The value of Privacy

Privacy, it's one of those things you don't really think about until it's gone. Today, as I went to the bathroom with an audience, running commentary and uttering eight words I never in my wildest dreams thought I would say in the same sentence; "no pet, Mammy will wipe her own bum", I realised that my privacy is gone, and I miss it. I had often heard tell of inquisitive toddlers accompanying parents to the loo.  I never actually thought that they do it. And that they also question you, head cocked to one side, hands up asking "wee wee?? Pooh pooh?"

Today I remember fondly all the shampoo bottles I have read, all the lonely and unaccompanied wee wees I've had and look forward to going to work tomorrow, if only for a smidgen of privacy!

Only 8 Days till Christmas...

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree, your looking very Christmassy...

I can't believe there are only eight days till the big day.  This is all very exciting let me tell you.   Time has been shooting away from me.  It's been four days since I got weighed and I am only getting around to posting about it now! But before all that, let me fill you in on the last two weeks.

I had my Christmas party two weeks ago.  It was a grand night.  We had some crazy "entertainment" and booze galore for most of the night.  I walked the legs off myself and me and one of my besties ended up partying the night away in a London casino till the wee hours of the morning.  The result? I died a holy death. I mean, the worst hangover I have had in years and years.  It took me 40 minutes to complete a 15 minute walk from where I was staying to where I work. Sweet divine baby Jesus my flight home was horrific. I swear to God I had the little paper bag poised and ready.  When the plane hit turbulence I was instantly thrown back to that time I went on Space Mountain in Disney land Paris and wished I was dead... Some poor man sitting beside me was rubbing my arm reassuring me that it was only a bit of turbulence and all would be well.  I think he took the beads of sweat racing down my face in a marathon to see which one sploshed onto my lap first as a sign that I thought the plane was going down in flames. Thankfully, I managed to make it to solid ground and the privacy of a cubicle before I made a holy show of myself.  I got home, prayed that the baby would be easy for me, which she was, put her to bed at 6.30pm (this is her usual bed time, not the 'mammy has a hangover and can't be dealing with you' bed time) and I lay on the couch and begged for death. When death didn't take me, I rang for a Chinese and prayed it would stay down.  It must have been all my walking and what not because when I got weighed after that weekend I maintained. And when your in the throws of party season, you can't be sniffing at a maintenance.

On to this week.  Well I walked and stepped and lifted my way through the week like a mad woman.  I achieved 1,000,000 steps since 30th August 2015 and decided to achieve 2,000,000 steps by 6th March 2016 (that's 2 million in total, just so we are clear!)

This has given me a real boost to get moving and keep moving over the Christmas. What has also given me a boost is this little ensemble I wore to my father in law's 60th birthday bash 

I felt really great heading out on Saturday night. And I had a great night as a result of all my hard work. I did not feel so great on Sunday. Oh God, I thought the hangovers had left me. But they haven't.  I do not recover well anymore.  I had offered to do a big chicken curry for day two of my father in laws celebrations, and as I stood there, hungover to bejaysis, cutting up those chicken boobs, I genuinely thought I was going to pass out into the raw chicken and get food poisoning. I didn't, but it nearly happened.  I think I must have drank about 50 liters of water and I was still thirsty!!!  

All my hard work paid off, because when I got weighed on Monday, I was informed that I had lost 2.5lb! I'm delighted with myself! I am now 1lb off my stone and I want it on Monday.  I will go into the Christmas week with my stone in my hand. 

With Christmas week fast approaching us, my plan is in place on how to cope with the excess food and drinking. I  am allowing myslef three free days and the rest will be like any other day of the week.  And I have my challenge to continue with, 11,111 steps per day to achieve the goal of 1 million more steps in March. 

Weight Day; The Result

Weigh day has come and gone. I had a day off work yesterday and I decided that I was going to use that day to go to my class and get my hair done.  Getting my hair done was out of necessity rather than desire.  The other day someone told me that the balayage in my hair was lovely... I didn't want to tell them that what they were actually looking at was nearly five months worth of re-growth... I said thank you very much and, with a slight hint of red to my face, picked up the phone and made an appointment to get regain control of my mane! Once upon a time the thought of sitting in a hairdressers for two hours doing nothing would have filled me with dread.  I was never able to fully relax into the experience, I wanted it over and done with as quickly as possible.  These days, well, it's a completely different experience.  Two whole hours of not having to wipe a nose or change a bum.  Two whole hours of reading trashy mag after trashy mag, and they were all in date too so it wasn't months old news I was reading either! I got two cups of tea handed to me along with a couple of Roses, which I politely declined. Then the lady massaged the scalp off me. I was on the verge of making very inappropriate noises when it came to a sad end. Yes, post baby, hairdressers are my new favorite place!

My pampering was almost ruined by the scales... I was half a pound up yesterday morning.  Very disappointed in that because even though I didn't put in the effort with my exercise, I did put in the effort with my food.  But, thankfully, I had measured myself on Sunday night to compare my stats to what I was 12 weeks ago and I was very happy with what I saw.

The scales may not have  been kind to me, but at least the measuring tape was.  That's 9.5 inches lost all over my body in 12 weeks and I think that's not to be sniffed at.  I can feel it in my clothes and have already dropped a dress size. I am very happy I took these measurements because I think if I hadn't, that half pound would have resulted in me saying "Feck it, where's the selection box"?  

With only four weeks left of the year, I am going to give it all I have got to start 2016 at a minimum of one stone lighter than when I started 2015.  I will go into the new year with a much smaller challenge ahead of me.  I will not throw in the towel! 

The party season is upon me and my wee diary is already filling up with fun and frolicks. I love this time of year, catching up with people and getting dolled up and just the general happiness that seems to reign supreme for most.  So as I was scooting around the interweb looking for inspiration from some of my favorite bloggers such as the very talented Skinny Doll, I stumbled across a great post from another blog called 59 Pounds to Go.  This post had a great idea for planning the festive season that I am going to get on board with.

This is my plan for tackling the party season 

My goals for December are as follows: 

Loose 4lb 

Survive Christmas with a maximum of 2lb gain 

Exercise every day 

Do a minimum of 11,500 steps per day 

Drink at least 2.5l of water per day 

Track every day 

Happy 1st of December everyone!

Halloween horror

It's all hallows eve and I am horrified... not by ghosts and ghouls and scantily clad ladies, but by my total lack of "spirit" for the occasion...

Flicking through Facebook and looking at all the amazing efforts that kids and parents alike have gone to, it's made me realise that I need to up my game.

I did not dress my Dolly up today.  Nor did I dress up. Nor did I have the deceney to even open the door to trick or treaters. Instead, I left a bucket of sweets on the door step with a note saying don't knock, baby sleeping, help yourself. And it wasn't a lie. She was asleep since 630pm...

Next year I vow to get into the season that is Halloween and not sit on my couch drinking wine....

Facebook has shamed me...

Motherhood, what I was not prepared for

When I embarked on the roller coaster ride that is Motherhood, I knew that there were many things in my life that would change, and sacrifices would have to be made. I was prepared for the additional expense that comes with the Baba, things like the expensive baby digerie-doos that you are sure you need but never use in the end, the updating of wardrobes every 3 months, the toys that develop all sorts of wonderful cognitive and intelligent ways in your Baba.  I was prepared to give up on my impulsive social life. I accepted that my body was going to change and that I would probably never be able to do another jumping jack again without a little bit of wee coming out.

I also knew that sleep was going to be elusive and something that would come and go. I realised that the perfect night would change from dinner and dancing to just being able to sleep for 12 hours straight.  I anticipated many worried nights checking on breathing and looking after her if she was ill.  I even embraced the cris crossed stretch marks that scatter across my mummy tummy - to a degree.

But in all the books I read preparing me for motherhood, all the preparation I did, not once did I hear or read that I would have to say goodbye to ever seeing the bottom of my laundry basket, ever again.  I swear to God I don't think my washing machine has ever seen as much action as it has in the last 18 months.  It's constant.  Every time I get close to the bottom the clothes decide to mate and produce clothes babies and I am right back where I started.  It is MOUNTAINOUS! I have not once been able to get on top of it in the whole entire time I have been a mother.

So today I morn the loss of an empty laundry basket and embrace the constant and ever present view of my jam packed and overloaded clothes horses and pray every night that my washing machine doesn't just die on me from sheer overwork and under pay....

London Bound.... again

Yes! For the third time in as many weeks I am bound for London. The novelty of this travelling has well and truly worn off. Apart from hating the airport wait, my Dolly punishes me something cruel when I return to her. Last week, after three days away from her, myself and Himself went to pick her up from creche. In I walked, fully prepared for the onslaught of her aggressive brand of toddler love, only to be completely side stepped and ignored in favour of himself. The little rip wouldn't even come to me. It cut me deep!

The following morning, selflessly foregoing my Saturday lie on to spend some quality time with my Dolly, she had a stage three tantrum because I wasn't her bloody Daddy. So, in what was most definitely not a proud parenting moment, I resorted to bribery with food...

Then last night, while she was upset and needing comfort,  for the first time in her 18 months on this earth, she rejected my ample bosom - which is perfect for a little head to cuddle into, in favour of Himself 's hard and bosom - less man chest. Disgusted doesn't even cover it. I left them to it and had a little cry into my chamomile tea and crochet needle.

This working away malarkey is playing havoc with my position as my Dolly 's favourite person. It's not on at all. The only thing for it is to purchase her love and affection... I'll need a bigger suitcase coming home so that I can fit all the useless crap I'm gonna buy her to secure myself as top dog in her affection leagues.  Thankfully this is the last trip for a couple of weeks so I'm sure I'll have recovered well from the next round of rejection and punishment by then.  Anyone who thinks toddlers don't know what they are doing, needs to spend a of couple hours with mine to learn a thing or two! Lovely little rip that she is!!!

Weigh Day - The Result Week 9

Good Lord I don't know where the evening went yesterday, but it skidded by me at a thousand miles an hour and I never got around to posting! 

So I went back to my class last night after my week of MIA.  It took me until Thursday to get back into the swing of things and get working on some damage control after my Old School Boozy Weekend.  And thank God I did, because I stayed the same this week! Yay.  I really knew that if I had gone to class last Monday after my hectic weekend and gained, it would have thrown me right off.  Throughout the earlier part of the week I was full sure that I was starting to loose all focus, but a swift kick up the jacksie got me moving again.  

I have posted the above because sometimes I need to remind myself to be happy, and also, when I am happy, remind myself to tell my face, because it doesn't always receive the message!  Yesterday was spent basically preparing my family for me to leave them for three days, return for two days and leave them for a further three days.  Travelling back and forward to London is starting to take its toll on my patience.  I have gone from a stay at home Mama, to a part time working Mama to a Mama that seems to leave the country every two weeks, and I'm not loving it.  Sure, the uninterrupted sleeps are amazing.  And it is nice to be able to sit and eat a meal without fear of it being thrown all over me (well, fear of someone else throwing it all over me, I have a tendency to be a bit of a sloppy eater).  And there is a lot to be said for the comfort of going to the loo without "what's that" being shouted at my lady garden. The thing is, motherhood wasn't unexpectedly gifted to me.  It was a gift I went out looking for. It is a gift that I really really wanted, so fecking off for three days a week a couple of times a month is not giving me a chance to want to be away from that gift, ya know what I'm saying?  The novelty of no Dolly has well and truly worn off.  All of these thoughts made me very sad yesterday.  I actually felt like crying. I went to bed with a cup of tea and had a little pity party for myself. 

I got up this morning bright as a button though, full of positivity and ready for the week ahead and the challenges it will present.  I am prepared and have a plan in place for what's going to happen next week and I have my moving goals and weightloss goals set.  I am aiming for 2lb next week so I have got to get a wriggle on! 

Here's to a good week to everyone! Enjoy 

Birthday's, Benders and Babies

Let's start from the beginning...

After a couple of days in Lovely London, I came home to my wonderful Little Aussie and her Mum and Aunt visiting. So, being the hospitable person I am, I invited them all over for a bit of dinner and a sociable drinkie-pooh. And by sociable, I mean very sociable. I absolutely took advantage of Super Valu's 3 bottles of french wine for €25, in fact, not only did I take advantage of it, I abused the bejaysus out of it.  By all rights, I should have been curled up in the fetal position begging for a Priest to give me my last rights on Saturday morning, but I wasn't. I got up bright as a lark and  thirsty as desert dweller, but I made soup and porridge bread (which I must have made wrong cause it was rank) and I made a lovely dinner for that evening, to provide soakage for round 2.  Yes, you heard me correctly, round 2.  Before going out on Saturday evening I did a bit of shopping and bought a pair of jeans one size smaller than usual. I  didn't end up wearing them out though until round 3... For round 2, I slipped on a pair of mint green skinny jeans.  These jeans are super significant. The last time I wore these I wasn't even a married woman! Oh no. They were purchased for wearing the night before I became a wife. And not only did they zip, they fit! I felt amazing. And so happy with myself for all my hard work.

Here I am looking very pleased with myself!

And, not only was I in pre-wedding jeans, I was in pre-pregnancy shoes too!! I have loads of lovely shoes that do not fit since I got pregnant, but apparently I am getting skinny feet as well as cheek bones! 

I headed off out into the night with my girlies and I had an absolute ball for myself. I didn't rock in until 4am. I danced the feet and legs off myself, accumulating 5,888 steps between 12am and 4am - impressive footwork for sure! And once again, I fully expected to be pleading for death by firing squad when I woke up, but I was grand! Which was great, cause I had to get ready for round 3... And round three was a scream! Out for the Dubs, well, I won't say that I was out FOR the Dubs, cause anyone who knows me knows I could care less about football and all that business, but I was out because of the Dubs and had another kicking night. With no hangover! So apparently, turning 33 means no hangovers, hurray! 

Because of this PMA and bag of aura cleansing material I am carrying around with me these days, my three day bender did not leave me with a bad dose of the Fear and a mountain of negative thoughts! Instead, I took my crazy weekend for what it was, a once off blow out, I dusted myself down and fell asleep on the couch on Monday evening, like the Nana I truly am, before heading to bed at 8am to sleep soundly for a good 12 hour stretch. Refreshed and ready to make it to a weight watchers class Tuesday evening.

But alas, it was not too be! Because Tuesday was spent nursing a very very sick little baby. One that had lots of high temps and needed lots of cuddles and comfort and antibiotics and nurofen and water and just anything at all to relieve her pain and discomfort. My Dolly has tonsillitis again. The poor little divil spent all of Tuesday and Wednesday pretty much curled up on my lap. No more partying... instead it was preparing bags in case we had to go to the hospital with her and trying to get her temps under control.. See why high jinx and baba's don't mix!

Holly's Bed Time Bed Fellows 

Birthday's aren't the same as the were pre-baba days - not that my liver would agree with you after the weekend I had. It was such a stressful couple of days with my poor sick girl that I didn't really think too much about the day itself. Until I was given a birthday present to beat all birthday presents.  Himself was very good this year, really out did himself by giving me my very own designer baby that is to be kept very far away from the real baby...

The celebrations are over, my mojo is back, I'm moving again and tracking again and I am going to make up for lost time this week with loads of soups and low point meals. I am looking forward to my weigh day on Monday.

This is me at 6.30am this morning after sweating the face off myself for 40 mins! 

Operation Skinny Bitch is back in action after a brief hiatus! 

It's Friday at last!

It's been one heck of a week. Every goal I have achieved so far this week has  been hard won.  The urge to lie on my couch and eat a six pack of monster much, 3 bags of tangtastic jellies and an airport toblerone has been a difficult one to resist. A very difficult one. I have been tempted by the two McDonalds I drive past on my home. That's right, there's two. And there drive in's too. Drive in’s are feckin lethal for me. You see, in my head, anything I eat while in the car or driving is calorie free, because I don’t pay attention to what I’m actually eating and I can ‘forget’ that it happened just by throwing the wrappers in the bin outside the house. So yesterday, as I was approaching the danger zone I decided, feck it, I’m having a Big Mc Meal.  Then, for the first time ever, I decided that I would investigate just how much that big mc would cost me. 22 ProPoints for the meal. So I said no way. Then as I approached the next set of lights I thought, well sure I could take it out of my weeklies couldn’t it, feck it, I will. But, as I approached the turn to go away from the drive thru or head straight for it, I took the turn away from it. No, what if I want to have something really nice at the weekend, like Wine, or chocolate, or wine and chocolate. I’m not wasting points on that crap.

Danger zone 1 successfully averted.  But I still had one more danger zone to navigate. I knew that if I drove towards that second drive thru there would be no way I’d pass it, so I did something really bold, something that won’t jeopardise my weight, but may possibly jeopardise my clean licence… I took an illegal turn and scooted off up the road in the opposite way to the second danger zone towards the safety of my house! Yay me, although very bold for breaking the law. I would have explained the precarious position I was in to a Garda if I was stopped. I am full sure he would have understood that the severity of the situation.

So on we go to the weekend. I am not too worried about it because I have a nice relaxing time planned with my family.  We have only just settled down into the swing of things after me being away from London. My little Dolly decided that she would teach me a lesson for going away and leaving her for nearly a week by suddenly starting to walk all by herself and fed herself. In your face mam, she says, you leave me, I’ll just grow up too quickly on you!! It was a happy day when she started walking by herself on Monday. I nearly caused her to fall down with the screech of delight that I let when I turned around to find her following me up the hall!!

I have completed 35,846 steps of my 83,000 so I am well on my way to achieving my goal by Monday.  I am determined to achieve this weekly goal. I will not be beaten! I am back to feeling like I want to this, not just that I have to.  This weight loss journey business is a funny one.  No matter how much you would just like it to go from A-B in a straight line, it is generally a squiggley up and down and all over the place mess of road!! 

Have a good weekend all x

London Life

Greetings from Lovely London… I am currently living it up in a beautiful serviced apartment in the heart of London. It is amazing. It has a fully functioning kitchen, a shower that would strip the skin off your back, and the biggest bed with the most comfortable mattress, fluffiest pillows and cosiest blanket.  If you’re traveling, this is definitely the way to do it!

I have been concerned about how my eating habits my go while away. It’s so much easier to be at home and in my routine (and my comfort zone), but I know that this is a way of life for me now, I need to be able to adapt my food choices to my life. And I am trying very hard.  I made really good food choices yesterday, I had a bagel with smoked salmon and salad for my breakfast and I went out for dinner to a lovely Italian. I read the menu, I drooled over the pizza choices and the creamy cheesey gooey sauces, so much so that they had to put a “Caution, Wet Floor” sign beside my seat.  But, as tempted as I was by all that, I made good choices. I had an avocado and prawn salad, no dressing, for starter and Gnoochi with a tomato and basil sauce.  I had to fling the menu at the poor girl and order her away from my table before I changed my mind and said “Four cheese sauce, with extra cheese please”..

I can’t speak as highly of my willpower when it came to the bread and oil that was brought to my table. I ate that. I am not proud, but man it was so tasty. So I am happy to live with the shame…. The great thing about being in London is that you manage to get a lot of steps in without actually having to make a huge conscious effort to move. So yesterday I had managed to do a grand total of 14,534 steps without really trying… although tell my legs that cause they are killing me today!

After such a successful eating day yesterday, it’s given me the confidence to remain on track and not completely loose the plot while here. Smart choices! I’m starting with low pointed breakfasts (had fruit salad and granola bar (5pp)) and I’ll do the something similar for lunch so that I can be a bit more relaxed about dinner.

London is such a busy place. It’s one of my favourite places to visit, but I am really missing Himself and the Dolly. I had a facetime with them last night and my poor Dolly didn’t understand what was going on. She got so upset when I was saying goodbye to her. I think she’s wondering where the heck I’ve gone. Only two more nights to go! This jet setting lifestyle wouldn’t really be for me.

Keeping Her Lit... on a slow burner

Ah lads! It's finally got me. The Feckin head cold has taken a hold of me! I can't believe it. I've dodged throat and ear and chest infections like an immunity ninja for weeks! Himself has been struck down, my Dolly has had it twice and I've still avoided it. But last night before I went to bed I could feel the cotton wool expanding in my head,  my throat starting to burn and a tightness in my chest as I coughed up a lung like a seasoned smoker!!

I haven't the time or the inclination to be sick! I have steps to maintain, pounds to loose, weight to keep off!

Still managed to do over 10k steps today so that's not good.

All sympathy and virtual hugs and love gratefully accepted and appreciated! 

The POA for my PMA - Keeping Her Lit Week

As I previously mentioned, this is Throw in the Towel and get a Snickers Week, in my usual weight loss journey.  At this stage the last time I went back to weight watchers, I ran from the scales crying and snoting and in an awful negative place.  Granted, I was full of postpartum hormones and had only pushed a tiny human out of a tinier hole about 12 weeks before the crying and snotting and running and I had to quit.  My wonderful WW Leader reminded me last night of an email I sent her saying how trying to regain control of myself by being in weight watchers at that particular time was having an incredibly negative impact on me, and I would have to leave it for the time being. And leave it I did. I retreated into a happy lovely little bubble of myself, Himself and Herself. Sure I was delighted in my little life, still wearing my maternity jeans (because lets face it, they are just so comfortable!).

It makes me very sad reading back on some of those posts from that time.  I was very hard on myself, and if a new Mama came to me right now and said half of what I said to myself, I would give her a swift (but gentle, very gentle) kick in the backside and tell her to sit down and mind herself and her baby and have a little bit of what she fancied. Sure isn't she after growing a whole human all by herself. That's something to be incredibly proud of!

Anyway, I totally digress here! The purpose of this post is to discuss tactics!!! Tactics to protect my losses! I need to hire Fat Protectors who are going to guard me from my lost 4lb, in case they are a bit like homing pigeons and make their way back to me! I am heading to see my family in Donegal this weekend.  This means wine (yay!) and good company and happiness (more yay!).  So my plan is a simple one - sit in a corner and be a miserable moo for the weekend!

Ah not really! I am aiming for 81k steps this week.  And I have gotten off to a wonderful start! I was up at 6am this morning jumping around the sitting room for a bit of a HIT workout. Had to check what that meant when I first read it, it's High Intensity Training. Jesus I was a mess after it. Talk about making my fat cry (sweat). My goodness, I was sweating behind my ears after it! So while I was buckleaping around the sitting room, and my lovely family were snoring their heads off, I racked up at good 3k steps and it got me going for the day.  My whole mood lifted - I'm not a great morning person! I was bouncing around and I have kept it up all day with making sure I move for at least 10 minutes in every hour. This is what I've achieved so far today:

Pretty happy with that!

I am thinking that a mixture of aerobic and resistance training and keeping them steps up at around the 12k mark every day this week will ensure that I minimise the damage that could be caused at the weekend.

If anyone has any tips at all on making sure my weekend doesn't blow my whole week, please feel free to share!!!

I am looking forward to weigh day next week, when Week 4 officially gets renamed at Keeping Her Lit Week!!

All my tomorrow's are gone

I have finally run out of tomorrow's.  There are no more left. The time has arrived to grab the bull by the tubby horns and get my ass back to class!

Today I returned to weight watchers.

I finally ran out of excuses (just haven't the time/money/energy). I had been building myself up to going back the first week in August. I picked that date and decided I was sticking to it. But, me being me, also decided that every day between this and that would be my last supper of (insert unhealthy sugary fatty food here)...

I was getting out of control. Every meal was my last supper. At the rate I was going they would have had to call Dublin Zoo for a lend of their reinforced gigantic elephant weighing scales! Last Thursday, I am ashamed to say,  I ate 3 jam donuts. .. THREE! not all in one go, but definitely within a 12 hour period (am being very very generous with that time period here!)

Anyway! After a weekend of lovely food that I love, I decided that it was time to get back on the wagon before the bank holiday came and went and I was 100 stone and needed a forklift to get me out of my house.

So I am set. I have all my fruits and veggies and lunches for the next three days prepared and ready to go! Mason jar salads is what I've got going on this week! There's a spinach, goats cheese and parma ham salad with balsamic dressing,  a mango salsa with sweet chili prawns and noodles and a lovely tomato and basil orzo salad with parmesan cheese and spinach.

Big thanks to my wonderful leader Nicola who, as always, welcomed me back like a long lost friend and made me feel so good about making the decision to return to her fold!

Beautiful Handcrafted Family Trees

This is a totally random post, that I wouldn't normally do, but my wonderful cousin has started creating these beautiful family trees.  They are handcrafted family tree photo frames which can be personalised to your colour and interior decor.

If you are interested in having one of these beautiful creations made for your family, please visit Elaine's facebook page: 

Lainies Craft www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009420926756&fref=ts 

Something like this would be a beautiful present for new grandparents.

Mama and Papa Advice Required

Image courtesy of www.dreamstime.com 

 I have been getting baby development updates from a website and it has advised that if we haven't stopped giving our Dolly a bottle by 14 months, we really need to nip it in the bud sooner rather than later to protect her little pearly whites.  I have her down to two bottles a day. She has one in the mornings and one going to bed at night.  The bedtime one is my main concern. Usually we go through her bedtime routine and put her to bed where we give her a bottle in her bed and sing her songs or read her stories or just have a chat with her. Then once the bottle is finished she goes to sleep and we take it away (replacing it with a soother of course, but one addiction at a time please!) 

I realise the bottle of milk isn't good for her to be having before going to bed without brushing her teeth. We have tried giving her a bottle and then putting her to bed, but lets just say that went down like a pooh sandwich and we paid dearly for our error that night. And I am weak. I caved in the next night and didn't persevere! 

So the advice I am looking for is this. Should I start weaning her off the bottles? Is she too young to do that? Should I just leave her to her own devices and let her come off the bottle naturally? She doesn't use it during the day or walk around with it and is capable of drinking from water bottles, sippy cups and normal cups. All the stuff I have read seems to apply to babies who are using it as a crutch but I would really like to find out what other Mama's and Papa's have done! 

I am a guilt-ridden working Mama

I am half way through my third week back working.  It has been a quick two and half weeks and I am learning a lot.  It was time for me to go back to work.  I didn’t wake up on a Monday morning two and a half weeks ago filled with a sense of dread and impending Monday morning blues.  I bounced from my bed and waved a cheery bye bye to my family and then flounced off to the airport and jet-setted my way to London for the day.  I had umpteen cups of coffee uninterrupted, I had a whole magazine to read all to myself with no one to demand it from me, no one to listen out for or to keep one eye on.  Just me and my magazine and my coffee and for a split second, I felt like my pre-baby self.  I enjoyed my first day at work.  The only person that covered me in food that day was me, because I am, in nature, a messy eater!  

But as I waited for my flight back home, and got a moment to really think about what was going on in my little house in Dublin, I got a little bit sad.  The desire to see my little Dolly’s smiling face was over whelming!  We had a skype date, and she was only delighted to see me. Waving and blowing kisses, and I sat in the airport and it made me want to cry. Which was silly, because I have left her much longer than a couple of hours in a day and not felt that way!

From that moment on I have been torn in two.  On one hand, I am so happy being back at work. It is brilliant to be back in an office, having a structure to my day, having a weekend to look forward to again!  But on the other hand, I feel so guilty. I feel guilty that I am away from her.  I feel guilty that I am enjoying my time away from her.  I feel guilty that sometimes, when we have had a rough night of little sleep or painful teeth that I long for bed time.  I feel guilty that there are things I can’t do with her. That there are things that I am missing out on.

She stood up on her own for the first time on Monday.  She made her first independent stand, in a crèche, surrounded by wonderful girls that are genuinely delighted she did this.  But I wasn’t there.  I didn’t get to see her first attempt at this.  I missed it. And this is what its going to be like.  Big steps and little steps will be recounted to me by people that I pay to take care of her, while I am in work enjoying myself.  And this makes me feel so guilty.

I know that there are hundreds and thousands of parents that have children in childcare.  They are there by choice or necessity so I am not alone in the sadness of missing these things.  But since I started back to work, as much as I am enjoying it, I feel a lot of guilt a lot of the time.

On the other side of things, working has made me value the time I am with her.  Doing things with her, getting down and playing with her, bringing her to the park and the beach and just out on walks around the neighborhood are the top of the list of priorities now, not the laundry or the dinner or the cleanliness of the floors or any of that stuff that creeps in and distracts you. 

I am beginning to realise that guilt and worry come with the stretch marks and war stories… Wouldn’t it be grand if we could split ourselves in two? 

The thing about it is, and I’ve given this a lot of thought, even if I was in a position where I never had to worry about money and working was optional, I really think that I would choose working in some capacity.  And this hypothetical scenario makes me feel really really guilty. 

I have never looked forward to finishing work as much in my life as I look forward to the end of the working day now.  I get excited little butterflies flapping around my tummy.  The traffic is too slow for me.  The lights are too red.  Every day I go to collect her, I race in and scoop her up and smoother her with kisses and cuddles and love and try to put out of my head the guilt and just remember that I am doing the best I can do for her.

New start in an old place

Today marked the first day that I have worked in over a year and a half.  The time to leave my happy Mama bubble arrived, and with it brought a new opportunity to rejoin an old company that I loved to work for.  It was fate, destiny, sheer blessed luck that the opportunity arose at the same time that I had decided it was time to return to the working world.

I spent my final employment free weekend lounging about, enjoying my daughter, mildly hungover from a little bit too much prosseco and taking advantage of the much loved 'cat nap' that will no longer be available to me.  Do I have regrets about my  time off work?

Well, yes. I regret not maximising my cat napping potential, that's for sure.  It is with great sadness that I look back on all those wasted nap times... great sadness indeed. I wish I had have spent more time enjoying my daughter instead of cleaning... bahahaha, I can just hear my husbands incredulous scoffing ringing in my ears. Cleaning. I think I did heavy housework a grand total of about 6 times. Housework isn't my strong point. Clean bathrooms, clean kitchen, clean sheets, but don't pick up anything, move any furniture or look under anything either. You will most likely find tumbleweed and a family or two of spiders. I am a firm believer and regular promoter of the 'out of sight out of mind' cleaning policy. I do wish I had have done one of them toddler and parent things.  They would have been great. And even though I had over a year and a half to find one to participate, I never bothered. Mainly because they were always around Holly's nap time. Partly because I'm not great with new people. I like my old comfy well worn in people. New ones don't always fit so well.

What I don't regret are my mornings in bed watching my little one feeding herself. Imagining how picture perfect we must look, lying in my bed, lovingly looking at one another - until she has enough of the bottle and flings it at my head while trying to show me, rather aggressively, where my eye is. Ah, our morning eye pokes and attempted nasal amputations, I will miss them.

My Dolly is loving being in crèche. Thankfully, she has settled in so well and is a happy little monkey. Has even said the word crèche more than once. She's a genius, but I'm holding off on getting her tested because the other day I walked into the kitchen to find her sitting in front of her reflection on the fridge door with two fingers up her nose and her leaning forward to lick herself - that sort of dashed any notions I was starting to get!

My first day in my new old job was quiet successful. I flew to London - the wee jet setter that I am.  It's nothing as glamourous as you imagine the jet setting life to be, and frankly, I think I would hate it. But as a novelty, sure it was lovely sitting in the airport waiting on the flight this morning, reading a trashy mag and drinking tea while slowly removing my Mama hat, dusting the cobwebs and spiders of my worker hat and screwing that bad boy to me.  The novelty of travelling has already worn off, 12 hours since it began. Why? I am currently trapped in London City Airport breathing the same stale air since 5.30pm waiting on a flight that has been delayed till 8pm. And I moan about Dublin Bus???

Speaking of Dublin Bus, today I learned that it's not just the smellies on buses and trains that like to sit beside me and stink up my personal space. Oh no! No! They find me on aeroplanes too. I had a gentleman, and I am playing pretty fast and loose with the term gentleman here, sitting beside me and I am unsure as to whether there was a smell of pooh off him because he didn't change his underwear or because he had a big bowl of it for his breakfast and has never encountered a tooth brush and / or mouthwash. Either way, it made for a pretty rancid 90 minutes flight. I was gasping for some fresh air by the time I disembarked that particular flight.

On the plus side, London results in a lot of walking...my waste line could enjoy this travel!

And so ends my synopses of my first day back in taxable employment.  I have missed it. I have enjoyed it and I am glad that I am leaving my baby in very capable hands for something that I want to do.

Now, I think I might get myself a delayed flight glass of vino!

Bye bye Baby

It's been an emotional couple of days. I am officially no longer a Mama to a baby. I have graduated to Mama of a toddler.  I could hold off on labeling her that until she started to walk... but the time has come. Yes, my little Dolly has started taking her first tentative steps independently. She's getting so brave that she actually let go of my hand herself yesterday evening and wobbled off. I was overcome with the desire to cheer and sob uncontrollably, all at once. I went with cheering.

It's also been emotional because today marks her first official day in creche. I left her for two hours last week and the little rip didn't even flinch when I said goodbye to her. Had a great time for herself and didn't want to come home. She actually screeched and shook her head when I said "come on let's go". But this morning she broke my heart! As I was leaving her she started to cry. The only time she ever says Mama is when she's crying so her parting gift to me was a big fat wobbly lip and a howled and pained cry of MaaaaaMmmmmmaaaaaaaa.

I am currently sitting at the kitchen table fighting the urge to go check on her. The rational part of me knows that all that stopped within five minutes of my leaving.  The unrational side is planning on handing in my notice before I even get my start date and staying with her forever and ever amen... I am glad I am not prone to overreacting.

The third and final reason it's been emotional is that I have finally accepted that seeing as my baby is now a toddler, I can no longer be claiming to be still carrying baby weight. I must acknowledge that I am just carrying weight and putting the word baby in front of it doesn't make it cute! It is time.... as I sat on my couch on Saturday night rubbing the food baby that was growing in my tummy I realised there's only one thing for it.... surgery

Ah no,  that's a bit drastic... gonna head on back to my local weight watchers and give it all another good solid bash!

Pass me a Soap Box - I need a rant

This evening has been a feckin disaster with my favourite tiny human.  As you are aware from previous posts, sleeping has been troublesome, to say the least, in the last number of days but we appear to be moving out of that phase and into a new more acceptable stage.  Until this evening that is. Until the local feckin Mr. Whippy Van came booting his way around the estate, blaring his out of tune theme song from Yankee Doodle or something stupid and frightened the shite (literally) out of the poor child. She had been out for the count and this feckin fool woke her at 8.30pm.

Now, I have a number of questions here. If your stupid music is so loud that it can be heard through noise cancelling triple glaze windows, do you think maybe it's too loud?

Also, it's the 13th May. What child is out on the road at 8.30pm on the 13th of May?

Furthermore, who is going to fling their front door wide open at 8.30pm on a chilly Wednesday evening declaring "Iscream, youscream, we all scream for icecream" and purchase 99's for their sleeping or about to sleep children?

It took us nearly two hours to settle the poor love back to sleep. Two flippin hours. I tell you, I'll give Mr Whippy a good feckin whippin if he bursts into this estate tomorrow night...

*I am aware that I sound like a grumpy old biddy...

Toddlers... The Persistent Game Changers

Toddlers... For tiny humans, they sure can keep you on your toes. Every time I think I have this parenthood thing licked, my lovely little Dolly takes a look and her Mum and Dad and declares to her little toddler self "ha! Got the hang of me now have you? I'll show you!"and then bam! The game changes completely.

I didn't want to say anything, because the last time I verbalised it (or typed it) she up ended everything on me, but Holly had been sleeping from 7 to 7 for nearly two weeks straight.  Then, for another two weeks straight, she started to sleep 7 to 8! Oh my God. I couldn't believe my wonderful luck! It was amazing...

But as I have said many times "this too shall pass". And pass it has. For the last week she has decided that she will only sleep from 7.30pm until circa 9.30pm. She will proceed to scream the house down until she gets out of her room for ten minutes and given a top up of a bottle.  Then she will sleep till 11.30pm and scream and scream until she is in the bed beside me and her poor Dad is in the spare room. She has adopted his side of the bed, so much so that she pokes him in the face if he's in her spot. She will happily fall asleep beside until 6.30am have a bottle and go back to sleep at 7am until 10am.

Thus leading me to the conclusion that I do not, in fact, have this parenthood thing licked. The only thing I have licked is her feckin soother as I pick it up off the floor and "clean" the germs off it.

I liked to believe that it was I that had her under control, but I beginning to think that it is the other way around.  I also used to think I was the Queen of World and the Boss of Everything... But I now accepted that I have been ousted from my throne.