Welcome to my world

Hello and welcome!
Let me introduce myself and my madness to you. I'm 28 years old and a mother to a gorgeous, if slightly mental, 13 month old son (It must run in the genes).
His name is Joseph. He likes to bum shuffle about at high speed, eat cheese and sing that blasted McDonald's theme tune (you know the one!). He seems to have more of a preference for his daddy at the moment than for mammy. I put that down to the fact that in the last week the wee mite has discovered he is the proud of owner of a winky. He has also realised that daddy has one. Mammy, however, has not so she is not allowed in their club.

All that aside, I'll tell you a little about me and my parenting style. After about two years of feeling broody myself and hubby decided to try for a baby; not for one second actually realising what this would entail in terms of sleepless nights, stitches and emotional upheaval.

We were lucky. We hit gold on our third month of TTC. Sadly I don't think I realised just when that pink line came up (ironic really that it was a pink line, considering I was having a boy), just how mental pregnancy hormones would make me.

By the time I reached 5 months pregnant I was a basket case. I can laugh when I look back at it now, but it was a very scary time. I felt out of control, and anyone who knows me will tell you that isn't all that good for a control freak like me!

I became obsessed with wanting a daughter. I think I knew I was having a boy, but this didn't curb my obsession any. I remember my sister buying me some dummies when I was around 10 weeks pregnant and one of them was blue. I knew then, by this omen, I was having a boy...and I spent many a night crying about it.

When we reached the infamous 23 week scan, and they couldn't tell the sex of my baby; I cried. I screamed and wailed and was so inconsolable that hubby and I had a huge fight and I was left to walk through the pouring rain the mile or so so home; crying all the time.

Hubby couldn't understand why I wasn't just happy our baby was healthy. Looking back on it now, nor can I. Needless to say the next day I was marched to my local GP who held my hand as a I sobbed and then gave me some very lovely happy pills to stabilise my mood.

I cannot explain how it felt to have her understand what I was going through. She didn't judge me, she just helped.

Nine weeks later, by the time we reached 32 weeks and another scan, I had stabilised enough to be delighted to find out I was having a son. I spent the journey into town afterwards telling everyone who would listen that the doctor had seen a scrotum (probably the most horrible word in the English language).

When my son was born, I was delighted to have him here safe and healthy. Yes, I still get a pang walking through Next and looking at the pink clothes and stripey tights send me all gooey...but as far as I'm concerned now boys rule and girls drool.

If that minor insight into my insanity has you intrigued...keep reading!