Dearest Mummy,
I’ve noticed lately that you’ve changed. I’ve seen you trying to exert some sort of authority over me and almost believing that you’ve done it. Well… er… you so haven’t.
You might think I am not fully wise to your tricks but what do you think we talk about all day at pre-school? I was only regaling my crew with your predictable tactics the other day! It seems you need it spelling out…
I’m new at this game and i love it when i discover a new and exciting blog to follow. I first came across dustandlove.com when i read @adadcalledspen’s hilarious entry to his short story competition. You can read it here or enter yourself here…..although you only have a few hours left, soz.
Anyway i’m not a writer but i enjoy writing and it’s one of the reasons i started this blog. A reason to start writing regularly and competitions like this are a great way to brush up. So without further ado, here is my rather rushed and very amateurish entry…….
Payback
Her eyes flicked again to the red digits displayed on the alarm clock.
11.31am.
She should get rid of the clock. Stupid, bloody, bollocking insomnia.
She sighed ridiculously loudly but the heavy body next to her continued to sleep. How could you lie next to someone and feel so totally alone.
12.52am.
There was no point in sleeping now anyway. She’d be woken up in an hour or so by her daughter Rose. She had expected the sleep deprivation that came with being a parent but seriously this was getting ridiculous.
My second son turns 6 months old on Monday and he is breastfed. It feels weird to say that as i never imagined I would get to this point after a very different experience last time around.
When my first son F was born I had a terrible time trying to get feeding sorted. I was very keen to breastfeed but it was incredibly painful from the start, I had cracked and bleeding nipples that just wouldn’t heal. Unable to feed him directly we started on a exhausting cycle of pumping, bottle feeding and topping up with formula. When I had healed enough I tried to feed him myself but we just ended up back in the same boat. After two bouts of infectious mastitis and a miserable start to what should have been a very happy time I threw in the towel. I felt guilty but the sight of him happily drinking formula from a bottle meant i could finally relax. My boobs let out a sign of relief.
I’ve been wanting to start a blog for a while, for myself to keep a record of the early years of my boys life’s and (hopefully) for others to read and take comfort from my amateur mum mishaps. I admit like most of us i muddle though and make mistakes but it’s not made easy by the smug mum that every NCT or toddler group clique seems to have.
I came across the below signature the other day on a popular forum and to be honest it made me want to do a little bit of sick in my mouth.
xxxx xxxx 2010 – 7llb 5oz & xxxx xxxx 2012 – 7llb 1oz. Hypnobirthed, EBF, Cloth bummed, BLW and a bundles of smiles.