If you flick of your mouse downwards you are going to see a series of photos depicting a seemingly idyllic mummy and daughter baking session. This was on my mental to do list under Pledge 2 (to do as many Euna focused activities as possible) in my 5 Pre-Baby Pledges. You could be led to imagine we shared some lovely girl time. That we laughed, that we learnt a little about each other, that she experienced some great sensory play and maybe she picked up a new word along the way.
This depiction is lies. ALL LIES.
What really happened? Well, first she wouldn't stay stood on the chair I got out. So I sat her on the side and she instantly pulled over a whole bottle of olive oil which smashed and ruined an outfit. The whole fiasco took me 20 minutes to clear up and I had to do it to the theme tune of her screaming to me from the highchair which I had to strap her into because she kept coming near the broken glass. When we finally got started she wasn't really very interested in any of the textural, sensory play I tried to sell to her... And I gave her my best ooo-s and ahhh-s about how sooooft the flour was and how squuuuuidgey the bananas were. Underwhelming, but it's not too bad because I've almost got my breath back from cleaning the olive oil up. Then we get out the cupcake cases and she's obsessed. In and out of the tray they go... great! Yes Euna! Nooowwww you're in to it! In and out they go! Yey! What a fun shape sorting game. In and out... Can Mummy help? She's screams. No? Ok. 10 minutes later... Ok let's put the mixture in. She picks up the first filled case and hurls it across the kitchen, more cleaning, fine. Second case filled and I intervene a second hurling. She screams at me and kicks the tray. Give me strength, I'm tired now. I try to fill the remaining cases and she lurches for the whole tray to throw. I catch it, so she throws herself back and I put a hand out to save her head. I'm running out of hands so for safety's sake I put her gently on the floor. I bring the filled tray down to her and bring her towards, though obviously a safe distance from, the oven to show her the tray going in to bake.
That's it, the cupcake-case-shape-sorty-game has gone, all bets are off. Tantrum. She throws herself on the floor and screams bloody murder. For 20 minutes. I feel sick with heartburn from bending down trying to calm her. I tried, I'm tired and mid-Euna-tantrum I have a 3 minute pregnancy hormone induced meltdown of my own and cry too.
With hindsight, tea, my sense of humour returned and a romantic view to make this into a blog post (mainly because the pictures are pretty) I decide... It's ok that this was a bit shit. Better infact. I like a good story, I'm especially good at laughing at myself in them and there's no story in "we baked and had a great time".
I'm going to need to be more comfortable here in the realms of "that wasn't perfect but I'm ok with it". Two babies is going to mean more of these stories. Two babies is going to mean a lot of bad baking escapades, kitchen floor melt downs and olive oil slicks. I'm trying to prepare myself to be ok with that. Living just a little underneath that "on top of it" feeling. I know I'll need to accept that whatever domestic checklist I have running in my head or new Huff Post Parents inspired parenting approach I want to devote myself to... I might not be able to do everything I want to do all of the time. And that's ok. That's great infact, because maybe that's what happens when you have a whole lot of wonderful places to be putting your time and love...?
I'm a big believer that our expectations can play a huge part in determining where our stories go... And if not where they go then certainly how it feels to ride them out. So here the nesting goes deeper than the handmade nursery bunting and size ordered wardrobe of baby clothes. I'm nesting inside too. Preparing. Settling.