Going Gold...

It's september.

It's Childhood Cancer Awareness month.... A month where famous buildings around the world have bathed themselves in  golden light in order to raise awareness.  A month where people wear their gold ribbons to remember children they know who have fought cancer. 

It saddens me that we have to have these months. To the core. It is totally unacceptable that cancer can come in to anybodies life and quite frankly, destroy it. Not just the life that is doing the fighting, but all of the family and friends in their corner, willing them to keep fighting and helping them through the shitty times. 
On the flip side, it makes me extremely proud and it seems strange to say it, happy that so many people around the world unite and show their support of fighting this dreadful disease. For many, September is September and that is that, but as more of our lovely children fight cancer, so the awareness grows. I had no idea, until last year, the year my beautiful God Son Siddy, died of cancer. It seems so much more poignant as September is also the month that Siddy came in to our world.

So I do my bit. Gladly. If doing my bit helps just one child survive cancer, I do my bit.

I've bought a gold ribbon... £1... doesn't seem much in the way of help, but think of all those hundreds of thousands of gold ribbons being bought and then do the maths... My little bit towards helping fund cures.
My lovely husband has done his bit! His very first triathlon completed! Raising money for and awareness of the Smile With Siddy charity and Neuroblastoma, the Cancer that Siddy had.

I've also dusted off my running shoes again! No mean feat when you have a 3 year old, a 4 year old and a 17 week old baby, but it's september and I want people to see the lady squeezed in to the brightly coloured running vest, because it's the Smile With Siddy running vest! I want them to see it and remember it and maybe google it. That's one more person aware!

I run listening to the same album that I listened to over and over on each and every run that I did when I was training for the Bristol 10k. I thought I would choose some different beats, but I can't. "The 2nd Law" by Muse is now my running album...probably for evermore! I never meant it to be...I like a huge range of music, and when running becomes your me-time and probably one of the only opportunities to listen to something other than "the alien song" or "wheels on the bus" I thought i'd be drifting from album to album, reclaiming music I used to know and discovering new.
However, certain lyrics jumped out at me and almost became a bit of a mantra.
In "Survival" the words: And I choose to survive, Whatever it takes... found me feeling as though I was Sid....taking on his fight and helping him through. I knew this couldn't happen, but for that 3 minutes it felt like I could...And it made me feel better when times were really crap.
To watch your best friend go through just the most terrible time ever, and feel completely helpless was just awful. I wanted to cook them meals, do their shopping, look after Sid's sister, anything, but more than anything, I wanted to just hug her and hold her hand and be able to say everything was going to be alright, when we knew it wasn't and this was echoed in the words in "Follow me"
When darkness falls
 And surrounds you 
When you fall down 
When you're scared
And you're lost
Be braveI'm coming to hold you now... 

There were lots more lines that jumped out at me and the more I listened to it, the more I felt I was connecting with siddy and his family in a time when a lot of the time it wasn't always possible to physically do so. We cling on to things when the going is rough, and this was my life line to them.  

And so it is September. The month of Childhood Cancer Awareness.

I'm not sorry that this might have made some people feel uncomfortable because cancer isn't sorry.

I'm not sorry that I will always share Facebook statuses about this and badger people in to doing just a tiny bit to support this Cause because cancer isn't sorry.

I am deeply sorry that cancer exists.

I do my bit.  http://www.smilewithsiddy.co.uk/

"Mummy... Have you got your keys in your pocket?"

Well I have now!

A few weeks back i didn't, they were in a very dark and smelly place indeed!

It will come as no surprise to a lot of you that I do too much. I try where humanly possible to fit as much stuff in to my day. I don't know why I have this ridiculous need to do 48 hours worth of stuff in 12 hours, and i'm fairly sure it's never going to change.

Sometimes, this works out just fine and lots gets achieved and we're all happy if not a bit tired, other times, not so.

Like the day I dropped my car and house keys down a storm drain. At tea time. With 2 children and a small baby in tow. Whilst the husband was at work. And my mobile phone was in the house. Yep, you're painting the picture in your head just right!

We'd been and done a morning activity, an afternoon activity and at 4.45 the boys asked if they could go to the 50p card shop and get a toy and to Co-op to get melon!  Of course not wanting to get in the way of a fruit request (and the cheap toys make good bribes at naughty times "You've got to the count of 5 to do..... or the toy will be heading for the bin!!) my immediate action was to throw the baby in the buggy, grab my purse and keys and shepherd the boys out of the house.

Not even 5 metres from my front door I watched in slow motion as my keys slipped from the top of the buggy, waved byeeeeeeee, and dived in to the drain! The drain full of nasty smelly black water, leaves, litter and who knows what else.

Tears you may think. Nope, not from me. It came as no surprise, because that's just what I expect to happen to me.  I think I even gave a little laugh and said "Yes, Of course that has just happened!"  You see, keys and I have a kind of love/hate relationship. I often can't find them or lose them.

Like the time I lost my house keys when I just had Boy 1, again at tea time, and had to drive to my husband's work, but took a wrong turn and ended up driving northbound on the Motorway instead of heading to Avonmouth, with a screaming hungry baby, only to finally get to destination and find my keys in the depths of my pocket.

Or the time on our Honeymoon when I lost the keycard to our villa.

Or indeed the time on my very first holiday abroad with my school friends.

Picture the scene... a group of excitable teenagers having just arrived to their classy Tenerife Hotel room to find there were not enough beds. Off downstairs we march, myself in charge of the key (Oh God!)  Complaints made and with Hotel manager in tow, we head back to the room, via the lift. And that's when it happened. The key fell out of my hand. Yes, out of my hand and down in to the lift shaft. Not just on the floor or out of the lift in to the foyer, but through the teeny tiny gap, maybe a few centimetres at most, that leads to the depths of the hotel basement. Might I also add at this point, that it wasn't just a key, the key was attached to a key fob as big as an oar. I could have given Sir Steve Redgrave a run for his money using this thing.

Now cue slightly baffled Hotel manager searching inside and outside of the lift looking for the key, whilst I try to explain where exactly it had fallen. Of course he didn't get it, because keys don't do that. unless they've fallen from my fair hands.

So you see, I wasn't in the slightest bit surprised. 

Although the smartly dressed business man, who just happened to walk past and witness it was, and I hope that he thinks about the young lady with the crying children and babe in arms looking down in to the murky depths of a drain often. Because he didn't stop to help or even offer me a phone. Instead, he gave me some really sound advice... "Try ringing the council."  Why thank you. I'm fairly sure that once i'd negotiated my way through the "press 1 for queries, 2 for allotments and 3 for a jam sandwich" i'd find the "dropped your keys down a drain" department and they'd head straight out to help me. At 4.50pm!

The man that did stop, however, has the biggest Karma cake coming his way. He noticed the desperate looking family with the neighbours who had fashioned a hooking device out of bamboo and coat hangers, and donned his cape, pulled his underpants over his trousers and flew in to action! Having heaved the 10 tonne lid off, he was literally lying down in the gutter and scooping out buckets full of foul "water" and sifting through it.

He found my keys!

He saved the day.

He ensured 2 little boys and a crying baby were all safely back in their home eating dinner/drinking milk and diverted the major crisis that was swiftly making its way in to my life! Because we've all been on the wrong end of a hungry person...And I had 3 of them!

My keys do not live on the buggy anymore and my eldest son feels it's his duty to always ask as we leave the door.... "Mummy, have you got your keys in your pocket?"

I am NOT, I repeat NOT a bag lady.....

Yet!!

Though it appears I have all the makings of one!

This need to store stuff in bags drives my husband crazy!

Maybe I have an actual medical condition... Maybe i'm on my way to becoming a hoarder.  You know, one of those people who have channel 5 TV shows made about them, and you watch it and you feel desperately sad that they have chosen to live in such a way.  When in fact it's not a choice, they probably do indeed have a form of OCD.
Either way, it drives Husband to distraction, but I can't help it!  He thinks it's mess, but i know it's my organised chaos!

 Some people have boxes or drawers, I have bags!
I have bags full of clothes that Boy 1 has grown out of that Boy 3 needs to grow in to!
I have bags of stuff heading for the charity shop.... It's just that I haven't quite found the time to get there!
I have bags of half made crafty items... It's not my fault i couldn't crochet the blanket for boy 3 quick enough, and now that he's arrived, haven't found the time (or the inclination!) to complete!
I have bags of Christmas and birthday presents. I like to be organised!
I have a bag of items that will be used as inflight entertainment for the children when we go on our family holiday in October!
And now that I have found myself deeply entwined in an addictive relationship with a local online mums buying/selling group, I have bags up on bags of baby clothes, baby items, clothes that don't fit, toys that are no longer played with (this list could go on!) awaiting collection.
I know at some point in my life there won't be bags... Right?  Because all the clothes will have been grown in to and out of!  The charity shop will have all it's items and all the Christmas and birthday presents will have been given...It's not like they happen all year round year after year! 

It's like my life has become an endless stock rotation of bags!!!!

My husband should have twigged this the very first holiday we went on.  Here he was, walking through Geneva Airport, as he'd done many times before as a bachelor... (The IMOL times... International Man Of Leisure)  with his neatly packed purpose made bags for this ski equipment and that ski equipment... and a bag that i had handed to him... You guessed it, a Carrier bag! A carrier bag with a few bananas, a couple of sandwiches and a drink or two.  Didn't I already say I like to be organised.  In his mind....mess. In my mind it was a thoughtfully packed lunch,saving us about 100E which could all be then neatly put back in to the bag and then discarded! Only flaw in that plan was that it was about 9am and no where near lunch time!

I returned a top today to Next.  It had been sitting in a bag by the door for long enough and had had too many disapproving glares form the husband not to address the situation!
Top returned, and the customer service lady said ... "shall I throw this bag away for you?"
"oh Yes please" i replied in a hesitant manner, because for about 5 seconds my brain went in to lock down, going over all the countless uses i could find for it and wanting to snatch it back and put it to good use. In my House. Hanging off a hook, stashed away in a cupboard, nook or cranny.

They say the first step in addressing a problem is admitting you have a problem...

I am NOT a bag lady! Yet!

Every day Is a learning day!

3 boys in and you'd think I would know Everything!!! 

Ha! No way... Every day is indeed a learning day.

A few weeks back I had the pleasure of joining a new postnatal group. Lovely mums and lovely babies all swapping stories and generally bigging each other up to get us through the tough days... I was having many!

A hot topic of conversation amongst these groups is poo... We are no exception! 

Now, did you know, that when your baby is wearing an envelope neck style vest, when your baby sets free one of those poo things, and happens to cover themselves from toe to shoulder blade, rather than taking it up over little ones head..... Slip it down their body!!!!

I know!!! Who knew!!! I certainly didn't and often paraded around with a baby with a slight yellow tinge to the baby mullet all my boys sport at this ferocious pooing stage of life!

I'm sure most of you know this genius info, but if you didn't.... You're welcome!

Thank you to the mummies who enlightened me! You know who you are!!

Always happy to help!

School Days... Tears for all the right reasons!

So I've got through the tough week of Boy 1 starting school and Boy 2 starting preschool (at opposite ends of the village!) whilst the hubby fannies around doing those silly 12 hour shifts! My little feet are aching and Boy 3 was beginning to feel he'd been surgically attached to my front (all hail the amazing invention that is The Sling)

It's the week a lot of parents feel sad about... That they're losing their baby to the big wide world.  I've read and listened to quite a few mums over the past few weeks who have been feeling tearful about the start of school and feeling sad that it's an end of an era.
I've not felt sad about boy 1 going to school ... It's been a tough 16weeks since little boy 3 popped in to the world and I guiltily admit I was more than happy for someone else to be responsible for the boys for a few hours of the day!  Whilst a few of the mums hovered at the gates, not quite sure what to do with themselves for the next couple of hours, I skipped off with a spring in my step! That is, as springy as you can be at 16 weeks Postnatal, with a baby strapped to your chest and your 3 year old sat in the buggy! 

I was beginning to feel that I was maybe a bit cold hearted about it, but the past 3 days at the new school and preschool I've realised why... I loved school! I loved the friendships I made, my teachers, learning, playing, messing around in the school playgrounds out of hours, school uniforms (My dress sense as a child and teen was fairly crappy, so to have a uniform and save me the embarrasment of my own wardrobe was very welcome!) ... I even loved school dinners!!! And I know that my boys are going to love it too. 

The wonderful sound of hundreds of children playing in the school field... That brought a tear to my eye! 
Seeing Boy 1 embrace new buddies and playing in the trusting carefree way of a child who feels safe and happy... That brought a tear to my eye! 
Hearing Boy 2 talk about his new friends and how he enjoyed being funny... That brought a tear to my eye!  (I later learned that "Being funny" actually meant "Throwing the train track around" Yes, hahaha! Very funny, little boy...I'm sure you key workers found it hilarious! 
Seeing the boys doing rolypoly down the school bank reminded me of how my sister and I used to do the same at my nan and grandads... That brought a tear to my eye! 

So you see, I don't feel sad at all that my babies are becoming bigger boys and going to school, I feel incredibly happy and proud to be part of this exciting new chapter of our lives!  I hope I can do everything possible to make my boys enjoy school as much as I did.

As a mum, you want to be able to teach your child all about life and provide everything that they will need to become a caring, compassionate and responsible adult, but i know that there is a limit to what I can do.  I need help... You lovely teachers are just the help I need!  I adored (most of) my teachers...They were like doors to exciting new universes,  and I hope that my boys feel the same too.  

I may have had a few tears this week, but not of sadness.
Tears of Joy.... Tears of reminiscence.... Tears of happiness to be part of seeing my beautiful boys become the bigger boys and eventually well rounded adults that I hope for them to become!

3 boys?... Maybe number 4 will be a girl...

I have 3 boys!

I couldn't be happier!

If I had 3 girls, I would feel just as happy. If I had girl, boy, girl..... Again, I'd be the happiest I could be.  Which is why, when I was pregnant with my third son I found it quite tiresome at the number if people who would comment, with a slightly disappointed tone "ahhhhh 3 boys...you'll have to have another and try for a girl" or "never mind... Next time!"
I got to the point where I wanted to scream at them "I'm happy with my babies! I haven't had a third because I wanted one of the opposite sex, I've had a third because I wanted 3 children!"  It almost made me feel that  they felt boys weren't good enough and that I  should feel I was missing out  in not having a girl.
Don't get me wrong, I am slightly disappointed that I'll not be using my girl name, and I do sometimes gaze at they girly clothing section and think "ahhhh that's cute" but that's pretty much as far as it goes!  As a mum, I jyst wanted to have children who were happy ... And guess what, I've got 3 happy boys!

We live in a fairly stereotypical society and there are expectations of what boys and girls will wear and play with. I've tried where possible to ensure that by having boys hasn't ruled out certain things which society deems to be "girly!"  My middle son quite like Hello Kitty... He has a a Hello Kitty T-shirt and jumper, they both have dolls... Which they love and have named, and regularly play with. My eldest son quite like having his toe nails painted.
My boys love Frozen and Tangled and it's just the sweetest sound hearing them sing along.

 I live knowing that in a house of 3 boys (4 including the husband) I will forever have to put the toilet seat down.
I will often find myself standing in a wet patch in the bathroom and hope it's just splashed water from when they've washed their hands, but deep down know that I am in fact standing in a puddle of wee!
The plant pot beside the front door houses sticks...(plant long dead as I haven't enough hours in the day to think about watering a plant!) Various lengths and girths... But they're not just sticks, they're light sabers and "pilmers"
I'm often running around the village with Captain America and Buzz Lightyear in tow and don't get me started on how often a small boy can watch Superman, over and over and over again!
I'm a referee to wrestling matches that would rival Hulk Hogan vs The Undertaker and I live in hope of a day that I don't say for the umpteenth time "stop kicking him" and "put your winkle back in your pants/ hands out of your pants!!!" But I know that's a long way off!

I have 3 boys and I wouldn't change it for a second!

If you're reading this, and you come across  a  mum or dad... With 2, 3 , 4 or 5 of the same sex... Wouldn't it be nice to say  "Ahhhh 3 boys/girls ... How wonderful! What a lovely time you'll all have together"

Because we do.