one.

And there you have it. A one year old. Happy Birthday little bear. 

xx

Reflection.

In a few days I will wake up to a one year old Son.

The light and love this kid has brought into our lives is too much for words. I've been taken aback, gobsmacked, in awe at just how much you can love one little tiny human.

I never considered myself a maternal person. I never had a dream to be a Mother. I didn't feel it was my calling. I didn't ache to hold a tiny newborn, or get all gooey over that newborn baby smell. In fact I didn't even know how to hold a newborn, let alone care for one! I was personally terrified about being a Mother. The responsibility, expectation... all of it. I just couldn't picture myself as that person. As a Mother. The only thing I new was that I loved my other half, and together we would have a family. Don't get me wrong. I wanted children,  I just was never sure if I was ready. Mr D was ready well before I was I think, and I managed to find excuses as to why 'now was not a good time'.

So jump forward 9 or 10 months. I'd obviously given in and decided I was ready.

If you have sound - please play this song while you read... it might make my words more meaningful and disguise the fact that what I'm about to say isn't written how I want it to be. I'm struggling with words. 

I remember lying in my bed (with heartburn) in those last final days before he made his way into the world. I'm not sure if it was the heartburn keeping me awake at night or the toilet stops, or more so my anxieties. What kind of Mother would I be? Would my child love me? Am I enough for him? Am I ready for this? I remember vividly lying there, and struggling to picture this 'bump' in my arms. I was so stressed that I wouldn't love him properly (I know, I'm ridiculous), and he would feel that I didn't know what I was doing and I'd let him down somehow.

Well, ready or not, he made his way into the world after 8 hours of labour on the 8th of the 8th, 2012.

Floating in the birthing pool at 4.00am (pre-delivery) listening to the song above - Always Waiting.
This song will forever in my heart be mine and Arthur's. His Dadda was sleeping on the floor of the birthing suite, as I floated in the pool rubbing my bursting, tight belly, breathing through contractions, keeping a raft of emotions at bay. Anxiety, excitement, exhaustion, pain...

How perfect were the lyrics to our song;

My soul is yawning, and I'm longing too. 
Seen my day tiring, seen me breaking through
My time is coming soon
So I'm waiting
I'll be waiting for you, my friend. 

And so, with a babe in my arms at 10.35am, my world was complete. We became a family and I was forever changed. I have a greater level of patience and compassion. I stop to notice the world's beauty I so often overlooked. I have a new appreciation and understanding of innocence. I have responsibilities, challenges and no more sleep ins.

But overall I have love. I don't even care that this post is sickeningly gushy. I'm not even sorry if you vomited in your mouth a little bit, or think that I'm embarrassing. I have a feeling I've surprised those closest to me with just how I've taken to this role. I've surprised myself, that's for sure. I'm far from a perfect Mother. That doesn't exist. I have faults and flaws, but Arthur forgives me. He knows nothing else.

That, my friends, is what they call unconditional love.

Minutes after entering the world, all scrunched up. I'm exhausted, but so content. "We made it little bear...we made it."

I remember this as if it were yesterday. I can still feel the moment they placed him on my chest. A year on, when he places his head on my chest, I'm still taken back to this. I think that's why I melt, every time. 

And then his Daddy got a hold. He dressed him for the very first time and held him and held him and held him. 

I loved that day.

So there it is in a nutshell. My personal reflection of (nearly) a year as a Mother. 

Flippin' fantastic frittatas

These litttle frits are an excellent addition to the lunchbox. I store them in the fridge, or freezer (and pull them out the day before). They are great for dinner too... anytime really. Also not too bad to snack on yourself as you're racing around trying to clean a kitchen, feed a kid, hang out washing... that sort of thing.

There's nothing revolutionary about the recipe or a frittata and most of you probably already know how to make these. Given my level of cooking ability, I've found this an excellent addition to my finger food repertoire. Throw in any vegetables you have on hand. I always steam them first to soften them. If we're having a casserole, there's nothing stopping you from taking a little bit of that and throwing it in too.. anything goes. Apart from fruit. That might not work.

Art's Lunch

I'm new to this whole lunch box thing, and I know some of my friends are too, so why not share some lunch combinations with each other?
I'm limited to finger food and food he can manage with his gums and very few teeth. I also try to give him a wide variety of food, flavour and texture as his palette develops. I'll share a few of his lunch boxes along the way in the hope it may inspire other tired mums who need to get a lunch packed before they can retire for the evening.

I do find it easier to prepare his lunch the night before. It gives me time to cook up things and clear up the dishes if there are any. I also try to incorporate left overs from his dinner into lunch the next day so we don't waste too much food.

So here's one from the other day:

In case you can't see too clearly: 

Peanut butter & Jam sammy sushi. I got a good tutorial here

Egg Frittata: These take only 10 mins to make and I'll share the recipe on another post. 

Pasta: From his dinner that night. 

CousCous balls - from dinner also.

Yoghurt as an after lunch treat later in the day. 

Kiwifruit - I just peel and slice into wedges for him. 

He loves all of the options and always empties his lunch box. Some on the floor, but most in his belly... 

Conversations with Art.

In the mornings I dress him in his room by the heater. He rolls around in delight on his schmoooozy blanket, pulling it over his soft baby skin and losing himself in the silkiness of the fabric. He cannot resist a good schmooze. If he even slightly touches something soft, he literally melts into it.

Mid schmoozing, he pauses to crawl over and hit his 'Chinatown' frame so the music starts up. He looks at me, bopping his head and smiling, as if to say "that's better aye Mum?".
He likes music.

Sometimes when his Dad turns on the stereo, Art is so instantly overwhelmed with excitement and emotion he smiles and cries simultaneously until he can compose himself again and starts bopping. We die every time.

Whilst dressing him, I tell him what he is going to being doing that day and what I'll be doing.
"You're going to Jane's house today Arthur, and you're going to see all of your little friends".  I start naming them, watching his face react in delight when hearing the familiar names. We talk about the games he will play and what's in his lunchbox and his naps he will have (hopefully) and when I'll be picking him up.

He converses with me in his husky babble as if to tell me what he will actually be doing! He often chuckles to himself mid sentence which is pretty adorable and I'm desperate to know his thoughts.

I then tell him what I'll be doing. "Mummy is going to go to work today...and bore him with details of my meetings that day and what projects I'll be working on" . I figure somewhere in that little mind he will be retaining these conversations and will develop with an understanding of what I do on those days when mummy is gone.

I'm yet to have a day when I say "Good morning Little Bear, do you know what we are doing today?! Nothing!" I do find that he is starting to really listen and converse a lot more, and I try to explain as many things as possible to feed his inquisitive little mind.

"Arthur, we are going to go to the swings after breakfast, are you excited?"
His beaming face says it all.

"Arthur, do you know how much Mummy LOVES you? THIIIIISSSS much (arms out). He crawls over and puts his head on my lap and goes "ahhhhhhhh".

He is one in less than two weeks time and I'm in denial. Too much love over here.

I can't help but feel some days when I've been at work, he takes time to forgive me. I know it's stupid, but it's like he is angry at me. I'm not met by a child beside himself with happiness to see me. He isn't the same boy who beams with excitement when we get him up in the mornings.
Instead I find he is quite content doing his little thing and is like 'oh hey mum'. 
A little distant.
My heart hurts a little bit.

I make a point when we walk through the door, to sit down together and have on one one time for at least 30 minutes before I do his dinner. I find after half an hour he has forgiven me and is back to his loving ways. Or is it that after 30 minutes my guilt subsides?

It's working mum anxiety I'm sure. I know deep deep down that he doesn't resent me and he is so young he probably doesn't harbor complex emotions like that?!? I know it's my own doubts creating these thoughts and seeing these things...but I am constantly finding myself shrugging them off. I talk myself out of these mindsets. I reassure myself that he will grow to be proud of me, he is well grounded, balanced and has a very full life.

I think the problem is that I just love this boy more than anything I've ever experienced before. This is a human I'd give my life for in an instant. I beat myself up CONSTANTLY about EVERYTHING. It is so ridiculous. At the end of the day I know he feels the love we have for him. He is so so lucky. He is surrounded by love constantly. Everywhere he turns someone is smiling back at him or bending forward for a kiss, arms outstretched for a hug. He truly is loved.

So there you go, my guilt and emotion out there for the world to read. I feel a little naked and stupid.

Goodnight.