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ENJOY! 🙂 x
What are you still doing here? Head on over to my sparkly new website –> http://www.thatmummyblog.com
ENJOY! 🙂 x
So I plodded along. I relished in the days both children would nap at the same time. I would scroll and scroll through various ‘2 under 2’ Facebook parenting groups in the hopes someone felt the same as me. I felt an intense love for my daughter, and continued to resent my son. I lightly brought up topics of having a ‘favourite’ child, to which I was always shut down with how absurd that was.
“We all love our children, equally” – friends and family would stutter.
“Well I don’t!” – my heart wailed.
I continued to breastfeed both him and my daughter, my daughter increasing her feeds out of jealousy. Whenever I fed my son I would get pins and needles in my hands and arms, my legs would become restless and my body tense. My phone became my crutch, I became obsessed with Candy Crush as it was the only thing that would take my mind away whilst feeding him. My son would feed, but at the same time push himself away from me. As if he wanted my breast, yet no other form of comfort or connection.
I looked forward to when my daughter fed, I would feel relief and a rush of oxytocin. It was the only time I felt truly myself again. I constantly battled with the possibility of not feeding him, but didn’t want to wean my daughter. I knew people would find it odd to continue feeding my toddler, whilst giving my baby formula. So I plodded along.
My husband had managed to take six weeks off work to be with us. I loved it and loathed it. Having him around made me dependent on him. It was too easy to hand him the baby and leave the room. To complain of back ache when carrying him on days out. My son slept for hours on end, still does now. It was too easy to lay him in his moses basket and pretend he didn’t exist. He barely made a sound.
He continued to refuse to sleep on me. I settled for him sleeping in the cot attached to our bed. Our toddler still sleeping in bed with us. I felt guilty that my son wasn’t experiencing the ‘attachment parenting’ ways I had become dependent on, despite the fact it was him choosing his path.
I had been honest with my midwife and health visitor from the start. Stating I didn’t feel anything, but their advice was pointless. Bathe together, do skin to skin, look into his eyes, breastfeed him. I was doing all of this, but I couldn’t force him to connect with me. He would wriggle and scream, the only time he seemed to be upset, other than when he was hungry, was when I tried to cuddle him. They were sure I would figure it out. So I plodded along.
I went to my usual baby groups, reconnected with old friends I had lost touch with due to my sickness. We seemed like the perfect, happy family on the outside. On the inside I was becoming increasingly low, depressed, frustrated and incredibly anxious and paranoid. I was determined everyone was looking at me. That they could see we didn’t bond. That everyone would talk about me. Thought that I wasn’t coping. That they felt sorry for my children.
I couldn’t cry. No matter how low, how frustrated I was feeling, I just couldn’t shed a tear. I was exhausted. I just wanted to feel, something, anything! I started watching sad films, anything to bring some emotion to me, read sad novels. I would sit in bed and think of all the horrible things that had ever happened to me, but nothing worked. I felt like I was going to explode. I was sure I would break at some point, I just didn’t know when. So I plodded along.
Four months post partum. The day everything changed.
My husband was back to work, my daughter woke as soon as he left. She clambered on top of me for a feed, as she did most mornings, but accidentally knocked her sleeping brother awake. I cracked. Both children started screaming. I didn’t know who to sort first. After a while, I decided to feed my daughter, she would be content watching telly whilst I sorted my son afterwards. He continued to scream. Once sorted, and happy with a DVD on, I calmed my son and gave him a feed but he wouldn’t settle. I just wanted him to sleep so I could go back to sleep.
I put him down on his tummy, as he always slept, and started to pat him on the back. He would normally settle in minutes with a rhythmic pat on the back. However that morning he just wouldn’t settle. He cried and wriggled. My daughters DVD had ended. She started crying. I just wanted to go back to sleep. My head was banging. My whole body tense. I continued patting my son, he just needed to go back to sleep. My daughter continued to scream. They just needed to be quiet so I could go back to sleep. I started to pat faster and harder without really realising.
Just. Go. Back. To. Sleep.
My son cried out. I gasped. My daughter was silent.
My bubble popped. I burst into hysterics. Tears streamed down my face.
My daughter started to cry again, my son’s cries became even more loud and intense. I struggled to breathe. White noise streamed my ears. I couldn’t hear anything. I couldn’t see anything. I hid under the duvet and waited for it all to end.
I don’t remember what happened after that. The next thing I knew, I was on the phone to my husband, begging him to come home. He came home to find us all fast asleep. I explained what had happened. I broke down. I admitted I wasn’t coping. That I didn’t want to do this anymore.
We called the peri natal mental health team in Exeter, a number I had been given previously and was put on a waiting list for. They spoke to my husband and decided to send the crisis team out the following day. I called my brother to come down from university, to look after me and the kids. My husband was told I shouldn’t be left alone.
The team came to my house to discuss my mental health. They gave me a new health visitor, put me on the waiting list for an attachment psychologist and sent a request to my doctor to discuss medication.
I had a plan of action.
They said I was going to get better.
So, I plodded along.
(Disclaimer – I have an array on health professionals working with me on a regular basis who are aware of my entire history of mental health issues and also read this blog.)
Can you believe I’ve nearly been blogging a whole month? No – me neither!
I know I keep saying it, but I’m so grateful for everyone who is supporting and following me so far. You’re all incredible!
So, you may have seen I posted my first feature on MeetOtherMums recently…you can check out the post here. But it basically contained a massive moan about Helicopter Parents and my bad experience at a soft play centre.
Typically, a week after this went live, my son had a nasty fall at the play centre. The exact one where a Mum previously told me to watch my kid…oops.
I was with the same friend and as always, I placed him in the baby section where I knew he would be safe. Once happily playing, I went back to my friend and we started discussing a new campaign for our post natal depression & anxiety support group. The next minute, a loud thump and my son was screaming. He had tried to climb out of the baby area, tripped over the entrance and face planted the hard floor. As I wasn’t nearby, another Mum (wearing a cream jumper) picked him up. In the two seconds it took for me to rush to him, they were both covered in blood.
I panicked. I had never seen a nose bleed in a baby before and his little nose had already started swelling and turning blue. I sat on the floor cuddling him as lots of parents rushed over to help. It was so kind of everyone to help, but at the same time was very overwhelming when I didn’t know what to do. The bleeding just wouldn’t stop, I was soon just as covered as him. I decided to give him a bottle and the pressure against his face eased the bleeding. A lovely Mum wiped the blood from my face and neck whilst I calmed down myself and my son.
The crowd of parents were all asking different questions, people were starting to discuss calling 999 or an ambulance being sent. I was concerned, but my instinct told me he wasn’t hurt enough to need medical treatment, however I didn’t want to seem like an awful parent for shrugging off their concerns. What if he was horribly injured and I didn’t do something about it? I already felt like the worst mum in the world for leaving him to hurt himself.
I probably seemed so clueless as I asked around me what I should do. It was eventually decided I would call 111 for further advice. After a few basic questions they decided an ambulance needed to be sent. Soon 2 paramedics arrived, one of which I actually recognised from when my daughter was younger and had a similar fall at home. They confirmed he should be fine, but suggested we should go into A&E to be on the safe side.
As we climbed into the ambulance, my son became very sleepy and limp. The paramedics told me I was white as a sheet. I actually felt incredibly concerned for my son. I had never felt this much worry for him before. Emotions flowed through me. Was he going to be okay? I started to contemplate my life without him, having previously done this with ease, for once I felt like I would do anything to make him be okay.
He snuggled into my chest and rubbed my back. He seemed to be comforting me more than anything. He fell asleep and we enjoyed a moment which I still can’t quite describe. I welled up and felt a burst of emotion. A lump in my throat and a pit in my stomach which stayed until we arrived and a doctor confirmed everything would be just fine.
We returned to the play centre the next day (we have membership!) and filled out a few accident forms. The manager discussed future risk assessments and has decided to install additional padding around the entrance to the baby area. Apparently the accident had happened before, but not to the same extent. This calmed me.
Maybe it would still have happened even if I had been hovering over him? Should I really give up my down time, my time to vent with friends, on the off chance my child could injure themselves?
I’ve decided I won’t. Call me selfish (well, don’t as I will probably cry…at least do it behind my back) but I am not going to let that one accident control how I parent. My children are happy to play independently or with friends and without my guidance. I deserve a break every once in a while. To sit on my ass and eat junk, gossip with friends or just scroll through my phone. And I still stand by my previous post. No one deserves to be judged for their parenting decisions. Even if they are sometimes wrong.
Accidents happen. Guilt happens. Shit happens.
This post first appeared on MeetOtherMums.com.
Dear Helicopter Mum at the Soft Play Centre,
I get you. We’ve all been first time mums. We all get protective. We’ve all had that feeling of just wanting your baby wrapped in cotton wool forever. Where you just want to shove them back up inside you where it’s nice and safe.
I remember crawling through the small tunnels, squishing your face into plastic that smelt like a mixture of puke and detergent. Squeezing my fat arse onto slides that were just not quite wide enough. Banging my head on every low bar whilst scrambling after my tiny child that was suddenly able to move at lightening speeds, despite taking THIRTY MINUTES to put on her darn coat that morning.
We have ALL been there.
You’re doing what makes you feel safe, by keeping a close eye on your baby. And that’s great.
But that doesn’t mean you should judge those that give their children a bit of leeway.
You saw the other child in the ‘baby area’. You could see he was perfectly safe. But you felt the need to search for his Mum.
His Mum, that was exhausted. His Mum, that was sitting down for the first time that day. His Mum, that had just started her antidepressants earlier that week and was on the verge of tears whilst seeking advice from her friend.
But you didn’t see that, did you?
You saw a Mum gossiping with her friend instead of keeping an eye on her child. You saw a Mum not caring for her child. So when that Mum came to check up on her child (who was still happily playing) you took judgement upon that Mum.
“Oh, there you are, we had been wondering who’s baby this was, shouldn’t be left on his own really” *insert snide look*
The baby, who was nearly 1. In an area solely for babies. In clear eyesight of his parent. Where the highest he could climb was no taller than himself, and should he fall, he would have a soft landing. You know…SOFT play?
Why did you take it upon yourself to put another Mum down, just because she didn’t parent the same way as you did? Why did you continue to glare at that Mum, making her so uncomfortable she collected her son from the soft play to sit on her knee? Why couldn’t you just let it slide?
I doubt you even remember making that comment. But I remember. I remember questioning myself. I remember feeling as if everyone looking at me. I remember that tightness building in my chest, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. Like I wasn’t good enough.
Next time you see a Mum taking a break. Please think about why she might need that break. Please think before you judge her.
Mum who just needs a break.
We’re already in February, but heck – why not?!
I was tagged by the lovely Clare at Neon Rainbow Blog to write about my 20 wishes for 2017. It will be lovely to look back at the end of the year and see how many, if any, have been achieved!
This tag splits our wishes into 4 categories; Personal, Family, Blogging and Hopes…so here we go!
We’re getting a bit late into the year now, and everyone I know in the blogging world has already completed this tag, so I’m not going to tag anyone (can I do this? I feel like I’m breaking some blogging code…oops!) However, if you’re reading this and haven’t shared yet, I’d love to take a read and share on your behalf 🙂
Sounds interesting right?
A few weeks ago I was set a challenge, a dare some might say…
It all started when my psychologist was telling me about her training days, part of her training required her to take herself out of her comfort zone and put herself in the shoes of the patients she would one day work with.
So one day, she found herself in a busy shopping mall, placed herself in the middle and stood on one leg. She did this on and off all day. Why did she do this? To prove to herself that she didn’t have to care about what other people thought of her. I laughed. How mad. Surely everyone looked at her as if she was nuts? They did. She felt self conscious at first, however as the day went on, she stopped caring.
And that is what she wants me to do. To accept that sometimes others may be thinking negatively about me and realise that it makes no difference to my life if they are or not! Easier said than done for the overthinking mum with self esteem issues and social anxiety.
To test this for myself, she asked me to take myself out of my comfort zone. Push my boundaries and do something odd to see how many people actually cared. By doing this one step at a time, I would eventually be able to stop myself overthinking and in turn reduce my anxiety…apparently.
A week passed and I was too anxious to do anything out of my comfort zone. My psychologist was not impressed. I was due to work later that day, I do casual work for a local bistro as a hostess/waitress, the ‘uniform’ being all black. I couldn’t find any black socks to wear with my black pumps (socks with pumps, already a fashion faux pas I know!). It was cold out and I didn’t feel like taking my current brightly coloured socks off.
Okay, this probably doesn’t sound like a big deal to most, wearing bright socks with pumps. But when I spend all of my energy on worrying about what others are thinking about me, this is kinda huge.
I walked to work with my stomach in knots, I was building up all sorts of thoughts in my head. What if my boss told me to take them off? What would I say? What if a customer stared? What if someone laughed at me?
I imagined serving someone I knew and them going home to tell their friends that they’d seen me wearing funny socks at work and that I was obviously an unfit mother. My thoughts quickly catastrophised from seemingly problem free to disastrous.
I took a deep breath and stepped in. I worked for around 4 hours and to my surprise, no one said anything about my socks! Of course they didn’t, why would they? I had been so busy that I had even forgotten I was wearing bright socks. It wasn’t until I walked home that I remembered. I started to over think again, but then stopped myself.
No one had said anything. Everyone had a good night. The colour of my socks had no impact on any aspect of the night.
I continued to walk on my own through the dark high street and suddenly felt a weight lift from me. I could feel a cheesy grin spread across my face and I let out a little giggle. No one cared what I was wearing, why would they? I had done my job, and everyone had left happy.
I craved that feeling, so for the next week I wore patterned socks every day. Only two people said anything, a close friend joked when I was wearing Christmas socks (I was pushing it a bit that day!) and my boss, when he accidentally stepped on my foot and noticed them, he just joked that they were a bit bright.
Instead of feeling self conscious, I laughed along both times and continued as if nothing had happened. The complete opposite from the week before, where I would have panicked for days over who they might have told or what they would have thought.
So, are you willing to accept my dare? Show off your snazzy socks in public and see who cares – you’ll be surprised by how much it could brighten your day!
Share your photos with me on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram using the hashtag #thesnazzysockchallenge – I can’t wait to see your ‘snazzy’ socks!
Since having my first child, I have been heavily involved in the local Children’s Centre. From becoming a breastfeeding peer supporter and volunteering at the weekly support group to being a part of their Parent Partner committee, organising Family Fun Days and everything in between. I really thrive off being a part of something good. I love volunteering and being part of a community.
However once I realised just how ill I was, my son was around 4 months old, I started to close in on myself. I stopped going along to the weekly breastfeeding support group as I felt like everyone was watching me. I felt like they knew I was having difficulties, despite the happy smile I plastered on my face each week. (Even now, many people tell me they wouldn’t have a clue to my struggles, I hide them too easily). I felt I was a hypocrite, giving advice to others based on guidelines that I wasn’t able to follow myself.
Once I was in a better place (which I’ll write about in more detail in my ‘Where it all began…’ series) I decided to start up a support group along with a friend who had also experienced post natal depression and anxiety. We had only had two meetings when I received a call from the volunteer coordinator for the Children’s Centre, someone who I had quite a good relationship with until I got ill. She had heard about the support group and was inviting me to attend an Advisory Board Meeting for Mid Devon on the topic of Mental Health. They wanted to hear from real parents going through mental health issues to find out their experiences and how they can help support parents and their families cope during these difficult times.
I was very wary to go. I had been to these meetings before as a Parent Partner, so understood how they worked. This also meant I knew who would be there. There was a long list of ‘important people in suits’ including a local MP and my primary school head teacher. Did I really want to go and open my heart to a bunch of strangers?
Apparently I did…I talked it through with my husband and psychologist and decided to go for it. Once I confirmed with my cycling group that I wouldn’t be able to lead that week, I decided if I was going to be telling my story to a bunch of important people, why not finally take the leap I’d been thinking about for so long and start a blog? And here I am…
I traveled to the meeting with the volunteer coordinator and we caught up. I took my son whilst my daughter was in nursery. I was very nervous, and it seemed my son was too as just as we arrived, he projectile vomited all over himself and his car seat. This is when I realised I had forgotten to pack spare clothes and wet wipes, I assume out of nervousness! Luckily we managed to find him some spare clothes and clean him up.
Completely flustered and feeling like I’d made myself look like an even worse mother than I feel most days, I entered the meeting room. I was relieved to see my Health Visitor sitting right in front of me, this gave me a little confidence boost, to know she was there and had my back if I needed her. Another Mum I knew through the support group PANDAS Tiverton (find out more here) was also there to share her experiences. I kindly let her go first 😉
It was emotional to listen to, but in a way comforting to know we were in the same boat and supporting each other. A few people made comments, mainly apologetic that she had such a bad experience from the team of people that were supposed to help her. We learnt that Health Visitors, the professionals that are a mothers first point of contact during the first six weeks post partum, actually have no mental health training. Isn’t that in itself shocking? How are these professionals supposed to diagnose and support mothers without the correct training?
Although I had a bad experience with my initial Health Visitor, I feel immensely lucky that I agreed to see a student Health Visitor on short notice, who is now fully qualified and one of many in my support system. She is fantastic, mainly due to the fact she was previously a mental health nurse, but also as she is so personable. I wouldn’t have been able to open up to others in the way I did with her in the beginning and I can’t thank her enough for all she’s done to help and support me. Whenever people talk badly about Health Visitors now, I can’t help but stick up for her!
I told my story and what I felt needed changing. In particular I am having trouble at the moment finding childcare in order to start an intensive Cognitive Behavior Therapy course. It seems somewhat ironic that I need this therapy because I’ve had children, yet can’t receive the therapy, because I have children.
The room was opened for questions, mostly positive and I felt confident answering them. Then a man asked a question, I looked up to see my old primary school headteacher…”Let’s get to the bottom of this then, I think PND is caused from too much pressure to breastfeed!”
I felt awful, mainly because I knew the other Mum had felt an immense pressure to feed when she didn’t feel well enough to. I could see she was getting emotional but couldn’t help but stick up for myself. My hand shot up. Everyone turned to face me. I felt like I was in school again.
I explained that I had breastfed both of my children, one I had no experience of PND and the other I had quite an intense experience of PND. I explained that mothers needed support in feeding, not told to give up because they were depressed or anxious. That for me, breastfeeding was my only connection to my son in the early days. And if I hadn’t felt that need to feed him, I probably wouldn’t have held him at all.
Both with tears in our eyes, my Health Visitor confidently told the room that the discussion was over and the topic of conversation was changed.
Despite a negative ending, it was overall a positive experience. I gained a few contacts who are looking into the possibility of holding a creche for PND/A sufferers to attend therapy and have been asked to attend various other meetings to build more awareness in our area.
I am determined to support as many local mums as possible through our support group and awareness campaigns and help others, through this blog, feel less alone and slightly more normal. #1in4
We got lost.
Of course we fricking got lost.
If you’re aware of Haldon Forest, you’re probably wondering how the heck we got lost. But we bloody managed it!
It all started out quite fabulously. My husband decided to take along the big bulky backpack carrier as he refuses to wear by beautiful Boba 4G in ‘Wildflower’. I insisted we bring it along anyway, just in case.
We got to the forest and parked along the road, right next to a large puddle. The toddler decided, of course, she wanted to jump in the muddy puddle (Thanks Peppa.) We agreed, on the condition she put on her waterproof suit first. She refused. Even after we told her how cool it was. Still not interested.
Wanting to avoid tantrums, we distracted with thoughts of seeing Stickman, and we were on our way. Toddler walking, baby in the bulky backpack carrier with Daddy.
5 mins into walk…Daddy decides the bulky backpack carrier is very uncomfortable and he can’t possibly carry baby in it any longer. Not wanting to say ‘I told you so’…(Ha!) I agreed to carry baby in my Boba (how nice of me).
6 mins into walk…Toddler starts tantrumming over the fact baby is being carried by Mama when she wants to be. Daddy carries Toddler in arms.
7 mins into walk…Toddler decides she is hungry. Find bench and have a snack. Baby goes crazy over thought of food. Offer yoghurt tube which he proceeds to squirt all over self, Mama and Daddy.
10 mins into walk…We are off, for real this time. Stop to take photos of children having a lovely time on our family day out in wooden seat. Toddler refuses to let go of drink to smile for camera. Give up.
20 mins into walk…Decide to go off the beaten track to ‘hunt for bears’. Hmm, if you’re sure Daddy.
45 mins into walk…Yup. We are lost. But at least the toddler is happily running along the path. We follow the ‘Butterfly Trail’, butterfly we feel means it will be light and easy? Awwe, maybe this isn’t so bad.
46 mins into walk…Toddler falls over.
1 hour into walk…We manage to soothe toddler, she is content however refusing to walk. Daddy carrying in arms, with bulky back pack carrier still on back, holding nothing.
1 hour 15 mins into walk…Toddler exhausted, baby content in carrier but getting heavy. We sit on a tree trunk for a snack. Whole forest seems deserted. No one to ask for directions. Daddy tries to find where we are using Google Maps. This does not help in the slightest.
1 hour 20 mins into walk…We get up and trudge along again. We now seem to see lots of people and manage to find our way back to the car park, all up hill.
1 hour 30 mins…WE MADE IT! So. Tired.
We checked the forest map and turns out we walked the hardest route, covering 3 miles, mainly uphill.
We’ll stick to the path next time!
I woke up to my daughter shouting ‘Boo!’ at the side of my bed. My husband had left me to sleep in whilst he caught up on Match Of The Day upstairs with the baby. I picked her up and gave her a cuddle. Lovely…or not?
I could smell something.
‘Darling? Have you done a fart?’
My daughter laughs and shakes her head. Fart is quite a funny word in the eyes of my toddler right now.
I shouted upstairs to my husband, asking him if she’d done a poo recently. He said no, but that she had been alone in her bedroom for a while.
I quickly rushed into the kids bedroom. I don’t know why I rushed as it obviously wouldn’t have changed anything.
Over the floor, over her bed, on her pillows. Oh look, some actually made it into the potty!
I cleaned it up, changed the sheets, opened the window and shut the door. But why could I still smell it? I had washed my hands, but did it again just in case. I turn to my daughter.
‘Mama, I couldn’t find any wipes so I came to you!’
Of course she did.
It seems I’m on a bit of a tagging roll 😉 The Sunshine Blogger Awards are a bit different, as each blogger sets their own ten questions!
I have been tagged by the lovely Beth at A Blonde And A Baby to answer the ten questions she has come up with for The Sunshine Blogger Awards, lets see how I get on…
1. What made you start blogging?
I’ve wanted to blog for as long as I can remember really. I have A Levels in English Language and Literature, and have always enjoyed writing. I wrote for an online magazine for a little while but didn’t enjoy the sales side and not having freedom in my writing. My psychologist kept suggesting I start a journal, so I decided to take it one step further and write for the whole internet to see!
2. What’s your signature dish to cook for dinner?
Fajitas. Whenever we have friends or family over for dinner, it’s fajitas. Our Nan (my Step Dads Mum) lived with us and looked after us during the week as Mom worked away a lot, and Nan’s dinner menu consisted of very British ‘meat and two veg’ style meals. If my Mom was due to be home by Friday, she’d make fajitas! It was the only time we’d all sit around a table and share food and stories, so always reminds me of family and good times.
3. What’s been your proudest parenting moment so far?
That’s a really hard one. I’ve been sat here about 20 mins now trying to think of something that I’m proud of. I guess that’s why I’m in therapy, eh? Hmm…I am very proud of pushing myself to breastfeed my daughter for 2.5 years, 1 year of which tandem feeding with her little brother.
4. Who is your celebrity crush?
Peter Andre. Have had a special place in my heart for him since his I’m A Celebrity days, I had his picture all over my workbooks in primary school and still know the words to all his songs.
5. What is your biggest pet peeve?
I don’t really know, I get annoyed quite easily. I absolutely hate whining. I never realised how irritating a child’s whine could be until my lovely daughter descended into the ‘terrible twos’. However according to other Mum friends, ‘terrible twos’ soon becomes ‘terrifying threes’, ‘frustrating fours’ before finally… ‘thank fuck you’re off to school fives’.
6. What is the thing you would most like to achieve this year?
We bought a ‘fixer upper’ last year and it’s going to take years to get it exactly how we want it. With me being a stay at home mum, we’re on a tight budget so will be doing up one room a year. This year I’d like to have got the playroom finished. It will be so great to have a separate space for all the kids stuff, maybe I’ll spend less time organising their toys?
7. Where is the best place you’ve been to on holiday?
Definitely touring the Rocky Mountains in Canada in an R.V. as a child. Best family holiday so far! I have so many happy memories from that holiday. As we have lots of family in Canada, it will definitely be a holiday to re create with my own little family.
8. What’s your go to midnight blogging snack?
Haagan Daaz, Strawberry Cheesecake. If we’re out then I’ll make myself some nachos!
9. Are you a messy play lover or hater, and why?
Love doing it with other people, not so much on my own! When my toddler has other friends to play with, she plays for longer. When she’s on her own, she tends to get bored after 5 mins, then it’s a very frustrating waste of time!
10. What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever been given?
Start a compliments book! And pretty much everything my therapist has suggested to date, especially when she finally convinced me to start taking anti depressants. She’s a bloody hero.
Awesome set of questions Beth! They definitely got me thinking…
Good luck! I’m looking forward to reading your responses! 🙂