We have stairs.  Stairs that we love. Concrete set, slight twist on the elevation with a goat horn bottom step.  Or so they call it. We spent weeks planning these stairs. Trawling the Internet for styles. Travelling the country looking at other folk’s choices. We settled on what we wanted and now they are quite the feature. We are very proud of them.

They were designed and installed by Tom and Jerry. Two men, not a cat and mouse.

We got our own individual pattern. We put wooden steps down.  More searching and we chose mosaic tiles for the in steps. Found a clever guy who works with metal to make our awkward bannister and add style.

Not too tricky to clean. Love them!

Parenting brings responsibility.  A heavy load to bear but one we bear willingly. Parenting also brings an actual ‘heavy load’ physically , never mind metaphorically! I have never carried so much in my life! My almost two year old is two stone and very tall. I have carried her whenever necessary all the way through my second pregnancy. Obviously I avoided it where possible. Nanas and grandads would lift her and exclaim that she was not light. I never felt it. I mean I knew she wasn’t light but her weight was part of me and the need to keep her safe outweighed the weight as it were.

I only need to carry Gigi on rare occasions. These include certain car parks, if she gets a fit of the ‘shys’ or going down the stairs.  Why not up? Whichever of us taking her to bed will hold her two hands and we walk her up, counting step by step. Thirteen. Or ‘durteen’ as she says. Walking her down is only starting about now. When I was pregnant I tried the same hand holding tactic only to get the wobbles myself. I found carrying her the safest.

In my last month of my second pregnancy, I developed a sore left heel. Saw that coming did you? I didn’t! How short sighted does being too close to a situation make you! Painful to step on, it is sometimes excruciating to walk on. I am hobbling. The doc said not to worry unless it is still there after the birth. It is still here! So my complete oblivion to the weight I carried did not go unnoticed by my poor foot! My beautiful little mites are threatening to destroy my heel like shattered antique china in a dodgily floored attic!!

Why oh why a stairs? When we were building a house, with all our dreamy fantasies, why did we think two storey was the business? Both of us grew up in bungalows. I have romantic notions of stairs! Sliding down bannisters Mary Poppins style! Sitting midway up reading. Now I think of it, things children would do. I don’t want my ladies sliding down the incredibly dangerous banister!! What were we thinking?

Lately the ‘coming down the stairs’ process is routine. It is a bit of work, but part of life. All the baby’s night time needs are in a bag. They are left on the stairs for collection. We have two customised stair gates as shop bought ones don’t work on our prettily designed child unfriendly staircase! If Mr Paper is milking and it is just me, Gigi and I go  first. Gigi stands at the bottom looking up at me (open plan ay the top) and I being down baby Betsy. Lately Gigi wants to take a teddy down with her too one my each trip.

We started with this guy.

A hippo next…

Mammy Bear. Or hippo.

Finally. The massive bear gifted to us when Gigi was born.

Daddy Bear.

Just to put it in perspective.

I carry Gigi. She carries bear. So am I carrying bear!? She wouldn’t think so! It is gorgeous to watch Gigi begin to love teddies. She makes them tea. Jabbers away to them. Cuddles and loves them. Just like her Mammy and Daddy love her.

Sure, my foot aches. There is an Xray result somewhere between the hospital and my doctor’s surgery. I have self diagnosed on Google and found what it possibly is. Time and no weight lifting will probably improve it. Thing is, I will still lift my babies when they need it and that is just the way! I still bring my girls for walks. The buggy handle is great to lean on! I regret one thing majorly. I usually do the  Ladies’ Mini Marathon in Dublin, walking, but this year I may not be able to. I have donated to the local hospice a couple of times and this year I wanted to do it for Crumlin hospital and the Ronald McDonald house…I will have to donate another way!

Like all children, my little ones are precious.  As I walk holding them on a precarious surface such as a stairs, I always have racing images in my addled Mother’s mind of poor parents trying to protect their children on overly loaded boats trying to find refuge. It breaks my heart. Tears gather. I clutch my children tighter. The heel will just have to suck it up. I can move mountains if they need me too.