7 Kisses Goodnight

I look at you in wonder, my beautiful blonde haired boy.

Your perfect little nose, your expressive brow. The wrinkle that appears when you laugh from your belly. You almost always laugh in your sleep at least once. Its both terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Your breath which is rested and contented. Lulling you into sweet dreams.

Your lashes which could make a supermodel envious. You’ll create waves with those lashes, your very own breeze maker.

Your cupids bow still puckered, that wonderful little baby pout which you’ve never lost.

And the air around you, still, silent and comforting.

We always nod off together; head in lap, your hand on your chest with the other touching me, making sure I haven’t gone far.

That comfort and reassurance help you drift off to slumber but you’ll never realise its you comforting and reassuring me.

When I know you’re in a deep sleep, I move you up so that I cradle you. Your neck in the crook of my arm, your long body draped across my legs and your hand instinctively grasping at my ‘spot’ under my chin.

I take you all in. You could have been a monster ALL DAY LONG (trust me, it happens), but those sweet moments I get to hold you without you struggling to run away or blowing raspberries or squealing from tickles, are some of my most happiest minutes.

Time could stop and it wouldn’t matter.

My whole world is in my arms.

I nuzzle your cheek and feel your soft skin and I give 7 kisses. 6 little kisses then a big firm kiss at the end.

I could kiss you all day long and I am always asking for one from you, but the 7 kisses goodnight are the best.

I could be swamped with chores or needing to get out and run round the block, but I never leave without my 7 kisses.

They are a Mother’s kisses to her boy. Her baby. Her love.

7 Kisses Goodnight.


The lies we tell

James and I, well we’ve currently got an affinity to sing as many Frozen songs to each other as we possibly can. I can turn round in the hallway and sing to him ‘Let the storm rage on’ and he will hit back with ‘The cold never bothered me anyway’. We’re like Idina Menzal and Kirsten Bell but in Mother and Son form. It’s weird but we love it.

We’ve probably watched the film a silly amount of times and we laugh at the same parts each time and James mimics the words and it’s aces.

He’s understanding the concept of the storyline now and how Christof and Ana fall in love (‘They love each other Mummy Aww’) and how Elsa makes things frozen when she’s full of rage (‘Mummeh, can I make ice things when I’m sad?’). He gets it; you have an emotion and you react. James is full of emotions and it’s amazing trying to figure him out at the moment. He knows that if he does the bottom wibbly lip pout, it shatters my heart into a thousand pieces and I would give him my everything. He also knows that if he does that whine which ALL the children in ALL the world know how to do, it makes me want scream into a pillow. So he does it louder.

Whilst he is exploring these emotions, which we are freely letting him do, he needs to know what feelings are after all, it has brought out the protective Mama Bear out in me more than ever and now (especially since we have hit full on into the ‘WHY’ phase) I’m finding myself lying in order to protect him.

Case in point:

1. ‘Mummy, why does there have to be baddies?’ ‘Er, well they are called baddies for a reason and they never win and you don’t have to worry about that because you’re a good person’

2. ‘Mummy, why you going to work? You sad bout work?’
‘I ask this same question everyday bubs, but mainly it’s to keep you in Lego pieces. Build Mama a house to live in please and I can stop working’

3. ‘Mummy, why can’t I have some more cake and not eat my dinner and drink your special juice (gin) that makes you laugh?’
‘Because gin is for old people and you’re are young’

And so on and so on. I know we all lie to our children, sometimes we do it to pacify them because after the hundredth time of ‘But whhhhhhy’, it seems like the only logical thing to do.
We lie about the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy and Father Christmas but this is all part of their upbringing. It’s to keep them children for as long as you can.

We’ve always tried to be as honest as we can with James in some things though, as we want to instil that in him and so that he understands certain situations. He has to learn and grow too.

But as we watched Frozen for the second time last weekend, there was an opportunity to be completely honest with him. A chance to show him a fact of life that no one can escape from.
As we watched the scene where the Mother and Father leave Ana and Elsa for a trip at sea, the music tempo changes and the scene gets darker. Something ominous is about to occur and your heart sinks when you realise they’re not coming back. James realised they weren’t coming back and with very teary eyes and a silent cry (that cry where there is no noise but they hold their breath for what feels like eternity) he turned to me and sobbed.
I held him so tight and tried to comfort him and seek out what had spooked him so much.

‘Don’t leave me Mummy’

Heart. Shattered.

‘Baby boy, I will never leave you, I will always be here. You will always have me’

I kept it together somehow and just like any 3 year old should, he got excited by the next song which was thankfully 2 minutes later.

But later on, once he was in bed, I thought about the lie I told him. Of course there was no way I was about to go on a mortality discussion with a child, a boy who’s main concern at the moment is how far he can kick his pants across the room when he goes for a wee. I just hope that he won’t remember that lie I told because I won’t always be around. None of us live forever.
It was the biggest lie I’ve told him, to protect his wee fragile heart. I don’t regret it. I don’t want him to think about me going away or leaving him for a ‘trip on a ship in a storm’. He doesn’t need to know right now what happens after that storm.
He just needs to know his Mummy (and Daddy) will always be here. Riding out the storm.

The lies we tell.


To be or not to be…now I have my answer

15 months…check. Boom.

Today I had the pleasure of meeting Dr L (damn I knew I should have name checked you!) who after introducing herself, promptly told me how much she liked my bag. The Mulberry had its first hospital outing today.

We chatted for a bit and the usual questions came up;
‘Bowel ok?’
‘Well, actually, the urgency to go for a wee is a bit more now but manageable’. She explained how this was a lasting effect of the radiotherapy I had and completely normal. Also doesn’t help that I have had a baby and any Mama knows your wee patterns are never quite the same after you have had your little darling…

It was then time for the main event…the physical examination.
Whilst chatting about how cheeky our ‘threenagers’ are especially when it comes to ratting you out about your alcohol consumption, Dr L, did a thorough internal (which still has me wincing despite all the treatment I have encountered – you never get used to a doctor with a plastic tool up your hoo-haa) and made a couple of comments (which I will spare you dear readers, but it was very reassuring) and gave me the delightful news that the fuckwit, cervical cancer, was still being kept at bay…for another 3 months at least.

Boo – fucking – ya! 15 Month check – nailed it.

And actually breathe again and nearly pass out from holding it in.

Throughout my appointments, throughout all the questions I am asked by doctors, nurses and other medical professionals, there is one question I have been been too scared to ask. I’ve not wanted to know why because knowing would take the last smidge of hope away.
But today, today I had the courage to ask because I need to move on to the next part of my life and stop tormenting myself.

I sat with a tissue in my hand, my head concentrating on my lap and with Dr L leaning forward to try and hear what I wanted say through the tears already falling from my eyes.

‘I know I can’t have anymore children, but I want to know why’

I know its a silly question, we know why, but I needed to know in black and white. I needed the facts, however hard it is to hear.

‘There are two parts; part one your ovaries would have been in the radiation field and therefore the eggs would be damaged; part two your womb would also have been in that area and not able to accommodate a baby’

As soon as she said that, it was as if a weight was was lifted.
A simple clarity to assist in dissipating a lifetime of heartache.
That horrible thing your body does, tricking you into thinking something could be happening because you recognise a niggle that ‘ooo might possibly’ be ovulation pain…can be just swept aside now.

We have a very amazing friend, so amazing that she offered to be a surrogate for Pete and I, but now, knowing what I do now about my eggs, its made it easier for that decision to be discounted, but be forever in her debt for thinking of doing something so selfless.
Even Dr L got a bit emotional about that. I love Dr L. She’s a Mama. She knows.

So the next step…maybe now we can actually talk about the next step. Whatever that maybe.

And maybe now I can take some comfort in the fact that I might not carry anymore children, but I am here and I am well.

Once the tears have dried of course.

To be or not to be…now I have my answer.


I’m sitting here in my chair, admiring the nails I’ve just had done and their gorgeous purple hue.
I’ve got some purple stocks gracing a vase and some Sweet William to add to it with the most violet petals.
I’ve planned my purple outfit and in my head are the words I’ll put as Facebook statuses and tweets.

Tuesday the 20th May will be the day when I see my fabulous Bart’s team again for my 15-month check.

15 months??? How is that possible? I very nearly forgot this appointment. We went to book a holiday and it popped up in my calendar. Although it’s never really far from my mind, I am beginning to let it go and not dominate my life as much anymore.

I’ve had a few people ask why I like people to show me there purple clothes every 3 months; the truth is I can’t really remember how is started, I think it was a tweet about being part of an army when I started my treatment and it just gathered from there. And now I ask people to do it because it brings me comfort. For one day every 3 months, I get people send me messages, tweets, Facebook pictures and emails with all the creative ways they can conjure up purple for me. From babies in handbags to lilac badges to purple knickers. Yes I have had several underwear photos sent to me. All done tastefully of course.

It makes no sense and the cynical realist I have become knows it doesn’t really mean anything to any tests that I have, or , to the outcome of that little appointment that I have on Tuesday.

But for a few hours every 3 months, I have a group of people (#purplearmy #fransarmy) who are willing to let me know they are thinking of me and support me. In all seriousness, it’s those few hours that help me forget the build up of tension and anxiety each appointment brings.

It’s my army who get me through.

And I want to thank you all for doing it in the most imaginative ways possible!

I love you all.

Send your prayers, if you pray.
Send your good thoughts and vibes, if you have them.
Send your love, luck and hugs.
And send your pictures of you in purple.
That gesture alone is worth so much to me.

Totes wanting to show off my tiny tan I have…




To my darling James,

It’s that time of year when Mama reminisces of when the trees bloom their blossom while I waited for my Spring baby to arrive. I remind myself how I waddled and paused for contractions to pass as I made my way to the Auntie Giu’s car. It took
20 minutes to walk 30ft.
Every time I go over a cattle grid it takes me right back to that journey to the hospital. I’m pretty sure that sped up the dilating for sure, although I wouldn’t recommend that method.

Today you turn 3.

What do I say to you about you turning 3?
You are challenging, inquisitive and strong willed.
You are stubborn, bolshy yet beautifully kind.

You are my boy, my baby, my absolute world.

How on earth is it ever possible that you are the tiny age of 3, yet 3 is simply a magnificent age.

Off to be a Superhero again....

Off to be a Superhero again….

1095 days ago you came into our lives and simply changed it forever. I say simply because loving you is the easiest thing in the world for me. Being a Mother, now that’s the hard part.

James you’re a threenager in the making with tantrums that can break a ninja.
A wibbly lip that melts me into putty with a tiny tear to guilt trip me for days.
But that smile. Oh that smile makes me fall in love with you everyday.

You make me hap-pea too my boy.

You make me hap-pea too my boy.

You and I can talk for hours and very often we do. You tell me everything that’s in your head and everything around you.
Your imagination is running wild and I hope you never lose it. Having something so amazing will keep you entertained for hours. Trust me, it’s what keeps Mama sane sometimes. Going into your little world, making the mundane around you more exciting.
But everything is exciting in a 3 year olds world. From taking the train to a far away land (Liverpool Street), to going on holiday (staying overnight at Auntie NaNa’s), to jumping off a pirate ship (jumping off the side of the swimming pool).

Your favourite things are:
Gary the Snail
Dinosaurs especially Andy’s Dinosaur adventures
Surprise eggs (Kinder surprise)
Racing (running from room to room)
Making tea with your red teapot
Pharrell Williams, Kasabian and Elbow
Your best friend Johnny
Minnie Dog and Lexi-bum
And you love everything ‘dis much’.

Big smiles when you're with your Minnie Dog.

Big smiles when you’re with your Minnie Dog.

As with every letter I write to you, I always say how well you talk and there is no exception here. You love to chat and enjoy nothing more than a natter on your phone. Which is also your hand.

Your manner in which you do things whilst bull in a china shop-esque, is also mixed with the grace of a dancer. Except for when you thump and we have to tell you to be be quiet otherwise you’ll wake baby Molly.

You’re still in love with Baby Molly by the way and you have a soft spot for lots of other ladies too. Flashing your gorgeous brown eyes. I simply cannot think where your flirtatious side comes from.

James, sometimes (I mean this in the nicest possible way) you can be a little shit. You are definitely in the ‘how far can I try my parents patience’ stage and for every wonderful thing you do, you follow it up with ratbaggery of some kind.
But, you’re good most of the time, so we won’t ship you off to boarding school anytime soon.

James, things are changing and you’re growing up faster than I’d like. Soon you’ll be at nursery full time and then before we know it, you’ll be in school.
But never, ever forget that no matter what age you are, you’ll never stop being my baby.

Sharing cheese with Mama

Sharing cheese with Mama

Having fun with Daddy.

Having fun with Daddy.

And as we keep saying to each other and to Daddy, you’re my best friend.

Enjoy being 3 my sweet, darling boy.

I love you more than you’ll ever know

Keep growing strong,
Mama x

Selfie poser

I hope you know…

For you both…

I hope you know that when I leave you, it hurts just the same as the first time I did.

I hope you know that when we part, I always glance back to try and catch your eye.

I hope you know I watch you, while you sleep and trace your frown lines.

I hope you know that I kiss your head as you doze and whisper I love you.

I hope you know, I kiss my hand and put it on your door, as I creep out to work in the morning.

I hope you know how my heart beats faster, at the mere mention of your name.

I hope you know that we’re having chicken for dinner tomorrow.

I hope you know how proud I am of you, of me, of us.

I hope you know I couldn’t love anything as much as I love you.

I hope you know how much you soothe me when I’m scared, I’m weak, I’m sad.

I hope you know I still practice my married signature everyday.

I hope you know I want the Girls soundtrack downloaded, please.

I hope you know how hard it is to get up in the morning, knowing it’ll be hours till I see you again.

I hope you know you’re worth it. You’re worth all this and more.

I hope you know how happy you make me feel today.

I hope, and need, you to know.

Toddler talks…What is love?

In what potentially could be a new part of my blog, me and James have lots of insightful conversations mainly surrounding a question either on of us has asked.
Such classics include:

‘But why is it raining? I want bubbles’

And the classic which I’m sure lots of Mummy’s have had to encounter…

‘You has two bottoms. Why? It’s furry!’

So with this in mind, after having a very challenging 20 minutes discussing how much I actually loved him and explaining that I have bigger arms so must love him more, James gave a great explanation to that lovely love question.

Out of the mouth of babes — in case you needed clarification, he says that love makes him feel better.

I appear to have something in my eye *sobs*

Toddler talk…I can’t wait to see what else he has to say.