General

Welcome Back

WELL HELLO!

Its been a while..and for that I apologise. LOTS has been happening with me over the past few months, and when ive just checked it was CHRISTMAS when I last posted. BLOODY HELL.

So I thought I would write a little post just to say HEY – I am still here and I am honestly going to try to be here a lot more – I miss writing my posts and chatting with you guys and hopefully you guys have missed my ramblings and foul language as well!

So what’s been happening over the past few months? Well we have MOVED HOUSE! Which – let me tell you – was very stressful especially when you throw in an UNBELIEVABLY stroppy toddler who, I think since he started walking, has jumped in age from nearly 2 to 15!! Honestly – the mood swings are on a different LEVEL!! there is knowing your own mind..and then there is William. Honestly – this kid knows what he wants and when he wants it.

To be honest, the moving day itself wasn’t all THAT stressful – it was the days before and the weeks afterwards. If anyone else is interested then I will happily do a blog post about moving house and the things we found during the transition and the things which are real and a bit shit really. Let me know your thoughts!

While we are on the subject of my toddler – he is honestly just that – a proper toddler. Actually no – not even a toddler anymore – he’s growing up into a proper little boy. A little boy who picks his nose and eats it, only wants to eat cocoa pops for 3 meals a day and falls over and has constant grazed knees from his adventures and running around playing and generally having fun. The messier and the more outdoorsy – the better. I know its awful to say this as it sounds to gender stereotypical but he honestly is such a little BOY – he loves being outside, playing with footballs, looking at cars and lorries, loves the fire engines zooming past him in the street and is just generally a joy to be around.

But if you follow me on my Instagram then you will have seen that we have been having lots of tantrums recently. I will do another blog post about that soon to explain what he’s been doing and how I have managed to cope with the hitting, nipping and kicking (SPOILER – WINE).

We’re also on holiday countdown, we go to Portugal in September and we are saving the pennies and trying to get the house and basically OUR LIVES sorted before we go so we can totally switch off and relax (if you can do that with a 2 year old – only time will tell I suppose..oh God..) but yeah – you get what I mean.

So that’s all that I have been up to really – the house move has taken the majority of my time and William is more and more demanding every day but I wouldn’t have it any other way! (Well I would probably want to be richer but hey).

So just a little post to throw myself out there back onto the radar – I am still here and all being well you will hopefully be seeing more of me more regularly!

Please let me know if there is anything specific you would like me to write about – you can contact me via my Instagram or Facebook pages or alternatively you can email me: staraa@gmail.com

It’s great to be back!

Tara x

Baby, Food, Friends, General, Parenting

Christmas 2017 – what I found.

Thought I’d just do a little post about what I found during the Christmas time with a 1 year old and a few things I learnt and will hopefully remember for next time! 
Christmas as we all know is a time for joy, and giving, and family, however we all know it can quickly escalate and things can get out of hand financially, mentally and emotionally. So here I have compiled a list of the things I have found and learnt over the festive period. 

  1. You will have to start planning and saving like..in the summer. Especially since having a child. Because sometimes you can get some really good bargains but also because everything is so bloody expensive. 
  2. Have a word with grand parents, friends, anyone who wants to buy the little ones gifts. Because you just KNOW that if you don’t, your child will end up with some all singing all dancing stuffed 8ft rhinoceros which you have nowhere to put and your child cries everytime they clap eyes on it. 
  3. Sometimes you have to put your foot down and just say no. Following on from the previous point, I completely understand that grandparents, aunties, Thelma from 5 doors down etc, want to spoilt your little bubba, however you can clash when it comes to presents. If you as their parents want to buy them x, y or z and they don’t like it because they bought it in the sale 2 weeks ago, but you’ve wanted to buy them it and bought it in July and have been soooo excited about giving it to them, then Sometimes, they just have to like it or lump it. You are always going to piss someone off. Might as well get it out of the way early. 
  4. YOU WILL ALWAYS PISS SOMEONE OFF. Whether it be hubby, mum, gran, mother in law (always me) etc etc. It’s a bit like your wedding day. You are never going to please everyone, whether it be presents, where you have your Turkey, who you have it with. Just do whatever makes you and your family happy.
  5. Don’t get too pissed. Self explanatory really.
  6. Be strict. At the end of the day, if people want to come round that’s cool, but if you had a plan and you want to stick to it, then make sure you Do! It’s your Christmas as much as everyone else’s, remember that.
  7. Eat loads. It’s a given really. If you haven’t put on at least a stone in December, have you even done Christmas properly? 
  8. Take some time to enjoy it. Sometimes we get too caught up with the decorations, the cooking, the present buying, the wrapping, the cards, the social gatherings, that we forget about what it’s actually all about – family and spending time with the ones you love. If you haven’t sent someone’s cousin twice removed from Dover a Christmas card, then don’t sweat it. You just might not get one next year from them. (HOWEVER WILL I LIVE.)
  9. Following on from the previous point, don’t worry about pleasing everyone. You will never do it. Just accept it, if people go in a piss with you then so be it. Pour another prosecco and worry about whether you remembered to take the giblets out of the turkeys arse. 
  10. Don’t get too caught up with what everyone else is doing on social media. INSTAGRAM IS NOT REAL LIFE. Real life is arguing about when the blue bin is going to get picked up because it’s overflowing with wrapping paper and cardboard boxes and empty bottles, what time you put the turkey in, did you know cousin Alice is now a vegan, have we got enough gravy, etc etc. It’s not all Jo Malone candles and unicorn prosecco. It’s what people want you to see. I guarantee that everyone is still having all the same tears and tantrums as you are on the big day. Besides, it’s not Christmas unless someone has an argument, right? 

These are just a few things, I could go on and on and on but you get my drift. Christmas a lot of the time gets consumed with the monetary value and the gestures and how big they are, and people forget what it’s actually all about. Saying that, of course you want to spend money on the ones you love, who doesn’t, but its hard not to sometimes feel inadequate or like your gifts are rubbish compared to what you see on Facebook or Instagram. Sometimes, the CD and bottle of Britney bitch perfume you got your mum looks a bit feeble next to someone who got their mum a weekend away at a spa in the Himalayan mountains where they only drink coconut water and eat vegan sushi. (Is that even a thing? I dunno.)  I can’t lie and say sometimes I didn’t  compare my Christmas and the lead up and the decorations etc to people’s I follow on Instagram. But then I remember it’s not real life. And we all go and take a shit, so we basically are all the same, coconut water or not.

Here’s some photographs of our Christmas day. As you can see, the joy is just pouring out of my son.

      Baby, General, Parenting

      THREE SIX FIVE

      Now I know that this is like…super bloody late but I thought I would write a little post about William turning one. (Baring in mind this was in October – we are now in January. Oh well).

      When William turned one I was SO SO SO emotional. I don’t want to sound like a clich√© and a broken record, but there is just something about the realisation that you have had this little thing with you for a whole year, you find yourself looking back at photographs of them when they were 4 days old, still all pink and wrinkly, and there are selfies of you both curled up in the newborn haze.

      Then you turn over your shoulder, and see that said gorgeous little cherub standing at your kitchen cupboards, having opened a pack of spaghetti and chives, and has snot running down its nose into his mouth, and has trapped his fingers in a drawer. And your house resembles a car boot sale. But honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

      The time goes by so quickly, when you think about it really. William has always been a little “slower” shall we say at developing, for instance he didn’t roll over until he was 7 months old, and a lot of my other friends babies were already crawling around by then. And he didn’t start crawling until he was 11 months old. He is now 15 months old and he isn’t walking yet. Am I bothered? No, not really. Everyone is different. Just like for example, I enjoy the gherkin in a Maccies. Norms does not. And so on and so forth. (Love a gherkin me).

      Anyway, back to the BIRTHDAY. I of course wanted to do something for his birthday so we decided on having a little party round at ours with family and friends invited, and we just put on some nibbles and drinks etc. Its hard not to get carried away really, you of course want to create this lovely birthday party for your little one, but in all honesty, do they really know what the fuck is going on? No. Not a clue. The party itself is really for the grown ups and the children who are a little older. William slept for most of his party anyway- the same as he did for his christening party and also Christmas. To be honest, you cant beat a good nap lets all be clear.

      And of course you always want to decorate and put some Insta-worthy snaps online and show everyone how much of an amazing hostess you can be and how much fun you all had. Which, to be honest, I’m not arty or decorative in the slightest, I have about as much creative flair as a brick. But I tried. And, to be honest, I was quite pleased with how cute things looked in our small little house.

      The thing which was giving me anxiety for weeks leading up to Williams birthday wasn’t the party. It was the idea of presents. Oh my god. What is it with grandparents and presents? People just go mad, and as I’ve said before I’ve always had a little bit of a struggle with my mother in law as she does get carried away, so I had to lay some ground rules down a couple of  months in advance, because I don’t want my house to look like the warehouse of Toys R Us, and also because he is still so small and he doesn’t have a clue what presents are, why he’s receiving them and to be quite honest, he’d rather play with a packet of baby wipes.

      Of course, my request was met with a sense of frostiness, I always seem to come across as the bad one, but I stuck to my guns and I’m glad I did, William got some lovely presents but people did thankfully listen and we weren’t too inundated with plastic beeping, squeaking, flashing up shite.

      So I thought I’d do a quick post on his birthday, as I realised I hadn’t done one, and add some photos as again I realised I hadn’t really put any of those up either! (Honestly baby brain is still in full force. I think this is just my brain now. Perhaps I pushed some out when I pushed William out..)

      The Garlands are from Hobbycraft, as is the holographic “Happy Birthday” sign. The Photograph bunting was from ebay, as were the plastic cone bags and the “Thank you” stickers. One thing which was a big factor for us was of course price. I did order some other lovely balloons but unfortunately they didn’t arrive in time so I went to Card factory (got to love that shop) and got some generic “1 today” balloons which did just as well as some ones with sparkly foil on. I hate balloons anyway (UGH) so to me it didn’t matter whether we had them or not. Everything was less than a fiver to buy, which meant I wasn’t spending loads on stuff that would only essentially get thrown in the bin. I work 19 hours a week and get paid pittance, so I am not about that spending money on frivolous shit kind of life.

      I also wanted a chalk board (how original I know) but I wanted to make one myself, because some of them are SO EXPENSIVE and then once the day is done, that’s it, without being awful, you are stuck with this board that you can never use again, and wont want to as it cost you nearly twenty quid in the first place! Now, granted, they look amazing and make for a lovely centrepiece on your table, but I wanted to be able to re-use the bloody thing, and also say to people”Yeah, I did that”. So, like I said earlier, I am NOT arty or creative, but I was pleased with the result, and I am looking forward to being able to do this every year, well until he is old enough to say “muuuuuummmm that’s so EMBARASSING – STOP IT!!” The chalk board was also from Hobbycraft and the pens were from a stationary shop just in my town centre – however they are fucking expensive!

      Thanks for reading! I promise I won’t leave it as long next time!

      x

      General

      Legs eleven. 

      So here we are. 2 weeks away from my baby boy turning ONE. 

      Where has the time gone? The weeks fly by, and before we know it, it will be the “C” word (no not that one, the other one. With reindeers etc).

      So, what has happened since I last caught up with you all? Well, William is now crawling, and has 2 teeth! His top 2! He is also pulling himself up on to every available surface/chair/person going, and can walk holding someone’s hand (albeit on his top toes, but he knows what to do, I think it’s just a case of him getting his balance and then he shall be off! Cue all the “ooh he’s going to be a dancer” comments. LOL original . ) I’m sure this is the part now where people say that it gets “interesting” and that you need eyes in the back of your head.

      Teething is interesting. By interesting I don’t mean interesting at all. It’s a NIGHTMARE. Oh how I envy these perfect mums who’s babies suddenly get 78 teeth overnight and they haven’t even noticed and can start having beef brisket sandwiches in French crusty baguettes. William has been absolute AGG CITY. Bless him, it must be awful. The first one that came was worse than the second one. I found his amber teething bracelet I bought when he was small, and decided to give it a go. If it didn’t work then hey, at least he looks super cute. But it seems to ACTUALLY work. Well, he certainly dribbles a lot less, and his cheeks aren’t as flushed when he wears it, and I didn’t even know he had cut the 2nd tooth until I saw it! So for me, it’s great. It was actually for his ankle but his ankle is too fat, but hey, aren’t we all. 

      He is also being a bit of a devil at the moment in the nights. He usually sleeps through from anywhere between 7.30-8.30pm until 6am(ish), however recently he’s been waking in the night, crying out, refusing to sleep unless he is being held, and also waking up RIDICULOUSLY EARLY. today we had a 4.45am wake up. THANKS SON.

      I have also been back at work 1 day a week for “keep in touch” (KIT) days. I am going to do another blog post about this next, but William has spent 2 Fridays with family, and last week was his first full day at nursery. Let’s just say I’m not looking forward to taking him this week. Nothing to do with the nursery, they were great. But I think William found it difficult.

      MUM GUILT STRIKES AGAIN. She’s a right fucker, that mum guilt. 

      In other news, we have still not got a buyer for our house. We’ve had a couple more viewings but to no avail.  It’s frustrating as we have a house ready to start moving in to, however we can’t do that until someone decides they want ours. It’s mega annoying but also at least we have the luxury of not having to worry about finding the perfect house, as we already have it. When things get moving (IF THEY EVER DO – COME ON PEOPLE OF HULL HELP A GAL OUT) I’ll do a proper post about it explaining it all and keep you all updated. 

      I mean, if any of you even care. Even if you don’t, I’m going to do one anyway. 

      We have also booked our first family holiday! So EXCITED. We have decided on Portugal, I have been once before with my bestie, but that was many moons ago. Before the responsibility etc, and the biggest decision was whether to drink vodka and coke or vodka and cranberry). We also decided against our usual haunt of Nissi Beach in Cyprus, which I am gutted about, as it is my absolute FAVOURITE place on earth, however with it being our first time on a plane and out of the country with the boy wonder, we decided on somewhere with a shirt flight time .  Portugal is 2.5 hours and Cyprus is 4.5 hours. We have a whole year to wait for this though. And I’m sure it will be woth the wait. We won’t have been on holiday for THREE YEARS. Again, how I envy those who get to go on holiday twice a year. Once would be nice. HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVE EY.  

      Maybe it will give us time to mentally prepare for the disasters and high level stress that more than likely will occur while we go on our jollys . And no doubt I’ll do a couple of blog posts detailing every lovely little one of them. But on the flip side there will be so many lovely memories that we will make together, and William will be that little bit older to fully appreciate the new things he’s going to experience.

      But, I mean come on, I took William to Manchester for my sister’s graduation for 2 nights and we didn’t sleep for one night (cried for pretty much 7 hours straight- me and the baby) and the next day he crawled off the bed and I nearly had to take him to A&E.

      I mean what’s the worst that could happen? 

      Thanks for reading, hopefully won’t be too long until next time- I’m planning on doing a little post for his birthday which did I mention is TWO WEEKS AWAY. I’m off to cry and eat peanut butter from a jar.

      Here’s a pic of the not so little guy just to make your eyes smile. 

      Baby, General, Parenting

      10 months..

      I haven’t written a post in a very long time.  I’ve just been LIVING. Lots of ups and downs as ever.

      It’s been a funny old time. William will be 10 months old in two days. TEN. MONTHS. 

      THAT’S 2 MONTHS AWAY FROM 12. Bloody hell. I just can’t believe where the time has gone to.

      So I just thought I’d do a little bit of an update post, I’ve had a few people ask me when I’m doing another post, and to be honest I have missed writing, but I’ve been finding it hard to find the time to even wipe my make up off at night, let alone write a hilarious yet honest blog post.

      I’m not going to lie, these past couple of months have been a bit testing. Me and norms are up and down, we bicker endlessly about the mundane boring stuff, why the bottles still smell like moudly cat milk, why the washing hasn’t been done, why is there a half eaten crumpet on the floor, etc etc. But then we have wonderful times and we make each other laugh all day and are affectionate and it melts all the crappy parts away. 

      William has been getting on great, he is eating more and more “human food” as I call it, we are still careful and cautious but I find myself becoming much more relaxed the more he eats and tries. I will admit though like, it’s hard when you see all these bloody women on Instagram whose babies are a little bit older or a little bit younger than yours, and they are having fish goujons and peas and sweet potato croquettes MADE FROM SCRATCH, or homemade chicken curry and oragnic vegetable rice, with a homemade bloody fruit crumble and all washed down with water which they will drink from ANY CUP – I look at the lumpy cow and gate jar I have in the bowl, and wrestle with Williams 7 millionth beaker I’ve tried to get him to even wet his fucking lips let alone drink any of the bastard stuff, and still feel disheartened. But then I think a lot of what is posted on Instagram is just a whole load of tosh.  I really do. I can’t believe for ONE BLOODY MINUTE that these people’s lives are as perfect as they want you to believe it is. So I just scroll on past, giving William his jarred food and water through an intravenous drip (I don’t do this – just to clarify. Please don’t ring social services.) Also, he is so so close to crawling! He can go backwards, turn himself fully around, and pull himself to wherever he wants to be, and he rolls around like a fish on a slab. It will be any day now. Then I’m sure the REAL fun will begin. 

      I think a lightbulb has gone off in my head. I used to be so consumed that my life wasn’t as perfect as other people’s. But at the end of the day, I spend all day with my son, at the weekend me and my husband are with our family and friends, and I don’t feel the need to promote it or share every detail on social media, because I am too busy LIVING AND ENJOYING the moments. I’m sure nobody wants to see a picture of me having a “lie in” until 8am, because norms has gone to give William his brekkie, or a photo of my hairy fat legs having a shower in peace with no baby whining because he’s not surgically attached to my hip/arm/leg/other body part. I do enough Instagram stories with no make up on looking haggard and like a bog rat that I do not need to put any more of that shit put there. Instagram stories are deleted after 24 hours THANK GOD.

      Another thing which has been consuming a lot of my time, is thinking about returning to work. I will be returning 1 day a week from September to do keep in touch days, and I can’t believe I return to work for 2 and a half days in October! I know I’m lucky as I am fully aware that some women have to return full time, I mean don’t get me wrong the money is definitely needed from a full time wage, but I (in my own opinion please don’t shoot me down) don’t see the point of having this baby, going through the slog of being pregnant and going through labour, having all this time off work to bond and spend with the little minion, to then go back to work 5 days a week. I mean, the thought of going back to work for 2.5 days a week fills me with dread, so I can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel to have to go back fill time. But everyone has their own rhymes and reasons for doing what they do. And that’s everyone’s own prerogative. I just don’t see the point of having a child and not being there to bring them up. Of course I also understand that some employers are not as happy to let people go back and cut their hours, but that’s something I thankfully haven’t had to deal with. (Sidenote- if anyone reading this DOES have these issues please go and follow the amazing Anna @mother_pukka on Instagram she’s ALL ABOUT THE flexible working for parents. And she is HILARIOUS). 

      So Yes, this has been keeping me awake at night. But I am slowly coming round to the idea. At the end of the day, it’s going to happen, my anxiety needs to get off my case and I need to pull up my big girls pants (yep still wearing the preggo hospital pants- what can I say comfort overruled the lacy thong) and go get on with it. 

      But I have Williams nursery all sorted, he will be going one day a week, and my mum and mother in law will be having him for the other days. I think this was a big factor about my anxiety. Me and my mother in law have had a rocky relationship since the little one was born. Well, it started when I was up the duff. I won’t go into details, all I will say is that we go about things in a VERY VERY different way, and it all came to a head when we went to check out the new nursery. Words were said, tears were shed. Eyebrows were raised. I think the saying “truth hurts” was the most useful turn of phrase for the chat we had. However, now all is out in the open, and things have been AMAZINGLY better. Anxiety is still there, don’t get me wrong, but I find myself being a lot more relaxed in her company, and feeling more relaxed about the thought of the little one going and spending such a lot of time with her. I am fully aware that to some people I must sound like a crazed lunatic but hey, variety is the spice of life, and my life is certainly not just vanilla. Although I DO love vanilla. 

      Another big thing going on is that we are currently selling our house. I’ll do a proper post when things start moving, but basically we have a house ready and waiting to be moved into (yay!) The only thing is, we obviously need to sell ours first. It’s been on the market for a month or so now, we are hoping to sell it sooner rather than later as we are itching to get things moving with the new one! I’ve been looking at so many house inspiration websites and pages, I’ve got a feeling we may need a cheeky lottery win to happen soon! It will be really nice to do a house up together, the house we are in at the moment was bought by norms when he was single, and it isn’t really decorated to my taste, don’t get me wrong it’s not horrible, it’s just not all that cosy. And I think as women as much as we like things to look all lovely and neat and tidy (mega lolz at this with a child – who am I kidding?!) We really just want it to be cosy and homely.  

      So that, in a nutshell is what I’ve been doing these past couple of months! I feel like I may do more posts like this, as I just can’t commit at the moment to doing a post every week or every couple of weeks, so maybe a monthly update post – unless there is something that has really got on my tits and I need to speak about it – but then you’d know about it im sure. 

      Thanks for reading

      T x

      General, Parenting, Personal

      Let’s Talk About (lack of) Sex, (with a) Baby

      Ok, so my husband will probably NOT be happy about this post, but I’ve always said I’ll be honest and this is real life and I’m sure as hell, in fact I’m 100% certain that I am NOT the only one going through a sex drought.

      And I’m not talking a dry spell. I’m talking about a full on desert, dry, open plain, hallucinating about a waterfall DROUGHT. 

      Sex evacuation. 

      I mean, I can’t even blame him. It’s me that is turned off. The fuse box has blown. Im clocked out. I am just not interested.

      Of course when you first have a baby, for medical reasons you can’t have sex for so many weeks, and you have this new baby who takes up all of your time and energy, and you are both sleep deprived, and getting an early night means just that…lights off and GOODNIGHT.  None of this hanky panky business. Bed is for sleeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

      But William is now 7 months (can we just take a minute to process that information…oh my god). And I can categorically count the amount of times we have…ahem..had relations…on one hand. 

      I find myself overthinking this. Am I normal? I bet everyone else is doing it. I bet my husband hates me. Maybe he doesn’t find me attractive anymore? Is there something wrong with me? I bet he’s going to leave me. I wonder if he’s going to look elsewhere? Why don’t I want to have sex???

      The truth is, from everyone I have spoken to, sex is generally the last thing on any of our mind’s. We as women are constantly thinking about the next time the baby will wake, how many bottles to sterilise, is his room too hot, oh shit I need to put a jar of food in his changing bag, did I take the dummy out from the car, did I sterilise said dummy before I plugged it in my baby’s mouth while I was in Aldi and he had a meltdown because he wasn’t allowed to suck the trolley, did I put that shitty nappy in the bin or is it still on the floor in the living room,  have I shaved my armpits this week?… And so on and so forth. 

      Of course I fancy my husband. I look at him all the time and feel very lucky to have someone who is actually attractive who likes me and wants to be naked with me. I love the bones of him. I love him so much it hurts sometimes. But the truth is, I have so many other things I could be doing, that getting in between the sheets for a quickie often takes a back seat.

      I think as well, because more often than not, I get up in the nights when William wakes, as Norms works driving trucks for a living and needs his sleep, when the opportunity knocks and its bed time, and William is sound asleep and we’ve had a lovely time together and the mood is just right…I am always so tired that I don’t think I would even get to the kissing stage without letting off a few snores. 

      I do feel bad for him. Let’s be honest, men think about and want sex more than women (usually). But he is very understanding and he really is a good egg. And from what I’ve heard from fellow mums and friends, this drought will hopefully end, and the rainy season will start all over again. It’s hard to remember the times when we used to just have a quick fumble whenever the mood took us. Or what we were like when we were trying to conceive. That’s the ironic part, you spend all this time and effort having all this amazing sex, and then that goes straight out the window when you get pregnant and have the baby. Poor blokes, it must be a shock to the system. They don’t know whether they are coming or going. (It’s deffo not the first one in this household).

      This post was really just a ramble, and also for any of you ladies who are possibly going through a sex evacuation like I am. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. We can get through this!!! I mean, we have been and are still going through a really massive culture, lifestyle, body, emotional and physical change in our lives. We need time for this all to calm the fuck down.

      Hopefully one day we will all laugh about this, while at an Ann Summers party looking at little skimpy outfits and dildos, and not be crying into a glass of pinot grigio with our fannies closed up and dry as sandpaper.

      Baby, Food, General, Parenting

      The Choke.

      Ok, so I said in my last blog post that I would write about weaning, and I will, but first I wanted to get this “experience” out the way, as it’s quite shit and it put a proper downer on things, brought out the old friend MUM GUILT again and I’ve found it quite hard to move on from, as it was really scary and I dread to think about what would of happened if circumstances were different within that split second. 

      So, as you may or may not know, my boy William is a hungry lad. We started putting baby rice in his milk from about 10 weeks old as he was just NOT FULL after having 9oz bottles. A lovely friend Emma gave me some fab advice as she has a similar hungry little boy and after speaking with her, and looking into it a bit I decided to give it a go. Shortly after this I started weaning slowly. When he was about 16 weeks, on my health visitors advice. 

      When I say weaning, I mean offering him a taste of a fruit of vegetable puree at tea time. I was adamant I was going to be this super-mum and puree all my own food and he was only going to have organic and it would be loads cheaper and he was not going to have jars of baby food, and all the rest of it blah blah blah. 

      Well, it all started off so well, I did a small variety of fruits and vegetables; mango, apple, pear, banana, sweet potato, butternut squash, that sort of thing. I spent one (long) afternoon doing it all and blending it all up in this blender hubby once got me for my Christmas present (don’t ask, you can imagine my reaction on Christmas morning when I open this present to see a Kenwood fucking blender there on my bed surrounded my soap and glory gift sets and frigging lindt chocolate reindeers), and had them all in little ice cube trays in the freezer ready for each day. 

      So, as time went on and William was enjoying more and more food, I thought I’d mix it up and do some broccoli puree for him. So I did the whole boiling to a pulp, making the house smell of fart and death (what is it with green vegetables they REEK) and froze them all ready. I used one the next day. I used to get excited to see what flavours he would Like, and also felt proud that he was having food I has made for him. 

      I sat him in his little Mamas and Papas bumbo seat thing and bless his heart he sat there patiently waiting for me to defrost this green slop in the microwave, and he had a couple of spoonfuls of it. He seemed to enjoy it! I was buzzing, I felt like superwoman as he had tried and liked all my homemade purees. I was at one with nature. I was at one with my child. I felt like Yoko Ono. 

      However. I think it must of been the 4th spoonful, he started to gag a little. I know that this is all part of the learning experience for them and they have to learn how to gag and bring up any food, so I let him cough and splutter a little bit, gave him a little pat on the back to help him alone and get it up. 

      But he didn’t manage to get it up. He coughed a little bit, and made gagging noises and actions, but nothing came up. Then he kind of…froze. it was literally the scariest moment of my life. He went really still, sort of leant forward in his seat, and his mouth was open. His eyes were staring, wide open, at nothing, and he wasn’t really blinking. There was no sound from him. He looked like he was struggling to breathe. 

      He was choking.

      Even writing this now makes me feel sick to my stomach .  Like..it literally makes my stomach churn. The memory is so strong. For that split second I didn’t have a fucking clue what to do. Then all of a sudden, I dunno, instinct I guess kicked in. I screamed “William!” Threw the little play tray off his seat, grabbed him and just kept saying his name over and over. He was really stiff, like he was tense. I put him upside down, my hand on his chest, near his neck, and quite literally, smacked his back like fuck. Like, so so hard. I think I did that three times and he finally coughed and started wretching and gagging, and some spit came out, and he started crying. I flipped him over and sat down, and had a look in his throat and mouth. There was nothing there. He was proper crying his eyes out, I must of really hurt him. But he was crying. He was safe. He was alive. 

      We sat on that chair and cried together for a good 10 minutes. I just kept hugging and kissing him, asking him if he was Ok (fuck knows why, I’ve just slapped the fuck out of him and he at the time was about 20 weeks old, it’s not like he could answer is it?!), I looked for the piece of broccoli that he had choked on but I couldn’t find it. It must of been so so small. Or, maybe the puree was still a little cold from being defrosted? And he was storing it in his mouth rather than swallowing the small spoons I was giving him? Who knows. I mean, I have always been very cautious with what I give and do give William. I’ve never loaded the spoon up with a shit load of puree, or left him unattended whilst weaning. And he seemed to be really enjoying the flavour and the taste, and I believed that the puree was smooth. Obviously for him at that time of weaning it wasn’t. 

      Afterwards I threw the bowl of puree in the bin, and I started to feel really shocked and shaky, I was shivering and was feeling so bad and guilty. I believed it was my fault William had choked on this broccoli. I rang hubby crying my eyes out, i felt so bad, how could I of done that to our baby? 

      The rest of that night went the same as usual, we had a play, I was a little (ok a lot) more cautious with William, when we had a bath I sat there staring at him crying, apologising for weaning him, apologising for hurting his back, apologising for being a rubbish mum. When he fell asleep in my arms that night I didn’t want to put him in his cot, I was petrified something would happen to him, what if he choked again while I was asleep? (Just for the record I have always had a phobia of this, as he was a very sicky new born baby and would often be sick in his sleep when he was laid flat, I used to sit up awake all night at first, just watching him sleep to make sure he didn’t choke on his own sick. I completely understand I sound like a lunatic. That’s just me, I worry and overthink every possible little detail or possible outcome. I’m always the one who says “yeah but what if…”) I think that night i maybe had about 1.5 hours sleep. Not just from the worry and watching the monitor endlessly all night. But also because every single time I closed my eyes all I could see was his little face , his eyes wide with fear, and it made me shudder and jump out of my skin. I still see it now sometimes. Thinking about it makes me feel cold. Writing this, it upsets me.

      Now some people (if anyone is still reading) may be thinking that I’m over exaggerating, or just think I should get over it, and yeah, you’re probably right. But I you can honestly say, it is exactly how I described it. Afterwards I didn’t give William any puree for I think it was 5 days. Norms had to sit with me when I finally plucked up the courage to do it, and i was literally sweating and shaking the whole way through. He even had to tell me to stop and calm down at one point because the spoon was shaking so much from me being frightened it was going to happen again, that I kept getting it all over Williams face. 

      I know now that it wasn’t my fault, and it was just one of those things. Babies have to learn, and in this instance he just didn’t have the knowledge and didn’t know what to do, or whether the puree was too cold or whatever, but the fact is, it happened. I have been very cautious (even more so than I already was), with what I give William, I analyse how lumpy or smooth something is, and I now don’t trust my own purees. So since this incident I have just weaned on shop bought baby food.  Because I honestly don’t trust what I have made for him. Which is silly really, because he was doing absolutely fine before and didn’t have a problem with any of the others I’d made for him. But the thought was in my head. I had mum guilt and self doubt. And one thing I have learnt since becoming a mum is, even if your not sure , you have to just suck it up and go for whatever decision you’ve made with pure confidence, and with this I had gone from being quite confident and enjoying weaning, to having zero confidence and not trusting myself, and dreading mealtimes.

      Another thing that it has made me think is that I would love to do a first aid course for babies/children. I am going to look it up for my area, as it just shows that you really don’t know what is going to happen, and I am one of those people who like to be prepared for every eventuality, no matter how good or bad (but of course you all known this as you’ve seen the endless amount of shite I carry about on the daily). So if anyone in the Hull area wants to come on a first aid course let me know! 

      Of course, William was fine the next day and was his usual happy self, as if nothing had ever happened. And he is loving trying all the new foods again, I am slowly building my confidence back up with the whole weaning thing. I do still over analyse every thing I give him and I sometimes panic the whole 45 minutes of a meal time, but I think as time goes on it will eventually all just be a distant awful memory. 

      As for being an earth mum and doing all my own purees, I have one thing to say about that. 

      FUCK. THAT. Let’s be honest. I don’t know who I thought I was, Mary fucking Berry, making all these purees, half the time it goes up his nose or on the wall. I might as well just buy the bloody stuff then when he doesn’t eat it for whatever reason, I can’t be offended. But fair play to those who do make all their own food, i take my hat off to you all!

      Besides, I don’t buy organic fucking sweet potatoes or bananas. I buy the cheapest. 

      I’m going straight to earth mum hell.