My Little Pumpkin

It took some getting used to, but this Hallowe’en the wee man dressed as a pumpkin

“Noooo mummy, I wanted to be a racing driver”

On Sunday we followed very specific directions to a warehouse with a velvet rope in front of the door. It creaked open to reveal what can only be described as A Supersweet First Birthday… Soft play, disco, facepainting,Organix on every surface… The wee man had an absolute ball with all his wee pals from Buggyfit and beyond. He wasn’t even on too much of a sugar high to drive us home

“Left at the next junction, right Dad?”

The costume survived and was hauled out again on actual Hallowe’en as a surprise for my mum who looks after him on a Wednesday. She just about burst into tears, my sister burst out of the living room and much Instagramming and Facebooking ensued. He was still wearing it when I picked him up at 5.30pm. “I couldn’t get it off,” Mum admitted.

My favourite moment, though, in this week of celebrations, was the one I shared with my little pumpkin today. His streaming cold had made him cranky and clingy all morning. His lunch had been violently refused and he cried his wee heart out as I changed his nappy before his sleep. Distressed, I gathered him up in a big cuddle, wrapped a big cosy blanket around us and sat in the rocking chair, singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. He snuggled in, looked up at me and didn’t squirm once. His eyelids drooped and within four minutes he was asleep, snoring occasionally as the catarrh caught in his throat. Every time I decided to get up to put him in his cot I’d drop my nose onto his hair, press my lips on his wee head and promise myself a few more minutes. In the end I sat for nearly an hour. I had a million things to do but I couldn’t bear to break the spell. I was suddenly aware of how quickly he was growing up – in a few years he’ll be too big and probably too cool to snuggle up to his mum. So I just let myself spend the hour with my wee pumpkin and enjoy a special moment in a great week.

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Autumn Balm

My sister-in-law agrees with me that when the stress builds, a walk in amongst nature soothes your soul. She has three boys under five, so I’m glad for her sanity that she lives on the beautiful island of Arran. Until we can get over to visit, the leafy Glasgow parks are doing a great job of lowering my blood pressure. This morning, with Rod unexpectedly working all day, I took the wee man and I off to Pollok Park for a wander in the woodlands. Autumn has been stunning this year, I’ve been Instagramming my socks off (follow me at kimmca), but today I took my proper camera and reveled in shooting all the wonderful warm colours as the trees prepare for winter. The wee man pointed and shouted and watched entranced as I shook leaves down over the buggy. We are definitely feeling reinvigorated.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You may also enjoy this post: Mother and Son Time

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The lesson of the Big Blue Sack

We don’t have a laundry basket, we have a big, blue Ikea sack that sits on the floor of a walk-in cupboard in the bedroom.

When we’re tired and lazy we fling our dirty washing at the bag and don’t much care if it goes in. If one of us has put a towel in the sack we don’t even aim. The pile annoys me for a few days until I finally get round to hauling it out, hunting for all the socks and pants and separating the whites from the darks.

Rod likes his work shirts washed separately and there are usually those towels and bits of handwashing left over, but occasionally the bag is empty and I see blue. I open it out as far as it will go and put it back in the cupboard, wondering if this time we’ll keep it all tidy.

Going to bed with the knowledge there’s an empty sack in the cupboard is a good feeling.

When the fridge is empty and I’m tired, I do a small shop at the local Spar, knowing that eventually I’ll need to sit at my computer and order the big online grocery shop. When my car gets messier and filled with more stuff, I grab a few empty water bottles on my way out and make a mental note to hoover it at the weekend. When business is busy and childcare is limited, I hit the deadlines and answer the emails knowing that one day I’m going to have to organize those receipts, file those papers and get back to the business plan.

The joy of the full fridge, spotless car mat and organized office is sweet and brief because I know, soon, it’s going to start up all over again. I’ve decided that’s OK.

Short cuts are supposed to be hard. If they weren’t, they’d just be The Way. And as we all know, it’s not about the destination, it’s the journey.

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Going with the flow

The smoke alarm has just gone off.

It’s 12.50pm, I’m drying my hair in the living room and ignoring the chatter from a little man who’s supposed to be napping upstairs. He’ll never sleep now, but instead of mentally rearranging my day I’m deciding that’s just tough. I’m trying this new thing, you see, called ‘going with the flow’.

At Buggyfit this morning two friends and I were discussing how we pack everything in. One’s starting swimming classes after a morning Gymboree session; the other already does swimming classes and wants to do an extra Buggyfit session in the morning, but can’t figure out how to squeeze in naptime. None of us had quite figured out how the new, later, Buggyfit start time of 10am is going to affect The Routine. One had had to wake her boy from an early nap and I had had to lay out my clothes for after my shower and prepare lunch before we even left to make up for the half hour we’d lose after the class.

It’s ridiculous.

If you’re reading this as a parent you’ll get it, if you’re reading this as a single you probably won’t. Because it’s ridiculous. When did I become the woman who dries her hair in the living room at lunchtime? But I have been driven to this craziness by the fact that the wee man needs a nap before he goes to the afternoon session at nursery and I need to wash after my morning exercise and make myself presentable for work in the afternoon. So this is how I do it. I’ve eaten my lunch with the wee man at 11.45 so that I can use naptime to get myself organised. And blog. Yeah, I’m totally going with the flow.

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Be kind to yourself

A blogger I love has just posted that her second baby has arrived and she is blue. All the comments have been very supportive and nearly everyone has said: “Be kind to yourself”.

I’ve been feeling a bit stressed over the past few months and this phrase has struck a chord. The person putting all the pressure on me is me, so why can’t I just be kind to myself? I’ve spoken to a few mummy and non-mummy friends about this and it seems like we’re all at it. We’re all worried about things not being done properly, we’re all stressed about our workloads, we’re all guilty that the people we love aren’t getting the attention they deserve. Why do we do it to ourselves?

I’ve been trying very hard to follow my mum’s advice about replacing every negative thought with a positive one.

When I left the wee man crying at nursery today I firmly told myself he’d be fine in a few minutes, he loves nursery and I would be back for him in no time. When I took a break from my work to make a cup of tea and sneak a few chocolate buttons, I sternly reminded my conscience I do three exercise classes a week. I’m going to try very hard not to feel guilty about taking tomorrow off to take the wee man to an appointment and just play with him the rest of the day.

I wonder where this pressure comes from. Let’s blame the media shall we? In fact, let’s blame Victoria Beckham. She has four children, a tiny waist, a fashion label, a gorgeous husband, millions in the bank and a sunny life in LA. Sure she’s a grumpy cow whose husband cheated on her but you can’t deny the image is good. Or shall we blame the government? The economy is on its arse, everything is extortionate from childcare to petrol, and we all must run as fast as we can to stand still. If I’m honest – brutally, look yourself square in the eye, honest – I blame my pride. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, I must keep the standards up. I must ensure my business is a success, my house is clean, my hair is shiny. I must raise a well-rounded, happy child, support my husband and go out, be sociable, have a laugh and still be me.

On the whole, I reckon I’m managing all this pretty damn well. My life is full to bursting. Business is good for both Rod and me, the house generally is pretty tidy and clean and we have a fantastic social life. As for the wee man – when he throws his arms around my neck and presses his wee mouth against my cheek I just want to whoop at the top of my voice. He makes me so happy. Seeing him jump on his daddy makes me joyous. Watching all the new things he discovers makes me so proud I could burst. Those are the feelings I need to remember when the bin’s overflowing, the dishwasher needs emptied, there’s nothing for dinner and I have a deadline to meet.

I’m going to be kind to myself. I hope you are too.

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Mum & Dad time

“I should have brought my big camera,” I said, as the sun came out and lit up the hills.

“Nah, it would probably get wet,” Rod said.

I froze. Where the hell were we going? The camping jokes had gotten old really fast and the casual mentions of the Arran ferry were transparent but this comment threw me.

“AH! My wellies are in the other car!” I gasped.

“Oh…. Well, they’ll probably provide everything we need,” he said, then pointed and made to turn into a field filled with trailers and what looked like a circus tent.

“JUST KIDDING!” he cackled. I wanted to cry. I didn’t like this magical mystery tour and I was beginning to get seriously worried about where we’d end up. Then suddenly I saw a sign that made me cry out in relief.

Stobo Castle – Scotland’s only destination spa

I should have trusted him and I should have remembered what a wind-up merchant he can be. Luckily the wee spud had excelled himself – the receptionist said some truly magic words:

“Your suite will be ready in half an hour so you can go in and get ready before your spa treatments.”

Even spending thirty minutes waiting in the bright atrium with a freshly squeezed juice and nothing to do but sit was a treat. We couldn’t stop smiling at each other.

Our suite was stunning – I felt like I was on the set of Downton Abbey. Two sets of patio doors led out onto a terrace with stone steps curving down to the lawn. Two enormous plumfy beds were against the wall opposite, the views in the morning would be stunning.

Room with a view

I noted the large bathtub (I love a deep soak) and a huge TV (Jessica Ennis, Tom Daley and Ussain Bolt were on Jonathon Ross that night) as well as a sofa buried under cushions and a beautiful fireplace. But there’d be time to enjoy it later, we had to slip on our robes and pad through to the spa.

The treatment rooms were minimal in their design and a lovely cool temperature. I lay for an hour in that suspended state of consciousness while the therapist eased away all the knots and tension spots. Afterwards I clutched my glass of water and sleepwalked out to meet Rod, who also had that dazed look. We rounded the corner and flinched as the sunlight poured through the glass wall that was the entire side of the swimming pool. With its infinity edge it felt a bit like floating at the edge of a waterfall at the top of a green wooded valley. Eventually I couldn’t stand it any longer and suggested we go back and enjoy our terrace. Rod agreed.

Living the high life

We lay with magazines, beers and sweeties for two hours uninterrupted. I’m just going to say that again, uninterrupted.

After a long bath and a lovely dinner we took a walk as the sun set. There was no traffic noise and very few other people -just fresh clean air and the reflection of the pinks and greys in the loch.

 

 

We woke up early (old habits) and breakfasted on smoked salmon with scrambled eggs and fresh fruit in the dining room. A breeze came through the half-open window and Rod spotted a hot air balloon on the horizon. We wandered back to the room, tidied up a bit and dressed but it wasn’t even ten o’clock, so we went out to explore. The Japanese garden was a wonderful surprise – as was the warmth of the day. We followed a path and came across a waterfall, a little wooden bridge and stepping stones, all beautifully designed and maintained. I loved it.

We wandered through the rest of the grounds, sat with a capuccino for a while and then had a light lunch back in the dining room before tearing ourselves away. We had a little boy waiting for his mum and dad to come home and we couldn’t wait to see him. What a brilliant 30th birthday present.

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