year she could barely speak, had an offensive barnet, tiny gappy teeth and as the title would suggest, if you asked her to say Christmas her response was “Piss”.
It seems we’ve gone in full circle this past year, from telling everyone “Merry Piss” … to her Tangled obsession where she proceeded to tell adults I’d “locked her in the garden”, her inability to pronounce her ‘R’s has had her repeating “rank” in a less than appropriate manner, dropping something in a supermarket and getting very shouty “oh for fzzks Sake!” to telling the entire nursery staff that “Daddy has a tail” – I will never live that down! to very matter-of-factly tell random adults at parties “I don’t like you” and to just now, when Casey’s milk bottle leaked all over him (damn these anti colic contraptions) when she said “Look, piss! its pissed all over him!” –
Note to self – We really must get that swear jar fixed.
Merry almost Piss-mas!
It’s been four years since my love and I said the big ‘L’ word.
After a night at a questionable rave and spending the next 3 nights talking about our life plan together and putting the world to right, it seemed only natural that we’d be inseparable thereafter.
Much to the dislike of his friend group as it would seem a friend of his I’d been seeing for four weeks, and with whom I’d broken up with due to him being an arsehole, before I’d even had Dan in my peripheral, decided to tell the world of our ‘betrayal’ and how we’d ‘gone behind his back’. Even though Dan had taken him out for a drink and said he’d like to take me out – future tense. It’s a shame his friends thought that little of him to ALL turn their backs bar 2. But I’m grateful for his ‘selfish’ sacrifice to chose our life together over them, after they all chose a lie over him. Thankfully my friends seem to like him more than me and when we first got together I’d get messages from them asking to ask Dan to come out with them. – Don’t mind me guys! 😅
In these four years he’s grown into an incredible man, father and friend and I would be lost without him.
4 house moves, two children and 4 chickens – He’s my constant, the Apple in my children’s eyes and gives me more reasons to laugh than cry so as far as I’m concerned, I’m guna chalk that up as a win.
My love, my bud, my ultimate co-Netflixer, my favourite new Dad of 2017. All round good guy, song bird of our generation and all-time fave. – not to mention the laughs, excessive reasons to eye-roll, the endless cleaning of pasta sauce off the ceiling and your offensively fit face.
Thank you for being born so we can love you. I’m so glad I found you in my fridge all those years ago.
“It’s not everyday you tell someone you’re in love with them after 2 days.” – Dan Bliss ’13
I’m a lucky lady to have found you and to have you by my side on this incredible adventure.
You have my whole ❤️
Sorry I’m busy not being busy.
When I thought about bringing Casey home from hospital, I thought about the freedom and time I’d have to spend with him. I’d cut down Beaux’s nursery days by half to spend more time with her too and make up for the nine months I worked solidly while pregnant and spending the time we had together trying to recover from my energy sapping work days while carrying a human parasite. It can’t have been easy and I was ready to make it up to her.
Dan went back to work and I actually felt like I’d been handed a sweet deal. Second time round is a breeze in comparison to the first. You’ve got your shit relatively together, you feel like a baby whisperer (even though Casey spoke any language other than the one we’d learnt with Beaux) the house wasn’t a complete baby death trap and we were a little less thrown in the deep end, with cement blocks on our feet, like you are with your first.
Just shy of 6 weeks in and I was venturing out on my own (just with Casey – fxxk risking a 2-child-meltdown in public when you’ve only just gotten over the uncontrollable, unpredicatable, hormonal outbursts yourself)
I’d offered my services to a close friend to make her a flower crown and some other cute baby shower bits and at that point of juggling two kids and life I thought I was a mixture of Mary Poppins and Kirsty Allsopp so naturally, I headed to Hobby Craft to grab myself a glue gun and fuck shit up.
As we got closer to home I stopped to turn onto our road from the main road (aptly names ’13 bends of death’) a car went from roughly national speed limit, with about 3 foot of breaking into the back of us.
Thankfully it was a smart car (covered in astroturf which was a lol explaining to insurance companies and solicitors) so he managed to completely miss the crash bar and go right under the car, rather than completely throw us into oncoming traffic the other side of the road. Also due to the make of the car and the engine being in the boot he kept his legs which was another win.
And thanks to my ‘fxxk-taking-two-kids-out-solo-just-yet’ attitude, Beaux was at nursery and didn’t take the brunt of the impact emotionally or physically.
Casey was so preserved by the carseat he wouldn’t have felt much other than shock, (although the car had been so shunted I couldn’t open his door) but paramedics assessed him at the scene and said it would be best to go home and monitor him in his usual environment.
The adrenaline f*cked my shit up and while I showed no signs of anything at the time, I proceeded to vomit every day for two weeks and by the end of the first week I’d lost sensation in my arm and hands. CT and x-ray were clear and it was diagnosed as muscle spasms in my neck pinching my nerves causing loss of feeling – just what you need while changing 928391274012984 new born nappies a day. Also poppers – fuck you.
Fast forward to 2.5 months later, I’ve had to have physio 2/3 times a week, hours upon hours away from my children after having this dreamy plan of being with them like I was supposed to and now being crippled with anxiety.
Anxiety that I could’ve done more, anxiety driving, anxiety that I had to stop BFing, anxiety to take the medication I was prescribed, anxiety eating, anxiety thinking about having to go out, anxiety sleeping, anxiety of having to get help which would lead to more time away from my children. It’s ruined birthdays, nights out, missed weddings, missed appointments, missed out. There’s only so many excuses you can make up before you start looking like a dickhead.
The car was replaced and no one was hurt badly but all this time I’ve missed can’t and while my kids drive me insane I’d give anything to not have had this start to our journey together.
Although its catapulted me entirely away from any form of baby blues, after much anxiety, cold calling the surgery and cancelling appointment after appointment, I got diagnosed with ‘postpartum maternal separation anxiety’ and it is an absolute b*tch! I’m hopeful that I’ll see the sunshine soon, but currently my days are as grey as they are long.
Hoping to get my shit together soon.
So I figured as I’m currently in the ‘warm fuzzy’ point of the day, where I’ve just put my eldest to bed and she’s voluntarily kissed my forehead telling me she loves me more than the world, that right now is a better place to start than any.
(Although it could just be the glass of bubbles I’ve just poured…)
Motherhood is tough, it really isn’t for sissies and you need to be thick skinned – mostly, I’ve learnt, for the moments I’ve been faced with recently like when my 2.5 year old has told me she doesn’t want to be my best friend ever again or that once again, Daddy is flavour of the moment for both of them!
In all fairness, Daddy is always flavour of the moment. They’re his kryptonite and one look from them seems to ignite an irrational emotion in him that has been completely absent till now – Tears from just looking at our sons tiny hand or after he’s put our daughter to bed and she’s been heart wrenchingly cute. So obviously his threats are empty as he gives in to their every whim. It really is true what they say, girls wrap their Daddys around their little fingers. Although in this case, even our sons fingers are causing him to surrender into a ball of warm, fuzzy Bliss.
Meanwhile I’m bad cop for even implying that our daughter can’t go to bed wearing a dress she’s been wearing all day. Daddy put her to bed so naturally when I went to check on her she had it on under her pyjamas.. and that right their is his answer for ‘negotiation’ something essential in all parenting journeys.
And so I think I’ll end it there, before the warm fuzz wears off thinking of what impractical choice of nightwear she’ll be in tomorrow night. 😅