Get on your dancing shoes...or socks at least

So, as I'm sure you'll already know from my previous two posts about the doctors and his blood tests, my son is pretty freaking awesome.

What you won't already know is that he got his Mummy's moves. And for a deaf kid, it's quite an achievement to appreciate music at all, let alone with grooves like this.

And if you are wondering, yes I do dance and clean at the same time. And yes, I do it in my undies.

There are some things only a mother can teach you.

Milestones

Milestones are funny aren't they.

You turn 16, 18, 21, then wait for 30, 40, 50...

And somewhere in there you have kids and they are an hour, a day, a week, 2 weeks, 3 weeks, 4 weeks...5 months, 6 months, 7 months...a year.

Yesterday my baby was 18 months.

EV-ER-Y-ONE says it. "It goes so fast; they grow up so fast; you'll miss this stage when it's gone" etc etc.

And it's true. I do not know where the past year and a half have gone. I remember him turning 6 months like it was yesterday. Some days I'm certain it was. He seems so grown up, so capable. So smart. I watch him walking, running, laughing, signing. I remember him sleeping, breastfeeding, snuggling, crying. The change was instant. I do not remember him learning any of the things he does now, it just changed in a snap of my fingers.

But at the same time I have minimal recollection of our life without him. I don't remember not being a Mum. The past year and a half feel like the whole of my life. I have changed so much, been through so much. I have been pushed to limits I didn't know I had. Experienced emotions I didn't know existed. Felt the highest of highs and hit the lowest of lows. I feel like I have lived 10 years in this short 18 months.

I read yesterday that 18 months is often the point parents accept that their baby is no longer a baby but a little person. I have to admit I got a lump in my throat reading it, knowing how present that feeling is.

And I know that just as quickly we will be celebrating his 18th birthday and I will feel like today was yesterday but that I have lived for 100 years in those 18.

Kids mess with the time continuum. There is no denying it.

My favourite things

I have talked a little bit before about how I have always wanted to be a Mum and how, because of this I have always made sure to surround myself with children.

But I always knew that having my own children would be different, harder in some ways maybe but better is so many. And I was right.

For me it's the little things; when I am doing something and I realise that I am the Mum.

Putting on Wills shoes. There is something about having your child on your lap and labouring to get his socks and shoes on before he darts away to something more interesting that really melts my heart.

Hanging out his cute clothes. Not so much doing four loads of laundry a day, you understand, I'm not crazy. But hanging out the tiny socks and trousers and vests. Even now that they aren't teeny tiny baby clothes, I still find them massively cute.

Having crap in all of my bags (nappies, dummies, bits of food, odd socks). I love finding something random but child related (as long as it's not sticky), especially if I am not with Will. It's a lovely reminder that I am a Mum. His Mum.

My house being a tip. Sure, it drives me crazy and exhausts me but there is something that I love about tripping over toys, finding toys in my bed, under my duvet, the fact that every room in the house has a little reminder that a little person lives here. That we are a family.

Recently this happened

And as much as I was annoyed (at myself for leaving Will and pens unattended) and as much as attempting, and failing, to clean it off was frustrating, part of me felt a warm glow inside. Because it's funny. Because it was going to happen one day. Because it felt like a parental rite of passage. And because it was a reminder that I am a Mum. Not a very attentive one, clearly, but a Mum none the less.

And I love being a Mum.

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?

How to be a WOMAN

If you haven't read 'How to be a woman' by Caitlin Moran, then you should. She manages to perfectly articulate my feelings on motherhood as well as a number of other feminist issues. I have spent my whole time reading it going 'Ha ha, sooooo funny. But seriously. Nail. On. Head'.

Anyway, it has got me thinking a little deeper about the parts of being a woman I am uncomfortable with and I wanted to share them with you.

• This housewife business.

We recently got a cleaner. O M G the guilt I feel. We didn't have a cleaner when I was growing up. My Mum worked full time, raised two kids, did EVERYTHING for my Dad (we are talking 1920s style breakfast on table, packed lunch made, dinner ready upon homecoming) and still managed to keep our house immaculate. And NEVER complained. So when Shaun and I both worked full time and he wanted a cleaner I said 'No, my Mum never had a cleaner'. And when we had Will I said 'No, my Mum worked and never had a cleaner'. And then I fell pregnant again and was pretty sure no-one had ever, ever been as tired as I felt. So we got a cleaner. Once a week she comes and makes my house immaculate for me. Cleaner than it ever was when it was my job! And it has changed my world. I am on top of the laundry for the first time since Will came along. I have more time to play with him and I enjoy that time because I am not thinking about what I could be doing instead. I nap when he naps and so the fetus is feeling the benefit too.

But jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezzz I hate myself for it. My sister said 'do you really need a cleaner if you don't work?'. Now she doesn't have children so she doesn't understand how much work not working is. But I can't help but feel she has a point. I mean, I am at home all day. How can I possibly not have the time to clean?

• This marriage business

Now as you probably know from my smug post, Shaun and I are engaged. Betrothed. To be married. Why are you not married already? I hear you cry. Well, we wanted children. Marriage was just a box that people ticked; we didn't really see the point and we were keen to start trying for our family just in case it took a while. We were very lucky and it didn't so here we are with a 15 month old and a baby on the way.
Now, I always loved the idea of a wedding. Being the centre of attention. Wearing the beautiful dress. Having the stunning cake. Dancing the night away, high on pure love. But the marriage part of it I didn't get. A piece of paper (an expensive one at that). A religious ceremony (we don't believe in God). A commitment (we have A CHILD, if he isn't committed to me already then we are in trouble). Proving to other people or our children that we are committed (In the nicest possible way, I have NOTHING to prove to any of you).

But then I had Will. And I wanted the marriage part of it. And then we found out he was partially deaf. And I needed that extra something from Shaun. As any parent will tell you, the first few months of your first new born baby's life puts your relationship through the biggest challenges. I don't know if having a disabled child is any harder than a normal one but I can tell you that those first few months both brought Shaun and I together and pushed us apart in ways I didn't think possible. Then we lost our second pregnancy in a miscarriage. In the midst of the physical pain and the emotional anguish, all I could think was 'I want to get married, I need to know Shaun will love me through this'.

Now this annoys me. Because my rational head is screaming 'but there is NO POINT. You KNOW he loves you. You KNOW he wants to be together forever. You KNOW getting married won't change that' but my stupid emotional head is crying back 'But I waaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnt toooooooooooo'.

Also, a big old piece of beef I have with the marriage thing, is

• This proposal business

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my diamond ring. And I LOVE regaling the story of how Shaun proposed on the beach, sun shining, down on one knee, ra ra ra. What gets me is that it was HIS choice. Before we had children I asked him to marry me. I'm still not sure if I was serious or not, I just wanted to see what he would say. He said no, I want to propose. It was really important for him to propose and to do it right which I get but I don't get why? Why has he been made to feel (by society, culture, tradition...) that it is his role to ask me. He knows I wanted to get married, he knows I know he wants to get married. So why couldn't we just decide to get married? Why does he have the POWER? Why, as a woman, did I just have to wait? 

I have no answers, just more questions.

What do you think about it all? Are you comfortable with your role as a woman, whatever that may be?