My *ahem* 'Music Video'
*Not to be taken too seriously :-)
x x x

It's been a little over eight weeks since my little man made his début on the outside world. During this time I've mastered the art of juggling, can multi-task like never before and have learnt many a very valuable lesson, but mostly, over everything else I've learnt, I have come to understand the true meaning of the term, 'Mummy's Boy.'




My goodness that child, though I say it myself, is completely delicious. I could get lost in his enormous baby blues, when he gazes at me, his eyes wide like deep blue pools, I become completely mesmerized. And his head, oh the sweetness of the scent of his little bald head, I wish I could bottle the fragrance and smell it forever.




If I actually owned an apron, it has to be said, I think I would tie my little Leonardo to the strings with great big bows.




And I used to seriously despise Mummy's Boys, honestly I did. (Though perhaps it was the actual Mummies I despised more than their Boys.)




Perfectly good men have been kicked to the kerb, many a mobile phone number erased and several, otherwise promising, matches have been burnt-out on account of all the boys sharing one common trait, f'ing awful Mothers.




To give you an even clearer indication, I once dated a guy who had to be home every evening, without fail, at seven o'clock sharp to share an evening meal with his mother. His mother had a particular thing against girls being in the house, and since I did not actually posses a penis (though had more balls than most men I know,) I of course was never actually welcome to stay and thus had to wait for the duration of the meal, (usually three courses) outside. In his car. Oh yes, his car. He was 21.




Seriously 21 years old and unable to invite a girl in for tea?! Nor to even perch quietly on the couch whilst he ate his tea. Utterly crazy. I guess you know it's time to ditch 'em when they rush a dinner date with you to be home for a second date with the mother.




Now I've always been nice and polite and respectful towards those women whom bore the sons that I took interest in. I always tried to be friendly and I always ensured my skirts were never too short nor my heels too high upon meeting the parents, yet it was a rare occasion when my manners were returned by the Mums, (though Dad's have always seemed quite pleasant.) And typically those fortunate enough to not have dragons as mums were usually the ones I wasn't all that bothered about in the first place.




I suppose if I were to really analysis things it was the single Mums, the Mums who had single-handedly taken care of their little boys, who were always the most unpleasant. And I totally get it, they'd invested time and love and effort into the life of their strapping sons and were so frightened of being left along when, or if, that son flies the nest. I can understand that, of course, yet the upset I felt by being snubbed by this breed was enough to make me vow that if I ever had a little boy myself, I would be different, no matter what my circumstances.




My Nanny Brenda says, 'A daughter is a daughter all her life, a son is a son 'til he finds a wife.' Now I don't know if that's true, but is enough to make me want to lock my little Leo up in his bedroom for years and years, away from the temptations and troubles of girls like me. Unreasonable, yes. Stupid, yes, but true nevertheless. Alas I know from my own experience that to breed and raise yet another Mummy's Boy is unnecessary and frankly cruel to any would-be suitors out there.




Fortunately my own Mother-In-Law has managed to do a pretty perfect job of raising her offspring to ensure he has the perfect balance of Mummy's Boy Syndrome in him. He loves his mother, adores her in fact, he respects her and can get her to do all his ironing with just a little wink and a smile, (pretty much the way he gets me to do most things too lol) and yet he does not share a freakishly unhealthy or abnormal relationship with her at all. I definitely think I could take a leaf out of my mother-in-laws book, and I'm not even saying that just for the brownie points either. :-)




It is my intention to raise my little boy to be a happy, healthy, kind and caring young man, with all the qualities of a gentleman, the courage of his namesake - the lion, and of course the strength of an ox. I know, I'm striving for absolute perfection, but I do like to aim high :-)




I have come to realise, within these past few weeks, that the methods of which I use to raise my little Lady however differ from those I use with her baby bro.




Not that I treat my children unequally or love them differently or anything, I am absolutely head over heels for both of them, it's just that I've discovered that raising a little boy and raising a little girl are two completely different tasks.




I can't quite put my finger on the actual differences between the methods I use though, it's odd. I suppose it stems from my wanting different things for them perhaps? Different aspirations and different ideas of the kind of people that my two little cherubs might grow to be. Of course nobody knows what the future holds for either of them, all I can really do is prepare them for the paths I imagine they may take.




And let's face it, certain qualities are more beneficial for certain sexes. I don't mean for this to sound old-fashioned or chauvinistic or anything. It's not like I'm going to teach Lori how to sew and bake and powder her nose and all that and then teach Leo to make paper aeroplanes, play keepy-uppy and construct a number of weird and wonderful things from wood, (haha, can you imagine?!) - It's just that I believe there are separate foundations for each gender that need to be laid down before the building can commence. (I realise I make reference to building and stuff quite a lot lately, blame my mother for getting me hooked on, 'The Home Show,' and then blame the gorgeous softly-spoken George for being way too irresistible to switch off! Lol – Sorry Jay.)




I'm not going to stereotype my kids according to their sexes, despite my own personal preference for men to be men, (rugged and tough) and women to be women, (flirtatious and feminine) I won't be upset if Lori becomes a mechanic and Leo comes home wearing make-up (though Daddy might have a thing or two to say I'm sure! Lol) just so long as they are happy, I'm happy.




And on the off chance that this blog still exists in, ooh i don't know, 20 years or so, I'd like to make the following declaration to those who may have the pleasure of falling for my children, they way i have done . . .

I, Stephanie Connolly, hereby promise to never wind up being an absolute dragon of a mother-in-law, (just so long as you take care of my babies :-) )




x

Once upon a time, in a land faraway, there lived a princess named, 'Cordelia,' (actually her name was Stephanie but since that is very 80's, (sorry Mum, Dad, but it is,) we shall go with Cordelia for now,) naturally Cordelia was very beautiful, witty, intelligent, charming, charismatic and well, wonderful, (yes she was,) and she spent most of her life searching for her Prince Charming, (and the perfect pair of heels.)




Cordelia kissed her fair share of frogs in her quest for love and indeed met one or two princes, yet none of them seemed quite right for her, until eventually she fell head over high heels in love with Prince Jay.




Unfortunately Princess Cordelia and Prince Jay did not live happily ever after upon meeting, as they should have. Instead theirs was a back-to-front kind of fairytale, an Irish one if you will, and their pursuit of ultimate happiness was littered with sad, frightening and occasionally tragic experiences.




Their first castle together was invaded by drunken goblins from a strange land known as 'Chavsville.' The goblins destroyed all of the Prince and Princesses possessions, smashed the castle to pieces and hurt them and their friends in the kingdom and Princess Cordelia thought Prince Jay was going to die.




She saved his life with a kiss (because her kisses are magical) and together they went in search of a new castle. They thought their 'happily ever after' was in sight when they discovered they were going to have a baby and yet had all hopes dashed when they discovered their baby had gone to heaven to be an angel.




Later they found they had a new baby, a little prince, yet fate also intended for Prince Harry to be an angel too.




Once again the Prince and Princess, together with their little Princess Lorelei and all their animal friends found a new castle and opted to have a fresh start to their fairy tale, however once again tragedy struck as the Royal puppy, Mr. T ran into the path of a speeding chariot and sadly met his death :-(




When the Prince and Princess learnt they were expecting a new baby they were so frightened that they would not get a chance to meet this baby, that instead this baby would join his siblings in heaven yet finally the fates smiled upon the royal family and blessed them with Prince Leonardo, an heir to the thrown.




Princess Cordelia became the Queen of her castle, and Prince Jay became her King and together with their beautiful daughter the family were overjoyed with their gift. The whole kingdom celebrated!




And they all lived happily ever after.




The End.




Or is it?




I mean, what happens next? What happens when you've met your match and have everything you've always longed for? (Except perhaps that perfect pair of heels?)




Are you just content? Do you simply spend your days smiling happily and floating around your castle on cloud nine?




Or is there a sequel to the story? A new dream to pursue?




I know they say Fairytales don't exist. That they are merely fantasies, figments of the romantic imagination, but I am a believer, fiction or fact it is the concept of fairytales that gets me through most days.




I guess I've always lived with my head up in the clouds, where everybody loves one another and lives in harmony. Call me sentimental, a hippy, or just a soppy tart, either way it is the truth. But oh-so often the harsh realities of the world seem to draw me back down to earth with an almighty thud and it seems to take me an age to nurse the bruises this can cause.




I do believe that there is en element of light to be found in even the darkest of corners, that every cloud has a silver lining, that where god shuts a door somewhere he opens a window. Yet i am so suspicious of this place that I'm in, I'm so aware that it could all fall to pieces and that my happily ever after could simply transform into a 'happily for now' at any moment, that I struggle to just enjoy the here and now. And the truth is I'm scared.




What I really want if for someone to hold me in their arms, envelope me in love and tell me that it's all going to be alright, that I've been through enough tragedy for now and that I can relax and breathe knowing that this part of my journey is here to stay. But I fear nobody can do that for me, and instead I'm left feeling like a contestant on a game show, where I've reached an enormous prize yet could lose it all with just one wrong answer, one wrong move. If only I could just get to the next step where I could bank it all and be safe in the knowledge that my prizes are completely secure.




No one really knows what's round the next corner. Some people go through life with very little stress or strain. Others are given the world and don't quite know what to do with it. Some of us will fluctuate between happiness and sorrow and some of us will unknowingly invite drama in wherever possible. I think I fall into the latter.




How much of our lives do we really have control over? How much of it is up to the fates? Can I really just cling to all I have and fight off any elements that threaten to break it? Do fairytales really exist? Answers on a postcard please :-)




I'm going to stop analysing now, its hurting my head. Instead I am going to hold on tight. Be thankful for all I have and savour the moment, no matter how long it lasts.