Yet another grand milestone has just passed... on April 21st 2009 at 7:45pm (ish) the little man started to crawl. But first let me just take this back a few months.
When I first found out I was pregnant I was determined to focus on work and kept repeating the mantra 'it's only a pregnancy, not an illness'. I found I had a year and half of work to fit into six months as I needed to leave all this years work as complete as possible and much of the planning and report work prepared for the beginning of the next year. (I am referring to academic terms and years as I work in a school environment.) I relished the challenge and made every effort to ensure that any pregnancy related appointments were as far away from student contact time as I was able to make them (as dictated by local GP and hospital times.) At this time I just knew that I would be back at work, maybe by Christmas, possibly February half term, definitely by Easter. I love my work, in fact it is not a job but a vocation to me and ever since I have entered into this field I have always felt I have been one of the very few, very lucky people that love to get up and get to work - having said that I could quite happily live without the meetings and paperwork but nothing is perfect I guess! Once the little man made his appearance on 1st July 2008 my work colleagues were keen to know when I would be starting back. But now I had a new force to contend with, Mother Nature. Oh how I had underestimated her natural powers and the maternal instinct. I had a good idea that the final decision on exactly when to start back to work would be a bit difficult and the actual leaving my baby with another woman would be, in essence, hard but not impossible. I repeat again, Oh how I had underestimated her natural powers and the maternal instinct. As I started to waste precious time worrying I decided to not even think about it until after Christmas, that would give the little man six months to grow and become a little less dependant on me. Well that flew by in a matter of moments - I have been told on good authority that it really was six months but even now, nine months on I still think that it has only been moments.
The question of 'when' I return started to become 'if' in my mind but how was I to even start to mention this to work or equally as importantly, to PM (Play Mate = husband). Now this was all news to PM or was when I finally plucked up the courage to bring it up in discussion though I did try to soften the blow with 'I will ask a question and then remain silent for a while while you talk through all your views on it - 'what are your pros and con's on me going back to work - F/T or P/T optional at this stage or maybe not at all?' To summarise PM was all for me going back to work for at least three days a week. Not the response I was looking for. (I did repeat this question a couple more times on different occasions and yet his answer was always the same.) So I anguished more and fretted, wasted more time worrying about all possible outcomes and the effects it would have on: little man, PM, students, work colleagues and anyone else I could think of to throw into the equation to make things tougher on myself. It always came back to two major factors. Secondly, financially, the money I earnt would only just cover childcare and in the event of little man becoming ill I would have to take time off work unpaid but still have to pay the childminder so PM would have to sub all this from his wages - basically, no financial gain for lots of extra time, effort, paperwork etc all done in my family time. But firstly and most importantly, I knew that I just could not leave my baby boy to be looked after by someone else and have them experience all the firsts: crawling, teeth, steps, words, clapping, all those little moments when you cry with laughter at the silliest things together, all that time that you can never have back again. In the end, it really wasn't a hard decision, the difficult bit was coming to terms with how much motherhood had changed me and then letting others know. Basically, I decided to become a full time mum so I could be there for him and see all those precious first moments.
So, getting back to the business of the little man starting to crawl. There I was, standing at the stove, slave to the supper (lamb shank just for the record - and very tasty it was too) as PM gives the little man his last bottle before bed. Now little man is a creature of habit and just didn't want to drink, so PM was giving him a bit of play time before trying him again with the milk. Nothing different there. Milk was re offered after 15 minutes and a reasonable amount more drunk so next is bedtime. I am still busy in the kitchen and PM is distracted by a popular soap on the TV so time is passing. I make a 'useful' verbal suggestion (meaning not very subtle hint) 'supper is ready, do you want me to put him to bed as I am very hungry?' Useful reply to this from PM 'erm, oh, ah, he is just having a few minutes to play' a delay tactic to extend TV soap watching. Occasionally the 'slummy devil' on my left shoulder wins over the 'perfect housewife/mother' on my right and this was one of those moments. What I should have said was 'you finish getting the supper and I will put him to bed unless you would rather do bedtime' but what actually came out was 'I suppose we could have this now while he plays a bit longer, it should be OK if he goes to bed a bit late'. (By now I was also getting a little distracted by said TV soap.) Mistake! For this is when a moment of slumminess turned and took a big bite out of me as the little man, on hearing those words, decided to steel this moment of laxness on my part and crawl without me being there to witness it. To refine the details slightly, PM was trying to discretely maximise gazing at the TV while entertaining the little man by gently rolling back and forth a ball. Little man suddenly gets up on one knee, tucks the other leg underneath (to odd to visualise but believe me it looks very uncomfortable) and does a sort of half crawl half bum shuffle and 'crawffles' his way around the floor in earnest after the ball. I am totally oblivious to all this as I have reach the moment of thickening gravy with cornflour determined that it will not go lumpy. Only a casual throw-away remark from PM ('he's quite good at getting that ball for himself now') as I put plates of food onto the table make me turn at neck breaking speed to see the little chap having a good old 'crawffle' towards the cat food bowl. I exclaimed rather loudly 'he's never done that before - or eaten cat food which he will do if you don't grab him fast' (PM was nearer to him than me).
So all this anguish over returning to work - or not, as I handed in my notice two weeks ago - so I could be there for each precious milestone, and because of a moment of slumminess I missed it. Had I been the good housewife/mother he would have been in bed and the moment saved for another time. So you would be forgiven for thinking that I feel terribly sad at missing the very first 'crawffle' but three things stop this. Firstly, I am so so delighted that PM got to be the first person to see this - I feel that men get a pretty raw deal having to be at work all day and missing out on all the special moments (not that I heard any complaints about missing out on nursing a baby with chicken pox or looking after a crying drooling mess during teething pains - funny that!). Secondly, I have been there for every milestone so far and with this one I have watched as over the last few weeks he has tried so hard to get on his knees and just started working out forward propulsion and have had the special role of being there with the hugs and kisses as it went slightly wrong, and thirdly, I am just the proudest mum around!
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
Friday, 3 April 2009
A silver lining to every cloudy day
Two days ago my little man turn nine months old. He celebrated a day early with a spectacular outbreak of the infamous childhood sickness... chicken pox! Now I believe there is never a good time to be ill but so many people have said how lucky we are to get it over with early - which then begs the question, when I offered all his friends the fabulous opportunity to come round to play and catch the pox, why did all the mums say no?
The hidden 'joy' of chicken pox is you have no idea when or where your precious child picked up the virus. It is caught and remains dormant in the body for 10 - 21 days - I struggle to remember where we went two days ago let alone ten so its origin will forever remain a mystery to us! I did the dutiful thing and phoned all those we had been in contact with over the last few days (to date no-one is ill but if my maths is correct anyone who is going to suffer as a result of contact with my little man should start to feel poorly by the end of next week!). To start with I fell foul of being rather smug as polite enquires about his health had me saying 'he isn't too bad, just a few spots and in good spirits, I have mown the lawn and started to paint his bedroom, got the washing done blah blah blah.' Oh how I was to pay for such a cock-sure attitude! One very sleepless night later and the day from hell began, ironically, on April Fools Day! My 'not to spotty' boy and suddenly gone from a dot-to-dot for children to a blockbuster in braille! The eyes, ears and even his tongue became victim to this affliction.
In the depths of the poor little mans misery there comes a moment that makes you wonder at just how amazing the little people are. Our boy has a temperature, chicken pox everywhere, is itching like crazy and through all this he suddenly discovers he can clap his hands together! And there was my saving moment, my silver lining to that very grey of days. Each time he started to grizzle I started to sing 'if your happy and you know it', he would look at his hands, start clapping them together and grin at just how clever he was! The song became the 'catch-phrase' of the next few days. It was a wonderful thing to be able to make such a sorry little man smile through his misery though I wonder if my PMs smile was wiped from his face when he heard it for the enth time throughout the following nights!
Today the little man has been slightly better and my skills as a singer have been given a bit of a rest. I felt very lucky having so many people text, phone and FB (Facebook) to see how the patients progress has been. I also have a wonderful PM who on the worst day came home from work and took over being nursemaid and entertainer so I could finally escape the house for some much needed fresh air, time out and in true 'slummy mummy style' a healthy glass or two of wine with the GGs (Greenhithe Girls).
Very bright sliver linings indeed!
PS. Treatments to recommend: bicarbonate of soda in a tepid bath, calamine cream (not so drying as lotion) and baby ibuprofen - if over a year old they can have antihistamine syrup to ease the itching, bad luck for those who were under a year old at the time!
The hidden 'joy' of chicken pox is you have no idea when or where your precious child picked up the virus. It is caught and remains dormant in the body for 10 - 21 days - I struggle to remember where we went two days ago let alone ten so its origin will forever remain a mystery to us! I did the dutiful thing and phoned all those we had been in contact with over the last few days (to date no-one is ill but if my maths is correct anyone who is going to suffer as a result of contact with my little man should start to feel poorly by the end of next week!). To start with I fell foul of being rather smug as polite enquires about his health had me saying 'he isn't too bad, just a few spots and in good spirits, I have mown the lawn and started to paint his bedroom, got the washing done blah blah blah.' Oh how I was to pay for such a cock-sure attitude! One very sleepless night later and the day from hell began, ironically, on April Fools Day! My 'not to spotty' boy and suddenly gone from a dot-to-dot for children to a blockbuster in braille! The eyes, ears and even his tongue became victim to this affliction.
In the depths of the poor little mans misery there comes a moment that makes you wonder at just how amazing the little people are. Our boy has a temperature, chicken pox everywhere, is itching like crazy and through all this he suddenly discovers he can clap his hands together! And there was my saving moment, my silver lining to that very grey of days. Each time he started to grizzle I started to sing 'if your happy and you know it', he would look at his hands, start clapping them together and grin at just how clever he was! The song became the 'catch-phrase' of the next few days. It was a wonderful thing to be able to make such a sorry little man smile through his misery though I wonder if my PMs smile was wiped from his face when he heard it for the enth time throughout the following nights!
Today the little man has been slightly better and my skills as a singer have been given a bit of a rest. I felt very lucky having so many people text, phone and FB (Facebook) to see how the patients progress has been. I also have a wonderful PM who on the worst day came home from work and took over being nursemaid and entertainer so I could finally escape the house for some much needed fresh air, time out and in true 'slummy mummy style' a healthy glass or two of wine with the GGs (Greenhithe Girls).
Very bright sliver linings indeed!
PS. Treatments to recommend: bicarbonate of soda in a tepid bath, calamine cream (not so drying as lotion) and baby ibuprofen - if over a year old they can have antihistamine syrup to ease the itching, bad luck for those who were under a year old at the time!
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