It’s been two weeks and two days since my second beam of love, life and joy greeted this world and I feel myself again. My mind and my body have been recovered and I feel fulfilled. Although I do admit, I look at this peaceful tiny face and I think to myself: “This is the last time I’m holding such a tiny thing in my hands. Surely we won’t have another one. This is it. Now watch them both grow and no turning back time. So remember each cell, each gesture, like this one: each facial expression, like this one 🙂
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.
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.
I’ve got two jobs, my husband is a management consultant, our baby is in a nursery and as much as there’s only benefits of the latter I cannot digest the thought that I pay £1500 each month for this. She’s having fun there and very much enjoying the time spent with her teachers and peers but almost each day I cry over this £1500 per month.
Do you realise… DO YOU REALISE!!! that nurseries charge more than an average university for an MBA degree and yes, some mothers will jump on me saying that my child is the most important to me and money has no meaning when it comes to happiness of your child. Well, fuck it does because for this money I could get my daughter lots of things that inspire her, or, what would most of you say I could SAVE for her “real” education.
You have to be realistic about the costs. Wake up and realise that the government is f***ing you like a prostitute (what? A mother shouldn’t use a language like that? Oh oh oh let me tell you something, who are people to judge?)
Let’s see… If I pay £1500 per month she either comes out from it with a secured pension plan for me and my husband or
she knows Chinese and AT LEAST basic programming
she knows how to figure out what the next Euro millions results will be.
I cannot comprehend it – the newborns are our pension providers, mothers are some of the kegs in the economy wheel (still undervalued and underpaid but they are) and yet they fucking charge the FAMILIES for that.
W-T-F?!!! I say?
Do you know, parents, we are being ripped off, big time. FUCKING BIG TIME (and although I’m a parent I will fucking swear here, just because I’m a human. Not a woman, not a baby… but a fucking human… who has a brain, who is believed to have a brain, as opposed to women and babies).
There I had my rant.
And I’m actually considering moving out of this country – as a mother. #brexit to the win (short-term win)
And you know what – I know lots of women with babies who, with their families, decided to move out too.
Families, babies, women are not wanted here.
Hm, if most of us leave who will pay for your pensioner holiday, Britain?
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.
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 been a hard time recently. An end of an era, a transition time… Transition time is a substitute word for tears for every mother – tears of frustration, sadness, uncertainty, confusion… But after all this there’s always a smile and a sigh of relief. Until a moment of nostalgia sneaks in.
This is exactly what’s going on right now in my life.
I’m all a bundle of nerves. It’s the second week (a three day-er) of my baby girl attending a nursery and I’m so proud of her but at the same time stressing every morning I drop her off there. The “bye, bye”got a big impact on her. Such a huge impact I can’t even watch. The horseshoe on her face when she hears these two words – I can’t stand it. It made me think that, no, saying “bye bye” to her when I’m leaving is the worst idea. I will just give her a hug and say I’m coming back.
These two words “bye, bye”… Even a grown up has issues digesting them when parting with a beloved person. Why would you expect more from a toddler.
She’s been brave for the past few days but no smile on her face still kills me. And here’s the selfish thought – it’s me who leaves her there and her daddy is still the best. He comes home and plays with her.
Now I’m tasting the bitter taste of motherhood – will I ever be the one who A appreciates. Yes, call me selfish but I’m just a human.
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.
The second morning looked pretty much like this:
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…