No More Cot Prison

Increasingly we are becoming aware that we're living on borrowed time with Finley still sleeping in his baby cot. He's fast approaching the two and a half years old mark now and every noise, every creak we hear from upstairs whilst trying to eat our dinner, we convince ourselves that he's finally done it. He's finally figured out how to throw himself over the side and make a break for freedom. Any second he'll come bumping down the stairs on his 'bum-bum' asking for a biscuit or a drink or a story and that will be it. Game over. No more cot prison. The enjoyment of our evenings will be subject to his free will and our ability (or lack of) to discipline him. Luckily for us its not happened yet, but now I've put that in writing it probably will tonight of course...

There's Too Much Fucking Swearing On This Blog

Its fair to say that there's a lot of swearing on this blog. None of it is particularly offensive in an aggressive sense, its all intended as tongue in cheek humour but I cannot deny that the profanity word count is pretty high. I'd never really considered it until recently, I'm pretty free and liberal with how I write, in that I write how I like and if I like it then I keep it. I don't write for other people, I write for myself and I've found it very therapeutic, cathartic even. I just start tapping away and if a 'shit' or a 'fuck' contributes to the giggles or exasperates my tone I go with it. Particularly if you're writing about something that pisses you off, I've found a couple of 'bastards' and 'arseholes' really help get your point across. Of course I'm thrilled to bits to discover that people actually read my nonsense and even if it is just mostly my Mum (hi mum!), I've enjoyed that I've made people laugh and engaged with them on a certain topic or event in my life. I've had some cracking comments and direct messages, many full of obscenities and 'Fuck Yes!' moments. I've laughed my arse off at some of the feedback I had on that tit post, apparently it is a real issue affecting mothers globally - not just me!

Mothering The Shit Out Of Life

Towards the end of last year I got pretty bogged down with all the things I had to do, the things I did do and things that were never going to get done. My mind became increasingly cluttered and stressed and over burdened by the demands of work, housework, my son, my husband and everything else that goes with it. There was always hoovering to do, always emails to respond to, always a dinner to cook. I was becoming increasingly frustrated with myself and my inability to get everything done. Everyone elses houses are always tidy, why was ours never ever tidy? We're never even here for fucks sake. At one point I was actually getting up in the middle of the night to hang up washing so it would dry in time. I would voluntarily opt out on reading my son a bedtime story, so that I could get dinner started so we wouldn't be eating at 9 o'clock again. I was giving a little of myself to everything, meaning nothing got my full attention, nothing truly ever got done or finished and well, I was fucking failing at everything.

Is Anyone Else Being Constantly Punched In The Tit?

Bar two days I've been off work with Finley all over Christmas. Its been lovely, Christmas and all its shenanigans and then just having normal days with him. Taking him to soft play, getting his breakfast, buying a multi pack of Petits Filous because he was actually around long enough to eat them all. We spread his Christmas over our two families, as you already know his upbringing is pretty much a family affair and its been great to be with him and everyone important in our lives. Its been pretty chilled, slow paced, relaxing and well just lovely.
Until I recount all the injuries I have sustained ... Seriously in a ten day period I have been bruised, poked, pinched, slam dunked and quite frankly conquered by my two year old. On the whole its been unintentional, but it all still hurts like a mother fucker. First up, he apparently likes to pinch my fat. If my muffin top is a bulging, he's right there pinching and giggling. Thanks kid, like I need that non so subtle reminder.  He also likes to tickle people, which is really sweet and all good fun in theory. Except his tickles aren't tickles, they are prods and pokes. He gets all his fingers together, comes at you from across the room and shouts "iggle iggle! iggle iggle!". And you have to grin and bear it because you love him and stuff but it really does hurt like a bitch. He's also taken to slam dunking people, this situation arises when he wants you to be a horsey but you haven't figured that out in time. So he launches himself at your back, knees to the kidneys and arms tight around your neck. You either go down and submit or you choke to death in seconds.