What’s in a name???

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When I first moved into my house with my daughter I thought it felt empty. With this in mind we decided to get a pet. I’d always been a cat person, and didn’t really like dogs so the decision was easy.

Diva was at preschool the day I brought home the little black ball of fur. Being the runt of the litter he was tiny with big blue eyes and slightly clumsy on his feet. He reminded me a little of Diva to be honest.

I hadn’t named him, as thought it would be nice if Diva did. But I had a list of suggested names that she could pick from. I liked the names shadow or hunter due to his black fur. Whereas sailor liked killer, Panther and night stalker (yeah very boyish names).

Leaving the house, ball of fur was left in peace for a few minutes. Little did he know that his life will be turned into endless chasing, grabbing and kissing by little Diva the moment she met him.

Within minutes of her bounding through the front door she noticed the ball of fur fast asleep on his cushion on the chair. Running over she grabbed him and insisted on giving him a big kiss. Taking the now shaking kitten off Diva I placed him on my knee. Diva was sitting so close to me she was basically sat on my knee too.

I then say, “Diva would you like to name the kitten”

Diva: “yes mummy”

Me: ” what should we call him? Maybe hunter or shadow sounds good. Don’t you think so??”

Diva: “no mummy. We should call him Tom”

Me: “why Tom??”

Diva: “after talking Tom the phone app”

Me: “but what about Shadow”

Diva: “no his name is Tom”

And that was the end of the conversation. Our new kitten was named Tom after a phone app cat. If you have heard of talking Tom you will know that the cat is black in colour and repeats whatever you say. You can also tap on the cat and he will pretend to be hit which Diva found highly hilarious.

Really I should be thankful that she didn’t name him something completely ridiculous like fluffy or sooty. I could only imagine shouting a stupid name from the back door, in the attempt to get the cat in for his dinner.

Tom is now 3 years old and been nicknamed the bird killer on the street. The sweet and innocent tiny cat that I mentioned is no longer in our house. He’s a full on predator, he’s that bad that he wears a skull and crossbones collar with a bell to warn poor birds he’s nearby. In fact it’s not just birds it’s anything he’s happy to eat really. He’s brought home baby rats, 2 birds and a dead bat so maybe we did name him wrong and my sailor was right. He should have been called Killer lol.

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Daddy’s Girl

It’s amazing what a little girl is like around her father and the power she has over him. The power to wrap him round her little finger with a flutter of an eyelash and few kisses and cuddle.

Diva only gets to see her daddy at the weekend due to his job and long travelling times from home to base. This makes their time together extra special and her ability to get anything she wants even greater.

Now that Diva goes to school she isn’t home when daddy walks through the door. Giving me some time to talk to my sailor in peace. This however doesn’t last long as we have to do the school run.

The moment Diva sees daddy from the classroom window her little face lights up. Daddy is home for the weekend. Seeing her little eyes sparkle she can’t wait to run out the class. Walking hand in hand out the school Diva puts the charm on.

Diva: “daddy I’m tired”

Daddy: “are you Diva”

Diva: “will you carry me, my legs are tired”

Bare this in mind Diva has walked to the car without complaint of tiredness all week. Daddy however doesn’t know this and picks his little girl up and happily carries her to the car. Thats one point to Diva and daddy zero.

We all go and collect W from the grandparents. Diva skips happily into the house followed by her daddy. Diva announces daddy is home in a bright and cheerful manner.  W is happily kicking away on the floor completely oblivious that daddy is home and what that means.

Getting home is done in record time, as daddy carries W in his car seat while Diva follows behind. Teatime is swiftly done, no debates or arguments on what to have. Diva smiles at daddy’s suggestions for her meal and sits happily at the table and eats while watching tv. Followed by bathtime and bedtime.

At bedtime Diva normally has 2 books read to her. That is until daddy is home, then Diva flutters her lashes and smiles her sweeties smile.

Diva: “daddy can I have 3 books”

Daddy: “yeah ok Diva”

Again Diva has managed to get exactly what she wanted. Diva goes to bed without any arguments and brushes her teeth and chooses 3 books for daddy to read. 40 minutes later daddy walks in the living room.

Me: how many books did you read to her???

Daddy: “about 5, she had supertato, superworm, james and the giant peach (2 chapters) and then ending with a super long abridged version of a princess story”

Diva has managed to do it again. Diva 2 points, daddy zero.

Then morning arrives and Diva is up with the birds. She comes creeping into our room like every weekend morning and walks around the bed to her daddy.

Diva: “daddy, will you get up and watch Tv with me”

daddy: “give me a minute Diva to wake up”

with this reply Diva climbs on top of Daddy and cuddles him until her wakes up and gives in to Diva. Yes you guessed it Diva strikes again. Diva 3 points, Daddy zero.

This continues through the weekend and by the time Sunday arrives Diva has scored a massive 28 points and Daddy is still on zero.

 

 

 

Poem – loving a sailor

I wrote this poem a couple of years ago while my sailor was on deployment. It summed up how I was feeling at the time and how lonely and vulnerable I felt.

Hope you enjoy reading it

Loving a sailor is a high price to pay,
Seeing your head bow as you walk away, making a journey of hours long,
While I’m back at home playing out favourite song.

Counting down the months and days until you return,
Trying to cope with the loneliness that can never be learned,
Then one day my inbox pings,
Or I hear my phone suddenly ring.

It’s your voice I hear, calling from a far away land.
You are calling from the ship but looking at the golden sand.
You say that you love and miss me and we will be back together soon,
My heart skips a beat and I’m over the moon.

The emptiness that was felt has temporarily gone,
Replaced by the love your sailor has just passed on.

The nights are long when your not here,
But the hope inside, knowing you will reappear,
Cuddling your pillow, and kissing you goodnight,
Looking at our photo and squeezing my eyes tight,
Dreaming of the day my sailor returns, my tears express what my heart yearns.

Loving a sailor, maybe a high price to pay,
Knowing that your loved and thought of everyday,
He knows I am home and waiting for him,
Sending boxes of love that they open with a grin.

I maybe alone, but he is to,
Looking at the ocean all calm and blue,
He’s also counting the days until one becomes two,
As his mind works away, he always dream of you.

Then the day is suddenly here,
My sailor is coming home and I wait for the ship to appear,
I stand on the jetti knowing your time is done,
Until the next time, your love has won.

 

Coffee vs 3 month old baby

Right now I bet your sat looking at this post thinking WOW she isn’t blogging about her daughter Diva. I’m going a little off topic for once he he.

Believe it or not I have 2 children. The second is a gorgeous 3 month old baby boy W. Like most typical Brits I’m an avid tea drinker, non of this earl grey nonsense though. I like a proper cupper that doesn’t smell or taste of perfume.

But since I’ve had my little boy I’ve started drinking instant coffee. Its to stop the new born sleep deprived mum feeling. If you are a mum you know the feeling. I wake up and look in the mirror to see them dark circles under my eyes, my hair is a mess. And I walk around like an extra out of walking dead, hanging my head and trying to encourage my heavy limbs back to life after yet another stupid o clock night feed.

After carrying baby W downstairs the morning routine starts. Cup of coffee number one doesn’t even touch the sides. I down the hot liquid and wait for the flow of caffeine to hit my blood stream. Once it does supermum is in the building. Juggling making breakfast for Diva, feeding W his firs bottle. And Feeding the cats and fish I’m on a roll.

Then at 9am the caffeine buzz has gone and I’m running on empty. I think OMG I’ve still so much to do, cup of coffee number 2 down you go. And I’m off about like a bat out of hell. Collecting W from my parents we go home to the mountain of washing up, laundry and toys covering the living room floor. Then W cries again for yet another feed.

While I wait for the prep machine to make the bottle I boil the kettle, be rude not to have a drink myself. So coffee number 3 here we come. After being covered in sick and having to change myself and W for the second time.

The afternoon shift begins, and to get it going on a good footing coffees 4 and 5 go back to back. Oops I’m now on a hyper and feel invincible. After running round like a headless chicken while W plays on his playmate on the floor the afternoon passes in a blur.

Oh my look at the time it’s 2pm and Diva finishes at 3. Scooping W up I put him in his car seat and run to the car. Dropping him off at my parents, and drinking yet another coffee and cup of tea for good measure. Its school run time.

After returning home with Diva and W it’s time for dinner. This takes about an hour to debate over with Diva as everything I mention she doesn’t want. Mmmmmmm make up your mind child is what I start to think. Coffee number 8 has just vanished and now I’m sat with Diva asking her about her school day over the finally decided evening meal.

Bath time and bedtime is on the cards next and I switch to decaffeinated tea not like it will make much difference. It 8pm and the house is quiet Diva and W are finally in bed and then I sit and reflect on the day.

And then it hits me, have I eaten today ?????

Potty training – to pee or not to pee

Potty training is a subject most parents dread. I told myself constantly this will get better, diva will get the hang of this.

I started potty training Diva when she was two and while my sailor was deployed. Like I said in the last post heaven knows why I started then. But I did, maybe it was to distract me from the thought of doing it alone for a few months. Or it could have been because Diva had started preschool full time. Anyway I don’t know if two year old is late or early to train, as I took cues from her and she was my first child.

The first thing I noticed was I could never go for a pee in peace she would follow me to the toilet and then stand and watched as I did what I needed to. Listening to the sounds of doing my business, embarrassing I know. But that’s how I knew she was ready. Well that and she stopped putting pants on her head.

There was a lot of red face moments when training Diva. Especially when we went out, Diva would insist on coming to the bathroom with me and then announce to the full bathroom what I was doing.

She would often shout “Mummy, are you having a pooh???”

I would then emerge from the cubicle very red faced and asking Diva to be quiet, as I quickly washed my hands and walked out the bathroom hold Diva by the hand.

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Diva mastered the art of pee’ing on the toilet very early on with the aid on a foot step and a basin buddy. Getting Diva to take a pooh pooh on the toilet was a different story. No matter how much I tried she would only pooh pooh on the potty. One day I asked Diva why she didn’t want to pooh pooh on the toilet and she replied “mummy, wee wee goes in the toilet not pooh pooh, as you put pooh in a nappy and throw it away”
It took a lot of explaining to Diva that I don’t use nappies to get rid of her pooh. I put it down the toilet with her wee wee.

Then came the introduction of knickers or Nick nicks as they are known to Diva. Diva liked wearing knickers at first, in fact she liked it so much when she went to the bathroom she would remove them completely and not tell anyone.

She would then come down stairs and practice doing rollie pollies showing her bottom to the world. When I asked her where her knickers were she would say “on the floor mummy”

She couldn’t understand she had to pull them back up after she had been to the toilet. This went on for months and months, mornings happy wearing knickers and then afternoons were knicker less.

Then there were the accidents. Diva would come banging downstairs on her bottom shouting

“Mummy there is a puddle on the floor in the toilet”

“Diva why is there a puddle on the floor??”

“Mummy I missed the toilet”

After cleaning the floor, Diva would yet again need the toilet. I would place my head in my hands and hope that she would get to the toilet in time.

And then one day it would click and potty training becomes another skill mastered and another tick in that ever growing list of things to do x

Diva and Deployment

Yep you guessed it. I’m a proud military girlfriend and engaged to a very handsome sailor. Living in a service household isn’t easy at the best of times but living through a deployment with a questioning 2 year old is even harder.

 

Explaining to Diva that daddy was going away was the hardest.
She would say “mummy what does daddy do?”

“Daddy works on a ship Diva”

“A pirate ship mummy”

“Yeah Diva, daddy works on a pirate ship”

Since that day I’ve asked myself repeatedly why did I agree with her. With that wheel in motion Diva now tells everyone she meets that her Daddy is a pirate.

As you can imagine this was very funny at first. Until the moment you go somewhere and Diva opens her mouth and says my daddy is a pirate. The looks people gave me when she said it. Or they would shrug it off and think my child was talking nonsense.

Then the weeks passed and Diva was becoming impatient. She would ask “when is daddy coming home”

“Soon” was always my response

Phone calls were very few and far between and Diva wasn’t very good at keeping people on the phone. In fact she is terrible, as she has a tendency to hang up.

When the phone did ring I would drop what I was doing and run to the phone in the hope it was my sailor calling for them very few precious minutes. But if Diva got there first you knew about it. The phone would ring and she would answer, there was a lot of hellooooooo. And then Diva would come running with the phone and shouting it’s daddy.

Grabbing the phone eagerly I put it to my ear thinking he was on the other side. To find Diva had hung up on him.

Diva would then smile and say “daddy has gone now”

Luckily sometimes he would call back, but more often than not he couldn’t and then I have to wait for my phone to ding instead saying I’ve got an email.

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I learnt after the first couple of weeks not to leave my phone unattended just in case. It became attached to me, I even slept with the thing. Diva would often crawl into bed with me in the morning and cuddle into me. Then my phone would vibrate under her pillow, sending her jumping and screaming thinking her pillow was alive.

While the sailor was away I set myself three tasks. The first was to toilet train Diva, as she had just started preschool and didn’t want her being in nappies forever. This was no easy task and why I decided to do it in a deployment heaven only knows.

My second task was to get fit, weighing in at 9stone 7pounds. I wanted to lose the 7 pounds but without going to the gym so I became a wii fit geek. I would shake my booty to shakira and Zumba it up. I always made sure the blinds were closed first though.

The third was to entertain Diva with crafts, games for the 4 whole months. Luckily it was the end of the year so there was Halloween, and Christmas on the horizon. Diva loved to get messy so we carved pumpkins, made gingerbread and painted lots of pictures.

The final weeks were the best, the excitement and buzz in the house. Preparing for homecoming, making banners and Divas happy face knowing she would be showered with presents.

Then the day arrives that daddy is home. Diva is so happy that she wears her little sailor dress and helps nanna put the banner in the window to the family home.
Daddy the pirate is home she shouted. And then opened his bag to see what he had bought. Typical Diva.

 

Diva is on the move

This is the day most parents can’t wait for. Seeing that tiny baby develop and go from lifting their head, to rolling over and then sitting up unaided. Then the day arrives Diva no longer rocks on the spot, she is on the move.

Batten down the hatches comes to mind when talking about crawling. At the time Diva and I were learning from each other, I didn’t think she would move so quick and have her fingers in places she shouldn’t.

My little Diva loved to explore, her fingers would press every button on the DVD player seeing what would pop out. Fingers would slide across the Tv screen leaving smeared marks on my normally clean surface.

If any of you have watched Star Trek this quote sums up a child on the move “Resistance is futile”. No amount of distraction, toys or shiny, noisy objects can stop that child from moving.

Then there is find the baby. I had a baby gate on the living room door stopping Diva going upstairs or into the kitchen. I would leave the room minutes and return to find Diva gone. I would stand there and scratch my head wondering where she could be. I’m sure she was on the blanket playing when I left. Then I would see a pen roll across the floor, as my eyes follow the direction where the pen has come from. I see little feet poking out the end of the sofa and there is Diva with the contents of my work bag on the floor.

The notepad that I normally use is now lining the floor like the sawdust at the bottom of a hamster cage. The rubber gloves stored in my bag have been sucked and tiny teeth marks are visible on the fingers. I then look at Diva’s face which is now painted red, not only has she found my lip gloss she also found my red pen.

Moving Diva out the way, and taking out the wet wipes that I store in every room of the house. I attempt to clean my little Diva up starting with her now red glittery face.

Placing Diva back on the floor I go to pick up my once work bag contents. Collecting chewed and dribbled on pens, picking up crumpled up papers and then in the corner of my eye I’ve seen Diva crawl quickly away holding something in her little dainty hand.

Quickly standing I find Diva on the other side of the room with the black sharpie in her hand and about the start scribbling on my nice cream walls.

I finally admit defeat, scooping up Diva there is only one answer. I place her in the door swing.

Hope you have enjoyed reading about Diva crawling, until next the blog.

Much love
Dishevelled mummy x

 

Diva weaning

 

When the health visitor first talks about weaning you think …….. YAY. My baby is going to start a whole new adventure and mealtimes will become a whole lot easier.

In fact this is when parents should display a big red sign above their house with the word WARNING. The bigger the sign the better as weaning isn’t easy at all.

There are 3 stages of weaning in my experience with the little diva.
– Stage 1: pulling funny faces
– Stage 2: action stations
– Stage 3: mmmmm what’s that smell

Stage 1. My little diva wasn’t quite sure with the concept of weaning at first. The spoon may have got into her mouth quite often but it didn’t stay there and neither did the food. The faces she would pull often showed if she liked what she was eating or not. When she liked it she would smile and grab for the bowl that was on the tray in front of her. This was all well and good until I tried something new then the face would change. She would look like she was sucking a lemon, her cheeks would suck in and her face would turn green and then I needed to duck. Food would be spatted at me from a short distance. Not even a face shield could protect me from the puréed food coming my way from my little diva.

Stage 2. This was my favourite stage out of all three and this was the experimental stage. I use to make all my own baby food for little diva from spaghetti and tomato sauce to cottage pie. The little diva loved fruit and vegetable so that was never a challenge but introducing meat was whole new experience. I attempted chicken first. Who doesn’t like chicken????

The first time diva ate chicken it was puréed. The lemon face came out followed by a lot of sticking out of the tongue and then wham her hand came down on the bowl. Diva and I were covered in chicken purée as were the walls, floor and our poor old dog.

From that moment mealtimes became a military operation. I would wear a pinny and the poor dog would be put outside after he was covered in chocolate pudding. I got bowls with covers to prevent more mess. I feed her the meals until I was sure she liked it and then gave her the tool of destruction……the spoon. After one event where the diva decided to throw yoghurt at the ceiling.

Stage 3: This is split up into two parts.

With trying any new food with a baby there is the end result. It’s true what they say what goes in must come out. Prepare yourself for the most vile smells known to man. Thankfully I don’t really have a good sense of smell so nappy changing never bothered me. But when you see grandparents turning green and breath rather heavy as they changed divas nappy you know there is something wrong.

Then there is the mysterious smells around the house game. When you wake up one morning and come down stairs and there is that strange whiff in the air. The hunt is on to find that strange smell, sofas are moved, the dog is sniffed and you still can’t find it. So I give up for a while to ponder what the smell could possibly be. Then I make a brew and sit down for them very few minutes of peace while diva naps upstairs. And it’s there again that god awful smell so I reach down the side of the armchair as that is where the remote has normally been hidden. And there it is, the offending article a half eaten ham sandwich that has turned mouldy.

Hope you are enjoying the diary of my little diva, until the next blog.

Much love
Dishevelled mummy x

Baby blue eyes

When I gazed into the eyes of my baby girl for the first time. I wondered how could I create someone so prefect. Her big blue eyes and tiny fingers and toes had me completely smitten from that moment and then the crying started and didn’t stop for a full 24 long hours.

Nothing could stop the constant wail of a newborn born baby. No amount of feeding, changing or cuddling could stop her crying. The midwifes came and even attempted to sooth her to let me sleep but had to bring her back after a couple of hours as she managed to wake the full post natal ward. The midwife that returned her looked like she had been rocking my baby hours, with dishevelled hair and stained clothing she deserved a break. This was start of events to come.

After 5 agonising days in the hospital and countless days and nights of high pitched wailing they discharged us home. Personally I think the midwives couldn’t take the crying and were running out of ear plugs on the unit.

The first couple of weeks passed in a blur of endless feeds, nappy changes and sleepless nights. The visitors came and coo’ed and aww’ed at the beautiful blue eyed baby never realising that she will turn into a diva.

As the months passed my baby was getting her own little personality. She knew exactly when to be cute and smile. Her big blue eyes would pull people in and complement her making her smile even more.

Then we would get home and the smiles would vanish and be replaced when one word was uttered. Every parent knows this word and its said at least a thousand times a day with a  baby, toddler or small child. You guested it, the word is No. When my little diva heard this word she would turn red in the face, she would throw things and use the high pitched wail she had perfected over the few months of her life.

Once I acted like she did, I threw myself on the floor. I screamed as she did and her response was something I wasn’t counting on. She started laughing at me. Well that plan failed, I was expecting her to see what I was doing was wrong but instead she found it entertaining and obviously funny. Her blue eyes wide as she giggled away at me rolling around on the floor acting like a toddler.

No one prepares you for parenthood. After reading book after book on how to be a good parent I realised motherhood is what you make it.