Giants.

We went to see the giants in Liverpool. We didn't see much as the crowds were unreal but we were able to watch them be lifted onto the boats. I think the boys enjoyed the pic-nic I had packed more than the spectacle, Logan fell asleep and missed the whole thing! And I think Connor was, firstly overwhelmed by the number of people, and secondly bored of waiting.

After the giants had departed we decided that the longer we stayed in Liverpool the less busy the trains home would be. We spent the afternoon in the museum! Both of them, Connor especially loved it! Seeing and learning new things about all the stuff boys love. Dinosaurs, insects, fish and rockets, they had a blast! Seeing them there made me excited to take them again.

 

 

 

Potty Training.

I started to fear that Connor was getting a bit old to still be in nappies full time. Hitting two years and eight months old had come around that fast, combined with being pregnant and having Logan to look after too, it was just easier for me for him to be in nappies.

We had to take the leap and I was so ready for him fighting it and for the tears. He surprised me, undies went on one day and we haven't looked back, I think he was ready. It started as a bit of a novelty, going to the bathroom every half hour must have been exciting (me being pregnant played to our advantage here as I needed to go pretty much when he did). That soon wore off and quite often now he will just disappear off and I'll wonder where he has been, until I hear the toilet flush. That's right he stands at the toilet now too!

Number two's were a bit harder to crack but I think we are there. At first he would come and ask for a nappy when he needed to go, I didn't mind one nappy change in a day, and better him come and ask than just go! We tried sitting him down and waiting...and waiting but he just seemed scared of doing the whole poo thing without the safety net. I didn't want to send us backwards so I never forced him. Last week he came and told me that he needed a poo, I was all set to get a nappy out when he let me know that he wanted to go on his potty. He picked a book, took it to the bathroom and just did it! I was amazed, he was so grown up! I guess he just had to get used to the idea himself and when he was ready to do it he did. Of course a big fuss was made of him and he was very proud of himself. Now when he needs to go, he lets me know (I'm still needed for the cleaning up bit yet) grabs a book and does his thing. My baby is growing up, very quickly, into a fab little guy!

 

Home Birth.

I'm trying something different this time around, I'm going to, all being well, deliver the new addition at home.

I'm really excited about it, although I am a little nervous as I am completely unknowing of what to expect. At first I had attached a home birth with a water birth, this was the original plan. Having a pool set up in the lounge was how I saw myself labouring at home. After talking with my midwife that view changed. Apparently it's not overly common for home births to include water, outside of the bath. The more I read, the more I realised it wasn't unusual to have a home birth without a pool. When I looked at getting a pool the cost put me off as well, it turns out they can be pretty expensive, did I really want to spend all that money only to not want to use it on the big day?

So all this being said I am going to have my home birth- minus the pool.

There is always the fear that something might go wrong, I don't think this feeling will completely go away until she is here. I have asked a lot of questions of midwife and been completely reassured that if they get any sense of anything but normal I will be in hospital in ten minuets. They also bring all the equipment they may need.

I see a lot of positives to birthing at home; two midwives dedicated to mine and babies care, no need to worry about getting to and from hospital, or find urgent babysitters, no need to pack a hospital bag, although I will be packing a few bits just in case of emergency, and no spending the labour on a bed staring at four blank walls, I'll be able to move around as much as I like in my own surroundings!

I'm really excited for this experience that will, hopefully, bring me a less stressful birth surrounded by everyone and everything I need. And who could begrudge the thought of being able to get in your own bed on babies first night?

Wish me luck!

 

Striving.

Being a mum is hard. Yes it's amazing and rewarding and any other positive words you can think of, but it's really hard.

Being a mum is the most important thing in my life, and don't get me wrong I wouldn't give it up for a second, but the ideal of motherhood isn't always what I thought it would be. A picture, probably created by other judgemental mums pretending to have it all worked out, is painted and if I don't fit into it it's like a failure. This perfectionist view must be made apparent to the outside world, the mask of a perfect happy family can't slip. It's sad because the person who judges me the most is me. I want, almost need, people to think it's no problem.

The choice to be a mum was mine. If people see my family's imperfections, squabbles or downfalls they might wonder why I made that choice. Admitting that it's not all it cracked up to be all the time would be an announcement of my failings.

Am I allowed to say that being labelled as a mum, just a mum, can be hard, exhausting and even lonely at times. A day filled with constantly forfronting the needs of others and climbing a mountain of housework that never ends can be really boring. I shouldn't be saying this, it's selfish and opposes everything that being a mum stands for. But I can't help that, for me, it's true. Of course there are times when the babes are so good, they listen to what I'm saying, play nicely and genuinely are the sweetest and funniest people I have ever met. But those moments don't erase them trashing the room I've just tidied or throwing food at the walls.

I think people focus on the positives, so that's how I compare and judge myself, on how many positives I can take from a day. Some days it's not that many and that can make me feel rubbish, then I feel guilty for feeling rubbish. I think I need to focus more on the fact that I'm allowed to feel rubbish sometimes, some days are rubbish! That doesn't mean tomorrow will be rubbish too.

Everyone has an ideal of what kind of parent they will be, how they will bring up their kids to be the best people they can be. I had an ideal but that went out the window a while ago now. I'm just kind of winging it.... And I'm ok with that. Some days are hard, but I face each challenge as it hits me in the face and, I think, I'm doing ok. Other people might think differently but other people don't matter.

Having my family is the best thing I ever did, but that doesn't mean I have to strive for perfection, I can't be bothered. My family isn't perfect and I'm glad.

 

Growing Out.

So bump number three is cooking along nicely! I am carrying her completely differently to how I did with the boys. I was more rounded with them... she feels like a football under my shirt, a wriggly one at that!