Am I at last officially an adult….?

Several things this week have made me feel that maybe, just maybe, I’ve reached the world of being a real live adult. No, really. Let me detail them.

1. I drank my first ever coffee.

2. I got my first ever fruit and veg box delivered #middleclass.

3. I spent time reviewing what was in my fruit and veg box and whether it was worth the money, comparing it with supermarkets (and interestingly, the “make your own box” feature on the same companies website which would have made my standard box rather cheaper for the same contents). And then e-mailing them to tell them my findings and the conclusion that I need to cancel my account.

4. It is currently 9.20am. I am sitting out in the garden while my toddler plays in her play-house. We are both dressed and breakfasted (like she would let me forget that!). She even has sun lotion on. Am I actually starting to succeed as a mother on (very rare) occasions?!

However, in detailing all this, I think perhaps I am not  quite at fully grown adult status. Here is why:

1. My coffee was actually a latte. With a vanilla shot. And I couldn’t manage it all. Too bitter.

2. I was like a child on Christmas Eve at the prospect of my fruit and veg box arriving.

3. My parents are here so they had S while I got showered and dressed. They gave her breakfast. But the sun lotion was all me!

4. When discussing a swear-word in code in the staffroom yesterday, I had to seek advice on which one we were actually discussing…

So perhaps I’ve not quite made it in terms of being an adult. But I think thats ok. In fact, I rather suspect being a part-adult part-child might be slightly more fun…

The Facebook status phenomenon. And other general musings about it.

Note: It turns out I couldn’t spell phenomenon without the help of a spell check. I wonder if a subsequent post should ponder our reliance on technology…

I’m sitting in the garden for a few minutes break. No, I haven’t left Sophie inside to play with matches, knives, and whatever else she can find. She’s napping. And as I’ve done 4 full on Sophie solo days, and have 3 full on work days before the cycle nearly starts again (1 family together day this weekend), as the house isn’t an awful state (quite), as I felt very ill last night and think it was probably exhaustion, I felt I was justified to take a break in the garden, sitting on the lounger, with my kindle. And then I was tempted to put a statue update on Facebook about it sort of showing-off (but I haven’t, I’ve just written a blog instead!). I didn’t just write the status update because I really don’t like showy-off status updates, insights into a “perfect” life which I’m very sure isn’t perfect most of the time (and if it is, please let me in on the secret to getting it!). But then I came round to thinking that actually, most of Facebook is just about showing off, or getting attention, or displaying how great/awful/funny/despairing you life is. Not many people post about the mundane; the mowing the lawn, watching the news, eating a normal spaghetti bolognaise dinner. And if they did, I think quite a few people (OK, at least me) would think that they were too reliant on Facebook and not just getting on with living their life.

So perhaps we should all abandon Facebook.

Actually, no. I don’t think we should. I know that personally I need to limit my time on it, as I while away minutes (hours?) over each day just looking at photos, status updates, what people are doing, thinking, eating. When I’m at work, I rarely look at Facebook, and I don’t tend to miss anything very exciting in the course of the day I don’t check it. But I don’t think we should all abandon it completely. Here’s why.

When I joined up (back in the day y’know, when it was actually fairly new and mainly just university orientated), it was mainly for keeping in touch with people – uni friends when not at uni, home friends when not at home. I still think that is a valid reason to have Facebook (presuming you still have said friends and haven’t lost touch with 99.9% of them.. ahem). And more than those links, it’s a lovely way of keeping in touch with extended family, being a little bit more of a part of their lives and keeping them in touch with yours.

I know I’m guilty for taking a nice photo of Sophie or seeing her do something cute and immediately taking a photo, and subsequently uploading to her little group on Facebook (which people have selected to join). If I’m being honest, of course there’s a little bit of wanting to share how lovely I think she is with others. But also, I know there are some of our extended families, and friends, who don’t get to see her much (or us, but she holds more attraction somehow! I think its because she changes so much and so quickly) and so feel they are being a part of her life through seeing those photos, what’s she’s doing, how she’s developing. And I like that they feel they know her a bit more and feel a bit more connected.

So I’m going to try and limit my Facebook browsing (and replace with blogging). I’m also going to try and not post attention seeking, showing off status updates for the mere point of it. I’m not saying I’ll very good at it! But I’m not going to leave Facebook, for the reason outlined above. Or stop sharing photo’s of Sophie with the people who want to see.

I’m also going to move into the sun, the shade is a bit cool… ūüôā

Mummy will cuddle the hoover

Well that’s a phrase I never thought I’d hear Kieran say. Or that I’d follow the instruction and give the hoover a cuddle!

Sophie is scared of the hoover. I’m sure lots of children are scared of the hoover, or something else. It’s odd for us because she’s scared of very little. I joke it must be because I don’t hoover enough so she doesn’t have enough exposure to it! However, it’s not something I want her to continue being scared of. Part of me thinks she will grow out of it in her own time. The other part of me wonders if there’s anything we should be doing to help her? Hence sitting on the floor last night, giving the hoover a cuddle….!

She definitely doesn’t like the noise the hoover makes, but recently has cried and moved away whenever it is in the same room as her even if it is off (it lives in the under-stairs cupboard so she often doesn’t see it). Yesterday after bath time, however, it was up in the spare room. I’d hoovered earlier (I don’t dare hoover with her in the room currently). She kept pointing at it and looking concerned, but there was no actual crying. Hence we found ourselves talking to the hoover, telling Sophie it was friendly, and showing her it was nothing to be scared of, by giving it a pat and a cuddle (although that was mainly me and not Kieran, I note!).

I don’t know if it worked. She didn’t cry and she did get closer to it, but she wasn’t confident around it at all. I didn’t expect it to work straight away anyway. We’ve also got a play hoover of the same type we have for her to use, which I need to get out now she’s walking around. But my random thoughts have been pondering if there’s anything else we should be doing to help her get over this very irrational fear..

Beauty in the eye of the beholder

I put Sophie to bed around 50% of the time, Kieran and I share it (whoever doesn’t do it ends up cooking or tidying up, you can guess which we prefer to do!). On the days I put her to bed, after bottle we have a cuddle for a few minutes (as previously mentioned, following her reflux and need to be upright for a few minutes to prevent vomit). And invariably, in those few minutes of cuddles and quiet, I find myself thinking how lovely she looks and how pretty her face is. Tonight, I also found myself wondering why I always think that.

I’d like to think it is because she is all clean, her hair is washed, there is no food around her mouth, and she’s relaxed and peaceful. I like to think it’s because I’m thanking my lucky stars that I’m blessed to have her. I like to think it’s because she’s looking at me and is happy to be with me, and that’s reflecting in her face.

However, my pondering tonight led me to a different conclusion. I think, perhaps, most some nights, my loving of her beautiful face is partly due to a small amount of relief, that we’ve survived another day without major catastrophe, that she’s settled and going to (hopefully) sleep and give me a bit of a break, that I don’t have to think of any more games to play, songs to sing or meals to give today. Because whilst she’s one of the best things to ever happen to me, and I wouldn’t change her for the world, it is so tiring somedays!

But whatever the reason, however I get there, knowing she’s happy, had a good day, and¬†is (again, hopefully!), settling to sleep, it’s a good feeling to end her day on.


Whenever I put Sophie to bed, if she doesn’t fall asleep straight away after her bottle (rare these days), she spends her cuddle time trying to remove my glasses. Inevitably, I take them off myself to stop her getting hold of them and breaking them. When I do, she gives me a big smile and looks so happy. I find myself wondering why. Is it because my eyes look different without glasses (as they distort them), and she prefers it? Is it because I’ve just given in to what she wants? Is it because she feels she is closer to me when they aren’t in the way?

Who knows. She doesn’t do it any other time, nor with any other people (apart from her Pops, who lets her!). Perhaps its just another sign she loves me so much. Or perhaps she is just weird (like her Mummy!)

Wanderings about Weight.

Today I’ve been thinking about weight. Mainly because I’ve been forced to admit defeat and get rid of a large amount of clothes (again). Mostly trousers, but that’s only because I got rid of a lot of tops previously. It just seems that since having a baby my tummy, hips, legs are all just a different shape. Or that’s what I keep telling myself.

But weight is a weird thing. Many people spend a lot of time and energy focusing on it. I never have in particular, but I’ve not always needed to. Before I had Sophie I said I expected my tummy to change and wouldn’t mind having a bit of a “mummy-tummy”. It turns out I do. It might be, however, because it is only a little bit of mummy-tummy, and a lot more of eating-too-much-chcolate-tummy. I could do something about it, many people do, but I just enjoy food so much and exercise so little!

Therefore instead it just becomes another thing to beat myself up about, and I find myself wearing a constantly depleting amount of clothes as I refused to move up (yet another) size. I’m not as big as some people, I’m a lot bigger than others, but there seems to be a sort of stigma in my head about certain clothes sizes. I suppose the tipping point will be when the unhappiness about being a clothes size bigger overcomes the happiness at eating lovely chocolate (or the fear of exercise).

But really, I never see anyone running who looks happy about it!

You know you’re a Mum when..

This is what I’ve been thinking about this evening.. so here are some of my current ones.

You know you’re a Mum when…

  • The word “Mama” was wonderful the first 100000000 times it was directed at you. Now it’s nice the 5% of the time its not “mamamamamamama” with a pointed finger at what is needed ¬†wanted.
  • You spend 10 minutes sorting the ball pit balls into the correct types because your darling 15 month old had to have them all in there together, but your OCD won’t let them stay mixed up forever (especially when they are slightly different sizes aaahh).
  • You consider a successful day to be when you discovered an extra play use for said ball pit balls (they float wonderfully in the bath!)
  • Your blog is called RamblingsOfARachie, but should actually be called RamblingsOfSophie’sMummy, as most of it seems to be about her.
  • You realise you’ve had hundreds of amazing witty thoughts you could have posted here over the last 15months, but you’re only just emerging from the haze enough to consider writing them down.

What would yours be?

Just one more day.

Before Sophie, I couldn’t wait for the school holidays (like any other teacher!). I couldn’t wait for the lie-ins, the free time, the lack of stress, the lack of planning, the lack of marking, the lack of crowd control, the lack of responsibility. Anyway, you get the point.

But now, it means so much more. There won’t be any lie-ins (although I may get luckier than my current 6.15am work waking time). There will be a huge amount of responsibility still. In many ways, on some days, it will be much harder work than work. I’ll have to plan hours and days of activities, on a low budget, when no toddler groups are running and the soft play places are packed out of their head. I’ll have to learn to love the sounds from the “Fireman Sam action sounds” book that is Sophie’s current favourite. And I’m sure at some point on the first day of the holiday I’ll wonder whether it would have been easier just to keep working to have a break from the mind (and temper) of a 15month old. Yet as I finish my breakfast and think “one more day”, there’s an excited ball in my stomach, as I think of 17 glorious days of Easter Holidays with my lovely little girl, without having to leave her or worry about the next lesson plan or set of books. Happy times.

Now just got to work out how many times I can face singing “sleeping bunnys” or read “dear zoo” before I actually go mad…

A miracle..

Being a Mum is hard work. Harder than I ever imagined. Somedays, it turns out that the “playing” of a 15month old is not really the playing I thought it would be, or actually enjoy for a prolonged length of time. However, there are positive moments. More than I recognise and remember, I know, but they are there (one of my current favourites being our invented verse of “if you’re happy and you know it give Mummy a kiss”). And then there are¬†occasional, little moments of more than positive moments, of little instances of perfection.

This is getting a bit mushy, isn’t it!

Yesterday I put Sophie down. After a long day at work and feeling really tired, I relished the opportunity to sit in a darkened room for 10minutes, give Sophie her bottle and a cuddle before she went to bed. Usually I take my phone to check the time, as we like to keep her upright for 5mins or so as the last of the reflux stops troubling her, but last night I forgot. So I had nothing to distract me. After I gave her her bottle, she didn’t fall asleep, but instead lay there looking at me. So¬†I looked at her (through blurry vision as she’d tried to grab my glasses so I had to take them off). I found myself thinking, how perfect is this little girl. She may be cheeky, naughty, hard work, but isn’t she so perfectly made. How did we get so clever as to make this little miracle? And then I realised we didn’t. God did (well thats what I believe). Suddenly¬†the verse in the bible about knitting together in the womb (Psalm 139:13, yes I had to look it up)¬†took on a whole new meaning. What a miracle that all is.

Career aspirations

A conversation today..

Me: I saw an advertisement for a dispensary assistant at the chemist today. I quite fancied it. Although it was every afternoon.
K: Yes, and also you don’t have any qualifications as a chemist so you would be able to ever easily become a chemist or anything.
Me: Oh, I have no desire to be an actual chemist. Just the assistant. I don’t have any career aspirations
K: Really? But it’s good to have aims and ideas for where you want to go.

So, is it? Should I have more ambition for what I’m doing? Obviously I was a lead practitioner (AST), but gave it up when I wasn’t coping with health, Sophie, work all together etc. Should I have aims to progress? Or just stay static? Am I the only one who doesn’t have an aim of where I’m going?

Food for thought..