I’m on the red-eye shift as I cradle my nine-week-old son with one arm as he sleepily gulps his warm milk, pausing at times to make appreciative sighs before hungrily going back for more. With his ravenous appetite sated (for at least two hours I hope), he melts back into my now aching arm, drifting off to a satisfied slumber. I gaze in a trance-like state at his pink, perfect face, happy that he’s content before realising that I need to burp him. I gently sit my squirming baby on my lap with his back as straight as he’ll allow and proceed to rub and pat until I hear the glorious sound of a burp. He grimaces and squeals, deeply irritated at not being allowed to remain asleep. But, he’s totally reliant on me to help him with his bodily functions until he’s old enough to burp and fart for himself.
Sonny was born on 18 June this year, nine days past my due date. Lazy, or taking after his laid back father, I’m not sure. Thankfully, I had an uncomplicated pregnancy. In fact, it didn’t feel real until my bump started to show at around six months. With this being my first pregnancy, I kept an open mind as to how my body might change. So, apart from a swelling tummy (and boobs), I was relatively unscathed from carrying a human being for 41 weeks. I had a water birth, as per my birthing plan and reluctantly stuck with gas and air despite repeated feverish pleadings for pain relief. Nothing can prepare you for childbirth, it’s really, really tough, but, it turns out, so am I. Furthermore, nothing can prepare you for the love, or the fear, or the indifference of other people who don’t have children. I say the latter because until I became a mother, I’d no clue of what being a mother entailed and how difficult it is (though my dear mother told me countless times as a pouting teenager).
When I was coming up for with the concept for this blog, I knew I wanted it to be inclusive of all women. I’m about womanhood, motherhood and parenthood. I fit into all those categories now. Up until I started trying for a baby, I didn’t consider myself maternal at all. Even now, I’m feeling my way through the dark as I juggle feeds, nappies (so much poo!), bath time, entertaining and comforting. I wouldn’t change it for the world of course. A very close friend and mum to a beautiful girl told me that the love you feel is like nothing else in the world. I’ve experienced love before of course, but the love you feel for your baby is so overwhelming, so ferocious, that you’d do literally anything for them. I’m a natural worrier and catastrophise constantly. There are so many dangers and you’re constantly bombarded with horror stories online. I remember taking Sonny out in his pram for the first time, I gripped the handle bar as tight as I could, imagining it somehow rolling away from me onto the path of an oncoming bus. Only recently have I started to breath normally and not in shallow gasps. I need to remember that all you can do is your best. Listen to your gut, only you know what’s best for your baby. That’s not to say you shouldn’t listen to advice, my mum is my first port of call for any niggles or worries I have (which are many!). As Baz Luhrman sagely put it, “Worrying is about as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind.”
I hope you’ll join me on my journey through motherhood, as a woman and a mother. I’ll be writing about anything and everything, what terrifies me, what inspires me and what irritates me. I know there will be many ups and downs, but it’s how you handle the curve balls that life deals you that count.
This isn’t a mushy post. Having a baby brings a lot of joy but babies are also a massive handful. Here are 13 things about Sonny that drive me around the bend. Oh, this also coincides with Sonny being 13 months old.
This is a bizarre ritual he does when he is annoyed or frustrated. He arches his back and propels his head forward with such force that he’s nearly broken my nose several times. This usually means he’s tired but it’s very unnerving and yes, annoying.
Leave the cat alone!
You can kind of see how a walking ball of fluff might be of amusement to a baby. Sonny grins and gurgles when he sees Rex, our rescue cat that has been bossing our household for two years and treats our son with utter disdain. You can hardly blame him. Sonny pulls his tail and grabs tufts of his fur. I do hope these two can eventually see eye to eye, but for now, it’s furball v wrecking ball.
Banging the shower door
Ah, the joys. When you’re a mum, getting an interrupted shower is a thing of luxury. The only times I can get a shower now without Sonny banging on the door is at the weekend. During the week, Sonny props himself up against the shower door, pressing in his little, adorable face, his tiny fists thudding. This is not conducive to a relaxing shower, however amusing.
Playing twister during nappy changes
I can only describe it as changing an octopus. Sonny flails his arms and legs when I attempt to change his nappy. This is much trickier than you might think, especially if he’s done a poo. On top of that, he screams. I mean, how dare I change his dirty nappy when he has important baby business to be getting on with?
Food, my phone (which now has a cracked screen), my laptop, his soothers, well just about anything he can get his little hands on. Banana is particularly irksome when dropped as it turns into yucky brown goo when you step on it – which I always do. It impossible to keep your home clean and tidy with an almost toddler so I just give up until I can’t stand the mess anymore. Another thing, why does he throw away his freshly sterilised soother one second after sticking it in his mouth? Arrrrgh.
Playing with my makeup
Sonny loves getting his chubby little mitts on my makeup. I make the mistake of leaving my makeup bag unzipped in the bathroom. He takes out every single item, inspects and sticks in his mouth. He has broken my new MAC eyeshadow too. Sigh. I’ve also lost a beloved Stila cream blusher after he jettisoned it after becoming bored with it. At least this constant state of flux means I am much more vigilant than Davina pre-baby. Plus, I do have the most annoying habit of not tightening lids on jars, bottles, not closing cupboards, doors, etc. So, I guess, thank you Sonny!
As I mentioned above, Sonny has a thing about emptying the contents of the fridge, the cupboard, the coffee table drawer, the dresser cupboard. Just about anything you haven’t had the good sense to close or secure. Just about any mundane object is of interest to him. Toys are a waste of money!
Taking (just one) shoe off
This phenomenon has earned him the moniker of ‘Sonny One Sock’. This also applies to shoes. He either hates having his feet being covered or he is just displaying a rather adorable if annoying idiosyncrasy.
Getting into the bath fully clothed
Bath time. You see pictures of adorable babies with suds on top of their heads having a right old time in the bath. Sonny hates being undressed and dressed so bath time is a constant source of conflict. He also hates the extremely short transition from bath to the towel. Of course, he doesn’t mind drenching me whilst in the bath. The other day, Sonny was positioned next to the bathtub while I turned my back to retrieve a towel. Next thing, Sonny is in the bath fully clothed. That was not fun.
Rubbing food into his hair
I love when Sonny is bathed, his hair shiny and smelling gorgeous. This is a pleasure which only lasts for a few minutes as he has a knack of rubbing everything into his hair. If he has a runny nose, it ends up in his hair. If he eats a Farley rusk, it ends up in his hair, you get the picture.
Grubby handprints in every mirror
Our house resembles the scene from the creepy house in Blair Witch. His little paw prints can be seen on just about every mirror of the house. It’s worse if he has got hold of one of my lipsticks. I was pretty alarmed at seeing plum smudges on his fingers and feet. Yes, he got hold of my lovely Clarins lipstick. Well, it used to be lovely.
Pulling off my glasses
Arrrgh. Maybe the most annoying. My beloved RayBan’s are knackered. I really, really need another pair but they’re also a luxury I can’t afford right now. He loves plucking them from my face when I’m working on my laptop. Next thing, the lenses are covered in smudges and I can’t see a thing. He, of course, finds this hilarious before firing them across the floor. Sigh.
Who needs an Andrex puppy?
Toilet roll. The source of endless fascination for babies. I can’t count the number of times he has unraveled a full roll before crawling away with it trailing behind him. It is of course, bloody adorable but again, really annoying when he’s made off with the last few pieces and you really need the loo.
Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way for all the tea in China – but maybe all the wine in France? Just kidding. All the above is forgiven when I gaze into his huge deep blue eyes, his fibre optic lashes, his luminous, chubby cheeks, his utterly cute bottom two teeth, his squeak/grunt when I pull him really close. OK, so it has become a mushy post but I’m not sorry. He is truly amazing, an angel, if a really annoying one.
I was lucky to have an uncomplicated pregnancy. I didn’t gain much weight despite binging on Fruit-tella and doughnuts. I had no morning sickness. My ankles didn’t swell and I didn’t feel uncomfortable until the last few weeks. My darling, lazy son Sonny didn’t come on his due date, preferring to extend his cozy stay for another week, while I waddled around our home looking like a hot mess, cleaning windows (so unlike me) and anxious to see his little pink face. I was booked in for an induction so I prayed for my waters to break, trying the usual things that are recommended, curry, herbal tea, and a little red wine. I waited for signs, had a false alarm, furiously scrolled on my phone, sighing loudly at unhelpful comments “you’ll know”. Heck, was that true. My contractions started in my lower back on Sunday evening. I was on all fours crying like a total wuss while my husband (unhelpfully) massaged my back like he was shown in antenatal classes. As my contractions got closer together I called the hospital, sobbing from the acute pain. That was nothing – mother nature had a lot more up her sleeve – was this some sort of karma for having an easy pregnancy? As a first-time mum, nothing can prepare you for what labour is going to be like, no matter how many hypnobirthing books you read. The pain was excruciating but, somehow, I sort of coped with gas and air. Sonny arrived in the birthing pool at 10.10am on Monday weighing 8lbs and 7 oz. I remember the sun streaming through the windows – Sonny was a fitting name. I had only minor tears thankfully and it wasn’t long before I everything returned to normal. I was lucky. Many, many women suffer complications and experience birth trauma. Many women suffer prolapse with symptoms of bladder and bowel dysfunction, urinary stress incontinence, pelvic floor dysfunction and in some cases, fecal incontinence. It’s horrifying. While I didn’t suffer any issues, it doesn’t make any less passionate about highlighting them.
Mind the (tummy) gap
Still, when you have a baby, you feel invincible, like you can face just about anything. I mean, you’ve carried a human being for nine months – and pushed it out. As I climbed the stairs to the clinic where I was to have my Mummy MOT, I thought (and panted) to myself, “well, it can’t be that bad”. Well, you’ll be very glad to know it wasn’t. A Mummy MOT is a specialist postnatal examination for women following both vaginal and caesarean deliveries. Giving birth is an endurance test that requires a massive amount of effort. While it’s a natural process, it’s obvious that giving birth is going to take a massive toll on our bodies. A Mummy MOT assesses how your posture, pelvic floor muscles, and stomach muscles are recovering after birth. Up to half of all women experience weakness in both the abdominal muscles and pelvic floor muscles after pregnancy and up to a third still have a gap in their tummy at eight weeks post birth which can cause instability or poor core strength leading to women developing pelvic pain or bladder, bowel, and sexual dysfunction. Sobering stuff. Following your Mummy MOT, you are given a personal exercise and activity plan.
I sat down with my lovely physiotherapist Sally Laverty. We went over my medical history and I gave her the details of my birth and if I was having any postnatal issues. My body is fairly unscathed but lately, I have been experiencing what can only be described as a ‘creak’ in my lower back when I twist and some pelvic discomfort when I sit down. I had to perform simple exercises like bending over, squatting and lunging. So far so good. Next was the examination part. I lay on a bed and Sally felt all around my torso, establishing weak, tight spots. Sally also felt around my neck and shoulders, commenting on the extremely tight knots. Yes, I have a bad habit of hunching over when I am nervous or anxious. I knew what was coming. The Mummy MOT includes an internal pelvic exam and so you are required to remove the bottom half of your clothing. It’s really not as bad as it sounds. Believe me, I am the most squeamish, scaredy-cat you will ever meet. For some context, it takes longer than a smear test but it isn’t as uncomfortable. To be honest, the worst parts of the Mummy MOT were my tight muscles being pressed and massaged. An hour elapsed fairly quickly and Sally gave me exercises to do at home to strengthen my body – and even develop a six pack! A few hours later, an email pinged in my inbox and Sally listed her findings. In the interests of openness (and doing Sally justice), I’ve listed them below.
Tight hip muscles, notably hamstrings, piriformis and adductors.
Some increased muscle tone on the left of the pelvic floor.
3.4/5 muscle strength on a pelvic floor contraction.
Poor endurance of the pelvic floor muscles.
Good recovery of the abdominal wall (only a 1cm separation of the rectus abdominus muscles with good tensile strength of the linea alba underneath.
Flaring of the left rib cage.
I’ll admit, I haven’t heard of some of the terms used and I giggled at how much ‘rectus abdominus’ sounds a lot like a dinosaur. ‘Poor endurance of the pelvic floor muscles’ made a lot of sense seeing that during labour, I wasn’t pushing. Well, I was pushing, but I certainly wasn’t using my pelvic floor. On a serious note, I was blown away by how comprehensive the assessment was. Here I was, being smug about how my body had ‘snapped back’ while all these underlying issues were going on. It’s a very serious matter and if I take my health seriously, it’s up to me to be responsible – especially if baby number two was to come along. Sally also recommended that I drink more water (which I’m terrible at) take probiotics, do yoga each evening and use a meditation app like Calm – “body scans are fantastic,” she said. Sally says some women can feel quite emotional after a pelvic exam as it’s a release of tension. I didn’t experience a surge of emotions but I definitely felt a lot lighter.
All mums should have an MOT
Maria Elliot, mummy, physiotherapist, and founder of The Mummy MOT says: “All mums should have an MOT. Pregnancy takes a lot. The body is lengthened and stretched and then you deliver your baby with a person you’ve never met. Pushing weakens the pelvic floor so it’s important to do postnatal rehab exercises.” She says the most common postnatal issues women experience are prolapse symptoms, which is akin to heaviness and dragging and fear of organs falling out, pelvic floor weakness and urinary incontinence. Some women even have pelvic girdle pain up to 12 weeks after giving birth.
Maria’s mission is that women’s postnatal issues are resolved or fixed before going back to work. She recommends that women book their Mummy MOT between six and eight weeks for a vaginal delivery and before 12 weeks for a caesarean. Her message is clear – postnatal rehab works. As a new mum, I couldn’t recommend a Mummy MOT enough, in fact, I’m going to make sure I tell every mum I know about it. Your baby is everything, but so are you. Self-care will make you the best mum you can be, and don’t we and our babies deserve the best?
It’s hard to believe how much my life has changed in just one year. There’s no question that becoming a mother changes you, your priorities, your life. It’s a heady mix of sleepless nights, frustration, anxiety and unequivocal joy. For the first time in a long time, the stars are perfectly aligned. The trajectory of my life has changed. I know good things are coming.
There’s a saying that children keep you young. I’ve always wondered how that can be, surely having children ages you?! That may be the case but when you have a baby, but certainly, you see the world through different eyes (albeit with bags under them).
Everything is new to a baby, everything interests them. They have no fears, which is why they often do themselves a mischief – on a side note, Sonny is a little headbanger – he should really wear a helmet. Yes, there’s much you can learn from little people. They see the world with wide-eyed innocence – free from any constraints, social or otherwise. I think you have to see the world through a child’s eyes – to truly appreciate life. Yes, we all have our war wounds from heartache and disappointments but it’s so exhilarating to look at the world with fresh eyes, excited for the future.
Over the past twelve months, I’ve seen my son (it still feels so strange and so lovely to say that still) transform from a tiny baby to a gregarious, fun loving little boy. Every day is a big adventure for him. There is something so joyous about seeing your beautiful baby smile, eyes clear, wide and bright. You look forward to the future, seeing your child grow up and become a strong, confident woman or man. It’s been 373 days since I became a mum and I have a million reasons to be happy, to be the best mum I can be and to achieve everything I want in life. By far, Sonny is the best thing to happen to me and I want to make sure he gets everything he wants in life too.
I really hope you are enjoying my journey into motherhood and parenthood. It’s been lovely having you to share my thoughts with. I hope you will stick with me while I navigate the early years, the terrible twos (and threes and fours). I’m learning each day, just as my baby is. And I know the best is yet to come, for both of us. It really is a wonderful life.
I’d love to hear your feedback, or anything you’d like me to write about. Just let me know.Davina xx
One of the most challenging obstacles of parenthood is getting your baby into a bedtime routine. For the most part, it’s trial and error, but establishing good sleep hygiene early on will make you and your little one’s life a lot easier (and happier). It really is a lottery as to whether you get a ‘good sleeper’. Some babies can sleep for 12-hour stretches, while others can wake up every hour. Speaking as a first-time mum, my little boy Sonny took about eight months to get into a routine. As a newborn, Sonny was a very noisy sleeper. He was also a colicky baby and used to writhe around his cot, body popping. He fed every two-three hours. As someone who loves their sleep, and would regularly be in bed for 10.30pm before having a baby, this was a major shock to my system. Still, I coped with coffee, napping during the day when Sonny slept and just knowing this phase would pass, although it didn’t feel like that at the time. However, if you already have a toddler or older children in the house, I know naps will be nigh impossible. But, you cope. We’re superhuman like that.
Like any new mum, I hovered over my little bundle, listening for his gentle breathing, placing my quivering hand on his chest, watching it rise and fall. You imagine every worst case type scenario there is. I was hyper-sensitive, worrying about SIDS, questioning every sound. “Is he too warm? Too cold? Is that a rash?” Still, babies survived before guidelines even existed so you do your very best and if you’re not sure, always ask for help. Although those days with my eyes on stalks are a blurry memory, I got through it and could maybe even do it again.
Recently, I brought Sonny to a Settled Petals sleep workshop. It was somewhat fitting, that he dragged his bedtime bunny. Now, a plucky one-year-old, he is sleeping 12 hours at night. Yes, I’m very lucky (for now) but his daytime naps are irregular and some days he doesn’t nap at all. While he goes down anytime between 6pm and 8pm, I would like his bedtime to about 7pm. In our house, Sonny’s bedtime routine begins with drawing the blinds, a warm bottle, a bath (not every night), a book, and then popping Sonny in his sleeping bag and putting on Ewan the Dream Sheep, which we’ve used since the first night he came home. It also has a red light, which is supposed to remind baby of being inside the womb. Sonny also can’t sleep without his beloved Jellycat grey bunny. It’s recommended you don’t put any toys in your baby’s cot before they are six-months-old though.
Certified Sleep Consultant Susan Wallace is incredibly knowledgeable and the workshop was full of mums, a dad, beautiful babies, and curious crawlers – Sonny being the worst offender. Tea, coffee, and buns are offered at the start, the latter was snatched from my hand by Sonny and promptly disintegrated into a thousand crumbs on the yoga mat we were sat on. He spent the rest of the class, being a little nuisance, wrestling me for my notepad and pen. I still picked up on some of Susan’s many excellent points. Susan set up her business just six months ago and has since worked with 231 families who have booked into the service for either sleep, baby yoga or massage.
Susan began the class explaining how are our modern sleeping patterns mirror how our ancestors slept. When we slept in groups, individuals would wake up at 1.5 hourly intervals to check for danger and tend to the fire. Susan says we enter light sleep frequently throughout the night and do a full body ‘scan’, this is to check if we are too hot, too cold or if we need the toilet. If all is well, we’ll just drift back to sleep. Little babes, of course, will scream the house down until their needs are met.
Susan says that we, as adults, use ‘sleep props’, the most obvious being our duvet. It would seem very strange to us to lie down in bed without pulling something over us. Babies need props too. Strategies that we employ include feeding and rocking to sleep. It can be very difficult for a baby to self-settle if they are used to either of these, nonetheless effective strategies. Self-settling is the holy grail. It’s worth pointing out that babies don’t make melatonin for six to eight weeks. And when they do, breastfeeding mums will want to avoid feeding their baby milk containing cortisol at night and milk containing melatonin during the day. Another thing to be aware of is ‘sleep pressure’. And I’m not talking about the pressure we feel to get our babies to sleep! Sleep pressure is an unconscious biological process that makes us want to sleep. without enough sleep pressure built up, we (and babies) won’t be able to settle or sleep for long. This is were nap time comes in. The first nap of the day is the easiest as there is enough sleep pressure built up from the night before. However, if a baby has a really long morning nap, there won’t be enough sleep pressure for an afternoon nap, resulting in your baby getting overtired, making them even more awake come bedtime. It really is a quandary. With that in mind, a shorter morning nap is to be encouraged so baby has enough sleep pressure for an afternoon nap. Susan says the last nap of the day predicts when a baby will wake up.
As well as understanding the science, there are practical things you can do to help boost your baby’s melatonin. Susan says that night lights aren’t the best idea, especially the ones that emit a white or blue glow. A red glow, she says, is “less detrimental” to sleep so choose lights and light up toys with care. Buy blackout blinds for the nursery and your own bedroom if necessary, play continuous white noise and remove stimulating toys. If you breastfeed, you can buy a Meemoobaby Meelight that attaches to you for night feeds.
If you have a colicky baby, add the bedtime bottle to the start of the routine and keep baby upright for at least half an hour. If you use formula, stir the milk, don’t shake it. This might sound obvious but I always shook the bottle, thinking I needed to do that to mix the formula. You don’t. Susan says to hold your baby over your right shoulder to get gas up.
For the first three to four weeks, Susan says to hold and touch your baby as much as possible – and keep it up. She says that slings are brilliant for keeping small babies close to you. Swaddling is also beneficial for the newborn days – although getting the technique right is very important. A fascinating article by Green Child Magazine highlights a 2017 study published in Development and Psychopathology. It found that infant touch “can affect babies at a molecular level, and the positive results can last for years.” The article also states that babies who do not receive adequate human interaction and especially the loving touch, can become depressed or anxious and are prone to anti-social behaviour in later life.
Creating an environment that is similar to being in the womb is key – which for an adult is like being in a hammock (nice). For the first six months, nothing should in the crib or Moses basket other than a sheet over the mattress, to reduce the risk of SIDS. If you choose to co-sleep, ensure there are no pets in the bedroom and do not drink or smoke. Also, never fall asleep with your baby on a sofa. After six months, you can place a comforter, toy or just a t-shirt you have worn for a few days and tie it up in a knot. Your baby will be immensely comforted by your scent.
You can also look out for sleeping cues like rubbing eyes and looking away, which babies tend to do when they are feeling overwhelmed. Also, Susan says, batting your baby’s bum is a good way to comfort them as it reminds them of bobbing about in the womb.
From nine to 12 months, your baby may experience separation anxiety. You can help combat this with sleep training using ‘The Chair in the Room’ and ‘The Kissing Game’. There is also the ‘Wake to Sleep’ method, which encourages infants to self-settle if they are early morning larks – of which 10% of babies are.
I hope this blog is helpful to new mums or mums who are experiencing sleep issues with their little ones. Susan offers a wealth of information in her workshops and I’d highly recommend them. Susan works closely with families who need a little extra help too. She also offers baby massage, baby yoga, and children’s yoga classes, all of which are known to increase sleep quality in children.
I learned an awful lot from the workshop, it was absolutely fascinating. Yes, all babies are different and unpredictable but having knowledge is very empowering and it’s also comforting to know that you aren’t the only mum or dad going through a rough time.
This blog post will be short and sweet, much like my son’s new haircut. Sonny was born with a shock of black hair. I had really bad heartburn but I don’t know if that’s related or just an old wives’ tale. I thought this fluffy ‘baby’ hair might fall out to be replaced with new hair but it didn’t. It just got lighter. Both my husband are both follicly blessed. I have thick, coarse hair that needs a professional blow-dry to look shiny and bouncy while my husband – now a silver fox – has healthy, thick hair. I too was born with lots of dark hair. As a child, my hair was my crowning glory – or so my mum says. But, it’s been through a lot since then, from bleaching, colouring, ironing (yup – a clothing iron!), then various straighteners until I bought my first pair of GHD’s – a complete godsend. I love getting my hair coloured and see it as a real treat. But, I can understand why little ones might be frightened by someone coming at them with a pair of scissors.
I remember as a young girl going to a hair salon for a ‘trim’, as opposed to a ‘cut’. The instructions from my dear mum was to get it trimmed, I should point out. But then, somehow, I ended up with most of my thick, chestnut mane lopped off. I’ve no idea how this came to be but I went from feeling quite grown up to feeling traumatised. Sure, it would grow back but I still felt like I’d lost a limb. I think as adults, we get our hair cut to signify a new chapter in our life, much like the song ‘I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair’, you cut out whatever negativity is going on in your life, such as an ex, for example. Women are emotionally attached to their hair, they wear it like an armour. You’ve heard the phrase, having a ‘bad hair day’. You feel good when your hair is done, my mum would testify to this – her hair is always immaculate, and so would most of the women I know. Most days, my hair is scraped into a top knot, but when it’s done, I feel my best.
Sonny, unfettered by traumatic experiences in the hands of a hairdresser, took his first trim like a man. He seemed completely unfazed by his locks being snipped off at my regular salon Paul Meekin Hair. I looked at Sonny, propped up in the barber’s chair, feeling teary, proud and totally in love. I brought a little bag to collect his tawny hair clippings, which I’ll keep in a little memory box. Later, I came across an article online of things you should do to prevent your baby’s first haircut being a ‘traumatic’ experience. It hadn’t even occurred to me bring an iPad or snacks or some of the things suggested. So, either I got off very lightly or maybe going to the hairdressers isn’t so bad after all. My husband goes to the barber every four weeks while I’m lucky if I get my hair cut and coloured three or four times a year. If Sonny’s hair grows as fast as mine, I’m going to have to sell a kidney… but, finances aside, Sonny getting his first hair cut was a stress-free experience for us both. It did help that Paul’s two cute little dogs were running around at his feet, fascinated by my squealing with delight, grinning baby. They say the first cut is the deepest, but for us, it was the sweetest.
There’s no place like home. But, sometimes you can imagine yourself living elsewhere. For me, that place is Italy. My husband and I visited Florence and Tuscany a few years ago and I fell in love with the place, the delicious food, the beautiful architecture, the musical language, the chic style, and of course, the climate. We spent our days wandering cobbled streets, basking in the warm sunshine, cooling down with gelato, sipping on Chianti and gorging on pizza and pasta. We made a promise to return so instead of buying presents for each other last Christmas we booked flights to Venice. It would also be Sonny’s first foreign trip. I was quite nervous of how he’d deal with the flight and just being in new surroundings. The flight to Venice, which I imagined I’d be pacing the aisle the entire way, was almost without incident. We ended up chatting to an American bar owner called Ben and the two and a half hours flew in, so to speak. Sonny got a little grouchy when he got tired, and it isn’t easy to get comfortable on a budget airline, but eventually, he fell asleep cradled in my arms.
As with all trips away, organisation is key and something which doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m the kind of person who loves having a diary but rarely uses it. Although we were away for just under a week, we ended up with two large suitcases, a rucksack, and a small sports bag. I wrote a list which looked like I was moving abroad. As well as all the obligatory cute outfits for Sonny (and sun hats he never wore), there was a zillion nappies, formula, wet wipes, a sleeping bag, bodysuits, soothers, teething gel, teethers, Calpol, snacks. The list goes on. Then there was my case full of new purchases from ASOS, Topshop and Boden. I love having new clothes for holiday, it’s part of the enjoyment. For a week or so, you can be someone who eats out every day, has a Mimosa for breakfast, Chianti every night and two changes of clothes every day. Or is that just me?! Something I wasn’t expecting was to sail through security. We were ushered to fast track both in Belfast and Venice. Me and my husband shared a smug moment, there are perks to having a baby after all. Heh.
We stayed in a simple, bright and clean apartment in Padua. The location was key as we wanted to take day trips to Venice and Verona. I’ve always dreamed of taking a gondola trip and visiting Juliet’s balcony. After a day acclimatising in Padua and paying for an expensive lunch because we were tired and went into the first restaurant we saw, we went on a day trip to Venice. It’s another world. You step off the train and a few steps away and you’re on Grand Canal – a bustling waterway with working boats, vaporettos and the more garish of the gondolas. We walked a little, stopping for a gelato on the way of course (which Sonny devoured), taking in the sights, joking at how much a tall, broad man wearing a Breton top looked a lot like a Bond villain. I spotted an empty, slightly less cheesy gondola and approached to get a price for the three of us. “Ciao!”, I said cheerily to the gondolier, who turned out to be said Bond villain. Some 80 euros later and we were being rowed under the most beautiful bridges feeling (at least me) amazing. Although I couldn’t help myself capturing the moment on my phone, I felt completely in the moment. I loved it. I clutched Sonny tight, while he clutched his new bunny (as I left his beloved Jelly Cat bunny in our car in Belfast). After our trip, we had a glass of vino frizzante by the canal and realised we were one down. The bunny was gone. We retraced our steps but bunny was nowhere to be seen. I still wonder what became of the little toy. I hope it found a good home and didn’t end up in the canal…
Our journey home was memorable for all the wrong reasons. My dear hubby forgot to validate our tickets but we boarded our train, hoping we wouldn’t get caught. We were approached by a sullen, po-faced jobsworth, who delighted in pointing out that we hadn’t validated our ticket and were therefore subject to a 60 euro fine. My husband, stubborn at the best of times, refused to pay, citing that we were foreigners with a screaming baby. Sonny, as if picking up on the tension, proceeded to have a meltdown. The ticket man stood beside us, refusing to budge until we paid the penalty, while hubby stood his ground. Eventually, he got back up in the form of a formidable, extremely brusque manager (who was annoyingly attractive). I slipped on my sunglasses to hide my rabbit in the headlights eyes and politely explained the situation. We got no sympathy. Our options were to pay, give up our passports or get arrested. I didn’t fancy any of the options but I knew I just wanted to get off that train. We were left with no choice but pay the fine. While hubby was raging, I was determined not to let this spoil our trip. It didn’t. But, at least we’ll have something to talk (and laugh) about for years to come.
On the third day, we braved the train again to go to fair Verona. Sonny, it turns out, loves the train and spent much of his time waving at other passengers, especially the female ones. It’s a short walk from the train station to the historic part of the city. As well as being beautiful, it’s a shopping mecca, although you’d need credit cards with no limits to buy anything. We followed the throngs to Juliet’s House, the gothic-style setting said to have inspired Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. It felt very surreal to watch tourists take selfies on the balcony. My heart fluttered, the kind I get when I’m shopping. It was just 6 Euro to wander around Juliet’s house and get the perfect Insta pic. My poor hubby was left with instructions and I joined the queue of people all wanting the perfect shot. The girl in front of me was pulling silly poses for what seemed like an eternity while I patiently waited for my chance. Finally, the balcony was mine. I walked out and scoured the crowd for my husband, camera ready. All of the poses I had in mind went out the window and I ended up leaning on the balcony grinning, feeling a little silly. But, I checked another thing off my bucket list – and got evidence.
The next day, we made a perhaps ill-advised trip to Lido de Venezia, it was a train journey and a trip on a ferry. It took a while to get there, but I was optimistic that it would be worth it. Husband got a little grumpy as he hates boats, but I was absorbing the experience like a sponge. A kind Italian woman approached me with a ribbon to attach Sonny’s soother, as he kept throwing it away. I’d forgotten the Baby & More Pacigrip we take everywhere with us. In fact, I was quite struck with the kindness of the Italian people. They just love babies. Some stopped to offer us directions, others offered their seat to me. Aside, from the nasty train man, I was really touched by all the little acts of kindness shown to us. Eventually, we reached Lido and there wasn’t a beach in sight. Husband and I bickered, having made quite a long journey and facing the prospect of yet another bus or taxi. However, the beach was a short walk away, thankfully. The ocean breeze beckoned and we walked barefoot in the warm sand towards the sea. Sonny had his very first paddle. It was a little too nippy for him but it was so amazing for him to have his first experience at the beach. On the way back, we stopped off the most gorgeous little restaurant called Parco delle Rose. It was perfect because while we needed shade from the sun, we were still outside in a lush, verdant space. One of the older male waiters was particularly taken with Sonny and the two played peek-a-boo while husband and I indulged in incredible food and a tipple. Fed and watered, and a nappy change and we headed back to the ferry terminal. We were feeling a little sleepy from being in the sun and day drinking and figured we could probably get a disco nap in. As the ferry left the terminal, the sea was pretty rough. I wasn’t bothered and with Sonny haven drifted off already, I closed my eyes, the motion of the vessel lulling me to sleep. The next thing I knew, I took in a mouthful of salt water, I spluttered, gasping for breath as a huge wave came through a small window, that hadn’t been shut. Me and husband were drenched, as was Sonny who squealed. The next thing we knew, towels were being ushered our way and I quickly wrapped our screaming bundle in about three large white towels. He was soon chattering and smiling while I resembled a drowned rat, my lovely sun hat destroyed. We somehow managed to see the funny side. We alighted and got Sonny changed into dry clothes – for some reason I’d packed another outfit that day. We made our way to our apartment, picked off the seaweed (true story), showered, dressed and headed out for supper at Ham Holy Burger. They were heavenly.
Italy wasn’t without its hiccups but overall, it was an incredible trip. I got to do things I’d dreamed about and most of all, we shared the experience with our little son. It’s pretty magical sharing new experiences with a little human you have created. We certainly plan to see more of the world with our boy. I loved everything about Italy. It wasn’t perfect, more perfectly imperfect. Of all the places in the world I’ve visited, I feel compelled to return. Aside from the climate, it’s the beautiful buildings, the morning cappuccinos in the sun, the older women wearing silk scarves around their neck, young women with perfect red lipstick and DM boots. The rich food, the incredible wine. Italy owns a little piece of my heart. Grazie, Italy. Life is a rich tapestry, made up of the memories you make with the people you love. At the end, that is all that matters, not the clothes you wore, or how many likes you got on social media. Memories with people that matter. Italy… arrivederci.
As a new mum, it’s rare you get a night to yourself and those nights, whether spent with a family member or friend are so precious. As a blogger and writer I’m always looking for experiences. I was lucky to be invited to Company the Musical at the Grand Opera House. I brought along a good friend and of course we enjoyed an obligatory pre-theatre tipple (as well as an apres-theatre French Martini obvs). There is something quite magical about watching live theatre. It’s so immersive and the atmosphere is palpable. It was a full-house and we settled into our seats close to the action. The staging was very impressive and the on-stage orchestra set the big city New York scene. The original production of Stephen Sondheim’s Company was nominated for a record-setting fourteen Tony Awards and won six. Sondheim said he wanted Company to be a form of escapism. “Broadway theatre has been for many years supported by upper-middle-class people with upper-middle-class problems. These people really want to escape that world when they go to theatre.”
Director James Huish makes his return to the Grand Opera House with this brilliant musical comedy. He says: “Company is a snapshot of being married, being single, and the pressures modern society puts on us to be stereotyped. It’s based on every day relationships and so within the show there is someone that everyone can relate to and is a hilarious journey of self-discovery set to Stephen Sondheim’s amazing songs.”
The plot revolves around Robert (Bobby Bubbi/Bobby Baby), a seemingly commitment-phobic, yet popular, handsome, single man about to turn 35. He is surrounded by five well-meaning, if a little eccentric married and engaged couples. The musical is composed of short vignettes, presented in no particular chronological order. Nothing is fairy-tale, and one couple, the likeable Peter and Susan are going through an oddly amicable divorce, while another, Sarah and Harry snip at each constantly. Harry sings “You’re always sorry. You’re always grateful. You’re always wondering what might have been. Then she walks in.” Neurotic Amy has cold feet before her wedding. The oldest and most cynical (and most divorced) of Robert’s friends is Joanne who puts in a solid performance with rousing vocals. In her knowing solo ‘The Little Things You Do Together’, she muses: “It’s the little things you are together, Swear Together, Wear Together, That make perfect relationships. The concerts you enjoy together, Neighbours you annoy together, Children you destroy together, That keep marriage intact.”
Bobby (Mark Tilley) watches on as the couples in his life navigate the ups and downs of married life. In turn, his best friends (especially the men) long for even “one hour” of being single. His female friends long for him to find a girl and settle down. He has no shortage of female admirers and enjoys a fling with slow-witted but hilarious airline flight attendant April. He also has dalliances with outlandish Marta, the self-coined “soul of New York” and Kathy, whom he dated previously and both admitted to considering marrying one another. However, she tells him she is leaving for Cape Town with a new fiance. Bobby is conflicted, a good person, with friends who adore him, but he wants knows is missing something. He wants: “Someone to hold me too close, Someone to hurt me too deep. Someone to sit in my chair, And Ruin my sleep, And make me aware, Of being alive. Being Alive.”
You are routing for him to find love, but we’re not even sure if even he knows what he wants. His perception of marriage is shaped by his friends and he is very wary of becoming entrapped in a union that may not last, for whatever reason. However, despite his doubts, he still yearns to “Feel Alive”. At the start of the musical, his friends urged him to blow out his birthday candles, which he didn’t. Perhaps not wanting to believe in whimsical fantasies. The end is a little unsatisfying as we don’t know if Robert will find love, but someone, he seems satisfied with his lot.
I’m so glad I’m not in the dating game anymore. I can’t stand the games that people play (and that I played myself in a bid to be “keep ’em mean, keep ’em clean). I was also a self-saboteur when it came to a few relationships. They didn’t work out for a reason and my now hubby whom I met aged 32, was my first ‘proper’ boyfriend. I never thought love was for me, after spending most of my twenties single. Now, I can’t imagine my life without my partner or my baby. It is funny how life turns out. It’s not a bed a roses and I’d be lying if I said it were. But, it is the little things that makes a marriage. For me, snuggling into my husband’s chest before going to sleep, laughing at something silly on TV, or just being with one another not feeling the need to talk.
Company the Musical is great fun, and perfect for a girls’ night out. It’s upbeat, energetic, with a dose of sentimentality thrown in to give an all-rounded feel-good theatre experience. You can always gauge how good a show is by its audience and there was a constant trickle of belly laughs, giggles and applause throughout. It’s the perfect company for the weekend.
You can still catch Company the Musical tonight and tomorrow at the Grand Opera House.
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