Well, today is Tuesday on my first week of maternity leave. We awoke on Monday to a blanket of snow, and a neighbour who works at the school knocking on the door to let us know that the school was closed due to a burst water main.
I was left with one very happy little boy, he laughed, smiled and generally took his extra day off in good grace. My lovely other half wasn't at work till lunch time, so we had a fairly relaxed morning together - a treat we didn't know we had coming!
Today, I drove up the hills to take my little boy to school, as the weather was a little poor - hail and snow, but not settling. We got out of the car and walked the three minute walk into school in a cascade of sleet, my coat does not do up at the moment as my full term pregnant bump sticks out too far now, so I was frozen to ice by the time we got to his classroom.
I then walked my daughter back to the car, where we almost got run over by a Mother racing round the corner in her haste to get her own child to school. The horror that went through my mind in that split second was awful, and I shouted at her stupid car and her stupid unkowing face.
I then took my little girl to playgroup and retired home to spend a couple of hours pottering about.
To be honest I didn't do a lot. You don't often get the opportunity to sit with crap on tv, and play mindless card games on your computer, and I took the bull by the horns and ran with it!
Fast forward to this evening, my other half is ironing - a little chore that I can already feel winging its way back to me as soon as this baby makes his appearance. He is watching a film, and I feel a little bored, I think I should go and make my little boys packed lunch for tomorrow - if he will even need it. Its been snowing this afternoon - and although once it stops it does melt eventually, it does keep having a go at putting down more snow - they say we are to have this weather for the next 2 months on and off. Lets hope the baby chooses an off day to arrive, so we can travel to the hospital without too much trouble!
We are coming closer to Christmas now, tomorrow is in fact the first of December. But I don't think I have ever felt less Christmassy ever. I have watched Xmassy movies, listened to all my usual favourite Xmassy songs. I've been wrapping up presents, eating mince pies, making Christmas cakes, reading through my Christmas cook book - but nothing.
I am a control freak at heart, and I think my major problem with getting into the spirit of things this year is to do wth having absolutely no idea when my baby will arrive!
The other two children were both late. my son was 12 days late, and my daughter 9 days late.
I should really expect the same with this one too - but the irrational part of me is wondering if he will arrive in time for Xmas. I have a lovely vision of sitting on Xmas morning with the children excitedly tearing off the wrapping paper, and me sitting in the corner of the sofa with our new baby nestled on my lap.
In all honesty if the baby does arrive before Xmas, it will make it anything but relaxing.
Sitting here this evening, and having deleted things that I feel may upset people at some stage, I have discovered that growing up, or growing older and wiser maybe, is more to do with learning to just shut up, and less about knowing anything more than you did already.
I feel very old at the moment, and very quiet.
Tuesday 30 November 2010
Saturday 20 November 2010
Emotional, tired and ready to be me again!
Just read through my last post and have started crying again - I am so glad I wrote it, as I had forgotten most of that day - except for the pressure of trying hard not to cry at my baby girl growing up!
I cried again shortly after as we received her forms to request a place at school for her.
She really is far too small to go to school, she is only 3, we shouldn't have to contemplate these things when she hasn't even reached the heady heights of four years of age....
Anyway, I am now almost 36 weeks pregnant with her baby brother. Her older brother is going through one of his patches again, bickering with his sister at every opportunity, and bickering with me over every little thing. If I say the sky is blue then I am a liar, if I ask him to pull his socks up so he doesn't trip over I am ruining his life. I hate to say I have been a horrid Mummy this week - instead of rising above the petty childishness of it all (he is not yet six after all) I have been bickering back, and worse shouting and hollering at him. I am so tired and have barely any patience left, and I seem to remember feeling this way just before my daughter arrived, and it didn't shift for many many months after, despite her being a joy and sleeping very well for a newborn. I fear that I am turning back into that crappy Mother and I don't want to. So I shall struggle with my horridness and hope that he forgives me for my occasional outburst, just as I do his.
To be fair, he has been difficult. He is extremely opinionated, which I love and want! I want him to be an individual little soul and have his own unique viewpoint of the world. I just wish that his viewpoint didn't always include wandering about with his trousers falling down (he wont undo them to go to the toilet, he just pulls them down over his hips and hoists them back up as best he can - destroying the elastic which eventually gives up all hope of holding the rest of his trousers up and so another pair of trousers disappears into the bin!) or telling me a long list of reasons as to why he was perfectly within his rights to (a) hit his sister (b) play with his sisters toys (c) wont allow his sister to play with his toys (d) play on his Dad's Xbox (e) stay up late on a school night (f) can't do his homework because it will take him one hundred years to complete (g) can't pick his clothes up off the floor....the list is virtually endless, he has a 'reasonable' excuse for everything, and a long winded explanation to go with it which almost always results in my head resting in my hands and my eyes rolling into the back of my head!
At the same time as being opinionated and difficult, he is my lovely little boy. He likes cuddles with his Mummy and will sit and talk for hours on end about Ben 10, Star Wars and his favourite toys which are at the moment Lego. He will ask for every toy advertised on tv, from toys aimed at newborn babies, to dolls aimed at older girls - nothing escapes the standard 'Can I have that for Christmas?' pops out of his mouth, and now he has taught his sister to do this too.....poor Father Christmas hasn't a hope with the list he has produced this year, and has struggled terribly to find out what he would actually like to find in his stocking on Christmas morning....
The ready to be me part refers to being pregnant. I just feel like a tired shell at the moment, containing a baby. I cannot wait to meet him and hold him, and see what he looks like and give him his name. At the moment he is giving me a hard time with kicking and wriggling about, and I feel that my life at the moment is between my stomach moving about like something out of alien...also sickness has kind of returned so not feeling great about that, and not being able to sleep properly of comfortably at night leads to me looking like the walking dead most of the day, with the occasional nap to try and keep me going and keep crappy Mummy at bay a bit....
Feel like a moany moo tonight, there are no solutions and will all be better in time. But that doesn't actually make me feel any better right now!!
It hits home on a Saturday night how tired and miserable I am, I have my pjs on, thick dressing gown and big fluffy blue socks on. I may treat myself with a glass of sparkling water in a minute....my latest addiction. I may even stay up past 9pm although they way I am feeling right this minute I may tumble into my bed sooner.
I cried again shortly after as we received her forms to request a place at school for her.
She really is far too small to go to school, she is only 3, we shouldn't have to contemplate these things when she hasn't even reached the heady heights of four years of age....
Anyway, I am now almost 36 weeks pregnant with her baby brother. Her older brother is going through one of his patches again, bickering with his sister at every opportunity, and bickering with me over every little thing. If I say the sky is blue then I am a liar, if I ask him to pull his socks up so he doesn't trip over I am ruining his life. I hate to say I have been a horrid Mummy this week - instead of rising above the petty childishness of it all (he is not yet six after all) I have been bickering back, and worse shouting and hollering at him. I am so tired and have barely any patience left, and I seem to remember feeling this way just before my daughter arrived, and it didn't shift for many many months after, despite her being a joy and sleeping very well for a newborn. I fear that I am turning back into that crappy Mother and I don't want to. So I shall struggle with my horridness and hope that he forgives me for my occasional outburst, just as I do his.
To be fair, he has been difficult. He is extremely opinionated, which I love and want! I want him to be an individual little soul and have his own unique viewpoint of the world. I just wish that his viewpoint didn't always include wandering about with his trousers falling down (he wont undo them to go to the toilet, he just pulls them down over his hips and hoists them back up as best he can - destroying the elastic which eventually gives up all hope of holding the rest of his trousers up and so another pair of trousers disappears into the bin!) or telling me a long list of reasons as to why he was perfectly within his rights to (a) hit his sister (b) play with his sisters toys (c) wont allow his sister to play with his toys (d) play on his Dad's Xbox (e) stay up late on a school night (f) can't do his homework because it will take him one hundred years to complete (g) can't pick his clothes up off the floor....the list is virtually endless, he has a 'reasonable' excuse for everything, and a long winded explanation to go with it which almost always results in my head resting in my hands and my eyes rolling into the back of my head!
At the same time as being opinionated and difficult, he is my lovely little boy. He likes cuddles with his Mummy and will sit and talk for hours on end about Ben 10, Star Wars and his favourite toys which are at the moment Lego. He will ask for every toy advertised on tv, from toys aimed at newborn babies, to dolls aimed at older girls - nothing escapes the standard 'Can I have that for Christmas?' pops out of his mouth, and now he has taught his sister to do this too.....poor Father Christmas hasn't a hope with the list he has produced this year, and has struggled terribly to find out what he would actually like to find in his stocking on Christmas morning....
The ready to be me part refers to being pregnant. I just feel like a tired shell at the moment, containing a baby. I cannot wait to meet him and hold him, and see what he looks like and give him his name. At the moment he is giving me a hard time with kicking and wriggling about, and I feel that my life at the moment is between my stomach moving about like something out of alien...also sickness has kind of returned so not feeling great about that, and not being able to sleep properly of comfortably at night leads to me looking like the walking dead most of the day, with the occasional nap to try and keep me going and keep crappy Mummy at bay a bit....
Feel like a moany moo tonight, there are no solutions and will all be better in time. But that doesn't actually make me feel any better right now!!
It hits home on a Saturday night how tired and miserable I am, I have my pjs on, thick dressing gown and big fluffy blue socks on. I may treat myself with a glass of sparkling water in a minute....my latest addiction. I may even stay up past 9pm although they way I am feeling right this minute I may tumble into my bed sooner.
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