Comparison Is The Thief Of Joy 

Once again I need to start by apologising for neglecting my poor little blog. Life has been quite hectic and I just haven’t found the time but I’m back now. 

So, since my last post on Omar, (Finding Out Your Child Has Learning Disabilities) which was about a month ago, there have been some developments. The main one being: we have some more words!!! For such a long time he would only say  two words (oh no and ball) but over the past 4 or so weeks this has increased to 20 words! (Not that I’m counting or anything.) His receptive language (understanding) also seems to have improved a lot and he generally just seems to be engaging more. The little toad still hasn’t said mama though, I’m so desperate for that word to come!

  
I’m not sure whether these steps forward he has taken can be put down to the brilliant speech therapist we have started to see; an online video program we started called Gemiini; or whether it was just time for him to start talking more. But I’m just so glad he’s moving in the right direction and we’re going to keep doing what we’ve been doing and hope it continues. 

With each new word he says I get ridiculously excited and it lifts me for the whole day. The first new word he said spontaneously was cat. We were walking down the street and he pointed to a cat and said ‘cat’. I wasn’t quite sure I’d heard it right and didn’t dare believe it. But then later that day he also said cake and balloon. I was so overjoyed but didn’t dare revel in it too much in case it was a fluke and he’d be stuck on those words for months and months and months, the same way he was with ‘oh no’ and ‘ball’.

But his words continued to increase and I’m so proud of him. I make him work hard with the tasks the speech therapist has given us but we make it fun too and so far so good. 

  
He also had an appointment with a paediatrician a few weeks ago. She was great and spent over an hour with us. She saw Omar in action; he was in a whirlwind mood and kept filling toy pans up in the doctor’s hand washing basin and then trying to soak her with them (I know it shouldn’t have been funny but it so was). He also managed to hit her on the head twice with a ball, clapping and cheering afterwards both times (which leads me to believe her head was the target). Anyway, she didn’t really tell me anything I didn’t already know in terms of his development. He is delayed. We knew that. But she did say ‘he doesn’t have autism’. She actually said it like that. Not that she doesn’t think/believe/suspect he has autism. Just that he hasn’t got it. I don’t know whether she’s able to know that just from one hour with him; I thought a team of people would need to be involved to make that kind of decision. But anyway, that particular paediatrician doesn’t think Omar’s on the spectrum and neither does his speech therapist. Honestly, I don’t think he is either. I’m not ruling it out though. Just in case. His behaviour definitely isn’t typical but it doesn’t seem to fit with autism either. I’m stumped to be honest. 

 

First day of his new pre school
 
Omar has started at a new pre school recently too and the staff there are so supportive. He’s only been 6 times so far but I’ve got high hopes about the place. I’m especially hoping they can help with his challenging behaviour. They seem firmer with him than his last nursery and are working on boundaries, which can only be a good thing because he has no concept of them at the moment. 

So at 2 years 10 months Omar says 20 words spontaneously and copies around another 5. I know this is waaaay behind typical kids his age but he is talking and at one point I genuinely feared that he never would. His 25 words bring me joy. 

On the way home from pre school, when he points to a tree and says ‘tree’ I’m so so thrilled. I’m ecstatic! I’m walking on air! Until behind us, I hear a child younger than him taking in full sentences, telling their parents what they did that day. 

Then it hits me again how delayed Omar is and the grief comes creeping back in. 

So I have to block all other children out at the moment. Because comparison is the thief of joy and I won’t let anything steal this joy. For now, other children are irrelevant. Even yours. Sorry. I will still be pleased for you when they reach a milestone or make you proud. I will like your Facebook posts and leave kind comments on your Instagram photos. And I’m not being fake, I am genuinely celebrating that achievement with you. But I’m ignoring the age of your child and I’m oblivious to their stage of development. It’s the only way at the moment. I need to preserve my joy. 

I hope you understand. 

Clarisonic Review

I wrote this review a while ago for guest list on another blog but I’ve recently fallen back in love with my Clarisonic after forgetting about it for a while so I’m re-publishing it here…

While I was pregnant for the second time I noticed that my skin became extra oily and my pores even more noticeable. Already feeling like a huge frump, the last thing I wanted was terrible skin, so I decided to invest in a Clarisonic facial cleansing system. There are several different types available but I opted for the Mia 2 Deep Pore Decongesting Solution, which seemed perfect for me because the box read ‘Reduces pore appearance and helps control excess oil on skin’s surface, for visibly clearer looking skin’. Great, just what I needed!

 So I handed over £140.00 (ouch!) and headed home with what I hoped would be my new skincare saviour. Inside the box was a white deep pore Mia 2 cleanser with deep pore brush head attached, 177ml deep pore daily cleanser, 60ml decongesting clay mask, charger and a hard travel case. I was also given a free travel bag as part of a promotion.

That evening, after I had removed my makeup, I was excited to use the Clarisonic. I followed the instructions, splashed water on my face, put a penny sized amount of the daily cleanser straight onto the brush head and got to work on my face.

The Clarisonic uses patented sonic frequency and the brush head moves at a rate of over 300 movements per second. There are 2 speed settings on the Mia 2 and a 1 minute timer. I must say, I loved the feel of the Clarisonic against my skin, I could feel the dead skin and dirt faking away. I had to resist the temptation to keep using it for one more minute. Twice daily for one minute each time is what Clarisonic recommend.

Clarisonic claim a visible improvement will be seen after just one use but I didn’t really believe that would be true. However let me tell you – it is! My pores were tighter, especially on my nose, and my skin felt so amazingly soft I couldn’t stop touching it. I was so impressed and immediately felt it was a justified spend.

Several months on and I still use the Clarisonic daily. It is now part of my morning and evening skincare routine. When the daily cleanser ran out though I didn’t replace it. I went back to my old faithful Johnson’s Clean and Clear. I’ve used so many facial cleaners over the years, from Clarins to Superdrug’s own brand, but I find this cheap and cheerful choice great for my oily skin.

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I use the decongestant clay mask weekly and I still have some left. A little goes a long way and it’s very easy to spread, unlike a lot of clay masks. I find that a weekly application is enough to really clean my skin and unclog my pores.

Overall I’m very pleased with the Clarisonic Mia 2. We can never totally remove our pores, it just isn’t possible, but using the Clarisonic definitely makes mine appear much tighter and smaller and helps me keep my oily skin under control.

A totally unfiltered selfie to show you my skin.

Finding Out Your Child Has Learning Disabilities

Things keep happening to me that only happen to other people. I’ve already blogged about my second baby being born with a congenital heart defect and having open heart surgery when he was 2 days old. That happened in July last year. When the doctor first told me, hours after Zaki had been born, I thought to myself ‘this can’t be happening because I’ve read about this sort of thing but it only happens to other people‘. Well it did happen and we got through it. But I’ll admit that I got through it by the skin of my teeth and almost lost the plot more than once.

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I took Zaki home and genuinely believed that once we were all settled my little family would be in for an easy ride for a while. At least a little while. If not forever. I mean, after something as terrifying and traumatic as that how could the universe possibly heap any more shit on us?

Unfortunately we didn’t qualify for the easy ride and more shit was on its way.

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Within days of being home I started to realise things weren’t quite right with my oldest boy, who was 2 years 1 month old when Zaki was born. I wrote about some of my my concerns that he still wasn’t talking here. Well, he’s now 2 years 9 months and still not talking. He still hasn’t said mama or mummy…

If you read my blog regularly you’ll have realised I’ve been quiet lately. Not just here but on social media too. I’ve been trying to come to terms with the fact that my gorgeous boy, the kid that changed my life and taught me what true love really is, has learning disabilities.

Now I’m coming to terms with it, and I fully understand what it means, it’s actually not as scary as it sounds. But at first I was an absolute wreck. It was all I thought about and I spent every waking moment obsessing about it and what it meant. I cried and cried and cried. Then I cried a bit more. Mostly because I was scared. I had no idea what the future would hold for my sweet, precious, gorgeous, innocent boy. Well I still don’t. And I’m still scared and I still cry. But much, much less now.

He hasn’t had an official diagnosis yet but I’ve had enough dealings with doctors to recognise the warning shots that we’ve been given from them. And I’m switched on enough to realise that he definitely has learning disabilities.

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It all started to become clear when a paediatrician carried out a hearing test on Omar about 3 weeks ago. This was after 12 sessions of speech and language therapy hadn’t really had much effect. The paediatrician told me that Omar was delayed not only with speech and language but also with social and emotional development. That set me off on a crusade of Internet research, which although can be hit and miss, I have to say, did prepare me for what was to come. I read that a delay in 2 areas or more means Gloval Development Delay (GDD). And GDD means learning disability. I still hadn’t really accepted it though. But deep deep down, I knew.

I found an amazing group on Facebook, of parents dealing with similar situations and through that group I found a lovely, supportive beacon of light in the form of another blogger. She prepared me for the emotions I was about to go through. She gave me hope and positivity too. She has been nothing short of amazing. Even though we’ve only messaged online and I haven’t actually met her, I feel like I’ve known her for years. She’s called Janine and she’s great, check out her blog here – Unhinged Mummy.

I finally, properly, fully came to terms with reality a few days ago when a private speech pathologist told us that Omar is severely delayed and is operating at a level at least a year younger than his actual age. She predicts that he will talk but not for around another year. Although obviously she can’t guarantee it. I took comfort in that though and I’m praying she’s right.

She used the terms ‘learning disabilities’ and ‘special needs’ and it was hard to digest but once it had been spoken out loud by a professional there was no going back. It was out there and I had to take a deep breath and do what needed to be done to help my boy.

These years are so so important, if gains are to be made, they will mostly be made before a child is 5. I keep hearing that early intervention is the key. He needs as much support as possible as soon as possible. Great! Let’s put it in place. If only it were that easy…

Everything takes so long and services have been ruthlessly cut, meaning there just aren’t enough resources to go round. I’m already fighting and battling to get my son the help he needs and I’m only a few weeks into what it going to be a really long, hard journey. It’s actually so cruel, the way this Tory government is slashing funding for services. Services for the most vulnerable in society. It actually disgusts me, actually physically disgusts me. Anyway, I digress…

 

So back to how it feels when you find out your child has a learning disability. Grief. That’s the overwhelming feeling. Nobody has died but there is a sense of loss. Loss of the child you thought you were going to raise. That’s not to say I love my baby any less, or wish he was someone else. Of course I don’t. I wouldn’t change him for the world and that’s the truth. But I am so,so sad that his life won’t be as easy as I thought it would be. He will have to work so much harder to achieve every milestone and it just all seems so unfair.

Aside from the grief, I also feel a huge amount of pressure to do everything I can to help Omar to develop and also get him the professional support that he needs. I’ve already hounded his health visitor and early years co-ordinater. I’ve contacted pretty much every nursery and pre school in the area and been to look round a few, trying to figure out where he will get the best help. I’ve spoken to professionals who should only really get involved after a diagnosis, just by being pushy and pressing for help. I can almost hear their eyes rolling when they answer the phone and it’s me again, the pushy mum in the early stages of accepting her child has learning disabilities. But I don’t care. I’ll gladly be a pushy, embarrassing mum if it helps my boy.

It’s a lonely situation to be in at first. It feels like everyone else is going in one direction with their kids and I’m going in another direction with mine, to a place unknown. But slowly I have started to realise that Omar is still Omar. Nothing has actually changed, it’s just that now I’m more aware and now I know for sure he’s different to most other kids.

Maybe harder times are yet to come. We don’t yet know the cause of his delays or how much progress he’ll be able to make. Maybe I’ll be a wreck again once he has an official diagnosis, or if his speech doesn’t progress. But for now I’m trying to take each day as it comes and see the positives.

So here we are. One boy with learning disabilities and one boy with a congenital heart defect. It’s not the life I thought we’d have but it’s the only one we’ve got so we’ll live it together and just as before, I’ll be doing everything I can to make sure it’s a happy one for my beautiful boys.

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They F*ck You Up

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

Yep. Philip Larkin hit the nail on the head with ‘This Be The Verse’. We can all probably attribute some of our issues to our parents and the way they did (or in some cases didn’t) raise us. Even if they did their absolute best Even if they were attentive and doting and as mumsy and dadsy as could be. 

And if we know that our parents messed us up then we have to know that we’re messing our kids up. And we can’t stop because we don’t even know we’re doing it.

But it works the other way too.

They fuck you up, those kids you had.

They make you feel helpless, useless and like you’ve lost control.

And that pretty much sums up how I’ve been feeling for the last ten days. I don’t mean that I haven’t been coping with the general parenting stuff or that I’m tired or my house is a tip. Well yeah, that too. But it’s more serious and it’s got me feeling like absolute crap. To the point that I couldn’t face writing any blog posts or even watching tv. I just wanted to cry and sleep. Sleep brought sweet relief from having to think. 

You might have read about my baby Zaki and his heart. Open heart surgery and a 3 week stint in intensive care saved his life but he so very nearly died and life was hell for a while. Then it got better and I dared to think that we might be in for an easier ride for a while. Because we deserved it after what we’d been through, didn’t we?

I know it doesn’t really work that way but I thought that after something so awful, that was our fair share of crapness done with and there’d be nothing else major coming up. But yeah, it doesn’t work that way.

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I’m not quite ready to explain just yet but there are things going on with my oldest boy that are breaking my heart. I don’t have proper answers yet but what I do know is that we’re going to be in for a tough time of it. Again. And yes, I am feeling sorry for myself because quite frankly, it’s not bloody fair.

I’ve been a total mess but I’m starting to pull myself together now, for his sake, so I can get him the help he needs. I’ve done an awful lot of crying and wallowing though and I’m guessing there’s more to come.

See, this is how our kids fuck us up. They make us vulnerable because anything that hurts them or impacts on them in a negative way, hurts us a million times more. And I’ll be honest, I find it hard to deal with. Especially when everything is totally out of my control and nothing I do will change the outcome.

I’m sure it’s not healthy to love our kids to the extent that we do. For our whole happiness and wellbeing to depend on their happiness and wellbeing just cannot be healthy. And that’s how they fuck us up.

Get out as early as you can,

And don’t have any kids yourself.

Lately I’ve found myself telling people they really ought to consider not having any kids… ‘I mean, if you can live without them, do. Don’t put yourself through it…’ I said.

Now that my kids are here I love them with every fibre of my being, of course. I couldn’t live without them. But if I could stop my currently childless friends going through the pain that they bring, I would. I don’t buy into the ‘oh you need the tough times to appreciate the good times‘ school of thought either. I can do without the tough times. Honestly. They do nothing for me.

Just give me the good times, please. I promise I’ll appreciate them.

 

The Dangers of Boris Johnson

The debate about whether or not Britain should leave the EU (or Brexit, if you want to be cringey about it) has got me seriously considering whether it’s really in our best interests to allow everyone over the age of 18 to vote on the matter.

Most people I know seem woefully ill-equipped to cast a vote on an issue that will have huge social, political and economic ramifications. They know next to nothing about politics and even less about the European Union and what membership of it involves. In the coming months some of them will read around the subject, consider the pro arguments, consider the con arguments and then come to an informed decision. Some of them won’t bother. But most will still vote.

They will be swayed by the media. Be it the Guardian, Loose Women or even Facebook. And they will be influenced by the politicians and celebrities wading into the debate with their passionate and compelling arguments as to why Britain will thrive and all but take over the world if we exit the EU. Or wither away and probably sink into the sea if we dare to go it alone, depending on which camp they are in.

Which brings me to Boris Johnson. Just after he’d made his statement announcing that he would be backing the exit campaign a friend of mine who has very little interest in anything political said to me, ‘I bloomin’ LOVE Boris Johnson’. Yes. LOVE. Usually a politician counts themselves lucky if they are tolerated. Then on Friday night whilst watching Gogglebox I was aghast to hear the hilarious, orange one say the same thing! She loves Boris too. And what’s worse – she trusts him!

I am certain no other politician could compel my friend or the hilarious orange one from Gogglebox to declare feelings of love. Only Boris.

 

Boris Johnson © Wikipedia Creative Commons

 

Good old Boris. Or Bojo, if you prefer. Seemingly bumbling through life on his trusty bicycle, his hair flapping in the wind as he rides through London amongst the people that elected him to be their mayor. Most of whom he should probably have offended one way or another over the years, with his pro-hunting, anti-gay marriage, racist, elitist ramblings.

Except the man seems to be unable to offend because with hair that ridiculous how can anything he says be taken seriously anyway? But it is serious. Politics is serious. The decision on whether or not Britian should be in the EU is serious. And Boris isn’t actually bumbling through life at all. He’s just trying to make it appear that way. It’s part of his brand.

His brand that has become so popular it’s almost as if he is exempt from the standards by which all other politicians are judged. He has shown disdain for homosexuals, for black people, for working class people, for Muslims -basically for anyone that isn’t the same as him – and yet he was still elected to be London Mayor. How the hell did that happen? 

It happened because for some reason, people seem to think that when Boris is bigoted or prejudiced it’s just because he’s quirky. He is just making a stand against that old chestnut ‘political correctness gone mad’.

He’s just being honest.

He’s just saying what he really thinks.

That should be applauded shouldn’t it?

Oh wait, what he really thinks is racist?

Well, it’s just Boris, he doesn’t mean any harm.

Look at his hair! Ha ha ha!

But he is causing harm. Boris wrote that he was scared when he came across groups of black youths in parks and that racism was ‘natural’. Exactly what message was that giving out to society? That we should judge people based on the content of their character? No. That it is ok to judge people based on the colour of their skin. Because that’s what Boris Johnson does.

Owen Jones hit the nail on the head when he said “At the moment if Boris Johnson ran naked smothered in honey down Whitehall – people would go LOL Boris Johnson what a legend”. Utterly disturbing imagery, I know (why honey, Owen? So sticky…) but he’s right.

Boris tapped into a gap in the market for ridiculous, humorous, unkempt looking politicians and ran with it, appearing on programmes like Have I Got News For You and the Jonathan Ross Show to cement his ‘hey, I’m just here to have a laugh’ image and simultaneously peddle his ridiculous views. He actually said that bicycle helmets make no difference to cyclists if they are involved in road traffic accidents on one of those shows. What an idiotic thing to say. Why would he say that? Because it was of benefit to his career, that’s why. The man’s a self-serving imbecile. But a self-serving imbecile with a following.

And I admit, it’s often hard not to smile at some of his more trivial utterances and his posh, cheeky chappy sound-bites. But that’s all they are. Sound-bites. To reel us in.

He has cultivated this image of a say-it-how-it-is, no nonsense, loveable fool and gained a huge following of people who know next to nothing about politics but will vote for Boris because ‘he’s a legend’. They like him. They trust him. And now they will vote to leave the EU because he says we should.  And that is dangerous. Not least because Boris’ reasons for believing Britain should leave the EU seem to be unclear and are probably motivated by his own political ambitions.

Of course Boris isn’t the only high profile figure campaigning in this debate, but he is the most dangerous in my opinion. His title of politician affords him an automatic gravitas that he doesn’t deserve. He’s seen as a “legend” in today’s overused sense of the word, yes, but also an elected MP, so he must know what he’s talking about, right?

Even if he does (which I doubt) what makes people so willing to believe he has their best interests at heart? Why do they trust him? It’s no surprise that Boris ended up in politics. Yet another self-entitled, ex- Etonian, ex- Bullingdon Club, elitist to grace the Tory Party.

Usually such figures (and there are plenty to choose from) just don’t appeal to the average voter and why should they? They’re from another world. But Boris’ apparent likeability (which quite honestly, I can’t fathom) somehow masks all of the characteristics many would usually find pretty loathsome and gives him the added bonus of seeming trustworthy.

I don’t believe Boris has a clue what’s best for Britain in terms of the EU, or most other issues for that matter. That’s not to say he is stupid. To create and promote ‘Brand Boris’ took intelligence and guile and it has paid off. But even if we give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he has got a clue, let’s not be fooled into thinking that he cares about anything other than his own career or that he had the interests of the Great British public in mind when he announced that he would be standing firmly in the exit camp.

And it’s all such a shame for democracy. Yes, I understand that we should all have a say. No, I don’t have a better system to present to you. But can we really be totally comfortable knowing that there are potentially millions of people who know nothing at all about the EU and will be voting on Britain’s future based on the fact that they like Boris and his hair? So far it seems that his statement has made no difference to the polls but one eccentric, well publicised outburst from Boris and all that could change.

Just because you like Boris (and his hair) doesn’t mean he likes you. Or cares about you. He only cares about himself and people just like him. He’s fooling you.

And that’s why he’s so dangerous.

Project 366 – Day… who knows?!

Predictably, I’m woefully behind with Project 366. Once the OCD of keeping up to date wears off, full on laziness sets in. I have a photo from each day, I just haven’t uploaded them yet. 

  
Anyway, here is yesterday’s photo. That’s the 21st February. I’ll have to work out which Project 366 day that is when I catch up. 

Omar looks so different without all of his big bouncy curls. I don’t think I like it. The curls must stay. 

At What Age Should I Leave My Baby Overnight?

It started when my baby was 4 months old – my friends suggesting I leave him for a day and night to hang out with them. They are good friends, great friends, and I have no doubt they believed it would be good for me to be away from my kids for a night. To relax, to eat a meal without being interrupted every 10 seconds and to get some gorgeous, uninterrupted, deep sleep. It does sound good. Especially the sleep part. That sounds marvellous actually.

At 4 months old I wasn’t ready to leave my baby
But it was never going to happen that early on. My baby had a rocky start, which no doubt has made me super cautious with him. But regardless of that, I really don’t think I would’ve been ready to leave him at 4 months old, even if he hadn’t had heart surgery. I wasn’t ready to leave my first baby that early either. So I told my friends that and they accepted it.

My baby is now 7 months old and the issue has come up again and again. My friends and I would excitedly be arranging something through a group text chat and it would dawn on me that they were assuming we would have an overnight stay somewhere. And that I would be fine that. But I’m not. Not yet anyway.

And there’s another issue… my husband works unsociable hours and he wouldn’t be able to look after the kids if I was away for a night, so my mum would have to step in. Can I really ask her to have my baby overnight knowing that he is the world’s worst sleeper and still has at least one night feed? I don’t think I can. That’s assuming she was even free to look after my kids on the night in question. She still works part time and has other commitments that keep her really busy. It’s also assuming that she would agree to have the baby overnight and she won’t, she’s too worried he’ll stop breathing or turn blue.

Still not ready to leave him at 7 months.
But aside from all that, I am just not ready. Even if my mum was itching to have the baby overnight, or there was someone else I trusted to look after him, I’m not ready to leave him for that long. I’m not ready to not put him to bed and I’m not ready to not be there when he wakes.

Am I being clingy? Do I just need to convince my mum to have him overnight, bite the bullet and go? Or is it still too early and my friends just don’t get it? If it is too early, at what age should you leave your baby overnight?

I suppose the answer to the question is, when you’re ready. When you’re ready because you feel your baby’s ready. When your baby wouldn’t be distressed at you not being there. When a night away from your baby wouldn’t just be a huge worry-fest consisting of tears on the drive away and a million calls home. When you would actually be able to enjoy the time away to let your hair down and put yourself first for a little while.

I’m not there yet and I don’t know when I will be but I refuse to give myself a deadline of say 10 months, 1 year or even 2 years. When I feel ready I will leave my baby for a night but not a minute before.

My friends don’t get it, they think I’m being over-protective. They don’t say that but say other things like ‘oh your baby’s a tough cookie, he won’t even notice you’ve gone, don’t be silly…’ etc. They don’t seem to get that it’s me who isn’t ready for a night of separation yet. Or if they do get that, they think it’s totally unreasonable. 

And don’t get me wrong, I know there are some mums (and dads) who leave their baby’s overnight much earlier. Through choice or through necessity. I’m not saying they shouldn’t, or judging them at all. The same way I hope they wouldn’t judge me for not wanting to leave my baby yet. 

  
I don’t think there’s a golden rule when it comes to this issue. Except only leave them when you are ready to. Otherwise the night away won’t be any fun anyway and what’s the point in that? My view is that you may as well bank the babysitting hours for when you are ready to go all out and have a baby-free blast. 

I’d love to hear other people’s views on this. Do you agree with me or am I just being a massive mumbot?

Valentine Bore

  
Am I the only one not feeling the Valentine vibe? I don’t know why but I just can’t get into it. And I usually love an occasion. Any occasion will do – Pancake Day, Halloween, Eid, Christmas – I really get carried away and go to town on the celebrating. I LOVE the seasonal aisle in the supermarket, I love buying tat that will only be used for one day. I love it! I’m a brilliant example of a consumer. I fall for every cheesy advert going. 

But Valentines Day just fails to enthuse me. My Instagram feed tonight is full of photos of couples having romantic meals together and gushing captions about “forever Valentines” and “he still looks at me like he did when we first met”. I can’t get on board. It just makes me cringe. 

  
I was in Tesco on Friday, I saw the cards and what not and just couldn’t be bothered to have a look and choose one to give to my husband. I had even less inclination to think of a gift to get for him. For once I’m actually hoping he hasn’t bothered to get me a card or present either. (The chances of my hopes coming to fruition are very good.)

I briefly, for a split second, considered making one of those voucher books for him today so that I could whip it out on the off chance he does present me with a gift. You know the type of thing – ‘IOU breakfast in bed’, ‘IOU [insert an activity you really don’t want to do but occasionally feel you have to out of a sense of duty]’. Needless to say I thought better of it and ditched the idea. 

Am I just a hardened old hag who’s lost all of her sense of romance?! I really can’t work out why I’m not scattering rose petals about the place and demanding we exchange cards and presents whilst taking Instagram friendly photos. It’s a mystery. 

Little Snoopy Bargain! (Project 366 – Day 39)

  
Not the best photo of Zaki but how cute is this jumper?! My sister found it in H&M for the bargainous sum of £1! Yep, one English pound! 

We had a Snoopy video we watched over and over again when we were kids (although in hindsight it was really weird – Snoopy had a row with Charlie Brown, ran away from home, ended up encountering loads of ‘No Dogs Allowed’ signs and moved in with a girl who made him wear a dress and have tea parties.) But anyway, I’ve had a soft spot for Snoopy since then so I totes love this jumper.

Here’s hoping my sisters finds more £1 Snoopy bargains!
  

Swimming Lesson! (Project 366 – Day 38)

  

At Zaki’s last check up with his cardiologist he was given the all clear to go swimming so I bit the bullet and booked a course of swimming lessons for both boys with Puddle Ducks. 

My first impressions were good and both Omar and Zaki had a whale of a time. Omar really surprised me by following the instructions well and not having any tantrums at all, even when he got dunked! (By the instructor, not by me, although I was considering it.)

I’ll blog more about Puddle Ducks once we’ve been a few more times but I’m really hoping the boys continue to love it. So far so good!