My first major Mummy wobble.

Last night I had my first real feeling of  'I am not very good at this' and I didn't like it one bit.


Mads was fine during the day and then around 6pm she started getting a little grouchy.  I went off for a bath and Mr E was downstairs with her, he was cooking dinner while she was sitting in her bouncy chair.  I could hear her getting more and more grumpy so I went downstairs to look after her.


She suddenly started screaming and screaming and there was nothing we could do to stop her.  It was a cry unlike I have ever heard before.  It was a high pitch shriek, followed by a brief pause, followed by more shrieks.  I could tell she was in pain but I didn't know where or why.


I tried rocking her and this didn't work.  I tried cuddling her, stroking her, singing to her, putting her on the floor and rubbing her tummy, I took her nappy off and moved her legs, I tried feeding her, both from a bottle and then from me.  Nothing.  She just was screaming more and more and nothing I could do would stop her.


This carried on for about half an hour, but it felt like an eternity.  She was getting more and more worked up and her little face was streaming with tears.  She was looking at me, her eyes looked so unhappy and I felt dreadful that there was nothing I could do.  Eventually she stopped for all of ten minutes before starting again, this time more ferociously than the first.  In desperation I rang the emergency doctors but was left on hold for ten minutes- by this time she had stopped again.  We managed to feed her and get her to sleep in the end because I think she was so exhausted.


After she went to bed I just got so upset and Mr E didn't understand why.


What kind of Mum can't stop her daughter from crying?  Was it something I had done?  Had she got tummy ache from something I had eaten?


I then got panicked that she was going to be poorly in the night and I wouldn't know.  What if she got a temperature and a rash and I wasn't aware because I was asleep?


I have had situations with her where I have been worried before but it was the first time that I felt like there was nothing that I could do and it was horrible that I couldn't help her.  I felt like I couldn't comfort my own baby.


There are going to be a lot more occasions where I am going to question my parenting skills and I do know this.


The realisation dawned on me that myself and Mr E are going to mould our daughter into the child/teenager/adult she is going to become.  Her destiny in a way is in our hands.  We need to provide for her, give her a good home, a happy home life, and the emotional and physical support she will need in order to thrive.


We will need to pick her up and give her a hug when she falls off her bike, let her snuggle in our bed when she has had a bad dream, kiss away her tears when she has had a fight with her friends at school, try and make her smile when she has her heart broken by her first boyfriend.  We will have to discipline her if she doesn't do well at school, or have stern words if she upsets someone, I will go shopping with her to buy her first prom dress and have tears of joy running down my face when she walks up the aisle.


When I look into her tiny little eyes I don't look to the future, I just look to the here and now and how remarkable and amazing she is. It's only when I stop to think about it, I realise what exciting, tough and downright scary times I have ahead of me.


No one said being a parent is easy, but at the same time it's the most incredibly rewarding job in the world.


And although I will have my wobbles, all I know is that I am going to love my daughter unconditionally for the rest of my life.

Just call me Nigella...

Since having Mads I could easily get used to being a housewife or stay at home mum.  I would like nothing more than spending time with my daughter and running our home as I see fit.  Unfortunately unless we win the lottery or I think of a spectacular business idea before the end of September it is pretty much certain that I will be sitting at my desk come October, albeit hopefully part time.

However I was saying to Mr E the other night that it was a shame because I thrive as a housewife extraordinaire.  

I like to think of myself as a pretty good wife and now a pretty good mother.  

I look after all the finances in our house, making sure that the council tax is paid and Mr Gas Man doesn't leave us with no hot water.

I only shrink the occasional thing in the tumble dryer.

I keep our home exceptionally clean. (In fact I have an obsessive relationship with my hoover and love it almost as much as my husband)  Even with a new baby on a mission to be sick on every single surface there is and who comes with more kit than you could have thought possible.  You would be hard pressed to find even the smallest spec of dust on any of my windowsills or surfaces and you could eat your dinner off my toilet seats.

I have just mentioned the problem right there.

For all the cleaning, budgeting and washing there is a huge black cloud hanging over me and therefore stopping me from winning the award for the most amazing housewife/mother/wifey ever.

That's right. Dinner.  Or lunch, breakfast or any snack in between.  I am the world's most terrible cook.  I don't like to admit it and I pretend to my friends that I am in fact Nigella in disguise.  This is a big fat lie. Mr E does all the cooking in our house and always has done.  

Well I shouldn't say all.  I can rustle up a pretty mean pizza or a rather fantastic chicken and chips.

I have managed to cook three special meals for him in the six years we have been together.

1. I cooked him a rather lovely spaghetti bolognese.  Unfortunately I left the paper sheet on the bottom of the mince.  Not very tasty.

2. When Mads was a few weeks old I got some Marks and Spencer cookie dough and muffin mix.  How hard can it be to fail at a pre-made mix where you just add a bit of water and butter?  For me very hard.  I burned the cookies and Mr E very nearly broke a tooth.

3.  Lastly my latest culinary delight.  Shepard's Pie potatoes.  Essentially jacket potatoes mashed up with mince and cheese.  You can see below how that turned out. (Yes that black dry stuff is the mince)

Guess I won't be winning any awards or giving up the day job any time soon.