It’s A Small World After All

The world is a strange place right now. In the grip of a global pandemic that has the potential to threaten all of our lives.

The best advice is to self isolate, protect yourself, protect those you love and by virtue of sensible action, protect vulnerable strangers. To say a grateful prayer for the nurses, doctors and key workers the world over working with all of their heart and soul to keep us well, keep us safe and help us find a way out to the other side.

To not be one of the idiots clearing supermarket shelves, or taking your entire family out for a day trip in the aisles.

We keep hearing the phrase unprecendented times and though it might be starting to grate, it couldn’t be more true. The world has never faced something of this scale. We’ve survived World Wars, people have lived through nuclear war and terrorist attacks. And yet, we don’t seem to be grasping the sheer importance of staying home. Even in a week when Disney+ was launched, we seem determined to get out and endanger life, simply because we’re being told not to. We cannot be surprised a lockdown has been forced upon us and honestly, the stupidity and selfishness of people at large is starting to scare me more than the virus itself.

My family & I are personally 2 weeks into a suggested 12 week shielding isolation, because both my pregnancy and cerebral palsy apparently place me at a higher risk, so the three of us have bunkered down, basically for the sake of our two children. I don’t think the grade of my cerebral palsy puts me at increased risk because I am fortunate not to have any of the common secondary conditions, like respiratory issues, but we absolutely would rather be safe than sorry.

So there’s no more nursery for Squidge, no playgroups, no gym, no trips to the park. Kev & I are working from home and Netflix & Paw Patrol are babysitting a lot. I feel a lot of guilt, but it’s almost comforting to know we’re not the only ones facing this. I do feel sorry for Squidge most of all, the lack of routine is not fair to her. I will be glad to get that back.

But, I am learning a lot.

There’s not been enough work to work my full days so the childcare has in the most part fallen to me. Kev comes down to play with Squidge and share meals as often as he can. It is so nice to be able to have breakfast together every day and it is certainly something I will want to maintain for our weekends.

It has been so lovely to sit with Squidge and play games, to draw rainbows for the windows, to count all the Stay Safe rainbows out in the community on our daily walks.

I am home a lot anyway given that I worked from home before all this to maintain my health and my world already existed within a small radius of our town, so that I could feel confident and independent. It may not be everyone’s choice when the world is at a normal capacity, but it works for me. Now that the world has been forced to slow down for the greater good, I guess they’re seeing more what my world is like. I mean, I can’t say that everyone appears to be enjoying it, but it’s more of a reality now.

Suddenly, I don’t need to feel so guilty for living in my small world. The whole world is suddenly small. My own personal universe is required to exist within the walls of my home, extending on sunny days out to our backyard, all for the good of ourselves and others.

It’s kinda nice not being able to be frivolous. I mean, I try to be savvy anyway, but there’s nowhere to go right now! I’m not going to lie, I did get a wholesale box of chocolate delivered, so please think of me when I go in for gestastional diabetes test in a few months! It’s nice to have more money in my pocket, so I’m overpaying our mortgage a little more. Like most people, we’re probably being forced to spend more money on our groceries, but that’s pretty much all, but suddenly you learn all the things you already have, the things you can make do without. It no longer makes a difference if I get my hair done every 3 months. In fact, I’m letting it grow out during the isolation so that there’s less work to do when the world goes back to normal. I’m about to be a mum to 2 children, possibly whilst still under all the necessary restrictions of this panemic. My roots are going to be the last damn thing I care about.

Part of me hope that a lot of people out there are reassessing what’s important. This isn’t a lecture, I’m a consumer like the rest of us, but in a time when it’s getting harder by the day to name the positives, it’s nice to know the environment is being given some kind of breather whilst we’re forced to be at home. My home is important, because it is my own and I am lucky to have it. So, whilst it’s possible, the mortgage is important. My nice fluffy blankets are important. My Headspace subscription is important. Clearing the house out ready for the baby is important.

Very few things outside of my little world (besides extended family and the restoration of Squidge’s routine) will continue to be important when some level of sanity and calm is restored in the world. That in itself feels very freeing.

I am almost 20 weeks pregnant now. In some ways, that’s a relief, in other ways it makes me sad. When I dreamt of having a second, I wanted to prioritise myself, my health and enjoy a calm pregnancy. In fact, two of the most pivotal people in my family have had extended hospital stays and now the whole world is at risk from a virus I have to hide from for the sake of them all.

Next week, I will be forced to attend my scan alone, because partners are not permitted to minimise the risk of coronavirus spread and even then, Kev would not be able to attend because we have no support network since Kev’s parents went into isolation for their own health at the same time as us, hence there will be no-one to care for Squidge. There is nothing to be done, but we are both gutted. We wanted to discover our baby’s gender together. Now, however, if it can be determined, I will find out before the father and sister of the baby, the two most important people they will ever know. I have arranged gender reveal surprises for them, but out of necessity rather than anything, because I really dislike the conceit surrounding the tradition of reveals. But I don’t expect anyone to care about the news other than Baby’s family.

My hips are starting to ache a little more and I feel a bit more vulnerable when moving, but I keep remembering the struggle of carrying Squidge and I am thankful most days that my physical self has withstood this pregnancy, especially with all the emotional challenges we have faced instead. I fully intend to single-handedly keep both my physiotherapist and massage therapist in business when my isolation is able to end, because I miss them terribly, as do all my muscles!

I sincerely hope that everyone in a similar position to me is prioritising themselves, taking care of themselves and remembering to breathe. I forget this often and as stress build, my God can I feel it translate in my body. This is an entirely new scenario for us all to live amongst, but remember that that’s true for us all. That means you’re not alone. Keep busy, but take things slow. Much like I wanted my stay-at-home mum lufe to be, there is no sense of time anymore, there is literally no rush. Right now, all we have is time. Use it to look after yourself and make yourself your priority. If we’re not looking after ourselves, we’ll not be able to do our best for others, those who probably need us more than ever whilst the world is on its head.

So let’s go for the little things, the simple pleasures and let the rest fall away. The world will speed up again, it will get big again. Let’s take some comfort in the peace of this small world. It cannot last forever.

Stay safe.

I wish I didn’t have to tell you how much Mummy hurts

You’re still my baby. For all your confidence and independence, you are my baby and I am the mummy. It is my job and my privilege to take care of you.

My heart is happiest when we have days like this in the park… I wish you could know how beautiful you are my little sunshine.

But we haven’t made it to the park today. As I write, you’re napping on the sofa beside me, Freddie tucked up under your head. You’re so peaceful.

I’m not. Working from home without all the trappings of adjustable screen risers and chairs is taking its toll… one I didn’t even think to expect. That happens to me a lot now and I’m getting more and more frustrated. It’s horrible having no understanding of your own body. It’s so unfair.

My back has been in constant spasm. I didn’t even understand that I suffered muscle spasms at all until recently. My back has been constantly tense, my muscles feel solid and useless. Every little movement hurts today and it has made me feel a terrible mummy.

I couldn’t lift you up… even when you asked so politely with your please and thank you. You couldn’t understand why because you’re so small and you’re still learning. But the pressure of you asking continually made me burst into tears.

You understand what it means to cry now and tried to distract me with songs and games and shouts of “Mummy!” You have such a big heart, darling girl. I tried very hard to stop crying… for you.

But it breaks my heart that I will have to explain to you so many times and in so many ways as you get older all the things that Mummy finds hard… and harder.

I don’t want you to hate my differences. And the only way I can expect that to be what you learn is if I teach you. So I have to learn not to hate them either. But oh, when they sneak up on me like this, a nasty little reminder that I am not in control of my own body, it gets so hard.

So I’m so sorry if I shouted Squidge, or if I made you feel sad. Mummy is struggling today. Because I so wish I didn’t have to share this pain with you. Today I could not hide it.

I’m sorry we couldn’t go to the park.

“Mummy, I’m alright!”

This is Freddie. Freddie is the most loved Fox there ever was.

Freddie came into Squidge’s life when she was just a few weeks old, my own best friend introducing my baby girl to her own best friend. I love that. I love that Squidge loves someone else so much.

He comes with her everywhere at the moment. He came with us to the playground opposite our house. She pushed him lovingly back and forth on the swing until, inevitably “Freddie glide!” (Slide, of course!)

Squidge has always been so confident physically, very rarely is she willing to accept help. And I love that confidence, I want her to have it always.

But because she was so determined that beloved Freddie should enjoy the experience too and she would not let him go, she lost her previously confident footing on the suspended stepping stones.

I know every parent experiences the horror of slow motion. I saw her fall before she did and cursed my body for not reacting in time as she sobbed in shock.

I bundled her into my arms and checked her over, horror and tears coarsing through me. I had never seen her actually hurt herself before. I called Kev instinctively as I soothed her, convinced we’d be going to A&E.

As it rang, I asked Squidge where she hurt. She’d fallen forwards about three feet and I was terrified she’d say “head” or worse, nothing at all because I’d allowed her to be so damaged she couldn’t remember.

“Chiiiiin!” She wailed. I personally have split my own chin open twice so was terrified to look where she pointed. But there wasn’t so much as a graze. The sobbing subsided (from Squidge at least!) and Kev, thank God, was calm.

“I can’t even hear her crying.”

“She is!” I insisted as she wriggled out of my arms.

“What’s she doing right now?”

As I remained a tearful, guilty wreck on the floor, I dared to look up. And not only had our beautiful, brave, confident girl climbed back up onto the slide; when she saw me looking, she called out reassuringly “Mummy, I’m alright.”

And so Squidge and Freddie played on until she could be tempted away with an offer of tea and an episode of “Money” (aka Tipping Point) and I was amazed and humbled by the utter resilience in someone so small.

The guilt made my stomach wrench as my baby cried but that baby, she consoled me. Never have I been so reassured of the good job I am doing as a parent.

Mummy sees you’re alright Squidge. I think you’ve got this, baby one.

Acting Your Age

Strangely enough, this post is about me, not the Squidgelet. She’s having no problem acting her age. She is great most of the time – She sweetly says “Please Mummy” whenever she wants to steal some of my breakfast & “Thank you Mummy!” mostly unprompted when I hand over said breakfast that I probably didn’t need to eat anyway.

And then there are the fantastic tantrums. They wash over me now because it’s not worth getting frustrated at a little person coming to terms with the surge in their own emotions. I’m worse than that. I tend to find them funny – my favourite so far being when she threw herself onto her bedroom floor utterly distraught and screaming because we wouldn’t allow her “Caaaaaake!” before bedtime. (Definitely my daughter people!)

It’s me struggling. I’m 30 next year. All around me, people are living. Maybe not their best lives but their lives are still full of energy. I meanwhile, am exhausted and fear living like a pensioner many years before my time.

I got up just after 7am today because my eyes sprang open as soon as the Squidgelet called. I haven’t slept in properly in weeks and I rarely sleep through either. I went to the hairdressers to get my hair done in time for our holiday and then I went and grabbed some bits from the supermarket. I was home by 2:30 – and yawning. I fell asleep sitting on the sofa which I only realised when my elbow lurched off my knee meaning my chin was no longer propped up. And why… Why am I so shattered?

Kev asked if I wanted to go nap which is a sensible question for me now. I refused… not because of the stubbornness of old but because… what’s the point? Unlike the other 29 year olds out there, I have no sodding use for any scrimped for energy. There’s no Saturday drinks and dancing heading my way is there? My energy’s too spent on getting through each day for invitations like that to still be coming my way.

And I understand. There’s only so long that you can flog a dead horse after all. Problem is, I worry I might be the dead horse… just with another 40 or 50 years of this utter exhaustion before I’m actually dead and done. It’s such a sad and scary prospect.

My little girl is going to be grown up and gone before I know. And I worry my energy will be all gone by then… Maybe taking my friends with it. They have been so understanding… They always say “Oh… life gets in the way.” But it does… more than I think they know. And I’m just not sure how to be OK with a body that conspires against me. I miss fun.

Still so full of pride

I am currently full of a lot of mum guilt.

I feel like I am not giving the Squidgelet any time at the moment. I’ve spent my days off either working on my uni essay (submitted 3 weeks ahead of time to compensate for our holiday in 2 weeks) or ill and therefore avoiding her.

And germs. Let’s not forget the germs.

Week before last I had norovirus, so the in-laws came and rescued Squidgelet before I could infect her. I woke the poor love up with my vomiting in the bathroom next to her bedroom at 6am. It’s hard to console the concerned calls of “Mumma? Mummy?!” between retching. I was better in time for my big sister’s wedding and Squidge had a blast, running around, dancing to Baby Shark and eating her bodyweight in cake,

But last week, I had physio, which is miles away, very expensive and therefore cannot be missed. It takes nearly a whole day. I recently changed my days at work with good intentions and then realised my physiotherapist is only available on a day I’ve agreed to work. Now, I only go every 8 weeks (see, expensive!) so my boss is not bothered by an infrequent swap but it does mean a day less with my girl every 8 weeks.

And now, just in time for my very first Friday off with Squidge, I’ve caught someone’s cold. I am an absolute germophobe and am enraged by ill people coming into the office. Work from home you selfish [insert favourite swear word here]. So instead, we’re £45 out of pocket sending Squidge to nursery for the day so I can concentrate on sweating out the lurgy in time for the weekend.

Mum guilt sucks.

I feel terrible about going on holiday even. We’re finally going to Cuba – the honeymoon destination Kev picked out for us 3 years ago that was scuppered by Squidge’s very presence in my belly and the threat of the Zika virus. I am really looking forward to it, as it is to be our last “grown up” holiday before we give in to ten years of Butlins and theme parks. Yes, I’m a terrible mother who’s leaving my baby behind. But I’m being very measured about that of course. Not. I’ve reiterated to another of my big sisters that I want her and her partner to raise Squidge alongside their daughter if the plane crashes out of the sky.

Happy holiday everyone!


Mummy madness aside, today, Facebook memories threw up this perfect little gem from one whole year ago.

I never knew pride like it. She’d been cruising and holding our hands from about 8 or 9 months old, but we were just playing on the bedroom floor and she got up and she just did it, like she was made for it. Her confidence (unlike my immune system it seems) has gone from strength to strength.

Squidge really is flourishing. We have a playground on the opposite side of our road and I’ve been bundling my gorgeous girl up in the big warm, winter coat from last year that she’s grown in to and we’ve been kicking and crunching the autumn leaves, I’ve been listening to her shriek with delight as she runs around shouting “Ready! Steady! Go!” at the top of her little lungs. She is so “‘appy!” (That’s our current favourite Squidge-ism!)

She’s been really getting to grips with her alphabet, throwing her alphabet bricks around the lounge when the mood takes her, or calming handing them to you one by one and more often than not, correctly declaring the letter on it. (My favourite is “Ah-oh-woo!” – W!) She did the whole thing flawlessly the other day – Kev was staggered.

And so, while I sit in a million layers, sniffling in front of the fire and feeling sorry for myself, I can take absolute pride in how my little Squidgelet is coming on in the world. And maybe the guilt can lessen a bit because this one is her own person and she is doing just fine. So it’s OK to take care of me too – I’ll be back crunching leaves in no time!