Nappy Changing

One word: Terrifying.

My first nappy-induced panic attack came even before my baby. It was at my baby shower and was a baptism of fire. We were playing a game which involved changing and dressing a doll's nappy against the clock.

If you know me, you'll know I was never really child-friendly. I hated when people came at me with their kids and I had to act all interested and maternal.

I just never knew how to act in the presence of a baby.  Do I talk to it? How do I talk to it? Is there any point? And god forbid you would ask me to hold it. The pressure. I was literally a big bag of awkward.

 Excuse the quality of the photo, from my baby shower. The fear on my face.

My friends and family knew this, so the games at the baby shower were pretty much designed to stress me out (as far as I can see.) I left that day with a million gifts and the hope that they would teach you the very basics at the antenatal classes. They don't.

Things were looking up after Lyla was born, when the mid-wife cleaned her up and dressed her for me. All was well until Jamie was sent home and I was brought back to the ward with the baby. Panic set in.

I rang the bell for the mid-wife who was up to her eyes. When she arrived, I came clean and told her I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and that I probably shouldn't be left in charge of this tiny human. With a knowing smile, she assured me that it'd be grand. I wasn't so sure.

An example of my shoddy nappy work

Lyla slept the whole night (the first and last time for that to happen!) while I hovered nervously, checking to see if she was still breathing every 22 seconds or so. The next morning I watched in panic as the doctors went around to check over the newborns. I just kept thinking I've been rumbled. They will take one look at how I put her nappy on and know I have no idea what I'm doing. They would judge me and think I'm a terrible mother. I mean who can't put a nappy on?

Bizarrely, the didn't voice any such concerns. And after my fifteenth nappy that same day, I had kind of developed a knack.

An example of my seasoned nappy work

I actually began to kind of enjoy it (in most circumstances.) And I especially relished watching the fear etched on Jamie's face when he stepped up to the plate. I felt like a combat veteran watching a new recruit tentatively taking their first steps onto the battlefield. 'You'll be fine Marine. Just remember: 'Know the enemy' and 'Preperation is key'.

I'd have more war medals than I could fit on my chest if that were the case after some almighty poonamis and unexpected guerrilla battles, but I have developed from that raw recruit into someone who is ready for (almost) any challenge and who secretly looks forward to the odd explosion or two.

I've kind of gotten lost in a metaphor, but what I'm trying to say is I no longer fear The Nappy.

Gorilla Coat's & Shiny Skirt's

It has taken a while, but I finally think I'm getting to a place where I can feel somewhat stylish again.

Dressing while pregnant was tough. I never got into maternity clothes, mainly because they all seemed to be aimed at 37 year old office workers, but also (really) because Zara don't have a maternity section.

Luckily, for the first 6 months of pregnancy I snugly fit into my pre-pregnancy clobber.
Then I ballooned and it got tough. I struggled and most of my outfits resembled Homer Simpson's Muumuu. (BTW I googled it, and apparently that is how you spell Muumuu! Who knew?!)

Post-pregnancy, I could fit into my old clothes again, but something just didn't feel right about wearing them. I can't quite put my finger on what it was but I guess it was my changed body shape coupled with lack of confidence to pull them off.

Recently though, I've really starting to enjoy putting outfits together again. I'm learning what suits my new body shape and generally not feeling as self-conscious about my appearance, although the bags under my eyes remain an issue for me (no sign of them going away!)

So here is hopefully the first of many more #whatimwearing / #mamastyle posts, with Lyla included because it just feels weird getting in a photo without her now.

Now the weather is improving I can get back to wearing skirts, dresses and my beloved crop tops. This a favourite of mine. From Urban Outfitters about 3 years ago, I wear it non-stop. Over dress's, under dresses, with high waisted jeans, and my favourite, high waisted midi skirts. 
The coat is Zara, as is the skirt. Both bargains I picked up in the sales. The boots are another bargain from Penny's, and perfect for strolling around town with a buggy, or in our case going on unintentional massive walks all around Dublin because we can't decide where we want to stop for coffee.

 I'm so awkward at posing that Jamie likes to throw things at me (in this case his shoe) to get me moving

 Lyla had shoes on but decided last minute she hated wearing shoes

xx

Week 42

The art of movement. Elusive and yet so compelling.

I'm almost 10 months old so I decided I best get going on the ol' moving. My Dad's Playstation has been calling out to me from across the room. Lots of wires for pulling, new surfaces to scratch and twisty things for twisting. Every girl's dream.

It's about four toy lengths away from my playmat, and I've been plotting my route for a week or so now. I was going to sketch out a map, but then I scrunched up the paper because scrunching is soooo much fun.

So when Mom was distracted last week, I decided my moment had arrived. I've developed a technique I've been calling 'The Bumshuffle,' which involves...well, involves shuffling one's bum along the floor. While Mom was playing with her shiny toys in the sink with the bubbles (which she loves doing!), I made my break.

Within a couple of shuffles, I had reached the Promised Land. Man, oh man, that Playstation. It was everything I hoped and more.

Emboldened by this new ability to discover the world, I've been weighing up where I might go next. Some of my pals have a different technique, called 'crawling' I think, and Mom keeps telling me to try it, but I'm not so sure.

Just for a lol sometimes, I pretend I'm going to crawl to get her excited, and just as she sits up, I drop back onto my bum. It's lol.com. She falls for it every time.

So, she's going away this weekend, and I'm going to stay in my Nanna's. She has loads of cool things for scratching and scrunching, so I think I might just give crawling a whirl. A little holiday treat, you know yourself?!

I'll let you guys know what happens. If you can keep up with me. LOL.

xxx

Wearing my official 'Award For Bravery' sticker after a blood test this week

Update: I wrote this last week, but my mom was too sick (*cough* lazy) to post it. Decided to keep them all hanging on a little longer. 

Baby Brain

Baby Brain.
I got it, I got it bad.


When you become a parent, something happens to your memory. You can recall, word-for-word, every baby article and book you've read, and every baby fact the Internet throws at you, no matter how relevant or unbelievable. You remember every moment, every development and every poo-nami(!)

And a million funny stories to accompany each memory, like the time your baby ended up in Ikea wearing a scarf as a dress and gloves on her legs. Yeah.

Adding all this new information obviously pushes other stuff though.

For me, that other stuff is everyday, basic stuff. Like the abilities to make a cup of tea, remember names or do grocery shopping. I can often be found standing in a room staring blankly, trying desperately to recall why I was there.

The reason for my memory loss

So I have a kind of system, based on lists, reminders on my phone and the oft-spoken phrase 'remind me to...' My secret weapon is repeating what I have to do under my breath until it is done. So if you ever run into me, and I'm chanting 'Bins...Bins...Bins...' you'll might understand why.


I kind of thought that by now, with Lyla being 10 months old, I'd be back to normal, or is this is the new normal? Do all mams have terrible short-term memories?


The jury is still out on whether baby brain actually exist. I imagine it is actually a by-product of exhaustion, the busyness of parenthood, and the crazy hormones.

Its not the end of the world, but a couple of extra GB of memory wouldn't go amiss.

So to all the people I've called the wrong name, or haven't texted back, or that don't get the same hair colour off me twice in a row, I apologise. Please forgive me, my mind is simply in overdrive trying to decide whether Lyla should have banana or blueberries with her porridge.

Week 41

This week I have mostly been clapping. All day. And all night.
Mam-mam sings "Clap hands till Daddy comes home, with sweets in his pocket for Lyla alone."
Well, Daddy's home and I'm still clapping. And those sweets have yet to materialise.

I usually applaud when Dada enters the room but I think I'll stop as he's getting a big head.

I also made a new friend this week. Holly and I have known each other a while now but we never really got to chat because our moms just never. stop. talking.

I didn't know how I felt about having friends forced upon me, but when she pulled her socks off to have as a mid-morning snack, I knew we were kindred spirits.