To my infuriating sod...

Sometimes, with a son like ours.

Who easily steals the show. 

I forget who stole my heart first.

It was you.

Sometimes, when life gets hard.

And you seem to add to the problems.

I forget who has always been there.

Always you.

Today you turned a year older.

You’ve finally caught me up. 

I watched you as cards were opened.

Just you.

Tall, dark, blue eyed, fair skinned.

I know how good I’ve got it.

Eyes turn to you in a room.

Yes, you.

I’m trying to remember.

What it was like when we were just us.

A duo, a team, together.

Me and you.

Life is a little different now.

A little person runs the show.

The three of us - our family.

Him, me, you.

I’m sorry that sometimes I hate you.

When we don’t see eye-to-eye.

When you refuse to put things where they belong.

Difficult you.

But Stephen, I don’t want another.

You infuriating sod.

You changed my life for the better.

And I love you.

Happy birthday. 

Looking back...

Recently, I've been looking back a lot. Looking back to my pre-baby days. Looking back on my achievements. Looking back on my pregnancy. Thinking: "What was I doing a year ago today?" The internet, and particularly TimeHop, tells me that I was starting my last week of work before having my son, at a whopping 39 weeks pregnant, a year ago today. And two years before that I was having afternoon tea with my Auntie Ju at a local garden centre. It's bizarre.

It's almost a year on, a year on from the day that my life changed. The day that made me different, bolder, braver, wiser, stronger. Becoming a mother has taught me so many things. So many different, wonderful things.

I know now that, life is actually quite simple, if you take the time to giggle at a dog, or inspect a carpet - often with your tongue. I know now that, poo, while disgusting, will not kill me, should it happen to grace my finger. I know that I haven't seen beauty, until I've seen my baby smile. I know that knowing all of the lyrics to Jake the Peg will come in handy as I grow older. I know that, eventually, the bats at Chester Zoo won't be scary anymore. I know what the true feeling of pride feels like. I know that I don't really miss my old life. I have little tastes of it now and again and I smile to myself and realise that it isn't what I want anymore.

What I've realised the most is that, being a mother isn't part of who I am, it defines me. No matter how much I fight it or say otherwise, I'm a mother. I'm a hero. I can dry tears, read minds and fight bogie monsters all at once. It doesn't hold me back. I'm more than I gave myself credit for and I spent almost a year trying to work that out.

I would blame myself constantly. I'd feel guilty. I'd attack my decisions. I felt like my life was sold for my son's. It wasn't something I regretted, I was just so focused on making it up to him. I didn't see myself as a real member of society. I didn't realise that you can actually have your cake, eat it too and share it with your baby. Hell, you can even wash up afterwards.

I am very fortunate. I am very lucky. I'm also tired. And cranky sometimes. But it's so worth it.

Mothers aren't people you push around. Mothers aren't weak. Mothers are brilliant. They are fierce. They are strong. I can pin-point one a mile off, just by the glint in her eye.

I am William's mum. I change nappies. But I will change the world too. In my own way. With a smile, an anecdote or two, and a glass of wine to hand.

Dear William - Week 48

Hello poppet,

Firstly - apologies for the goofy photo! You were chatting away and it made me laugh!

Another week down. You turned 11 months old on 12^th May, and I realised, very quickly, how fast you have grown up. I say it every week – and maybe these letters have become repetitive in a way – but it’s almost a year and even writing this makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. We have almost come full circle now.

I remember the day you turned one day old, and the day you turned one week old, and I would hold you and wait for the clock to turn 12:22pm and I would smile and my eyes would fill with happy tears. Soon I’ll be able to look back a whole year and this time, I’ll be looking at a cheeky, smiley little boy who is looking up at me as a he stands, chewing, most likely, on a stuffed crocodile.

How did this happen?

I’m sure you would rather know about how you were doing at eleven months, or 48 weeks old, instead of reading your old mum’s soppy thoughts. So I’ll tell you.

You are fully capable of standing on your own, as well as walking, but you are a smart cookie and you don’t fancy taking a step back (excuse the pun) in terms of speed, as you are well aware that walking will take you longer to get from A to B. So you go for it and then you see the thought process flit across your face and you frown and seem to shrug and go “nah” and you get on your knees and crawl instead. And boy can you crawl – I’ve never seen a baby move so fast. And you like to be chased too – you look over your shoulder and cackle and crawl away as fast as you can. You can hear your excited breathing as we watch your bottom scoot off into the kitchen. It’s adorable.

You are also very chatty and I can tell you are trying to form words all the time. You are saying: mama, dada, gruyere (which is Granny we think), yes, yum, hiya and dog. You also bark. I can’t believe that I have just written that but yes, if Max barks, or Milo and Juno, we get a: “wurf” from you.

You have proper hair now – you are still so fair, which makes me smile as sometimes you don’t look like our son at all in your complexion. But your Daddy and I were blondies too for a time, believe it or not. I love your hair, I love stroking down your fluffy bed head and it makes you look much more boy-like.

You have also developed a little stranger anxiety recently, and a full knowledge of what it feels like to be left. There are times, at the moment, when only I will do. Which is both lovely and hard, because I cherish your affection, but it can be difficult to get anything done, and difficult for your dad too, when you squirm away from him. Hopefully it will end soon – as this isn’t like you!

I’m honestly looking forward to being the mother of a toddler and a little boy – I can’t wait to have conversations with you. And laugh together. But for now, I’m quite content to be needed by little baby.

I love you.

Mama xxx