Last night I cried

Propped up by a mixture of memory foam and squishy pillows - I'm in a place that's almost unrecognisable. The room is dimly-lit, all thanks to a navy Primarni vest hugging the lamp. Soft music wavers into the air, and a rhythmic heartbeat relaxes. It beats. Beats. Beats.

I also have a man cosying into my chest on the bed. He's so relaxed he's falling asleep. It's now that I'm overcome with such wonderful thoughts. I ACTUALLY take the time to concentrate on the here and now and forget 110 other thoughts.

Me in the 70's - hats were in

You see, this is no student commune, nor is it a flashback of the 1970's where flares ruled (hallelujah) and a whiff of musty air made you high. No. This is my sister's bedroom. Well, old bedroom, as myself and my 'man' have moved in (temporarily hopefully). The soft music and heartbeat is merely Ewan the Dream Sheep, and of course, the only man cosying into my chest is my beaut of an eight-month-old.

It's 11pm and I'm dreamfeeding my boy. His eyes are closed, and he sucks on the bottle as soon as I put it towards his lip. His orange pyjamas are crumpled into me and I can't stop but stare into his innocent face. He's adorable. I'm his mum. He's mine. Forever. I'll protect him. I love him - I truly, truly love him.

Since I became pregnant I've had a lot to deal with, including becoming a lone parent. Something I hoped would never happen. My mind is clouded with thoughts such as; 'I have to do his bottles...', 'I still haven't cooked that chicken...', 'I must buy him the next size vests', 'damn, I need more formula/nappies/cotton wool...' or 'when should I get him the next level car seat?...' It's endless, and that's not even touching on the financial side and remembering to inform certain authorities and other companies with a change of address. You forget that even your Boots card needs changing! So, for once I share a moment that is empty of these 'must do' thoughts. It's beautiful.

I don't know if it's all thanks to the recent purchase of Ewan, but I am sooooo relaxed that I look at my son's smooth complexion and feel his warmth and love. He's innocent. He can be whoever he wants to be. I tell him how much I love him and how I will always be there for him. I will bring him up to be a strong, respectful and the wonderful man that I already see in him. I hold him for a while... I didn't check the time. I cry, but with a smile on my face.

Recently he's been saying 'mumma' as he crawls towards me, or happily climbs the chest of drawers. He repeats it over and over. I know it's just a matter of time before he says it 'to me' and I cannot wait.

This is a poignant post, because it's amazing how you can really feel when you shift all the crap from your mind. Last night I cried. And boy, I'm glad I did.

Good toes: Getting out into the sunshine with H down by the river - he loved eating outside, walking further than the kitchen (and yes, further thsn the conservatory... along the river. I ask ya). H seeing geese and horses for the first time.

Bad toes: Chicken burger and chips for lunch. Trifle for evening dessert. Damn.