2016 Alphabet

Andy Murray # 1

Brexit

Celebrity deaths

Donald Trump

Elections

Farage

Great British Bake Off

Hillary Clinton

Ice Bucket Challenge

Jo Cox

Kanye v Taylor

Leicester City

May, Theresa May

Netflix

Olympic medal record

Pokemon Go!

Queen 90

Refugees

Syria

Tim Peake

Unpredictability

Vote

Willcock, Patrick Willcock

Xenophobic US president 

Zika 

Boy oh Boy oh Boy - what's the big deal?

I am the mother of 3 boys. I am cursed. I lucked-out in the lottery of life, doomed by the definite prospect of years of wrestling, farts, grunts and chaos ahead. That is judging by reactions I receive wherever we go. This doesn't much bother me as its usually fairly well intentioned and mostly ignorant however it was when someone I know (with Jack, Jack and Jill) recently informed me that "it's just not the same having boys.... They get married and they just don't love you as much any more" that my hackles shot through the roof and it got me trawling through my foggy cerebral vacuum for what this meant and why it bothered me so much. I very shortly thereafter discovered the apparently well known phrase 'a daughter is yours for life, a son is your son until he takes a wife'. Meh. There are so many reasons I just can't tolerate these comments and this is why.....

Firstly, I flaming well LOVE being a mummy to boys.. Just as much I imagine as I would to girls. I have never had a preference to the gender of my babies and am jolly lucky with my lot in life. After 2 boys it was everyone's assumption that we would be desperately keen for a girl and whilst natural curiosity did veer us toward the pink at times,  we really were just delighted to welcome another human to the world and weren't fussed what colour it was. Is that so hard to believe? To recieve relentless pity makes me incredibly protective over my pure, innocent and seriously awesome Muskateers. What is so wrong with boys? They get bad wrap it vexes me.

Secondly, NO ONE CAN EVER PREDICT THE FUTURE. Brexit and Trumps triumph go some way to prove that. But seriously, my little boys have a wonderfully fulfilling and exciting life ahead of them, I hope. I aim to set them up for that but what I can't tell you (and none of us can) is what path they will lead. What struggles or excitement they might encounter threading their way through life's rich tapestry. HOLD THE PHONE... They might not marry, they might not marry a female ... Something about assuming/forecasting the future of a 3 year old seems ignorant to me. Just make it to adulthood, unscathed and happy please.

Thirdly, This is 2016 and for all its foibles we are in an era where the educated and decent people of our world accept and uphold the fact that the 'dividing' line between male and female is far less divisional than 5 let alone 50 years ago. Sure there are differences but they aren't polar and dissimilarity is often in character as much as anything else. Is it acceptable to think both girls and boys are awesome?

And lastly, I suppose this is also a note to my future self. Don't ever become that person desperately vying for your sons attention (against his work/loved ones/struggles/delights). You may have spawn the chap and had the task (grating though it was at times) of guiding him through this mad world we live in: you do not own him, you never did. You were just incredibly lucky to join him on his journey and watch with wonder as it unveiled.

Weeks 7/8/9 - lengthening and strengthening

Between now and 14-16 weeks can feel pretty tough. The initial magic and early hormones are wearing off, the relentless sleepless nights are grating and the haphazard routine is messing with any plans. Luckily the tiny human is becoming more engaging and resilient and fun. That boiled monkey uncurls into an actual mini human, butterfly style. 

Initial immunisations are never something to look forward to. I always get my boobs out to avoid the nurses windows shattering. The key with this milestone though is paracetamol. Strange as it feels to inject synthetic matter into the juveniles mouth at such an early stage, you'll soon get over it in the name of peace and quiet and calm. A dose every 4-6 hours will ensure that the live Meningitis vaccine does its work under a blanket of anaesthesia and everyone is less hot and bothered. 

These weeks bring babbles and cooing and smiles between the nappy explosions and sleep obsession. They bring SOME predictability and stability. Your baby is lengthening and strengthening, as it your patience. 

Crazy World

no words can cover this one

Flashback

And I wonder what compilation will define the Muskateers generation,  I am working on it now

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=HeEWtNaW6KE

Week 5/6 : Woo hoo and waaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

Theres a chance that the little mite will SMILE one of these days. An utterly awesome, momentous, satisfying, magic, delightful moment. Words simply can't do it justice. If not this week, it's very close. Of course, nature juxtaposes this beautiful occurrence with a growth spurt. A gritty, shitty, wild, confusing and exhausting day or two where anything remotely predictable or easy and calm about the bambino get tossed out the window with your distant social life. 

Bunker down, tough moments feel relentless but HONESTLY don't last long. Flap jacks, banana bread and salted caramel chocolate Florentines washed down with a classic English Breakfast brew or a hearty Malbec should go a long way to making the hours feel like minutes. 

Work work work

A Poem from my 2009 archive....

Possibly run by Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dee,

Britain blinked to find a shattered economy,

In whom do we trust and what’s it all for?

As; for pennies we scramble around of the floor,

Stuck in a rut with shrouded vision,

What do I need with multiple division?

It may pay the bills but smile I will not,

As each day I turn up like the other robots,

Drilled down to the ‘Toads’ that Larkin depicted,

The labours of work seem to have inflicted,

Inability to see beyond the routine,

Scared to step out and reach for what be the dream,

What be the dream, what be it indeed?

Far off and forgotten, too consumed in greed,

To bother to pick up the sullen head,

Plonked in the sand is easier instead,

But the bold and the beautiful, they’ll find their way,

By pushing the boundaries, unashamed to stray,

From the comfort and fear of their monotonous work,

To seek what more out there might lurk,

Economy, on you we should not excuse,

Our lack of assertiveness, that new pair of shoes,

Instead we should look within our very selves,

Before we’re choking in dust up on the shelves.