tattycrafts

It's that time of year again.  Halloween and Guy Fawkes is over (although the blasted fireworks keep going off),  and our thoughts turn to the next big thing in our social calendar CHRISTMAS! Don't get me wrong,  I love Christmas,  Always have done, but as the years go by I'm becoming increasingly disappointed with how materialistic it has become. This year we've spent a grand total of £30 on our little one, but the money is irrelevant. We've chosen small things which he will get so much enjoyment out of and more importantly we can play with together, and spend time together with, as a family. My memories of Christmas as a child were all about the family.  Spending time together,  playing laughing and caring for each other.  I can still remember the build up to Christmas, buying the tree together, decorating it and singing the Christmas Tree song.  Dad would  make his Rum Baba(?), and mum would be in charge in the kitchen cooking up a storm.  I can remember

As I sit here waiting on my little one to wake up it occurred to me just how many names he has.  Of course he has his birth name and we do use it,but we also have a lot of pet names for him, which he will respond to, and other ways of referring to him. Take this for example, when he wakes up from his nap, I can almost guarantee that I will say something along the lines of "Hello, gorgeous, did you enjoy your nap?"  When he sees his dad, he will probably call him"mate", as in, "Hello mate!" and start trying to play with him.  The way his dad and I refer to him is very different and is probably more about our language and communication styles. Then we have pet names.  I can't even tell you where they all came from, how they all started, but each and everyone of them makes me smile, especially when he recognises them as him. The first one was probably by my lovely mate who took his initials and called him Ogl.  Sometimes we vary it and he has Ogl Sp

Before I had Oscar, also known as BOD (Before Oscar Descended), I used to go to Slimming World. I was definitely on the chubby side but lost about a stone and a half.   It took me a LONG time to lose that small amount as boy do I like my food. As well as liking my food I have a very bad habit of eating when bored and hitting sugar when I'm a bit stressed or worried about things. Anyway,  the reason I lost weight initially was because I always worried that if I had a child I would struggle to keep up with him if I was overweight.  I wanted to make a huge change for the better. Once I discovered I was pregnant I was even more determined and monitored my weight while pregnant just to make sure I wasn't gaining more than I needed to. Then Oscar arrived, also known as LAD (Life After Delivery), and I had lovely new mummy friends. We never went too far, and get togethers invariably involved lunch out somewhere, and quite often cake. I got back into some really bad habits,  and

While undertaking a bit of housekeeping on my email account I stumbled across a draft blog entry I was working on in January!  January!  Have I been so busy that I never got it finished?  To be honest I don't even remember writing it which shows just how exhausted I've been. While I don't remember writing it, as I read it, I'm struck by how little has actually changed except I've learnt to cope with the exhaustion and I actually somehow fit in a full time job on top of everything else. " During the night, the baby who can't yet crawl out of his cotbed somehow ended up in my bed. Of course I must have carried him, yet I have no recollection. Hardly surprising given that after nearly ten months of feeding my baby every 2/3 hours day and night means I hardly sleep. I woke at 0603 to a wrigglebum, rudely awakened by a foot in my mouth swiftly followed by a baby on my chest and his fingers exploring my teeth.  As I open one eye I find my little monster b

Since the arrival of little legs, his dad and I frequently argue. We've never been ones for arguments and drama, but the arrival of little legs impacted in a way we never predicted. We probably argue every day, usually late evening after little legs has gone to bed.  It always starts the same way, "Make a cuppa." The debate is the same everytime. Who's the most tired? Who's the most stressed out? Who's had the least sleep? (I win that one) Who works the hardest? It goes on and on. Eventually one of us (me) gets up and just makes the tea. I obviously don't care enough who makes the damn tea otherwise I'd refuse, maybe I just like the drama :) It amuses me that while we disagree on lots of things we never really argue per se, but the making the tea argument is a regular!

I'm not a mum who uses an instruction manual.  Nothing against other mums who read books on what happens when,  and how to do such and such, and what baby 'should' be doing etc... I guess my philosophy is that babies do things when they're ready and you should just be there to support them and enable them to do things safely,  securely and in a loving environment. Oscar is almost 14 months and has increasingly been fighting me at nappy changes. Since he found his running away skills he practices them at every opportunity.  I can be regularly seen chasing a semi naked baby with a nappy in his hand around the house while he giggles like a loon. More recently he's been coming up to me and then squatting down. This has been followed by the well known Eau de Pooh. Since he's started communicating when he's doing this I decided to introduce the concept of a potty. Obviously I have no idea how anyone else does this, and it doesn't matter,  I'm working on

When I returned to work I was frequently asked how I was coping with someone else looking after Oscar.  I found this a little strange to be honest.  Before I returned to work we had researched our local childcare options,  visited establishments,  talked to staff,  looked at Ofsted reports and asked all the questions we could think of that mattered. We chose a nursery that felt like a home,  like a family and that I considered to be safe,  supportive and best for developing Oscar in the way that I would do if I had that luxury. So the answer to the question is that I have no worries about his care.  Am I happy with someone else looking after him?  Well that's a completely different question. I wish that I could afford to spend more time with him. I've already reduced my hours and condensed them across 4 days in order that I get a whole day in the middle of the week with him.  It's not enough though.  I want to be spending time with him when he's not tired,  when he

I've been back to work now since 26 January and it's had a massive impact on my life. In some ways the impact has been harder than the impact of Oscar entering our world. When I thought about returning to work I always knew it would mean I'd need to be organised but I thought I'd manage it quite well. Honestly? I've not managed it half as well as I hoped to. I had uhhmed and ahhed about how many hours a week I should work and decided to only lose 3 hours a week but manage to have every Wednesday off by working 0830-1730 on the other days. Sounds good right? Hmm this means I have to have little legs at nursery by 0810 at the latest. Some days he doesn't like to wake up before 0745, which means there's barely enough time to change his nappy and dress him, never mind give him a feed and breakfast and clean his teeth. Definitely no time to brush his hair. That's pointless anyway as short of washing it, I'll never get it to stay down. The reality

Today should be a lazy Sunday,  chilling out with my family, enjoying a visit from Nanny and cooking a scrumptious Sunday dinner and enjoying time with my baby. Today however is not that day Today I feel sad, I feel cross and I feel very, very crappy. Today I need to tackle the mountain of washing and actually hoover for the first time in a time that is too long to be respectable. Today I need to iron clothes and hang them up. Today I need to plan ahead mine and Oscar's outfits for tomorrow.  Today I need to prep my lunch and my evening meal for the next day. Today is the day before I return to work.

As I stop and think on how tough this week has been, I also realise just how lucky I am. This week I've barely left the house, I've physically spoken to very few people. There are a number of reasons for this, but the most stressful part has been a very grumpy, whingey, unsettled, hard to please 9 month old. I can honestly count on one hand how many days I have felt I wanted a do over since he came into our world.  But this week I have wanted bedtime to arrive within an hour of waking up every single day. Every single day. It's definitely been a shit week, with tiny moments of joy brought about from the wonderful humorous messages received from friends and the rare toothy grins and kisses from the wrigglebum. But, despite the shittiness (yes that is a real word), I'm incredibly lucky. He's 9 and a half months old and it's taken this long to have a week like this.  I don't know why he's been like this, and I never will, but it's wonderful to

I woke up on Monday morning with an honest to God freak out. In three weeks I return to work after nearly 11 months off work. Jeez Louise where has that time gone? I remember before I went on maternity leave I had ideas about what I would do during my time off and how when I returned to work I would be in such a great routine that everything would run seamlessly. Er.. No. Quite the opposite, I have a baby who hates naps, unless he sleeps on you and doesn't particularly like sleeping at night. I somehow manage to fit in (just about) mealtimes, and attending appts and play sessions. Housework? Don't be ridiculous,  my son is incredibly lucky, and I'm incredibly surprised that he has clean clothes to wear every day. There have been occasions where I realised I was dressing him in his last set of clean clothes and the panic washing and drying without a tumble dryer has begun. When I return to work in 2 and a half weeks I'm either going to fall apart or become super ef