Well aren’t you just the big I am, waiting until I am at my lowest ebb before creeping in. Exhausted. Poorly. Vulnerable. What an arsehole you are! Two years this month since my last anxiety pill. Cause for celebration and look who came to the fucking party.
Not. Fucking. Welcome.
I was stronger than you then, I will be stronger than you again.
What’s making me almost smile to myself in the nearly 3am darkness is that I am defiant even as I am rocking backwards and forwards, mindful of the fact that I can’t stop moving. My cheeks are still wet and my mouth still aches from being pulled into that contorted ugly cry. I once read it described as lips looking like two slugs mating. Nice. My arms and legs are burning. My heart is pounding and chest aching. I am on fire but to anyone looking they would just see this weird, rocking, wet faced girl. Woman. Not been a girl for quite some time! I feel so very old. So very, very tired. But, panic – that’s not all your doing. You cannot claim credit for that. That lies with the small toddler beside me. Actually sleeping while I sit and rock and keep the tears quiet. The reason I keep them quiet – because I still control you, panic, because as long as I can keep the tears quiet for her sake it tells me I am still in charge.
You got me once.
Not a-fucking-gain you won’t, mate. Too much to do. Three kids to look after. Play and have fun with. Good distractions, all three of them. You can’t have me because they all have me. Every bit of me. I am far too busy for you today, tomorrow and every day.
Fuck the fuck off.
I’m alright. I’m safe. I’m fine. My mantra. Alright. Safe. Fine. Alright. Safe. Fine.
Said the rocking girl (woman) with the wet face…
Last night I was on the look out for something different to do. I had some lovely fresh chicken breasts available but having had pasta the day before didn’t fancy that and the weather was too warm for the Monday night “roast” they had been bought for. I hit up Google for some ideas and came across suggestions for various crunchy cereal coatings for chicken and fish and as luck would have it we happened to have plenty of most of the options suggested! The ones I found all suggested marinades and herby additions which me and Poppy would probably have enjoyed but the key to making dinner for the fusspots (husband and Izzy) is to keep it simple! It worked and was a hit all round, even with the littlest, Bluebell, who was able to gum down some extremely slim cuts (I am nervously embracing baby led weaning). I served them with mashed potato and loads of veg, some of which Izzy actually ate too! So here we go…
For the four and a bit of us I used:
Three good sized chicken breasts, a bowl of rice krispies, 1 egg, a splash of milk, flour and some frylight spray oil.
First I got some little helpers to smash the heck out of the rice krispies in a sandwich bag with a mini rolling pin. As they reduced the cereal to fine crumbs I diced the chicken into good chunks and floured them. Then I asked the biggest (Izzy) to prepare the egg with the splash of milk, she whisked together well, and put it on a plate with a rim. I transferred the floured chicken chunks to the egg plate a couple at a time and made sure they were totally covered. I put the cereal crumbs onto a big plate and put the eggy chicken on there, turning with a fork to coat them (I originally started out with my fingers but they were so covered in egg that the crumb kept coming off the chicken and coating me instead – the fork worked well to leave the crumb on the chicken where it belonged!). I had a couple of baking trays greased with a few good squirts of the Frylight oil standing by and as the chicken nuggets got dusted I placed them on there. Once they were all on the trays I gave one squirt of oil from above just for moisture and browning and popped them into the preheated oven (190°C) I left them in for 10 minutes before turning them over and giving them another 10 minutes but it will depend on how big, small, fat or thin your strips are. We like ours quite chunky!
Already been asked for them again and it was nice to get the girls in the kitchen with me on a project that required so little assistance from me so I could do the sharps and hots without lots of interruptions! Any recipes for an easy tomato ketchup I could whizz up would be gratefully received!
I am trying to think of something insightful to say. Or witty. Witty would be good. But you got me up at 4am. Four o’bloody clock. 0400hrs. Whatever way you say it it is TOO GODDAMN EARLY. You didn’t want to settle after your feed, you didn’t want to play either. You just wanted to yell at the unfairness of the clammy heat that stuck our skin together until the sweat that came between us made you slippery.
We partied for 2hrs. TWO BLOODY HOURS of yelling at me over youtube videos of lullabies, soothing piano music and eventually Ellie Goulding and Andrew Belle because, well, you weren’t bothered what was on so I might as well try anything.
You wiggled and strained. We rocked and nappy changed, fed and paced and yes even admit I turned my back on you briefly to see if you would get the message that it was time to go back to sleep. I am not good at things like that though so moments later had you scooped back up in my arms, shhhshing and lulling and hoping I would accidentally hit on the right way to soothe you.
Because most of my parenting is accidental if I am honest. How was I to know the crafts and art would go down so well with your big sisters? How was I to know that the meals they love the most would come from throwing stuff at a pan and seeing what happens? It wasn’t instinct that led us to find out you love the old Sony Bravo advert with all the bouncy balls (though who doesn’t watch that ad and wish they could re-enact it down their street?), but rather me googling everything that popped into my head to chill you out. Well at last it worked anyway and now here we are, early enough for you to get an hour and a half before I need to wake you for your sister’s school run but too late for me to squeeze out a few last zzzzz’s. If you had asked me at 4am if I would be ok with starting my day then and there I would have been horrified and said “You are joking aren’t you?” But actually now it has happened I don’t feel so bad. I will notice it more later but for now I am only noticing a few less horrifying things.
You are my last baby and though you are almost always in my arms our cuddles are often lost in amongst all the busy-ness of being a mum of three. I hold you while I read to your sisters, make lunches and do the school runs. I hold you while I feed you and myself in the afternoon and evening. But these night time and early morning feeds are our time. The pause button has been hit for the world around us and I can gaze at you. Learn what you are about. When I hold you I am cuddling you, soothing you and while at first it is frantic in the hope of sleep still being a possibility, as the possibility fades I find so does that harrassment. Because it no longer matters if you sleep, because I won’t, so I relax and start to enjoy those clammy sticky cuddles and the feel of your hot damp hand on my cheek or pulling at my nose. Nobody else needs me right now. Only you. Right now I am all yours and you are all mine – just as it was every night for nine months. My singing is songs you and I love, instead of having been picked to be least grating to daddy, least babyish for your 6yr old sister but still simple enough for your 3yr old sister to join in with. You aren’t pulling away from me looking for something to crawl towards or pull yourself up on, or searching for something completely inappropriate to chew on. For the past few hours it has just been you and me and what could be a sweeter way to start my day? I love you little lady, let’s do this again tomorrow (or maybe the next day?!) Xxxx
Me and Blue getting our cuddle on
It was almost like looking in a mirror.
I was stood on one side of the road and you were stood on the other. I, like you, had my pram and was flanked by two children – five year old on one side of me, three year old on the other. The three year old was screaming “mummy I want a cuddle!” with one breath and then, Miss Contrary that she was, bellowing “No mummy – leave me!!!” when I actually dared try to engage her. You were trying to placate your toddler boy and I could see your fraught face though I could not make out your words over the din of traffic and my own noise maker. We caught each others eye briefly as we waited for the green man to tell us we could continue the march to school and that is when, I think, we each saw ourselves in the other. Finally the beep as the green man appeared – the starter pistol telling us to get the banshees and go. Halfway across the road we met and I said “Something in the air?” just as you said “What’s up with the kids this morning?!”. You summed it up perfectly with your half joking, half deadly serious “GAAAAAAARGH!!!”.
For a few fleeting moments I had a comrade, a sister in arms, in you the perfect stranger and it made me smile in spite of myself (or, more accurately, in spite of bloody stroppy little madam to my right!).
I hope your day got better. Mine did, mainly thanks to bribery and Peppa Pig (not Dora the Explorer as after much brin wracking I now remember her to be the cause of the frackas in the first place!).
We recently welcomed a new flower to the family. Bluebell Hope arrived after the encouragement of an induction for health reasons (mummy’s – baby Blue is perfect!) three weeks ago. It wasn’t the easiest pregnancy – from being told it appeared we had lost a twin just over a month after falling pregnant after checking out bleeding, anxiety on the health of the remaining baby, SPD, predictions of a 10lb baby even before being diagnosed late with gestational diabetes which can make them even bigger if not managed correctly (yikes!) and subsequently having a few scary hypos due to being overcautious with my sugar levels before finally being told it would be adviseable to deliver a week or two early – but baby Bluebell (actually born weighing a perfectly reasonable 8lbs 14oz) was worth it.
I will no doubt blog a birth story when I come to reminisce on it one day in the not too distant future as I found it very hard to find positive induction stories online before mine. Rest assured for those awaiting their own miracles – labour hurts but it is no worse when induced than if you pop on your own! Every labour is different regardless of the woman or surroundings so when people say it hurts more to be induced bear in mind they don’t know what it would have been like without the intervention. Be positive, breathe and remember every contraction brings tour miracle closer to your waiting arms :).