Mothers Day- What it means to me

Mothers Day has come and gone and now I want to share with you all what it means to me.

Before I became a mother I used to think Mothers day was a day we show our mothers that we love and appreciate them. Of course it is, thats was the whole point right?

When I was a child I used to buy my mum a card, chocolates, or a little gift and we would usually go out for lunch or dinner. We (my sisters and I) would all be on our best behaviour and try to make the day as easy as possible for our mum.

Even as an adult I used to do very similar things, the wine, chocolate, card etc. But I would add in a little something else, just to really try to show my mum I loved her.

However now I am a mother; Now I have been through childbirth, I have felt the backache, hip ache, sleepless nights, breastfeeding pain.

I have listened to the hours of screaming that is colic, I have rocked my baby for literally hours to get him to sleep. I have been up all night with a sick baby, I have been shit on, peed on, puked on. I have had my hair pulled, my face slapped, pinched, punched, climbed on.

I am now a mother and only is it now I truly realise and am able to appreciate just how much my mum has done for me. Not even close actually, I have only been a mother for such a short time in comparison to my mum. She’s had to deal with me for 24 years, I do not envy her right now.

My mum has been through hell and back, and thats just because of me. Then add what my sisters put her through and you’d be amazed at how amazing she still looks.

Mothers Day isn’t about the presents, its not about the lunch out. Its not about who bought what or who spends what.

Its about feeling like the shit we do, day in, day out is appreciated it. Its a day where we are made to feel noticed, a day to feel like all of the small things we do everyday to keep the household/family going is noticed and appreciated.

When the children are babies its about our partners taking note and appreciating what we do all day everyday and for them to show us what we do is noticed and not just taken for granted.

Obviously as the children grow up they can start to show us themselves but when they are small I do see it as the fathers job to show us mothers that we are more than deserving of thanks and love.

I am actually writing this post a week before Mothers Day and I am very hopeful that I will be shown that I am appreciated. Hopefully with a glass of wine and a bubble bath and an hour or two alone to soak and read my book.

My first Mothers Day is so important to me because its the first day to be shown that I am appreciated by my partner for everything I have been through and or done to bring his child into this world and then raise him into the little monster that he is today.

I could write a list of things I would love to get given on mothers day but in all honesty all I really want is something sentimental and thoughtful. I want to know that a lot of effort and time went into it and it wasn’t just a ‘that’ll do’ type of thing from the local shops.

I don’t care about how much money is spent, to me its not about the money. Something as simple as a hand print in a card; the time that would be spent on this is what would matter to me.

I hope you all had a wonderful Mothers Day, and I hope you all took the time to call or see your mothers and told them you loved them.


Bare Faced

If you read my most recent post (Thank you) you’ll know I had to go two weeks with no make up at all.

For me this is a huge deal because I have never left the house with a bare face since I was about 13. I have always had mascara on at least.

But after my eye surgery I had to refrain from all make up so I didn’t get an infection.

It was terrifying the first three days if I’m honest, I had a yellowish bruise on my eye and it was still severely swollen and puffy so to me it looked horrendous. But after day three I started to gain a little bit of confidence back.

After a week I was loving life. Getting ready in the morning was a million times quicker and easier. Getting ready for bed was also quicker and easier.

My skin cleared up significantly, my dry skin cleared up a lot too.

I was able to just brush my hair, teeth and wash my face and I was ready for the day ahead. It was liberating too, to not have to worry if my eyebrows were matching, or if my eyeliner wings matched.

I also learned to like my naked face, by the end of the two weeks I wasn’t mortified at the thought of people seeing me without any makeup on. I didn’t care if I bumped into people in town or in the supermarkets, whereas before I couldn’t even nip to sainsburys without putting under eye concealer and mascara on.

So even though I am able to wear makeup every day now I have decided I will still go make up free if and when I want too without hesitation or worry. I want to continue to like my naked face and to embrace my natural look as much as I can.

But I am still a bit of a girly girl when it comes to make up and I do enjoy putting it on so I will still also make an effort to do my make up whenever I want.

Basically I am going to do what makes me happy without worrying about anyone else opinion of me or the way I look.




Eye Surgery

So you may or may not know but I recently had a very large cyst on my lower eyelid. Jaxon punched me in the face when he was only four months old and gave me a huge black eye.

After the black eye went down and the swelling had all but disappeared there was still this lump on my eyelid and I knew right away that it was a cyst, I unfortunately have had one before. I knew that I had to try hot compresses to try to relieve the swelling and encourage it to drain naturally.

Well it didn’t, and not only did nothing I do work but it also grew in size. It was now huge and ugly and it knocked my confidence massively. I felt like the disfigured character from the Gooneys. I now hated my face, every morning getting ready I had to fight back tears as I tried to do my make up and make myself feel slightly better about my face. It never worked and I was left feeling so upset.

Although I had everyone telling me it wasn’t noticeable and that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was, to me it was hideous.

But I finally got my referral and then got my surgery booked to have it removed/ drained.

To say I was excited would be an understatement. I didn’t care that the surgery was a day before my birthday or that I wouldn’t be able to wear make up for two weeks. I was so excited to finally have this disgusting lump removed that none of that bothered me at all!

The day of the surgery I had to get up to the hospital for 8am. Which before I had Jaxon would have been a piece of piss. But trying to get out of the house before 7am with a nine month old was bloody difficult. I still had to give Jax his medication which meant giving him his breakfast and of course the one day I needed him to wake up early was the one day he decided it would be a great day to have lay in. So I had to wake the poor baby up and he was not overly impressed about it either.

But we made it out bang on time and we arrived at the hospital with fifteen minutes to spare!

Luckily when the nurses saw I had a baby with me and that I breastfeed which is why I couldn’t have left Jaxon at home they told me that they would make sure I was seen first so we didn’t have to wait around the hospital all day. Honestly I can’t explain how grateful I am that they did this for me, I know everyone slates the NHS but they have been good to me more than I can explain and not just for my eye surgery.

The procedure itself was grim. There is no other way to explain it.

  1. I was awake and saw the whole thing.
  2. It was sharp pointy tools coming towards my face.

First they put eye drops in both of my eyes to numb them so when the iodine went in it wouldn’t hurt, this part was fine. I used to wear contact lenses to this really wasn’t a big deal to me at all.

When I went into the operating theatre I started to freak out slightly, I was very aware of how awake I was going to be and how I was going to watch the entire thing.

But once I was laid onto the bed and my head strapped down, YUP they strapped my freaking head down. I tried to think of happy things, I tried to convince myself I was at a day spa having a facial and ten minutes away from motherhood. I failed massively.

After they had strapped my head down they then put a clamp on my eyelid to keep it open. Imagine that, having your eye forcefully kept open.

The first thing the doctor asked for was of course the scalpel. AHHHH.

I saw the bloody thing come towards my eye, and yes it was just as horrifying as you can imagine.

Once the cut had been made he used what can only be described as the worlds smallest ice cream scooper to scoop the shit out of my eye. GRIM.

He then decided that he needed SCISSORS. Yes, bloody scissors near my damn eye.

Once that fun stuff was over he told me he had to cauterise the area in my eye. All I heard next was the sizzle of my burning skin each time he did it.

But then we were done, oh wait no. After that he took a cotton bud and dragged out the nice, big, thick, bloody goop from my eye.  Slapped on the worlds biggest eyepatch and sent me home.

I was told to leave the eyepatch on until the following morning. YEAH NO. It was bloody uncomfortable and started to cause pressure headaches so I left it 12 hours and then took it off right before going to bed.

My eye was so puffy the next day it looked like I had been punched in the face all over again. But just over two weeks later and the swelling is almost completely gone and I am finally happy with my eyes again! Putting make up on it fun again and I might even treat myself to some new eyeshadow pallets to celebrate! But now I have gone a solid two weeks with no make up I have also decided to embrace my naked face more often and go without make up a few times a week.

This picture was taken the day before my surgery and 6 days post op. I would never usually share this image but I thought, fuck it why not. Please excuse the horror that is my face.



Saying no to Jaxon

Now that Jaxon is 10 months old he is starting to become a very inquisitive little monster who is constantly getting himself into all kinds of mischief.

One of the hardest things I am having to do recently is telling him not to do things, or taking certain things away from him that he has somehow managed to get his tiny little hands on.

Although I know saying no or taking things away from him is for his own safety it still breaks my heart because whenever I do this he sobs and acts like I’ve just ruined his perfect little life.

Then the mum guilt hits. I start to feel guilty for trying to stop him from putting something in his mouth that doesn’t belong there or stopping him from pulling himself up on something I know is going to fall over or make him lose his balance, resulting in tears and possibly a bump. But it has to be done, and even though I know it has to be done it doesn’t make it any easier to do it.

For example; If I try to do some blogging while he is playing he then decides the only thing he wants to play with is my laptop. Obviously I am not about to let him play with my very expensive laptop just to keep him quiet. So I say ‘no’ and put it away, but that isn’t good enough for Jax and he starts to moan, that really annoying monotone, droning sound, very loudly. Its awful.

I have spoiled this child with all kinds of toys and play things. He has his own ball pit, and a huge range of other toys all laying across my living room floor but is he interested in any of them? Of course not. He wants the TV remote or my phone, or the tablet, my coffee cup, or my book, or my glasses. This child only wants the things I deem too expensive or not appropriate to let a baby play with. Resulting in a lot of temper tantrums and moaning (from both myself and Jaxon).

Recently I have found myself trying to hide in the kitchen just so I can’t take a sip of my coffee while its hot without Jaxon trying to grab my glass.



If anyone has any tips on how to get a baby to be less interested in my things and more interested in his toys I would LOVE some advice!

Tarot Card Reading- My experience

In February I went with the lovely Sam  to a card reader and we had our Tarot Cards read for us.

Now I am always very skeptical with these kinds of things if I’m honest. I don’t like the idea of someone making shit up about me and hoping to get it right all the while charging me money? I don’t like being ripped off in anyway, as I am sure no one does.

But when Sam invited me to go I thought, Why not?

The first card I picked happened to be DEATH.

Brilliant. Luckily I know that card doesn’t mean death, but it still wasn’t a great start for me personally. I would have liked something a little happier to come out first.

I can’t remember all of my cards but she did get a few things right!

She managed to know I had recently moved and my tenancy agreement made me happy, when my last one made me anxious.

She managed to know I was in a happy stable relationship (Although I’m pretty sure that was a 50/50 guess seeing as I have a nine month old).

She predicted a wedding in the future! Holy shit what could have given that away? Maybe my bloody engagement ring? So yah, this one made me laugh a tad.

She did say I won’t be having anymore children in the near future, which I’m pretty damn pleased about.

She told me that I was a very calm and level headed person but when I snap I SNAP. This is kind of right in the sense that I do manage to keep my calm in very difficult situations but I am also not a very calm person overall. There is a reason my family used to call me Angry Kassy all the damn time.

But the main thing she kept telling me was I have a very negative person in my life, and this person is causing me anxiety and unneeded stress. I should cut this toxic person out of my life. She could see a very toxic, damaging cloud around me. This is all caused by one person apparently.

I should also be asking my angels to watch over me in my sleep to stop me from having my nightmares, whether this will actually help or not I have no idea. But its worth a shot I suppose.

I am defiantly wanting to get my cards read again in the future because even though she got a lot wrong she also got a lot right so I am still really undecided on the whole thing.

Plus the tearoom made an amazing hot chocolate, so I’d be going back for some of that for sure. IMG_6499

Trying New Things!

I usually only give Jax one kind of food, Ellas Kitchen. I don’t know why, I just tend to stick to one brand that I know and trust.

Recently I decided to give Jax a jar of HiPP Organic Cocoa & Banana dessert. He LOVED it (So did Daddy), he literally ate the entire jar in one sitting after having a huge dinner.

This is a huge moment for me because Jaxon doesn’t eat very much and he also doesn’t usually like to try new things, whenever I give him something new he just pushes it around his highchair or slaps the spoon away from his face.

But after one tiny bit of the HiPP dessert he was hooked and sitting, open mouthed waiting for the next spoonful.

I am so happy he’s enjoyed something new that I have actually added some HiPP organic jars to my grocery shop in the hopes that Jaxon will start to try new things and have more variety in his diet!


If you have any other suggestions for me to try Jax on please let me know! I am so keen to try new things with him.


Black & Blue Part 2

I know I have already written a post about Pole Fitness but I thought I would give you all an update as to how its going.

Ive been to FOUR classes so far and I am still as useless as I was the first time I went. I was told I would build upper body strength and I would get better as each class went by. All I can say is I am getting better at laughing at myself!

I am about as graceful as a warthog and I’m pretty sure I look like one too.

I am trying my hardest to get to grips with it all and failing miserably, if it wasn’t for my friend going with me I would have stopped going by now. It can be really disheartening to not be able to do some of the lifts or poses, especially when so many of the other girls can do them to easily.

I’m glad I go just for fun because if this was a serious thing for me I would be really gutted at how badly I am doing at it. But its all for a bit of fun and I do have fun!


We recently got to try the SPINNING pole. Yes thats right, the fucking things spin. All I will say is its a lot scarier than you could even imagine. The smallest little swing and you’re spinning faster that you thought possible, all while trying to hold a freaking pose. It is defiantly not easy and yet the instructor makes it look flawless and graceful.

I was basically clinging to the pole for dear life, not giving two shit if I was in the correct pose or not. I was just trying to avoid going home in an ambulance if I’m honest.

Our instructor keeps talking about the next set, and how she will get us CLIMBING the pole…. um what? I can barely stay on it a mere foot off of the ground and she expects me to climb it to the top? HA!

I won’t burst her bubble just yet, I will keep letting her think I will get better at it when in reality we all know I won’t.

So there you have it, a little update in my world of pole fitness.

Learning To Say NO!

Recently I was asked to do something that I really didn’t want to do, but for some reason I have this need to please people.


Why is it that I feel guilty saying no? Or feeling like I need to come up with a reason as to why I don’t want to do things?

Why is it not enough for me to be able to just say ‘I don’t want too’?

I wish I wasn’t such a people pleaser it is such a huge source of my anxiety because when I want to say no I start to panic that I will upset or offend someone, to the point that I will end up doing something I really don’t want too just to keep the other person happy.

To some extent being a people pleaser isn’t a bad thing, it shows that I would literally do anything for my friends and family. I just wish I wasn’t put in the situation where I have to choose between upsetting someone else or upsetting myself.

I am going to try to start putting myself first, I am going to try to start saying NO.

I am going to start trying to respect my own feelings and to start valuing my time as much as I do those around me.

If you’ve found a way to break the ‘people pleaser’ habit please share how you’ve managed it, I would love some tips!


Body Image

I know I write a lot about self love and body image issues, this is a post about something that I recently realised about myself.

The other day put on an outfit that before I had a baby I would have worn without a second thought, but since having Jax I am much more aware of my mum tum and how big my thighs are still. Even though I know I have an okay figure for a mum I still struggle with it because I am still TWO sizes bigger than I used to be.

So this outfit was just a skirt and top that I thought looked really cute, But after a few selfies (For this blog post) I decided I still wasn’t brave enough and still wasn’t body confident enough to wear it out.

I felt good in this outfit but not good enough to wear it out. I was very aware of how big my thighs were and how they rubbed together when I walked. I didn’t like the thought of someone seeing my thighs rubbing together and thinking ‘she shouldn’t be wearing that’.

So I changed into one of  my ‘go to’ outfits.

I don’t know why I am more confident in jeans and a tee, but I am. I feel more invisible when I wear jeans and tee and thats how I like to feel when I’m out in public. I don’t like feeling looked at, it instantly makes me feel self conscious when I notice anyone looking at me. I never feel like I’m being looked at for good reasons but only to be judged, and again I know this is MY issue that I need to work on. I just tend to stick to my comfort zones when it comes to my clothing, I very rarely change my wardrobe choices.

However, I do want to look more girly. So I am making more of an effort to buy pretty girly clothes when I am shopping in the hopes that if I slowly transition my wardrobe I will start to step out of my comfort zone, without it causing too much anxiety.

I constantly see girls who are heavily tattooed and who wear dresses and look absolutely beautiful and yet when I put a dress on I feel like I look stupid and I don’t know why. I am constantly comparing myself to everyone else and I really wish I wouldn’t. That is why my main goal for the next year of my life is to become confident enough to wear whatever I fancy and not compare myself to others.

After all how boring would the world be if we all looked the same?

The Day My Heart Broke

If you’ve read my previous posts you’ll know I suffered the loss of my first baby, I was early on in my pregnancy but that made no difference to me. I wrote an overview of what happened but didn’t go into much detail about the day I was told I’d lost my baby.

From the minute I saw that positive test I was a mother, I was in love with the little life growing inside me and I envisioned a future for me and that beautiful baby. I started to plan our new life, I planned how I would decorate the nursery, I started thinking of names, I started looking online at travel systems and cribs. I was excited beyond belief that we had got pregnant so soon into trying, it felt like the universe was finally on my side.

Then I started bleeding. I called my midwife and told her, she told me not to worry and that its probably nothing. She was shit at calming my fears and if I’m honest I felt brushed off. I went to work, the bleeding got worse the longer I was on my feet and being a shop floor assistant it was kind of my job to be on my feet for nine hours a day. I couldn’t tell my boss because I was so early on in my pregnancy I hadn’t told my boss or anyone at work yet.

I went home after work and told Matthew, I then also texted my mum. She called me immediately and told me to call the midwife led unit at my local hospital. So I did, they were really great and told me to be on bedrest until my emergency ultrasound which was in two days time as they didn’t have any space to get me seen any earlier. So thats what I did, I called in sick to work and I laid in bed and worried for 48 hours.

I went to my ultrasound scan and there my baby was on the screen! I was further along that I thought and I got to see the tiny flicker of a heartbeat. It was beautiful, the love I felt grew each time I saw that tiny flicker.

My baby was safe.

They told me they couldn’t find a reason for the bleeding and that my cervix was closed so the baby was safe. I was told to go home and to see my GP the following day to be signed off of work for the remainder of my first trimester. So that what I did.

A few days went by and the bleeding stopped I was beyond relieved and my midwife said I no longer had to be on bedrest! So I went for a trip into town with Matthew to get out of the house for half n hour. I was in town when the bleeding started again, so we went home and I called the midwife led unit again immediately. They got me in for a scan within two days again.

I went to the scan with a heavy feeling in my chest. I knew my baby wasn’t going to be there. Everyone was telling me to be positive, to remember that my baby was a fighter, that if I had lost the baby there would have been loads of blood and extreme cramping. Which I hadn’t had either of. But I knew, I knew in my gut that I was empty inside.

Its a difficult feeling to explain.

It is literally like feeling your heart break, it was the feeling of loss engulfing me before I had even had my scan. My body knew its loss before it had been confirmed. Unless you’ve experience it you wouldn’t understand, its impossible to describe, the feeling of knowing your womb is empty when it should be growing your baby.

But I put on a brave face and I made it through the 48 hours without breaking, much.

I remember sitting in the ultrasound waiting room looking at big pregnant bellies, the proud mothers sitting there rubbing their hand over their bumps without even realising the grief that was slowly taking over my whole body.

They probably thought I was there for my 12 week scan, how were they to know I was there to find out if I had just suffered one of the most devastating losses I will ever have to endure.

When my name was called I got up and walked to the room, each step felt like I was dragging my feet through peanut butter. My legs felt heavy, like they were trying to collapse under me. I wanted to leave, I didn’t want the confirmation. I wanted to cling to the tiny bit of hope that I was wrong, that my baby was still there and I knew the minute I got on that hospital bed my world would be ripped out from under me.

I got on the bed and lifted my shirt, Matthew by my side holding my hand the entire time.

I remember looking around the very small room, I was looking anywhere but on the screen. I couldn’t bare the thought of looking up on the screen that was screwed to the wall directly in front of the bed and seeing the confirmation that I was in fact as empty as my heart felt. I looked at the clock hanging on the wall and watched the red second hand tick by second by second feeling the pressure building in my chest. I looked at the rows of folders on the selves at the side of the room, boring standard pale bule A4 folders  in labeled and placed in alphabetical order. I was literally focusing on anything other than the screen in front of me.

The nurse found my uterus within seconds, of course she did, its her job to know where to look. I remember her face as she looked at me and told me how sorry she was. She told me that I had lost my baby. After that I stopped hearing the words that were coming out of her mouth. I know she took measurements of my uterus, I was later told that it was to make sure I expelled everything and didn’t end up with an infection.

I was told I had to go back and speak to another midwife before going home, apparently it was protocol for me to be informed of everything they had seen in my ultrasound. After my notes had been typed up I was pointed in the right direction of where we needed to go to see this other midwife. I just wanted to go home, I didn’t care about anything else that needed to be said. I had just been given the worst news of my life and I wanted to run, I wanted to scream, I needed to smoke.

I think thats when I broke, I had been silently shedding tears but after being told I had to walk through the hospital to be spoken too about a possible procedure I might have needed if my miscarriage didn’t complete itself naturally; I broke down.  As if losing your baby wasn’t enough, instead of getting to go home I had to walk to the other side of the hospital with mascara running down my face, barely able to hold myself up to go and talk to someone else about how my body had failed to keep my baby safe.

Looking back now I really think this should be done either in the same room or before the ultrasound itself if they think this is a possibility because all I wanted was to get as far away from that hospital as physically possible. Not have to walk through it and then be made to wait fifteen minutes to be seen again, sitting in a waiting room with other people looking at me, obviously wondering if not knowing that my heart had just shattered.

I was made a follow up ultrasound appointment for a weeks time. They needed to be sure that everything made its way out otherwise I was at risk of an infection setting in.

So I went home to grieve. Matthew offered to drive home from the hospital but I needed to drive, I needed something to focus on to keep myself breathing. So I drove home, a journey that should have taken 25 minutes took me 10. I wasn’t aware of the speed I was going, I was only aware of the ache in my chest and my need to be as far away from that hospital as possible.

I got home and Matthew went back to work. I told him he needed to do what he needed to do, we each had to process what had happened in our own ways.

When the front door shut I managed to get all of three feet from my front door into my kitchen before collapsing on the floor in the foetal position. I still find it amazing how as an adult that is the position I go to when I feel like I can’t cope.

I think I laid in a ball on the floor sobbing until I went numb. The tears stopped pouring out of my eyes and just calmed down to a steady stream. I started to catch my breath, my mum and sister showed up at my house (They had stalked me on Find my Friends the whole way home from the hospital after I had texted my mum the news). My mum practically lifted me off of the floor and carried me outside onto my balcony, she just sat and handed me cigarette after cigarette knowing now wasn’t the time to try to convince me to not start smoking again. My little sister got me a glass of wine and a bottle of water because apparently I wasn’t allowed one without the other. I think we all sat outside for hours.

I sat there smoking, crying and asking ‘why’ all the while knowing that no one could give me that answer I so badly needed, because there wasn’t an answer as to why it happened.

I made it through the rest of the day by smoking and drinking wine until my lungs felt like they were going to collapse and my head was foggy from alcohol. I climbed into bed and cried myself to sleep while Matthew hugged me.

A week went by and it was time for my next ultrasound appointment. I know I was stupid but there was this pathetic part of me that was hoping and praying that I would get up on that table and be told ‘Oh we made a mistake, your baby is here and fine’. I know how stupid I sound, I know that was never going to happen but I couldn’t stop myself from hoping it might. I guess that was my way of trying to protect my heart from the pain of losing my baby.

I went to the hospital with Matthew by my side and I sat in the exact same chair in the exact same waiting room waiting for my name to be called so I could go and have my final ultrasound to make sure my miscarriage was ‘complete’. My name was called and we went into the exact same room as the week before and I laid on the bed as I did the last week. I didn’t bother looking at the screen because I still couldn’t handle seeing the empty space where my baby should have been.

The ultrasound was very quick, very formal. The guy was quiet the entire time and it went as well as it possibly could, I cleared the jelly off of my belly and got up off of the table. The ultrasound tech was typing up my notes and Matthew and I waited for the all clear from him that everything had done what it needed to do so we could go home and continue to grieve for our baby.

‘Your miscarriage is complete, Have a nice day’

Yup, that is what the fucking prick said to me. I have never wanted to hurt someone as much as I wanted to hurt that man. I understand that he probably became desensitised to his job but this was completely unacceptable. I was totally shocked that those words came out of his mouth and Matthew got me out of there pretty quickly so I didn’t beat his face in, which is exactly what I wanted to do.

I know I shouldn’t have had any hope going into that appointment but no matter how many times I told myself it would never happen I clung to that tiny part of hope like it was my only lifeline. So my heart was broken all over again.

If I’m honest with myself I still have not come to terms with what happened and I am still grieving. I don’t think I will ever stop grieving for my first baby. I am still learning to live with the hole in my heart.