Tuesday, 26 April 2016

From Poppy Seed To Jalapeño (Or Week 5 to 14 For Those Regular Folk Who Don't Use Crazy Fruit & Veg Comparisons)

Week 5 was the exact reason I dislike fruit & veg comparisons. According to everyone the baby at this point is the size of a Poppy Seed. This is according to everyone but my waistline it would appear, because I'm unsure how a poppy seed could possibly have been responsible for my gargantuan bloat belly. I'm kind of thinking that wind may have been a huge factor though, due to the fact I couldn't bend over without a sudden gust catching me off guard. 

Combine that with the adult acne that erupted on my chin and it's clear that at week 5 of pregnancy I was an absolute catch! 
It was at this point I also discovered that my brain and mouth were no longer friends and did not work together anymore. I could have an extremely intelligent opinion that I desperately needed to share with people, yet as soon as I opened my mouth I forgot the entire gist of this amazing piece of information I had, and instead regurgitated snippets of sentences that didn't necessarily make sense. Luckily my breasts (touch them and I'll scream) had gone up a size, putting me at a distinct advantage of thrusting them in people's face to distract them from the utter shit that was falling from my mouth.

At week 6 (Black Peppercorn) I suddenly decided at 5pm on a Sunday that after cooking a roast chicken I in fact no longer liked chicken, and had to spend the entire meal dramatically averting my eyes from those in the room eating it. I had also developed the skills of a sniffer dog and could have been employed by MI5 immediately. No scent was undetectable and I took to just walking around sniffing the air. 
Then again, do MI5 hire people with narcolepsy? Because I appeared to have contracted that also. 

With baby the size of a blueberry at week 7 I spent the majority of my time 
horizontal and gipping at the smell of pretty much everything. If it hadn't been for my secret pancake & maple syrup gorges I would have been convinced I had some sort of terrible stomach flu. Or I was maybe turning in to a zombie.

Week 8 informed me that baby was the size of a raspberry, however I was beyond caring as I trundled through the week on an emotional roller coaster. I was still horizontal and walking round like a zombie although this time I was a zombie with a permanently anxious face. Every worry or negative thought I could possibly have was surfacing this week. I must be crazy to have another child! What will we do for money when I leave work? What if there isn't enough space in our house? What if my four year old thinks I don't love him anymore? What if I die in childbirth. Yes, I went there. I went as far as death. Now I'm sure a glass of Prosecco would have eased these nightmarish thoughts, however all alcohol has been banished so instead I was forced to find comfort in 2 boxes of milk tray and a 5lb weight gain.

Strawberry sized at week 9 I can make no sense of my diary scribbles for that week except for something to do with wanting a vanilla slice and being an irrational cow. 

I kind of lost interest in mocking fruit comparisons at week 10 (if I'm honest it was a fruit I'd never heard of and I didn't have the audacity to mock when I'm clearly so uncultured) 
But week 10 was the week I went off tea! My favourite thing to drink, and I'd been such a good girl by having decaf too! My morning beverage now consists of hot water with honey and lemon, or a fruit tea. Of course this makes me feel extremely healthy and Gwyneth Paltrow(ish) in my pregnancy. I just need to take up some antenatal Yoga and Pilates. Or not. 

Week 11 to 14 I just felt, well, normal! Hooray! Normal to the point where I kind of forgot I was pregnant for a while. And that's where I am now! Week 14 and feeling fabulous! I've also discovered nonalcoholic Prosecco ACTUALLY tastes like Prosecco, and I've fallen in love with Kopparberg non alcoholic pear cider! What more could you want!!

Saturday, 23 April 2016

First Pregnancy v Second Pregnancy

When I was pregnant with my first child I was filled with excitement, curiosity, hopes and dreams. I itched to find out what sex I was having so I could buy them their first outfit.  I was signed up to every baby club going so I could make use of free nappy samples and changing bags, and my first scan was framed and had pride of place on my window. 
Second time around things are a little different. Maybe it's me? Maybe it's experienced by every woman after their first pregnancy? I don't know. But I've definitely noticed some vast differences in my behaviour this time around. 

My first pregnancy scan was so exciting! I couldn't wait to see my little baby wriggling around in there! I kept the picture in a cutesy little frame (that I had free when I signed up to Pampers baby club) and put it in the centre of my window where I could see it every morning when I woke up. I would stare at the picture for hours and after uploading it to Facebook I used it as my profile picture.
For my current pregnancy scan I was excited, don't get me wrong, however I was more apprehensive that the sonographer was going to tell me I was having multiples! 
There was no frame for the picture to go in and I've probably looked at it twice. At present I don't actually know where it is. Probably somewhere in my sons room as he somehow convinced that this is "his" baby. 

Baby buying
For pregnancy number one I had a precise list of things I needed, after thoroughly researching relevant baby books. I stocked up on nappies and wipes when they were on sale. I had tiny outfits that I folded and unfolded time and time again and placed neatly in the drawers of a changing table. I had selected a pram and a cot, and the nursery was all set up. I would walk past the baby's future room and stand there looking around, imagining the time when my little bundle of joy finally arrived.
My current bundle of joy on the way has a cardboard box that's been slung in the corner of my dining room full of baby gro's and vests that I had for their big brother. I have no intentions of buying a pram or a cot until they're about 5 months old, and there's no nursery to set up as they will simply be residing in my bedroom.  

Baby Apps
I had everything going the first time round. I'd open them all up on my phone every morning to see what had grown today and what was developing this week. One app even posted to Facebook for me every week so all my friends had the glorious opportunity in joining me for the ride (I probably saw a noticeable decrease of Facebook friends over those months.)
This time I have one app. I haven't opened it in a good few days and the majority of the time that I do its to remind myself how far along I am with my pregnancy. 

When I first started recognising these differences in behaviour between 1st and 2nd pregnancies I felt like an awful mum. I wondered what was different this time. And then it struck me. Everything is different!! Unlike in my first pregnancy I already am a mum! I have another mini human occupying my mind and time. 
This baby isn't less loved, or less important than my first, but I just don't have as much free time to completely absorb myself in my pregnancy and everything it involves. Sometimes I forget I'm even pregnant at all! 
My second child isn't less fortunate because they won't have the things their brother had. If anything they are more fortunate because mummy now knows that this baby really won't care if they're wearing hand me down baby gro's and don't have non essential baby items. 
Instead of a mummy who prods them every half an hour to check they're breathing, and stares at them wondering how on earth they're going to keep them alive, this baby will have a Mummy who is more confident than what she was the first time around. They'll have a mummy that knows her capabilities and doesn't strive to be somebody she is not. 
It isn't that I care less this time around, it's just that I'm now more aware. Aware of the things that are important and the things that are not. Aware that my baby is oblivious as to whether I'm staring at its scan picture, but my four year old isn't when he wants me to look at a certificate he's won at school. 
Things are completely different with this pregnancy. But a change in behaviour doesn't mean a change in emotion and feelings. I still feel the same way about this child as I did my first. I'm just a different person. A different mum. And hopefully a better one. 

Friday, 15 April 2016

What Parents Say And What They Mean

Kids are hardy little creatures, but despite their tough natures there are some things we just can't say to them, and as parents we rely on saying things that have actually no resemblance to whatever it is that we are really trying to say, to avoid having to say the things that we really want to say.

I know! It's complicated. 
I've become so good at saying things that I don't really want to say in order not to say something I do want to say that I don't know what I'm saying anymore.
And I don't stop at children. I've perfected this technique to be adult friendly too. And I'm guessing that if you have a child that is now walking/talking you'll have started to perfect your own techniques and may use some of the following!

Kids! What we say and what we mean!

 "In a minute"
I'm hoping you'll get distracted and forget about whatever it is you've just asked me to do.

"Do you want to play with my phone?"
I'm willing to trade off my personal belongings to you just for five minutes peace, where you can stare zombified at YouTube clips and I can close my eyes. 

"I'm not going to tell you again!"
I've already told you to stop whatever it is you're doing 13 times in 5 minutes. But THIS TIME Mummy is seriously going to lose her shit. But no doubt I AM going to tell you again because from the day you were born you've been working on weakening my soul.

"Because I said so"
Listen! I can't put up with much more of this "why" shit. 

You've just caught me shoving a Bounty in my mouth behind the fridge door, because I'd rather lose my dignity like this than allow you to get your pudgy little hands on it. 

Adults! What we say and what we mean!

"He's tired/She's teething"
I actually have no clue why they are acting like this other than they were put on this earth to kill me. Yes. Kill me. 

"Excuse the mess"
I'm saying this so that you're aware that I'm not oblivious to the dump that I'm living in. Please refrain from eyeballing the cobwebs hanging from my ceiling. 

"Thanks for suggesting that! I'll definitely try it"
You're an idiot. I'm never doing that to my child. Get the fuck out of my house. 

"We'll have to do lunch one day with the kids!"
Or we can just sit and drink a bottle of prosecco?  

Note: It's a complex case of communication malfunction and the list is not exhaustive. 

Life Love and Dirty Dishes
Life Love and Dirty Dishes