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Father Christmas is taking all my 3 year olds pull ups away with him when he drops off his presents Christmas Eve.  I’ve been told by him that if Santa brings him some big boy pants then he’ll go to the toilet and won’t need them anymore.

Well, this is our last resort after a year of trying every single way we can think of to get rid of the pull up pants. We know he’s capable of going to the toilet because he does once a day before his bath at night time.  Getting him to go any other time of the day though would be nothing short of a miracle.  Yes, he did right at the beginning because I suppose it was a novelty being new to him, but now I’ll watch in disbelief when he’s obviously weeing/pooing in front of me. When that happens I’m like a mad woman on a mission to get him to the toilet in time to do it there instead of me having to change another putrid nappy.  At 3 and a half now changing his bum literally makes me gag.  Its no longer baby poo we’re talking about but poo that should be flushed down the toilet straight away!

Now, when I say we’ve tried everything I really do mean it.  Sticker charts, rewards, bribery, praise.  We’ve done tick charts for the whole family, so everytime one of us goes to the toilet we get a tick.  We’ve even had a money box next to the toilet so whenever he went he’d get money to add to his collection so he could buy a toy.  We’ve let him choose his own big boy pants too, which he was really chuffed about only to get home, put them on, then after an hour or so saying he didn’t need the toilet yet, proceed to make a gigantic puddle on my lounge floor.  Thank god for wooden floors is all I can say.  My house would stink to high heaven if I had carpet with the amount of ‘accidents’ i’ve mopped up.

So my wish for Christmas is this – Please Father Christmas bring my little man some pants with magic wings on them that fly him to the toilet when he needs it!  That in itself would make my Christmas just perfect!

My house is full of runny noses at the moment, well, half  full at least.  My clothes are stiff from dried snot wiped on me while holding and soothing my little man, and with the amount of tissues we’ve gone through the past few days just us alone could probably keep Kleenex in business!

It’s always this time of year just before Christmas everyone is coughing, spluttering and blaming the cold weather for every ailment we have, while praying at the same time it’s gone by the big day when all smiles and jumping with excitement is a must for the children when they see their full sacks.

With that in mind the Calpol is stocked up in the medicine cupboard alongside the Neurofen Cold &  Flu for us so we’re fully prepared for anything we’re struck down with.  If that doesn’t work I’m sure the wine and baileys that’s in ready for Christmas should numb the pain!

If you looked up ‘Worry’ in the dictionary there I would be, because that is seriously what I do day and night.  It can range from something little to something big, but if I have nothing to worry about then I’m sure to find something soon enough otherwise even that would make me worry!

I know that everyone worries about different things, but I really do think that I take it to the extreme.

When I eventually go to bed at night I lay there thinking for an hour or so about everything before I can even think about closing my eyes to go to sleep.  I worry about anything and everything.  From small things like wondering if I’ve checked the oven etc is turned off, (even though I’ve checked at least 3 times before bed), to appointments which could be in a weeks time, but I’m already stressed out about it in case I can’t park to get there or I’ve got the wrong day and time.

I worry that people are looking at me, even though logically there would be no reason for them to more than anyone else.  I worry about the school run everyday when I’m struggling to get all 3 kids in the car and I can see people behind me waiting tapping there fingers.  I worry that people don’t really like me but feel they have to talk to me in certain situations just to be polite.  I worry maybe I don’t pay enough attention to each of my boys individually and when they grow up they’ll resent me for it.  I worry about the queue that always seems to be waiting behind me in the shop when I’m trying to pack my bags and things are tipping out because they’re so full…  The list is honestly endless but each thing is as much of a worry to me than the next.  In fact, sometimes I’m physically sick with worry.

I swear my head will explode the amount of things that I think about altogether at the same time. My OCD really doesn’t help the situation either.  That is a totally different topic though which I’m not sure I’m brave enough to share yet for the fear of people thinking I should be locked up!

The one thing I really hope for is that my boys never worry like I do because I’m sure I do enough worrying on their part anyway, and at 27 I already have the grey hairs to prove it too!

Agony Aunt Sarah they should call me.  If anyone has a problem it ends up being mine soon enough too when it’s offloaded onto me.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been one that loves helping people and offering my advice in the hope it will help.  I even pride myself on being quite good at it too if I’m quite honest.  There’s always a sense of satisfaction when you know you’ve helped someone with something that was weighing on their mind.  A problem shared is a problem halved as the saying goes.

The issue I have is when you’re told something in confidence that you know you should act upon but know its not your place to do so.  What do you do?  Go with your gut instincts or just be there for that person to lean on?  Do you risk losing that friendship and their confidence in you, or do what you thinks right?  Are you a proper friend if you speak out when they’ve trusted you?  Then again, are you a proper friend if you don’t?  Have you been told by them in the hope you speak out, or just to get it off their chest?

I have so many questions but absolutely no answers at all.  Sometimes I wish maybe if I was selfish people wouldn’t tell me what’s going on in their life and I wouldn’t be in the situation I am now.  That’s not me though, and I could never be like that either because then I wouldn’t be me!  So for the time being I’ll just carry on thinking things through and hopefully come up with the right decision in the end.  If that means betraying someone’s trust,  it doesn’t necessarily mean its the wrong thing to do… does it?

The months have gone so very quick and Christmas is now here

With sparkly lights and merry fun with lots of festive cheer.

The mulled wine is ‘a’ brewing and the carols being sung

Christmas trees are all put up and on it baubles hung.

The children are excited and are waiting for the night

That Santa comes and visits them with Rudolph’s nose so bright.

The stockings will be hanging up and waiting to be filled

So come the time that mornings here the kids will all be thrilled.

The table will have left on it a treat for Santa too

A plate of cake and cup of milk with carrots for his crew.

The children will be tucked up tight and resting in their bed

Just in time to fall asleep when favourite stories read.

The crack of dawn will come round fast and with it lots of fun

Now presents can be opened up and Christmas days begun.

The paper will be scattered and the empty boxes too

The toys will all be played with now as each of them are new.

So now the time is drawing close and soon it will be here

We wish you all a happy day and have a great new year. xxx

Every single movement my 3 year old makes is like a professional pose.  Even if it’s just a matter of standing still, a hand has to be placed on a hip or a leg at a certain angle.  Talk about a supermodel in the making… thing is my wannabe model is a boy not a girl!  Not that this makes any difference to him though.  He has me laughing out loud the way he prances around the house like he’s come straight from the catwalk.  In fact come to think of it, he’d probably put Naomi Campbell to shame!

The funny thing about it is he’s totally oblivious to everything he does because it’s just one of his many funny traits.  To say he’s stubborn is a complete understatement which doesn’t even come close to reality.  God help any future girlfriends he may have because they don’t stand a chance of getting their own way.  No bribery or corruption works with him.  Believe me I’ve been there done that and completely failed in the process.

He is a definite ‘mummy’s boy’, which has now turned to the extreme.  If it’s not me that does everything for him it just won’t do, and anyone elses help will quite often be rejected with screaming and throwing of items across the room.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great feeling to know how much he loves me but the exhaustion of it is beginning to hit home and can be stressful and difficult with two other children as well.

With all the above in mind among other things too, and after a pretty disastrous routine 3 and a half year check , discussions with so called ‘experts’ about his behaviour patterns etc have turned out the problems we encounter with him could be more than just him being naughty and may be something more.  This idea is a sort of relief in a way knowing its not his or our fault.  The one thing I know though is this – Whatever the outcome of all these discussions, he’s our little monkey no matter what and if things can get better it would just be a bonus because we love him ‘naughty’ or not!x

How come it always decides to rain when I’m trying to get all the kids in the car?  As if its not a struggle enough with an 8 month old that straightens his back in refusal to sit, and a 3 year old that takes a backpack with him that must have its entire contents emptied and placed in its specific position before he lets me strap him in.  By the time the backpack rituals over, I’m normally so drenched I may as well have just gone and sat in a puddle to wait!

I honestly reckon the clouds time themselves to turn black and explode just as I lock the house up to leave.  They especially love saving themselves for when I’ve just applied a fresh coat of black mascara which is definitely not waterproof….  Me and rain have never, and will never mix.  My hair tells me this too when it goes from straight and sleek to the afro from hell in 0.2 seconds whenever even a droplet touches it…. Whoever made hair straighteners needs to be knighted because without them I quite possibly would never leave the house!

Roll on the summer is what I say.  Blue skies, warm sun and most importantly not a lot of rain.  I’m sure if it does rain though it will track me down wherever I am!

It would be impossible to figure out the number of times a day I tell my boys not to run in the house.  I know boys will be boys, but having a wooden floor and not a carpet would make even a mouse scurrying along  sound like a baby elephant!  The noise of that and the sound of their large collection of gogos being thrown around the room is really not the best way to wake me up in the mornings!

I can’t say I’ve ever been a morning person to be honest, but since I’ve had children and the all-day sunday lay-ins have sadly disappeared, I’m worse than ever if that was at all possible.

People that wake up in the morning with a bounce in their step and a twinkle in their eye have either lost the plot or just drunk far too much coffee the night before.  Who in the world would be happy getting out of their nice, cosy, warm bed in the winter when its raining outside, and then have to get ready for work, or in my case do the dreaded school run…. not me that’s for sure!

I’ve always been someone that’s quite tired, but admittedly the reason I’m so tired at the moment is entirely my own fault.  The way I see it, as much as I love all 3 of my boys, when they’re all finally asleep at night, that’s the only quiet time of my day so I make the most of it.   Not that I do anything constructive at all really,  I just relish the peace so much I don’t end up in bed until about 1am.  Crazy? yes! That’s me though.  Sometimes logic goes entirely out the window.    Typing this now has got me thinking …  Tomorrow morning when the usual thudding of the floorboards happen at 5:50, maybe I should calmly come downstairs and ask my boys to stop instead of immediately shouting down to them… then again, with my hair still to wash and straighten, hubbys shirt to iron, a packed lunch to make, and the washing to put on the clothes-horse tonight, I can’t see me being very calm and collected in the morning!

One word… cake!  I absolutely love eating cake and would quite literally carry on until I popped.  O.K. so maybe my bum, belly and thighs hate cake, but when I’m eating it all thoughts of where the extra fat is going to plonk itself on my body just goes out the window.

Anyway, my love of cake has obviously been passed down to my boys too, so a few years ago I decided instead of buying cakes for special occasions like birthdays I’d try to be a domesticated mummy and bake and decorate them myself.

So, see below for the proof of my attempts.  I’m fairly impressed so far, and even though the decorating part seems to take hours its worth it all just to see the boys faces light up at the final product.

I’m still learning as I go, so any tips or techniques for the future would be much appreciated.

What is it with people’s obsession with my sex life?!  All I ever heard when I was pregnant with my 3rd boy was;

‘Nevermind, you can always try again to get your girl!’

‘Blimey,’ I felt like saying,  ‘Is it ok if I give birth to this one first?!’

Much to everyones surprise I wasn’t disappointed when yet another set of  boy bits showed up on my 5 month scan.  I kind of had a feeling, and my eldest had already declared girls were yukky, so it suited us all.

It was everyone else’s reactions that threw me, ‘maybe next time’ seemed to be their favourite phrase.

Next time?!  I thought!  After the three sickest pregnancies, and my last labour from hell, those two words were definitely not in my vocabulary.

It’s now been 7 months since my littlest man was born and I’ve realised why I keep having babies…  I love them!

Their cute little laugh when you pick them up, the cheesy grin they give you when they’re up to no good, the way they think it’s hilarious to play tug of war with your hair!… the list is endless.

So maybe after my initial reaction of never again,  I might just change my mind in the future, and regardless of what everyone else thinks, whether it’s a little princess or another to add to my growing football team, I will be very happy indeed!

My Littlest Man's 4d Scan