Sunday, 26 January 2014
Where Mother Nature went wrong...
Over the last year, I have been constantly amazed by Mother Nature. I was amazed by how my body became the perfect home for a growing baby, I was amazed by how my body knew exactly what to do in labour, it knew when to push and it knew how to love that tiny screaming baby totally unconditionally the second he was born. I was amazed that within seconds of him being born, my body had produced colostrum to feed him, full of antibodies and goodness, perfect for his tiny body. I was amazed in the coming weeks that my body just didn't need the same amount of sleep, where I'd gone from being a deep sleeper, I now woke when my baby's breathing changed slightly or when he moved his head in his sleep. Quite simply, Mother Nature is just amazing.
Apart from one thing. One failing. Surely when a new mother is totally sleep deprived, her body should do everything it can to get sleep as soon as her baby is asleep. But no. I spend my nights lying wide awake staring at my little boy. I watch his chest rise and fall, over and over. I kiss his eye lids and every tiny finger. I whisper in the darkness and tell him how much I love him. I can't take my eyes off him. I may have only had an hours sleep all night, but it makes no difference. Watching a sleeping baby is possibly one of the best things in the world. It makes me appreciate everything, I think about how lucky I am and how much I adore that tiny sleeping human. How I'd do anything for him.
But it has meant that I've lost hours of precious sleep at a time when I've needed those hours the most. So that's the one failing of my body...it has lost the ability to sleep anytime, anywhere. But I wouldn't change it for the world.
5 things I miss most about Essex...
1. The weather. As I was driving though Brentwood yesterday, my car informed me that it was 13 degrees...yes northern friends, that's not a typo...THIRTEEN degrees, not minus 13, thirteen whole degrees. Southern friends, you may be asking what the big deal is...if it reaches 13 degrees in July in Durham we wear shorts and flip flops...it's positively tropical weather. Jokes aside, I definitely miss those few degrees difference, especially at this time of year.
2. The restaurants. Mr B and I lived here when we had a big disposable income, pre-baby and mortgage! This meant that we ate out ALL the time. I miss the Lion Inn most of all. Their belly pork is the best ever. It's also where we spent many happy occasions, date nights, Valentine's days, the night before our wedding with our family. I think Mr B misses Omar's more, an amazing Indian up the road that serves the best fish curry in the world and lets you bring your own alcohol...heaven, if you are my husband. Essex is full of amazing restaurants and I miss them all (and the days of eating out 4 times a week...)
3. How busy it is. Ironically this is the thing that I hated when I lived here. I hated the traffic, the M25, the queuing. But when I come back I love how alive it is, how much is going on. I love how close it is to London and all that is going on there. I love how easy it is to travel around the county or abroad because of the transport links and airports. (I may retract this statement if I get stuck on the M25 or M11 on the way home with a crying baby!)
4. The places. Papermill Lock, Thorndon Park, Hylands Park, Lakeside, Bluewater, Maldon seafront, Barleylands, Marsh Farm, Stock Brook manor, Crondon Park, St Peter's church, South Weald. I could go on and on. Places filled with the happiest of memories.
5. The people. Essex folk have a bad name generally, TOWIE hasn't helped. All I can tell you is they are some of the loveliest, most genuine people I have ever met. I miss the children I used to teach, I miss their parents and I miss the ladies I used to work with; my Essex Mums. I miss my friends and neighbours (and doggy neighbours) and I miss my beautiful Essex family most of all. Some of my very favourite people in the world live in this county and ultimately that is the reason that I miss it so much.
Friday, 24 January 2014
Travelling with a baby....
So today I learnt that a 4 hour journey as a couple becomes an 8 hour journey as a family. I kid you not. We left Durham at 10am and arrived in Essex at 6pm. We didn't sit in traffic for a minute, it was the 4 month old in the back that slowed us down.
Today's discovery...vanilla spice latte. Good fuel for long journeys!
Where we used to turn the radio up and sing along (apart from when Mr B made is listen to Talksport...yawn!), we now sing baa baa black sheep over and over. Where we used to do anything to avoid bumps and potholes in the road, we actively seek them out because the bumpier the better for getting the baby to sleep! Where we used to run into the services and grab a McDonald's half way down, we now stop at every service station for a feed, nappy change and wander...anything to occupy the bored baby and get him out of his car seat. Where we used to pack a small suitcase between us, our car is now packed full to the roof...I'm surprised there's anything left behind at home. How can a tiny baby need so much stuff for a long weekend?!
Anyway we have finally arrived (I could have flown to New York in the same amount of time!!) and settled in. Henry is loving all his cousins' toys and the attention he's getting, and I'm loving being in a house full of The Nod's baking and some of my very favourite people in the world.
Night night from lovely Essex x
Thursday, 23 January 2014
Sun'land 'till I die...
So despite being absolutely shattered by 8pm, I stayed up until last night to watch the football. Sunderland v Man Utd in the semi final of the cup. I couldn't sit down, I was nervous, I had my fist in my mouth at one point to stop myself from shouting out and waking the baby. Henry decided that the 3rd Sunderland penalty would be a good time to wake up so I watched the last penalties in the dark hallway whilst feeding and rocking him back to sleep. After I eventually got to bed, I couldn't sleep, I was so happy for the lads, our first final in the 'new' Wembley.
'Just a game' I hear you say. I'm afraid you couldn't be more wrong.
My whole family are mackems, it's in the blood. We started going to the games when we were really young. I can remember my brother, cousins and I dressed in our matching Sunderland tracksuits sitting in Roker Park in the bitter cold. I don't think we paid too much attention to the actual football, we were more into soaking up the atmosphere, giggling at the swearing and tucking into our mix ups and little bottles of Villa pop. A few years later we had season tickets at the new and improved Stadium of Light (minus the wooden floor for stamping, unfortunately) and it turned into a family event every fortnight. We'd go to Gran and Grandad's house on the way home for tea every week and I have such fond memories of those times. I remember crying all the way home from London to Durham when we lost in the play off final against Charlton...despite my Auntie telling me that only Geordies cried. I remember being promoted and going to watch the team's bus through Sunderland, the whole seafront packed with fans dressed in red and white. I remember holding Kevin Ball's hand and walking out as a mascot against Middlesborough and having a little kick about with Michael Gray, my favourite ever player. I remember the little section of grass in our old back garden...authentic Roker Park turf bought when we moved to the new stadium. I remember the feeling of winning a big game...against Newcastle ideally! My childhood is littered with memories of this football club.
So you see, it isn't just a game. It's a way of life. It's where memories are made and where you experience every emotion possible.
Now to get my hands on a ticket for the final...
Wednesday, 22 January 2014
Mummy to the rescue
Henry HATES bottles. He totally refuses to drink one now, he much prefers his mummy, none of this expressed milk rubbish!
On one hand it's beyond frustrating. It means I can't leave him for longer than a couple of hours at a time and I can't have the odd night off, no matter how tired I am or how willing Daddy is to take over.
On the other hand I love that he needs me and it's not just for milk. The milk in the bottle is exactly the same as the milk he gets from me, yet he doesn't want that. He wants the warmth of his Mummy and he wants the comfort that that brings. I love that I'm the only person in the world that can make everything ok. If he's cold, Mummy gets him a blanket. If he's hungry, Mummy feeds him. If he's hurting, Mummy stops the pain. He trusts me implicitly, I can always make everything ok.
From the moment that he was born I've worried about when he's all grown up and I can't make everything ok anymore. I joke that I want him to stay home and live with us forever. He is never allowed a girlfriend or to get married.
I know that when he falls over and hurts his knees when he's 5, I'll be able to cuddle him, kiss away his tears and make everything ok. But I also know that when he doesn't get picked for the school football team, there's nothing I'll be able to say to make him feel better. I know that when a girl breaks his heart, I won't be able to do anything, he probably won't even want to talk about it with me. When he fails his driving test or doesn't get into the university that he's chosen, there will be nothing I can do to stop him hurting and as a Mummy that is the worst feeling in the world. I never want my baby to grow up.
I need to try to enjoy every second of being his super hero, I know it won't last forever. So when he looks up at me from his cot at 3am with his gorgeous brown eyes, instead of sighing at the prospect of yet another night feed, I need to pick him up, kiss his soft cheeks, breathe in his gorgeous scent and remember that one day I will give anything to be back here...just me and him in the middle of the night.
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