I do like my kids really!

So most of my posts so far have made me sound like I don't really like my kids. That is so not the case. I adore my children. They are my favourite people.

But, my children are the biggest frustration of my life. I am frustrated by my toddler's complete unwillingness to try and learn when I teach him, and I am completely infuriated when he then demonstrates that 'unlearned' knowledge at another and un-witnessed time.

I develop a migraine before we eat out with the stress of everything that can go wrong and resign myself to being 'that mum' in the restaurant that can't control her children, and then am blown away when they behave beautifully.

I don't have mum guilt. My husband and I were, apparently,  both absolute arse-hole children so why should we expect better? By all accounts ours actually are better. Our baby barely makes a peep unless she is hungry, my brother is actually convinced she is one of the animatronic babies from 'call the midwife' and our toddler although really fucking loud can be an absolute superstar.

That doesn't though stop the fact that sometimes he is the most frustrating little fucker I have ever come across. My love and devotion to him does not stop me wanting to drop kick him out our kitchen window. It merely stops me from actually doing it.

To me talking about being a parent is to actually acknowledge all parts of it. Without guilt. Without censorship. And without saying what I think others should think I should say. Being a parent is hard but it's fun and funny!

So I do bitch about my kids, I do joke about wanting to beat them with sticks or give them away (they would be given back pretty quickly) but then I put them to bed and have a glass of wine and miss them while they are sleeping!

Parenting is the biggest contradiction of them all!

For my maaayte!

So the time has come for us to find a new home. Our family is growing and it seems the house is shrinking. Onwards and upwards and all that.

When we first decided to buy a new house I was really excited. I naively assumed that we would be able to find a slightly bigger house somewhere in the village and life would continue as normal.

Nope! No such luck.

The village has become ridiculously expensive and since we don't have 3/4 million pounds tucked under the sofa cushions we have had to look elsewhere.

The excitement has now been marred by sadness and trepidation though and not for the reasons you might think. Leaving our first house makes me sad because it's a great house and I love it. Leaving the village makes me sad because I have built a life here and it's a lovely place to live. But the thing that makes me most sad, the thing I want to do the least, the thing that makes me not want to do it,  is having to leave my friend, my maayte.

I can't imagine what I would have done over the last 2 1/2 years without her. She has been my friend, my rock, my partner in crime. My maayte. I think I took it for granted that she would be there (or rather that I would be here) and we would be 100 yards from each other until we were older and grey less blonde and our kids were grown.

We have been great and terrible influences on each other, we bring each other up and down and she is a massive part of why I enjoyed (and am enjoying) my maternity leave so much. I think I am the best version of myself when I'm with her.

I knew we were made for each other from the moment we first met in a pregnancy pilates class. There was a room full of glamorous ladies, with beautiful bumps all glowing and smiling and just loving life. I was green with envy..and nausea due to the 'all fucking day and night sickness' and felt like crying when I thought I was alone in my misery.

Until...there was the best sound in the world. The groan of a fat fed up pregnant lady hating life on the other side of the room. I knew right then and there she was the gal for me! Thankfully she felt the same way. She was comforted by my lack of comfort and we both felt better knowing the other felt worse!

4 babies and 2 1/2 years later and it's all about to change. I will be moving across the city, I won't walk passed her house every day on my way to the pub playground or shops. Our children won't go to school together. I won't see her everyday. So I'm sad.

I realise that to some people reading this I come off as a weirdo stalker lady, and if I do that's ok, you would understand if you had her as your maayte too!

2 hours..it's not a lot but it's plenty!

I love my kids, that's a-given. And I love being a mum. Sometimes though I want to scream my fucking head off!

Sometimes as I read A Squash And A Squeeze for the 30th time in a day (which I do in an hilarious yet brilliant welsh accent which I have perfected) I consider stabbing myself in the eye with the nearest Schliech dinosaur or farm animal or kudu or whatever the fuck that is.

Sometimes the idea of watching Toy Story or bloody Kung Fu Panda makes me want to scratch the skin off my face!

Sometimes as I sing sleeping bloody bunnies for the millionth time in a row I feel like pouring my once boiling hot cup of tea over my head in exasperation.

I don't know why some parts of parenting make me want to harm myself in such alarming ways but it does.

2 hours. 2 hours though seems to be enough to curb the urge to try and self mutilate with a Duplo block.

Unfortunately 2 hours is hard to find with small 2 small children. They rarely nap together and if they do there is shit to be done. Washing needs doing, dishwasher needs loading, kitchen needs cleaning and by the time it's done the 2 hours is more likely to be 5 minutes and a cold cup of coffee.

But when I do get it, when the stars align, the kids magically sync their naps and the clothes, well, stay dirty, it is sodding bliss.

2 hours to do whatever, to do nothing. In the quiet. With no lovable animated character or book with pictures in it, no song that requires actions. It is amazing. It's like hitting reset on my nerves.

Bring on the books, the games the songs. Fuck it, bring on meal time!

Give me 2 hours and I can take on anything!

Should we just whip 'em out?

I am a breastfeeding mum. I do breastfeed in public. But, and it is a big but, I am torn on the coverage on the issue. I find it amazing that some people think it is unnatural (wtf?!) and I think Alyssa Milano is a great advocate for us mummies and has empowered many women to feed in public with more confidence.

I feel desperately sad for mums that feel too embarrassed to feed their baby in public, the mums that are confined to toilet cubicles and changing rooms. This is not on and shame on the arseholes that made them feel it was necessary!

I have been lucky (so far). I have not encountered any hostility or disapproval when I have breast fed either of my children in public but I have to admit I do often feel the need to wear a breast feeding bib thing..you know one of those colourful capes with the wire at the top so you can see the baby.

I don't wear it because of other people, I wear it because of me, because of my ginormous tits! I envy the mummies that are able to sit with their baby on the breast looking tidy and relaxed. I am not one of those mummies. My boobs are about the size of my 4 month old's head, and she has a big head! A friend once pointed out that There are many words to describe my boobs but 'discreet' is not one of them! They are big and imposing and have a mind of their own. Once the clip on the faded grey nursing bra is released they burst out of my clothing like the craken out of the sea!
Then there is the milk. Once it starts it is a kin to cracking open a fire hydrant, that shit is getting everywhere! I mean it. I'm soaked, the baby is drowning and I am dangerously close to having to pay for the dry cleaning of every other patron of which ever coffee shop I happen to be in. So I cover up.

Here is my but...

I was in a coffee shop the other day, (it is a 'breastfeeding centre' and everyone is welcome. Lovely.) and as I walked in I saw something that made me double take.

In the middle of the cafe there was an enormous pillow with an enormous boob flopped across it in all it's glory. On the corner of this great green velvet cushion was a baby, nibbling on the end of a nipple! I have to admit that even I, also a breastfeeding mum with gigantic tits, had to double take. I ordered my coffee and sat down with a friend and felt a little embarrassed as I passed.

I felt ashamed as I sat down that I had stared and more ashamed that it had made me feel uncomfortable. But... Here it is, my but... having put a lot of thought into it, it was unnecessary. The woman was exercising her right to breastfeed in public, yes, absolutely, more power to her. But... The way she was feeding didn't seem to be about her and her baby, it felt like it was about the rest of the world seeing it. She wasn't holding her baby, she wasn't even really feeding her baby and I'm not really sure what purpose the boudoir pillow was serving other than to draw more attention to it all.

I know, I know, who am I to judge, how dare I, I am setting the cause back years...these are all things I have reprimanded myself for already. But isn't she too? Is it not because of scenes that make a room full of other mothers shift in their chairs that make other people do it over the more discreet feeding?

Or .. Perhaps I am wrong, perhaps I too should be whipping them out with a little more gusto, dry cleaning bills be damned!

I am surprised with myself, and a little disappointed that this was an issue for me. My friend had the same reaction as did many other people in the cafe. I am sure this post is going to cause a lot of criticism. I have not written it to chastise or to shame any one, merely to illustrate a point. Until this particular trip to this particular cafe I I was 100% certain that I was 100% for breastfeeding in public and then I saw something that made me question myself.

I don't believe that women should feel the need to cover themselves or their babies while nursing and I will never think it is acceptable for women to feel they have to sit in a public toilet to do it but should there be a medium? Should we consider other people when we feed? I don't really believe so no. That would raise more questions..how much boob is too much boob? Should we put it away as soon as the baby comes off? How much nipple is too much nipple? If I had to ask myself these questions every time I fed my baby I would end up never leaving the house.

I  would like to think at some point breastfeeding in public won't need to be divisive, we won't feel the need to either make a statement or hide away, we will just get on with it and no one will notice.