So we spent the weekend with friends who have two young sons. They are excellent eaters, chomping down everything their mother puts on their plates.  On the flip side they are notoriously light sleepers waking even at age 3 upto 6 times each night.

Anyway, on the day they were prepping for a open afternoon/ evening party of about 40 people and so while the children played we helped cleaning and organising. Duckling had a brilliant time, running around and generally running riot in a warehouse of someone else’s toys. In the evening (as we were staying overnight) I kept to the normal routine: dinner, bath, milk and sleep. And for once duckling did not protest – sleep was welcome after a hard days work decimating someone. else’s. toys.

So the guests started arriving while the routine was being put in place. As it was an open evening tea type party by the time duckling went to bed only a core group of about 10 people remained. Boy was nursing his 3rd glass of something a bit strong. I ate a few snacks and was sticking to cola and polite conversation with this group of people whom we had never met before.

My friend kept urging me to drink something stronger. I declined because the Boy was already drinking and I wanted to be alert as we were in a new place and with new bed under ducking I wanted to be there incase there was any waking up in the middle of the night. Also I’m an alcoholic lightweight and even 1 glass makes me feel a bit woozy. But most importantly this was my decision as a fully capable adult and after 5 tries of urging me she should have stepped away from the topic. I do not owe anyone explanations for my decisions. On her 6th try, from the sheer wearing down of my defenses, I told her my reason of wanting to be alert at night. She instantly mocked me by turning to her friend and saying ‘and this woman is always telling us how her duckling sleeps through the night’. I ignored this jibe as did the complete stranger.

The conversation then turned to sleeping as all 10 adults had children and in any parents life sleep and its deprivation are big topics. I was explaining in what I thought was a self-deprecating way about how duckling struggles with food but is an excellent sleeper. Apparently my friend did not think so for her next sentence was about how ‘it’s no wonder duckling sleeps so well, if you go to work duckling must just be bored with life.’ Silence you could cut with a knife.

I am once again gobsmacked at the audacity of smug stay at home mothers who assume the mantle for all to wage war against all mothers who choose to work. Work and boredom have nothing to do with my child’s sleeping patterns. The good habit of resting between hectic days of fun filled play do. Why do women have to put others down to justify their own decisions is not something I will ever quite understand. Stay at home if you will, just don’t throw your homespun views about my child’s life because their mother works. You know nothing about it and are best sticking to opinions about your own children.

Of course now that there is laughter, non-stop running around and our very own toystore strewn across the carpet all I wonder is when is it going to be bedtime. Ducklings. And honestly, mine.

There are no adjectives to describe this level of tiredness. Exhaustion is a mere tip of the iceberg.

Of course now that I have my very own duckling I am the mother with all the milestones – of the ‘oooh look how duckling walks, oooh look what duckling did/ said’ etc, variety. I successfully hold back the urge to stop people in the street and make duckling point to ‘shoooos’ and tell us that ducks say ‘quaaak quaaak’. Instead I torment my family with duckling antics and write them in a scrapbook when I can find time.

If I am not careful this blog could turn into a blog that blathers on about my child. Watch it woman!

There is a choice after childbirth. To return to work or not. And everybody is free to make the choice that suits their situation best. Whether the motivations are monetary or not, each family weighs the pros and cons before taking a decision that works for them. I have absolute respect for mothers who choose to stay and home and rear their child or children, involved in every way every day. But equally I respect that some mothers go back to work, vital to their well being and view of the world. There is no right or wrong unless it adversely affects the child or your relationships and even then a change of balance or priorities can always even/ smooth things out.

What I absolutely HATE (yes, every letter in that is a Capital with a capital C) are Smug At Home Mothers. These are SAHMs with an attitude problem – a world apart from those who choose to make their choice and live with it while accepting that others may have different choices. So I am calling them SmAHM’s for the purpose of this diatribe.

I work. And I make no bones about it. I like working and I feel that it makes me a better mother. I don’t think there was ever a moment when I doubted that this was the best option for me and for duckling. Duckling thrives at nursery, making friends, playing with more toys than a toy store, eating a varied menu, going on mini excursions and has the attention of friends and carers besides an array of activities I could even fathom let alone provide.

So it is my choice that I go to work. I and Boy and Duckling, this is our life. It works for us. We have a routine and yes it involves some tears but overall everyone is happier and better for it.

So I totally resent you, YOU SmAHM, with your digs at my child-rearing skills, my failure to breasfeed for more than 6 months, my duckling’s going to nursery and my choice to go to work. I wanted to slap you and walk away from being your friend – which is a crying shame because we used to be friends proper and true before our children appeared. But obviously we are now divided on the how what and where of child rearing. And while I totally get your choices you clearly did not for a moment think that saying the things you did was inapropriate or pushy.

Everyone’s choice is valid. Leave it at that. Embrace it. And for heaven’s sake don’t trip over into ‘advice’ giving where it is not wanted. Basically Shut the f**k up.

Or rather stayed still (when you cried all night with colic) and zipped right past (when you went from crawling to standing precariously on your toes in just one afternoon). One is a magical number for these inept parents – we have not only managed to survive a year of parenthood but got you through it unscathed in any way. We have bored our friends and family silly with your antics – those of simple evolution but each a huge step for mankind in our eyes. You are a delightful child and each morning when I look at you smiling as broadly as can be at me, as you wait by your cot rails to be picked up for the day ahead, I am a little more in love with you.

From that first scan (which looks like a smudged poloroid of the inside of a wallet to everyone but these besotted to be parents) to the passport sized picture of you we got this Sunday (in which your open mouthed smile of all 5 teeth and your baby curls take up centerstage) it has been a heart thudding year. I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart.

Your foolish Old mother

Now I am merely a side attraction at the circus.

But all that time I never gave much thought to what kind of mother I would be. I thought I would be like all the other mothers and learn on the job. Be supported by friends and family, read the books and change our lives to fit in this child. All through my wonderful, craving-free pregnancy we imagined what life would be like once duckling entered the picture. We said ridiculous things to each other about how cute our duckling would be, what our first few holidays with baby would be and even lofty stuff like what values etc we wanted duckling to grow up with. But these were all abstract thoughts, connected to reality only with invisible thread.

The first 3 months with duckling were quite cosseted. We had visiting family and a constant stream of friends, laden with gifts and good advice. And although physical exhaustion kept  mental exercise at bay I found excuse after excuse to not do much with baby outside the 4 walls of home. I still remember planning to take duckling out on my own for the very first time. It needed a prodding phonecall from a friend and a motivational speech later I reached the end of my street. I remember coming home and calling her to say that we walked to the end of the lane and back and instead of laughing in my face (as she should have) she gently praised me and made it sound like I had achieved an arduous mountain climb.

Things have improved now that we have crossed the half year mark. I am less afraid of breaking the baby as it were. But at dinner with a friend a few weeks ago I had to admit that for a normally fairly brave person I look like and pretty much am a coward when it comes to my child. With the continuous santising and planning every miniscule detail of every expedition (what even a drive to the shops feels like) I forgot to exhale. I held my breath in for a whole half year and am only now re-learning my way around my lungs and my world with a baby in tow.

For the first 6 months I was overwhelmed in a way that more or less paralysed me and in hindsight it is not something I am proud of. It’s very unlike my character and now that I recognise it I am making every effort to be a bit braver and enjoy my time with duckling in the wider world. I have learnt many a lesson in motherhood (not least that plastic crap is  a waste of money when all duckling wants is an empty plastic water bottle) and I hope that when I look back on this first year I can see both my flaws and my efforts to overcome them clearly. I really do have the loveliest friends though, for encouraging me and giving me the straight talking I needed, firmly and gently.

This is the good life.

I have had days in the past few months where I thought I would never leave the house again, what with a feeding-sleeping-pooping schedule that waits for no woman. But from months ago when each trip out was an adventure (which could go badly wrong with screaming {both me and duckling} and needed rations for an army) now we have become dab hands at it, planning well in advance, packing all our stuff and spending the day with friends and then taking duckling out to a restaurant for dinner with yet other friends. We have mchanisms to distract duckling, an understanding of what various whines groans and cries mean, and the confidence in our hands to soothe like we’ve been doing this our whole lives.

My day is spent enjoying ducklings antics. Loads of crawling! exploring! picking at things! mainly off the ground. Reading and singing to duckling. Providing running commentary for what is currently being done, all in anticipation for when baby words start to sprout. Duckling (and we) have come a long long long way from when we were so unsure of ourselves. Duckling needing comfort, food and sleep and us needing reasurance that we weren’t in danger of breaking the baby. These past few months have become Fun, with a capital F.

It turns out that time does indeed fly when one is having Fun.

We’ve been staying indoors, avoiding the gusty wintery weather and childpoofing for an increasingly active baby. All tasks that take up more energy than two exhausted ducks can really muster. Duckling is understandably clingy, burrowing their little face into our necks for comfort while hanging on like koala bear. We feel quite powerless in the face of a virus that must run its course to get out of the system.

A year ago this time, I was sitting with my feet up imagining how our lives would change once duckling arrived. I guess now I know.