Christmas.

Here are some of our Christmassy photos! Sorry for the delay, things are only just returning to nomal around here, the house still looks like toys 'r' us.
At the park enjoying the pre-Christmas snow.

Feeding the cold ducks in the snow.

" Mi-mi? Cooooorld!"

Wrapping paper hand made out of used parcel paper by Boy.

Homemade gingerbread tree decorations made by Boy and I. Great gifts for the grandparents.

Looks like we had a great time! Well the day itself didn't run so smoothly. Let me explain why.

I wish I'd been brave this year and stayed at home with my little family. Instead, I went to my mums and had to play by other people's rules. Two days before Christmas, my mum informed me that her Christmas dinner guests (her included? not sure) did not want me to breastfeed in front of them. (As we all know, breastfeeding is a shameful secret and should be hidden away. Want to give your child the best possible start to life? By god, shush, don't tell anyone.) With one guest in particular to be avoided at all costs. And pay? Gosh did I. I sat with a tiny three month old baby in a freezing conservatory in the snow on her very first Christmas, each wearing a coat and wrapped in blankets. Then a huge sheet of ice crashed down on to the roof, making us both jump (I did actually fear the roof would cave in), and as a result, Missis screamed for half an hour. (The crash was that loud. And very frightening even for me, who knew and understood what it was.) So next feed, I attempted to balance myself and my baby on an uncomfortable dining chair, with my feet on tip-toes to lift her, and my shoulders hunched to reach her. Comfy! Each time I was alone, listening to laughter and merriment going on in the next room, missing out on my son playing with his new toys. So finally, after everyone had enjoyed their dinner (mine was a bit hurried as GOD FORBID I fed the baby while people were EATING, how DISGUSTING) I went into the comfy livingroom to feed the baby and play with Boy. Next, the family member who I was told to stay away from or face the concequences, actually came and sought me out to have a go at me (while he faced the wall as he couldn't even bear to look in my direction, but god he milked it). I couldn't get up and leave because I was feeding, and the more he went on, the more I could literally feel my let-down reflex slowing down, I'd be there all day. Great. Eventually he left the room (no, no-one came to rescue me) and I started to cry. No matter, Missis with have another first Christmas next year. Oh no, wait, she won't, will she?

If mum had only given me a bit of notice, I'd have cooked for us and stayed at home. Thank goodness she warned me though, if I hadn't been expecting, well, something, I'd have been a lot more upset.

We were supposed to be attending said family member's house for their annual Boxing Day party the following day. Needless to say, I would rather have peeled off my own toenails than be humiliated like that again. (Plus, I was forbidden from breastfeeding in his house, never mind in the same room as him.) Even my mum's tipsy begging couldn't change my mind. But HID asked if he could go and take Boy, which I thought would be a good idea to prevent people from lying about why I wasn't there (oh, she couldn't come, baby is ill). I asked him what he planned to say when people asked where was. He said; "I'm proud of what you are doing. I'll say 'she's at home feeding the baby'." I love him.

Instead, we spent time with the other side of the family and attended a different gathering. I fed the baby surrounded by family. An eight year old girl sat next to me and stroked

Missis' head as I fed her. And a lady looked at us fondly and said "god, I miss breastfeeding." It was her daughter sat beside me, who she fed for years, not months.