Happy Birthday to my little big man

My, how you’ve grown my little big man. You’re four years old today and absolutely, 100% the love of our lives. Don’t get me wrong kiddo, you can be a stubborn little handful (just like your Dad), but you are our most favourite child, our best friend, our reason for everything we do and we quite like having you around the place, despite all the mess, fuss and snotty cuddles.

Your birthday is always a time of reflection for me, about the year which has passed and all the years before then. I can’t help but think about our difficult start, but as the years go by that is vastly overshadowed by all our love, adventures and mischief we get up to as a family.

4th birthday

I still find it hard to believe we made such a beautiful creature. It was love at first sight. You were all dimples, squeezy cheeks and long eye lashes. You were and still are a pretty peaceful chap.

4th birthday

This was you on your first birthday. See, you’re still ALL dimples and cheeks. You loved opening your presents and we loved helping you. You were and still are a really happy little chappie. We still couldn’t believe our luck, we are so lucky to have you in our lives.

4th birthday

This is you on your second birthday. You’re all rosy cheeked because we’d been to a soft play centre for the afternoon, then stopped at TGI Fridays on the way home. You weren’t that keen on eating, but you enjoyed doing lots of drawing and stealing our chips.

4th birthday

Here you are, all dressed up for your third birthday party. You’re so grown up looking here, we’d had a really tough year as a family but your birthday was a real highlight for us. You even had a huge Thomas the Tank Engine cake.

4th birthday

This is you just a couple of days shy of your 4th birthday. We threw a train party at a local miniature railway. I think you had an amazing time, all your friends liked it too. What a year it’s been, you’ve started nursery at the big school and you’re growing into a proper boy and you’re no longer our woddling toddler.

Little Bee, my little big man, Happy Birthday, you are the love of our lives, the apple of our eye and you’ll always be our best friend. We love you, always have, always will xxx

Growing up: A childhood full of cuddles

The small boy started big school this week. We were both brave and have managed the transition quite well; but it’s made me all reflective about my little baby growing up.

He’ll be four in November and those years have gone like a blur. I know it’s a cliché, but sometimes, most of the the time, clichés are so very true. The memory of holding him when he was born; doing the skin to skin thing and I was just shocked, amazed, full of love and terrified that I had a real life baby in my arms. I knew at that moment, I would fight anyone to the death if they so much as gave him a funny look.

I remember holding him during our first days at home, when I was alone and wondering who on earth had decided I was grown up enough to care for this beautiful, helpless, vulnerable creature. He smelt great too, newborns are almost edible, almost.

Growing up: A childhood full of cuddles

I remember his Christening and watching his grumpy face as he was passed around family and friends when he just wanted to cuddle his mummy or daddy. I remember holding my breath in case he cried when they baptised him. He didn’t.

I remember taking him to nursery for the first time, just short of his first birthday and breaking my heart in the car on the way to work. I held him extra close for a long time that night and for several nights after.

Growing up: A childhood full of cuddles

In the nights before I went into hospital for my operations, I stuck a brave face on for him and squeezing him tight before bed; knowing that I wouldn’t see him for a few days. Those nights in hospital when I hadn’t been able to kiss him goodnight, they seemed horribly long and lonely without him.

He’s not overly cuddly, but when he’s poorly he really craves cuddles and reassurance. I make the most of his under the weather snuggles, when he’s burning up and he just wants his mummy. I know he’s coming down with something when he just climbs on my knee and nestles in.

His first day of school, he was all manly and grown up. No proper cuddles for mummy, just a cursory hug of my knee and he was off. He’s growing up fast and I hope we’ve done enough to prepare him for big school.

Growing up: A childhood full of cuddles

He’s a tough little monkey; independent, funny, chatty, charming, with eyes that’ll get him both in trouble and out of trouble in equal measure. I know his affectionate cuddles will become less frequent now he’s growing up and becoming a man of the world; so when they do happen I’m going to make the most of them, and hold him extra tight for a little bit longer.

He’ll always be my baby, no matter how grown up he is. I hope he’ll still occasionally give me a special mummy cuddle. I hope one day he’ll feel his heart fill with love for the tiny newborn in his arms, and understand for himself what unconditional love really is.

A special snuggle & the same old (adorable) routine

I’m sat on the sofa, or propped up in bed. Invariably I’ve got my iPad and I’m working. The small boy, wanders in, spies me and goes in for a snuggle. We sit in companionable silence for a while, me enjoying his closeness, for it is a rare thing. Then the questioning starts.

Me: Do you want a drink?
Him: No

Me: Do you want a snack?
Him: No

Me: Do you need a wee?
Him: No

Me: Do you need a poo?
Him: No

Me: Do you need a tickle?
Him: No (he squirms)

Me: Do you need me to blow a raspberry on your belly?
Him: No (he squirms some more)

Me: Do you need me to eat your feet?
Him: No (he kicks his legs so I can’t grab his feet and he giggles)

Me: Do you need me to bite your bum?
Him: No. Not my bum!

Me: Do you need me to squeeze your squeezy cheeks?
Him: Noooooooo Mummy!

Me: Are you sure you don’t need a tickle?
Him: No. I do NOT.

Me: Do you need me to kiss you all over your face?
Him: No Mummy no!

What he really means is yes Mummy yes. So I do all of the above and we dissolve into a giggling, tickling, squealing mess. Then we sit, snuggled just a little bit closer and carry on sitting in our own special companionable silence.

I love these moments.

Special snuggle

Courage, dear heart

“But no one except Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, “Courage, dear heart,” and the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan’s, and with the voice a delicious smell breathed in her face.”

– C.S. Lewis The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

I’m struggling a bit right now. My life is nothing but a messy sea of madness. Too many different paths ahead of me. I don’t know which one to take, which one is the best, for me, for my family, for my future. I’m confused.

Some paths will lead to happiness; some will be incredibly hard to traverse, but ultimately amazing; some mean playing the waiting game and I’m fed up of waiting; some paths have hidden dangers, vipers waiting under rocks. No path is clear to me, but I know I can’t stand here forever, but I don’t know where to go, so I’m stuck, rooted to the spot like I have been for years.

Last year I found the courage to change my career and go it alone. I found the courage to get the better of some personal demons and I found an inner strength which is almost beyond my comprehension.

I’ve got good people behind me, friends who know me almost better than myself. Friends who I can speak to about absolutely anything without fear of judgment or condemnation, only wise words, encouragement, hugs and whisperings of courage; courage, dear heart.

I am almost consumed by indecision now. I want to follow my heart, but my head often speaks loudest. My brain lives to plan, plot, organise and rationalise. It’ll find its own way, but the hardest thing will be to find the courage to walk the path I choose. To walk it with conviction and not turn back. To deal with the vipers under rocks, the things that will trip me up, the storm clouds overhead. To know that my choices are the right choices for me, for my family, for my life.

I need to find my inner courage. Courage in my convictions and I need to trust my instincts. Overthinking only causes paralysis. So, courage, dear heart. Courage.

Courage, dear heart

Mental Health Awareness Month 2014

This May is Mental Health Awareness Month. In the UK we have Mental Health Awareness Week, which this year is 12th-18th May. This year the focus is on anxiety which is something which affects a huge amount of people, me included.

Given that a lot of people who Google “Anxiety” seem to end up on my blog, reading about my struggles, mainly with anxiety, but also depression, self harming and suicidal thoughts, I thought it was about time I pulled together an anthology of my misery and musings on mental health.

Some are hopeful and positive, some are me bouncing off the walls bonkers, most are me just getting things out of my head and making me feel better. Have a root around, please have a read about what takes your fancy, ignore what doesn’t. If you find something useful, or something that resonates then great.

If you’re struggling reach out, reach out to a friend, a lover, your GP, The Samaritans, anyone. Someone will listen and although it might not feel like it right now or when you’re in a dark hole, someone will care. You are not alone.

So in no particular order…

mental health

Party On Little Dude!

Last Saturday it was my little big man’s 3rd birthday party. It was, I’ll admit an occasion I was partly dreading. He’s not great at parties and never really wants to join in. Part of me considered it a massive waste of time, energy and money throwing a party for a kid who’d much rather run around with his chums than sit down and partake in an activity session. Thankfully I was wrong.

We’d invited 20 of his bestest friends forever to our local church hall, booked a very nice lady from Rhythm & Rhyme to come and entertain the troops and my mother ordered a cake, a very expensive, very amazing cake.

cake
NOT homemade but still amazing birthday cake

Apart from the cake we did the rest of the food ourselves. We went to Aldi, I made a stack of sandwiches. We had crisps, pizzas, dips, cakes, fruit, biscuits and juice. Standard toddler fayre.

The party went rather swimmingly and was a real whirlwind of fun. He behaved himself impeccably, only really throwing a wobbly when he was accidentally kicked in the head by another child.

He properly joined in with Rhythm & Rhyme, passed the parcels, he ate most of his buffet, graciously listened to everyone singing happy birthday and then blew his three candles out leaving surprisingly little spittle on the cake. We all clapped. Everyone left with a fairly decent party bag and a wedge of cake.

It was a simple party, and it seemed to us like we’d thrown it together at the last minute, but I think it was a success. We’ve had lots of positive comments since so that’s always good.

The next task is to sit down and write thank you cards. If you came and bought him a present, thank you, really, he got some amazing presents, you’ll get a card soon, I promise.

Next year I won’t fear his party, I reckon it’ll be cool and he’ll be old enough to tell us more about what he wants, within reason. It was worth the stress and the making of egg mayonnaise at midnight just to see his happy face, plus he’s talked of nothing else since. Happy birthday son x

Happy Birthday Baby x

My Dear Benjamin,
Happy Birthday darling, you’re three today and so grown up.

Birthday boy Benjamin
Birthday boy Benjamin

You’re such a cheeky, funny little monkey. Tonight you grabbed my boob and sang “jelly on a plate, jelly on a plate, wibble, wobble, wibble, wobble, jelly on a plate” it was a bit inappropriate but absolutely hilarious.

That’s you all over. You’ve got funny bones. I always say you’re the best bits of me and your Daddy rolled into one gorgeous, perfect little package. You’ve got your Dads calm, you’re clever like him too and can be quite considered; physically you’re almost identical to him, you run and walk the same, everyone says so.

You’re funny and cheeky like me; you’re a quick learner, pretty astute, but mainly just funny and laid back. Oh and your stubbornness, that comes from both of us, we come from a long line of pig-headed sods. Embrace it as the irritating gift it is, it’ll see you through some tough times one day, I’m pretty sure of that.

So, my beautiful Benjamin. You are much admired for your good looks and squishy cheeks. People comment on your gorgeous deep brown eyes with lashes that 98% of girls would kill for. They think you’re laid back and chilled, you’re funny and kind, you really are so kind Benjamin. Never lose that please.

You’ve got just the right amount of confidence. Enough so you can walk into a room and crack on with stuff without clinging to my legs, but not too much that people think you over-confident and precocious.

I think we’ve done a pretty decent job of dragging you up so far. You really are a good, easy going lad and we’re so proud of you. We’ve had a bad year and I’ve not been able to be the Mummy that you needed me to be, I hope that this next year we’ll be able to make up for lost time.

Stick to your guns and just be you, be true to yourself and always do what feels right. If you do that you won’t go far wrong.

Have a brilliant birthday Benj. You really are the best thing that’s ever happened to me and your Daddy. Keep being you.

All our love, forever,

Mummy & Daddy xxx

My Role Model

When you’re growing up, a lot of emphasis is put on having a role model. Someone you can look up to and aspire to be like; someone you can turn to with your troubles; someone who will praise you when it’s due.

For me, my role model (along with the rest of the school) was Mr Singh (RIP). He was my form tutor when I was 13. He was a chemistry teacher; he played in a band, went on Family Fortunes and was possibly the coolest, funniest man I’ve ever met. We all adored him. But he left at the end of the year, went on to bigger and better things, then sadly passed away at a depressingly young age.

Really your parents should be your role models and I think mine were for a while. Then I discovered their flaws and limitations. They also weren’t big on praise, problem solving or pushing yourself to achieve greatness. They tried, I’ll give them that.

After Mr Singh no one really stuck as a role model. People came into my life, nurtured me a little, then moved on. I had a couple of decent bosses who did what they could to push me forward, a few friends who encouraged me, but no one really slotting into that role model/mentor role that I craved and needed.

I know I’m constantly banging on about my brilliant husband. But he is well, brilliant. He’s not my role model though, but I hope very much that our son will look at him that way. He is wise, loving, patient, caring, hardworking and an all round good great amazing guy.

I’ve been massively lucky to stumble across some incredible people recently. Some top local bloggers have taken me under their wings, offering advice, guidance, contacts and some really fun plus one invitations. There are a couple of lads off Twitter who are refreshingly down to earth, and stop me being an idiot, whilst at the same time loving and caring for me as a brother would. I know I’m lucky, seriously amazing friends like that are hard to find.

I’m even luckier because I’ve found someone who’ll step into Mr Singh’s shoes. One of my recently acquired chums, (I will call him Dave because that’s his name) is a proper, stand up guy. He comes husband approved and is determined to make me stand on my own two feet and be the person he and everyone else knows I can be.

He’s currently trying to get me to write a novel. He believes in my writing and is determined to pull a book out of me. I’m not convinced, but he is, so I know it’ll happen one way or another. It’s great to have someone else apart from my husband, behind me who truly believes in me and helps me to clear any obstacles, real or imagined from my path. He’s no pushover and he challenges me if I try and make excuses.

He’s like a father, friend, editor, teacher and mentor rolled into one. He’s got a good job, isn’t a weirdo, he’s just a decent bloke who probably read Pygmalion at an early age and fancies himself as a bit of a Henry Higgins type.

I’ve floated aimlessly through life for years so it’s great to finally have a mentor, especially after the year I’ve had. I need someone not close to me to tell me my value, what my gifts are and to push me forward instead of me constantly taking a step back. I’m bored of hiding my light under a bushel, thanks to Dave and my wonderful husband and friends it’s my time to shine.

photo (47) (200x64)

Here’s Where The Story Ends

I had my first therapy session yesterday. Obviously it stirred up a lot of thoughts and feelings I thought I’d worked through, buried or come to terms with. I felt ok about things yesterday, but having slept on it I realise that I’m feeling very sad about one thing we discussed.

Friendships come and go, they are not linear and it’s unusual to keep lifelong friends. I’ve got some fantastic friends and I’ve hung on to the very best of them. I had a friend this year who was amazing, he emotionally supported me through all the hell, he kept me company when I was (very) lonely, he always said the right thing at the right time to cheer me up. I was very fond of him.

We fell out, something and nothing, but we stopped contacting each other. There was no big row, no crisis point reached. We just stopped. I guess he couldn’t cope with my madness anymore. I was sad for a while. I didn’t really understand and I still don’t really.

In therapy yesterday we were talking about who had been there for me this year. I started talking about him (amongst other people) and told the therapist the story of our friendship. Then I started crying. I don’t cry, I’ve stopped being able to cry, but I started crying.

She was incredibly understanding, I know it’s a small sadness amongst many that I need to address and just get over. I’ve got new, better, lovely, caring friends, but losing his friendship after he supported me so much and for so long was a blow.

She asked me why I was sad. I said that it feels a bit like watching a film and switching off 15 minutes before the end. I’ll never know how his film finishes. Then she said, “And he’ll never know how your film ends, and that’s his loss”.

I don’t think about him very often these days, but I do sometimes wonder about the last 15 minutes of his film. Closure is a bigger deal than you’d think. Closure is good. You don’t need to watch the whole 90 minutes and the closing credits to get closure. Sometimes you just make the choice to stop and move on. I’ve stopped and I’ve pretty much moved on. Progress.

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Thirteen Years

Thirteen years ago today I married the man I loved. I love him more now than I ever have, life has challenged us and we’ve survived it.

In our thirteen married years we’ve seen birth, death, poverty, riches, new jobs, old jobs, recessions, happiness, sadness, life changing surgeries, depression, confusion, change, stagnation and love. Most importantly love.

Without love who are we? Without loving someone or having someone love us back we are empty husks of people. It doesn’t matter if the thing you love is your husband, your child or a cat. Without love there is no meaning in this life.

I’ve not always loved my husband. Sometimes I’ve hated him, resented him, envied him. We’ve shouted, stamped our feet and screamed at each other. We’ve said and done hurtful things to each other. But we try never to let the sun set on an argument.

The day we married, my Mum said that he seemed to grow into a man when he slipped the ring on my finger. I’ll never forget the way he looked at me at that moment, his eyes so full of love and pride. He still looks at me like that now. Sometimes, not all the time. But he loves the bones of me and I love him right back.

He is my best friend, my lover, the father to my son, my provider, my saviour, my soulmate. I reckon life isn’t done with us yet, there’ll be more surprises round the corner, good and bad.

Life never wants to sit still, it likes hurtling along at ten thousand miles an hour. It’s a scary rollercoaster, but with him holding my hand I know I can be brave and that whatever twists and stomach churning turns we make, as long as we’re together and we love each other we’ll get through it.

So please be upstanding, raise a glass and let’s toast the Groom for putting up with me. Cheers!

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How we fell in love

Our wedding

Marrying into a different culture