Hand-Me-Downs:Is there shame in sharing?

As the eldest of three and the eldest grandchild on both sides I did not have any hand me downs. No hand me down clothes or toys. This thought never occurred to me until I was a parent myself considering whether to accept the kind offer of hand me downs from others.

I am very particular about the children’s clothes and like them to look nice. I prefer certain shops over others as I like the quality. That does not however mean I am a snob (well maybe I am a little but not a clothes snob).

Rhys was the first grandchild for my mum and dad and the first grandson on Martyn’s side so there were no hand-me-down clothes but I gratefully accepted the offer of a bumbo (show me a child who likes their legs being squeezed in to one of these???? No wonder they are always ‘like new’ on sales sites!) a buggy and various other swinging toys. I also was the first of my friends to have a baby so there wasn’t really the offer of clothes. However I was really pleased to be able to offer Rhys’ barely worn clothes to my friends as they started to have their own little boys. I loved the idea his clothes would be worn again by children I knew and loved. Not just sent to a charity shop. I used to silently rejoice when I saw one of Rhys’ tshirts on my friends little boy, it was like glimpsing my little boy again. It was then I realised why people pass on clothes-it’s not because they think you can’t afford to buy whatever you like. They do it for themselves. Because it makes the process of clearing out and admitting your baby has ‘outgrown’ (got bigger, moved on, grew beyond) these items all the more easier. You are not saying good-bye but rather see you again soon.

So when Seren was born i was prepared to accept these offers. I have had some beautiful things passed on from well meaning mummies and been happy to accept. I have in turn passed on some of Seren’s lovely clothes and been happy to think of them going to a good home. So much of what Seren wears is only worn a handful of times. This then got me thinking about the clothes trade and how we now deem clothes to almost be disposable. No one darns a sock any more they just throw it out.

Fashion cycles are moving faster than ever. Fashion brands are churning out styles more frequently in a trend called fast fashion. The clothes are mass produced and are therefore more affordable meaning we buy more and more often. However the real cost of cheap fashion is the damage to the environment, Human nature means we are more likely to dispose of something cheaper as opposed to more expensive items. So actually by sharing and passing on children’s clothes we are being environmentally friendly! I will continue to offer my children’s clothes to others as I think it’s a dreadful waste to throw them away.

I do however think there is a hand me down etiquette

The Do’s and Don’t’s as I see them

Don’t pass on clothes with holes or stains

Do accept thanks graciously

Don’t pass comment when you see a child wearing clothes you have shared. Once you’ve shared you have severed your ownership.

Do silently enjoy seeing clothes that were your’s being worn and loved again.

Don’t advertise the fact you have passed on clothes. The agreement is between you two mummies.

Do pass on clothes-it’s good for the environment!

Unlucky Black Cats?!

Hi my name is Laura and I’m addicted to…CATS! 

In a very short space of time I have become ever so slightly obsessed with cats. I always liked them but once I was able to have them of my own I have stepped up to trainee Crazy Cat Lady status. I have two cats Claude and Pipestrelle (Pip for short). For those of you who have read my blog post Oscar you will understand my reticence in having any further kittens, but when my friend Emma text me to say she had a lovely silver boy I couldn’t resist a little peek.

These are the photos I received

 

**cue gooey eyes and lovehearts**

 

Well clearly he was just beautiful and  couldn’t wait to meet him. I spoke to Martyn and the children and together we decided we would ‘consider’ opening our home, and our hearts **gulp**, to another feline friend. I quzzed Emma-did he seem strong, did he look healthy, was he the smallest in the litter? I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing another poorly baby in to our family and risking the heartbreak that Oscar sadly brought us all. He seemed healthy, strong, ate like a horse and was the biggest in the litter. He was confident and at time a bot bossy. Sounded perfect to me! So I arranged to go and meet him. HE WAS GORGEOUS, Claude was joining our family.

We had to wait a few weeks for him to be old enough to leave Mum and in the meantime Emma started posting pics of his litter mates on the rescue page for people to register an interest n adopting them. Claude was joined by Verity (a long haired black and white beauty) Tilly (a black and white short haired cutie) and Salem (a handsome all black boy). People liked the girls and they soon got snapped up but NO ONE showed any interest in Salem. Why? I asked Emma ‘The sad truth is no one wants black cats’. Sadly I am guilty of this, I always loved Ginger cats and grey cats. I have to admit I felt instantly terribly guilty and shallow. Why did I want a ginger or grey over any other kitten, surely it was more important what kind of temprement they had? I’m not supersticious so I knew it had nothing to do with black cats being lucky or unlucky. On reflection it has to have something to do with the media. Any advert you see for cat food never shows a black cat.

 

Whiskas advertising shows a beautiful silver tabby.

 

Felix does at least show a black and white cheeky chap but no all black.

Sheba, despite depicting a black cat in their logo choose to have a silver blue cat as their star.

 

 

In fact a quick google of black cats throws up witches cats
, cats with pumpkins, black cat the Marvel character, cat woman (sexy but a baddie none the less).

Cat rescues know all too well the sad truth that people don’t want black cats or kittens, they are always the last to be rehomed.

This is true for the UK and America alike. Through no fault of their own, black cats are overlooked time and time again, as most people tend to choose ‘prettier’ coloured cats. Even black kittens are left until last for adoption, while their more colourful siblings are chosen first. The outlook for a black, adult cat in rescue is therefore very bleak. Some spend many months in rescue, sometimes even years, waiting for someone to see past their colour…

Is it because of Superstition?

It all depends on how we think, and even where we live! Superstitions in different cultures and countries vary as to whether black cats are considered good luck or bad. The old idea of black cats being ‘witches cats’ may still influence some people. However, in Britain, Scotland and Japan, a black cat crossing your path, or even if you dream of a black cat, is said to bring you good luck. A black cat’s presence has been credited with bringing about show-stopping performances in theatres. And, in Scotland, finding black kittens sitting in your porch is a sign of riches, and happiness to come!

Is it because of Colour?

There are a few suggestions for this, such as it’s difficult to connect with a black cat in a rescue centre, who may blend into the shadows, or because black cats don’t always show up as well in photographs on web pages (!). Also, as most rescues are so full these days, there are inevitably a wide range of colours which people are more drawn to – whilst the black cats can seem to fade into the background, and are just passed by.

Could you look BEYOND the COAT..?

Look beyond the coat, and black cats have all the charm, and charisma of their more colourful cousins. Not to mention their sleek glossy dark coats which complement their bright shining eyes. They are stunning, regal looking animals; each one an individual. Black cats are just as wonderful as any other, with exactly the same needs – love and care, in a home of their own. If you enjoy the company of cats whatever their colour, please consider adopting a black cat.

One thing is certain, those who have looked ‘beyond the coat’ and adopted a black cat, consider themselves extremely lucky indeed!

So much so there is now such a thing as National Black cat day!

Black cat day 2011

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzKaDi8prgo&noredirect=1

When I finally got to the day I could collect Claude I arrived with my cat box very excited to introduce him to his new family. Salem (his all black brother) wouldn’t leave him alone, once Claude was in the box Salem sat on top meowing and trying to reach inside the bars.

Me: I cannot have two cats.

Emma: ‘Still no interest in Salem bless him’

Martyn would kill me

‘No one wants black cats’

Oh Jesus

‘Aww look he wants his brother’

Just put him in the box

‘Two cats is always better than one in my experience’

Just put him in the box

‘Are you sure?’

Just put him in the box

Seren turned to me and said ‘shall we just not tell Daddy that we have two cats mummy?’ Sounds good Seren; lets not, let’s just open the cat box and hope he doesn’t notice. Salem is black, maybe Daddy will think he is Claude’s shadow?! We walked through the door and Seren loudly announces ‘We only have one cat Daddy’ to which Martyn remarked ‘Well of course, what was the other option?’

**two very guilty faces open the cat box where two little kittens climb out**

Martyn just laughed and said I guess two cats are no more work than one **phew**

Salem was renamed Pipestrelle after a pipestrelle bat (my husband is an ecologist ok? We know the names of different bats-don’t judge!) We call him Pip for short and he is beautiful. I now have no idea why black cats are deemed undesirable he is elegant and gorgeous. He reminds me of a mini panther. So next time you are looking to re-home a kitten, take another look at the all black boys and girls. They are more beautiful than you think.

Book Worms Unite!

As an avid reader I love everything to do with books, the array of covers, the authors picture and bio, the feel of a book and even the smell! There is nothing better than immersing myself in a different world and I love that feeling of being desperate to know what happens next-there isn’t a better feeling than reading a book you just cannot put down.

I know I know-you’re thinking I’m a weirdo right?? Well maybe I am but I know I’m not the only one.

I even LOVE talking about books. When I meet someone new I am much more likely to ask ‘so what book are your reading’ rather than ‘what do you do’. I think it says so much more about a person than their job. Not all of us are lucky enough to do a job that is perfect, that they love and feels is representative of them as an individual; but a book is completely your choice. Or rather normally it is…this brings me perfectly on the the premise behind The Blind Date Book Company.

The old adage ‘Don’t judge a book by it’s cover’ is good advice but if we’re honest we are all guilty of it. I have lost count of the times I have chosen a book because of it’s amazing cover and been disappointed by the story; so the idea behind this company intrigued me.

You choose your book based on a 4 word description and that’s it… No peeking at the cover just 4 simple words.

How exciting!

I just had to have a go. I must admit I was concerned it may be a book I had read previously because of how prolifically I read but I needn’t have worried. I chose my 4 words:

Classic

Secrets

Love

Murder

I know what you’re thinking…great choice…they are good words right?!

I could not wait for it to arrive and luckily I didn’t have to wait long as it arrived the very next day-good service.

I was thoroughly delighted by how lovely the packaging was, there is something so nice about getting a gift so beautifully wrapped through the post that makes you feel special. I have to admit to savouring it, really appreciating how lovely it was not knowing the next book I was going to read.

Then as I turned it over to open it I spotted the teabag! A book and a cuppa-now this is my kind of heaven-throw in a biscuit and it’s perfect! (See how rock and roll I am?? You’re jealous aren’t you??) There was also a little letter that began…

Dear Love,

You are about to start a brand new adventure and maybe fall in love with some new characters. We at the Blind Date Book Company welcome you to new concept of finding the perfect book.

When I finally stopped admiring the packaging and, if I’m honest, wishing I’d thought of this whole idea I actually opened my book. I was thrilled to see it was Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier.

Not only a book I hadn’t read but exactly the type of thing I love to read. Full brownie points TBDBC.

So I did as instructed, popped the kettle on and dunked my Teapigs teabag and settled down to begin.

**Lovely cuppa by the way**

Well I couldn’t put it down, I read it anywhere and everywhere; whenever I could grab 5 minutes. Sometimes whilst stirring dinner, other times sat in the bathroom whilst Seren had a bath and a lot of times when there was football on. Then all too quickly I was finished.

What a wonderful experience from start to finish…it was true I had found new characters to fall in love with and a book to rival my all time favourite Wuthering Heights. I loved receiving such a pretty gift and reading a book I hadn’t chosen myself.

Fabulous idea.

It would be such a lovely treat for yourself or a gift for someone and at £7.99 + postage it is totally affordable.

If you would like to find out more please head over to their Etsy shop: The Blind Date Book Company

**Disclaimer** Whilst I was gifted my book, all my thoughts and opinions are my own.

Mum Guilt

So I want to talk about guilt and how it has just become an accepted part of my life. It’s an emotion I think most parent feels and in a lot of ways it feels like it moved in to my life the moment I became a new mum. It seemed to creep in slowly; I remember feeling guilty because I wasn’t exclusively breastfeeding, guilty because I wasn’t cherishing EVERY second (I was tired ok?! Sometimes I just wished I could pause time and sleep for a day), guilty because I wasn’t contributing financially and then when I did work I felt guilty because I wasn’t at home! Guilt seems to be found in varying measures in every decision I make and a lot of the time my decision is based on what will result in the least guilt.

I think today’s woman has got it pretty tough we are expected to have it all and want it all. To juggle the household, a career, the children, a social life, and me time. Sometimes I think life was simpler when the expectation of women was that they would stay at home and just have the kids and look after the house. (Now I even feel guilty making this statement because I feel like I SHOULD want it all and is it just because I am rubbish that I don’t manage to juggle all these things).

I tend to lean toward the feeling that I am not getting everything/anything right (not all the time I must stress it’s not like I’m manically depressed) but sometimes I feel like I am not the best parent I could be, I quite often get to work and think god I was a nag this morning trying to get the kids ready-I’ll be a nicer mummy when I get home=GUILT. The house isn’t as tidy as it could be=GUILT. I haven’t exactly climbed the career ladder; I left uni and then embarked on 9 years of intermittent part-time working resulting in Martyn having to shoulder most of the financial responsibility of our family=GUILT.

**puffs out cheeks** It’s all rather exhausting.

Looking after yourself is actually good for everybody-including and especially the kids.There is the odd occasion where I long for a solitary bath or even (in my wildest dreams) a wee but as soon as I get that illusive time alone the big bad older brother of Mum guilt-Monster Mum Guilt rocks up and I become consumed by the thought of all the things I should be doing, like the washing/mopping/dog walking/finger painting/soup making/ baking etc. and that kinda takes the shine off.

Sue Atkins, parenting coach, believes guilt is a programmed part of motherhood to make us strive to do the best we can for our children;

“Not only can other peoples opinions and expectations contribute to what you feel about how you are doing as a mother, there’s also the media. There are thousands of websites, articles and blogs telling women what they ‘should’ be doing to be a great mum. But let’s be honest, very few of these media projections show mums and babies covered in sick and snot-even though that is often the reality.”

I’m with Sue here and I think one thing we all need to remind ourselves it parenting is not a competition. No one is winning and more importantly no one is losing. Parenting is about happy children and just as importantly happy parents. Sometimes/most times we are our own worst enemy-being over critical of ourselves and listening too much to what other people think and say rather than trusting ourselves and our own instincts.

So I’m going to try and relax more and stop being over critical-who’s with me?

Me Time

The old illusive Me Time. Honestly I get a bit irritated by the term Me Time it sounds so contrived. A bit like play date, whatever happened to just coming to play?

Anyway,

I digress…

I have to admit that actually I get plenty of me time it’s just interspersed with lots of  ‘stuff to do’ time. I think when people talk about Me Time they mean a big block of time dedicated entirely to themselves and their own interests and I’m not sure I need or want that. Perhaps I’m too boring and wouldn’t really know what to do with myself even if I had loads of me time. **I’ve got to stop using that term-I’m beginning to annoy myself!**

Recently I went away with work to London, which meant once my working day had finished about 8pm I had the rest of the evening to myself. I must admit to being fairly pleased with this prospect. Eating out meant-NO WASHING UP, living out of a suitcase meant-NO WASHING, which meant NO IRONING!!!!!!!!!!!! **Happy dance-Jazz hands** Now this was real Me Time if ever I saw any. So I ran a bath, extra hot knowing that they was no possibility there would be a little person who wanted to share it. I had also been sent a Wilkinson Sword Intuition Ultra Moisturise razor to review so thought this would be the perfect opportunity.

The razor is different to most because it comes with a block of soap that fits around the razor cutting down on shaving time because you don’t need to bother with shaving gel. I sank in to my lovely bubbly bath, with a book and a cuppa: heaven.

MIND BLURT:   I’m always amazed by how hot the water is in hotels considering how many people could be using it at the same time-this then leads me to conclude our boiler must be crap because we have to run the water for about 20 years before it gets warm.”

Anyway back to my relaxing bath. I had a look at the razor, I have to admit my first impressions were it was quite bulky and I was sceptical that it would make shaving ‘easier’ I mean it’s hardly taxing is it? But in for a penny, in for a pound.

Well, it was amazing and so much easier! I get Eczema on my shins and shaving really angers it normally-not with this razor. Plus it was so easy I did ABOVE THE KNEE!!!! So I think that speaks for itself.  Well done Wilkinson Sword.

The Intuition is available for £6.99 from Superdrug, Boots and lots of other retailers. Refills are priced at £6.49 and come with 3 replacement blades and soaps. Currently the razor box has a £2 off voucher so this makes the refills affordable I think.

So after my bath I settled in bed with my book and another cup of tea. it was lovely I must admit, not to have to run up and down the stairs fetching a night time drink, bear, a particular blanket, I’ll be back in 5 minutes, please try to settle down now. But predictably after the first night I missed the kids, I missed tucking them up in bed and kissing them goodnight.

So… Me Time is great but I’m glad to have

Family Time,

Rushing round like a blue-arsed fly Time,

Mummy and Son Time,

Falling asleep 20 minutes in to a film Time,

Couple Time,

Mummy and Daughter Time,

Jesus where are my keys/phone Time,

Leave me alone I’m trying to wee Time and

Is it nearly bed Time?!

Because quite frankly without a little bit of chaos life would be pretty dull.

*Disclaimer* Although I was gifted the Wilkinson Sword Razor my thoughts and opinions are my own

4 Child free night- P-A-R-T-Y right??!

My wonderful Mum and Dad offered to take the kids away to Dorset in their touring caravan for 4 nights. This is the longest I have ever been away from Seren and only the second time Rhys has been away for longer than just the one night.

This was an amazing offer and has saved us a fortune in childcare costs and plus I knew the kids would have a whale of a time. Crab fishing, swimming, donkey rides, sand sculptures, fish and chips the list of memories waiting to be made could go on and on. And I must admit I was excited at the prospect of 4 whole nights child free.

But honestly the reality has been that Martyn has had to work away two out of the four nights and I miss the kids terribly. I don’t really know what to do with myself! It also became clear that having kids is not as much of a sacrifice as people make out. There is nothing that I have done this past week that I couldn’t have done with the kids and actually would have enjoyed more.

Funny really, when you haven’t got kids you look at parents and think ‘God I can’t imagine having kids’; then when you have them you look at childless couples and think ‘what do they do with all that bloody time?’ The only answer I can come up with is sleep a bit more.

Sleep.

Sleep??

Boring.

I mean don’t get me wrong when you aren’t getting enough sleep it’s like the holy grail; some godlike nectar that you fantasise about. But when you are getting enough a little bit more is… meh.. whatever. It’s nice. But it’s not essential.

I have just realised that in writing this I probably seem to some people like a complete saddo, but do you know what?? I don’t care. I love being a mum and my kids are great. I mean, don’t get me wrong it isn’t always easy and there are somedays when it is downright hard but truthfully I love it.

Even though I miss them, I am so glad that they have such lovely grandparents. Grandparents that love them and want to spend time with them and take them on holiday and make memories that will last a lifetime. So even though I will know next time that I will miss them and feel lost, I will still wave them off happily knowing that they will have a marvellous time and I will get them back.

I will get them back, happy and excited to see me, excited to tell me all of their stories about their adventures and memories!

This year we decided to go to Mallorca for 2 weeks during the 6 week school holiday. We were desperate for a bit of sun and it would also be two weeks out of six that we didn’t have to organise, and pay for, childcare. We chose Mallorca because it was close (only 2.5hour flight) and you could pretty much guarantee the sunshine in August.

As we all** have fairly sensitive skin and have a history of Eczema, prickly heat and heat rash finding a sun cream that would be a high enough SPF in 30 degree heat and not aggravate our skin was certainly a challenge. Having previously tried most of the usual lotions widely available in supermarkets etc it became clear that the answer would lie in more specific sensitive skin brands. I contacted a few companies for samples and received some from Sunsense UK.

** when I say all I DO NOT include Martyn in this statement. He is some weirdo with skin that instantly goes golden-no redness-nothing. *tut*

The samples I received were amazing. I never knew factor 50 could be so light and easily absorbed. My past experience was of smearing something thick and chalk like that even after hours won’t rub in. I was impressed. As a consequence none of us suffered with any of our usual complaints and we were able to concentrate on enjoying our holiday.

Plus… I GOT A TAN

EVEN MY LEGS.

Unfortunately there is no photographic evidence because…ewwww my legs…just no.

As we didn’t have skin irritation to fill our time with we did loads of fun stuff! We did lots of swimming, which, by the way, is way more fun with a GoPro camera.I got it for Martyn for his birthday right before we went and had no idea just how much it could do! We have all these weird and wonderful attachments that strap it to your head, chest, and underwater case-it was seriously fun.

I think in part it was so entertaining for me because when I was a kid you had those cameras that had actual film inside that you had to wind on after taking each shot. Does anyone else remember the ones which came with funny face monster stickers so you could personalise your disposable camera?

Not now-kids have access to underwater, digital, super duper cameras. Crazy when you think about it.

The boys went snorkelling but Seren and I preferred the hotel pool so left them to get sandy and salty!

 

One thing which I thought was quite funny was how different you are on holiday. I know most people talk about feeling relaxed and happy on holiday and how it’s a false emotion because it’s in a false environment but actually in my case I just became socially awkward **laughs**

At one point we were sat by the pool and I remarked to Martyn that I recognised the family opposite from back home; which was pretty unlikely considering how far away we were. Anyway, the next day I found we were sat next to said family on our sunloungers. Before my brain had even kicked in to gear the words ‘Hi, where are you from because I am sure I recognise you.’ were out of my mouth. **what. a. weirdo!** After finding out they were in fact from the same area as us I became really tongue tied-I think at this point the realisation that I sounded really odd had sunk in and I was trying hard to come across like less of a weirdo.

I failed-family avoided us for the remainder of the holiday. **face palm**

Now would probably be a good time to point out I am normally perfectly appropriate socially and actually could be deemed as sociable; as in socially able. So god knows what happened to me on holiday. There was one time when after chatting amicably to a family who were leaving that day to go home I remarked ‘see you later’ now this in itself is a completely normal way to end a conversation. I could have just left it there..but my holiday social awkwarditis meant I just had to add ‘well, not really. Because you are going home so…have..a..nice… life erm… I mean journey.’

**oh god someone shut me up**

Martyn just looked at me incredulously with a smirk on his face. ‘what’s wrong with you?!’ *shoulder shrug,head shake*

Luckily however you don’t have to talk to many strangers on holiday unless you want to so I then took my holiday social awkwarditis to new heights and developed holiday stranger muteness. Which actually was preferable.

Aside from my social condition we had a whale of a time and even 3 overcast and slightly rainy days did nothing to dampen that. These are the days that make memories and family time is just so damn precious. I just want to breathe it in and commit it all to the hard drive of my mind.

Fly little bird

Seren is starting school in September and after months of being in denial I can now honestly say I am devastated at the idea.

Inwardly of course-only inwardly because outwardly I have to be excited and                                       encouraging but really I am sad on the inside: always on the inside.

I was the same when Rhys went to school. I love our time so much, I don’t want to give it up.

Seren said something the other night that really struck a chord in me…

Our job as a parent is not to limit and hold back our children but to simply always be there.

Seren will occasionally wake in the night for a wee-this particular night was the same as any other. I went and collected her from bed and carried her to the bathroom. On the way there in her sleepy/dreamy state she stroked my back and mumbled, delicately in to my ear. “I love you Mummy. You always come when I call.”

“I will ALWAYS be there when you call,both you and your brother, I won’t hinder or limit but I will be just a few steps behind so that I can forever be there when you call.”

This poem has been prompted by Seren going to school but it is also for Rhys because I felt exactly the same when he started school.

Little Bird

My little bird who I have watched change and grow

I have seen your personality start to show

On the horizen is upset for our status quo…

It’s time for me to let you go

So go and learn to fly little bird

Together we have grown

and I have shown

you the way

so that you will learn to fly one day

So go and learn to fly little bird

Your days will soon be filled with noise and fun

But mine will certainly quieten down some

Whilst grown-ups will fill my day

Thoughts of you will often come my way

Go and learn to fly little bird

You are my little shadow

I’ve taught you what I think you need to know

Wherever I am, you want to be with me

Wherever I turn there you will be.

I’ll miss you my little bee

Learn to fly my little bird

Though I will mourn days gone by

And at times will probably cry

Please know that you are one of my

greatest achievements and I

want so much for you to fly

So spread your wings and soar high my little bird

If you look down there you will see

me

There I will always be…

Watching you fly high my little bird

Baby number 2-making sure your first born doesn’t feel pushed aside.

Mother Nature is a tricky sod and sometimes well laid plans don’t always go the way you want. So instead of the planned 2 years in between our babies we ended up with nearly 5. That was ok. (Well it wasn’t but it is now and alls well that ends well!)

Being almost 5 years old meant Rhys was very aware of what was going on. And so Martyn and I thought very carefully about how to handle the pregnancy announcement. One thing we both felt strongly about was that Rhys was never to feel pushed out or like he was being replaced. We made the conscious decision that this was as much his news as ours.

Looking back this decision was key-almost genius *self high-fiving* (does anyone else do that? It’s oddly satisfying!) I can’t take the credit however as it was Martyn who decided it should be Rhys that announced our pregnancy to family and friends. We didn’t want it to be that ‘we were having a new baby’ we wanted it to be that ‘Rhys was having a baby sister or brother.’

I will never forget how pleased he was to hear we were having a baby. He had been asking for a brother or sister for a year or so and had even resorted to calling our pet pooch Bailey his ‘dog brother’. I mean like literally. It usually went a bit like this…

Dog Walker: ‘Oh is this your dog? What’s his name?’

Rhys: ‘This is Bailey, he’s my dog brother and a cocker spaniel’

**Awkward Silence**

So it was with some relief we told him his dream was to come true. Next stop was Nanny and Rando’s (Rhys has always called my dad Rando and it’s stuck, I think the fact that it sounds a lot like Rambo means my dad is quite keen on it as a moniker!) We arrived at their house and armed with the 12 week scan photo Rhys stood in the middle of the room…

Rhys: ‘Listen I have some news’

*mum and dad smile and wait expectedly*

Rhys: ‘Look! I am going to have a baby brother or sister.’

*mum and dad look at Martyn and I for clarification, I smile and nod.*

Queue squealing, hugging, tears and pure happiness and excitement.

Rhys was central to this whole thing, the news was his.

The excitement involved him.

This new baby was as much his as it was ours.

Rhys was involved along the way; never excluded. We took him to come to scans, he came to midwife appointments, we showed him pictures of the baby as they developed and talked about how he would be so important as a big brother.

When I came to pack my hospital bag we also packed Rhys one too, we explained to him what would happen when the baby started coming and what he would need to do. We told him the whole plan step by step; that he would go to my mums and stay there until the baby was born. A friend of mine bought Rhys a top that said ‘Big Brother’ and this was the first thing we packed in his bag.

Sure enough the day came when we needed to go to the hospital and predictably it was 2am. Rhys was woken and the first words out of his mouth were ‘is the baby coming?’ He knew what was happening and what would happen next, this took any fear out of the situation for him I think. He dressed quickly and got straight in the car.

I rang my mum-despite it being 2am it didn’t even ring and there was my mum on the other end.

Me: ‘Mum?!’

Mum: ‘I knew you would be calling.’

Me: ‘It didn’t even ring’

Mum: ‘I know I just got out of bed to check the phone was working and when I picked it up to check the dialtone you were on the other end.’

WOW! Talk about a mothers intuition!!!!

Long story short Seren was born. Our first thought was to call Rhys-he had to be the first to know. Martyn called my mum and asked to speak to Rhys. It was Rhys who got to tell my mum and dad that he had a baby sister and she was called Seren. (Not Sandra Fandra as he’d told my mum we would call a girl! Kids eh?! Hilarious) He apparently put his big brother top on as soon as he put down the phone!

When Rhys came to the hospital to meet his sister for the first time I made sure I wasn’t holding Seren. I didn’t want him to feel like he couldn’t run up and give me a cuddle as normal, I wanted him to be able to go over to his sister and say hello without feeling excluded from me. I think this was really important and I would definitely recommend to others. We also got Rhys a present and said it was from his sister. An oldie but a goodie!

Rhys’ involvement continued as we got home, he was never pushed or even asked to do things for Seren but was able to if he chose to. And we found quite often that he did choose to give her a bottle, comfort her and help with looking after her. Not so much the nappies though-he was conspicuous by his absence on those occasions!

I’m not saying we’re prefect but I would say a few things that we consciously chose to do made Rhys’ transition from only child to big brother as smooth as possible. And although they bicker they do really love each other.