Slow down little one…

Slow down little one…

Our daughter turned 4 in December. She is tall for her age and is regularly mistaken for being much older, but that isn’t just because of her height. She is very mature for her age and thinks and problem solves like a child of 6 or 7.

She practically potty trained herself at 18 months old, she just woke up one day and refused to wear a nappy: day or night. She wrote her name well before she was 2 and aged 3 decided she wanted to learn to read. However far from this being about me boasting or bragging I actually wish she would slow down.

I wasn’t ready for her to ditch the nappies, I wanted her to be my baby for a little while longer. But she wanted out of them so not wanting to hold her back I dutifully got the potty out.

She is more than likely going to be our last baby (I can’t bring myself to say never again but it’s unlikely) and I wanted to cherish each moment but Seren has had other ideas. She wants to be an adult, she isn’t even interested in being a big girl, she just wants to be a grown up. She wants a baby, a bra and a Unicorn. (That was actually her Christmas list last year! With other items like a real pig and pink glasses with real diamonds on!) But I’m just not ready. I want her to enjoy being a little girl, I want to keep her as my baby for as long as possible.

Slow Down Little One

My baby wants to be a grown up

Slow down baby what’s the rush?

She wants to have her independence

Slow down baby what’s the rush?

I want her to need me just a little longer

Before she heads off into life

Before she throws herself head long

Into all that struggle and strife.

My little girl wants to be a mummy, a midwife and a rockstar

My little girl wants to wear my high heels

Slow down baby, what’s the rush?

I want to pick her clothes,

But she knows what she wants to wear.

I want her to hold my hand,

I need her her to want me there.

My big girl wants to learn to read,

She wants to read things for herself.

She isn’t happy to listen to stories,

Story books get dusty on the shelf.

Please slow down baby girl

I don’t understand the rush.

Be a little girl, play pretend, please don’t rush.

Mummy is happy to keep up and I will learn to let go,

but slow down little one,

Slow down baby what’s the rush?

Old age should burn and rave at close of day…

I know that I’m not old, I’m not completely grey or as wrinkly as a raisin but, do you know what? I am not okay with the whole ageing thing. Dylan Thomas had it right when he wrote:

 Do not go gentle into that good night,

                       Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

    Rage, rage against the dying of the light

I’ve always been lucky enough to be youthful looking and quite often mistaken for being younger than I am. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there have been times when that has been rather inconvenient…like being 18 and thrown out of a pub with your 22 year old boyfriend or trying to buy the beer for a BBQ at 27 and being refused only to realise your ID is at home. I had a child in tow, my wedding ring on and everything; our guests were not impressed when I arrived home empty handed: tee-total BBQ’s are just not the same. And I must say that being treated like a teen mum when I had Rhys, even though I was 23 was downright irritating and at times upsetting. Even midwives would judge me, “are you still with the father” err “Yes thanks, we have been together 7 years and I’m actually 23!” I think all of these situations made me want to look my age and maybe even meant I took my youthful looks for granted. Well here comes the big slap in the face! I’m starting to age *sigh, slow head shake*

I know it’s not unusual, this getting older and looking older thing but for me it kind of happened all of a sudden. I turned 32 and I started to notice lots more greys and wrinkles that just weren’t there before. Now I’m not stupid I always knew I wouldn’t look 18 forever but I’m not sure how I feel about looking 32. To see your face changing is incredibly strange. Don’t worry I’m not going to rush out and book in for a face lift but I have found myself researching anti-ageing face creams, skin treatments and even *whispers* botox! Oh and can someone explain how I am old enough to have wrinkles and grey hair, yet young enough to still have zits?????? UNFAIR

I just don’t quite know what to do…I am ill prepared. I’ve never cleansed, toned and moisturised in my life (apart from the facial)-my before bed beauty regime has always been a face wipe; and to be brutally honest that was a step up from wet wipes out of the changing bag. Dying my hair has been a source of bewilderment for me, I never dyed it, it just was brown. But then those pesky wiry buggers started appearing and I thought I’d cover them with a box dye- easy right? it works for Davina so it will work for me. Incorrect! My grey hairs are super human, they absorb dye for like a day and then are unashamedly grey once more. So I tried highlights, if I can’t cover them then maybe I would be better camouflaging them?!? Correct!! *yay…does happy dance…jazz hands* but now I have dry hair that HAS to have morrocan oil slathered on after every wash. I am beginning to despair with it all!

And then I give my head a shake and think how shallow I am being; growing old is a privilege denied many.

So maybe I will just have to make peace with it as quite honestly it’s all a bit exhausting. I might not be quite ready to grow old gracefully but can someone please tell me how to do it ungracefully?????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Did someone say Spa day? Count me in!

Did someone say Spa day? Count me in!

As a belated birthday present my mum and dad paid for a spa day. Now don’t go thinking it’s my birthday-it was August…I’m not that easy to tie-down to dates it’s true. In the end mum just booked our day and told me where I was going and what time to be there = perfect if you ask me.

Mum booked us in at the Telford Spa and Golf hotel it included two mini treatments each (30 mins each treatment) a coffee and full access to the spa facilities from 10am – 2pm.

We arrived spot on 10am which is some small miracle as my mum is ALWAYS late (sorry mum). After a stressful few weeks at work I was so ready for some relaxation, but in the back of my mind hoping I would spare myself the embarrassment of actually nodding off during my treatments and quietly pondering whether I would snore. Snap back to reality and we entered a very stylish and luxurious reception, we signed in and walked through to the spa where there was pretty ground floor lighting instantly creating a relaxing atmosphere *sigh*

Mum and I both chose to have facials, I’d never had one before but had always quite fancied one. We went in to a little room and lay down, the beauticians came in and wrapped us up (oh no *yawns*) then they started the facial, cleansing, toning, moisturising and a scalp massage (AMAZING). Honestly it was lovely and so relaxing. I did pass comment that should I win the lottery I would have one every week.

*note to self…start buying lottery tickets as this strongly increases the odds of winning*

After we could peel ourselves off the bed and back upright we left the tranquil little treatment room to have our toenails filed and polished with a gel polish. The polish they used was Jessica Gel Nail Varnish I chose a coral colour and mum went for a bright cherry red, my usual choice but I wanted to try something different.

Forgive the foot photo they are rarely flattering are they?!

As well as our treatments we got to relax in the spa and make full use of the lovely pool and the sauna and steam room. I loved the steam room and it felt so lovely to be so warm after what feels like a never ending winter.

After we were completely renewed we made our way to the bar for a spot of lunch. We both had a panini which was most satisfactory. Great food in a lovely setting-I sure could get used to these kind of Fridays!

It was a great day and I will certainly be adding spa day vouchers to my future birthday and Christmas lists. And why go further afield when there is such a lovely Spa only 40 minutes drive away.

Thanks Telford Golf and Spa Hotel for such a relaxing day. As a working mum of two and wife to a travelling Ecologist this was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Oscar

Oscar

People who know me know that I have recently become a bit of a cat lady. I always loved cats but was unable to have one whilst living with my parents because my mum is allergic- *cough* allegedly!

My best friend Emma is a huge animal lover and started helping out a cat rescue called Kats Kradle, this involved taking in a litter of kittens and fostering them until they were old enough to be re-homed. I always joked that as soon as she had a ginger tabby I would be in trouble. Sure enough in came a litter with one silver, one ginger and one peach tabby. Uh oh I was in love.

He was just beautiful and I knew he was to become part of our family. We called him Oscar and I pestered Emma for regular updates until he was old enough to come home. He fit right in and our life as a one dog, one cat home started. Oscar was the kindest cat and let Seren push him around in her pushchair and even snuggled up in Rhys T-Shirt!

Sadly Oscar wasn’t long for this world and after a few trips to the vets for a strange clouding in his eye which we didn’t really get to the bottom of and a wobble in his legs he went rapidly down hill; losing weight and all coordination in his back legs. The last time I took him to the vets I knew it wasn’t good. I told the children to give him a cuddle because he was really poorly and there was a chance the vet couldn’t make him better. I wanted to prepare them and give them the chance to say their goodbye.

On the journey to the vets Oscar was quiet which was unusual because he HATED being in the cat box and normally howled and scratched at it like a feral cat. I whispered a promise to him that I would do everything I could to make him better. Little did I realise I wouldn’t get the chance,

Sitting in the waiting room I dreaded them calling us in; knowing that this was probably it and wanting to delay the inevitable. Alexa our vet, who I must say was marvellous, took him out of his box and examined him. I could tell by the look on her face we were had reached that point. She looked up at me with her stethoscope still in her ears and said “I’m sorry he’s so poorly, there is nothing I can do”. I can only describe the emotion as a whoosh (pretty crap description for someone with an English degree I know). I knew it wasn’t good but I had been trying to remain positive; as soon as she said that sentence all of my defences crumbled and the emotion hit me in a whoosh (hey! Onomatopoeia was good enough for Shakespeare and he was a literary great!) Alexa then asked me did I want to be in the room whilst Oscar was put to sleep-of course, I couldn’t leave him at the end. I stroked him and spoke to him whilst it happened and he purred right up until the point at which he stopped. That is probably the best way to describe Oscar’s end, he simply stopped.

Despite being vaccinated Oscar had contracted FIP Feline Infectious Peritonitis an incurable and fatal disease that is usally found in cats under 2 years old, it can manifest itself in many forms. Alexa advised me it was likely he contracted this whilst in his mothers womb and assured me there was nothing I could have done differently.

More info here: FIP info

Devastated I walked out of the treatment room and paid; a process I can’t help but think should be changed, I know I need to pay for the medicine and the consultation but I don’t think it had to be right then, right that moment. That moment when I could barely see to type my pin number through the tears. Standing there in a waiting room with tears rolling down my face and an empty cat box.

An empty cat box sat on the seat next to me all the way home.

That empty cat box made me so sad.

I left that empty cat box in the car.

I walked up to the house where my children waited expectantly,

no cat box,

their little faces crumpled.

Seren burst in to tears and Rhys ran upstairs to his room.

Pet loss.

Stupidly I hadn’t considered it when we bought Oscar home 5 months earlier-I naively thought we wouldn’t have to deal with that for at least another 10 years. The loss of a pet is awful as an adult, I couldn’t imagine how upsetting it would be as a child of 8 and 3. The children both adored Oscar and he had become such a large part of our family almost immediately. I researched pet loss and found some really useful information which I will include here

Children and pet loss info

Seren struggled with the idea that Oscars absence was permanent and would ask “Where’s Oscar?” “When is Oscar coming home?” she would cry saying she missed him and that “Oscar always came to me when I cried”.  Rhys sadly understood; he understood the finality of death: there was no coming back.

Oscar was gone from us,

Forever.

Both of our children grieved, they both grieved differently and they grieved hard.

This was incredibly hard to witness and dwarfed my sadness, their hurt was so intense and all consuming. 12 months on and Oscars death still looms large in Seren and Rhys’ life. He is still talked about, cried over and very much missed but I don’t regret opening our home to him. He taught us all so much. He taught the children the responsibility of looking after your pets, especially when they are poorly, he taught them to be gentle and considerate, he taught them compassion and finally he taught them the hardest lesson-Loss. But I don’t wish to take it back, although if I could change one thing I would change Oscar having to leave us. I wouldn’t change having him as part of our family. I think Anatole France said it best when he said;

Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened

RIP Oscar.

My Best Boy

My Best Boy

Rhys is now 9. 9! 9?! How on earth did that happen. Don’t worry I won’t continue down that route as I can understand how annoying it is. It happened because time does not stand still.

So Rhys is now 9. I can remember being 9; I watched The Racoons, drank Um Bongo, listened to Shakespeare’s Sister on loop and was desperate to have ‘Dream Phone’ for Christmas. And trust me those memories are vivid and certainly don’t seem like they occurred 23 years ago.

I look at Rhys and marvel at how he is a person not just a little boy who is an extension of me or Martyn. He has his own personality, sense of humour, thoughts and opinions.

He has a very strong moral compass. I always used to joke he was like a little policeman when he was younger. If they were told at school not to go on the grass there is no way Rhys would go on the grass and he would be horrified when others disregarded the no grass rule.This has of course relaxed a little now he is older but he still knows right from wrong and usually makes the right choice.

He is kind. I think this is one of his characteristics which I am most proud of. He is aware of peoples feelings and for the most part is sensitive to them. When we had Seren Rhys was almost 5. He could have been forgiven for resenting his new baby sister who came along and shared in his limelight; limelight which had previously been his entirely. But he didn’t. He was so delighted to have a sibling, he didn’t even mind she was a girl. He wanted to help feed her and teach her things. This is still true today (the teaching not the feeding!) he will gently, and sometimes not so gently, remind Seren not to talk with her mouth full, how to tie shoelaces and to say please and thank you. Or ‘Pease’ and ‘Danch yoo’ as Seren says -Cute right?!

**To anyone considering a large-ish age gap I say go for it! We initially wanted the popular 2 year age gap but that was not meant to be (more on that another time, it’s a long story-one I’m not sure I’m ready to tell just yet). Aged 5 Rhys didn’t compete with his sister, he was old enough to know sometimes his sisters needs were more urgent than his but never more important**

One thing which will always make Rhys incredibly special is he made me a Mother. Mum. Mummy. Before him I was Laura, that was fine but being a Mum is every kind of awesome. To be a Mum felt so familiar to me. Like the smell of home-you can’t quite put your finger on what it is but it just feels right, safe, comfortable. He opened a part of me that had previously lay dormant. I felt love like I had never known existed, a love which was completely unconditional, fiercely and intensely strong. And for that I will be eternally grateful to my boy. My Best Boy. xx

I love thee, I love but thee,

With a love that shall not die

Till the sun grows cold,
And the stars are old
 
‘Bedouin Song’ by Bayard Taylor 1825-1878