11 Months + 14 Days

Dear Oscar

The next time I write to you, you'll be turning one!

I was asked on the weekend by a friend your Daddy was at school with how the blog was going? It caught me off guard because truth be told, I've been too busy to write for fun. Which is a real pity. I really enjoy writing for fun. 

That's lesson number one; always find time to do the things you love and if you can't find time, you make it.

So what have you been up to kiddo? 

Alot. 

We started Moms and Tots back in July and you really enjoyed going. Yes, past tense. Mamma has had to put classes on the back burner until January '15. Mamma should read lesson number one shouldn't she?

You go to Peter Rabbit for about 5hrs a day and you love it! I think it's because you're given special treatment and taken into the kitchen a lot for special biscuits and to play in the tuppaware cupboard. 

You and I went to Jo'burg last month to see Grandpa and Great Granny. You were a real trooper on both flights, except you decided to empty your bladder on floor of the airport while being changed 20 minutes before boarding. Even Dudley got caught in the cross fire. And you know what Mamma's track record is with almost missing airplanes!

You mastered your own art of crawling. It's a cross between crawling and kneewalking, we can call it crawknewalk. Well you can crawknewalk like a bullet through the house. While having dinner the other night you'd managed to crawknewalk right out of the lounge and almost made it to the front door!

That's the other thing; you love doors. You're even trying to say 'door' and the minute you see anything resembling a door opening, you make a bee-line for it. You're not trying to leave us are you? 

You're also trying to say 'car'. You've mastered Dada and Mama ages ago. You sat at the window this morning saying Daad...(long pause)...Daad while Daddy put your pram in the boot of the car. 

You love the car. You're in a proper car seat now and you sit in it like a king on a throne while you survey the countryside when we take long drives to try and get you to fall asleep. 

You're not sleeping through. Yet. We've started a new sleeping routine which saw your dummy (all 4 of them) magically vanish overnight. You went 'cold turkey' and haven't looked back, even when Mamma tried to tempt you (out of frustration) earlier this week. More on this later. It deserves an entire post dedicated to it!

You are still loving. You love to cuddle and you're almost able to hug. I've settled for the way you just dump your head on my chest as a sign of affection. You do it very gently. And when we say 'kiss-kiss' you know exactly what to do. Dudley and Owl are often on the receiving end of your 'kiss-kisses'. 

You have 9 teeth! Yes. Nine! It's alot for someone your age I'm told. And you have another one or two coming through at the moment. You love brushing them. Well, you don't brush them. I do but you love it nonetheless. 

You're still a hit with complete strangers. While at a garden centre on the weekend about 4 people commented on how cute you are! It's nice of them to say and you're always very smiley and cheerful in return which goes down a hit. 

You are strong. You are healthy. And you are kind. 

We love you very much. Even when you wake us up in the early hours of the morning. You're turning into a proper little boy whose got a little bit of Mamma's impatient streak. 

Anyway kiddo. I'm going to sign off now. You're tucked up in bed with a middle ear infection that we're trying to get sorted out before we take you back to the UK for a visit with your Aunty and Uncle in three short weeks. 

We love you. Always. And Greatly. 

Mamma and Daddy. 

PS 1+1 = 111

20 Things Oscar would say if he could talk...

1.   Yeah, yeah, yeah old lady, I know I’m CUTE. No need to stamp my cheek. That shade of lip-paint isn’t even my colour.

2.    What do you mean you’re going to put me into a tub of warm water? I just spent 9 months trying TO GET OUT OF THE TUB!

3.    So what you’re telling me is that furry creature over there with a heartbeat, whiskers and a tail is not my brother or a toy? I’m confused.

4.     Oh. You again. Yeah Yeah Yeah. Coo-chi-coo to you too. Now, can you call the human with the milk-pillows. I'm hungry.

5.     Look Mamma. I found food! It was at the bottom of my leg this whole time. OMG, I found ANOTHER one! You mean to tell me they were there THIS WHOLE TIME!

6.     Good luck reaching, your phone/iPad/Kindle/magazine. Sucks to be you right now doesn’t it? Night-night sweet dreams ZZZZzzzzz.

7.     I TOLD you I didn’t want to play airplane right now. So technically I’m not responsible for the vomit that ended up in your mouth. Serves you right.

8.     ARGGGGG MAMMA! How many times do we have to go through this! Smelling my BUM IN PUBLIC IS NOT COOL. Now cut it out!

9.     I know. I know. But I like wearing butternut on my head. It brings out the colour of my eyes.

10.  OMG! I can’t see! Oh. Wait. What was that? You were taking a photo. Again??! With the flash ON? Are you crazy?

11.  So to clarify; this thing going around-n-around-n-around is not the TV?

12.  Ya, yo what do sh’you mean sh’you cutting me off? Too shmuch shmilk? No such thing! More Shmilk!!!! Sh’please?

13. OMG MAMMA! MAMMMMMAAA!!! Where are y…there you are! Behind a pillow. You’re so funny. I thought you’d lef…OMG MAMMA MAMMA DON’T GO…oh you’re back again. I don’t like this game.

14. And then I said to the duck, if you don’t get out of my tub right now I’m going to poo in the bath. So I did.

15. Just ask me next time! Sticking your finger in my nappy is not cool. We’ve been over this. Sorry about the poo underneath your fingernail.

16. You mean to tell me what I’ve been doing on my tummy, moving backwards, getting stuck under the couch is not classified as crawling. Seriously?

17. I know. I know. I’ve got the moves like Jagger.

18.  And three, two, one. Yup, I told you I’d cry if you tried to put me down. No pick me up again. Right now!

19. If I’m happy and I know it clap my hands? What happens if I’m not happy? Will you stop singing this stupid song?

20. I know you’re really excited about my first play-date, but I thought I should warn you: I don’t feel like sharing today. Just saying. 

Orginal Article posted on Cute Baby 

 

9 Months...

Saturdays have never been the same since you arrived. And that's okay. Your Dad and I needed things to be shook up a bit. 

And you continue to do just that. 

Every Saturday, since you arrived, I've counted the weeks that you have been in our lives. You have now passed that milestone; you've been out of my tummy longer than you were in it. You were born at 38 weeks and you've been out 39. 

Nine whole months of life with Oscar. 

People say that having kids is the most rewarding and difficult job all at the same time. 

All I can say is that, yes, it's true. But it's not a job. It's a calling. 

And the only difficult part has been saying goodbye to the me - BO (Before Oscar). 

Life Before Oscar - meant weekend lie-ins. 

Getting in and out of the car in less than 30 seconds. 

Eating at a normal pace. 

Uninterrupted sleep. 

Having a glass of wine when I walked through the door after work. 

Showering with the door closed. 

Peeing with the door closed. 

Roadtrips that weren't co-ordinated around nap-times or feeding times. 

Eating in restaurants with our crowd (post 8pm). 

Not the senior citizen crowd (pre 6pm). 

Not worrying about the bowel movements of another person (you in this case).

Not worrying about the fluid intake of another person (yes, you guessed it, you). 

Not worrying about you choking on a biscuit, a piece of fruit, or a stick of vegetable. 

Not worrying about your physical or mental development or 'milestones'. 

Not worrying.  

Not knowing the words to "The Wheels on the Bus" and other songs that all seem to have the same tune (what's with that)?

But now that you are here. 

And we can't give you back. 

Nor would we want to. 

We move forward and to a new version of us. 

Life AO - means constant change, adaptation and surprises. 

You surprise us daily with how much you take in - you're a little sponge. 

You can clap. 

You can dance. 

You can sit in the bath all by yourself (but never alone for a split second). 

You laugh all the time - laughter really is the best medicine & why you're hardly sick.

You find pure joy in the simplest things - bubbles, my hiccups, playing chase with your cousins, the washing machine, my hairdryer, sitting in the shower, dried mango and your dummy. 

And the only song that calms you down when you cry is "Incy Wincy Spider". 

Go figure. 

The adaptations happen all the time. You're too big for your Maxi-Cosi now and have moved into a proper forward facing car seat (your Dad cried when you sat in it for the first time). I buy clothes that are 12-18 months because you're growing out of your normal stuff far to quickly for my liking. And I'm already starting to think about putting things out of your reach as I know you're going to start crawling in the next few weeks. 

Life as your parents might mean saying goodbye to a couple of things but it's not permanent. What is permanent is you and the love we have. I never thought it was possible to love another person as much as I adore you. I miss you when you nap. 

And yes, there are days when you cry for no reason at all or you're just in a mood, having woken up on the wrong side of your cot. And I will you to just 'get over it' forgetting that you're only little. But that's how much of an impact you've had on me - your spirit is HUGE and I feel like I've known you my entire life. 

This is the most exciting phase of your life kiddo. And definitely the most exciting phase of mine. 

I turned 36 on Tuesday. 

And I cried.

Like you do when I take the last piece of your biscuit out of fear you might choke. 

Because on my birthday I suddenly realised that as I get older I'm moving closer to the end of my chapter but you're only starting your first book.  

Nothing makes you question your mortality more than having kids. 

But I wouldn't want it any other way. 

We love you Oscar. Always. And Greatly. 

What's behind the curtain...

While dozing the other afternoon on our bed, with our little man asleep on my chest, who didn't seem to have a care in the world, I started to ponder how I'd found myself here. Not here on earth. But here. In Port Elizabeth. South Africa. When for the last 10yrs I've found myself, there. Over there, on a little island. Some call it the United Kingdom. 

For a brief moment I lived my life in reverse. And had an epiphany. 

To truly understand my "a-ha' moment you have to understand the definition of the word -  an epiphany can apply in any situation in which an enlightening realisation allows a problem or situation to be understood from a new and deeper perspective and generally follow a process of significant thought about said problem or situation. 

This is the year that I turn 36. And I can remember every significant event that has in someway altered the course of my life. The people I've met along the way. Some of whom are still in my life and others, either by choice or circumstance, are not. The job offers made and then turned down because I just knew something better wasn't too far away. 

I remember, years ago, in early 2000 to be precise, that I was put at risk of losing my job. I worked for a small company in Knysna and the Board decided to relocate the office from Knysna to East London (the one here, not there). I was given the choice; move to East London or stay and find another job. It was the hardest decision I'd ever had to make.  Me, all of 21yrs, had never had to make a decision that would alter the course of my life. If I moved, I would've undoubtedly been very unhappy and very bored. I would've known no-one. I had spent all of one evening in EL the previous year and was bored to tears. If I stayed, I would've been unemployed. 

I decided that the reason why this decision was so hard to make was because it could define/change/alter the course of my life. Path A or Path B - I had to pick one. 

My unemployed options looked better than my unhappy and very bored odds by miles. It was also around this time that I learnt to trust my gutt. 

I stayed. 

I ended up finding another job working for a very wealthy, if not senile, old man in Plettenberg Bay. One of the perks of my job was a one bed flat with the most amazing sea-view, in the heart of the village, that cost me ZAR500 per month in rent. I also became friends with Beth, who remains a dear friend to this day. By now I was 22 and thinking, stupidly, that I was going to end up a spinster with lots of cats and a collection of Mills&Boon novels. At 22. 

I never had the courage at 22 to do anything on my own. My biggest (and only) regret is that as a teenager my Aunt & Uncle wanted to take me to the USA for a three week holiday. I declined. I had a serious boyfriend. And we'd planned to go to the USA in two years time. Two years to two teenage kids, who thought they were in-love, are like dog-years to actual dogs. 

Needless to say we never went. And I was 33 when I eventually made it State side. 

If I had gone on that holiday I would've realised then that the world is actually quite small. I would've been bitten, hard, by the travel bug. I wouldn't have been so fearful about the unknown or ending up on some make-believe shelf. 

Needless to say I married the first boy who asked me. Not because I loved him but because he asked and I wasn't sure someone would ask me again. For the first time I ignored my gutt. By 24 I was married and deeply unhappy because I honestly felt that the next step would be children and I knew I wasn't ready or with the right person. I'd gotten myself into what the British like to call a 'pickle'. And I had no idea how to get out of it. 

By 27 I'd had to make another life-defining-path-choice. It took me a move overseas, nerves of steel and 3yrs to get out of that 'pickle'. 

Then everything changed. 

I finally found my voice. My confidence. My inner lion. I was no-longer afraid. And I meet the love of my life. By our third date I knew Ryan would be the man I'd end up having a family with. 

So you're probably wondering what my epiphany was all about!

I'm getting there. 

While dozing on our bed and after being so down in the dumps about being here, not there, it dawned on me that all the life-defining-path-choices I've made in my life have all culminated and formed the tiny little 8 month old boy fast asleep on my chest. 

Without going through all of that, we wouldn't have any of this. A gorgeous, healthy, happy, clever little person who is going to grow into a person who is going positively influence and change the world in some way. I think he'll be a comedian because even now he laughs in his sleep. 

Oscar is half Ryan and half me. Half our memories, our hopes and aspirations for the life we want him to have. Our choices now, like the choices our parents made while we were growing up, will definitely impact his life until he's old enough to make his own. 

So we've ended up back here. But like all the other choices we've made, we've ended up exactly where we're supposed to be right now. I've accepted this. 

"Finally" - I hear Ryan sigh. 

And we could always go back there if we wanted to. 

  

6 Months + 14 Days

Dearest Oscar,

You'll have to forgive your Mamma; your 1/2 birthday has come and gone and we can't get over the fact that you are already a 0.5yrs old.  If we'd the internet at home Mamma would've posted this 14 days ago. One day I will teach you how to count to fourteen and add on another thirty nine, because that's how many days Mamma and Daddy have been off-line, without any internet connectivity to speak of. Our signal was as absent as a chickens fart (I knew that would make you laugh). 

Now, what have you been up to since we last recorded a milestone of yours?...

You've moved countries. Much to my horror.  Your Daddy has taken being back in South Africa like a duck to water. Mamma on the other hand has taken to it like a cat to water. Not well at all. I miss my friends. I miss our little tiny flat. I miss your Aunty Kerry and Uncle Mornay and Max the Cat. You on the other hand don't seem to realise this change at all. Just like your Daddy - you are a duck.

You've started coming into your own a little more. Like your Daddy your save your laughter for things you find truly funny. I've caught you laughing at things when you thought you were alone. Your favourite funny thing is pulling on the mirror on your play gym and laughing at your own reflection.

You've started what we adults call weening. This is a very stressful phase for Mamma, because I fear you might be allergic to something (you've had eczema since you were 3 weeks old). You've pretty much gotten bored with baby rice so we've moved onto butternut. You're not sure about butternut. Prunes do the trick. Which is a good thing as you are quite often, literally, full of s**t. Sweet potatoes and apples (pureed together) make you gag. You like HIP organic baby food (Mamma fed you this out of desperation after you got bored with the butternut!). You adore gnawing on raw cucumber and carrots. You have two little bottom teeth coming through nicely. 

You've spent time, quality time, with each of your Godparents. Uncle Jimmy & Aunty Ang loved baby sitting you before we moved from London. Aunty Kerry spoils you rotten and always thinks of fun things you might need (Uncle Mornay always wants to make sure you are safe and comfortable) and Uncle Richard made a special trip from Australia to PE just to meet you last week. And he brought with him the entire Winter line from Cotton On Kids! You are a very very lucky and blessed boy. And when you struggle to sleep Mamma whispers in your ear the names of all the people who love you - it's a little like counting sheep but a lot more reaffirming and you are often out before I reach the end of a very long list. 

You pay attention more. You had Daddy and I in stitches today; with you in my arms I was explaining to Daddy where I think we could put some useful shelves above the tumble dryer underneath the stairs, you looked at me as I spoke and then to Daddy for his rebuttal - hilarious!

Today was the first warm, breathless day in weeks (certainly since we've been in our new home), so I sat you outside on the deck and let you play eye-spy on your own. You saw and noticed your first plane in flight and were amazed. The highlight were the flapping pigeons overhead. The look on your face was priceless.

You don't roll - yet. You're almost sitting unaided. And you love watching videos of yourself or looking at photographs in which you are the focal point, this seems to calm you down when you cry. Daddy hasn't cottoned on to the fact that the digital photo frame you gave him for his birthday is actually for you. You also like it when Mamma reads to you, as long as the stories are short.

Your face lights up at almost anyone who pays you attention. You've been sick twice since your arrival and both times you've handled it like a trooper. You put up with Mamma when she wants to play "Eat your Toes" and your can balance on these two things beneath your tummy (one day you'll discover that they're called 'legs'). You don't sleep through the night anymore, you choose to wake at 3 or 4am for a little bit of juice (if Daddy is on call) or water (if I am) and a nappy change - the doctor told us you need to drink at least 1,200ml a day given your current weight (8.3kg).

You are strong. You are healthy. And you are kind.

You are more than either of us imagined.

You still adore Duddley and Theodore and choose to cuddle them in equal measure when you fall asleep at night.

The days with you fly by. I love every second of every day that I get to spend with you.

We love you. Always. And greatly, Mamma and Daddy. 

PS I + I = III

Thank-You for the great pics Uncle Richard

How to administer medicine to a baby...

Let me start off by saying that if you think your child is ill, take them to a real doctor. Not a pharmacist. Not a herbalist. Not the old lady down the road who used to be a nurse and who now cultivates a really lovely herb garden. No. Take them to a proper certified, medical practitioner who has experience, preferably, with small children and/or babies. Not animals or children who might be behaving like animals. 

My reason for saying this is simple;  last Thursday I took our baby boy to a pharmacist and explained all of his symptoms and was told...wait for it...that he's teething. And with teething this can sometimes manifest as a cold. By Sunday Oscar was still not well and had actually gotten progressively worse, so I took him to the same doctor my brother saw as a baby who diagnosed bronchitis and he insisted on testing for a bug doing the rounds called RSV (Respiratory Syncytial Virus), it turns out he has this but thankfully we managed to catch it early on. 

So trust your instincts. 

The problem with children that are sick, is that they require a conveyor belt of medication. The sicker the child, the longer the conveyor belt. And while children might have opposable thumbs, they can't use them just yet, which makes self-medicating an impossible task. This means that it's our job, as parents, to administer said medication. 

Now here in lies the problem; a child, especially mine, isn't stupid, and trying to get 3ml (3ml x 2 or 3 or 4 depending on how much has been prescribed) of liquid medication past the lips of an infant is near impossible the second time around. The first time is easy! The little bugger is trusting and has no idea what's going into his mouth, he just know it's NOT milk and right now he's game for anything that is NOT milk. When the odd taste dissipates and his taste buds return to normal, he's swears blind he's never going to trust you ever again or eat anything you put in his mouth that is NOT milk. 

This is where the fun begins. 

It would be cruel to pin down your child and force feed them. The thought will cross your mind at around 3am but I urge you to move past it as quickly as possible. Just make sure your child is comfortable, lying in a semi-flat position, I found, works best. It's futile asking your partner to help as it just means the child can move his head from side to side if being held. Your partner will come in handy later on (will explain more).  

Make sure you have enough time on your hands. This will really depend on the amount of medication that needs to be given. One type = 5 to 7 minutes. 

Make sure your child has had something to eat but wait a little while for it to move through the digestive system. If you thought a red wine stain was a b***h to get out of your carpet you've not had to deal with milk, infused with red cherry cough mixture and a pink hue of Calpol. 

Have plenty of baby wipes to hand and place a bib strategically around his neck. It's best if the child isn't wearing his 'Sunday Best'. 

Now I've learnt in the space of a week that it's just plan stupid loading up a teaspoon with the medication and trying to get it past Oscar sealed lips. It's not going to work.

A syringe works best. Stock up on these, and as long as you clean / sterilise them they can be used for the duration of your child's illness and discard them once they're better. 

Do not fill the syringe with the entire dose. Work with 1ml at a time because you can get more velocity on 1ml than you can on 3ml without causing your child to gag. 

Do not let your child see the syringe. Again, they're not stupid, even at 5 months and 8 days old, Oscar has clocked what a syringe IS and what it is used FOR. 

With your syringe loaded, your bibed-up darling in a semi-flat position and baby wipes strategically placed nearby, come out of no-where and surprise your child!!! Don't scare them as this will have an adverse reaction. You wanna make him/her laugh, preferably opened mouthed. This is when you pounce, and before they've even realised what has happened you have managed to get the syringe in the back of the mouth against his cheek and emptied 1ml of yucky tasting syrup. 

And repeat 6 or 7 or 8 or how ever many times you have to. 

This is when a partner does come in handy as you can take it in turns; one of you can be the pouncer (the person with the syringe) and the other can be the pouncee (the person delivering the opened mouthed surprised reaction). It's also handy having a favourite toy nearby so that you can alternate and keep the game going for as long a medically needed. Props come in handy too - I've got a pair of Easter Bunny ears that have been a life saver!

Lots of praise and cuddles are needed afterwards because it is slightly traumatic for you both. It would be a good idea to give your little one a cuddle too although he's not had to do ANY of the work!

Remember that at the end of the day, laughter really is the best medicine so make sure your little one get's plenty of that. So is fresh-air and sunshine, so hit the streets and go for long walks. And remember to seek professional advice from a medically trained professional - I can't stress this enough!

Good Luck. And may the force of the syringe be with you. 

Oscar's medicine - I must point out that to the left is what the pharmacist gave him and to the right is the real MacCoy. Antibiotics are needed to treat any respiratory virus. 

Our little patient this morning - definitely on the mend. Try getting a teaspoon past those lips!

What is means to be a mother...

So it was Mothering Sunday in the UK yesterday, unfortunately Ryan didn't take the bait when I asked him four days ago which Mothers Day we should celebrate, thinking I might be able to score two separate gifts when it rolls around here in May. 

I'm new at this whole motherhood gig. And I think like a lot of mothers out there, I'm making it up as I go along (and I don't mind admitting that either). When I was pregnant I was filled with angst that I might not actually be any good at it.  It's not like this role comes with a manual or instructions and I don't have an annual review or anything (or God help me a mid-year review to check-in and see I'm on track and handling the "pace"). 

One thing is for sure, hands down, no word of a lie; being a Mom is by far the most rewarding, challenging and fulfilling role I've ever had. It surpasses being a wife, a sister, a daughter and a friend by miles. Don't get me wrong, I love being all those things to but when I was little the only thing I ever wanted to be was a Mom. I didn't want to be a vet, or a teacher, or a doctor (for a brief period I wanted to be a Cabbage Patch kid but that never really stuck). I would daydream about having a little boy and calling him Todd ('Santa Barbara' was a very popular soapie back in my day and Todd was one of the main characters who was involved with a very young Robbin Wright long before she married a Penn). 

I didn't become a Mom when Oscar was born, it all began when I found out I was pregnant. And so did the guilt that I was already a bad one when I'd have a cheeky glass of wine or a hot bath. During my pregnancy I'd daydream again about what our child might be like (thankfully Ryan vetoed the name Todd) and Oscar has completely surpassed all of my expectations. He is already a little character of his own making. He's in a predictable routine. He loves people and started 'talking' when he was around two and half months old. Like me, he gets frustrated easily but thankfully he's more like his Dad and perseveres through his daily arduous 'tummy-time' routine. He has different cries which we are now fluent in translating. He loves seeing faces he knows in photos - thank heavens for small portable smartphones with galleries that can hold thousands of these little suckers! 

Oscar loves tress, having had his first proper sighting on Leisure Isle some weeks ago. The bigger the better. He will stare, open mouthed, at these tall unusual green things for ages. He loves the wind blowing in his face. The stronger the better. And he knows the difference between my hairdryer and the real McCoy. 

Oscar dislikes drinking water unless it's from a syringe because this means it turns into a bit of game. And out of all of the toys, stuffed animals and interesting things he has to play with, he prefers sucking on his burping towel and cuddling up to it as he sleeps. He still gets a fright when either one us sneezes. And he's not sure about whether it's a good idea to laugh out loud or not because every single time he's tried he's ended up with the hiccups.  Oscar finds fishes and lava lamps fascinating (I must point out that these two items where not found together, as one would expect, in the basement office of a seedy nightclub set of some bad-taste-made-for-tv-Mafia-oso movie). 

Oscar understands what "it's all gone" means when he finishes his bottle but still decides to throw a fit because he just loves milk that much but never does this in public (which I'm eternally grateful for!). He loves bath-time and is still undecided about mid-morning nap times because sometimes they're great and sometimes they're not. He's still in-love with his reflection in the mirror on his play gym and will talk himself to sleep. And when he can't sleep because he's had a busy day, he prefers to be put on his side and have his back gently rubbed. 

Being a Mom means you get to know all these little things about your child. And each child is so unique and different. One thing I have learnt is that the things Oscar might like today and tomorrow, he might hate all together by the time a new week roles around. That's how fast they change. 

My best times of the day are in the evenings when I can watch him sleep, in the mornings when he wakes up and is so excited to see us he wriggles his whole body and every single moment in between. 

And I won't know if I've done a good job or aced any annual reviews until Oscar is bigger and has grown into a well adjusted, kind, thoughtful adult who contributes in some sort of positive way to this world we live in. And when I watch him sleep I think about what he might end up being one-day and like all mothers, I know that as long as he's happy, not living on the street and eating out of a dustbin then he'll be fine. 

But I want him to have a remarkable life all the same.

I don't love being a mother. I love being Oscar's mother. There is a difference. And any other mother will know exactly what I mean. 

PS: Oscar is definitely his fathers child to, he has a distinctive 'type' and prefers to save all the charm and gummy-smiles for pretty, leggy attractive types.