I Went Outside..And It's A Bit More Dramatic Than It Sounds.

So 2017 has not been the year of the blog post. It's been a year full of lots of things, both in the world and in my world but one thing it's definitely not been full of is blogging. Woops.

I was going to write a post about new year's resolutions, but since we're nearly in March I thought that was a little bit redundant. So I thought rather than list all the things I said I was gonna do at the beginning of January but then forgot about, I'd concentrate on what I have achieved.

I went outside.

It sounds really silly but I've been ruled by my anxiety recently without even properly realising. It's always there like a bad smell but before Christmas, I was really panicked all the time by everything. I didn't want to go too far away from my house just in case. Just in case of what, I'm not really sure. But I was very adamant we weren't going far.

We basically just went to ASDA, my Nan's house and a cafe round the corner. I was too worried about Christmas crowds, terrorist attacks and Elliot wetting himself on the floor in the middle of Westfield to actually go further than a 10 minute walk from my front door.

The worst bit is, I didn't even realise that this was happening. I kept making excuses and excuses about why our weeks were being wasted, why Elliot's "mummy days" were full of him watching Fireman Sam and me desperately searching online for the "something bad" that had happened that day.

I can't remember what made me realise we weren't leaving the house anymore, but I just got a slap in the face one morning. We've been spreading our adventures out, since I'm not the best at indoor games, we have two full days we spend together a week and I make sure that we go somewhere at least once. (That somewhere might be the large Sainsburys a bus ride away from where we live, but hey! He enjoys the bus ride!)

I'm excited to share our adventures on the blog, I'm hoping that we'll get up to some fun stuff over the next few weeks! But, to start this off lightly, I'll just end this with a picture of our trip we went on yesterday.

A Child-Free Afternoon.

Today, we trekked up to London for a Christmas Toddler Party. I thought I had to stay with Elliot the whole time, so when we turned up and all the other parents waved goodbye at the door and ran for the hills I was a bit surprised. I had a child-free afternoon thrust upon me. I hadn't even brought my book with me, I was a bit lost.

Well, I wasted it.

I wandered around trying to find something to do. I walked around and around, witnessed a fight between two blokes with broomsticks, got the tube just to have somewhere to sit down and generally missed pushing a pushchair around. I panicked and bought a place mat that looks like a monster truck for £3, it was a very strange time.

I treated myself to a couple of go's up an escalator, instead of in the lift. And I wandered around a bit more, before sitting outside a coffee shop for a really disappointing salted caramel latte. It was genuinely crap, I'm really sad I didn't just deal with the Starbucks queue. The most exciting thing I did was to go to Liberty and laugh at a jug that looked like a melon and a child's dress that cost £48.

I had a child-free afternoon, three days before Christmas, and the only things I bought were ridiculously expensive Blaze and the Monster Machines merchandise from the Nickolodeon shop and a shitty coffee.

from a definitely not child-free afternoon. Better coffee though.

I just generally missed Elliot being there. Watch me eat those words tomorrow when he's swinging from the lampshades and screaming about how this is going to be the "BEST CHRISTMAS EVER" but I genuinely did miss having my tiny best friend wheeling around with me, trying to eat my shadow and forcing me to do my dragon impression embarassingly loud in public.

Next time, remind me to take my book so I don't get all soppy like this. It's late, it's Christmas, I'm all emotional. And my legs really hurt (I really did walk around quite a lot. Goodnight.)

The Bad Mum Club.

Today, I finally accepted my invitation to the Bad Mum Club. It's a prestigious club, where you can only get when you've really fucked things up. Today was a complete fuck up. And it all started with me googling the norovirus last night panicking that I was getting ill.

.

look at the pink-ness of my skin here. I am not that colour today. RIP me.

This morning, I couldn't stand up without almost fainting. I say almost fainting, I had to dive back into bed (shouting at Elliot to MOVE PLEASE MUMMY NEEDS TO LAY DOWN RIGHT NOW) before I actually hit the floor. I had fuzzy ears and everything. Elliot sat in my bed with me laying there crying about whether I was ill or not, reading book after book after book until my mum finally took pity on me and took him downstairs.

Disclaimer: yes, I still live at home with my parents. Yes, I really did take advantage of that today and I've told my mum I love her more today than I have in probably the past five years. She missed Christmas Jumper Day at work for me and my jippy tummy. So much love for that woman.

Anyway, I've already cried in bed whilst Elliot read me Mr Tumble books. Then I managed to get downstairs, whilst actually looking like a Japanese horror character. I'm terrified of films like The Ring and The Grudge so imagine my fucking reaction when I look in the mirror and I'm deathly pale apart from the massive dark circles under my eyes. Sheer terror, that's what.

Other highlights from my day consist of: Elliot demanding to make me better by using his "doctor stuff" and wanting to syringe plastic medicine into my mouth but me not being able to bear it. He had to pretend to put a cannula in his own mother. Then he listened to my heart and told me "it not good, you need lie down." So I promptly fell asleep for a nap whilst my mum fed him. He decided that I needed a pillow over my face to sleep and plopped one on top of me. I slept under that pillow for a good hour. Woke up and "...has this pillow been here long then?"

The afternoon quickly turned into absolute chaos, I let him empty all the cars over the floor and they lined up for a race that never happened. Translate to: like fuck was I getting on the floor to be a Monster Machine. We honestly played the game "Mummy's Phone Has Disappeared Say Abracadabra And It Might Come Back" at least twenty times and in the end I reverted back to my old saviour, Cartoonito.

I'm proud to say I cooked him dinner, even though I was absolutely exhausted and had to have assistance mashing potatoes. It's hard work, okay. So I sat Elliot down for his dinner, coaxing him as usual to actually eat and not just stare at the wall/ceiling/telly and I fell asleep. The Bad Mum Club opened their arms and welcomed me in as I fell asleep watching my son eat mashed potato. The worst bit? He didn't even bloody notice! I woke up half an hour later, because I'd snored myself awake and he was still sitting there - still hadn't eaten any pissing mashed potato may I add! And it was nearly 7pm. Terrible work.

So, as you can guess from this massive self-deprecating rant, it's been a shit day. My mum, Fireman Sam and dry bread saved it. I count it as a complete write off, which hasn't actually happened since Elliot was about 13 months old and I had to call my mum home from work because I was being sick into a bowl whilst sitting on the toilet and Elliot had thrown rice pudding up all over himself.

Worst bit is the dinnertime nap I had has completely fucked up my early night, so I'm sat here moping all over it again! Ugh, bring on tomorrow.

Things No-one Tells You: The Toddler Edition

So, the Internet is now rife with posts of "things no-one tells you about having a baby! including just how many people you invite to stare into your foofoo, how your boobs turn into full on rocks and how sometimes you just feel like you're going to smell like old breast milk for the rest of your life.

Now I know all this, it's all old hat. And I have no secrets any more, I will tell you in detail about leaking boobs and shotgun poo and all sorts. Mate, you want to know what it's like to be stitched up in your downstairs cupboard, I'll draw you a diagram. Well, I probably won't as that is a bit gross. But I'll make sure you're all fully clued up before you go pushing anything out of yourself.

BUT. There is legitimately something new to learn every day. Elliot's three in less than a month, and every day I have an "oh shit" moment when I realise something new.

• Preschool is serious business. I walked in today after Elliot having a week off to discover they do Christmas cards. I  immediately went into panic mode, because what if he ends up like Ralph Wiggum and the only card he gets is a sympathy one from me? I'm surely panicking over nothing. Right? These kids can't even read, they won't know.
• Nothing is more interesting than a cafe. Elliot is a man with a plan. And that plan is normally for a cake. Whether it's Sainsbury's, ASDA or his personal favourite, Costa, he loves sitting down with a book (normally Mickey Mouse) and a big window to watch some buses going past whilst I get to drink a coffee. I know he probably needs more stimulation but dammit, if he's happy with a muffin and the 96 to Woolwich going past every ten minutes, then so am I! (I also really like the honeycomb lattes in Costa but that's by the by really I'd say!)
• They can still squeeze out a poo on the sly. We went for a walk the other day, and Elliot waited until I was trying to take a picture of a good sunset and quickly squeezed a turd out into his pull up. We're really giving the whole potty training lark a good punt still, but obviously sometimes you'd rather waddle through a housing estate than go on your perfectly good potty. That I lug around all day for your obvious amusement. *eye roll emoji*
• HAHA, you thought the screaming was bad when they were little? You are having a fucking laugh. Elliot screamed so loudly the other day the entire shop turned to look at us. (We'd been to the toilet, and I'd had the audacity to wash his hands. His sleeves got wet. Cue absolute hysteria.) I had to peel his Christmas jumper off him and blow on it to get it dry to make the screaming stop. Because the hand dryer in the toilets made him shout LOUDER. And then, after all this, his arms were a bit damp from where the sleeves had got wet. Jesus, some people have it lucky compared to this.
• They're now big enough to hurt. This happened this evening, Elliot slapped me full on in the face with both hands and the evening took a quick turn from preparing for a bath to a complete shit storm. He even pissed himself he screamed so much. And if I'm honest, my cheeks stung so much my eyes watered. *eye roll emoji again*

a little pic of 2 years ago to reminisce his blossoming modelling career.

He's three soon, and it's a whole new world and I'm a little bit excited, a little bit dreading it. As he gets older, the baby literally melts out of his face. Timehop told me he's been wearing shoes for 2 years today. I mean..what the hell?! Don't in any way take this for me being broody though. Remember I had mastitis twice, I'm not walking back down that road lightly.

Elliot's Hospital Adventures!

So Elliot was meant to go into hospital for an operation. And, I'm going to sound awful here, but I definitely wanted to write it all up on here, for anyone else who has to think about needles going into their tiny child.

Well, it didn't happen. Not the blog posts, although they evidently didn't appear either. But the operation didn't go ahead. So, instead of a three-parter talking about my inner thoughts and worries about the hospital, I will tell you what it's like to build yourself up to a stressful day and then just have to go home again.

Before we went to the hospital, I was pretty well prepared. I recorded the episodes of Topsy and Tim where they go to hospital. I bought a book on Amazon about hospitals (side note: I always get so ripped off buying books on Amazon, since I paid about £3 for the world's tiniest book. It's so small, it's like it's made of sugar paper. Where does everyone else get the bargains, why do they avoid me!?) Elliot knew he was going to see the doctor, and he was SO CHUFFED when he got to the hospital. And why wouldn't he be, he had toys everywhere, he had a bed to chill out on, he was living the dream. Problem was: he was suffering from world's worst cold. And we'd dosed him up with Nurofen before we left, as he was really quite snotty.

I'm not very well versed in hospital speak, so I didn't know it would be a problem that he had a cough! The face on the nurse that did his first set of observations said it all. We had the world and his consultant coming to our bed, and for a while, it seemed like it would be okay even though he had a cough. This is where I got worked up.

The surgeon came over and said it would all be fine.
The anastheticist (I cannot say that word!) came over and said it probably would be fine...probably. The key point that I can't shake is when he told me where they'd put the needle in Elliot's hands. I was gone then, I was floating on a cloud of anxiety and when he called his consultant over and she told me we'd have to come back another day. And then the cloud started to rain. All over my face as I put Elliot's socks back on and tried to forget about needles and hospital beds and gowns.

And the tale ends with us in Costa, having a coffee and a cake. As per usual.

The Dystopian Hell of Adventure Bay.

I will put my hands up and say it, Elliot probably watches a bit too much Nick Jr and the surrounding channels (Nick Jr Peppa is legit both the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. I was able to delete all the episodes we had saved in the Sky+ planner because the little pink shit is ALWAYS ON. Yes, we had to fill all that space with other inane shit, but it's all swings and roundabouts really.)

I want to throw a disclaimer in there and say we do go out, we do have adventures and we do play, but after a marathon leaf painting session, or a three hour round trip to the park, I am going to put the telly on. I'm weak.

Today, I wish to talk about Paw Patrol. For the un-initiated (lol) here is the opening sequence.

I've noticed some weird shit is going down in Adventure Bay. I don't trust anyone who lives in that bloody town. Who on EARTH would put all their trust, every aspect of their emergency services in DOGS? An animal who will poo on a twig and then, within seconds, try to eat said twig. What the hell is wrong with these people?

These dogs have been tampered with, my friends. There's some dodgy shit going on in the waters of Adventure Bay. I mean, it's not like all animals can talk. That chicken can't say a single word. The cats that appear every now and then can't talk, so what makes these dogs so special? Some weird shit went down in the Paw Patroller, I'm telling you now.

Know who's behind it? Mayor fucking Goodway, I'll tell you now. She acts dumb but she caused all this mess, I bet you. She's a secret criminal mastermind who messed around with these poor, defenceless puppies and now she feels the need to call on them every minute of the day just to make herself feel better. Not only have these dogs got jobs, but they're on call 24/7. Humans crack under that pressure, let alone animals that enjoy pissing up trees.

One last thing. This is sliding down the scale from Dystopian fucking Hell to Logistical Nightmare, but it still irks me. These poor pups with jobs, once they finally crawl into their beds after saving a chicken for the fifth time that day, have to sleep in their car?! I mean, I'm no genius when it comes to cars. I'm pretty clueless, but even I'm sure an engine has to go in there somewhere. It's like Bear Grylls getting inside that camel, it's just unnecessary. I mean, Everest not only has been banished to the forest, but she has to live inside a snow plow? Even prisoners get beds.

I've gone too deep haven't I? Writing this has made me realise I have a shit ton of feelings about a kids TV show. This week we're definitely having a Paw Patrol detox, I need to step away before I start screaming at the telly and all my hair falls out due to stress of working it all out.

(I have so many more questions about other shows on telly, if you want me to delve into the philosophical* meanings behind Peppa, I will gladly do so.)

*I have no philosophical knowledge, it will be me explaining that they're all in Hell because of the giant potato man. Is it a giant potato? Is it a man in a costume? Who knows! WHO KNOWS!

The Good, The Bad and the Poo-Stained Playpark.

It's been a while. And I'll tell you for why. We've been potty training.

My life has honestly revolved around piss, shit and farts for the past three months. (or, "wee wee, poo poo and POP POPS" as Elliot tells me thirty times a day.) I've spent more time on the floor scrubbing up wee than I'd ever thought I would and I've perfected rolling a giant turd out of a pair of pants into the toilet with minimum splash.

The story began one fateful day, where we realised that suddenly Elliot had changed from a tiny baby rolling around in his own filth, to a toddler who looked almost disgusted at his own filth and waddled around until you took it away. It took me a long time to come to terms with this, and I'm still wondering where the tiny otter-looking thing that shot green goo out of his bum went?

Since I am a massive wimp and my OCD has been a killer for checking he hasn't wet himself, Elliot has been wearing pull up's over his Paw Patrol pants for the past three months. That sounds awful, doesn't it? When we're out and about, I just need some extra reassurance that he won't wee all over the floor of Sainsbury's.  Recently, I've been brave and we've been out a few times without that extra padded layer, which was a massive step in the right direction!

Potty training has been a bit of a rollercoaster, if I'm honest. I present to you the good, bad and really gross moments of our potty training journey! (We're still so far from the end of this journey. This list will be expanded.)

• The first time we ventured out after we'd thrown the nappies out (put them on top of the wardrobe) and Elliot shouted that he needed a wee in the middle of Baby Gap and Reece and I have never moved faster, shielding our son in the middle of the 3 for 2 section as he sat there, bemused, pissing into a bag.
• Reece texting me to tell me he's just had to kick a poo out of the playpark. And it was a smeary one.
• When a horrific turn of events led to me dumping a leaky bag of piss outside our local library before running home. And then the dog tried to eat it.
• Tipping a poo into a flowerbed in the park. I'm sorry, Nature.
• Ruining every single meal out by saying, "Do you need the toilet?" 24 times before the food's actually arrived.
• Sitting outside the Job Centre using a pack of nappies as a seat in the rain, as Elliot squeezes out a turd.
• Picking him up from playgroup for him to shout at me, "I DID A WEE WEE! IN THE PLAYGROUP POTTY!" and having to cheer like an idiot in front of all the other mums. That was actually quite a successful moment. 

I am actually, incredibly proud of my lean, mean pooping machine. I genuinely am pleased for the fact that he can control his bowel movements. Because once you've got that down, the entire world is your oyster.