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

 

 

 
Add Comment
 
 
‘I find the Englishman to be him of all men who stands firmest in his shoes.’ - Ralph Waldo Emerson—1860



With a few minor exceptions, (my pronunciation of certain words, and tendency to slip into an Australian accent from time to time for example,) I am, without a doubt, your perfect representation of a typical English Gal.



I drink Tea in a crisis, (though I suspect Vodka would probably be more suitable.) I use irony, tongue-in-cheek and sarcasm to avoid having to directly say what I truly mean and I was born with every lyric in every Madness song already etched in my mind.



But I think the real tell-tale sign of my heart and soul belonging to Blighty is my irrational, and slightly odd obsession with the weather.



You see we English cannot conduct a conversation without a mention, no matter how brief, of the current climate conditions. It’s the Law in England.



Perhaps it’s because the weather here, in our part of the world, is one of the few elements in our lives that is ever-changing and so unpredictable? I don’t know. And right now I haven’t time to analyse. Because currently, at this very moment, as I type furiously, (my nails, irrelevantly, due a manicure,) I find myself in the midst of what can only be described as, a (‘Dun, Dun, Duuuurrrrrnnn’) MET OFFICE EMERGENCY.



There I was, stretched out on the couch, cosy and warm, my toes in my slipper-boots, my head on Jay’s lap when suddenly, my world was turned upside down by a news flash on the telly. I shot up in an instant, fearing the worst, and the upside-down-ness was corrected just in time for the announcement to be made.



A very important-looking lady, in very expensive lipstick, told us, in a very official tone that and I quote, ‘a warning has been issued.’



Snow is coming.



For some it has already arrived, though for us, here in the East Midlands, only a light, fluffy blanket of the white-stuff can be seen. Yet that is all set to change, according to the Weather Man. Yup. Over-night our pad is expected to be transported to the Antarctic.



Up to 40 cms of snow could greet us in the morning, if the weather reports are precise. I cannot claim to be fully aware of exactly how much 40 cms is, of course, as I was taught the metrics system by a boy, but it does sound a lot, quite impressive really, if it wasn’t such a crisis.



‘The trouble with the UK is that we’re never prepared for anything,’ we exclaim to one another, ‘When it’s hot we fall to pieces, when it’s freezing we fall to pieces.’ We tut. ‘The only country to be at a stand-still just because of the weather!’ We shake our heads, united in our disbelief that the Government have yet to find a solution to sufficiently deal with the British Weather. But it’s true. We run outta grit for our roads. Our trains derail, lorries crash, airports close. And all because fluffy, pretty cold stuff has fallen from the sky. And you’d think by now we’d figure out how to handle it.



I can’t really talk though. Cos I’m not prepared either. I was supposed to go food shopping tonight. Other than a couple of selection boxes and some dry-roasted peanuts left over from Crimbo, our kitchen cupboards are in a bit of a sorry state at the mo. Of course had I known it was coming, the snow, I would have hot-footed it to town this evening to stock up on tinned goods and toilet roll, torches and sleeping bags, candles and gas canisters and er, all the other stuff you need when a Warning is Issued.



Alas by the time I got wind of the Issued Warning it was too late. All the shops were shut. Only the 24hour Tesco’s in Wellingborough is open at this time of night and Jay won’t let me drive there was we have a headlight that’s out on our car. (Of course the Police will have more important issues to contend with, since we are in the midst of a MET OFFICE EMERGENCY, yet I cannot be bothered to argue with him.) He says we can go to the shop and stock up in the morning, of course he’s wrong. When the snow comes we won’t be able to get out of our drive, let alone into town.  Silly Man. I’ve made a mental note, to reserve this rare error of judgement for use in all future arguments between my husband and I ;-)



We could be snowed in here for weeks. Who knows? I’m wondering if I was a little too hasty in switching off the news in order to check the house for supplies now. But the weather man had lost my attention. He started going on about the ‘science behind the snow-fall’ and by that point I had already been whipped into a dramatic frenzy and was far too concerned with the survival kit to attempt to understand the scientific stuff. If I’d been a little more attentive the weatherman might have offered an estimation on how long this snow crisis might last?



Still must be very grateful for abundance of tea-bags and sugar in the pots at the very least. Lol ;-)



No business like snow business ;-)



Enjoy and take care!



Steph x x x
Subscribe
4 Comments