3 Already! A little man's story!

Where has the last 3 years gone. My baby is 3 today! This little fireball has always been busy! I remember thinking when I was carrying my daughter that she was a kicker and I nicknamed her fidget. However, it was nothing compared to being pregnant with Charlie, he kicked so much he would wake me up in the middle of the night. I couldn't rest anything on my stomach with out it falling off from his soccer kicks.

He started causing me trouble earlier than that. I had an extended 34 day period the month before I found out I was pregnant. The next month didn't seem to be any different at 35 days I took a pregnancy test and it showed no lines. At 42 days I began to get a little worried and was about to call the OB's office. The thought of having a really long time between periods when you are trying to get pregnant is not the most appealing, now of course I would love 4o days between that time of the month! The morning of day 42 I thought well just before I call her I will do another pregnancy test (good job I bought the double pack)! There it was the extra line. I did wonder if it could be true having had the negative one only a few days earlier. I remember walking into Molly-Mae's bedroom and watching Nic change her diaper - "ummm, guess what" I said! He didn't look up as he spread "butt cream" over Molly-Mae's bottom. "Well, we are having another baby", "really"? At this point he looked up and I showed him the little white stick. "I guess I'll be calling my OB anyway".

The pregnancy was much easier than Molly-Mae's although there were a few things that got me worried. In the first 16 weeks I only gained 1lb and could still wear my normal trousers, I was worried that the baby wasn't getting enough nutrition, unlike Molly-Mae, with which I couldn't wear my normal trousers at 7 weeks (not kidding) and gained 50lb during the pregnancy. With the 2nd pregnancy I had terrible constipation and when I mean terrible, I am talking an hour in the bathroom, with a numb bum almost every day. It got to the point where I didn't want to go to the bathroom at work because my co-workers thought that something wierd was going on because I would be gone for such a long time. One day I was late for picking up Molly-Mae from daycare because I was literally stuck! I have to say I hated being pregnant, the non-sleeping, the constipation, the inability to eat anything without getting acid reflux along with all the other "side effects", I just kept saying to myself "keep your eye on the prize".

On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I had my last appointment with my Dr and she told me I was in early labor. In fact her exact words were "there is absolutely no way you are going to make Thanksgiving". Famous last words! Thanksgiving came and went, the Friday after Thanksgiving came and went and Saturday I checked myself into the hospital bright and breezy at 7am. I had no idea whether it was a boy or a girl. I labored all day, with the nurses telling me the second is always easier. How wrong were they? This little guy wasn't coming out for love nor money and then at 8.28pm in the evening, the exact same time as his sister he decided that the World outside my stomach was his. The birth was excrutiating, he decided that he wanted to come out hand first and so I had to deal with the head and the shoulder. Lets just say the less I talk about the better and I don't recommend that type of birth. I was so excited to have a boy and he was such a "Charlie" we knew it when we looked at him. He was worth the room looking like a massacre had happened, he was worth me throwing up 10 minutes after his birth and he was worth the 9 months and 35lb of weight gain. He was worth the loss of blood and D and C 2 weeks later, he was worth the crazy night schedule he kept, of being "upside down" and being awake most of the night, but most of all, he was my little boy, the boy that I had dreamed of to complete our family.

My cheeky Charlie turns 3 today. He is a busy boy, crazy busy boy. He is wide awake from the moment his eyes flick open, just like his father. He is smart, I thought his sister was smart but he amazes me, he could count to 10 at 20 months. He loves bellies and is always playing with his belly or my belly or his dad's belly, its like his comfort toy (which at times can be a little embarrassing). He hates to be alone and can not play alone, he craves people, he needs people to be with him. He worries about his sister, in fact they both worry about each other, I couldn't have asked for them to be closer to each other.

Yes my little man is 3 today, this was him in early October competing in a kids triathlon, he came 2nd in the 3 and under age group. He loves his bike and really needs a bigger one.

Happy birthday my little man! Thanksgiving will always mean me being thankful for you coming into my life.

Some people are just plain rude!

I find it hard to deal with rude people. I often get annoyed with myself for not sticking up for the underdog when they are being bullied by rude people. It's the Brit in me - don't get involved, don't hurt people's feelings, mind your manners etc. Then I just get mad at myself and fester in the "what I should have said" scenarios.

Yesterday was no exception. I walked into the swimming pool changing room to find 2 women staring at a little boy. One lady (probably in her late 60's) went marching over to the boy and said "where's your mother little boy?" The boy said "its my grandmother and she is using the toilet". The older lady grabbed the boy by the shoulder and marched him to the sinks and told him to "stand there, this is a ladies changing room and you are too old to be in here". The boys grandmother came out of the toilet and was looking for the boy. The other lady pounced on her "is this your grandson, he is far too old to be in here. There are women changing!" The other woman was completely surprised and said "he is 5". "That is way to old to be in the womens changing room, he needs to be out of here look at that sign it says "boys 4 and older need to use the male changing rooms or use the family changing room". The poor other woman grabbed her belongings and the boy's hand and left.

I was flabbergasted! First of all at the intensity of the verbal attack on this poor lady but by the fact that I had never seen the sign before. The woman stormed back to the corner where I was changing and said to her friend "stupid English cow that type of thing makes me so pissed". She saw me glare at her. "I am allowed to say that because my husband's English" she proclaimed. At which point I said "Actually I am English, in fact we are all English" pointing to my kids and my mother in Law who was busily helping my kids get changed. Then she proceeded to ask me questions like how long I have been here etc. and I did NOT want to talk to her. BUT being the Brit I am, I of course answered politely. What I wanted to say was "you are such a rude person, who gives you the right to call someone an "English cow" certainly not because your husbands British and stop swearing in front of my kids" BUT I DIDN'T! I am so annoyed with myself for not saying what I really wanted to say and not sticking up for the other "grandma".

I discussed it with my mother in law afterwards. My daughter is 4 now and if it was the other way around and my husband had her in the mens changing rooms, I would not want her to be in the womens on her own. Yes, there is one family changing room I discovered last night but when you have 40 kids coming out of swimming lessons at the same time, how quickly does that get filled up. Do you agree is 4 years old too young?

He is such a Kid!

My husband turned 40 this week! Lets just say there is no way he looks 40 and certainly doesn't act like he is 40.

A few years ago someone came to our front door to try to sell newspapers and they actually asked him if his parents are home.
I still laugh out loud about that.

Here are some reasons why I don't think my husband acts like a 40 year old.

• He has Heelies (you know the shoes that have little wheels in the heels).
• He has 2 pocket bikes.
• He has more fun with the kids toys than they do.
• He keeps trying to make my kids do stunts.
• He has to be told not to pull on threads because the button will fall off.
• He would rather spend money on "toys" than clothes (for him)
• He can spend hours in Toys-R-Us "looking" for toys for the kids.

And all that results in the reason why I love him

Photography is my passion (most of the time)

I love to take photographs and always have done. For a few years it was my job, for 2 years I owned my own photography business. I very rarely put any of my own photos on the blog unless they are snapshots. My favorite things to photograph are dogs, kids and wildlife. Now the issue with dogs is that you can follow them around all day waiting for that perfect shot and most of the time you can get it. With kids its a different story, one kid is fun, two kids a little less fun anything more than that and you have trouble. Over the weekend a friend of mine asked me to photograph her family and her brother's family, the result 5 kids and 5 adults all looking in completely different directions. So out of about 200 photos taken, only a handful had everybody looking at me. That is the one reason I don't do portraits very often and definitely do not do weddings. I like pressure free photography, enjoying the moment, trying to capture that one fleeting photo that makes it all worth while. Lately I have been taking product shots, no pressure, just trying to make the item look good. So I am putting on the web my all time favorite shot this year of my son Charlie. 1 kid + 1 great smile with a touch of water.