First time mum/referee/ sleeve snot wiper to a wild toddler. Designated household bum changer. Blogging about this motherhood malarkey from a refreshingly honest and unfiltered perspective.


Do you ever stop staring at your kids in just dumbfounded awe that they are yours? That they are alive and perfect and magical? 

I realised how bloody blessed I've found myself to be. How grateful I am to have my overly sensitive, affectionate and bonkers little boy. 

We spend so much of time just wishing it away and then yearn for it when it's gone. 
So much has happened in my world recently. I have spent a lot of my time silently reflecting on life, and its funny little ways and I've just realised how important it is to cherish every little gift. To embrace the good, the bad and the ugly. To grow from the heartbreaks and the trials. To be grateful for what I've got. 

Watching Arthur grow from this tiny pea in my belly to this unique little character over the months, I feel like it's something I should appreciate more than, at times, I have. 
I want to focus on his smile, his roaring laugh. His own little mannerisms. His funny little chatter and his crazy Mohawk hair. 

To keep him up late some nights, spend that precious time with him instead of rushing him to bed for the sake of a meal ate in peace or a coffee not abandoned. To forget about the mess and the bills and the insignificant things. To let him draw all over the walls because those faint scribbles will be something I'll smile at when he's grown up and left home.  

I haven't minded that his favourite sleeping position is to snuggle under my arm and leave me clinging onto the edge of the bed. I'll accept the stinging eyes at 8am when he wakes me full of chatter and dancing. I'm okay with the 45 outfit changes and massive pile of washing because he would rather play with his food than eat it.  
I'll take that I trickle a little piss every time l sneeze. I'll take the stretch marks and saggy tum. I'll take that I'll never look more than a solid 3 because I'm too tired to make the effort. I'm happy to watch that God damn Mr. Tumble for 9 hours on end if it means I get to see his face light up and his laugh fill my heart.  

I've been hugging him a lot tighter these past few weeks. Embracing the tough days. Accepting that my best is sometimes all I can do. I've been feeling somewhat emotional. Giving myself a kick for not focusing on what is right in front of me. Feeling appreciative, grateful and humbled beyond words. 

I have been smothering him in kisses, despite his protests. Soaking up those little moments of cuddles and baby chatter and locking these memories in my heart. 
Doing a little less of the self-critique and a little more patting myself on the back for raising such a remarkable little lad. 

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