Kids TV

I very much have a love/hate relationship with children’s TV. Over the last 2 years, I have grown to enjoy a few. I have catogorised them. We have the ‘I actually cannot fucking watch this, no way thank you!’, we then have ‘it’s totally mind numbing but he likes it, so ok’ and ‘I bloody love this and I will watch it when you’re not even here’.

Category 1 – ‘I actually cannot fucking watch this, no way thank you!’ – One (of many) in this catogory for me has to be ‘Teletubbies’ – yes it’s STILL going! How I’ve know idea but I cannot watch those ‘tubby’ coloured weird things pottering around the place making noises…they can ride a bike, why don’t they talk!!!!??? And a baby for a sun…REALLY! Then there’s the infuriating screening of ‘Show me show me’ which literally sends me into melt down mode! NO, DONT SHOW ME! Its shite and who cares where Miss a Mouse and Stuffy are!!!

Category 2 – it’s totally mind numbing but he likes it, so ok’ – this, for me, has to be ‘Rastamouse’. Whilst I do find myself laughing, it’s not because I think they are that funny, it’s because its so rubbish I cant help but giggle. I may have to consider never putting it on again if the ‘easy crew’ don’t pull up their pants! Perhaps it’s because I’m getting on a bit and not totally ‘down with the kids’ these days! Also in this category, I have Topsy and Tim. Whilst I don’t mind it, I find it frustrating trying to come to terms with the fact that firstly, they aren’t twins at all! (WHATTTT!!!) secondly, their mum was on Eastenders playing Max Brannings lover! Thirdly, their mum isn’t actually the mother to either of them! (again, WHATTTT!), fourthly they are playing the part of 4 year olds dispite being about 8! And lastly, the episodes on them moving house dragged on so much, I no longer give a shit about the fact that topsy and tim don’t want to move! Pack up and piss off already! It’s totally annoying!

Category 3 – I bloody love this and I will watch it when you’re not even here’ – My all time favourite Mickey Mouse! I love it! Infact, the disney channel is a favourite in our house. We love disney! Also making it into this caroeoft is ‘The Clangers’ have to give a special mention. They’ve just returned after last being aired between 1969-1972, those mouse creature things are back on our screens eating green soup from the soup dragon on their small blue planet! I Archie loves that programme (despite them speaking in whistle)!

How much kids TV do you watch? 

Love Yawning Mummy ❤️

Breast or bottle?

A topic that is widely discussed with lots of different opinions! A topic that when people write about it, it makes mums everywhere clench their bum cheeks.

We are told and reminded daily whether it be via social media, blogs or tv adverts that breast is best. And they are right. It is. In the first few days our baby gets everything they need from us to build up immunity and the important colostrum we produce is passed onto them. It’s a chance to bond with your baby as well as taking confidence knowing you are giving them the best you can. 

It’s not always that simple though.

We all know breast feeding is not only natural it’s also great for bonding, great for little ones and great for helping loose weight and tighten those stomach muscles without any actual excercises, BUT sometimes it sounds far easier than it actually is. Breast feeding can be extremly stressful and it doesn’t always come naturally. There can be latching problems, problems with milk production, infection, soreness, lack of confidence and on some occasions, a lot of pain. Not to mention those mums that have had things such as breast cancer. Some mums find it easy. Some find it very difficult. Some don’t stress about how much milk their little ones are getting and some do nothing but think about it! We are all different. 

The pressure of breastfeeding is sometimes enough to put new mums off altogether and when I had my little one 2 years ago, It was so brutally embedded into my head that I had no other option. I was always going to feed myself, I didn’t need a midwife to tell me I would be a terrible mother if I didn’t. 

My little one had trouble latching on and having just had a nasty 38 hour labour resulting in an emergency C section I also had trouble holding him in the right positions. I had my breasts man handled by far too many people trying to assist and by the end of my 4 days in hospital I wasn’t feeling confidant at all and I had an extremly sore left boob! I did stress about it, I did worry about how much milk he was actually getting. It did hurt (a lot!), I did cry, not only when feeding but when I knew a feed was due on anticipation of the pain. I fed on demand for a very hungry little boy who was feeding every hour on the hour. I tried, very hard, to make things easier for us both. There was feeding pillows, breast pumps (not pretty!), nipple shields…you name it, I had it. Along with the million breast pads I had on hand. God help you if you fogot to put one of those on before you left the house…hello wet nips!

The struggle to feed on both sides was a daily battle and il’d express using what can only be described as a farming tool. As natural as this was, neither myself nor my baby took to it like duck to water. It was a daily battle and it was totally and utterly mentally, physically and emotionally draining. I felt trapped, unprepared (despite having a breastfeeding lady come out to me and watching countless videos on how to latch properly) and alone. I didn’t like to feed in public (a personal choice) so going out was brief. I went onto doing both breast and formula feeds (at least daddy could help with the night feeds) and eventually came to the decision, after weeks of crying and feeling guilty about even thinking about it, to stop breastfeeding. I expressed as much as I could and stored it up but eventually that run out and my little one was solely on formula. A decision that was not an easy one to reach. 

Breastfeeding is hard, never underestimate it. Those first few days can be enough to send you over the edge. Your boobs hurt, you have them squeezed by strangers a lot and it’s all new! No matter what others say, this is YOUR choice, and as much as I would encourage everyone to feed themselves (numerous health benifits not to mention no washing bottles, no waiting for a bottle to cool or kettle to boil and no cost!) and battle through as it does get easier, if you can’t do it or it’s causing you to question your existence, that’s ok! It’s ok to consider other options, it’s ok to express and give a bottle, it’s ok to introduce formula and mix the two, it’s ok when you come to the decision (which isn’t easy let me tell you…guilt does set in) to move onto to formula and give it up and it’s ok if you decide not to feed yourself at all. It’s ok because its your choice and ultimately when you come to a decision it’ll be the right one for you. Don’t feel guilty, don’t feel pressured and don’t feel alone, there are millions of mums right there with you when your crying at 2am after trying to get your baby to latch onto a cracked raw nipple for the last hour or preparing your first bottle is all too much. You’re not alone what ever your decision! Don’t be enemies or judge. We’ve all got each others back and we all have something in common. We’re all called mummy!

Happy mummy, happy baby! 

Love Yawning Mummy ❤️

The Struggles Of A Working Mum

Your maternity leave is on the horizon and you’ve decided to take a whole year off.

The day finally arrives and after the struggle of trying to keep up whilst carrying a humungous belly around with you on your commute, its time to enjoy day 1 of 365…

Your spring clean is in full swing and you have literally scrubbed your house within an inch of its life. The baby’s clothes have been washed, ironed and folded more times than your mums old towel she’s had since 1865 and you’ve stocked the freezer with pre made dinners ready for the months ahead. Your prep is done and re done and done again!

Then comes the wait…the aggonising wait that leaves you wondering with every flinch, kick or tiny bit of wee that slips out (yes that happens towards a the end!) whether this was it! Was this baby coming!!!??

Just when i’ld given up waiting and totally got my head around the fact that it just wasn’t going to happen and I would quite possibly end up being pregnant forever, my waters broke! It was midnight and I still wasn’t sure if this meant the baby was coming or i’ld just wet myself?

Nope. The baby was definately coming, all be it not for another long painful 38 hours when we welcomed a tiny wrinkley baggy skinned boy into the world via C section.

And maternity leave was now official…I was a mummy and I had almost a year to nurture my new baby and watch him get a little personally. How lucky was I!

Nobody can prepare you for the amazing, exhausting, excillarating ride ahead. The ride that takes you on such  a journey to the deepest of places in your heart that suddenly you wonder if you new what love really was before this moment. The ride that has lots of ups and downs but you could stay on it forever!

Until those 365 days are over and it’s time to return to work! Where the fuck did that go!?

In the time I had with my baby whist on maternity leave, we built a bond that is so unbelievably incredible that words fail me. I’ve watched my baby grow, learn and go through developmental leaps, as well as reach milestones, smile for the first, start eating, sit up on his own, roll over and much much more…looking back over the year, we’ve had a ball, despite the days that he just wouldn’t settle, the ridiculous weird colorued dirty nappies I’ve changed and being wee’d on more times than I’ve showered! The year was totally mind blowing!

The call comes from work and you’ve agreed the terms for your return…and then it hits you…I’m going to have to leave my baby!

The search for the best childcare options is on! Childminder? Nursery? Nanny? Oh god, where do I start!

We decided on a nursery due the hours I needed and not being able to find a childminder locally that had the availability I needed at this time. So I arranged a visit. It was lovley, the staff were friendly, the place was clean, the food encouraged a healthy balanced diet, they were graded outstanding by Ofsted and the children all looked like they were having fun. So I signed up and our settling in sessions began.

The first session was relatively short and I stayed with him the whole time, wondering how on earth I was going to get up and leave him in the hands of people I didn’t know a few days a week whilst I went to work…how did parents do it? The second session I was encouraged to leave him for a while, and so with a heavy heart, I kissed him goodbye and left the room…he didn’t give mummy a second look! I went 20 metres round the corner (literally…just incase) and for the the first time since becoming a mummy, I had my nails done! Yep, I did and although it was lovely I spent the whole time checking my phone incase they had called. Did I have signal? Did I write my number down correctly?

I returned to see my little boy having fun, without mummy! As heartbreaking as it was for me that he felt he was ok without me, he was enjoying himself and quite frankly didn’t give a shit about me. I suppose it’s better than watching him have a melt down!

The first day of work arrived and the morning routine was totally out of sorts, not to mention that we were staying in a hotel waiting for the keys to our new house we were waiting to complete on any day now! His nursery bag was packed and it was time to do it…it was time to go to work! (Waaaaaa!!!)

The car journey was mainly spent keeping things as normal as possible trying to reassure my precious little one that it would be ok and that mummy would be back at the end of the day. We arrived at nursery and it was time to go in…

The girls were lovely and Archie seemed ok, so ok infact that he went off playing without giving me a second glance. We stayed for a little while to check he was happy and reluctantly, after quite a lot of pushing and bugging from my husband, we left, closing the door behind us! I should have worn waterproof mascara!

The tears began and my freshly done makeup which I managed to put on (a rarity but I couldn’t turn up to work after a year looking worse for wear) was totally ruined!

Standing on the platform I could literaly feel my heart bleeding! I was hurting, hurting so much! It’s like I’ld lost a limb and il’d only been gone 10 minutes. Would he be ok? What would happen when he realises I wasn’t there in a few hours?, Will they change his bum regularly?, Will the other children be kind to him? Should I just go home? The questions were endless and they whirled around in my brain over and over. I knew he’d be ok. I wouldn’t have left him if I really had any doubt.

Stood on the station platform watching trains come and go waiting for mine was tourture. I could almost see the nursery building in the distance hoping I was making the right decision, besides, I was going back to work so we could give him everything we possibly can, right?

The train pulls in and it’s the last chance to back out…I got on.

I sat down and for the first time in a year, listened to the driver tannoy over that there were delays. Of corse there were! Here we go again!

My first day at work was mainly spent crying, putting on a brave face and inundating nursery with calls to check up on him, longing for the clock to reach 5.30pm so I could get back to him. The weeks followed and were very similar, people said this would get easier!!?

Then came the days when separation anxiety kicked in and he would just sob at the nursery gates whilst climbing up to my head refusing to let go of whatever part of me he had clung onto (usually my hair or kneck but occasionally a boob…that hurt!). If it wasn’t bad enough before, things just got cranked up a notch.

Walking away from your baby who is sobbing just wanting you to stay with them has to be THE hardest thing I have ever had to do. It goes against every instict in your body and tugs so hard at those heart strings it makes you feel sick. Your whole body goes into melt down and you question everything. Was this worth it? Could we live in a shoe like the little old lady to keep the costs down?

Despite all of this and a year down the line, it doesn’t get much easier. It still breaks my heart to leave him 3 days a week (even though he has fun). When he falls ill with a cold or just doesn’t want to leave me on the odd day he’s not feeling 100% and would much prefer to cuddle up on the sofa with mummy (me too!), those are the worst days…those are the days that I stand on that platform and once again have to deal with the guilt of being a working mum, along with the pain that  shoots through my heart like someone has burst it! Then you see a mum taking her toddler to London for the day and it deflates you even more!

But, he has fun with his friends, he is learning to be very independant (and stubborn) and the bright little boy he is, is flourishing and excelling himself…I couldn’t be prouder. So the days when I feel like the worst mother in the world, I know when I pick him up later and see his little face light up whilst he tells me what he has done that day, that I will remember why I work in the first place. To make sure my children have all that I can give them. That includes the time away from us to allow them to be independant, put into practice what mummy and daddy has taught them, learn about the world around them, open up opportunities for them and come to realise that no matter what happens, we will always come back.

Some people enjoy going back to work to surround themsleves with people called ‘adults’ and engage in adult conversation. Some people need to to just be them for the day. Some people enjoy the ‘break’…besides, mummy’s do make the best employees! We can multi task (there’s never just 1 thing to do at any one time), we are punctual (God help you if dinner isn’t served for 4.30pm and you have a hungry toddler on your hands!), we work super well under pressure (pressure? What pressure?), negotiation skills that only top players could posses (if you let me change your bum without fuss all day, you can have lots of TV time at the weekend) and we have more stamina than a kangaroo that can hop 15-20 at a time and stay at full speed for 20 miles! (our working day is 24hours), 9-5 you say? No problem!)…but me, personally, I have my days that I’d prefer to be home with my toddler engaging in coversation about diggers, poo and battling to change bums!

But needs must sometimes and it’s ok. It’s ok because you’ve made sure your children know you love them. It’s ok because you’ve made sure they know you will back. It’s ok because despite the shaky bottom lip, they have fun. It’s ok because even though you teach them, they are still learning without you. It’s ok because they are making friends. It’s ok because they are learning to be independant. It’s ok because they are getting prepared for school…It’s ok because they are loved.

Love Yawning Mummy ❤️

Lunching

Lunch…the thing that happened every day. It was a given, an automatic stomach rumbling reaction. What you would think about immediately after breakfast and not stop thinking about until it was in your belly! Until I had a baby…

The term ‘baby brain’ is said a lot, and lots of people dismiss it on the assumption it’s just something said when you’re pregnant or just had a little one…its not its a real thing! Literally a medical condition you have no control over and in some instances gives you short term memory loss, like with me…I totally forgot to eat!!! 

Not sure how that happens, and for those that know me will also know just how much I LOVE my grub! Being Italian, my pasta portions aren’t the size of that posh restaurant you once went too and ended up with a McDonald’s chaser later on that evening because you were hungry again. Oh no, my pasta portions usually spill over the edge of the bowl scooped up with a nice piece of proper garlic bread and fill you up for 2 days! Not that I eat it all (well, not all of the time anyway!), but because I might, and it’s better to have too much than not enough, right? But somehow it happens, you just forget to eat. You spend your time concentrating so much on this new little bundle you have the responsibility to feed and look after that you totally neglect yourself, not through want or even being conscious of it but because your mind is so distracted and baby brain is in full swing! Sometimes it would get to 3pm before I’ld realise I hadn’t eaten and only be reminded by my stomach singing ‘like a bat out of hell’ and that little voice in my head reminding me that I needed to eat to give all I can to my baby when he feeds…and to keep me standing! Bloody baby brain! Time to set an alarm for my feeding times too!

You imagine your lunch dates with friends, family, old colleagues and not forgetting those family lunches with daddy…

Lunch dates, now your little one has arrived, have a very different meaning. They no longer involve having conversations with actual sentences that start with a capital and end with a full stop. They tend to go something like this when you have a new born…

“So I was watching This Morning and…what was I saying…”

“I got up this morning to…oh I can’t remember where I was going with this”

“We went for a walk today and I sat down to set my alarms for a feed and …shit, he’s due a feed, catch you later!”

You see a pattern emerging…

And then a toddler

“We were going to a class today and on the way…”

“Don’t do that!”

“Sorry where was I, so, on the way to the class…”

“Stop that now please!”

“We finally got there and he wanted a…”

“That’s enough, we’re going home!”

Yeah…a sentence rarely gets finished!

When you go to lunch with those that don’t have children, they literally have no idea what to do. They usually do one of two things:

1. Remind you where you stopped your conversation regularly so you can start again.
2. Let out a ‘that’s fucking annoying’ giggle. 

Whichever one you do, it’s totally ok, we hear ya, we’re thinking the same things and are repeatedly apologising in our heads and occasionally out loud when something really distracting happens! And in the meantime, that catch up you was meant to be having hasn’t allowed you to catch up with anything at all and the £3.95 coffee you ordered (with added syrup, 10 sugars and cream on top just because) has now gone stone cold and starting to fement. 

Lunch is no longer how it used to be and wine is now no longer the main dish (it only puts you to sleep these days anyway!) but it is far more interesting. Besides, it stops you finishing that full fat drink and almond crossant you shouldn’t really be having (but it does mean you can treat yourself to chocolate later because you’ve been good!). 

Love Yawning Mummy ❤️

The clock is ticking – will we be out by 10?

Before you have your baby, you imagine sitting in Costa’s when they arrive looking great at 9am, because you’ll be up all night to get things done, right?

The reality is you’ll finally make it to Costa’s at 4pm when you’ve gotten round to having a shower (or at least seeing running water), slapping some foundation on to hide the blotchy moisture deprived skin and putting your maternity jeans on because they’re comfy and then realising half way through your cold coffee that it’s gone 4pm and you need to get back for the next feed in 10mins!

When my midwife used to come round or I would go to the drop in clinic to have my growing baby weighed once a week, they used to remind me of local baby groups that were on. They all seemed lovely! Baby massage, baby sensory, rhyme time…and then you read the leaflet you folded 58 times to shove in your back pocket for later and realise 98% of them start at 9am! 

Why? Who thought it would be a good idea to start a group for mums with babies from 0-6 months at this time… 9AM…My eyes were are still adjusting to the light and my bra still hanging on the bedroom chair as I slouched on the sofa with my mesmerising newborn! So what makes these people think that you’ll be functional at this ungodly hour? 10am is just about do-able, providing you’ve planned it and gone through the evacuation procedure…that’s if your baby doesn’t decide to poo just as you close the front door! Back we go…late again!

So if you’ve managed to get you and your baby showered/bathed, dressed, hair and makeup done, housework done, dinner prepared, bed made and out of the door by 10am…then embrace that strut because you feel good. You feel so good that you want people to look over and see that pink sparkly Cape you’re wearing glistening in the sun and the gold ‘S’ on your chest reflecting on your Primark sunnies whilst you flick your hair and your lushious curls fall effortlessly back into place …you know why? Because you are fucking Super Mum and everyone should know about it! 

Stay Super!

Love Yawning Mummy ❤️

Hair and Makeup?

Pre baby, my beauty regime wasn’t amazing but it was in existence. It had its place in my daily life, (or more realistically every few days)! I would have my eyebrows regularly tourchered, otherwise known as threaded, have the occasional mani and pedi, shave my legs, exfoliate and even moisturise. My makeup would be to hand and I was a dab hand with a liquid eyeliner! I used to think I wasn’t doing it to the highest of standards, firstly because I couldn’t afford to and secondly because I didn’t have time…

Pft!

Those were the days when time was at its greatest, I had bags of the stuff! Even when I thought I didn’t have time, I’ld ‘make‘ time…making time these days is trying not to piss yourself after 14 hours of holding in that wee you was meant to of had at 7am but just didn’t get time to go, and finally at 9pm when you’ve eventually got your restless toddler off to sleep (horray!), you remembered just how busting you were and you make time to nip to the loo! 

Daily routine now is managing to roll your tired arse out of your warm bed whilst entertaining a toddler, attempting to brush your teeth with your eyes closed, making it down the mountain of stairs without falling (oh to live in a bungalow!) and putting breakfast on the table for your hungry offspring! Anything above and beyond that, is a bonus!  The thought of hair and make up is now way way WAYYYY down the list! 

My hair is usually up, and by that I mean tied up with a hairband that clearly needs replacing as its starting to pull at your locks, and usually looks like you’ve let your child play hairdressers for the afternoon. My make up, if I can be bothered, is a quick brush of powder and some blusher over my cheek bones to make me look alive (thinking about it, I’m not sure it makes any difference, but at least I try!). You know how rarely your hair and makeup is done when on your yearly night out, your darling husband tells you that you look great and your ‘face looks good’…I’ll take that! I usually look like a short raven attacked scare crow! And I go out that way, it keeps the flurry of men I usually get flocking me as I leave the house at bay (Phahahahahaha!). 

On the VERY rare occasion when your baby sleeps extra long and in between checking them (because they never sleep this long!) you manage to have a shower, wash your hair, dry your hair, style your hair and put some makeup on…feel free to high five yourself, you are fucking amazing! A total achiever! You’re ‘big time’ in the mummy world!

Hair and makeup. Is it important? Is it the end of the world if you don’t manage to put your face on or straighten your hair? Personally, no, it isn’t. What is important is making time for my little one. The time I could have ‘made‘ to do those things, gives me more time to prepare painting activities or run around the garden like a loon because he thinks it’s funny. Even having a full 20 minute conversation with Mr Tumble on the play phone that beeps and talks randomly. Because that’s what I do, that’s what I enjoy and that’s what builds memories. 10 years down the line, I won’t remember that time I took out of my busy day to make myself up (there’s plenty of time for that when my little gets big), but I will remember that time I took to play hide and seek and my toddler giving me a kiss and saying I love you when I found him because I was there and we were making precious memories together. It’s all about prioritising, and my priority will always be my children.

If you get time to do both then you’re raising an angel but if, like me, you have a little monster running you ragid then there is no time to ‘make’ time, you borrow time for yourself until the day comes, (and it will), that your teeny weeny darling baby no longer wants you to play peek-a-boo or help them to the toilet, until that time, enjoy what you’re given, you’ll have the time to do the unimportant things later. 

Love Yawning Mummy ❤️

Holidaying…

You’ve had a tough year…your baby has gone through, or is going through all the fun things. Teething, growth spurts, developmental leaps and to be frank, you’ve totally had it! It’s time for a holiday, a break, time to get away and relax…

If you’re taking your children, it will be none of the above!

1. The destination – where to go! What a tough one! I looked at every destination going, even Thailand (I hadn’t been away with a baby before, so yes you’re right, I was mad!), but we finally settled for Turkey. We’d been there before, the flight time wasn’t too bad and we knew roughly what to expect. We finally settled (and I might add, saved bloody hard) for a beautiful 5* resort right on Lara beach, Antalaya – everywhere we looked were fab reviews and it totally catered for children, whatever that meant. Click click…booked! Research is key here, you don’t want to end up in one of those tiny, smelly little appartments you accidently booked when you went away on a cheap girls holiday to the Costa brava on an ‘accommodation on arrival’ package back in the ‘good old days’! That would not be fun 10 years later with a little one in tow!
2. When to go – there are a couple of factors here. Firstly, the weather. You don’t want to go somewhere where the heat is so unbearable you keep your child indoors and resort to wearing trousers the entire time to prevent the inevitable chafing that you’ld endure if you didn’t! Equally, you don’t want to go anywhere too cold because it’s time to get some vitamin D and put your swimwear on to strut around showing off your non exfoliated, milk bottle white, saggy bellied mummy body to all the hotties! You need somewhere just in the middle that’s good for all of you. Secondly, there’s the price. If your child is under the age of 2, then you do not need to pay for a seat on the plane, but they do have to sit on your lap (or spend the entire time trying to get off of your lap). You also don’t have to worry about taking them out of school yet so the options are yours. However, if you do have a child over the age of 2, things start to get costly! You have to take them in school holidays (kerching!) and you have to pay for a seat on the plane (double kerching as they are the same price as adults!). Your options are a little more difficult!
3. The price…oh the price! Long gone are the cheap breaks you could just, off a whim, book up because  you could and you had the money…now you have children, you can’t, and you have no money! And if you have school age children, holidaying in the summer time is borderline day light Robery, no infact, it is day light robbery!

Once you’ve figered all this out and you’ve gotten over the trauma of just how much it’s going to set you back (Christmas is cancelled and I’m already exhausted and quite frankly bored of looking at different swimming pools in each hotel trying to compare and take a call on which one is likely to have the least amount of urine in it!), then it’s time to book your holiday! 

The journey. I call it a journey because being a parent that has been on holiday with a toddler, it’s never any thing other than a journey that it takes you on…

We were due to fly out from London Stansted on 6th June 2015 at 9am, trying to make things run a little smoother, we decided to book the Premier Inn the night before to ensure we made it to the airport on time (6.30am) and unscathed. I had the day off of work, hubby was arriving home from work at 1pm and we were going to head straight there for a nice pre holiday night. We’d have some early dinner when we arrived, settle the little one and order a bottle of wine to the room to get us in the holiday mood. Well that didn’t go to plan! 

The day had come, Archie was in nursery, hubby has gone to work and I had the house to myself! As tempting as it was to sit down with a cuppa, or get some shut eye, I only had until 1pm. It was time to get my housework done. I done a full clean, changed the beds and cleaned the carpets, nice clean home to come back to in 2 weeks time. I packed the car with our suitcases, all 5 of them, and set off to the nail shop for some last minute pampering. A holiday just doesn’t feel the same without leaving with a fresh coat of the good stuff at a salon! Nails were dry and finally, it was time…

Off I went to the station to pick my husband up, occasionally glimpsing at my beautiful newly painted nails wondering why something so simple can make you feel so good! The train pulls in and a smiley husband opens the car door, we kiss (an ‘I still love you’ husband and wife with a kid kiss not a touge tangling ‘I’m gonna eat you’ teenage kiss…very different!). Last stop is nursery to collect our bubs and it’s to the airport we go!…

Chatting away, the lights turned red, and we sat in traffic up the hill, not even this could change our moods, until the lights changed at least! I actually had no power under my feet, Yep, absolutely no power at all! Fuck, fuck, fuckerdy, fuckeroo, fuck fuck! How? Why? Now? Really!!!!

Luckily, nursery wasn’t far and we managed, not sure how, to make it to their car park, just! The AA man arrived to give us the delightful news that our clutch had gone. Wonderful! After spending more money on this holiday then ive spent since my wild teenage days when I used to rack up a few hundred quid on new clothes for a night out, we now had an expense of £360 to boot! Not only did we have that expense, we had NO CAR! Our local garage kindly agreed to keep it for the 2 weeks we were away and get the job done but that really didn’t help us in our hour of need…we had already paid for airport parking which was non refundable, of course! We had a hotel room waiting for us and a flight to catch in a number of hours! 

Luckily my in laws were around and we finally made it to the hotel…*sigh!

After the usual night of non existent sleep, not only due to the saga of getting here, but the fact that we have a non sleeper with a capital ‘S’, it was time…time to face the airport and all that goes with it! 

Long story short, we had to re pack at the check in desk after being greeted by the worlds biggest jobsworth who quibbled over us being 3lb over, dispite seeing a clearly unsettled toddler in the buggy, not to mention the flared nostriled mother standing in front of her, Archies favourite teddy was left behind along with our printed itinery, accommadation slip and transfer form and after collecting our online boots order once we had gone through and discovering what seemed like a good idea at the time to save on room in the cases, turned out to be a bit of a pain in the arse when the cashier hands you 2 large boxes of items…oh shit! 

The plane itself was fine. My toddler loved it and the 4 hours I dreaded were actually not too bad…I did have lots of books, a colouring bag full of paper, pens, stickers etc, a food bag, lots of chocolate and the iPad for when all else failed…I was prepared for a full on floor slapping, foot stamping, ear drum bursting tantrum!

And then there’s the holiday itself. 

Whoever tells you p20 is ok for children (the provider tells you it’s safe from 6 months) is lying or has a child that’s ridiculously unsensitive. We ended up at a local pharmacy on day 2 after a puffy eyed toddler episode, turns out he’s allergic to the stuff we spent £80 on just 2 days ago…

The days when you used to grab a towel and pitch up on the hot sand covered in oil with an alcoholic beverage and cigarette are gone! Hot sand is a no go, sun beds and lots of shaded areas are our new best friends, no point in oiling up when you won’t be in the sun long enough for it to be worth while, your drink only ends up going hot so you give up after the fifth attempt, and I stopped smoking the day I found out I was pregnant. 

Then there’s the food that you have no idea what half of it is, the dodgey half broken rollercoster footpaths that make you wonder why you bought a buggy in the first place, the constant change of normal nappies to swim nappies, the let’s apply cream to a toddler that is point blank refusing to stay still event, the lack of routine resulting in lots more fun for the little one but lots more nightly wake ups for us, the funny beds that will never (5* or not) live up to your own bed, the constant battle with making sure they take enough fluids throughout the day, the fear for your lives if you attempt to get a taxi or use public transport due to absolute head cases making rules that there are no rules when it comes to driving and then the last few days thinking about the bullshit packing your going to have to do in a few days, locating your passports that you put somewhere safe (but they are so safe you’ve forgotten where), wondering if you’ll get a jobsworth check in attendant this side with a complete language barrier to add to the mix and how you can’t be lucky enough to have a toddler that behaves on both the out and return flight…

A holiday? A break? A relaxing time away? Erm…No…

…but I must say it was the best holiday I’ve ever been on. My husband and I got to be kids again, we got to watch our little boy enjoy the water and have fun, got to join in the fun, we saw him make new friends no matter what language they spoke, we made family memories that will last forever and best of all, the 3 of us got to be together for a whole 2 weeks in the sun soaking up some much needed   vitimin D, practicing our arguments via whisperer and just mouthing the occasional swear word to eachother. 

Things change when you have children, your holidays won’t be as they used to, but your heart is fuller than ever, your life becomes much more fun and you make memories more fairytale like than any book you’ve ever read or dream you’ve ever dreamt!

Top tips: Try out your sun cream before you leave, get recommendations on destinations from those with children, don’t bother taking anymore than one pair of heels (if that), have a plan B to get to and from the airport just incase things don’t go to plan and take fun things and treats for the plane…chocolate buttons and crisps come in handy when the tantrum gets out of hand and they look like they’re about to explode! 

Enjoy watching and joining in on the fun whilst they are small…there will come a time when they no longer what to holiday with you so make some memories to look back on when that time comes.

Enjoy your holiday and good luck! 💛

Love Yawning Mummy ❤️

Parent Milestones…We have them too!

So you have your baby and ‘percentile’ and ‘milestones’ are two of many words that float around!

Is your child reaching their milestones? What milestone has your child hit this month? Is your child not sleeping because their about to reach a milestone? Your baby will do this, your baby will do that! Your baby will actually do what they want to when they are bloody well good and ready to do it!

Milestones are amazing moments but never forget that your child is an individual. A person that is like no other…your child is unique. Being so, each child is very different and they achieve things at their own pace. One may walk at 9 months, one may not until 18 months, it’s difficult to compare, so we shouldn’t. The next time someone compares their child to yours and comes to the conclusion that their child is better than yours because they are 18 months and potty trained and your child is 3 and hasn’t quite grasped it yet, remind them that they are welcome to fuck right off!

All these baby milestones and no parent recognition, we have milestones too right? Here’s a few to start you off…

Milestone one: Becoming a parent! Congratulations! This is a huge one, life as you knew it is no more! Welcome to parenthood!

Milestone two: Panic stricken mode! Yep, another one to tick off of your parent milestone check list…Google is your best friend and your worst enemy and all it does is make you freak out more! Everything sends you into this mode…Totally normal!

Milestone three: Mastering the feed! Whether you’re breast or bottle feeding, it all takes time to master. Breast feeding is new to you and your body and although natural, it doesn’t come easily to all mums, it can be really stressful! Once you’ve got the hang of it and worked out the best way for you and your baby, you’ve got it. Or if you’re like me and just couldn’t get your head around the formula scoops thing once my little one had gone onto bottles, meaning it took at least 2 attempts to make up a bottle when you lost count at scoop number 3…I bought ready made formula for a week or two whilst I practiced. Give yourself time, you’ll get there and it’s another milestone to tick off once you’ve got it under control!

Milestone four: Accept the emotions you are about to endure. Yes, you are likely to cry…AT EVERYTHING! It could be just looking at your baby that sets you off, a simple advert with a baby in it, a simple advert with chocolate in it, a text from someone (might even be domino’s pizza) or the fact that you haven’t had a shower for 24 hours and you really need one! There is likely to be no reason at all and it’s likely to just happen unexpectedly…accept it, embrace it and let it out! Tick!

Milestone five: Learn the correct words to every nursery rhyme…and when you run out of those, turn your favourite Queen song into a sweet little lullaby! Well done you!!!

Milestone six: Enjoying you’re baby’s milestones. Yep, that’s a parent milestone too. All those sleepless nights and difficult days and then your baby cracks his first smile…no it wasn’t wind…there you have it, you experienced it first, you deserve that feeling you get, you’ve worked incredibly hard for it.

Milestone seven: Mastering the shower alone. Now this one may take a few attempts, so give yourself some time to figure it all out. Managing to have a shower whilst your baby takes a nap and you’re home alone with no one to watch them. waiting for your baby to go to sleep, putting them in the doorway of your bathroom and showering with one eye on them at all times hoping they don’t wake up mid clean…and if you manage to wash your hair too and not have to jump out with soap spuds everywhere and a head half filled with shampoo then you done fab…go get some chocolate to celebrate!

Milestone eight: Coming to terms with the fact that you’ll probably end up wearing your maternity clothes for much longer post birth, if not because your body hasn’t sprung back into shape like you’d expected (reality is it probably won’t right away, sorry!), but because they are totally bloody comfortable and that’s ok!

Milestone nine: Figure out a way to stop your baby from crying. As I said at the beginning, all babies are different and what works for one may not work for another. Once you’ve figured it out, you’ve cracked it! Keep going though, there may be a few things you discover! My little boys place was in front of the mirror looking at himself and in daddy’s arms watching the football.

Milestone ten: Accepting that every day is not wonderful but finding something wonderful in every day. Being a parent is draining, it’s stressful and not every day is like you see it in the adverts, you have days where you don’t even change out of your PJ’s, you get wee’d on, sick’ed on or worse poo’ed on. You might even be so exhausted and overwhelmed you forget to eat but looking for that wonderful thing in every day is so easy to find, they are usually staring right back at you! ❤️

Psssst: You’re doing great! 💛
Love Yawning Mummy ❤️

SHHH…You’ll wake the baby!

Having a child that literally never sleeps, and when he does, it’s short and sweet, I do everything in my power to keep him undisturbed for that short period of time so he gets some rest and I actually get to have a wee and If im lucky shove something edible in my mouth!

Not unreasonable right?

Wrong!

Husbands…husbands are amazing! They are your friends. Your lover. Your ‘turn to’ person. The love of your life, but not forgetting that they are also the reason for that massive pain in your backside most of the time!

Kids are hard work, kids and husbands are double trouble!

Bath time has been done (and I might as well have got in I’m so wet), his PJ’s are on, milk is being drunk (and poured on the floor) and a book is being read for the hundredth time. I watch the hand of the clock creep up to 7pm and it’s bedtime. The house is covered in toys, food, books, paper…ooo what is that!…along with crayon ‘art’ on my walls and sofas…but it’s ok, bedtime has arrived!

For those who have sleeping children, this would be you…for those that don’t:

Me: “Its bedtime now darling, can you help mummy tidy your toys.”

Archie: “No!”

Me: “Yes, it’s time for bed. We’ve finished playing for the day, it’s time to tidy away, and we can play again tomorrow.”

Archie: “No!”

You get my drift…

They end up half tided (by me) and half shoved in whatever hole or corner my son has found. This pile usually also contains a half-eaten biscuit and a cup of milk that I’ll find later that night after its grown a gross skin film and started to smell like a bad nappy!

The ‘swoop’ has happened and it’s time to say goodnight to everyone, this includes the garden, the pussy cats, the birdies, the cars, the digger, the wooden blocks, the play room, peppa pig, Mickey Mouse and the weird scary looking plastic Mr Tumble figure that creeps me out everytime I look at it! Goodnight everyone…

And we’re off, counting the steps as we make our way to bed.

“I want water”, “Milk?”, “Change my bum”, “Biscuit”, “Play in the garden on my bike mummy?”

The excuses as to why he shouldn’t sleep get reeled off with the occasional pause when he hears an emergeny service vehicle to scream “Ne Nor!!”

He is NOT going to stay in his bed…we’ve tried! We’ve had sticker charts, we’ve tried sitting with him, the gradual retreat as you slowly make your way further towards the door each night, we’ve let him cry for short periods to see if it’s just a winge, we’ve given him teddies, we’ve talked to him, we’ve used the gro clock, we’ve sung, we’ve moved bedtime to earlier, we’ve moved bedtime to later, we’ve read every ‘miracle’ or ‘how to help your baby self settle ‘ book on the market. Our baby WILL NOT have it…we’ve sat for hours, 4-5 sometimes, and he will continue to talk, ask questions, get out of bed as soon as you attempt to leave, get out of bed even if you’re not attempting to leave…so laying on my chest having cuddles in mummy’s bed is just easier…yes I said it! It’s easier! I’m talking the easy route, but let’s face it, we just need some shut eye and the other routes we’ve persevered with do not work on our child right now! We’ll try again tomorrow!

An hour later…despite laying on my chest and taking comfort from my nose by repeating flicking it, grabbing it, pulling it and occasionally trying to bite it, he is still awake. Eventually all goes calm, my nose stops being attacked, he isn’t talking and the dummy falls out…HE’S ASLEEP!

I wait 5 minutes and gently transfer him into his bed, going all kung fu ninja trying to tip toe out of the room avoiding the creaky floorboards (which I must mark with an x on the floor so I don’t forget where not to step!).

CRASH! BANG! COUGH! The husband is home!

As I stand on the landing I whisper down,

“SHHH…you’ll wake the baby!”

A ‘sorry’ echo’s back up at me.

SMASH! BANG! BOOM! – REALLY!!! JUST REALLY!

I creep down the stairs to tell him to shut the fuck up trying to explain that I’ve had a full on day and it’s taken the last little bit of energy I had left to get our darling son to sleep, ensuring he knows I’d be mad if he woke him! Again he apologises.

“Cup of tea” he says…music to my ears…

BASH! CRASH! CLANG…

How can one person make so much noise, he’s only making a cup of bloody tea!

“Will you be quiet! You’ve been in five minutes!”

My cup of tea is served and it’s time to start thinking about dinner. Hubby goes off to sort his stuff for work tomorrow and I hear the creak of the bottom step…he’s going upstairs!!

CREAK……..BANG BANG BANG.

He can’t have just walked up the stairs alone? Definitely hid that herd of elephants he had behind him well!

On goes the pull light in the bathroom, the noisy electric toothbrush starts buzzing, the head shaver does its thing, the shower starts up and oh…he flushes the chain… What part of ‘shhh you’ll wake the baby’ didn’t he get? Couldn’t he have just had a wee in the dark?, brushed his teeth with the normal toothbrush that I put in there purposely to avoid this situation at night?, shave his head in the morning or at the weekend? And unless it was absolutely necessary, leave the chain until the morning? Yes he fucking could have!

“WAAAAAAAAAAA! Mummy, mum mum, maaaaaaa!!!!!!!”

And he’s up!

Course he’s up, I might as well have taken him clubbing the amount of noise going on in my house, and I’ve not even started dinner yet!

There are 3 types of being up, we usually go through all of them nightly at our house…

• 1: Drowsy – 5-10 minute settle at most and it’s back in the land of nod.
• 2: Eyes open and screaming or asking for things – 20-30 minutes settle time.
• 3: Eyes open, fully awake and NEVER intending on going back to sleep, or if he does it’ll be right at the time you need to get up. This usually involves everything he can find being thrown down the stairs and/or sitting on mummy or daddy’s back wanting to play horsey! – 3-6 hour settle time.

Guys, when your other half says ‘SHHH, you’ll wake the baby’, PLEASE BE QUIET. I’m sure 99% 89% of the time it’s unintentional and you just can’t help your massive manly self smashing around the place, but if you really can’t be quiet then piss off out! And don’t think about talking yourself down the pub, you’ll only make it worse – if you go out, may I suggest the 24 hour Tesco to get the weeks shopping in…don’t forget chocolate!

You never know when we’re going to hand it over to you and come home after a few glasses of wine singing ‘if you’re happy and you know it’ at the top of our voices…You have been warned…

Love Yawning Mummy ❤️

Sleeping like a toddler!

There comes a point in parenthood when you sit (yes SIT) and stare at your freezing cold cup of tea and whilst looking at the crumbs, toys and occasional chocolate hand smudge spread all over your cream sofa (note to self: cream was a bad choice!) when you wonder where on earth your tiny, sleepy, not yet mobile baby went and who opened the door to that little devil that you’ve just spent nearly 2 hours putting down for a nap !

After 2 years of zero sleep, you begin to wonder if you will ever get a night of shut eye again…will your baby EVER sleep through the night? Have you just got ‘one of those kids!’ Or was you really really bad in your past life that the sleep deprivation tourture program is your destiny?

It was 20th August and I was 4 days overdue…midnight came and I woke from my uncomfortable sleep like I’ld been hit with a lead balloon…
Had I wet myself? Was I dreaming? Is hubby trying to wind me up?
After pulling myself together and blinking repeadly to try to send the message to my eyes that they needed to open now, it became apparant that the time had come, my waters had broken!
Panic began!
I pushed my husband so hard he nearly toppled out of bed whilst trying to control my breathing as a panic attack set in…I was having a baby…shit…I WAS HAVING A BABY!
I was actually starting to get used to the fact that this was never ending, I could do what I liked whilst on maternity leave, basically eat what I liked and despite the horrendous back pain, I’d totally got the fat pregnant woman waddle to a T! And then BAM…the moment comes and I know it’s not going to be long before I’m going to be pushing, begging for drugs (despite being adamant I was going to do this hippy stylie in a bath with nothing but a deep breath) and swearing a lot!
Hubby finally pulled himself up from his Superman grip to the side of the bed and there I was, hot, sweaty and soaking wet, an image that should be to a mans delight…I can assure you it was not delight I saw in his face…although there was a slight grin when he too realised it was time to actually have a baby!
Phone! Mum!!!!! Midwife!
Here we go!

After getting myself dressed, ensuring my lady parts were trimmed and il’d had a wash, I watched my wide eyed husband drag the hundred hospital bags I’d packed into the car.
Babies bag: contained 3 million outfits that had been washed, ironed and folded around the same number of times! Not forgetting the numerous hats, mittens and every other item on the unnecessary hospital bag check list.
My bag: not so many outfit changes here, a mere 12…just incase! Not forgetting the nightwear, dressing gown for when you’re glamorously strutting down the hospital halls looking fit after just delivering your baby in 15 minutes (or not!), makeup to stop you looking like have just been bought bag from the dead and the ever attractive Bridget pants to make room for the nappies you’ll be wearing yourself! And an outfit and prezzie for hubby tucked away in there somewhere.
Then there was the food bag: Yes a whole bag! For those that know me, this bag was important! We had sweets, snack bars, crisps, fruit, dried fruit, chocolate, more sweets, more chocolate and lots of electrolytes (sports drinks to you and I)!
Oh and last but not least, the pillow!: My pillow from home with my freshly washed spotty pillowcase (Yep, this was on the checklist too!)…
All set and too the hospital we go.

Long story short but around 37 hours later, lots of trips back and forth from home, there I was, on my knees on a hospital bed hooked up to an IV with a continuous drip flowing into my already water filled body due to an infection, a bladder the size of a small whale as I was unable to urinate for at least 37 hours, both hands black and blue from failed attempts to get a cannula in, a sticky room with a window that opened no more than half an inch, condensation dripping from the ceiling, a calm but very sleepy husband and a mother sitting in the corner reading her magazine awaiting the arrival of grandchild number 5!
Active labour for 37 hours is not fun, but what’s even worse is having a drip, a baby that’s back to back causing continus contractions with not a second breather in between, fully engaged and in the birth canal causing you push (against a closed cervix), a bladder so large your not sure which is the child, a rapidly swelling body that just keeps getting bigger, gas and air that was totally useless and unable to have any further medication or epidural due to the infection putting me at high risk of meningitis and a number of junior midwifes clocking in and out of their shift ensuring that they used me as a puppet as often as possible.
Dignity? What dignity…I was almost tempted to ask if any more of their colleagues fancied coming to ‘have a go’ before they might want to decide to help get this baby out of me instead of having a feel and writing essay after essay of total rubbish.
And there I was, hanging off of my husbands shoulders begging for someone to help me but still only 6cm dilated with no signs of any progress…
Watching the clock, swearing, apologising for swearing, apologising to my mum for regularly, unintentionally, putting a bare arse in her face, and repeadly telling my husband I couldn’t do it anymore whilst bearing all my weight on his shoulders…38 hours, 38 hours 1 minute, 38 hours 6 minutes…
The door opened…FINALLY an experienced midwife, not only experience but she looked tough, ‘I’ll take no shit’ tough…
I begged her to help me as she came closer wondering whether she would tell me to shut up and get on with it or finally find a miracle way to get me out of this atrocious pain that I’d endured for long enough.
One look at me and the tough bitch was on my side!

“Why is she still here!”

she wailed…

“take her straight to theatre, emergency C section now!”.

Thank the Lord, an answer to my prayers…
I insisted she came with me so they didn’t bring me back! She obliged, the tough bitch liked me!
Being wheeled down to theatre is all a blur, I remember the anethatist begging me stay still so he could put the needle in which is near on impossible with continuous contractions, my husband fully dressed in the blue gear sitting behind me stoking my head (once the needle has gone in and I was flat on my back), my mum standing outside the heavy wooden double doors that led onto the theatre room talking to every person that came in or out asking what was going on, and most of all I remember the fucking great smile that spread across my face as that magic stuff thats making its way through my body totally punches the pain right in the fanny bone! I couldn’t feel the pain!
Oh shit…I was having a C section…my WORST nightmare and not planned for in the slightest! I so didn’t want a C section!
I was awake the whole time, patiently waiting for them to present my darling baby. I felt a lot happening, like 10 people were washing up in my tummy. What were they doing!
And there it was…

“Waaaaaaa!”

…oh my god, we had a baby!
Our teeny tiny 6lb 11oz wrinkly little baby was presented to us born at 1.18pm, it was a BOY!
I remember the anethatist telling me at this point that he was very well endoud, a proud daddy sitting beside me for more than one reason! They handed our precious little bundle over for our first cuddles, and to say it was magical is an understatement! In that moment, it didn’t matter that I’d been in active labour for 38 hours, it didn’t matter that I’d just been cut open or that it hadn’t gone to plan, nothing mattered in fact, my baby was here, breathing and healthy!
I became a mummy!
4 days later, and what an experience those 4 says were) and we’d finally named him and were told we could go home!
Archie was coming out, it was time to start our journey alone…

Night one! Fucking disaster! Our baby had slept and ate lovely on our hospital vacation, well not tonight he didn’t, he screamed, and screamed and screamed!!!!!!!! WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HIM!
He hadn’t done this before! Why tonight? I fed him, I burped him, I cuddled him, I walked up and down with him, I sung to him, I played lullabies to him, I done lunges with him, I even resorted to putting CBeebies on at 3am to try to settle him…nothing worked!
I spent most of the night on the phone to the midwifes at the hospital explaining that he hadn’t done this before, to be told that he was just crying and that’s what babies do. Sigh…here we go!

A few weeks in and I was getting used to this mummy thing, I had alarms for feeds set and sorting a little routine out so I didn’t feel so totally screwed up. Although the ridiculously sore nipples (no-ones tells you just how sore they can get!) and recovering from the C section made it difficult to manoeuvre, feed or even lift him due to damage I’d done to my arm and shoulder in labour (my poor husbands neck and shoulders!).
I totally expected zero sleep and that’s totally what we got.

A few months in and people would say. When he starts eating he’ll sleep…
The weaning process started a little later and I was excited, not only for him and our little journey of introducing food, but I was excited about the talk of sleep…
He was eventually on 3 meals a day and still an hour or two in the night was all we were getting…

People would say, when he’s crawling he’ll sleep…
10 months, the crawling began and he was eating 3 meals a day.
Yep, you guessed it, an hour or two at the most and the crying, screaming and general unsettledness would begin.

People would say, when he starts nursery, he’ll sleep.
11 months, nursery began…
An hour or two at the most!

People would say, when he’s walking, he’ll sleep…
1 year 1 month, the walking began and he was eating 3 meals a day plus snacks.
Need I tell you?

People would say, he’ll sleep when he’s ready!

1 year 11 months…
…we’re still only getting one to two hours, and I can count on one wrinkled, sleep deprived hand how may times he has slept through the night (by this I mean more than 5 hours!).

Where did the nice 2 hour day naps slip off to! No one told me they’d come crashing down to a short nap a day…freezing cold tea and coffee then become the norm…you get used to it after a while, chocolate usually makes up for it!
Oh chocolate…stay there…

…I’m back…*licks lips*

At this point people usually start asking you when you’ll be having another. Another sounds great. Answer: When I get enough time to have regular enough sex to conceive one? Maybe?

There was a time when shaving my legs and tiding my ‘area’ was a daily occurrence, these days it’s about wearing the right clothes to stop the strong prickly needles of regrowth on your moisture deprived legs from poking through and attacking your other leg…that hurts, be warned, they break through tights…I learned the hard way.
In the event you get time to have a long enough shower to prune it’s like a weekend away in a luxury 5* hotel…oh the little things! And it’s just taking the piss if you get to paint your nails and they dry in time. My usual nail varnish attempts end up like my little boys paintings…I call them my bright nails. Or should that be shite nails?
Not to mention the never ending battle with housework, daily washing machine loads and working in the city 3 days a week…just give up!

There have been nights where I felt like punching my darling husband in the face as he lays there peacefully and SLEEPS, or plotting how I can push him out of bed with maximum impact to the floor without waking the baby. There have been times where at 2, 3, 4am, I wondered if my local pub was having a lock in and if so if they’d let me in (or more realistically, whether I could get away with sneeking out to the car to get a few hours peace from a crying baby and a snoring husband before someone spots me and reports me or being a nutcase!), there have been times when I’ve wondered what I’m doing wrong, am I doing enough? Could I do more?. I have tried everything, every trick in the book and every tip every refreshed mother with a sleeping baby (I dislike you a lot!) has given me…but to no avail.

But I have come to realise that actually, when my baby asks for a cuddle or crys at 2am, it’s my duty as a mother to oblige. It also means I get to spend more time with my baby who seems to be speedly growing up way too fast and watch him night after night and I feel honoured to have watched him become the intelligent, happy, bubbly, funny and ever so cheeky little man he is today. Do you know what…he will sleep…eventually. But for the time being whilst my baby still wants a cuddle and I don’t have to bribe him to get one, I’m just gonna take it and I’m gonna enjoy every little squeeze because before we know it, it’ll be time to let them go and then I would have missed those cuddles I didn’t take the opportunity to have.

To all you mummys and daddy’s going though the same, we will get some sleep one day! Smile thorough the sleep deprivation, deal with one day at a time and enjoy your baby while they are still a baby, because tomorrow they will be that little bit bigger.

Tonight as I write I lay stairing at my wonderful husband who despite my resent towards his ability to get some Z’s sometimes, I love right down to my bones so much it hurts, and my beautiful little toddler who without him, I wouldn’t know the true meaning of a mothers love, love like no other, love that makes you so happy and fills your body with a million little love bubbles you can actually feel it crushing every part of you, love that quite frankly is impossible to explain! ❤️

Stay sleepy 💛

Love Yawning Mummy 💛