The Little Things

It’s nearly Valentine’s Day…… (Said In a Sing song voice not dissimilar to Janice in friends) I know it’s not cool to say you expect, want, demand… Cough. A Valentine’s Day treat from your other half…. I mean love is for every day of the year not just one right??? WRONG!! I pretty much don’t love my husband 365 days…. Well, I certainly don’t show it every day, who does? He’s lucky if he gets a kiss goodbye in the morning rush, and at times, when we finally get the kids to sleep it’s not all roses, I mean there’s the dishes to sort the laundry to tackle and very important episodes of Buffy to watch. It’s nice to have a commercial day one a year where I and he, can be pampered.  

I Know I’ve spoken before about waiting for the next special occasion and how droll that is, but when your husbands language of love only extends as far as ‘Darling, I remembered to pick up eggs for pancake day’…. Oh wait no he forgot…. Let’s try again…. ‘Darling I ironed my own work shirts coz I’m not a dick or a mysoginist and I’m not sure you even know where the iron is…’ having one day where he has an opportunity to say we love each other is important to us. 

Valentine’s Day is like a free for all when you’re not actually soppy people…. I mean, if my other half turned around and said ‘I love you sugar plum’ on another day but Valentine’s, I would burst out laughing, look for the hidden camera and then raise my unplucked eyebrows so high they’d hit the pancake Remittance still on the ceiling, 

Our love is in the little things we do, it’s in the meals I manage to cook, the chocolate I pick up just for him and somehow manage to avoid eating myself… It’s in the inside jokes, the evening game of table tennis, the times I sacrifice Dr who on the sky plus so there’s room for his history documentaries. When I remember that he had an important observation at work at ask straight away how it went. It’s when I dish up the best roastie to his plate first (we use food to show love a lot) it’s when I dye my hair bright red because he said he thought it would look nice. It’s when I take the kids to tesco so he can sit in his pants watching football with a pot noodle (well I’ll do that some day). It’s when I send him stupid memes in the day and text him when he’s in the next room. When I allow him to leave the door open when he’s taking a crap or when I buy him a new toothbrush every year for Christmas. When I remember to pick up birthday cards for his family members and encourage the children to run to him when he gets home. When I make his lunch along with the children’s and put it in the fridge for the next day. When I scratch his back for hours and resist squeezing any spots. when I do Xmas, or Easter or birthdays so he can have a break when off work, when I check Twitter for positive work affirmations about him.

And for him?

He shows he loves me when he doesn’t ever ask what I’ve done all day, when he reloads the dishwasher after I’ve shoved everything in, when he washes my clothes first because he knows I’m in a cycle of about three good outfits (even though there’s drawers overflowing) it’s when he makes a parp sound when ever I bend over. Or if I’m ill and he brings me tea….. Or when I’m not ill and he brings me tea…. Or when it’s 7:30 and he’s got the children breakfast, made my coffee and shouted up for the fifth time that he’s got to get his train. It’s when he puts his car in my name or wears the hideous jumper I got him over the hideous one his mum got him. In fact it’s every time he’s put me first. From leaving the last bit of milk so I don’t have to go to the shop in the day to continually bigging up my achievements to those who say I’m not good enough. It’s his supporting of my breastfeeding in public by holding my breast pads and stop a stem of milk. Listing with me Harry Potter characters in the alphabet game while I’m in labour and holding up my dead weight leg when I’ve been pushing for 3 hours. It’s when he keeps track of my anti anxiety medication and picks up the prescription without me worrying I’m running low, or when he refills the car with fuel cos I worry about taking the children on the forecourt, 

As I stood in tesco earlier I looked for a card which said all of this, there were several other women in the same situation….. Why is it so hard to find the right one eh? I settled for this


With all the little things we don’t need Valentine’s Day, I mean he will never beat the treasure hunt proposal of 2010 and we normally play a game of who can buy the cheapist tackiest gift on the market… but the big things give you a chance to reflect on the day to day…. And if I get some flowers from my boo boo bear… Well that’s a bonus!! 


Twas the night before Christmas- A Birth Story

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
I began some deep breathing, leaning over the couch
My hubby inflated, the birth pool with air
In hopes that the midwives, soon would be there.

While our daughter was nestled, all snug in her bed,
I located the waterproof sheet from the shed.
And carefully placed it, (I hear waters can snap)
Over our bed, to takea short nap

Next from downstairs, arose such a clatter,
I rolled off of the bed, to see what was the matter.
away to the door, I hobbled between
contractions that made, me feel very green

My husband, through nerves, had neglected to see
the presents placed under the Christmas tree.
so, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a confused dad-to-be, with a face full of fear.

With an increase in nerves, and a baby so keen
We knew the moment had come, ‘call the jubilee team!’
More rapid than eagles, with pain relief she came,
Despite the awkward date: Cheryl by name!

‘Now try to relax, take deep breaths and count
I’ll take your vitals and write an account’
Why not walk up the stairs, or bounce on your ball
This could take a while, I’ll be here through it all

Between each belly tightening, I declared it quite easy
Only during contractions, did I feel fairly queasy
So bowls were fetched, in case I needed to spew,
Not glamorous no, but I’m being truthful with you

And then, in a twinkling, I heard up the stairs
Some prancing and dancing, ‘Santas been’ she declares
And I held in the pain, and turned myself round,
Down the stairs little Harriet, came with a bound.

She was dressed in her jammies, so excited, oh bless her,
We decided the grandparents, place would be better.
The bundle of Toys, would just have to wait,
We promised her Christmas, but at later a date.

Next my waters were broken, and time it stood still
‘Rest and be thankful’, Cheryl told me ‘just chill’
The pushing stage, would be tough as could be
But I’d not be alone, and ‘power to me’

Well try as I might, with gritting of teeth
Our bundle of joy, was unwilling to leave
while a transfer to hospital, was my greatest fear
I was tired and grumpy, (swearing a lot- so I hear)

Though the journey was 10 mins, it felt like an hour
I cried and I winced and I felt I’d lost power
But when we arrived, I gave it one final shot
And stuck-baby turned, (much to my shock)

‘It’s a Boy’ cried my husband, ‘with lots of dark hair’
Overcome with emotion, I did nothing but stare
Finally here after nine month of waiting
So perfect, our Rupert (all 9lb 1 of-him)

Cheryl quietly worked, to her team gave call,
We’re very grateful for, the support of them all.
She passed on her wishes, when she took her leave,
‘Happy Christmas to all, look at what you’ve achieved’1003824_10152019283914498_238448189_n