On Being a Parent: A Mothers Eye View.

Motherhood: Through My Eyes.

Fat Bum Mum and Baby Ro.

When I was around 14 or so I distinctly remember my Mum telling me that "labour is the easy part of being a mother." I didn't think this could be true because on all the TV programmes and movies I watched labour looked like a horror movie sequence. 

What with all the blood, bodily fluids and guts spilling out - not to mention the pain experienced. How could labour be the "easiest" part of parenthood?

As I've been a mother for nearly 9 months of my life (and more, if you include pregnancy) I can categorically state that labour seems to be the easiest part so far. Labour comes and goes. I know many people have complications and I am not trying to belittle that experience or say that labour is easy in any way - because it's not - but being a parent is a huge task.

If you think about it, it's a 24/7 on call thing. Because most mothers get on with things and make no real complaints, it looks effortless and easy to most. Then you sink yourself into it and it's hard.

There have been a lot of things I have tried my hand at and I can say that hands down being a Mum is the hardest. But all the cliches are true. It is also the most rewarding thing.

It will shrink your wallet and expand your waistline (see above photos for proof.) Make your hair fall out and turn grey. But if you let it, it will never shake your confidence or undermine your strength or self worth.

And I would always advise to never walk the road alone without the help of someone like this:

We all know the phrase of "no one is perfect" and again, it's a cliche, but it's true. This is the man who had never changed a nappy, never had a sleepless night due to a crying child, had never fed a baby a bottle or a meal and I just knew he was in for a shock. 

I waited and waited for shock to kick in, but it still hasn't. I don't know how he copes half the time as I'm struggling to keep up with it all myself. It's over whelming at the best of times in so many ways.

Bad Days.

Good Days.

And the "getting dressed in the dark days."

I would do all of these days over and over again and the best part is that I know I will. And I will look back with a smile on my face, even if I felt like dying on one of those horrible days.

The Eight Month Old.

Eight Month Old Reflections...

Lately there has been a cheeky addition to our family's dynamic. Well, I say "lately" when really what I mean is eight months ago, it was just waiting to come out and be known.

It comes in the form of my eight month old son, Roman. Those of you who know me - who seem to make up the readership of this blog - will know Roman either through pictures or in the flesh (chubby goodness mmm). 

And very recently this boy has chunked up (I'm merely stating this in a playfully cute manner and by no means wish to cause him future body issues) and got mobile.

And oh man has he been giving us the run around. He won't even sit still for feeds. I'm so convinced of Ants in Pants syndrome that I think he must boogie in his sleep.

I remember (ever so faintly) that little 10 pound, one and a half ounce newborn who wouldn't take to his rather simple and baby friendly musical toys but would boogie and bop his head side to side to the music of our parent's generation. Queen, Big Country et al. I remember that looooooonnng trip to Thurso for the first time with a four month old who got fed up quickly of sitting in his seat - although I don't blame him, it was a very, very, very long trip indeed. And if we go back even further to say, a year ago, I remember that little boy who we thought was a girl (sorry dude!) bouncing around inside me, like it was a non-stop party.

It's just so strange to go from the little parcel of sleepiness into this busy little boy who loves to get around on the floor, pick up everything dangerous in sight and hang out of his play nest and his baby seat because he wants to know what's under there, or over there and ooh that looks good to eat/touch/feel/pinch/grab/put in mouth.

I know that things will only get busier. 

Eight months on I can say it's true. I've loved him more and more every day, but every day it feels like it couldn't possibly grow any more. And that I'm perfectly (and blissfully) happy in this state of parenthood. 

And lately he's turned into such a little personality...

Living The Dream.

So, with all intents to buy a high chair (yep, we are that disorganised) I finally got round to doing it this week...

His little feet don't quite fit the foot rest just yet as you can well see from the photographic evidence above, but I wouldn't expect that from a seven month old (whose two days away from turning eight months!) unless they were a giant.

So what were we looking for in our high chair? Sturdy, wipe proof, safe, looks cute (hey, who wants a hunk of metal that looks like an eye sore?) and one we're able to feed him from. 

I had done my research all over the Internet because I am like that. I can't stand being conned into buying things purely through clever marketing and selling techniques. Plus I don't want to buy something on a whim and it falls apart.

In comes this high chair from Baby Start (Baby Start you can thank me later, perhaps with other baby supplies?). Unfortunately this particular high chair doesn't appear available for purchase anywhere, I got it from a warehouse that deals with clearance items - nothing wrong with them, they're just reduced stock that Argos can't sell off, so they sell on eBay. I got the "Brum Brum" model so I could live up to the sexist in me that dictates cars for boys and ballerinas for girls (Future Roman: I'm not really like that, I promise).

It's proved great so far and I've had a few good reports on this high chair already and I love making wise purchases. I used to spend about half an hour picking what sweet I wanted from the shop when I was a kid - I like to be meticulous, even when I know what I want. 

I was honestly filled with excitement when we set this chair up. I'd been eagerly awaiting the delivery of this high chair a little too much methinks...

It's just so nice to come a little step closer to being normal like everyone else. How sad I feel the need to conform.

However, this wasn't an issue about conformity. This was a chiropractic issue. We used to feed him when he was strapped into his bouncy chair and let me tell you if that had long continued I might have a future career of bell ringing and falling in-love with a Romany woman called Esmerelda.