Heads up it might be a soppy post, but about something a bit different. Tonight when Henry left for work the children and I had an early tea before wrapping up warm and venturing down into town. Yes Christmas has officially arrived in our little town and tonight we watched the lights being switched on. It wasn’t a big fancy thing and I don’t think it was a celebrity who pressed the button (apologies if it was!). But Polly loved it. I loved it.

We are incredibly lucky to live somewhere that we love. Somewhere that we chose. Somewhere that makes us excited for our future. I know it’s not a place for everyone, but it is our home and we love it.

It was many years ago that Henry and I first started dating but I do remember in one of those first conversations he told me that he would one day move back to Devon- his home. So I told him to take me too. I had no idea then that Devon would very quickly become my home too as I fell in love all over again.

Since moving down to the south west we have had 4 different homes in 3 different places. The first was a terrible little flat that helped get us down here. The second was a house that saved us from the terrible little flat. The third was something a bit different in an out of the way village with only single track roads in or out. The fourth is our current little palace- a home to raise a family in, in the heart of a perfect seaside town. They’ve all given us something (the flat maybe gave us more stress than joy but it did give us our first set of keys to call our own) and we’ve made each one ours. This current one (although not the prettiest) has given us the most as it’s where I think we’ve grown the most- literally and figuratively. And I can’t wait for another Christmas in this house.

We have so much on our doorstop and the way of life suits us perfectly. I love that I can walk out my door and bump into several people for a chat. I love that (most) people say hello, good morning, just anything at all when you pass them in the Byes (the riverside park right near us). I love that the beach is a 10 minute walk away. I love that there are so many independent shops and businesses who all work together to support the town. I love that it’s one of those towns where everyone knows everyone. I love that I can entertain us all throughout the week without even having to drive anywhere as there are so many activities and groups for us to visit. I love that if we do want to go for a big day out we don’t even have to drive very far, I mean the south west is one of the top tourist destinations in the country for a reason!

So it is a bit of a soppy one tonight as I get all sentimental about this awesome town that we call home and the whole of the south west which is the place that I do and will forever call home.

Well I’m officially back at work. This time last week I was a tad bit emotional setting my alarm for the first time in 7 months but hey, we all survived the first week. I’m back doing the same shifts as before- 2 day shifts and 2 evening shifts to mix it up a bit. It was strange to go back and it’s definitely been a tiring week but it wasn’t as awful as we expected it to be. The main worry was (and still is as we suspect this to be a big case of lulling us into a false sense of security!)- Seb. He still won’t take a bottle after 2 months of us trying, nor the sippy cup for anything but water. The good thing is he’s taken to weaning like a duck to water and as yet hasn’t turned anything down. So at least he won’t starve while I’m away.

Henry has also coped better than I thought he would- it’s ok I did tell him that I was pleasantly surprised. In fact he’s even made me look a bit redundant by doing things like cleaning the kitchen and keeping up with the washing up instead of one huge attack at it after watching The Chase. He’s also keeping me updated on how well it’s going with snaps of the day.

Polly of course has taken most of this new change in her stride. Apart from Monday morning when she pleaded “mummy stay, no work” while I got dressed to leave- cue more tears from me! But all in all she’s been pretty amazing and seems to have had a massive ‘I’m really turning into a big girl’ growth spurt this week. We had her 2 year wellness check on Tuesday where she got a big thumbs up and this week she’s mastered singing nursery rhymes in a way that we can clock which ones she’s singing! Her favourite seems to be old McDonald where she requests animals ranging from a chicken to a green tractor to a man. We’ve still not decided what noise ‘man’ makes so for the moment it’s just ‘hello’ in various funny voices.

With the return to work which includes us doing the children swap when we work back to back shifts we finally got our hands on a double buggy. This of course wasn’t straight forward- when is our life ever straight forward! The first one we bought wouldn’t fit through the front door. Yup even after our measuring we still wound up with the hilarious situation where I was stuck in our porch with a buggy that wasn’t going in or out while Polly cried because I wouldn’t let her sit in it and Henry stood laughing his head off. The second attempt failed too when the seller dicked us about so finally on Tuesday Henry picked up our new wheels. I still can’t steer it very well but at least Polly had fun with the accessories.

Finally I’ll finish with a parenting fail confession that I almost didn’t include as it really is a massive fail that I know some judgy shit will tut at me for but after chatting to other parents I realise we’ve all done something on this level. The last ride in the single pushchair was a bit of a memorable one for Polly at least. We left the house Tuesday afternoon for a play date, the cookies in the trusted hands of the toddler (only trusted as she hasn’t figured out how to open them yet). I dropped the buggy off the curb outside our front door to look down and see my child on her hands and knees in the road- still holding the cookies of course! I guess the tiredness from back to work kicked in and I’d forgotten to strap her in. She was of course absolutely fine, just a little surprised. I, of course looked like a terrible mum as cars then appeared from both sides as I frantically scooped her up and retreated back to the pavement dragging the buggy too. After several kisses and the promise of a cookie when we got to our friends we set off again with me hanging my head in shame. Later that night I confessed my sin to Henry who then admitted that he too had accidentally tipped her out a few months ago when he forgot to strap her in too!

Well I’m checking out now as I really should attempt an early night as the alarm is all set again for tomorrow and I don’t really want another toddler tipping incident again due to lack of sleep.

Breasts. Boobs. Tits. Bangers. Hooters. Jugs. Knockers. They have many names but they have one purpose. And no it’s not to give some bloke named Terry a smile as he reads a certain newspaper over his breakfast sarnie. They were put on this planet and more importantly our bodies to feed babies. So what has gone so horribly wrong?

If someone is drinking wine in a pub no one tells them off. If someone sits down on a park bench to smoke no one tells them off. If someone sits on a train eating a bar of chocolate no one tells them off. Yet if a mother sits in any of these places and feeds her baby there’s always someone ready to judge. Not everyone does but even if one person looks at this as something to be judged then society still has a long way to go. How have we got to the stage where smoking in public is more acceptable than breastfeeding?

It’s hard enough being a parent but for mums to actually be worried about feeding their baby due to someone else’s ignorance for god forbid a bit of boob be on show! I mean a man can walk down the high street parading his useless nipples for anyone to see yet if a mum lets a tiny bit of boob skin be seen or even worse an actual useful nipple then the whole world might collapse. I mean think of all those men who wouldn’t be able to go about their life with such a distraction. Think of all those people who might find out that breasts serve another purpose than selling beer. We now have a society that would rather see a woman stumbling out of a nightclub with her boobs half out than a mother feeding her baby while eating a bit of cake. And don’t even get me started on the fact that a bikini picture is still more acceptable on Instagram than a breastfeeding shot.

I don’t care if people are getting fed up of us banging on about breastfeeding because you know what? It needs more respect. Breastfeeding is tough. It takes time, effort, actual blood, sweat and tears (and plenty of chocolate). But it’s also so rewarding. It’s something we should be proud of. Something that should be celebrated. Something so natural the equipment comes ready installed on our bodies.

I hope this didn’t come across as too much of a rant- maybe just a little bit! But I guess I thought that maybe I do want to shout it from the rooftops that I’m proud to still be feeding Seb and to give all my fellow breastfeeders a shout out! Go Team Boob!