“Think it's my birthday tomorrow though can't be sure. To be sure I'd have to know what day it is today. Which I don't. #sleepdeprivation :-/ "
- www.twitter.com/slc84

I’m hoping you’ll forgive me, not only for paying you very little attention and not blogging for these past few weeks, but also for the inevitable lack of amusement or wit that I fear I will have to offer you in this blog post.

(And if this is your first visit to my little blog, you should know that normally I am obviously much funnier, wittier and generally more charming than the following ramble shall demonstrate. *Obviously. ;-) )

You see even with the addition of my brand new (very, very) smart phone, (which was an early b’day pressie from Mr. C – see, told you it was my Birthday sometime soon . . . ) I have yet to master the art of juggling my life into something a little more manageable, something that isn’t whizzing by in a haze of, erm, ‘blurriness.’

I’m not very witty at the moment, I can barely string a sentence together, my vocabulary is pants (for want of a better word,) and my brain is a little bit numb. So I ought not to waste too much of your time this evening.

My third and final Bambino, baby Mason Joshua, (or MJ as he’s known to us,) is, as you’ve probably gathered, here at last! And boy was he worth the wait. I’ve recorded you guys a little vid, by way of introducing you to the new man in my life, hope you like it! (Ignore the commentary by the way, I hadn’t realised how deranged I sound when talking to him. Lol)

His arrival was, thankfully, a very speedy one. Born here at home, on Mummy and Daddy’s bed at 1:50am on Jan 13th, Mj was a respectable 9lb 4ounces, back-to-back, and yet the labour was probably the easiest of the three. (Feel free to send medals, or shoes!) The whole experience of homebirth was everything that I’d hoped for, and much more! But I won’t rave about it today, (primarily because I’m typing this entry with a teeny-tiny person balanced on my knee and can’t type one-handed) – perhaps I’ll cover it at a later date? Or perhaps you’ll have to get your mitts on a copy of my new book for all the gory details!

Of course in order to read my new book, (The Real Girls Guide to Growing a Baby,) I understand I shall have to actually finish writing it. (I don’t know who’s idea it was to write a book and grow a baby at the same time, but clearly it hasn’t gone quite to plan.) So I’m being sensible. I’m taking a little official Maternity Leave, but I shall crack straight on again in a few weeks. I’ll make the deadline. I promise.

Juggling three children, too many animals, a small business and the biggest writing project I’ve ever attempted, is no easy task, so I’m discovering. Especially when one of my babies has been knocked sideways by a bug from hell. Poor Leo, I’d never seen him look so rough; pale, skinny, dark circles under his eyes. He was unable to keep anything down, nothing at all, and subsequently several trips and overnight stays in the Childrens Ward were made last week.

It’s heartbreaking to see children poorly, but thankfully he’s fine now, our cheeky charmer. He’s back toddling around the house, chattering away in his own little language and helping himself to all the food in the fridge whenever he feels inclined. God I love him. I love them all.

Lorelei goes to theatre school now every Saturday, and she loves it! She returns with new songs to add to her repertoire of tunes that she currently belts out at the crack of dawn for all to hear, (until I yell at her and ask her to sing elsewhere,) and she struts around in high heels (that’s my girl) and various home-made costumes, speaking in an American accent and saying things like, ‘Come on Leo, teeth-brushed, bot-bot and bed. Because that is how we roll.’

I think she’s destined for stardom. That’s where she appears to be heading anyway. Either way she always shines in her Mumma’s eyes. J

So it would seem, what with Jays ambition to become a TV presenter, (is 30 too early to experience a mid-life crisis?! Haha!) that I’m the only one in this household that isn’t destined for fame. And that’s fine by me. Except that it might be a little late to suddenly declare myself the shy and retiring wall-flower-type.

I just saw an ad for our TV show and nearly wet myself. I’d sort of forgotten we were going to be on the telly. Until I just sat getting my Fairy Gok Mother Fix, as I do every Tuesday, and suddenly saw a whole bunch of people I recognise, in HD on our tv in our living room. Oh god.

The series starts next week on Channel4. That means that next week people will be able to add it to their Sky+ planners if they wish. And they’ll be able to series link it. And then people, all sorts of people, will be able to watch it. And people that I don’t even know will probably see me cry on telly. Bugger. It’s going to be like that scene from Bridget Jones, when she slides down that Fireman’s pole and knocks the cameraman out with her arse. Oh the shame.

Of course our episode isn’t on for a few weeks yet, and it’s the only one I don’t want to watch. I’ll definitely tune-in to see the experiences of our fellow contestants, we made some wonderful friends of both the other families and the villagers of Grassington, so I’m looking forward to seeing familiar faces on our screens. Yet when it comes to our own episode I’m not so keen. In fact I’d quite like to forbid family and friends from watching it, to save us from the embarrassment. Alas I know they won’t pay any attention. Naughty bunch that they all are.

Instead Jay and I have decided to throw a little Premiere party and invite a bunch of our nearest and dearest over to watch the show with us. That way, we figured, they won’t be able to poke fun at us behind our backs, and we can get the whole ordeal over and done with nice and quickly, like pulling off a plaster.

I’d love to tell you that I’ll write again before the show airs, but that’s probably not true. Not unless I receive a maid for my birthday or something. I’m just not able to find the time at the mo. But that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of you, sweet blog.

Please do keep in touch with me though. I’m a twit. That is I am a Twitterer. You know, I tweet and stuff. So you can follow me if you like? (Go on! I’ll tweet funny stuff, i promise!) and of course you can catch me on Facebook too!

I’ll be 27 by the time I blog next. So expect very mature stuff in the future ;-) Haha or perhaps not :-/

Love and best wishes to all,

Steph x

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Mama Do 19/01/2010
 
Pregnancy is broken up into lots of different phases. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.

First there’s the ‘morning sickness’ phase. The title of which is such a false pretence for something that lasts ALL DAY.

Then there’s the ‘glowing phase’ - when a pregnant woman starts to show evidence of the extra pounds she has gained since being granted permission to scoff for England. And the extra weight makes the plumper woman sweat a little. And we say, ‘My aren’t you glowing!’ because we can’t say, ‘my god you’re so sweaty!’ to a hormonal woman.

Next you have the ‘nesting phase’ whereby the, now, extremely fat and sweaty woman makes a feeble attempt at a little housework, when the reality of the situation dawns upon her and she realises that perhaps she should have done a little tidying and washing once or twice in the previous 8 months after all.

And then there’s the phase that the books don’t tell you about. The one phase I don’t remember being warned of. It’s a secret phase you see. I’ll probably be frowned upon by authors of all pregnancy guide-books world-wide for sharing it with you. But it does indeed exist. And it usually occurs right before your bundle of joy comes *flying out.

I don’t know what its scientific name is, but I call it the ‘FREAK-OUT phase.’

The FREAK OUT phase, as if you need me to explain, pretty much does what it says on the, er, tin. In that it’ll make you, er, freak out.

Of course, there are variations of the phase. No two women will ever experience the same level of ‘freaking-out-ness’ for example. For some it’ll be horrendous. Like that point on a rollercoaster when you are slowly creeping to the highest peak, aware now that the height of the ride is much more impressive than it looked from the safety of the ground. You’re gradually reaching the point of no-return and any moment now you are to be plunged into the depths of the unknown. Spiralling into a series of stomach-churning, knuckle-whitening, thrilling and sickening loops. And there is a chance, just a chance, that you might not make it out the other side.

My own experience of the FREAK-OUT phase was not quite as bad as that, (thank god, cos the older I get, the more I like to keep my feet firmly in my shoes on the ground,) but it was scary all the same.

When I reached the point of no-return, when it became apparent that I was about to become somebody’s Mum, I did what I always do when there’s a crisis. I made a cuppa and then I wrote a blog.

You see I was frightened, not of being a Mother, but of losing my identity as an actual person. I wanted to be a Mum, but I wanted to be a Steph too. And I didn’t know you could do both.

This is yet another piece of advice that I wish I could have shared with my former self, it would have saved such a panic (and thousands of calories in chocolate and ice cream to help cure me from the effects of my ‘Freak-out’ phase.)

Cos I now know that there is no such thing as just a Mum.

A Mum, is a woman who has at least one child or more. She has nice neat hair and wears an apron. (This is my blog and therefore my interpretation.) She is very wise and kind, and insists on ‘teeth-brushed-before-bed.’ That’s a Mum.

I don’t own an apron. Not yet anyway. And my hair is very rarely neat. (It’s long, thick and there’s masses of it, so it’s usually sitting in a scruffy top-knot at the nape of my neck, in case you were wondering.) I am very wise and very kind, but I normally forget to remind my child to brush her teeth before bed. Because I am a Mum, but I am also a Steph. And ‘Steph’s’ can be scatty creatures from time to time.

I wish I wasn’t quite so scatty though. Because there is such a lot that occurs in this house on a day-to-day basis that I would love to have tattooed firmly in my mind for all eternity. Alas my scatty brain destroys most short-term memories to make space for gaining new knowledge. And I find myself forgetting such a lot of good stuff.

Lorelei lost her first tooth last week (not because I forgot to remind her to brush it, I hasten to add!) And  it was the highlight of her little life (spanning just shy of 6 years) so far. Honestly I have never seen her beam with such pride before. For hours she carried her tiny tooth around with her, to show it to all and sundry and later she began to refer to her ‘gap’ as though it were a new friend or something.

‘I can’t believe today is going to be my first day at school with a gap!’ she explains happily, her little tongue visible through the new hole, ‘I bet some of the children won’t even recognise me!’

Lorelei and her gap have been getting along famously ever since. Even though the Tooth Fairy very nearly forgot to come and leave a pound (still the going rate, you would have thought it would have increased by now?!) under her pillow.

(The tooth fairy as aforementioned is very scatty and adding to this was drinking lots of champagne at a wedding, when said tooth wobbled it’s way out  . . . Such a naughty tooth fairy she is.)

Well anyway, would you believe it, Lorelei’s baby brother has managed to cut his first ever tooth in the same week that Lolly lost hers and, what’s more, Leo’s first tooth is growing in the exact spot where Lori’s new gap is! I realise this may not sound nearly as thrilling to you as it is to me, but I wanted to document it anyway.

I love my role as a Mumma, it's a job and a journey that goes so well with being a 'Steph' too. I love those children more than i could express and I don't wanna miss a thing.

X

 

 

 
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1 year has passed, and with it my life seems to have been catapulted into an entirely new dimension. One that is worlds away from where I was last year.

I married my best friend and he landed himself a new job, and they were the only two positive things to have happened in 2008. The rest, I concluded this time last year, was all negative, traumatic and sad, and would be filed away in the back of my mind in a box marked, ‘bollocks’ - which I would only ever open again when I felt the unusual urge to make myself suicidal or something.

2009 had to be better. It couldn’t get much worse. And though the year before had virtually erased every ounce of faith from my heart and soul I found myself beginning this, the 25th year of my life, with a weeny flicker of hope. Hope that began to glow and glow until eventually it illuminated my entire world and soaked me in a warm light of happiness.

I’ve loved almost every single second of 2009. It’s been the most positive year of my life so far and truth be told, I don’t really want it to end.

So much has altered. So many minor things and so many major things.

Of course the safe arrival of my son, Leonardo, has been a major highlight. The taste of which has been all that sweeter after sampling the bitterness of losing his brother Harry last year.

Harrisons journey from bump to butterfly was never in vain, it taught us all to love and appreciate one another so much more and it reminded us that life, for us, is all about family, friends and looking out for one another.

When we moved house at the end of 2008 we didn’t know a single soul. We’d moved to start afresh, to be a little closer to Jay’s new job and settle somewhere where the pain and memories of sadness weren’t around us every waking moment. We moved again this year, after having a small house fire a few months ago, but we’re still in the same village and our neighbours and the local community have become our friends.

We’ve met some truly wonderful people. I’m so grateful for that.

Having my book published last month is another highlight of course. It’s a dream come true. I can’t help but feel extreme satisfaction at the thought that I was able to take so many negative and traumatic experiences and turn them into something so positive. And my copy of my book now takes pride of place here on my desk in my office. Every time I catch glimpse of it I’m awash with the same kind of pride I feel when I watch my children playing.

2009 hasn’t all been rosy though, we’ve lost a number of loved ones this year. Jay has had to say a tragic farewell to both his Nanny and his Auntie, and between us we also lost an extremely valuable member of our family, our beloved dog, Mr. T.

So there are certainly more stars in the sky now and it pains us not to have them here with us, alas it is a comfort to know that there are others up there helping to take care of my baby boy in heaven.

Mr. C and I have plans to bid farewell to 2009 in style, we’re getting glammed up, consuming the last of the Crimbo booze and are off to flirt with Lady Luck at a Casino in town. How lovely it would be to begin the New Year with a little extra dosh in our sky rockets :-) I plan to let my hair down, (actually strictly speaking that’s not true, I plan on having my hair up tonight, but you know what I mean,) and will be putting my tiny fears aside for the night.

You see for a gal that doesn’t ‘do’ change, it’s gonna be a tough feat for me to let go of the past of which I tend to cling. I’m apprehensive. I know it’s only a day’s difference in the grand scheme of things and that tomorrow probably won’t feel any different to today, (though perhaps tomorrow will bring with it a hangover, as January 1st normally does,) but I’m frightened that with 2009 drawing to an end our new found happiness mightn’t last. I think I’m suffering from ‘Too good to be true’ syndrome.

Just how much happiness is a person allowed?

Ah well, Jay promises it’s only going to get better next year. And I have to believe him. He’s never let me down before.

So here’s hoping, darling friends, family and followers, that 2010 is a joyful, fun and fortune-filled year for us all!

Happy New Year all.

Here’s to the future :-)

Steph x x x

 
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Somebody has stolen my hot water. And it isn’t funny because I really want to get in the tub, I need to wash my hair before Santa comes, (Santa doesn’t bring presents to dirty girls.) 

I hadn’t intended on writing tonight, I thought I would be frantically wrapping pressies and tidying the house as is the norm for me at this time of the year. However, (and I don’t wanna count my chickens early and all that) something miraculous has happened. I seem to have Christmas and all the preparations in the bag already ;-)

I don’t know how I did it. I’ve got Steph Flu and everything. Yet despite my poorliness and despite the snow, which is still settled and glistening all over our neck of the woods, I managed to complete mission Christmas with more speed and efficiency than Anneka Rice on speed. And I’m not even wearing a shell-suit.

The pressies are sitting pretty in their newly acquired gift wrap and bows, and the kitchen now houses many a festive treat. The Fridge is full of baileys and beers, the mistletoe hung, the stockings ready, all that is missing is the main man himself. Who of course won’t be coming unless I clean my hair. I hope who ever stole my hot water returns it soon. 

Whilst I am waiting patiently for the emulsion boiler thingy to kick in, (is this right?!) I thought I’d come pay you a visit.

This is my darling son Leo’s first Christmas. Of course he knows very little of the season to be jolly, though he tends to be pretty jolly most of the time anyway, I’ve just tucked him into bed, his little face grinning from ear to ear. He likes to kick the covers off in order to watch is exasperated Mumma tuck him in over and over again. Tis a game he has become rather fond of, he giggles the entire time. Cheeky boy.

I can’t help but think of his big brother at the moment. Especially since we would have been celebrating Harry’s first birthday in 2 days time, if he had have been born on time. I only hope that wherever he is, he’s safe and happy, and that he knows how much his Mumma loves him.

That’s the thing about Christmas, it magnifies ones life and highlights the important things, the things we’ve achieved, the things we haven’t,  those we’ve loved and those we’ve lost. It’s no wonder so many people suffer at this time of year. 

I am looking at my own life in such a positive light though, I know I’ll see my baby boy again someday, but until then I’m enjoying what I do have. I can’t believe I’ve been blessed with two gorgeous, angelic children, I must have done something really good in a previous life to have them. 
 
Material presents aside I am feeling very lucky this year, even if Santa doesn’t come I reckon I’ve already got the greatest gifts I could hope to achieve and I don’t care how corny that sounds.

As well as the Crimbo decorations, and the newly acquired crystals, candles and other bits and bobs we purchased when we decorated the living room the other week, we have two new additions to the lounge. Two rather massive glass awards with Jay’s name on them ;-)

On Saturday night my extremely deserving husband was promoted from Area Sales Manager to Senior Sales Manager. And not just because he’s getting old either ;-) He’s worked his derriere off this year to ensure that the team he manages have risen above the rest and I’m so proud of him.

So proud. Couldn’t be prouder. Very happy for him. Really very happy. *But also a teeny, weeny, tiny bit jealous. :-/

Don’t be outraged. I know I sound ridiculous. I don’t mean to be jealous it’s just that, well, I’ve never won an award before. 

Seriously 26 years on this planet and the closest thing I’ve ever got to an award was the little medal that they give out to everyone that takes part in the Race For Life.

My chosen occupation can be very lonely. It’s just me and my laptop, and my laptop never tells me when I’ve written something good, (though is very quick to put a red squiggly line under any mistakes I might make!) so you see? No team work, no Christmas Do’s in lavish hotels and no awards ceremony. 

As much as I love writing I can’t help but be green with envy. (or is that dirt?! Oh where the hell is my hot water?!!)

Sunday morning,  whilst I was feeling incredibly fragile owing to the Steph Flu and also the amount of alcohol consumed on Saturday night, Jay returned from his 5 star Christmas Do and proudly displayed the awards he’d won, and I smiled and cried at the same time.

I told him how very proud and very jealous I was and explained to him how I longed to be presented with an award of my own. 

And the moment that succeeded this was one I shall never erase from my heart.

Footsteps tinkered down the hall and rustling could be heard in my bedroom before my little princess returned to the living room and instructed me to close my eyes. 

Obligingly I held out my hands and closed my eyes, and when I opened them again I found myself presented with my famous red heels. The same pair I wore in the photo for the front cover of my book.

Tears in my eyes I glanced back to my sweet daughter, her face lit with excitement. And watched in awe as she started to clap her little hands. 

‘To you Mummy,’ she said in her little high-pitched voice, ‘your award for being the best Mummy and Writer in the world.’

And my heart melted then and there.

Okay so I’ve not quite conquered all in my world. I’m not yet the greatest writer on earth (a girl can dream though,) and I’m not yet worthy of an award of my very own, but I am, in the big blue eyes of my offspring, the bestest Mummy. And who could ask for more than that?!

Merry Christmas and love to all!

Steph x

 
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