Bubby Is ONE!

I’d thought a lot about Hux’s first birthday; the end of the baby years, the beginning of his boyhood. The plan was to hold a small tea party with sandwiches, scones, cake and party rings, sing happy birthday in time for Hux and Elfie to have their tea and go to bed worn out after a happy day of cake and present-opening.

What I didn’t anticipate happening on 16th May was a (swift) drive to Oxford’s John Radcliffe hospital following my mum’s not so graceful descent from the top of a ladder.

It was that awful situation you imagine might happen but hope never does. My phone was on silent and I’d missed calls from my Dad, who’d managed to get hold of Will. Will appeared at the front door: “there’s been an accident”. GULP. He said that my mum was fine but she’d gone off to hospital an hour and a half away in a helicopter. Which really, when you think about it, probably means she isn’t fine. An air ambulance! My mum hates flying.

Mum was very lucky: she had a punctured lung and 4 fractured ribs (ouch). Despite being adamant that she wasn’t going to stay overnight in hospital (love the confidence intravenous morphine gives you…) she was kept in til Saturday and is now taking it easy at home.

I told her – you’ll do anything to get out of babysitting, won’t you mum?! ;)

I got home in time to eat the last of the cocktail sausages and a couple of Blinis that Elfie had picked the smoked salmon off. And so my boy was One!

Ah well, we’ll try again next year. He won’t remember this birthday of course, which is good as practicality won over fun and his main gifts consisted of a bath toy, a book and lots of well-needed clothes. Sorry, Bubby.

At the grand old age of a year Hux is still very awesome. He is the most content little man you will ever meet (strangers: “erm, why is your baby so happy?”) and his most favourite thing to do in the world is to put things, anything, in his mouth. His favourite thing to chomp down on is an iPhone wire or laptop cable. Or soil. Not massively high in the nutritional value stakes. He also loves to wave, point and pretend to feed people food.

He doesn’t crawl properly yet but does this cute wiggly wormy commando crawl thing on his elbows. He can happily sit up and has just started bearing weight on his legs if you support him. He can say some choice words: Mama, Dada, Papa, Row Row, Gaga, No, Yeah. He has the softest, sweetest-smelling head of hair that has the slightest hint of strawberry blonde about it.

Hux had a very rough time in the last three months with three consecutive chest infections and a couple of doses of conjunctivitis. You know what’s not fun? Putting cream in a baby’s eyes. They don’t like it. At all.

A hospital X ray confirmed that he did indeed have infections in both lungs but it didn’t look like there was anything more sinister going on which was a huge relief after there were whispers of Cystic Fibrosis from the doctor. We’re going back in a couple of weeks for a follow up but touch wood he has been happy and well ever since.

Elfie loves her brother A LOT, probably a little bit more than he loves her at the moment though this is totally down to how hard she squeezes him when they cuddle. And how much she likes to ‘share’ his toys, when ‘share’ means ‘take it off him because I want anything he’s playing with’. The relationship these two share is so special… at least until the crying starts, anyway.

It’s crazy to look back on this time last year and think about what a different place we are all in now. So much has happened, most of it unexpected. Some sad, some happy, some exciting, some life-changing. Who knows what the next year of this little boy’s life will bring?

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Separation: The Aftermath

So I have been tapping my fingers on my laptop for three days now, wondering how on earth to follow up the last post I did. This is the fifth time I’ve started writing something, all previous words have been deleted in frustration.

Firstly, a big thank you to everyone who commented, tweeted, emailed, text… I have felt really loved. The stories and kind words I’ve been sent have really helped and left me feel a lot more positive about the future. And positive is one thing I really am feeling at the moment: I’ve gone from being terrified of being on my own 6 months ago to living alone and thriving. I’ve learned so much about myself, what I’m capable of and what I want out of life.

The hardest thing in this whole process is the affect the split is having on the kids. Specifically on Elfie, Hux is too young to understand what’s going on. When Will first went to stay elsewhere I had a couple of heartbreaking weeks of her asking where her Daddy was, and saying that she was so sad that Daddy wasn’t at home. It was awful and I know Will found these early phone calls with her just as hard as I did. Her behaviour declined and she became clingy and anxious. She seems to have emerged out of the other side of this bad patch though and is as confident and happy as ever.

The split has had a positive experience on them in other ways, however. Both Will and I are spending a lot more quality time with them, going to toddler groups, crafting, cooking, visiting playgrounds. They now seem to feel very happy and I hope they continue to.

I’ve been surprised at the affect this has had on our friends. I expect from the outside our relationship has always looked pretty solid: probably because we’ve always been such good friends and have had no big public fallings out. I think a lot of people have been shocked at our news, as not only were we the first in our friendship group to get married but we’re also one of the first to split.

The questions I feel we need to ask each other are endless… do I change my name back? Do we get a quickie divorce or wait until we’ve lived apart for two years? Is Will going to get a permanent base up here or just have a place in London? Should I move back to London? What is a fair custody share if I’m working from home? What do we do at Christmas? How soon can I afford to do this on my own? ARGH! If anyone can enlighten me to the above, please do.

Single motherhood, let’s be having you.

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When Marriage Doesn’t Work Out

Last week I went to New York.

While I was there I planned on drinking as many cocktails and eating as many cheeseburgers as physically possible – which I did – but there was also another reason for my trip. Something I haven’t spoken about here yet, not because I haven’t wanted to, but because it has been a very difficult and turbulent time.

Will and I decided to separated a few weeks ago. For a week or so he split his time between staying with family locally and London. My trip to New York was my time to gain some perspective, headspace and independence before coming home to work out what was going on. I half expected to jet out there a quivering and crying mess, spend my New York time questioning why I wasn’t at home and return back the same emotionally frail weeper.

But what actually happened is that I re-found my spark over there, the essence of who I am. I felt like I was 10 years younger, confident, happy. I gained the perspective I needed to evaluate where I was in my life and where I was going; my relationship, family and work. The distance helped me to see so clearly where we’d been going wrong and what we needed to do to put it right.

Will and I have now split up. Without going into the details, we are both very different people to the ones we were when we embarked on our relationship 10 years ago. We love each other dearly and are going to do our utmost to live separate lives in the best way possible for our two lovely children, but to be truly happy we need to be apart. We’re separating for no other reason than sometimes these things just don’t work out, not for want of trying or lack of hoping.

We are both sad but know this is the right thing to do and in time we’ll be a better family for this decision. As much as I have been grieving for our life that will never be, I can truly say that I have not felt this positive about the future in a long time, like a big weight has been lifted. Although this process will not be easy it is most definitely for the best.

So that’s me, that’s the reason for New York. I had a wonderful holiday and lost 5lbs. Who said splitting up was without advantage?!

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Day Two

What a difference a day has made.

I don’t know if it’s this city, the people I’ve met or the freedom I’ve felt but already I am rejuvinated. For the first time in a long while I feel capable and excited at what might be round the corner. Despite the late nights and jetlag-driven early mornings I’m energized and simply, unashamedly happy.

Yesterday was perfect; a walk over the Williamsburg bridge (this place is so hip it hurts, by the way), brunch at Pastis, a stroll along the High Line Park and lunch at The Standard. A visit to my old work’s New York office, chewing the fat with some bar-hopping Italians and a perfect drink in a lovely bar with a breathtaking view over Columbus circle. A cab back over the Hudson to meet old London friends in a hotel’s rooftop bar followed by drinks and a stumble home. I felt 18 again and it rocked.

(Hangover face)

I was so worried before I arrived here that I would go slightly nuts without the kids, but the process has been a lot less painful than I expected. Maybe that comes with the new found contentment, but I have no anxiety or worries about how on earth they are coping without their Mama. I know they’ll be just fine.

Bring on NYC evening number three: burgers and comedy. I love this town.

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N-Y-C!

I’m here, I’m in New York! And have been up since 4.30am thanks to jetlag and the champagne hangover from my flight yesterday.

It was the best flight of my life. Scratch that, it was one of the best DAYS of my life. Because I know how to pick my friends well, Kirsty went above and beyond the call of duty friendship-wise and upgraded my ticket to first class using her airmiles. I don’t think I can ever go back to Economy now, she’s ruined me for life.

I spent the flight propping up the bar with some Hedge Fund Managers from the Upper West Side (I still have no idea what a Hedge Fund is), drinking Champagne and enjoying stretching my legs in the comfort of my absolutely massive seat. The food was fantastic, the air hostesses were lovely: I could have spent all day on that plane. And the Virgin Atlantic Clubhouse at Heathrow? Don’t even get me started on it. DIVINE. Jerry Hall sat down next to me and gave me dirty looks because I was staring at her. Sorry, Jerry, but I was comparing you to my Google Images results so I could be sure it was you.

nyc3

I arrived into the city at 9pm and we gallivanted off for the BEST fried chicken of my life. Chicken skin, breaded and deep-fried? With honey butter? OMG. Not convinced with the accompanying scone though (they call em biscuits here). That was followed by an apple gallette and some vino at Brooklyn Winery (they make their own artisanal wines. Fancy) and a stagger home to Kirsty’s gorgeous Williamsburg pad.

One of the things I love about America is that it’s acceptable to eat fries at breakfast time. Which is precisely what I plan to do in approximately one hour. I love this country.

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Re-claiming Me Time

If you ask any new mum the one thing they miss about their life pre-parenthood, they’ll probably say the same thing. Alone time. Me time. Silence.

That’s definitely true for me and I tell you, three years of not being able to take a dump without someone peering down the toilet asking you if your bottom is smelly, or shower without being accompanied by your knee-high shadow can really take its toll. Once you’re a mum you never truly feel alone again, and as one who has always been very comfortable in my own company I found this one of the hardest things to deal with.

Sometimes, and this sounds really silly, but I get so overwhelmed with the pressure of making sure my two little mouths get fed three times a day. That’s a strange thing to focus in on, but as an adult you can just inhale a banana or some cake for lunch if you’re busy/stressed/not hungry. You can call your husband for fish and chips, or eat pasta and butter (don’t knock it til you’ve tried it). These two little ones, however, need nutritionally balanced low-fat healthy meals cooked for them and sometimes it takes all I’ve got to think about what I’m going to cook them and then make it. Contrary to popular belief you can’t really feed them fish fingers every day and some days I find myself spending hours and hours slaving over meals for them.

Then there’s the daily pressure of making sure we’re doing fun, educational and stimulating activities, limiting the amount of CBeebies we watch (I find it easily becomes a crutch if I’m not sleeping well) and ensuring we make it to bedtime in a timely fashion and all in one piece. EXHAUSTING. It’s the most full-on flat-out job I’ve ever had. I obviously wouldn’t change it for the world but I do sometimes wish there was an HR department I could hand a holiday form to.

And that is why I have decided to take a bit of time off. On a whim last Friday night (and yeah, on two glasses of wine if I’m honest) I booked a ticket to New York City, leaving this Wednesday, as in 48 hours time. It’s time to cash in my ‘me time’.

My best friend Kirsty has lived out there almost as long as we’ve lived in the countryside and despite me vowing to visit for all that time I’ve always been a bit preoccupied with being pregnant or breastfeeding. Now I’m neither of those things I’ve decided there’s no time like the present. The last six months have not been particularly easy for me or my family so I think it’s important to get away and re-discover who I am once again. I hope I will come back a little more relaxed, a little happier and with a little less of a burden on my shoulders.

I can’t wait to spend some quality one-on-one time with Kirsty that doesn’t involve a Skype connection, strolling the streets of New York whilst she’s at work. More crucially I can’t wait to remember who I am again. I’m already anticipating the heartache of missing my children for five days but they will be getting in return a much happier mummy. I can’t wait.