Organising a Nursery with OCD

Last weekend, S built the nursery furniture for Beansprout whilst I got on with washing all the clothes ready to be put away.

Clothes piles

It was a mountain of a task, but we did it! Apart from the Cot, it’s practically done!

Nursery 1 Nursery 2

The washing and the building was actually the least of my worries as I was the one who was eventually going to have to organise putting all the clothes away. I knew it would take me a while and S knew it was no good trying to assist me as she knew I would have to get everything just “right”.

As you may know from previous posts, I suffer with OCD. It’s not the OCD that people jest about when their rooms are a little tidy, or the OCD that means their work is always perfect – it’s the OCD that means a simple task of putting children’s clothes away can take hours due to the fact that the organisation of it all has to be just right otherwise it’ll look untidy, and not right. If not right, the mistakes will then scream at you from a closed door like a fire alarm running out of batteries.

I am fully aware that the way I arrange the drawers and wardrobe won’t last long, and you would think this would assist in how much effort I put into organising them now, however it doesn’t. For the little time that it will stay organised I’m happy –  at least it was tidy at one time. MY brain will just accept that the baby is more important and as long as the clothes are clean then thats what will matter. I don’t know why my brain will of a sudden change but it will – I guess I’ve sold it a good argument. At the moment, however, that room has to be presentable to a standard so that if Prince George fancied popping over to play, he could – just as long as he didn’t touch anything.

So, here’s how my brain works…

I have 3 drawers available to me. In the first drawer will be accessories like socks, mittens, hats, and booties, all organised thanks to drawer dividers from IKEA. Perfect. In the second drawer I will have all the baby grows and sleep-suits (we have that many). In the third, all clothes like t-shirts, leggings, and jogging bottoms.

In the second drawer, I will have 3 categories: 0-3, 3-6, and 6-12 in one drawer. Simple. No. The trouble with the baby clothes we have is that they’re not just in categories of 0-3, 3-6, and 6-12. Thanks to H&M we have 0-3, 1-2 (H&M), 2-4 (H&M), 3-6, 4-6 (H&M), 6-9 (H&M), and 6-12 so trying to organise the clothes into piles was very difficult (for me anyway).

The 1-2 can also sit amongst the 0-3, and the 4-6 can sit amongst the 3-6. But where does the 2-4 sit? In the 0-3 or the 3-6? Brain overload. On top of this, the 0-3 pile is a huge pile and doesn’t fit as one pile in the drawers so I then have to organise the 0-3 into correct “catgegories” so that I can justify why they’re in separate piles. Thankfully, I was able to organise the 0-3 sleep-suits into 3 separate piles: White, White with pattern/logo, and colour. Simple.

The other drawers pretty much went along like the above, except that because there was less physcial clothing it went in a lot easier.

You may laugh, or think I’m crazy but I can’t help it. I don’t like being like this, it drives me mad.

I was exhausted after completing this.

First Drawer

See how the socks have even been split??

Second Drawer


It took me hours, literally hours, just because I couldn’t make my bloody head accept anything else other than what was “right”. Everything had to have a place, everything had to make sense. If it didn’t, I didn’t feel right. Sure, the room looks spotless and everything is neat and tidy but it took me a long time – time I don’t have (although in reality I did have the time as I had to make time knowing full well what I’d be like). I should have been able to fold things way, put into relatively good piles so that you can find something easily and move on. No. I had to get it into categories.

S tries so hard in making me feel better about my OCD; she tells me how amazing everything always looks after I’ve given it the once over, and how all the effort I put into everything will be a good message for beansprout and how they’ll take pride in making everything perfect, but I can’t help that it will one day it’ll actually reflect badly on beansprout. I don’t want them picking these little neurotic tendencies up and having to organise their alphabet spaghetti into alphabetical order before eating it, for example (I don’t do that, by the way). I will try hard to hide it and act “normal” but I may not be able to hide the things I don’t know I’m doing.

I know I am getting better as I’m now more tolerant when things go wrong or if something hasn’t “fit” but it’s little things at the moment – there’s no way I could have not organised the nursery drawers the way I did.

Over time I’m training myself knowing that having a baby will mean that days won’t go to plan and that pile of washing will have to wait, but it still hurts knowing I have to do this at all.

Anyone else in the same boat? How have you coped with your OCD when having a baby?


Things People Don’t Tell You… About Trying To Conceive a Gayby.

10) Sperm is minging. That is all. It also does some crazy shit with your body.

9) You will end up talking about babies regardless of what you’re currently discussing. Watching f.r.i.e.n.d.s? Yep, that little top that Emma is wearing will move onto “Awww. That looks nice” leading on to “I can’t wait to pick out clothes, etc. etc” You have a topic, I can move it onto babies in 1 move.

8) People around you will be pregnant or having babies. They will also offer advice despite not being asked for advice.

7) You will lose all boundaries with your partner. There is nothing about me that S has not seen in every shape and form.

6) You are asking a bloke to masturbate in your home (for us anyway) and (probably) your future babies room. Make sure you’re confident in discussing this with said donor so that they know where they stand. The last thing you want is for them to think the deed will be done naturally.

5) Bedroom fun may not be the same without a pillow (or two) underneath your backside.

4) Whether you’re inseminating at home or via a clinic, you will never 100% relax. You’re thinking about the process, the future and, especially, TO RELAX!!!!!

3) Cervical Mucus will become an everyday topic similar to “How was your day?”. What once was a private bodily fluid that your partner would never need to see will be analyzed, logged and written down FOREVER and referred back to over and over and over again.

2) Not all Donor’s are the same. In one session of emailing we have received back emails from Donor’s who…

  • Think it’s acceptable to post their goods to you.
  • Will only accept Natural Insemination.
  • Will not want to take the relevant tests (THESE ONES ARE A BIG NO NO. AVOID AVOID AVOID).
  • There will also be the ones who have done it before and are very professional, and those who haven’t, however will be keen to help regardless.

1) It can (and probably will) take FOREVER. We have (so far) been TTC for a few months and already we feel like it will never happen. It will get you down and you will likely worry that something is wrong but most of the time (I would always recommend you check it out if you are genuinely worried) nothing is wrong.

With all this in mind, the main thing that people don’t tell you about TTC is that you are not alone. The amount of “bloggy friends” we have found over the past few months who are all in the same boat as us was completely unexpected. I knew that there was a community out there, but I didn’t think that we would be welcomed with open arms so quickly.

I genuinely thought that it would take us a while to get replies or even a “like” and that we would be “yet another Lesbian TTC blog” but, if anything, the experience is quite the opposite.

There are still “clicks” out there, ones who only seem to reply to each other and no-one else, you will find them very quickly. However, there are 10 times more than those who are lovely people out there who will help you and guide you, despite going through the same thing as you – these are the keepers.


How will we cope?

It’s an odd question to be asking now we’ve started on this journey to parenthood, but one that is very valid.

We’ve gone through the “Can we afford to have a child?” stage, which we came to the simple conclusion of no, but can anyone really afford children. Especially as it is estimated that they cost you on average around £18,000 a year.

Today’s question only dawned on me whilst I was on a conference call to one of my suppliers. It came about in a very odd way.

I was being asked general questions about our systems and then all of a sudden the guy asked me what my role at my company was, so I explained which shocked him (its pretty extensive – & it’s just me) he then asked “Do you have children?” To which I answered not yet.

And all of a sudden I realised. How are we going to cope?
I work long hours, K works shifts.
I have to travel with my job to pretty extreme time zones. This has proved hard for K and I as a couple at times, just because we’ve not been able to see each other or talk.
My job isn’t going to become any less stressful, and the travelling is only likely to increase as our company expands.

So, How will we cope?

Actually more of, how will K cope when I’m away for weeks at a time?
How will I cope not being able to help out with the little one when away? (Guilt and I don’t go well together).
How’s my sanity going to be as I miss my family whilst it is still in its infancy?
These and so many more questions, and I guess the answer is that you just find a way. You have to.

At the end of the day, having a child isn’t easy, and it’s not like we aren’t all aware of this when we make these decisions, but by not having a child our lives wouldn’t be fulfilled.

To be honest, I can’t wait to have these things to worry about, because then my life won’t be centred around me. It’ll have so much more meaning and hopefully a reason to ignore the stresses of work at the end of the day, as it’ll give me such a rewarding outcome by focussing on my gorgeous family.


Mum – Version 1.2

I guess today, of all the days, is a good day to tell you about my up-bringing. See, today is my 2nd mums’, mum #2’s, my mums’ wife’s’ birthday! Happy Birthday, A. It’s her 31st Anniversary of being 21.

Starting at the beginning… when I was 10 my dad passed away after battling bowel cancer. My mum and dad had been married just over 21 years. They were best friends and met many moons ago in Devon.

A few months later, after much discussion, my mum, my sister and I moved down to Brighton – to start a new life. The reason why Brighton was chosen was because not only was it a regular haunt for my mum and dad, but it was a vibrant and exciting place in comparison to the Kent village we were born in. We had always visited Brighton as young kids and enjoyed the beach and sea air very much – not to mention the people, who were always so colourful.

Once we moved and were settled, many months later, my mum started dating. However, to cut a loooong story short, it wasn’t working. For she had a big announcement. She was gay – and not in the slang term that’s used today to describe something that’s rubbish – but proper gay.

The fact that my mum felt that she had to date guys to “please” us is beyond me… it’s certainly not something that we requested – but in her eyes, she thought she was doing the right thing in trying to find a father figure (my sister was/is a daddy’s girl), when really, all she was doing was making herself more and more unhappy. To put it in her own words “One day, you’re going to fly the nest. Once this happens, I don’t want to be stuck with someone I don’t particularly want to be with for the sake of giving you a father figure” (again, not that we requested it).

Now, words cannot describe how I felt that day when she came out – I was happy (that she was happy) and yet sad (as we had gotten so used to having mum all to ourselves). That said, it was mainly happiness as we were sat in McDonalds and I had just finished my 2nd cheeseburger.

It was weird (not the burger, that was good) as I, at the age of 13, had not met any gay people, let alone had one in the family! Mum stated that she had always been gay, but at the same time found love in her best friend (my dad). I guess you really can’t help who you fall in love with.

*I could go into detail about their history, but I think I’ll leave that filed in “not for the blog”.*

Anyway, I digress. Once the dust had settled and we got used to everything (I don’t really know what I mean by “everything” as my mum didn’t change at all. She didn’t start wearing new lumberjack boots or shave her head to a number 3 (she already did that!), I guess what I mean by “everything” is simply the fact that I had to get used to the house being an all woman house (awesome)) she started dating… women.

It wasn’t log before my mum found her first partner, J. They were together for a few years before she sadly died. *This is another moment in time whereby I will file this story under “not for the blog”*.

To lighten the mood after all this death, I’d like to let you know that over the years my mum gained the title “The Black Widow”. It still makes me laugh to this today. Morbid, I know, but when you’ve had so much death in your life (and within the early days of life) you have to make do and see the funny side (eventually).

Again, I digress. A few years later, my mum then met A, and a few years after that; they got married (or civil partnered if you prefer). We gained a step-brother in a dog called Charlie and A gained step-daughters in me and my sister as well as our four cats.

Now, A could not have joined the family at a worse time. My sister and I were young teenagers which meant mood-swings, tantrums and arguments every few minutes. A hadn’t had any children and had only had contact with young toddlers via her brother. A had gone from not knowing anything about children to being thrown in between two hormonally charged teenage females. She had to get used to the ten minute rule (whereby when you ask a teenager to do something they won’t do it straight away) and the fact that our lives were over pretty much all the time. To say that she coped is an understatement – not only did she do brilliantly, she survived!

I was 15 when A came into my life and although I had already gone through 15 years of my life, I don’t think I did the main growing up bit until after that time. There wasn’t much (real) life learning (apart from who had the best Pog’s to swap and who so-and-so fancied) before then and no (real) decisions were made. Having A in my life at such a crucial time in my life probably made me who I am today. Sure at the time I didn’t think so when she threw stuff at me because I hadn’t got off my arse to do the washing up after asking me three times (“I’LL DO IT IN A MINUTE!!”) but looking back now, it was great.

Sure, you could go into detail and debate about when a person really starts “growing up”, but for me it’s simple. When a person starts thinking for themselves, starts forming opinions and choices – THAT’S when you’re growing up. Yes, you’re always “growing up” and making choices about whether you like sprouts or not – but when I refer to growing up, I mean maturing and becoming your own person.

My mum was happy and we were happy. What more could you have asked for? Sure we were “different” but who isn’t?

At 25, I still enjoy stating that not only did I get to grow up in Brighton (by the sea) that others who were born here really do take for granted, but I did it in a special way that no-one else can imagine or compare to. I grew up with TWO mum’s. They both taught me and guided me and created the person I am today. The fact that A wasn’t blood made it more unique, she was able to bring her own personality into things. It was great!

Speaking with people who still ask to this day “Do you think you would have been different person growing up in a “normal” family” I quickly correct them and say “No”. For a straight family isn’t “normal” it’s just common.

Happy Birthday, A.


It begins…

It’s been just over a month now since we got married and since that day; life has been an absolute whirlwind.

The purchasing of several hundred ovulation sticks, a piss-pot, a thermometer and multi-vitamins has taken place and at the moment, I am currently waking up at 05:00 (EVERY MORNING!!) to take my temperature. This, again, is from S’s research whereby if my temperature spikes it means I am ovulating. Once a pattern is seen, I will then use the ovulation kits.

Once I know an exact time of ovulation (you would think I already know this, but unfortunately I have an odd cycle system), we can then plan for the sperm *shudders*.

With any luck, we hope to conceive early next year and start the New Year with a bang – quite literally.

At the moment, in addition to “official” research, we are also following some other wonderful blogs. Personally, I’m finding that the blogs are useful research also, not to mention words of hope, wisdom, guidance and experience! Many of the blogs are by women who have or are taking part in the same things we are or have done already (take a look at the “Who we follow” pages to find out more).

My current feeling towards the whole matter is sheer excitement. Sure, I’m scared and anxious as hell (can we really afford a baby?) but at the same time; having a little sprog – our own little sprog – will create whole new feelings that I’ve probably never felt in my life. As I said, I am excited… very very excited.

The actual day cannot come any sooner and I’m sure that my emotions will change the closer we get to actually doing “it”. But what I do know is that I’m ready.

Many years ago, if you would have said to me that I would be having my very own child in my 20’s I would have laughed. Laughed hard.

See, when I was younger (when I say young, I mean late teens) I never had the desire to have children. I wouldn’t coo or go “aww” at the sight of a child. Sure, they were cute, but that’s it. If one was heading my way I would conveniently go get a glass of water. I didn’t really get on with them and in some cases, they were awful little creatures that dribbled and screamed at pitches that broke glass. No thank you. Now, I’m not saying I didn’t like children, it simply wasn’t something that I desired.

There’s no reason I felt this way. I had a very loving up-bringing, etc. etc. I grew up in an area of Brighton whereby it was normal to have children young, but it’s not as if I was rebelling against my surroundings and refusing to “conform” (yes, I studied A-Level Sociology).

Perhaps,  I was unintentionally following in my mums’ footsteps (me and my mum are very alike) as I vaguely remember my mum saying she had the same beliefs re children when she was young. I’ll never know.

What I do know though; is that since meeting S, opinions and choices in life have now changed. Choices and decisions that I thought were made and set in stone many years ago have now changed – this now includes children. I never asked for anything to change when I met S, nor did she want anything in me to change, it just did… and I think I like it.

I now want children… Bugger.