Calling Your Cat Names 

Bastian my cat is annoying early in the morning. You might say he’s cute and beautiful and whatever words you want to use for this:


But he is making me consider slitting my veins in the early hours when I’m juggling breakfast and pee pee and dressing up responsibilities to the best of my ability and this mofo stares at me from outside scratching the kitchen door only to wait on the porch and lick his fur when I let him in in haste. Once he eats his food he claws my calf asking for more and I swear to an Egyptian cat he looks like this:


Is calling a cat “dog” counts as verbal abuse?

There’s nothing to be proud of but I did tell him: “No more food for you, dog”.

He left the room and jumped on San-Jay’s bed.

Not my problem now. Phew…

I Don’t Want to Be Boring

The other day, when I had a chat with my work colleague about children she announced: “I do want to have children but not yet because I don’t want to be boring”.

I laughed with endearment and thought at th  first split of the second that I should feel offended or at least defensive. But I didn’t.

I certainly didn’t consider this an insult but this one little innocent statement definitely made me think.

Now, that I am a mother, am I boring? Am I really boring? And I can answer this with absolutely no hesitation. Yes I am. I am perceived as boring. My days of partying are over, I go to sleep at the same time as my daughter, I skip company’s drinks because I rush to my daughter, I don’t remember when I last went to the cinema with my husband, let alone friends.  What friends? I already have had a handful and now I don’t even make an effort to go for an occasional girls night out.

Socially I am dead! I also lost my mojo one could think. I would rather say on the other hand – my mojo transformed. Yes, it transformed. Now I have a mummy mojo and although there’s still a hole in my soul unfulfilled wig the things that I love and either sacrificed or lost energy to re- take up, I devote myself to my long awaited mother persona. 

And I am the least fun human on the planet at the moment but it is so worth it…

Do You Consider This Annoying? 

Is it normal to be annoyed with your husbands so much that the punishment ideas just queue in your head. And not because or when your period is coming.

My mother used to put laxatives in his dinner the next day he came home too late (and basically had more fun out than her in stuck, with two hormonal teenage girls).

I literally had to use all my self-control powers today to not wipe my husband’s mug with Arya’s soiled wipe. And not for any particular reason. Basically for the whole 10 years of annoyance.

I’m a horrible wife but I promised nothing.

Last Day in Nursery

Today was very emotional. Well, the whole week was but when you see a teacher and a driver loading toys onto a truck in front of your daughter’s first nursery you instantly burst out crying. You wonder if your child understands what’s happening,when passing corridors with walls bare without signs and posters, toys lined up on the tables as if waiting for a new owner. With her usual cheerful face, greeting her teachers, only this time throwing a bunch of flowers into the director’s hands, Arya started her last day in the Marble Arch Nursery. Because some prick priest (sorry, that’s what I feel) had to claim the space in the basement and eventually won’t the battle with the nursery director for whatever activity he wants to carry out there. 

Arya, hugging and kissing, was she aware that this was her last day?

When we entered the classroom to take a photo, Arya looked so comfortable and confident there looking at me and Sanj with the “this is my hood” spark in her eye.

Well, no more sweetheart and one only hopes that mums of your friends will let them see you from time to time after the nursery closes this evening.

So many sleepless nights – will she enjoy the new nursery? How long will the settling in last? Will she remember? 

Thank you Marble Arch Nursery for massively contributing to our daughter’s great development. For all the friendships she’s made with adults and children. 


Prayer

Thank you life for letting me be a mother. An experience which I yearned to feel since I was a little girl. An experience which I wrongly thought would be a given and journey to which turned out to be a horrible struggle. 

Every day I think of all those who haven’t been given the chance yet and I pray to you: Let them!

The unfulfilled need to be a mother is worse than hunger, sleeplessness or any other torture known on earth. 

On Bilingual Mothers who Are Not Really Bilingual

I’m Polish. Bred and raised. Yet my daughter (now almost 2.5 years old, as she says: she’s “two o’s”) wields only her own mother tongue (aka English) , except a few occasional: “kocham”, “czesc” or “dzieki”.

Since Arya’s day one, I have been feeling guilty about this fact although I consciously made a choice not to speak to her in Polish mostly out of of convenience (I don’t have Polish speakers around me to converse on a daily basis). The guilt is coming from the societal (and sociolinguistic) view on raising children in a bilingual family. I’ve heard million times: “You should speak to Arya in your language, it’s really bad you don’t”.

And for the whole list of the reasons I have learnt when studied linguistics I do know they are right. Yes, Bilingual children are smarter, geniuses and they know a second language by default.

For years now I t has been hard for me to speak Polish. I don’t speak Polish daily. My family doesn’t call me regularly for chats in my native tongue, I don’t work with Polish people, I don’t have many Polish friends who I meet often. I breathe, think and speak English (far from RP, but I still do). I have been for over 12 years now (even in the Uni before than we spoke English all the time because we studied in English). How am I supposed to suddenly switch? 

And yes the dark cloud of guilt follows me every day and I don’t need gurus on trains and occasional encounters telling me “YOU SHOULD” like I’m depriving my daughter of her basic rights. Go back to your lives and let me live with my guilt in my own world. I promise, Arya will speak Polish before I die.

 

Moana

Never been a fan of Disney movies. Bambi, Lion King – parents die, Sleeping Beauty waiting for her true love sleeping prior to serving 7 other men (O.K., I know, it’s Grimm’s story originally). Yes,  I understand all of them tell beautiful stories of being strong and believing your dreams but I could always find something wrong about each of them. Well, not always wrong, but not quite right.

My first and only (up to this day) favourite one was for a long time was Princess and the Frog with its beautiful Almost There song (no, it’s not a chanting tune for during sex), very close to my heart. And now, Moana joins this short list.

Perhaps it’s a commercial grasp of the moment (as it’s usually the case) , as Christy Lemire says: “Moana would have been enormously entertaining regardless of when it came out, but its arrival at this particular moment in history gives it an added sense of significance—as well as inspiration.” but Moana takes every girl to walk with her arm in arm, with their doubts, good, gentle hearts,

She’s strong, kind and beautiful, willing to learn, loving her family, devoted to her community, doubting herself but listening to her heart which is entwined with her intelligence. She’s the woman. She’s every single woman. Ridiculed by some big muscle demi-god:

“You are gonna stay here with the other chicken.”

“Daughter of the chief.
I thought you stayed in the village.
You know, kissing babies and things.”

“If you wear a dress and have an animal sidekick, you are a princess.

And she puts up with this. And she makes him a better man.

For all of you ladies:

Moana

Beautiful and sexy can go very well together with strength, sporty, intelligent.

No one Around

I haven’t been writing. I’ve been tired. More emotionally and mentally than physically.

I’m tired and apart from that – almost no access to my phone or a computer apart from work and when Arya falls asleep so not really able to keep the update. I fall asleep right after her. I love my baby with all my heart and I can’t bear being away from her just for my own pleasure or leasure although I so badly need it.

I haven’t been here for a while also because otherwise I would complain or ask for her and I don’t do that. I wish I did but I don’t want to sound like a whining woman (who my husband surely thinks I am)

Arya’s the only one I’ve got. She has been since she was born but with time more and more.

I can’t bear weekends because I feel so lonely. I can’t sit down with Arya at the table with a cup of tea and chat? I can’t have a man and woman nice evening together with a man telling me that I’m still pretty and that he would like to take me somewhere nice and then follow through. I can’t even speak about it to any of my very few friends because they’ve got their lives and I’m the strong one who can always cope and my life is not that bad afterwards. In fact it’s pretty good. I finally have my perfect family…

I can’t count on my family either. And in the moments like this I want to hide my face in my hands and burst out crying spasmatically. 

Arya is my life. And I say it with tears of bliss; if not her I don’t know if I would be in flesh here and now. But I also am a woman, just a human. It’s all about balance but it never is.

Normally you don’t read posts like that in blogs which you expect to tackle only the essence of awesomeness. These are posts in those self-deprecating, pessimistic holes of the Internet. Well life is not an Instagram Profile. Definitely not mine.

I have no one. Literally no one around. 

Finding Dory

For some reason Arya for months now has been a big fan of Nemo and Dory without even seeing a single frame of either of the animations. She has her Finding Nemo treasure book with the characters and plays with them every day.

Come Saturday, the Moodleys plan is to watch a movie together (symulatig cinema with popcorn and large Coke) while Arya sleeps. Yesterday afternoon while browsing Sky store we noticed there’s Finding Dory. BLOODY £5.45 it was for later and a crappy programme for us during the afternoon nap. 

In the evening after Arya’s dinner I put Arya next to me and Sanj put the movie on. 

The reaction was priceless. The first scene with little Dory and Arya’s face lit up. She covered her mouth with excitement like a celebrity on hearing her name at the announcement of the winner of the best actress Oscar Award. I have never seen this reaction before. She smiled every time little Dory was on and stayed tuned throughout the whole movie (another new thing in the world of our hummingbird). I watched all emotions coming out of this little soul. Happiness, worry, fear, surprise, excitement… 

It was amazing. It was amazing that our baby matures emotionally, connects with characters and feels for them. 

Milestone… this one’s huge.

Only Animals Lovers will Get this Post

See, Bastian is my fist baby alive.

I miscarried twice (although NHS would consider my unborn babies as insignificant foetuses) and Bastian fillled the long-hurting void. He is my first baby – he let me give him love I’ve had as a mother. I remember the day when I was with him after only a few days he had been with us and he got sick throwing up throughout the whole day – my stomach was churning, I was all in tears and scared out of my mind…

He became a man a couple of months after we moved to our first house. A lion guard, the man of the neighbourhood. People in the community speak about him as if he was the Man. But when Arya was born, very often I was being asked – “Are you not scared that your cat can hurt Arya?” Or I got warnings. ” Be careful! There are cases of cats killing newborns”.

Bastian was always cautious with my baby. When Arya was born, sleeping between me and Sanj, he slept at our feet and always so careful with his paws not to even touch her. Jealous and needing love from us but protective of her. 

Only animal lovers will understand this – Bastian is an older brother for Arya. Right now he is sleeping in her room, curled up on the carpet, guarding her. 

Don’t get me wrong if she’s bothering him, he can plonk her with his tail or scratch her (gently, never too hard – I’ve whitnessed that) as a warning. What do you expect if someone is pushing you off the chair if you cozily dozed off (that’s the only time he plonks her). Other times – he lets her have her way. Older brother, he is.

I e got two babies and I love them equally. 

Only animal lovers will get this.

Life is Not what You See

Does whatever people observe relates to us: 

• follow us like a curse or a magic spell once spoken and 

– although we realise it has been true we will never be able to turn it around because it’s inflicted upon us with the power of always powerful words

– Or, brought up in a “don’t say it or you jinx it” culture we think we are doomed and we “decide” that from now on we will be what we were “doomed ” to be, JUST TO FOLLOW

• is just a reinforcement of who we are and what happens around us happens irrespective of what they say because they just observe a fact about us

• gets imprinted in our minds and from the moment the spell was cast on we are programmed to do as it was said.

Irrespective of how many algorithms your mind create you must realise that

 life is what happens in your mind and soul it is…  
Life is not what you see and since it’s not, and I’m a very visual person and take pleasure from what I see, I therefore dream and it’s amazing…

Macabre Visions

I promise I will be back as soon as summer is over. I’ve been in too lazy mood for the past couple of months but this will have to change.

Now however I wanted to write about the topic that has been a part of my life since Arya was born – involuntary macabre visions.

Yes, everyone has heard about mother instinct and that the mind of a woman changes as soon as they become mothers but to me this was just a piece of dry information until I (FINELY, sorry but I cannot stress that enough) became a mother myself. 

Since Arya was little those horrible flashes of images hit me out of the blue, when I was walking with Arya in a buggy or leaving her for a second in her seat while turning my head to reach for something. Gruesome figments of my imagination where I saw Arya in exactly the same situation as we were at that moment and an accident or a scary incident with the most vivid details of this horror – all in the split of a second. The scenes were so horrid they were bringing chills on my skin and heart palpitating faster as if I was getting panic attacks. And each time different (because the actual situation was different) and each time as intense and lucid that it became my massive worry. I also started thinking that perhaps on some level I wanted these things happen or enjoyed them. Felt so embarrassed, scared but at the same time intrigued. I sort of knew what they were referring too, but as I always question everything about myself this was not an exception.

I once told Sanj about all this and he said in the most causal way as if I was trying to share with him that the we are married or that the rain falls from the sky: “Of course. This is mother instinct. You are a mother and you love your baby so much that your brain is constantly alerted.”

From then on I have understood it more and more and at the same I became so fascinated with it.

I always proclaimed how much animals we humans are and how amazing it is. But since Arya was born the experience of all this is so much more transcending me than ever. 

The fact that I have these gruesome thoughts is the higher level of intelligence which to us humans is still not fully explored. The fact that my mind puts the worst case scenario of the moment I am in with my baby in front of me especially when I’m completely oblivious of any possible danger around me and my baby is perfection. Not very pretty one but these signals simply keep a mother on her toes. 

Our primeval nature is more intelligent than we think and I can bet all my money that female primates have far more of such intelligent apparatuses in their minds.

If all that was only combined into one…

Quality Time with Daddy

San-Jay to Arya:

-Arya, daddy will draw you a butterfly.

The blue crayon swishing across the pink paper. Sanj is in his element.

I’m peeping. This appears in front of my eyes:


I swear to Batman, a little pee came out when I saw this. And even more when I realised, while Sanj was colouring the “butterfly” he still believed, deep in his heart, that the drawing depicted a perfect butterfly.

I wanna conclude this post with this sentence: “The world is not what it is, the world is what you think it is”.

Rollercoaster 

It’s been a rather hectic roller coaster. Lots have been happening and fast. I managed to get flu twice, Sanj became a Brit
  Arya acclimatised perfectly in her new super nursery.  
Yes, she cries here and there but it’s a type of a
cry I’m familiar with (stubborn, moaning type) so not a big deal. 
Our lives are a little bit crazy at the moment. When I work in the office I take Arya to the nursery for a full day, running fast at 16:30 to collect her and get home just to get ready for my meeting with a client, intern, collaborator or whoever is in the schedule. The days when Arya is with me are tricky as in order to do some work I rely on her sleep which doesn’t happen as often and doesn’t last as long as a few months ago. But I put the mobile devices away when she’s awake in order to spend quality time with her. 
I got a fold-up sofa for her to sleep on. It’s time for her to let her snoring and wriggling disturb no one… but am I ready? ??

Of course I’m not!
We keep defending our decisions by saying that the baby is not ready for this or that, but in reality – it’s us who have more difficulty facing the cruelty of time. So when last night, the first time we put Arya in her new bed in another bedroom, I eventually landed sleeping next to her. For no other reason than that I was missing her. I fell asleep holding her hand only to get kicks in my face next morning.
The styling business is literally rolling on adrenaline and the hits I keep getting while organising the events are incredible. They feel like punches in the face but at the same time they make me stronger. They show me how professional and how ambitious I am. Or at least I’m striving to be. They teach me a lot. But at the same time they hurt. 
Intense period. Ups and downs. More ups please!

Mothers to the Mole Hole

Becoming a mother has been the most wonderful thing that happened to me and I cherish every moment of it. However being a mother in a society is not a pleasant experience. Still. Sadly. We are in the XXI century, fighting for equal rights to every group left right and centre, you name it. But mothers are very much neglected on the social and professional map. When you say: “I’m a mum”, depending on the situation, it’s perceived as an excuse, a plead for special treatment, nuisance, hindrance, disturbance of others’ daily life.

Your baby is not allowed to many restaurants due to a very likely noise she will be producing interfering other guests. Automatically thus you are not allowed either. Unless you leave your baby outside, tied to a tree… Like a dog. Although probably your dog has more chances to get in than your baby.

And yes, of course, I agree – I can eat lunch in most pubs, labelled “family-friendly” (are the other ones “family-hostile” and they poison each member of a group composed of a tired looking man and woman pushing a noisy buggy?)

And yes, I have even managed to dine for dinners in London with Arya present, sitting everywhere except the high chair (her personal choice). Most of them were hotel restaurants though.

But I have experienced the horrible, anger raising feeling of rejection when I was informed that babies are not permitted at the premises. And it hurt. And it exasperated me. I understand crying and all this commotion but these are HARMLESS HUMANS who did nothing to deserve this banishment.

Don’t try to argue because they will put you into a straight jacket or so their look tells you that.

It’s like it’s acknowledged that yes, you gave birth, you have kids but if you’re a mum (meaning, you are no longer a singular) you have to adapt… Adapt to the world where we don’t want you. Be a mother in a mole hole. We don’t want to see it, we don’t want to speak about it, we don’t want to deal with it.

I must admit, I was one of those people who very often thought like that – motherhood, buggies and childcare issues were like a plague. Mostly because I was going through a depression related to having no children so whenever I saw them I wished they disappeared. And I’m sure everyone else has a similarly valid argument for resenting mothers. But nope. None of them are valid. Neither my depression was.

Now I’m given the experience from the other side of the mirror and I’m really thankful for that. Not only for the obvious reasons but also because it taught me again TO NOT JUDGE IF YOU HAVEN’T EXPERIENCED SOMETHING YOURSELF.

As a mother, I cannot travel easily on the tube. And yes, as every mother I have to search for positives here, so I’ve got one: “At least I build my muscles and strength”. Every time I carry the buggy up the stairs with the speed of light I hear behind me: “Oh my God, I would never be able to do this. The buggy looks so heavy”.

And I take the compliment but really am I really not allowed to the centre of London pushing the four wheels? You can count central stations with wheelchair or buggy access on the fingers of one hand. We are simply not allowed to zone 1 or 2. Stay at home mums should stay at homes. Forever. Or maybe from time to time they can meet up with other mums but somewhere baby related so another mum’s house, a playroom attached to a church, some libraries, play soft centres and maybe a few other venues.

As a mother, I have to know when to put my first baby into the nursery and to make sure it works perfectly to not hear from the boss that this settling in process is “a little bit” long and swapping working days means I need to think about how I want to work things out in future but “no pressure”.

Thank God, I’m not a single mother, but what do they do? How do they go to work and pay for the childcare through the nose. If they can’t afford it because their salary is lower than the fees, are they judged because they don’t do enough for their children? And a single mother has such a pejorative connotations. A single mother is not necessarily a promiscuous woman who had an “accident”. My mum was a single mother – my father passed away when I was 2.5 and my mum was 9 months pregnant. Thank God she had her mum living with her, but this is such a small percentage.

What do single mothers do? How do they live? These are real troopers who will never get a medal. Even posthumously. BECAUSE THEY DO NOTHING ACCORDING TO THE SOCIETY.

If you’re a stay-at-home mum, never, never NEVER say: “I’m just a mum”!

It is a job and it is hard. Not so much because of your children, but because of the society.

You couldn’t even compare yourself to Leonardo do Caprio who is a brilliant, talented actor but who never got the Oscar. Because he eventually will.

My Love has Turned 1 Earth Years While Being With Me Eternally

Last Saturday I experienced a day I had waited my lifetime.

Arya turned 1 on 11th February and last Saturday we celebrated this milestone in Poland.

Initially, there were supposed to be around 50 guests but due to various reasons 22 adults and 11 children turned out and although those who were missing were missed the afternoon could have not been more amazing.

For the event I choose The Palace in Popowo Stare in Poland. After the naming ceremony didn’t happen due to the hated by me, family politics, all my energy and effort were focused around making sure Arya Sofia’s 1st birthday was going to be the memorable experience full of love and happiness. The palace staff prepared everything according to my strict instructions and although it’s still very hard to virtually communicate in Poland in order to get the service providers work their asses off to please the customer, this time, luckily, my perseverance and pushing (again) paid off.

My stress level was high up to a very last moment, culminating when I was pushing the soft shoes into my baby’s feet with no success and me shouting with frustration: “I can’t do it! In leaving”.

Thank God for my sister who took over while I was a total melt down.

5 minutes before the scheduled birthday there was absolutely no one in the palace and I was an utter bundle of nerves, ready to hide myself in some deep deep corner to rock myself back and fort to a complete madness.

13:00 sharp and suddenly the palace spilled with guests so Sanj and I took my beautiful but sniffly Arya outside through the back gate to ride into the front court:

  
There were many moments when I was fighting tears with emotion while looking at oblivious Arya. It was the time I waited for my entire life (those who know me, understand that it literally was a lifetime waiting) and everyone claimed they enjoyed themselves.

 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

The 12 months passed like a whip lash. But time is irrelevant when your soul knows life is constant and your body needs a physical realisation of life.

It’s one of these things I say that are hard to comprehend. Because they are beyond here and now.
To Arya Sofia

Thank you my baby for coming down into this life. I could only scold you for letting me feel this darkness without for such a long time. But now that you’re with me, nothing else matters. The scar is just a representation of how much I needed you to be near me in flesh.

I don’t wish anything for your birthday. Live your life and I want to be part of it as much as you allow me to be but please don’t be upset with me for trying to always protect you and love you.

It’s not Even Middle of the Week yet It’s Been Hectic

It’s Arya’s first week in the nursery. Let’s face it – I was dreading it for a year, slightly calmed down last week when the settling in days were rather OK with Arya taking them quite well but this week – I’m all shattered, sick with stress and slightly down. 

Why do I insist on a nursery? – you ask. I can present you a handful of reasons, for example:

  • I simply lack the entertaining power to a growing toddler and she needs stimulus and other children around
  • I always believed that if one wants to have a child one must provide for them and hence I need to go back and earn dosh

OK, that’s just two but I’m sure if I spent more time thinking over it I would probably find 10 more but I have no time now (well, when do I?). These two, however are the most essential in this decision making process which has now been completed.

The nursery is just around the corner from my office and the plan is to have Arya there for three days when I go the office. The remaining two days – she stays with me for the time being.

Monday was great, considering the circumstances, which is getting up at 6am, rushing to the busy Bloomsbury area and hearing Arya’s cry behind the closing door was just a beginning of an on and off activity, which luckily I didn’t whiteness for Theresa of the day but which I could spot on Arya’s face in the photos sent by the nursery teacher.

My stomach was churning for the whole 8 solid hours, tears secretly wiped off my cheek now and then and 4pm sharp I was at the nursery door missing my baby.

 

first full day at the nursery
first full day at the nursery
  
 

   

not very happy
    

 The second morning looked pretty much like this:   

second day of nursery – the morning

 
day 3 of nursery
  

I’m constantly stressed. The teacher doesn’t help continuously saying that when Arya cries the whole day, she puts other children in distress and she [the teacher] doesn’t want that. I felt like this is not a very pleasant thing to say. As a nursery teacher she could be more supportive and speak about how we all could work on this problem rather than make me even sicker with stress. I’ve got a feeling that someone (moi) will speak up here.

Currently I’m in shreds…