As the babies turn 6 months, I’ve been thinking a lot about time. It’s such a weird one, we flit between wanting it to speed by so we can celebrate milestones, see certain people, look forward to events and better weather. Then when we realise how fast time passes, we beg for it to slow down, feel saddened by how quickly our lives are progressing and feeling guilty for not cherishing special moments as much as we should.

I’ve learnt from my mistakes, Mila and Iris have just turned 4 and although I'm totes looking forward to shipping them off to school full time come September, I’m also well aware that these next few months I'm not going to get back so I need to make the most of each and every day while I still have them as my ‘babies’. ​

When they were tiny I rushed EVERYTHING. I weaned them at 17 weeks because I was dying to see their reaction to solid food, then because I felt judged I told people that my health visitor told me to do it because they were prem! I always willed them to grow fast because I had brought an outfit in the next size up that they would look mega cute in, I couldn’t wait til they crawled then instantly regretted it when I had multiple head injuries and constant biting between each other because they finally realised they could reach and beat the crap out of each other.

When I look back at their first year I just remember it being a complete blur of vomit (on each other, on me, on the bed multiple times per night), crying (mostly by me) and sweating so much I resembled a overweight melting barbie doll. I kick myself now so much that I let those moments pass me by without really treasuring them enough.

This time round with Etti and Roux, I went totally the opposite end of the spectrum. I wanted time to slow down so much it made me anxious to think about the next week. I wanted to wait until they were 6 months to wean them, not because I'm the type to stick to the rule book and guidelines (clearly, cos I'm a rebel) but because I just didn't want to make that next step because that would be admitting my babies are growing up, and they’re 100% my last ever babies. I’ve cried about it, I’ve felt sick, literally full on nauseous when people would ask me when I was going to start weaning. I get a pit in the bottom of my stomach when someone asks how old they are and the realisation dawns on me that the time thats passed already has gone so fast and once that time has passed again they will be an entire year old. My little babies will be one. It’s completely devastating to me. 

Then I saw a wonderful quote on instagram stories that really resonated with me...

"This I know, you are more passionately alive when you are living in the present moment, but so often, you rush away time, wanting something to happen, waiting for something to happen. And do you know that in the waiting, you are resisting the present moment, choosing not to live - denying life?” - April Green

It made me realise that by worrying about it and willing time to slow down, I was still wasting those days feeling anxious and sad when I could have just been living in the moment. Now when the babies won’t go down for a nap because I just want a break and a cuppa with 8 biscuits, and I’m rocking them so fast my hips start to click and I feel myself getting annoyed, I've started to just stop.

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For years I've battled with my weight, been made to feel like I'm fat instead of beautiful. Now I wish I could go back to when I first thought I was 'fat'.

When you have a baby, your body changes, you house a child for 9 months- the female body is incredible, but you forget. You forget that you're creating and cooking a human and that things need to adapt to make that happen. I struggled with endometriosis for years and was told I'd never be able to give birth to a baby as my womb wasn't strong enough to hold a baby full term. I've had babies miscarry and be taken away from me due to growing in the wrong place, but I never thought I'd hate my body as much as I do now, after having the baby I've always wanted.

I have always been curvy, with a great figure really. Some of my past photos are like, 'wow, she's a babe!!' So, why can't I see that now? Why can't I accept that things change and that's ok? Pressure - pressure to be perfect! The perfect mum, the perfect mum boss, the perfect body, the perfect post baby snap back... it's ridiculous!!

I can't stand clothes shopping as all the sizes are different. Shopping before a baby was enjoyable but after? It's like trying to dress a stranger with five arms and a potato sack for a body! It's embarrassing, it's uncomfortable and it's depressing! Many a time I've cried in the changing room and felt worthless and ugly! But the size on the label really shouldn't matter! What matters is how you feel when it's on. And if you need that bigger size, so what?! One thing I'm learning is that you can go to H&M and be one size, but go to New Look and you fit something different, In Marks & Spencer I need the size with the boob space so perhaps I need the "curve" fit? Nope, it's too baggy on my waist! Many a time I've tried on all my clothes and then thrown my pjs back on and felt I was the size of the Titanic as nothing fitted properly. Especially across my chest! Yup them boobs!! The ones I always wanted and now can't stand! Funny that! I mean they are great, but there are times I'd like to wear that little thin top and can't because they would bounce around like two balls on a trampoline - and that's really not a good look!