mummy is always tired

When Does A Mummy Become A Mummy?

I’m not sure when I became a mum.  Not in the physical sense because that would be glaringly obvious, the 9 months of pregnancy and the eventual labour would be a clue.  I mean in the more cognitive sense.  The other day I was discussing my eldest with a work colleague; I was describing how she has developed into the world’s greatest dilly dallier when it comes to bed time.  “I am very hungry” is the usual tactic (she not ‘very hungry’ at all, but she is very good at procrastinating).  My usual response is: “go back to bed and if you’re still hungry in ten minutes come and get me”, she then toddles off and ten minutes later is snoring away.  My colleague chortled “that’s such a mum thing to say” which then got me thinking, when did I start being ‘such a mum?’

I used to spend my money on things I really liked – £165 Gucci sunglasses? Yes please.  £75 Whistles top? Only if you insist.  A quick drink after work, which would then turn in to several cocktails, shots and a good measure of wine followed by a  late night McDonalds at Waterloo station – oh go on then!  My pre child self would hardly recognise me now – Gucci sunglasses? How impractical, pass me my prescription sunnies please.  Whistles? They’re annoying ‘musical’ instruments aren’t they? Quick drink? No such thing anymore, firstly I have to drive to and from work – a 70 mile round trip every day and secondly, it’s been so long since I’ve indulged in cocktails, let alone shots that the mere sniff of the ol’ vino blanco can send me into an intoxicated stupor.

I think I used to be fun.  Fun for me now entails lying on the floor whilst my two children put stickers on my face.  At least this way I can have a lie down and not do anything except listen to them giggle away as one puts a sticker on my face while the other delightedly peels it off only to stick it somewhere else upon me.  Occasionally we indulge in some serious fun which usually involves my eldest sitting on my back whilst pretending I am a horse.

My mother always used to say “you’ll love gardening when you’re older” to which I would smugly snort at in disdain.  Now I have a vegetable garden and get excited about having a potting table.  Who’s smug now?   It’s scary to know that a lot of the things my mother used to say I now find myself repeating – “don’t jump on the sofa, sofas are for sitting not for jumping” – or  –“you have to brush your teeth otherwise they’ll fall out”  or how about  “I told you not to do that, it serves you right.”  With each passing month I find myself coming out with more ‘mummyisms.’  So, when did this all creep up on me? Probably from the moment I realised that I was not the centre of the universe, that fun could be something other than weekly shopping sprees at Selfridges and downing Caipirinhas (very tasty, can highly recommend).  Fun is now enjoying being a mum to My Wilful Eldest and ChubWubs and if becoming a living sticker book makes them happy, then so am I.

 

 

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In Celebration Of Her Roundness

Nicknames are a common feature in our house, some are kinder than others.  Our youngest has 2 popular nicknames.  The first is Birdy.  It remains a mystery exactly where this came from but I think it may have something to do with the fact that she was quite small when she was born.  Birdy was smaller than her big sister at birth, so much so that the midwife jokingly asked if I had taken up smoking, obviously I hadn’t but can you imagine that joke would have gone down like a lead balloon if I’d had.  The second nickname she has, is the one she is most predominantly called and if you ever get the pleasure of meeting her you will instantly see why – we call her (affectionately I must add) – ChubWubs.

So between being Birdy and then becoming ChubWubs something clearly happened, we’re not quite sure what.  Growth, obviously but mainly outwards and just a little bit upwards.  She has, like Otis our Labrador, got the most amazing capacity for food.  She will hungrily gather all food with both hands and try and stuff the contents into her mouth without shame, cramming each morsel into the pouches of her cheeks.  Before the mouthful has even been swallowed her little hands have gathered yet more delights.

ChubWubs is a delightful child, always (well, most of the time)smiling and happy to indulge us in cuddles and raspberry blowing.  Her tummy is particularly good for blowing raspberries, it has that lovely soft roundness that only a baby’s tummy has.  Her hands and arms look like they have been plugged in at a cute baby factory.  She does, actually look a bit like the Pillsbury Dough Boy but without the jaunty chef’s hat.  We’ve always regarded our youngest’s legs as the ultimate example of how she became ChubWubs, they are, well exceedingly chubby.  She has no bottom definition, its all just bottom, into thigh, into calves.  Her legs are two upside down triangles resting on what must be –ratio wise- two of the tiniest feet you will ever see on such gargantuan legs.  Her feet have always been a source of wonder for me.  It has always struck me a truly amazing that she ever learnt how to walk on such weeny feet, the fact they can carry what must be the equivalent of a 10 tonne truck on top of an egg really is quite remarkable.

Even now it still makes me laugh to watch ChubWubs walk.  She has that slightly wobbly gait that reminds me of an Ewok, lumbering from side to side; occasionally she likes to add some head bobbing into this, rather like a nodding dog so the whole effect is quite hilarious.  ChubWubs, without a doubt makes everyone smile, I’m not sure what nickname she might evolve into next but the ChubWubs stage will be the one I’ll treasure forever.

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