Bits and pieces

Sometimes I think about a potential post and then wonder if I'm 'allowed' to write it that way. Then I remember this is just my little blog so I can write whatever, and how ever, I like; there are no rules. So, today, instead of covering one topic I'm going for a mixed bag. I'm even throwing in some advice for free. 

Bouncing back

Regular readers will recall that 2013 began in the doldrums for the NABM clan with Mr G struck down with meningitis. I am happy to report that Mr G has made a full recovery and is back in his usual good health. As an aside, my estimation that 2013 could only get better has so far proved true.     

Great (low) expectations 

I realise it sounds more than a tad defeatist but once again I have been reminded of the enormous benefit in expecting the absolute worst. As you know I was apprehensive about Mr G starting his new job but I am thrilled to say, so far, the new arrangements have entirely exceeded my expectations. This is purely because my expectations were exceedingly low. 

As a starting point I imagined he would never, like ever to quote Taylor Swift, be home. I assumed I would be solely responsible for things on the home front at all times. This is very often true but it means if one or two nights a week he makes an appearance, well, it's like all my Christmases have come at once. Except after the Christmas we just had (see above) this is not welcome. No the nights he is home are better. It's like my annual quota of rocky road is delivered all at once. 

Coping with comfort

I'm not going to lie and pretend there haven't been tears or the occasional 'I can't bear another solo dinner/bath/bedtime' text. There have been both. (Remember THIS???) But for the most part I have been reminded that, in the same way that living costs always seem to swell with earnings, our ability to cope swells with what is required. We don't always want to and it's not always pretty but it's comforting to remember we are usually capable of whatever lies ahead. A few months ago I often wondered how on earth I would ever manage with two children on my own. Now I can't remember any different and I do it without thinking. I trip up, my patience wanes and I don't always relish every single minute of it but I also can't remember the last day that I didn't laugh. Again expecting the worst sometimes delivers the best.      

Be careful in the kitchen

It turns out people cut their hands at home a lot. I know this because in the weeks when Mr G is the go-to man for injured hands, his phone rings. All. The. Time. Wine glasses, filleting knives, blender blades - they all do considerable damage. So here is my advice for free; be really careful handling all of your kitchen implements. Aside from protecting your safety I am also, selfishly, aware that somewhere else in the world there is a home just like mine. And by the time you injure yourself and get yourself to emergency, someone's phone will ring like Mr G's. It usually rings the minute a baby is just settled or a tired adult has entered a deep slumber. And it's cruel. So why don't we avoid all that hassle and just be careful in kitchen? Excellent.  

Restaurants are lovely. (Someone else cooks and cleans!!)  

Confession time. Until last Friday night I basically hadn't stepped foot out of the house after 7pm since Miss L joined us back in early November. When we had Miss I we went out to dinner quite a bit when she was really young because we could easily pop her under the table, asleep in her car seat. That wasn't possible this time around because although Miss L may have obliged, Miss I is a little bit too big and a lot too loud to hide in a restaurant. So at home I have been. Until Friday when I broke my night-time hermit habit and ventured out. And what fun it was! We went to Chiswick which deserves every bit of hype it's garnered. The food was amazing...I especially liked the bit where I didn't have to prepare it or clean up. Magic!   

For added trivia the last time Mr G and I went out for dinner was six days before Miss L arrived. I was so full of baby at the time that I actually couldn't fit dessert in which is tragic (and unheard of) for a dessert-tragic like myself. Friday night's dessert - Mango Bombe Alaska - more than made up for it. Truly it was the best dessert I've ever sampled. 

A night off is not the same as a holiday
I'd been so excited for my night off that it had somehow escaped me that come Saturday morning I would still be the director of childcare and home affairs at NABM. Alone, for the most part, because Mr G was tending to someone's damaged hand. In future I will try to remember that going out for dinner, albeit luxurious, is not the same as checking into a child-free resort for 48 hours. 

Even terrorists are funny 
I'm aware Miss I has had a little bad press here lately. Between terrorism and her ambulance antics I concede the picture I have painted is not entirely accurate. The truth is I wish I had a video to capture her every word at the moment. No description can do her justice; she is so funny and sunny and completely mad. And at the end of the day when she is tucked up in bed I try to remember her every expression. Isn't that a lovely thing about motherhood? That even terrorists' mothers love them?   

What's going on in your world? I haven't said it for a while but I LOVE it when people comment so please say hi!