Thursday, 22 December 2011

All aboard the worry train

Highlights of today
-          Vomit free
-          Managed to apply make-up and straighten hair
-          Crud free clothing
Result.
When I was pregnant I ate some muscles on holiday and didn’t remember until I’d finished that shellfish is one of those dodgy foods that I should be avoiding, let alone shellfish from a rustic restaurant in Greece, which these unfortunately were.  No sooner had I finished the jumbo plate of fish, salad, chips, bread, half of Anonoman’s lamb,  chocolate cake, hot chocolate, ice cream, complimentary biscuits and the rest emergency mars in my handbag... that I started to worry incessantly about the shellfish  and if I’d done something to harm the babies.  In hind sight perhaps I should have worried gestational diabetes.  After a few days of playing worse case scenario in my mind, I called my sister (mum of 2 girls) who had these no nonsense words of wisdom to share: “Welcome to motherhood, you’ll worry about everything”.  It has turned out to be true.
My worry of du jour is that Itchy isn’t developing well physically.  I have the luxury of having a direct comparison in her twin, Scratchy, who’s now standing aided and able to hold her own weight.  Itchy is nowhere near.  When trying to get her to stand she protests by bringing her legs up into a full lotus like she’d rather levitate.  She complains vehemently when put on her front and her bouncing is a sight to behold.  There they are in those bouncers hanging off the door frame, Scratchy resembling Tigger and Itchy just twirling around on her big toe staring at the floor.  She has progressed to a sort of bounce but I’m worried that she won’t be normal, which is an illogical thing to think as how many healthy adults do you know who didn’t learn to walk.  I know all babies are different, develop in different ways and at different rates but it doesn’t do much to contain my bubbling anxiety that there’s a serious problem that I’ve not noticed just lurking in the shadows.  Now that an appointment has been made to see a specialist soon, she’s typically demonstrated that she can do a lot of the things that I was worrying about and they’ll probably just tell me she’s stubborn or the puppeteer to baby S’s activities.  Or worse...it’s just her personality.
My sister is right, motherhood is one worry after another.  If it’s not worrying about their slow weight gain, then it’s whether they’re diet is balanced enough, or how am I going to disguise a child levitating to school.  I’m not a nervy person or an insecure mum but looking back I’ve worried the whole time, and I think a low level of constant anxiety is not only common among new mums but unavoidable.  I recon that’s why I can’t help but secretly compare them to other babies and why when you get a gaggle of new mums together the chat is all about what stage their child is at.  On the outside It looks like they suffer from competitive mum syndrome but underneath they’re just checking to see if their child registers “normal”, “gifted” or the dreaded “special” on the healthy bouncing baby scale.  I’ve established that Itchy is firmly in “special”...but that’s because the scale specifically mentions bouncing.  If it were the MENSA scale then she’d be “gifted” obviously.

Wednesday, 17 August 2011

Enough is enough

It’s been ages since I last blogged.  I’ve really wanted to but have had zero energy, a result of getting up 4-9 times a night with the twins.  It’s been pretty tough and I’ve been lurching between feelings of boredom, extreme tiredness, guilt and back again.

I think the accumulation of bad sleep has just got to me and I found myself up against a proverbial brick wall.  I’ve not been able to get up in the mornings.  Putting the girls in my bed and drifting in and out of consciousness whilst putting their dummies back in (dummy popping as my friend calls it) until mid morning.   I think they mostly slept too, but to be honest I don’t know.  I’ve regularly found myself sitting on the floor with them and having no energy or inclination to talk, let alone play with them.  It’s like I’ve given them everything and now there’s nothing left.   I do love them so much but I’ll be honest, I clock watch and count down the hours til 7pm when they go to bed.  Then the guilt comes and then I worry that I’ve not been stimulating them enough, and therefore compromising their development.  I realize I may sound slightly nuts but I’m an ex-Catholic and so haven’t shaken the whole guilt thing yet. 

Enough is enough.  I badly needed time to myself to feel refreshed and have more energy for them, so the reason I can happily type again is because today is their first day in Nursery.  Yeap, I’ve shipped them out for one day a week to get some much needed me time and I’m having a fab day, thanks for asking.  I did feel emotional when I dropped them off but it lasted for about 3 seconds and before I knew it I was skipping home with nothing but a hot cup of tea and an episode of Friends on my mind.  So far I’ve been shopping, had lunch, baked some bread, meditated and now am eating Brie and crackers whilst I happily tape away.

Another major change in our household is that last week I made the decision to let insomnia baby cry at night and get herself off to sleep.  Up until then I’d dummy popped (a great phrase created by a friend), so each time they’d cry I’d go in and give them their dummies.  So instead, I let her cry for 10 minutes before I’d go in and give her the dummy.  Although that 10 minutes felt like 2 hours, I’m pleased to announce it was a success.  By the third night she got herself back to sleep all night, and now I hear her once and only for about a minute.  In fact, she’s a better sleeper now than Scratchy, who often goes for 12 hours.  For the first time I felt like I actually knew what I was doing as a mum, it was due after 7 months.

7 MONTHS!  Un-freaking believable.  Obviously the babies are so much bigger and doing more, but I’ve changed so much.  I’ve finally accepted that my house will be filled with baby crap and have stopped tiding it away every night.  My mascara face is now my spoon feeding face – I can’t feed them without my mouth opening in sympathy. I cry at stupid things like Katy Perry’s “firework”.  Man, the second verse just gets to me every time.  I’ve noticed I spend a lot of time with my arse in the air, or on my knees…red rag to a bull if my husband had any energy…which thankfully he doesn’t.  I see new parents with tiny babies and understand they are completely wrapped up in their little creation….there’s no point talking baby with them…I’d get no stage time.  My once flexible body now needs time to unfold in the morning, my first trip to the toilet looks like I’m a recent double amputee who’s getting used to her wooden legs.  A new-mum friend of mine likens her trip to the kitchen and back in the morning as the pictures of evolution of man.  She may start like a bent over chimp, but is fully erect again in only a few minutes.  I’ve shaken the OCD sterilising obsession and now operate the three second rule for dropped dummies.  I used to change them when they dropped on the couch! (nutter), but now I’ll think about washing them if they drop on the floor in a public toilet.

I’m hoping this new time to myself will mean more enthusiasm, energy and blogs…watch this space.

Friday, 8 July 2011

Counting my blessings

It’s been a good week all in all.  Itchy no longer has to attend any out patients appointments, the girls are now giggling with each other and I’m currently making my way through a large bar of chocolate.  And it’s Friday night, which means no night feeds as husband steps in at the weekend.  I can go crazy and have a few glasses of wine...but I won’t as my bed is looking seductively at me (For sleep people!  I’m in serious energy replenishing mode and THAT is that last thing on my mind).
Saw my friend who has twins the same age as mine this week.  I do love meeting up with her as any little worries are usually dissolved after an hour or two of comparing our mini circus shows.  Do yours have green poo?  Yeap.  Have yours developed the crazy lizard tongue look?  Yeap.  Do you want to run away a lot?  Yeap?  Oh thank God I’m normal.  I remember when mine started teething at 3 months and I’d seen my friend after “the month when they just cried” (which it is now officially called) and was so relieved that her twins had started teething too.  Not that I’d wish crying babies on anyone, but it’s nice to know you’re not alone.  We had a lovely lunch (minus the demanding babies), a leisurely mooch round the shops (minus the demanding babies) and a relaxing ice-cream where my entrepreneurial friend tried to persuade Mr Ice-Cream Vendor Man to turn his skills to baby sitting while he had no customers.  You gotta love a twin mums ability to see babysitters all possible situations...and willingness to look past any lack of child care credentials.  I was almost parking up the tank (buggy) when his reply “Er no, you’re all right” killed the moment.
It’s such a relief that Itchy doesn’t have to be checked over by a paediatrician anymore.  Not just because it means she’s doing well but because I don’t have to remember to de-smeg her.  There I was frantically cutting her nails, clearing out her ears and wiping down her sticky hands 30 mins beforehand.  She needed a bath to be honest but I figured the doctor wasn’t going to sniff her.  And isn’t it annoying when doctors take off the nappy and then mention that “there’s a little bit of wee in there” so you feel as though you’ve got to change it even though it’s only been on 1 hour and nappies don’t grow on trees.  Almost as annoying when someone (usually a healthcare person) points out that your child’s clothes are a little bit wet where they’ve slobbered, and perhaps they should be changed.  It makes me want to say “Nah, it’s fine...the socks are still dry”.
My girls are 6 months next week and they’re definitely going into a much more active stage now.  Trying to roll over, giggling and babbling loads.  I having to separate them a little bit as they’re pulling each others hair and there’s been a few occasions where I’ve found Scratchy exploring Itchy's nostrils...or Itchy's foot in Scratchy's mouth.  Very funny for me, but not so for them.  Today they were looking at each other and just laughing for no reason.  It was my first glimpse into how lovely it’s going to be and how close they’ll become.  I remember when they smiled at each other for the first time and it was like I was witnessing something really special and I felt privileged just to be there.  I know twins is hard work (or hardcore as my friend rightly says) but I am really lucky.   Yes I spend most of my day either feeding/changing/playing/soothing/sterilising/yawning etc but there are just those little moments – like when I pick them up out of their car seats when they’re asleep and their legs stay in the foetal position for ages  - that I want to freeze and never forget.  Itchy is still not sleeping well and likes to have a very loud chat at 3am, and I just can’t be annoyed because it sounds so cute...and thankfully didn’t wake Scratchy.  Must keep reminding myself of these lovely moments because it’s too easy to slip into “poor me” or “why me” frame of mind.  All that said I’m still going to put them into nursery for a much needed day a week to myself.  Seeing a few places next week, not sure what I’m looking for but will report back!

Saturday, 2 July 2011

normality resumed

I’m happy to report that Itchy has started to sleep better and can go 8 hours again.  I can cancel my appointment with the local witch doctor, and breath a sigh of relief.  I worked out that the problem was the weaning.  I’d started to give them breakfast and dinner but it meant that Itchy was stuffed in the day so wouldn’t take as much milk…so had it through the night instead.  Found out by happy accident after a few consecutive days of forgetting their dinners on holiday.  Baby brain 1, attempt-at-organisation 0.  I’d been working on the premise that more food meant fuller bellies and so longer sleeps, but it went back to feeding every 4 hours, was exhausted, had a dirtier house and an extra 4 nappy changes a day.  So, much like moving yourself into your boyfriends house without him fully realising…I’m doing little bits at a time, taking it slow and not disturbing the routine. 

It is messy though and I’ve now got suspect food stains to accompany the glue-like milk formula rings on our furniture.  Because they’re not too happy with the high chairs yet I’ve been stupidly feeding them breakfast in our bed…on our crisp white linen.  Baby brain 1, attempt-at-organisation 0.  Cant quite understand how you get 3 spoons back to every 1 you give them, but as I’ve said before maths post-baby isn’t my strong point.  I’ve been giving them lots of fruit which I’ve pureed myself and they love it.  What a proud moment when the bowl gets finished.  I find that if I talk in my most upbeat happy voice (which even I find nauseating) then they assume it’s good stuff and woof it down.  I’m now introducing veg and they’re not having it.  Wish I’d have fed them veg first now…do’h.

I’m going to confess that I have been bathing our babies once a week.  Something I feel quite guilty about because out of everyone I’ve asked it’s the longest time between washes.  I’d like to play my twin card and say it’s much harder with two but to be honest it’s a palava and I want an easy life.  But what with the weaning and my sisters freakishly good attention to detail where my babies are concerned I concede they need more regular baths.  I was shamed the other day when she pulled a huge lump of ear wax out of Scratchy's ear…that and jealous that I didn’t get their first.  Another confession while we’re here is my biggest guilty pleasure is picking their noses.  Pre-baby I’d be disgusted with any mum fishing around in their baby’s noses, but I can’t help myself.  I even think twice when cutting my nails short cause I know I’ll be less effective.  You’re grossed out aren’t you?  Too much detail?

I know my sister doesn’t judge my parenting (or lack of cleaning) skills but I can’t seem to help feeling like I am generally being judged as a new mum.  And I don’t think I’m alone.  I went to the park with some close friends and their children the other day and one friend unprompted mentioned several times that she’d applied sunscreen to her daughter.  I first couldn’t see why she was mentioning it as it had nothing to do with the conversation, but then realised she was worried that she might be being judged…even by best fiends she’d know 20 plus years.  And I do the same.  For example I’ll be talking about how I let my girls cry but then have to caveat it with “but only for a minute or two”.  Where does that come from?  I’m ashamed to say I’ve done my fair share of judgement pre-baby (and therefore unfairly) and have heard people doing the same.  But what I’ve realised is a) mum’s know what’s best for their child, b) all children are different, c) therefore all parenting skills will be different.  I have been on the receiving end of someone I know very well judging me.  It makes me so mad even now that every time I think of it I puff up like a prized turkey. It makes me determined not to do it to anyone else.

Anyway, less of the serious stuff.  I find that I need to escape from the girls quite a lot now, and I’m considering putting them into nursery for half a day a week just so I can do some housework/sleep/chisel those formula ring stains off my furniture.  Generally have some time where I’m not responsible for them.  Who am I kidding?  I can’t pop to the shops without getting sweaty and uneasy that I’m not with them.  I practically sprint back to the car and get shaky and frustrated feeding the parking machine with coins that just keep being returned back to me.  It’s just like feeding my girls breakfast all over again.

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

Two steps forward one step back

The twins are now 5 months and up until 2 weeks ago I’d foolishly forgotten the n.o 1 rule of parenting… don’t get lulled into a false sense of security.  I thought that we’d cracked the old sleep routines.  Scratchy sleeps 12 hours (yes I know incredible but don’t be envious of me just yet as…) Itchy sleeps anywhere between 6-9 hours.  But 2 weeks ago Itchy went back to feeding every 4 hours, and has been crying loudly which then sometimes wakes Scratchy who then decides she wants food too.  I’m exhausted all over again, it’s like stepping back to the first month.  Sleep deprivation is the biggest challenge for me.  Everyone tells you but you don’t appreciate how hard it is until you’re there so tired that you’ve; missed doctor appointments/are half way down the street with your slippers on/ mistaking your toothpaste for deodorant (delete as appropriate).  I was so tired the other day I went to stand up whilst forgetting that I had a baby on my lap.  Thank God for reflexes. 

It reminded me of my first week as a mum of twins in hospital when both fed every 3 hours.   After expressing, I did the post-C-section shuffle to the communal kitchen and back, and had a full conversation with a midwife en route with my tits hanging out.  Bless her she didn't mention anything and is probably used to it. She asked me what day I was on and counting to 5 was the most difficult thing.  Babies are to mathematics what kryptonite is to Superman.  Around the same time the nurse suggested I managed my own pain relief.  She explained the dose was 2 pills in four hours, or 3 in 6 or something like that but I internally panicked and all I was hearing was the magic round-a-bout music in my head.  I think she detected a glazed look and just said "it's difficult to over dose on these but try not to do it on my watch". 
Counting the scoops of formula when making up a bottle in this state takes all my effort.  Woe betide the person who puts me off as I’m mentally saying to myself “one, one one, two two two, three three….oh ..was I on three or four.”  Damn you baby brain.  Shall I start again or risk constipation”?  All of the new mums bar none I’ve met tell me in great detail what their night was like, when they fed, put baby to bed, put themselves to bed, when they woke up and what they did.  On the outside it’s THE most boring conversation but I take an interest and hold out cause I know I’ll get the opportunity to describe my night in the same excruciating detail.  It’s sympathetic therapy.  And since you’ve asked, I’ll tell you about a recent night for me: put them to bed at 7pm, I’m asleep at 10:30pm, feed Baby B at 11:30pm, 3pm 7am and Baby S at 7:30am.  And if a bad nights sleep wasn’t enough then, for some reason, I depress myself further by counting how many hours I got in total.  To think pre-baby I found it difficult to cope on anything less than 10 hours.  Now 6 hours in a row is enough to run a marathon on.

Tiredness really doesn’t help with baby brain either.  I’ll be honest and tell you the pre-baby me thought baby brain was somehow related to intelligence and because I was a sharp successful career woman it wouldn’t effect me.  WRONG!  Here I am often unable to finish sentences because I’ve either forgotten what I’m talking about or I cannot for the life of me find the words I want to use.  It’s embarrassing.  As soon as I try to conduct a non-baby conversation a trap door appears in my brain and all the verbs just disappear.  In fact changing my blog name from Anonomum to Labotomum, might be more fitting.  Mother nature just laughs and rubs her hands with glee that another mum is under her mumsie spell.  Turn the topic to poo however and I could give a 3 hour seminar with visual aids and examples.  What I now realise is; baby brain happens because your baby is SO important to you that you soak in every detail and there physically isn’t enough space for anymore info.  And you don’t want to think of anything else. Between remembering their feeding & sleeping needs and remembering to remove my vomit stained cardigan before my shopping trip, something’s go to go….and there I am one of those mums smelling suspect in the nappy isle.  I don’t care…I’m too tired. 

I’m now trying anything to get Itchy to sleep better.  Putting them down later, big feeds, solids, more comfortable bedding, lavender, crystals.  Anyone got a magic solution besides ear plugs and a wet nurse?


PS: if you like my blog please recommend me to other friends.

Saturday, 4 June 2011

levels of tiredness

I had 3.5 hours sleep and I’m officially Dog Tired.  By my reckoning there are varying levels of sleep deprivation.  This is the Anonomum tiresness scale.  Where do you rank?
1 – Tired.  It’s what you used to feel in the evenings pre-children after a long/hard day shopping/working/socialising.  It’s where you yawn, stretch and retire to bed at the usual time.  You may even have enough energy to read, have sex, potter around the bedroom before falling asleep.  When you wake up you spring out of bed, skip to the shower, pick fresh flowers from the garden, cook your husband a full breakfast and start a new project like erecting a fence/doing the accounts/learning a new language. 
2 – Over Tired.  It’s where you definitely need to sleep, but something got in the way and you’re now extra tired and you have an edge.  You’re probably yawning a lot and rubbing your eyes.  Maybe you’ve a bit grumpy and think unkind thoughts about your husband.  You might even be snipping at him a bit, or fed up with the baby/ies constant feeding cycle.   But when you finally sleep and get up you’re refreshed enough to fuction.  You’re back to your happy self with the baby/ies.  You are willing to fix your partner toast, jam, orange juice and coffee.  You have a conversation about establishing a night time routine for the babies, and are hopeful about them sleep through soon.
3 – Dog Tired.  You ignore your alarm 3 times, you drag your arse out of bed, shuffle to the shower, put on yesterdays clothing covered in milk vomit because thinking of a new outfit is too hard.  You sling your partner one of your slices of toast across the room, and vow not to do anything for him ever again.  You spend a lot of time with your head in your hands and taking deep breaths before carrying on with the next chore…usually feeding or feeding related.  After a feed, you realise you’ve been staring at your baby for 10 minutes without actually winding it ...and that they are staring back at your like you're replaced their mum with a statue.  You’ve probably forgot to change your baby/ies at their feed.  You’re complaining continually that you need to sleep.  You stare at your turned off tv for 10 minutes before realising it’s not on.  You’ve probably had that argument with you partner about who’s had more sleep, and therefore who’s morally allowed a lay in.  You’ve probably laid down the law and made your partner do the next night feeds.  You’re bleeding down your chin from biting your lip all day about how f##cking annoying he is.
4 – Zombiefied.  You turn your alarm off and vow not to get up unless the baby/ies are proper screaming or the house is burning down.  At 1pm you sack off the shower and stay in your pj’s instead all day.  Who cares if you smell and look like Grot Bags dragged through a hedge backwards.  Brushing your hair or teeth hasn’t even crossed your mind.  You’re suddenly in the kitchen, you’re not sure how you got there or why you’ve put the cereal in the dishwasher, but you’re too tired to take it back out and press the start button.  You eat a yogurt, a lump of cheese, and a Wispa bar for breakfast.  Jermey Kyle is on repeat and you can’t be arsed to reach for the remote a few feet away, so you watch it…it helps make you feel better.  You’re pasty white and frighten yourself in the mirror.  You beg a family member to come round and give you a few hours of sleep.  You vow to start taking the advice you thought was stupid up until now of “sleeping when the babies do”.  You grunt at your partner and are too angry to talk to him…what ever is wrong in the world is his fault.
5 – Away with the Fairies.  You haven’t slept.  You don’t know if it’s day or night.  You forget you've just feed the baby and so feed it again. You drift in and out of reality.  You fantatsise about being sectioned just to get some sleep...and drugs.   When people talk to you you’re not sure if you’re dreaming, or if you should respond.  Did that object just move out of the corner of your eye?  You can’t respond quickly or succinctly in any way.  You'd adopt out your kids to your family if the paper work wasn't so energy consuming.  You absolutely cannot count to five to count the formula scoops for the baby's bottles, most of the powder goes over the floor anyway because your brain can no longer communicate with your body.  You look like you have motor neurone disease.  Food?  You think you’ve had breakfast, but really you’re remembering the breakfast from 2 days ago.  And if you do get hungry you’ll just eat that bit of crust off the carpet that got away from last nights gourmet dinner – jam sandwiches.  You regularly forget you’re a parent or that live with someone else.
6 - Only actual torture victims and mums of triplets or more know about this.

So come on then, where are you on the scale?  Or do you think I've missed one out?  Love to hear it.

Sunday, 22 May 2011

When do you resort to Calpol?

Weekend at the in-laws and staying away at the moment is definitely not a holiday!  The girls cry whenever we go anywhere new or if anyone comes to visit us, but the crying fit they have when we arrive is short lived.  I’ve noticed that I don’t get to say a proper hello for at lest 10 minutes until the stereo twin siren has died down.  I didn’t manage a meaningful conversation with the in-laws because I spend most of the day trying to keep the dog away from them.  She wants to play and the only way to stop her is to stand up all the time.  Itchy narrowly misses a sharp paw, and I have to control the lioness in me that wants to drop kick the dog into the garden.  

Husband takes them out with him in the afternoon and I get an hours kip.

After an hours crying fit from Itchy I want them both to go to sleep at 7pm.  Try and put them to bed but they won’t sleep in their new surroundings.  Spend an hour humming Scarborough Fair which usually does the trick but the loud noises from family fun downstairs means that it takes me and hour and a half to get them to sleep.  I’m angry and am telling them to shut up and go to sleep.  I’m not proud of this but there’s only so many crying fits I can hear before I get really narked off.  They are teething so I try teething gels, teething powders.  Itchy also gets colic so I try Infacol and Gripe water, as well as a myriad of different positions. She’s screaming hard and it’s difficult to know if she’s crying cause she’s over-tired and angry or because she’s in pain.  I should have put them in the car as it calms them instantly but it doesn’t occur to me.  It is a brilliant trick though and I wonder if I’ve got travellers all wrong.  They’re not tax dodgers just desperate families trying to get their children to sleep. 

So I’m left in that position where I want to resort to Calpol but am not sure if it’s appropriate.  Obviously drugging your child to get to sleep is high up there in the bad parenting guide, but then again she may be in pain…  I weigh up this dilemma for about 5 mins and decide to give it to her in the hope it’ll calm her, which it does.  I feel guilty and that I’m using the calpol for my benefit more than hers, but thank God for peace finally.  Eat cake, wine and thank the Capol God before having an early night.

Anon-o-mum

Friday, 20 May 2011

Worst visit ever

Besides being ridiculously tired, today’s been pretty good.  The babies only had 4 screaming fits between them and I managed to hide away in the kitchen for an hour while Anon-o-dad looked after them.  It’s a new silent game between us where you try and slope off and get some much needed baby free time.  Sometimes the person left with Scratchy and baby Itchy gets so sucked into answering their demands that they forget you’re not there.  You can get good half an hour sometimes.

The biggest news is; I heard both babes properly laugh today, which was so lovely that I pulled my best baby play material out of the hat to hear more.  Who’d have thought that pretending to eat them would be such a hit.  But in my enthusiasm for more, I exhausted them and they screamed with over-tiredness – accounting for 2 of the screaming fits (incidentally one was from throwing a large block of cheese in the shopping trolley and scaring the life out of B.  Damn you Cathedral City family pack).  The laughs weren’t those cute gurgles or hearty giggle I’ve heard in adverts and more like Blakey from On The Buses…but never the less adorable.  It’s just as well as the last 3 days have been horrible, I deserved some payback.  Both babies had their first illness (at just over 4 months old) and so have been miserable. Running nose, diarrhoea and generally feeling rotten.   Not only have they both had screaming fits for 4 hours at a time (even with calpol) but they’ve stopped sleeping through the night…torture of all torture.  It had been going so well with; Scratchy sleeping at least 12 hours and Itchy sleeping 8-12 hours in one go.  I just hope it’s a blip as I’m not sure I can go back to 3-4 hourly feeds with twins again.

The worst day was Tuesday when Anon-o-dad’s aunty visited for the first time since they were born.  She doesn’t have children herself and I’m pretty sure she’s celebrating her life choice after a visit at ours.  The visit only lasted 12-3pm but no word of a lie they screamed the entire time.  We tried to engage in conversation at the start but quite quickly it descended into sympathetic looks and awkward glances at her watch.  When she left (and hour earlier than planned) I said “you’re never coming back are you?” and could tell from the non-committal sympathetic laugh that it was true.  We’ll be cast off to one off Christmas visits….or worse just a Christmas cards.  I’ve noticed that we’re loosing one sort of friendships but gaining another since the babies were born.  Energetic, youthful child free friends are fast being replaced by early-night loving, blank staring parents…and it’s fine by me.  I can’t compete with people who have alcohol tolerance and have slept 8 hours anymore.  I drank 2 glasses on Wednesday and still have a headache.

Anon-o-mum: Intro to Anon-o-mum

Anon-o-mum: Intro to Anon-o-mum: "I became a new mum this year to twins and wanted to write a brutally honest (and funny) account of what it's really like to become a parent...."

Intro to Anon-o-mum

I became a new mum this year to twins and wanted to write a brutally honest (and funny) account of what it's really like to become a parent.  Tired of other mums either lying about their remarkably advanced children, or others scaring you with how hard it all is...my goal is to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth...and to make you laugh along the way.

If you're a mum yourself you'll probably relate to my experiences and if you're child-free and want to try before you buy...keep reading.  This may be a kick up the arse to get multiplying, or it may be the best contraception you'll ever have.

To make sure I'm not censoring myself I'm writing this completely anonymously.  I'm not even telling friends and family as they'll probably get a mention.

My two daughters are known as Itchy & Scratchy and my husband will be Anonodad....until I can think of something more appropriate and funny.

Enjoy.

Anon-o-mum