Comfort

Last night was one of those really tough nights of parenting. One of the ones that makes you wonder how you are going to cope with two. Why you ever thought you could cope with one. One of the ones that feels like it will never end but will be forgotten in an instant when something wonderful happens that we will remember forever like a milestone or a kiss.

There was vomit, lots of vomit. And tears, lots and lots of tears. And no sleep.

As I was lying in bed, listening to Shaun comfort our son through his 4th bout of vomiting, I thought how tender he is. How tender their relationship is. How lucky I am that I can stay in bed and listen to them rather than having to be the one up and doing it all alone. But as he whispered to him 'it's ok Puffin, it's ok, just get it all out, you'll be ok, Daddy's here, it's going to be ok, you are going to be ok, I love you, just get it out and you will feel better, I love you' I found myself thinking 'he can't hear you'.

And I think that this the is part of Will's hearing impairment that hurts the most. That in the depths of illness, as infrequent as they are, we don't put his hearing aids in. But we still talk to him, whisper to him. We use words that have been used to comfort us through pain by our own parents, by each other. And he misses all of it.

I take some comfort of my own in that I am a great believer in the power of touch. I am a tactile person and Shaun and I are a very tactile couple. William is cuddled and kissed and held and rocked and nurtured whether or not he is ill. And last night, when Shaun was whispering to him that it was all going to be ok, I hope that even though he couldn't hear him, he could understand that Daddy was there because Daddy was just that, there. Holding him, stroking his brow, mopping the sick from his mouth, kissing his head.

And I hope that every evening before I go to bed when I look in on my sleeping baby and tell him I love him, what he doesn't hear in my words he understands the next morning when we start our day with a long, perfect hug.

Because actions, as they say, speak louder than words.

I have to tell you this story

This is my favourite piece of perfect communication William has carried out yet.

My parents were here this weekend and when Will woke up I took him into their bedroom to see them. After a bit of pottering he found my Dad's car keys on the side. He showed them to my Dad and my Dad signed 'car' to him (pretended to turn a steering wheel). William did it back and my Dad nodded. "Yes, car".

Then it got really cute. William pulled at my Dad until he was out of bed and sitting up. Then he went and got my Dad's shoes for him and gestured that he had to put them on. OMG just the cutest thing. Then he pulled at my Dad's hand again, to the stairs, down the stairs, to the front door, out into the street and into the car.

Last time my Dad was here he had let William sit in the front seat of his car and pretend to drive. I just find it the most beautiful thing that not only did he remember (it was 3 weeks ago), but he managed to get him to do it again just from finding a set of keys.

Alas I didn't get a picture because it was 7am and as happy as my Dad and Will are to walk the streets in their PJs at that time, me not so much. But I will never forget it. It was William's first full conversation.

TWOsday! My two gingers

When Jamie posted that she was doing a link up, I of course wanted to take part. But twos? I don't have so many twos other than the obvious - arms, legs, eyes etc. I have one beautiful baby boy, one ever expanding bump due in March and one wonderful, wonderful (so much so it deserves to be said twice - there's a two!) fiance.

But there it is, right there. My bump is (literally) an ever growing part of our lives but doesn't quite feature yet. So I am left with two. Two! My two boys. My big boy and my little boy. My two gingers I like to call them, the big ginger and the little ginger. The two people that make both my head and my heart spin upside down and inside out and ultimately keep my world turning.

And of all the men in my life it's their hair that makes them stand out as much as their fiery (see what I did there) personalities. So here they are, my TWO perfect gingers.

The lonely life of a S A H M

I love being a Mum. But I don't love being a Stay At Home Mum. I know, shock horror! There are women desperate to have the opportunity to be a SAHM and here I am bitching about it. But I'm not, I'm just explaining it to you. Please don't be upset with me.

The days are long. It's lonely, And at times it's boring. And infuriating. And exhausting.

But it is the best thing for William. Within a week we have deaf playgroup one morning, an hour of speech and language therapy, an hour of sign language tuition and an hour with our Teacher of the Deaf. All on different days. So it doesn't leave a lot of time for me to work. Never mind trying to find child care that knows BSL and how to put hearing aids back in and spot them as they are coming out, not after when they are in a bush, a road, under a car etc. And I don't want his whole world to be about the fact he is deaf. I want him to see 'normal' children. I want him to go swimming. I want him to play in the park.

And so our decision is made. It's the right decision and one that I am happy with. But that doesn't mean that there aren't hard days, lonely days and boring days.

I recently read a post over at Chosen Chaos that made me swoon (yes swoon) with admiration. The post was about things going wrong but just the idea that Jamie would attempt to have all four kids by herself while her Husband is away (here with us drinking beer) makes me think she is a better woman than me.

Last time S went away with his friends for a long weekend I went and stayed with my parents. Because the time before that, by the time Sunday afternoon came around I was LIVID with him and for no real reason than I had been on my own for 3 days. THREE DAYS. I mean, pre baby I don't think I would have noticed he'd gone!

So this last time I thought I would go to my parents. I thought it would be easy. I thought I would get a rest, some naps, food cooked for me by my own Mummy. Alas, the very same Mummy broke her ankle a while back and so was somewhat physically impaired. My poor Dad had spent 2 weeks looking after her and cooking for them both (not his forte) and so was tired and stressed. So I spent the weekend (with a lot of help from my little sister) cooking everyone's dinner as well as entertaining and feeding Will. There was not a nap in sight and by the end of it I was exhausted. Much, much more exhausted than I would have been if I had stayed at home and solo parented. I thought I had made a mistake, that I had made life harder. But that Sunday evening, I could not have been happier to see Shaun. There was not one ounce of resentment or anger or bitterness that he had been away. All I felt was gratitude that he was home and that we were together again.

Because that's the key, for me anyway, to sanity. People. Friends. Family. Avoiding the beast that is loneliness. I can handle the exhaustion, boredom and frustration monsters but the big L is my downfall.

So who wants to go for a cup of tea?