Making Time Count; Not Counting Time

Goodbye days of relentless poos, mid-night milk feeds and teething; and hello to the tantrums, turmoils and treasures of the terrible twos. My child is TWO. I question where the time went, but the truth is I’m too consumed in the hustle and bustle of everyday to even realise. Most nights I’m eagerly awaiting 5pm at which stage the dinner has been eaten and the bath time bribery begins. By the way, she loves bath time. She loves anywhere we take her, but it’s the stopping of any activity and transferring to another which apparently sets off a giant ‘fuck you mummy’ (or Daddy to be fair) reaction in her and is followed by the delightful [and exceptionally over familiar word of] NO.  not even like a “hmm, no” its more of a volcanic eruption of No’s accessorised with an ash cloud of angry exertions - that include spitting, scowling and even growling at times. Then come the tears. I’ve become somewhat immune to the tears, which is funny as I distinctly remember a friend asking me in the first few months of motherhood whether I just shut off to the crying because it’s so incessant. I remember being mortified. How on earth could I shut off? But I gave it a thought and still felt that that was something that just simply was ‘unmotherly’ so my new-mum self proudly replied with a resounding no. (But a friendly one, unlike my toddler) well, 2 years on I can certainly tell you that my answer is most definitely a positive YES.

Despite all this, the motto stays the same. Even though it’s the hardest fudging thing (I’ve had to stop curb my swearing habits) you’ve ever experienced in your life. It’s the best. We have so much fun. Amelie was not blessed physically, but beyond ahead verbally. She’s always been the last to master any physical skill and on the verge of monitoring by a health visitor for walking - but she’s running around like any other kid now. Except for it’s always accompanied by verbal diarrhoea. No amount of ‘verbal Imodium’ could curb that but I LOVE it. She’s a proper little human and makes every day fun. It’s for this reason that (although I do ‘count the time’ until its bath and bed time) until about 3pm, I’m loving life ‘making the time count’; it’s a fair balance in my eyes.

It’s hard keeping up with blogging, and one of the hardest parts of ‘me’ that I’ve had to sacrifice, but I’m determined to have a bit more of a go because I set out to show how hard and misrepresented motherhood was, and I feel I’ve achieved that...  but I’m in the stage of how funny and rewarding and seriously good fun it can be. We’ve dabbled in potty training here and there, and whilst Amelie asks for the potty on occasion, she also quite happily releases the Niagara Falls equivalent of pee in her knickers and happily carries on like it. So you can imagine my delight when she finally asked to use the toilet whilst we were out! It went a little something like this:

Me:Amelie mummy needs a wee wee, can you come this way please.
Ammie: No (that famous word)
 *5 minutes later when my bladder is literally tingling like an overfilled damn she finally complies*

So hurry her little pitter pattering steps along, usher her into what I swear was the tiniest cubicle, whilst trying to wedge my 33 week baby bump and massive snack-filled rucksack in as quickly as possible;on the verge of pissing myself she decides she needs to wee. But before me. And screams it’s coming out and all sorts. (She has a nappy on) she’s having none of the nappy business despite having worn a fucking nappy the entire day and preceding days... so once again I’ve got to wait. She did do a wee in fairness but ffs, the timing was just not the one. I finally managed a wee by which point the entire party present in the loo has heard our conversational meltdown and I’m sure I’ll be met with an applause that I finally got my chance to pee. But worse, the shows not over for Amelie, clearly. “Mummy, I can wipe your butt for you?” Firstly, thanks for misleading the toilet public and insinuating I’ve now taken a dump, and second, and most worryingly that I expect you to wipe it for me!! I guess in her world. I wipe hers and she was trying to be helpful, but my god. Toddlers. Funny old things. I cannot even imagine when baby number two arrives to add to our girl gang how on earth I’d manage all that, but at least she’ll have an appropriate companion’s bum to offer to wipe I guess!

My biggest worry is that I’ll only be half the mum to each of my children and neither can ever get 100 percent of me. But that Amelie will be let down and shocked at how much less mummy time is devoted to her. Everybody tells me they had the same fear and it just works out and neither child is left without, but I guess it’s one of those things you have to find out for yourself when the time comes. This is why despite wanting to be in bed all day or indulging in slightly lazy activities as is my heavily pregnant prerogative, I’ve been running around softplay, or walking for miles around farms and zoos and grappling with the stones of the beach with toddler and beach tools in tow - I’ve been busy making time count. Because Mummy and Ammie time is so precious and the expiration date is drawing closer every day. That’s not to say we’re not excited, we as a family all cannot wait to meet the little rosebud. But I also can’t wait each day for an adventure with the one we already have, and trying to remember that once upon a time, neither of us ever thought she could exist!