Out with August, In with September..

So, after having an involuntary break from blogging for various reasons, I am back. Woo. Apologies for being absent. A lot has happened in the few short days that have been September and a lot was whizzing around in my brain, so I needed a few days to think about stuff and have a bit of time to myself once the children were sleeping in bed.

The 2nd September saw my 5 year old begin a new school year in Year 1. Thankfully, he and his class have the same teachers as they had in reception so it wasn't much of an upheaval for them as in previous years, but still change in the respect of new class room, new curriculum etc.

My mum and I had a conversation on Friday afternoon. It got me thinking about a lot of things, how you perceive peoples relationships, in daily life and on social media, how they only tell you the good parts and not so much of the bad. How you are lead to believe everyone else is in a perfect bubble of love, with perfect children, no rowing, no voices raised.

I've had a lot of thinking to do over the weekend, and sometimes too much thinking is a bad thing. So, to try and get away from my head and my thoughts, I took the boys and Miss DL up to my mums for the afternoon on Saturday. We had lunch, and took Bella the dog on a walk to the park with my brother and the kids.

Miss DL was in the sling, and whilst the boys were playing with their uncle, I took the opportunity to sit on the swing. I like nothing more than being able to sit with my eyes closed on a swing, feeling the breeze in my hair and letting my mind run free. I held on tight to my daughter, her first time on a swing with mummy, and thought about her, her brothers, fun times we have had and will continue to have over their childhood.

We stayed late, having tea and the kids playing with my cousin who popped in to see them. Having eaten nearly my mums entire cupboard contents, we left happy and with full bellies. I got home with two sleeping youngsters to carry into bed, and their big brother dead on his feet.

Sunday was the day for Master D's swimming lesson. We have to be up, ready and at swimming for 9.15am. It normally involves me trying to watch Master D swim, whilst preventing Master L from doing any damage to himself or the leisure centre, and either getting Miss DL to sleep or feeding her. Fun times.

Today was Master L's first day back at playgroup. He has been asking me for the last week when he would be going back to school, I could finally say it was his day to go! He was so excited bless him. He raced his brother to get his uniform on after breakfast, raced him to the car, and was thrilled when I told him his brother had gone into school so it was his turn next.

After having a lovely morning of peace with Miss DL, involving friends, babies, bacon butties and tea, it was time to pick little legs up from school. He was so happy to see me, and to top it off, we was treated to lunch by his friends mum. Topping off a lovely day I think.

H.x

We survived the summer holidays!!

That's it. The holidays are finally over. Both boys are bathed and finally sleeping in their beds after a fun packed, argument filled summer holidays.

Master D's uniform is all labelled up, ironed and hanging in his wardrobe ready for tomorrow morning, and his school shoes, book bag and PE kit are all by the door with his coat. Master L doesn't return to playgroup until next Monday - something I haven't yet mentioned to him as I know he is expecting to go tomorrow after his brother has been taken to school.

Myself and J took them both to get their hair cut today too. That was an experience in itself. Who would have thought, on a Tuesday at 2pm, barbers shops everywhere (ok, not everywhere, but the ones local to us) would have queues out of the door! More schools are back tomorrow than I had initially thought. Oops.

After a good 35 minute wait, both Master D and Master L came out looking less "orphan Annie" than they did when they went in. Although they have taken Master D's hair a bit shorter than I'd have liked, its a damn good job it grows so quickly!

We have had a lovely summer holiday. My Dad, Step mum and sisters came over at the beginning for a week. We baked cakes, visited a big park where my dad watched Bowls being played, and explained to the boys how to play it. We celebrated my Dads birthday with a nice family meal and generally spent as much time with them as we could.

We have been to lots of local parks, been on walks with Cleo, Master D learnt to ride his bike with no stabilisers and Master L has become a pro on his balance bike. We had a week of swimming school where Master D got his 5m badge, and we have been to endless soft play areas where we met with friends from school.

Two trips to the seaside were enjoyed, with picnics and candyfloss. Ice cream and Ice pops have been eaten until bellies hurt and I can't count how many empty crisp packets I've picked up off the floor. The swimming pool has been up all summer, and although is hasn't been used as a pool much thanks to the great British weather, the boys have still enjoyed using it as a house, a target for catching cars and a jumping obstacle to name but a few.

We have had countless re-runs of Bing and Peppa Pig - starting to hate the sight of both programmes now, after being quite taken with Bing. Not to mention video after video from "Evantube" or Stampy from Minecraft, or Hotwheels cars on a "super fast, brand new, really long" track, before one to many kinder egg surprises being opened. Kill me. Please. If I ever hear that bloke with the annoyingly squeaky voice talking about Minecraft ever again, it will be too soon.

But I would be lying if I say there has been no arguing, tale telling or fighting between the two boys. There has also been endless rows over someone taking a toy when he shouldn't have, or another not playing "properly". Plenty of tears have been spilled over bumped heads and fighting over something menial before playing nicely again for 5 seconds.

I am so, so ready for school to start again. I love my children dearly, and I enjoy spending time with them, but 6 weeks for children so young is far too long. They are getting bored of soft play areas, going to the park is wearing thin, and their trampoline and toys at home are "boring" now too.

I am starting to crave the routine we have when the boys are in school. We are all usually up, eating breakfast by 7.15am, then after a bit of TV (normally Peppa Pig or Bing! which we have recorded - around 70 episodes of each!) we are dressed and ready to leave at 8.25am.

After dropping the boys off at school (8.50am start for Master D, 9am start for Master L) I either come home with Miss DL and have breakfast, or I call to my friends for breakfast/meet in a café.

Generally our week is full of play dates - ok when I say play dates, I mean Master L is in play group, I meet friends with Miss DL who either sleeps or feeds whilst I get to sit down, drink tea and eat cake whilst catching up on the latest gossip/news - before collecting Master L at 12noon. Then we have lunch and more play dates or we go home with the idea of a bit of housework, if it hasn't been done that morning.

We try to fit in a visit or two to my Gran's who we see weekly, I take her shopping, or we just sit and talk, play with the children, and she tries to kill me off with tea and chocolate biscuits. Is it just my Gran who insists on offering you a slice of cake, or a chocolate biscuit, or a fruit scone, with your tea.. every few minutes? She should know, after 24 years, I will always help myself if I wanted something. Thankfully, she wouldn't have it any other way.

With the new academic year starting, with it, brings new challenges to keep us busy. I will be joining Slimming World next week, once Master L is back at playgroup. I have an aim to lose 2st of "breastfeeding weight" that I have piled on purely since feeding Miss DL. I took the advice to "eat full fat everything, and don't say no to a treat" too literal, and ended up eating no less than 1 cake at most sittings.. including after breakfast. It is no surprise that I weigh more now than I did when I was 38 weeks pregnant. Hopefully I will lose it no problem without jeopardising the milk I'm making for Miss DL.

I will also be starting my Breastfeeding Support Worker course towards the end of September. Breastfeeding is something I have found a new an intense love for. I am so eager to begin this course and become a qualified support worker, there to help mums through tough times with their new born babies. And hopefully get a few snuggles with teeny babies too! Its a 14 week course, which will take me through to January, where I will be shadowing a qualified Breastfeeding Support Worker on home visits and onto the wards at my local hospital. I will update you all throughout the course. I cannot wait to learn lots of new things! This will also help towards my university application once I have done my Access to Nursing course in collect next September, as it will all be volunteer work. 

Of course, I will still be keeping up to date with my blog, taking time to wind down and share my life with those who take their time to read it. But for now, I shall leave you all in peace. My date with Ben & Jerry is calling me..

H.x

When baby wipes take over!

You know you're a mum to small children when you have unlimited amounts of baby wipes stashed in every room. There is always a pack or two open and at your disposal should you need one, or two, or three.

To be honest, that could be any time. When you start buying and using baby wipes, they instantly become your go-to cleaning product.

Oh no, they aren't just for wiping your babies cute little tush, the dirty face of your toddler, or their sticky hands that you are certain you've wiped 20 times already today!

Do you see that dirty mark on the wall over there? It's about toddler height. We all know who did it. Go on, grab a baby wipe, give it a little wipe over, and voila, its gone.

Same with the sticky mark on the couch (what is that?!) or the dried in yoghurt on the table. Baby wipes at the ready.

Not to mention the dust on the TV stand that you notice every time you walk past, then forget to grab the polish from under the sink. I mean, who needs furniture polish anyway?!

They're also fabulous for getting your make up off. Well, when you actually have time to wear it. Don't bother with those expensive "anti-ageing, wrinkle preventing, pore cleansing, 100% natural ingredients for refreshingly healthy skin" facial wipes. You know, the ones with a hint of cucumber, that cost you £3.47 for 22 wipes.

And then there is that weird stain on a top that you are sure was clean a minute ago. A little scrub with a baby wipe.. you know the result.

Notice a bit of baby sick on your shoulder just as you've left the house? Baby wipe. Or a bit of mud on your otherwise clean converse? Yep, they're great for cleaning shoes too.

Seriously, baby wipes are your best friend. You'll begin to wonder how you managed without them before your children came along!

Fighting the black cloud of PND.

I have been wanting to write this post for a while, but with something so personal, I wasn't quite sure what to say or how to start it.

I'm starting to find this whole process of blogging quite therapeutic. A bit like a diary, only minus the hand ache you get from writing one, so with that in mind, and a glass of wine in hand, I thought this would be the best time to start. What is there to lose?

I was first diagnosed with Post Natal Depression (PND) around the time my second son was 4 months old. But that was only the official diagnosis. I felt terrible a long time before that.

I remember the day I first felt that feeling of dread, the feeling that so often engulfed me, and sometimes still does. I was sat on a bus home from town, Master L in his pram only a few days old. J was sat next to me, and I remember telling him that around the time your milk comes in is the time your most likely to get signs and symptoms of the "baby blues". He knew my milk had just come in, I'd told him so that morning. I was giving subtle hints on how I felt, knowing full well he wouldn't guess. How could he? I was a moody cow at the best of times when pregnant, and my baby was only a few days old, how was this any different?

The following four months were a blur. I barely remember them and still feel completely cheated out of my new born baby.

Master L was first diagnosed with colic at a few weeks old, but I knew this wasn't the right diagnosis for him. There was no pattern to his screaming like there usually is with colic - he would just scream on and off all day, pulling his legs up with belly ache and constipation, spitting up his milk and very rarely taking more than 3oz at a time.

I knew it wasn't just colic, but I listened to the doctors when they told me it was, and began looking up things that may help him. I bought Dr Browns bottles which helped marginally with his wind. I bought colic drops which barely did anything apart from make it harder for me to prepare his bottles in the night. Infacol, Dentinox, Gripe water and many more things were given and barely helped him.

I then came across a link to a website about cows milk protein allergies and lactose allergies. Master L had symptoms for both of them, but as he had constipation and not diarrhea and because he was still gaining weight, the doctor wouldn't really see us. I continued to make appointments with him, researching what we could do until they finally agreed we could try him on a lactose free formula. 

This improved things drastically, but there was still something niggling at him. He would still bring up his feeds and still cry in pain after them too. But there was no constipation or wind either.

Finally after a 10 hour stint in hospital, feeds observed and lots of prodding and poking, they diagnosed, as well as lactose allergy, silent reflux. We had already tried the gaviscon powder in his bottles, but, alone, this made things worse. He was prescribed ranitidine and gaviscon powder, and together they worked wonders. More or less over night it was like I had a new baby. He was no longer in pain, he wasn't screaming for hours on end, and he was taking more than 3oz at a time!

This took 4 months of constant screaming, never being settled. A baby who wouldn't sleep unless on me, wouldn't be put down anywhere. A baby who I had to take the lead with, J couldn't deal with the screaming so it was down to me. Sometimes when he was crying and I had literally ran out of ideas of how to soothe him, I would leave him on the bed to cry & cry with him. I felt so useless, I was his mum and I was the one who should be able to soothe him and get rid of his pain. But it was all left to me to research his symptoms and what it could be, and then approach the doctors. all of it was down to me. Everything. And to this day I can honestly say it was the lack of support that contributed to my PND.

It was a hard few months. But people thought, because Master L was now "sorted" and no longer screaming 22 hours a day, I would instantly feel myself again. The doctors told me that by the time my baby was 12 months, I would be off the tablets I was now taking.

Wrong. Nearly 3 years later I am still on my tablets. Different tablets than I started on, but still on them. The first lot of tablets didn't agree with me at all. You know the feeling when you have had a few alcoholic drinks, and you know your in the room, but it all feels like a dream? Well that is how I felt most of the time. As well as the sickness and headaches they gave me too. After a few weeks I begged the doctors to change them. I couldn't decide what was worse, the side effects of the tablets that were meant to make me better, or the depression itself.

Having depression is the most confusing illness ever. You are constantly second guessing yourself. I felt tired all the time, I just wanted to lie in bed and hide away from everyone. I had no motivation to do anything, I didn't want to play with my boys - I didn't really enjoy being around them - nor did I want to be around family or friends. But was I simply being lazy? Was it "depression" or had I just become a lazy cow?

I was rarely eating, but when I ate, it was junk food. I wish I lost weight from not eating, but the amount of sheer junk I ate when I did feel like it - for example, at 12midnight - made up for it.

I completely lost my temper at the most random of times. I couldn't cope with the children making noise. God forbid if I ever had to go to a children's party.. the thought of all the noise would give me palpitation's. My heart would race and my palms would get sweaty. I couldn't do noise. At all. If the kids were happily playing, but being noisy in the process,  I would end up snapping and screaming at them.

And then the guilt I felt for shouting at them would be unbearable, the look my boys gave me when I lost my temper and screamed will be forever ingrained in my memory. I felt like such a useless mum. I didn't want to play with them, be around them, I wanted to stay in bed instead. I would lie in bed and just cry myself to sleep with the guilt of being a complete waste of a parent. If they boys were - what I would call - a handful, I would lock myself in the toilet and just cry because I couldn't cope with them.

But I felt like I had no reason to moan. I wanted both of my children, and they were well behaved boys. There are people in the world who would kill for children, who cant have them for what ever reason, and there I was, crying over nothing and not being able to cope. I was a mess. I felt like such a failure. Such a pathetic excuse for a mother and a woman.

With the first lot of tablets not working, and having to change them to something else, it took a lot longer than usual for them to start working. And then I began to feel happier. I looked forward to days out with my family. I laughed again, and wasn't crying as much. My anger wasn't always simmering over. It wasn't instant. And this wasn't how I felt every day. I still had my down days, but very slowly, I began to feel myself again.

But then, with the feeling of happiness, and being "me" again, came the whole "well I fell much better, I must not need my tablets now" cycle. That is another nightmare they don't tell you about. The constant yo-yoing of taking tablets to feel better, to then feel better and stop taking the tablets, to then quickly decline and be back at square one. It was awful.

I had been off my tablets a few months when I found out I was pregnant. The doctors didn't know this. I told them I had stopped taking them when I found out I was pregnant. See, when you have depression, you become a great liar. Fabulous at covering up. You become so good at getting on with your day to day life, making out that your fine, when inside your completely falling apart and dying.

I was petrified of declining whilst pregnant. I knew with all the hormones flowing around my body, it would be so much worse, and a lot harder to distinguish between "normal, pregnancy hormones" and my depression. I wanted to be better for the baby growing inside me, and for my two gorgeous boys who deserved better than a crappy mum with depression.

I was also petrified of feeling like I did after having Master L. Of being completely unable to cope. I couldn't be like that again, I just couldn't. I needed support this time.

At 23 weeks I was put back on my antidepressants. I began to feel calmer, less anxious. I was back to, mainly, being me again. And after having Miss DL, I had the support I needed too. I never even had the "baby blues" they so often warn you of. I was happy and complete, with my baby girl and her big brothers. I could have took on the world at that point.

Nearly 5 months after having my baby girl, I am still on my antidepressants. I am no longer ashamed to say I have depression, and the fact I have to take "happy pills" to get me through the days is just something that has to be done. Some days I still feel like spending the whole day in bed, but, thankfully, they are few and far between.

I wont say these 6 weeks holidays have been easy, I have noticed my temper simmering over again, and "shouty mummy" has reappeared more often than I'd like her to. I've been slacking with the housework and there are probably more things I could have done with the boys too, but I wake up in the morning happy to still be here. I now know when I am declining, and when I need to speak to the doctor. That can only be a good thing surely?

I am so thankful for my children. If it wasn't for them I probably wouldn't be here today. It is the thought of them being without me - no matter how useless I was - that got me through those really really dark days.

All I can hope for now, is that I continue to get better. For me, as well as my children. I can't say I will ever be the person I used to be, having depression has changed me completely as a person, as a mum, but I hope, in the not too distant future, I will have that dark cloud that used to engulf me, so tightly locked away that this will all be a distant memory.

H.x

Pass me the wine!

Jesus its been one of those days. The kids have been on one for sure. The fighting and the "he did this, he said that" has drove me up the wall.

We had Master D's friend over and he was that hospitable to his friend and such good company, that he decided having a nap on the couch would be the way to go.

Master L took it upon himself to slowly strip naked, and at one point, wearing just a top, started to climb on Master D's friends sister (aged 3), practically shoving his boy bits in her face. She, rightfully so, was disgusted. I think he's put her off boys for life.

More or less the whole car box - containing around 500 cars - was emptied, Miss DL's pram was used as a "car collector" after the boys shot cars from a track to land in the basket. They were shot under the table, the couch, behind the TV.. everywhere.

We had fights over sweets. They were given 3 each, but Master L had hold of the bowl containing them all - cue huge meltdown because everyone had "pinched" his sweets.

Every conversation I had with Master D, I had to have with Master L. I felt I was in a room that echoed and repeated back to me everything I said. And should Master L come up with a new conversation starter, heaven forbid I not reply to him within 5 seconds - he would spend the next 45 seconds to a minute simply repeating the last sentence he said, over, and over, and over, and over, until I was so, so close to banging my head against the wall to kill my brain cells.

We drove to J's friends house before tea, to be told by Master L "this isn't the way".. Yes it is.. "nope, its not".. I'm quite certain its the right way.. "no its not mum. This isn't the right way!".. It is, I'm going the way we always go! .. "no mum, its not the way!"

Seriously. Kill me now. How are they not back at school yet? Next week seems so close, yet so far.

I am not ashamed to say I bought a huge bottle of wine from the shop. I fully intend to drink the full bottle, as well as eat the cream cake I also bought. Maybe I should just stick a straw in the bottle and miss out the glass completely. Saves on the washing up.

Come to Mamma!!

H.x

From Two kids to Three. My journey from pregnancy to birth

It was around this time last year that I found out I was pregnant with our youngest Miss DL. I remember the day so clearly. I was a few days late, which was unusual for me as I took the pill and was like clockwork on my 7 day break. This particular day, my eldest Master D had an appointment at the hospital ENT department for a check up on his grommets.

Whilst in town, before getting the bus to the hospital, I ran into boots and got a cheap test to do, so I would know either way. My heart would pound at the thought of being pregnant again. We didn't plan to have another, we had just agreed the two boys was enough for us.

I used the bathroom in Costa coffee whilst waiting for a coffee to take out. My hands were all clammy and shaking whilst I waited for the results. My heart was beating so hard.

And then a little faint pink line showed up on the test. I couldn't believe it at first, I kept moving the test different ways under the light to see if I was imagining it. I took a picture and sent it to J to see if he could see the line. He actually thought I had got the picture off google. It wasn't until he saw the test himself that he believed me. And there was no denying the test was right. A few hours later, the test line was as dark as the control line!

I was speechless to say the least. I had my hands full with two boys, not to mention my age, I was only 23, what would people say? What would my family think? How would we manage?

I had just been made redundant from my job I had worked at since I was 17. I had - at the time - uncontrolled post natal depression. How the hell was I going to manage with three children 5 and under? What if the depression came back or got worse?

"What are we going to do?" was the question going around my mind. Over and over I would think about my options. Abort the pregnancy - something I said I would never do. Ever. But we hadn't planned on a third baby. Dare I say it, we didn't want another. We were happy with the children we had, the life we had.

All the questions I was asking myself were "what if's". Questions I couldn't answer and would never know. It was a decision I had to made blindly. I would never know in advance what it would be like with three, and I would never know what it would be like after aborting my child.

J had told me the decision was down to me, and what ever I decided he would support me. He was worried about my PND too, whether it would resurface or not and how we would manage money wise with an extra mouth.

It wasn't a decision I could take lightly. I thought about it every waking moment, I cried thinking about the possibility of aborting my baby. I never, ever, thought I would be in a position where I had to think about abortion. I didn't want to be in this position. Do I keep the baby and potentially make it harder for the family I already have, having to stretch our already stretched funds a bit further, or do I bless them with another sibling, another ready made friend to play with, another bundle of joy?

And then I spoke to my gran. She told me "its done now, you'll manage, don't worry, these things are sent to test us and they're only sent to those who can. What if its the little girl you have always wanted? He or she will be a gift from your granddad"

My Gran and Granddad were like my second parents. After more or less bringing me up with my parents all my life, they always knew what to say, when, and how to comfort me. I always went to them if I had something bugging me, or if I couldn't tell my mum or dad. I was devastated when my granddad died of Cancer whilst I was pregnant with Master L. Knowing that he only met one of my children is something that will always upset me, but knowing that this could be a gift from him was a lovely way of looking at it.

From then on in I knew I had made my decision. I don't think I could ever have gone through with an abortion. The second I knew I had a teeny baby growing inside of me was the second I knew I couldn't have terminated this pregnancy. I have no idea how women go through with it, it must be such a difficult and emotional decision to have to make and those ladies are definitely stronger than I will ever be. I don't think I'd ever be able to make that decision.

It wasn't an easy pregnancy. I was always second guessing whether I had made the right decision, whether I had put myself or my children first. Was I keeping this baby for me, in case it was the little girl I had always wanted? Should I have terminated and been happy I had my two beautiful boys? This we will never know.

At my 12 week scan I was given the due date of 23rd April 2015, and at our 20 week scan we were told our baby was indeed a little girl. She was being a little madam already, hiding away so I had to go for a walk in the hope she would change position. 

I was forever worried about my PND rearing its ugly head, and at 23 weeks I admitted defeat and went back on my anti-depressants. I was terrified of the side effects, but I was reassured that as everything was ok at the anomaly scan, there was a very slim chance of the tablets causing any problems at this stage in the pregnancy. I had to concentrate on me being well, so in turn, my baby would be ok too.

At 33 weeks, I was admitted to hospital with the worry that my waters had gone and I may be having my baby girl early. Thankfully this was a false alarm and I was allowed home late that night. It pushed us into getting everything ready, from making sure she had enough nappies and clothes, to having the hospital bag packed and ready to go. Her moses basket was set up next to my bed and her clothes were set out in the new drawers we had bought her.

It was early morning on 9th April that I woke with niggling pains. It was 1.30am, J was sleeping next to me and I needed to toilet. Again. But when I got back into bed, the pain in my back wouldn't go, I couldn't get comfy, and I couldn't get back to sleep.

I turned the TV on in the bedroom and I started pacing back and forth. Cleo (our pup) was looking at me funny, she was used to the numerous toilet trips, but I would always get back in bed and drop straight off to sleep again. This isn't normal, she was thinking.

At 2am, I went downstairs and sat on my birthing ball. I flicked through the TV downstairs whilst Cleo kept me company on the couch. I started timing the pains I was getting. I just remember having this craving for a cup of tea, but every time I went to make it I would get a pain and need to start bouncing on my ball again.

At about 2.50am, the pains were pretty regular and were starting to hurt, but I was only 38 weeks pregnant, my waters hadn't broken and I wasn't 100% convinced I was in labour. The pains hurt but they were bearable. I woke J up and told him I was getting pains, and he told me to phone his mum. She came to look after the boys, and off we went in a taxi to the hospital, where we arrived at 3.30am. I was finally examined around 4am to be told I was 5cm dilated and would be moved to a bed on the delivery ward as soon as it was ready.

I was given gas and air to help with the pains - which by this point were getting really bloody painful - and 20 minutes later I was told the room was ready. I was wheeled around, without the gas and air and in complete agony, to the room.

There was no time to get gas and air in the room, the midwife barely had enough time to put a plastic apron over her and turn the computer on before I was ready to push. After a few minutes pushing, at 4.45am on 9th April, my darling baby girl was born.

I knew right there and then I had made the right decision. The love I felt for her, the pure rush of love was overwhelming. I couldn't stop looking at her, watching her sleep, touching her soft skin. She was amazing. Her father and I were totally in love, and what made it even more special was the look on the boys' faces when they saw their baby sister for the first time.

My three beauties. My whole world.


H.x

Best friends at Two.

We had Master L's best friend over yesterday morning for a few hours, which I always look forward to. They generally play well together, which is a good thing as I tend to spend a good amount of time with his mum too.

Funnily enough, our oldest two - Master D and her eldest - are in the same class at school. Master L and his friend - her second child - will also be in the same class, as will Miss DL and her youngest. Funny how things work out!

Anyhow, he came round and they were both playing lovely. We had sandwiches for lunch, with a yoghurt and some juice. They barely sat still long enough before they were off sword fighting, squishing cars with dinosaurs and bouncing on the trampoline.

But you know when one of them starts getting tired and the other winds them up, or one of them is playing with something that the other wants? This happened. Or we have "muuum, he said he's taking that toy home!"

But in between the fighting (which isn't often to be fair), its lovely to see two young boys who get on so well, who have a lovely connection, who I know will grow up friends for life.

They genuinely care for each other and I know Maser L is always talking about his friend. He waits for him at the door in playgroup, and shouts for him when he seems him. He's sad when he realises his friend wont be in playgroup that morning, and when we pick them both up, Master L wants to go to his friends house and play!

Its a good thing they get on so well, as I said we spend a lot of time with them. As we have children the same age, we have a lot in common and find ourselves chatting for hours, before realising its well past tea time and no one has been fed! (I joke, no children were harmed in the making of this friendship!)

Although they get on well for the most part, when they rub each other the wrong way, they do it properly. Screaming, snatching, pushing and shoving, but typically, like many children, 30 seconds later they are friends and playing nicely again.

Essentials for a morning with friends!

 

I have friends who I went to high school with (some 12/13 years ago) and although our lives are busy (and different), we still try to meet for a catch up when we can. I hope this will be the case with Master L and his friend, but should that not happen, I'll be forever grateful to them for bringing myself and his friends mum closer together. We have formed a great friendship which doesn't feel like its only a few months old. A friendship which I hope will last a long time.

H.x