{"id":2302,"date":"2015-05-30T09:37:21","date_gmt":"2015-05-30T08:37:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/motherstories.co.uk\/?p=2302"},"modified":"2015-05-30T09:37:21","modified_gmt":"2015-05-30T08:37:21","slug":"poo","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/2015\/05\/30\/poo\/","title":{"rendered":"Poo"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>8.42am<\/p>\n<p>Motherhood does not always feel like shit brown or<em> poo\u00a0brown,\u00a0<\/em>as I politely referred to it the other day much to the hilarity of Naoise when my mum was visiting. There is nothing more pleasing than a child with an infectious laugh, I was ordered to repeat the joke three times over.<\/p>\n<p>Patrick is sleeping in the attic bedroom with Naoise, although its the smallest room in the house, a bed and a bookcase fits under the roof eaves and a wardrobe that was constructed in the room itself provides storage, It is a squash and a squeeze. Here though you probably get the best nights sleep, because it is at the back of the house you don&#8217;t hear the noise of the cars passing on the main road, just the sound of the river flowing at the back.<\/p>\n<p>Cars zoom past. Today is a spring day, its warm and the sun is shining. I put on a thermal vest and a light silk top, I am still in the North of England where \u00a0you have to cover all weather eventualities.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>A cough. Its Patrick. Phew.<\/p>\n<p>All this creeping and getting up early to try and write in-between the caring. The buzzer on the oven sounds telling me that my allowed fifteen minutes of reflective time is up&#8230;.I will give myself another five.<\/p>\n<p>Patrick comes downstairs and tells me he is going to nip to the shop to buy toilet roll and toothpaste and coffee&#8230;&#8230;<\/p>\n<p>I sometimes wonder if all this mothering isn&#8217;t particularly healthy for me, I really do struggle, especially when I have to look after the children full-time. Looking after the children pulls me towards the bottle of wine and the chocolate treats, it pulls me towards the food of comfort.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Oracle_bone\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Oracle bones<\/a>\u00a0&#8230;..if I had an oracle bone, what would it look like, what future would it tell in-between the cracks ? Did I ever imagine this, me with two boys fathered by two different men, me as a mother? I think I did imagine mothering but I don&#8217;t think I got further than what a baby in my belly would feel like, how could I imagine this?<\/p>\n<p>Syd returns this morning, I will catch just a couple of hours with him before getting on the train to London of my mothers conference retreat.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>8.42am Motherhood does not always feel like shit brown or poo\u00a0brown,\u00a0as I politely referred to it the other day much to the hilarity of Naoise when my mum was visiting. There is nothing more pleasing than a child with an infectious laugh, I was ordered to repeat the joke three times over. Patrick is sleeping &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/2015\/05\/30\/poo\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Poo<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":2306,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2302","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2302"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2302"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2302\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2302"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2302"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2302"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}