to dog or not to dog?

my long time love, Max

I love dogs. I have always grown up with dogs, and I feel like my childhood was so enriched for it. There was always somebody to come home to, always somebody to play with. As I got older, I started to plan my little canine family. I always dreamt of having a pug. I love their squashed little faces and alien eyes. I love labradors, and wanted to rescue a couple too. If I had my way I would have about 5 dogs. Austin is a cat person, so when we got together we would bicker about what pets to get. I would Google different dogs and leave the laptop open and see if he could resist the puppy dog eyes, peering out from behind caged bars. He could.

While I was pregnant, my mum found a cat, crying in the halls of her apartment block, and after some investigation, found its owner had moved, and left the kitty behind. Although also a dog person, (and a cat hater I might add) my mum took in the homeless cat, and asked me if I wanted her, as my mum worked full time and couldn't care for her properly, and I had just finished university and had about 12 weeks before Freddie arrived. I said yes. We went to Pets at Home and got everything the cat would need. I brought her home, and had her sat on the windowsill when Austin came home from work. 'Is that a cat! OUR cat? Oh my god you got me a cat?!' He was pretty thrilled. Molly was named and settled in quickly with us. She would lie over my bump, and snuggle up to us. Creep into our bedroom first thing in the morning and fall asleep between us.

she wasn't really one for personal space...

She was a very calm, placid cat, and I wasn't worried about how she would be with Freddie at all. The night we brought him home, Molly sat on the arm of the chair, staring at him in his moses basket. Not making a move, not trying to paw him, or jump in, just staring. It made me very nervous. I never left them alone in a room together, and tried not to pull the cat away from looking at Fred, even though it meant never being able to take my eyes off her. I didn't want her to be afraid of him, or jealous. But, perhaps inevitably, having a newborn baby and taking care of a increasingly high maintenance cat was getting stressful, no matter how much attention we gave to Molly and tried to keep things as they were, she would poo everywhere, (her favourite places were Austin's socks and shoes...) and would leave puddles of wee in secret places that we would only find when we stood in it. She began to scratch us, something she had never done before, and pulled all the wallpaper off the staircase walls.The final straw came when she jumped at Fred's moses basket, while he was in it, clawed at the wicker and jumped in, I almost had a heart attack. Holding a screaming three week old baby in my arms with a crazed cat running around the house at 300 miles an hour, I began to think we might have to find Molly a new home. It wasn't her fault - she was only a kitten herself and couldn't understand why this tiny human intruder was suddenly taking over. That day, my auntie and my cousins, who are 8 and 13 came to visit me and Freddie, and they fell in love with Moll, and were playing with her and chasing her for about an hour, my younger cousin asked if she could take her home. It was such a relief to find Moll a home where we could visit her whenever we wanted, and knowing she had full roam of a bigger house with a very big garden, and attention on demand.

That whole experience put me off pets while Fred was little, it wasn't fair to take on the responsibility of any pet - we had obviously underestimated how difficult it would be to care for a kitten and a baby simultaneously.

Since we moved house though, and got a bigger garden and lots of grass space, Austin has been dropping hints. Dog hints. More specifically, greyhound dog hints. Who would have thought! Austin the cat lover now wants a dog. Although we had both agreed to think about a pet again when Freddie is old enough to understand how to respect a pet, and not to treat their tails like Sophie the Giraffe, we have both been thinking how we grew up with pets, and perhaps wanting Freddie to have that same experience. Greyhounds are known for their gentle nature, and we have been told repeatedly what brilliant pets they are to have around children.

on our recent stay in Coventry, Freddie meet my lovely friend Jane's dog, Fred.

But, after so many terrible tragedies in the news recently involving dogs and children, I am so hesitant of making that leap, and getting a dog. Before Freddie was born, it was me hounding (pun kind of intended) Austin for a dog, and him the sensible one, but being a parent changes everything, Freddie is now our ultimate priority, and we have to decide what is best for him. We would like to get a rescue dog - so many dog homes are full of pets that are unwanted when they are no longer an advantage to their owners, namely ex-racing greyhounds and Staffordshire bull terriers, older dogs and perhaps the less pretty ones. I would love to give a dog ( or two...) a new home and life with people who will love and care for them.

My heart is telling me that having a dog around would be brilliant, Freddie would always have a little friend around, we would go on long Sunday afternoon walks, the four of us. We would snuggle up on the sofa as a family of four. But my head is telling me to wait. That it is better to be safe than sorry.

What do you think? What have your experiences of dogs and children been?

five things that made me happy this week

1)  Freddie had a check up at the eye hospital on Monday (look here if you didn't catch why!) and he is doing amazing! His prescription has come down again, from +12, to +4.5 and now +2, progress the doctors didn't expect him to make until he was at least 4 or 5. He also did very well in his vision exercises, a massive improvement on last time, and doesn't need another appointment for three months. We have come so far since his operation, and he amazes me every single day.

2) On Wednesday, I was meeting my best friend Jasmin for her birthday lunch at SoLita (my absolute favourite hidden gem of a burger place in Manchester, please go if you get the chance! A magical place where you can find deep fried mac and cheese buns instead of bread buns.) I was meeting Jas at 1 o'clock, and dropped Freddie off at my mums at 10:30. This meant I 2 and a half hours free. To myself. Alone. ALONE. I haven't been entirely alone in 7 months. I had brought a book, Cosmopolitan, and went and sat in my favourite corner in Starbucks, with more than one black americano and a bacon sandwich. It was absolute bliss.

3) On Thursday, me and some of my friends had found ourselves with a couple of free days, AT THE SAME TIME. This never happens. So me and Fred, and my friends Amy and Cathy began our road trip to our friends Jane's in Coventry for the night. I was feeling quite anxious about the trip, I don't know if it was being Fred's sole carer for two whole days, or being away from home with him, but I felt quite nervous. I needn't have bothered obviously, as we had a lovely time, Fred's aunties caught up on some good cuddles, and after bed time, we retired to the living room with a bottle of red and LOTS of talking. The next day, we did a bit of shopping, learnt all about Lady Godiva and went for lunch, before heading home. It was lovely to get away from the daily routine for a bit, and catch up with some of my favourite people.

4) I think I inadvertently taught Freddie something! Whenever I have him standing on his lap, I will say 'Fred, give mummy kiss' and kiss him on the mouth. Now, when I say 'Fred, mummy kiss!' He will open his mouth and put it on mine. There is a lot of dribble and not much actual kissing but I almost cried when he first did it!

a totally unrelated image, but have you ever seen somebody look so chuffed to be in a walker?

5)  Last night, after Freddie was in bed, me and Austin cooked a carbonara (um, he cooked it while I drank a bottle of Peroni) watched Anchorman 2 and ate a load of home made lemon buns and leftover Easter egg cornflake cakes. It was lovely to spend some time together doing what we do best. Staying in and eating.

spinning plates

I would like to apologise to (both of...) my readers for this long gap in posting. Even though life has been hectic with things going on, I haven't felt inspired to write about any of it. Sometimes I'll sit down to a lovely meal, or Fred will look extra cute, or we will have gone on a day out and I'll think 'Where is my camera/iPhone?' I should be taking pictures, making notes in my phone. Although I have only been blogging for a couple of months I just didn't have the energy. It is difficult to find the line between just living life, and what I choose to share on This Charming Boy.

It didn't help that the past few weeks have been more difficult than those early, confusing, mysterious newborn weeks. Freddie has been very unlike himself, clingy, whiny, unsettled, not content with anything we do. He didn't want to eat or drink anything, or play with his toys or watch Curious George. I took him to the doctors worried that he had a bug or something, and was told that he was likely teething, or going through a growth spurt, prescribed some Calpol and told to wait it out. Wait it out we did. Falling into bed every night thinking 'This too, shall pass.' Austin would come home every day to a crying baby and a girlfriend with a pounding headache pulling her hair out.

I felt like the world's worst parent. I found myself losing patience and energy and I didn't know what to do. More than one day was spent not getting dressed, not brushing my teeth, not eating. Just lying on the sofa with Fred, stroking his head, it seemed that was all he wanted to do. I felt guilty that these days would leave me so despaired, how would I cope in a couple of years when he was running me ragged, pulling tantrums and screaming at me? If I can't handle a bit of teething and a growth spurt, how will I cope with the next 18 years?

And when I passed Freddie to his dad, or my mum, and he wouldn't make a murmur for them, gurgling and laughing on their knee, it made me want to cry. Did he hate me? Why does he only cry for me? Do I not play with him enough? Is it because I tried to get him to eat that last spoonful of fish pie?

I often feel such pressure to be a perfect mother. One who has a happy boy, spotless clothes, fed and watered and playing with his toys, with a smile for everyone. I should have a full face of make up and perfect hair, the house immaculate, with dinner on the table and a cake in the oven. Do you go to any baby groups? Do you sing to him and sign the words at the same time? Can he swim 100 lengths? Can Freddie speak fluent Thai yet? I should be able to keep up conversation with my friends, the latest television programmes/films/songs/make up/clothes. Who was wearing what and who has been where. Have you been to *insertcoolnewbar* here yet? Are you going on holiday? Any festivals? Have you read this? Can you come here? And finding time for myself, doing the things I like, reading, writing, baking, doing my nails, going for drinks with friends. When will I get to utilise my degree? How many more interviews and job applications before I can do what I have worked for the past 5 years to do? What about my relationship, when it all gets too much, we definitely hurt the ones we love.

Nobody puts this pressure on me. I know that nobody expects this, and when I don't reply to my friends texts because I have been trying to get Freddie to nap/eat, I know they understand. My mum often offers to watch Fred for the day while I have some time to myself, I usually say no. On the days Austin comes home to a clean house, clean and dressed little family, dinner on the table he is stunned. Why did you do all of this? You should have waited for me, we could have done it together.

Why do we do this to ourselves? I made myself a promise this week. To worry less, and play more. To not leave Freddie in front of the telly for 20 minutes while I mint the kitchen, but to play with him instead. To sometimes use nap times to do the things I enjoy and not peeling potatoes or hoovering. Maybe a pizza in the oven for dinner is okay. Sometimes the dishes can stay in the sink while me and Austin pull out the old blanket and watch crap telly.

If spinning plates is an art, I put down my paintbrush.