I am not a mummy

As you all should know by now, I am a mummy to two beautiful boys.  Gning was born in September 2011, and Donut in June 2015.  Both are my world – always have been, and always will be.

I always looked forward to the day that my first born could speak, and he would start calling me “mummy”, but that was never the case.

His first name for me was “mama”.  It then moved on to “mumma”, and I absolutely loved it.  It wasn’t going to be long before he could say “mummy”.

Gning was about 18 months old when we were in a hotel, at Schiphol (in the Netherlands) when it first happened.

Hubby, Gning and I had one room; and across the hall, my mum and dad had a room.  Gning kept pointing to the door, saying “nanna”; so I opened the door, and he toddled on through, and knocked on my parents door.  They let him in, and about 15 minutes later, my mum was knocking on our door with the baby…  I opened the door, and he practically jumped in to my arms.

“I don’t know what he’s trying to say.  He keeps saying “me me” and knocking on the door, pointing,” mum said.

I looked at hubby – neither of us had a clue what he was trying to say; but Gning kept hugging me, and saying “me me”.

It was towards the end of that week away when we realised what he was saying.

Hubby asked Gning, “where’s “me me”?”  Gning kept pointing to me…

Fast forward to when he was about three.  He was still referring to me as “me me”, although we had now adapted the spelling.  Well, it was actually Gning who confirmed the way we would spell it, as he had been learning how to write his name in nursery.

One day he came home from nursery with a card he had made for me.  Inside, it read:

“Mmymmy

love

Gning*”

*(real name was written – not Gning)

I asked him what the “mmymmy” said, and he replied, “me me”.

I think it’s funny, that people still ask “who’s me me?”  I am then able to relay the wonderful story that started in Holland.

It’s just stuck since then, and I love it.  I’ve never met anyone else who is a mummy, called “mmymmy”.  He knows that I am mum, and mummy, and he thinks he’s being cheeky now when he says “ok, mum”…

I have repetitively told him that it’s ok to call me mum or mummy, as I am all of those titles; and once he asked me if it’s ok for him to call me mum now.  I replied that of course it was, but he’s never changed it.

More recently, Donut has started saying “me me” and pointing to me…  It’s definitely stuck, and I just love it.

So, if you know us personally, and if you ever hear my boys say “me me”, they’re talking about their mummy.  Their mum.  Me(me).

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A Groovy Kind of Love – Phil Collins

Phil Collins, born 31 January, 1951 in London, England.  He started as a drummer for Genesis, and when Peter Gabriel left the band, he took lead vocals.

Let’s face it.  He can’t sing.  Well, he can, but he’s certainly not got the best voice.  However, ever since before I came in to this world, I was addicted to the sounds and voice of Genesis, and later, Phil Collins.

Their music was constantly playing whilst I was in my mothers’ womb, and right up until now, my dad still plays their music loudly.

If I had to pick just one song, that ever has existed, to be my favourite, it would have to be Phil Collins’ version of “Groovy Kind of Love”.  It literally gives me goosebumps, and more often than not, a tear to my eye, and I don’t even know why.

Here’s the lyrics – the video is below.

When I’m feeling blue, all I have to do
Is take a look at you, then I’m not so blue
When you’re close to me, I can feel your heart beat
I can hear you breathing near my ear
Wouldn’t you agree, baby you and me got a groovy kind of love

Anytime you want to you can turn me onto
Anything you want to, anytime at all
When I kiss your lips, ooh I start to shiver
Can’t control the quivering inside
Wouldn’t you agree, baby you and me got a groovy kind of love, oh

When I’m feeling blue, all I have to do
Is take a look at you, then I’m not so blue
When I’m in your arms, nothing seems to matter
My whole world could shatter, I don’t care
Wouldn’t you agree, baby you and me got a groovy kind of love
We got a groovy kind of love
We got a groovy kind of love, oh
We got a groovy kind of love

An open letter to the mother who has to go back to work

To the mother that has to go back to work.

You may have been absent from work for a long time, but you’ve certainly had your hands full.

You, yes you, have brought a child in to the world.  Granted, there was someone else to help you at the very beginning, but it was YOU who gave birth – or, if you’re like me, you’ve had your tummy sliced right open.  Just for them.

If you put the child to feed on your breast, you’ve had the cracked and painful nipples.  Sometimes you’ve had the teeth too…

If you fed the child on the bottle, you’ve spent endless hours washing and sterilising those pain in the arse bottles.  Not to mention the scooping of the powder, and the constant temperature checking.  It may be ok for you to drink cold tea, and slurp scalding tomato soup, but the baby’s milk has to be perfect.

You’ve been pee’d on and vomited on – almost daily.

You’ve been elbows deep, sometimes literally, in baby poo.

You’ve found baby poo in your hair…  An hour after you changed the last dirty nappy.  You don’t even know how it got there.

You know exactly when your washing machine will finish the load – because it seems to be on all of the time.

You’ve watched your child grow from a pure and innocent baby, who was so delicate, to a smiling, laughing, possibly crawling, and maybe even standing, ‘not quite a toddler’ child.

But alas, you have reached that time where you can no longer put it off.  You’re venturing in to worlds anew – even if you’ve been there before.

You’ve made the hard decision to leave your child behind and go back to work.  Afterall, you need the money, right?  You need your career, right?

But don’t think of it like that.  Think of it as a new beginning.

You are going to miss your child.  You are going to constantly wonder if you made the right choice to return to work.  You are going to cry every now and again…  Afterall…  You’re leaving behind that pure and innocent baby behind…

But you will be ok.  

It is ok to cry.

It is ok to miss your child.

It is ok to wonder if you made the right decision.

Just remember that at the end of your working day, you have those beautiful smiles to go home to.  Those cuddles, that you now take for granted, are going to be cherished even more.  Bedtimes may still be a struggle – especially if you have one of those children (like mine) who doesn’t like to go to bed – but you will love the effort you have to put in.

Why?

Because that’s your child, and even though you are away from them the whole day, you know they are there, waiting for you when you get home.

From a mother who’s been there before x

Dear soon-to-be Mum of two

Dear soon-to-be Mummy of two,

I don’t know you. But I feel like I do.

I used to be you.

And I was terrified.

I thought of you today. I don’t know your name, and I don’t know what you look like. But I still thought of you. I wondered if you were holding your breath as you waited for the home pregnancy test to deliver your fate, not sure if you should be thrilled or petrified. I wondered if you are finding it hard to chase after your toddler because you are so exhausted from the constant morning all-the-time sickness. I wondered if you were crying over your child’s bed tonight, trying to figure out why you ever thought it would be a good idea to “try again”. I wondered if you looked down at your swollen belly with guilt, thinking, “How could I POSSIBLY love you as much as I love my firstborn?” I wondered if you looked at your firstborn with guilt, thinking, “How could I have done this to you?”

I thought of you … because I WAS you.

And I wish I could give you a hug and tell you that it’s going to be OK.

Because it is.

I wish I could tell you that from the moment your second child enters your life, you will feel strong and confident, and that that feeling will never go away… But I can’t.

I also wish I could tell you it was going to be easy…  But I can’t.

Because it isn’t.

Tough times are ahead of you. You’ll have moments when you’re trying to feed a hungry baby and cajole a grumpy toddler onto the potty seat and you’ll wish you had three extra hands, a second brain (or even just a single not-so-sleep-deprived one), and a carton of ice cream that no one expects you to share. You’ll likely leave at least one restaurant in tears, vowing that you’ll never again take your children out in public. You’re going to spend a lot of time breaking up arguments (and/or perfecting the art of tuning them out). You’ll wonder if you’re going to be able to sleep again, or shower in peace again, or carry on a thoughtful conversation again. For a while, you’re going to be wiped out.

I can’t tell you it’s going to be easy.

But I can tell you this:

I can tell you that one day your younger child will be trying to tell you a story but will leave out a crucial detail. And that, confused, you’ll turn to your older child, who will be able to effortlessly bring you up to speed. And then your world will stop spinning in one breathless moment as you realize that those two…  They complete each other.

I can tell you what I wish I could tell myself. That breathless moment? It will come. And it will make it all worth it.

That’s what you need to know, Mummy. Today, you worry about what your pregnancy is taking away from your precious only child. You worry because you’re too sick to cook wholesome dinners. You worry because you’re too tired to go to the park. You worry because trips to the library are being replaced with Netflix binge sessions as you collapse, exhausted, on the couch. You worry and you worry and you worry, because that’s what we do as parents. We worry.

But today, worry a little less.

This season of life…  It’s just a season. And everything that you’re “taking away” from your child will be returned tenfold. One day you’ll wake up and find your kids playing together. You’ll walk into the room and they won’t even notice you’re there because they’re too busy having fun together. They’ll be giggling and building and discussing and making memories.

That won’t be every moment of the day. It probably won’t even be most moments of the day.

But these moments will come. And they will make it all worth it.

So hang in there, Mummy. Be brave. Worry a little less.

Because life is about to get so much better.

30 Day Writing Challenge – DAY 4

Write about someone who inspires you

My eldest son, Gning.

He’s may only be 3 years old, but he is the reason I have done any form of crafting over the past 4 years.

Everything I have ever done (craft wise) has been for, and because of him.  It all started when Gning was in my tummy, and I had just left for maternity leave.  I had thought I would try making fashion jewellery and accessories to sell for a little bit of “pocket money” for my upcoming bairn (baby).

It all started off well, but soon faded out as interest from potential customers was lost.

Happy Birthday Baby <3

Today is my sons’ third birthday.

Can someone please tell me where all the time has gone?

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Birth x

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1st birthday x

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2nd birthday x

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Almost 3 x

(Picture on his third birthday coming soon)

Day 17 – Literal Lyrics

Greetings Insanely Normal fans 😀

I struggled with finding a title for this post, but I chose one that I thought would best suit what I was trying to do.  Only I am going to do it with song lyrics.

First on my playlist is ‘Paparazzi’ by Lady Gaga

Lyrics:”I’m your biggest fan, I’ll follow you until you love me.  Papa-paparazzi…
“Reality:”I’m your biggest stalker, I’m going to follow you until you have to get a restraining order on me.”

Next on my list is the lovely Leona Lewis, with ‘Bleeding Love’.

Lyrics:

“My heart’s crippled by the vein that I keep on closing, you cut me open and I, keep bleeding…”

Reality:

  1. If you keep bleeding, you should really get that checked out because you might be suffering with Hemophilia.
  2. If you keep letting him cut you to begin with, then damn girl, you really should get out of that relationship!

Third on my list is this 80’s classic by Sinitta.  This is called ‘Toy Boy’

Lyrics:

“Everybody’s talking when they see me walking with this little boy of mine.  He’s my play thing and I love him.  I dress him up looking fine.  He ain’t got money, people think it’s funny, he gives me everything I need…  He’s my playboy and my love toy and I want everyone to know:  He’s my toy boy…”

Reality:

“I’m a paedophile!!!!”

Next..!  This is Sam and the Womp with ‘Bom Bom’

Lyrics:

“I have 16 pints of rum and then I go Bom Bom!”

Reality:

“I have to go to the hospital immediately to get my stomach pumped”

Lyrics:

“I’ve got a pie in my pocket, pie in my pocket, an eye in my socket.”

Reality:

Why on earth would you have a pie in your pocket?  Furthermore, if you didn’t have an eye in your socket, I would be a little worried.

Lyrics:

“Me got life, Me got style, Me got nothing on my mind.”

Reality:

You really need grammatical education…

I think I’m going to start keeping a notebook of literal lyrics that I hear, and I will keep adding to this post (in a sense, i.e. part 1, part 2, etc.).  I think I’ve started on something here…