All Grown Up...still feeling like a kid

First Impressions

2010-05-05T08:24:00.005Z

Some things that may happen if you take your high-need toddler with you on the organised tour of the prestigious local primary school which you are hoping he will attend:

in the staffroom during the boring adulty-talky bit, he will spot a pile of coasters and hand them out like biscuits to other bewildered parents (who, brilliantly, haven't brought along their offspring) and an amused deputy head.

when Mummy decides it's going to be all too much to let him run wild and deposits him in a sling in a quiet classroom, he will shout "OSH! OSH!" all through the next boring-talky bit until I get him "off".

he will attempt to steal dice from the first classroom we visit, the class teacher of which used to teach me.

he will use every single opportunity to run away.

he will squeeze through adult legs so that I can no longer see him.

He will not be impressed or amused with a plum from the bottom of my bag, but instead will roll it around in sand and then eat it.

he will paint all over children's drying paintings when you take your eye off him for ONE SECOND (ironically to express your concerns to the deputy head about how a "lively" child will fit into school life)

he will shake up the little pots which are home to caterpillars that the class are hoping will be butterflies before long, unless you stop him in the nick of time!
he will sit himself down in the empty dinner hall on the way out as if you never feed him, and stack empty cups, nodding forlornly when people ask him if he's hungry.

Well, I think he made an impression anyway.

All is quiet....

2010-04-12T07:58:00.003Z

So you know somethings going on. I take the baby and nip upstairs to the loo, and this is the scene of devastation that awaits me on my return.

I've never been more glad that I chose the tesco value oats, and not organic-such-and-such. He will turn his bath to porridge tonight. It was in his hair...even in the turn ups of his jeans. I'm thinking cupboard locks. Tonight. Shame HID spent an hour last night cleaning the kitchen.....cleaning the house while the kids are still growing is like shoveling snow while it's still snowing!

Weekending

2010-04-08T06:39:00.009Z

Well, a happy belated Easter to all! We had a bit of a crazy time, including mine and Missis' longest ever separation so far....planned of course. It was a friend's hen do, the one who you all voted for to win her wedding! She had an evening out planned, which I'd politely declined, sadly, knowing it was impossible at the moment, due to me being an all night snack bar. But, she also planned a spa day. Well, it was tough to refuse lunch, lazing around in robes, a facial, and full use of the facilities for a mere £35, so I took the plunge. Knowing that while Missis is still breastfed and most available babysitters point blank refusing to believe in the power of the sling as a calming tool, there was no way one person, not even sling-convert HID, could look after a high-need baby and a high-need toddler. So I split them up. Boy off to his Aunties to decorate hard boiled eggs, and Missis with Daddy for almost 5hrs solid of slinging. I did enjoy myself, but I felt like I was missing something the whole time. And when HID brought her back to me, I felt I just needed to feed her, even though she wasn't really interested, and I wasn't especially full.

Easter Sunday was spent with the same friend and her same-age-as-Boy daughter; they had organised a huge egg hunt for all the children they would usually have bought eggs for. I wasn't sure Boy would understand, so we'd done a practice run with his hard boiled eggs in the garden on Saturday, and he enjoyed it much more than I had thought. But on the day, he just wasn't in the mood for trekking round fields to look for eggs. Although he wasn't the youngest, he trailed the furthest behind, and if it wasn't for other parents being extra-kind and coercing their children into leaving one or two eggs behind, he's never have found any! Being a bit of an anti-junk-food household, we were secretly pleased he had just a few small eggs, some children had 20 or so! It would take him all year to eat that many with the amount of chocolate I'd let him eat in a week. We'd asked relatives not to get him chocolate. Only my Nanna ignored this, and she also attempted to buy seven month old Missis an egg, I managed to talk her out of it. Apparently, white chocolate is suitable for babies! The party tea after the egg hunt was lots of fun. It was a jacob's join, but I'd only been informed the night before, so I brought cheese butties. Not exactly fancy, but I was glad when I realised almost everyone else had brought some form of Easter cake! We decided to let Boy eat what he wanted, it was a party after all. He liked the idea of having the cakes, more than eating them, oddly. He ate one, but had many on his plate. They did look yummy! HID and I ate far more junk than he did. And Missis enjoyed trying lots of different savoury things.

On Monday we went to a friend's son's 5th birthday party at a local soft play place, taking the same friend that we'd spent most of the weekend with, since her and her partner don't drive. Halfway through the day, the Easter Bunny arrived! It was a total surprise to my friend who had organised the party. Boy LOVED it. He went straight over and wanted to touch the person in costume, and then started giving him high fives, much to mu amusement! All of this was before he even realised the Bunny was handing out chocolate eggs, well that just made his day. My friend's daughter had the opposite reaction to a costume-d man, and sat, shaking, at the other end of the room in Mummy's arms, poor thing. Neither of the toddlers were at all interested in the party tea, having gorged the previous day, but Missis was well up for it. With her tiny frame in a highchair next to all the huge toddlers, she shocked all the parents by managing four or so tuna sandwiches before deciding she'd had enough. I loved watching their faces, totally bemused at this tiny thing stuffing her face while all the toddlers pushed a few chips round their plates til the cakes came out.

We've had a great time this weekend too in the sunshine, even though my SPD has been really bad. HID had to take Wednesday as a sick day because I literally couldn't walk when I woke up. We misguidedly went to the zoo yesterday, I was too sore really, and was really hobbling when we came out. We only stayed an hour too! We did a little planting in the garden, it was lovely just being outside with the children. And choosing summery clothes for my little girl is the most fun. Hats, how I love hats! I took so many photos for her sitting in the grass. (And pulling it up. And eating it.)

Next weekend is my friend's wedding! My mum was asked to have Boy overnight, and is now taking him for the whole weekend to their cabin in the lakes, which he will love, and I'm sure we'll enjoy ourselves too. And HID has his mock motorcycle test, for a BIG bike, on the Sunday. I wasn't keen on him having a small bike, but when the little one got stolen while we were on holiday, he used the insurance money as a "silver lining" and booked his test. I know he'll do great. He's a very sensible rider. So busy busy once again!

Not what you think

2010-03-27T13:52:00.003Z

A message to the nosy old biddy that stared into my window at 11.20am this morning and shook her head in horror, in a "the youth of today" way when she saw me in my pajamas.

This morning I got up at 2am with my symphasis pubic dysfunction pain, leftover from a pregnancy that ended six months ago. I could no longer lie in one position, so here's what I did instead: folded all the children's washable nappies (yes, I use terries, just like you did with your children!) then folded and prepared the newborn sized nappies to be sold at the next NCT sale. Folded all my dry washing, put another load on. Went upstairs to feed my daughter. Left her asleep and crept downstairs for painkillers and to put away the washing up.

At 5.45am, my two babies got up. Then I cooked the whole family a hot breakfast and hung out the load of washing on the line. I tidied the kitchen and changed and dressed my two children. I played with them, then fed my daughter to sleep for her nap and stole forty winks myself while my son went food shopping with hid Daddy. When you saw me, I was changing my 5th nappy of the day, although you couldn't see my baby. The beautiful house you saw is ours, not our parents. We work hard. Don't judge me if you don't know me.

Baby Led Eating

2010-03-25T12:49:00.003Z

Missis is seven months old. She is just sitting. When she was five and a half months, she started to grab food out of my hand, HIDs hand, Boy's hand...you get the picture. And if you tried to take it back, oh, it was utter meltdown. So we started babyled weaning a bit earlier than I was comfortable with. We havn't yet come across a foodstuff that she hasn't grabbed and attempetd to devour with a gusto. The only problem seems to be her frustration at not being able to do it accurately/quick enough/soon enough. Perhaps it's her firey red hair coming out in her personality! It has made me realise that Boy and I had been totally stuck in a rut food wise. Cereal, cheese butty, pasta. Most days! Boring or what. Missis had become a bit constipated, I think due to the bread, so we've been shaking up the family meal rotas and doing some proper planning and shopping, and EATING! I've been going for things that are easier to hold for the sake of avoiding mealtime meltdowns when she just CAN'T DO IT! So tonight it was risotto fingers, recommended by a friend. Delicious, but what a faff and mess to make. Breakfast can be a toughie, fruit is good, but often to slippy to hold (and thus avoid meltdowns), cereals seem a bit little in the absence of a pincer grip just yet, and toast all the time is dull!

She's doing really well. She's so tiny that it shocks people when we are in public (two people in the last week have said she looks three months old, not seven), and it's prompted many people to ask me about baby led weaning, even via my photo albums of her eating on facebook! A few nights ago, we took her along with us to our favourite Italian restaurant. She was amazing. We leisurely ate our meal, and had an adult conversation, while she tucked into pasta and pizza. I loved this stage with Boy. And Missis, aside from her fireyness, is powering on with food. It took Boy ages to realise it wasn't just play and fun, she knew just a few weeks in! She shakes with excitment as her little hands shakily deliver the food to her wide, "O" mouth!

Family holiday

2010-03-21T12:44:00.011Z

Gloves are the essential item of the holiday. The UK in March. Not exactly warm.

A moment to catch their breath in the sunset.

It's bedtime, but Boy is begging for five more minutes outside! He even managed to put his own boots on to stress the importance. Didn't have the heart to point out he might be a little cold in just boots.

It's 7am. The perfect time for pottering around outdoors on your holidays in your pajamas and a pair of boots.

A preferred mode of family transport: the mai tai. Sadly, Boy is getting very big and I can't carry him anymore, and HID isn't far behind me on that one. This may have been Boy's last ride. HID is devastated.

It's never too cold for an ice cream from Twentyman's shop! Needless to say, the coat went in the wash.

Back to the car very cold and wet. The picture of a Daddy's love.

It rained overnight and the car was wet, so it had to be dried. Well, Mummy dried my little car!

On our way to the local park.

On the beach. Thank goodness for wellies!

You're never too young to appreciate this view. On a clear day, you can see Scotland and the Isle of Man!

Baby boot, Daddy boot.

Choosing a stone for Daddy from the beach. I'm a big fan of wellington boots, can you tell?

Last week was spent in Cumbria, enjoying Missis' first ever family holiday. We set off on Mother's Day, which was also HID's birthday, and it was forecast rain all week in the Lakes. We were staying in a tiny village on the Solway coast, in a field with chalets around it's edge, belonging to my parents. It's a very special place to me, I've been visiting since I was about seven years old, and it is where HID popped the question. I still can't believe our luck; it only rained for a few hours on Thursday afternoon! Yes, it was cold, and as soon as we left the field we were on the coast road and the biting wind was a price to be paid for being so close to the beach. But it was fine and dry, and there was room to run around and be outdoors. Blissful.

A week of being able to go for a shower, brush my teeth and have a wee whenever I wanted never lost it's appeal! And since Missis has decided that during her naps every single noise wakes her unless we walk for the full hour each time (xs 3 per day), my SPD leftover from pregnancy had flared up again, it was great to say to HID, "Actually, can you take her for a walk?" or "I'm going to bed with her, will you do something quiet with Boy?", so I feel well rested too.

We took Missis swimming for the first time too in Carlisle. HID hates swimming, which is the main reason we have lesft it so late (six months!) with Missis, as I can't take both on my own. I'd been nagging him and my mum (who also hates swimming) to come with me for aaaaaages. HID has feebly pointed out that he finds it stressful. Well, I hate to say it, but I do plenty of things on a daily basis that I find stressful but that enrich the children's lives, or are for their own good; learning to swim ticks both boxes. Jabs? Dirty nappies? Putting two children to bed on my own? Yes, having children can be stressful, get over it. I was desperate for it to go smoothly, Boy has grown so much since last time HID came with us, he's not so much of a handful anymore. I do sort of begrudge having to practically beg my husband to do something nice with us. Does this happen to anyone else?

So I feel like it was destined to go wrong from the start. All the local pools were shut during the week, as the "season" had only just begun, lucky I thought to check. Then we went to the "Sands" leisure centre in Carlisle, would you believe it, they don't have a pool. Why call yourself "Sands" then?? (This had happened to us before. Turns out "The Wave Centre" was a museum about coastal life). So we abandoned our expensive parking space and drove across the city to a small and packed carpark at the pool, and ended up parking a five minute walk away, not great considering we had two babies and two huge bags to carry. On arrival, we were informed that all children pay adult prices, even our six month old! We bit back our protests and went in.

What a relief. The pool was great, lovely and warm. Totally separate from the big pool, which couldn't even be seen, an important factor if you have a toddler with uncontrollable urges to throw himself in the big pool at every opportunity at our local pool. Lots of toys for us all to enjoy, and not to many other swimmers! Missis was fascinated, and didn't cry or fuss at all, as I'd expected. Boy was (finally, after months) persuaded to wear armbands, and swam unaided by us for the first time! When we got home, I signed them both up for a water babies swim class, and Boy refused to have any help at all during the class, swimming all by himself for the full hour. And I breastfed in a swimming pool, which was a bit weird, but fun.

We had such a great time on our holidays, and I was very glad to be part of Cumbria's tourist industry as they are still feeling the shock waves after the flooding.

The thing I loved most about the holiday was eating together as a family, 3 meals a day. On a week day, we are very luck to all eat together once! Missis has started baby led weaning (more on that to follow) and it's important to me that she sees eating as a pleasurable family occasion. We have no mealtime battles in our house! So that's been the thing I've most missed since we got home, to the point that I'm cooking tea for the children at 4ish, and eating a little with them, and cooking tea for everyone and serving it up at 6.45pm when HID arrives home, and hoping we've all finished before 7pm, which is bedtime! It's a bit of a rush, but I love all sitting round together.

I also managed to wangle one lie in. (He got 4, plus a night our when he stayed over at a friends and didn't get back timelunchtime the following day.) It wasn't on Mother's Day ("It's my birthday! Can't I have a lie in?!" He did) but the following Sunday. We'd been home for a few days, and he had promised! The babies had been getting up at 5am all through the holiday, and at 5.40am, Missis had HAD ENOUGH milk and wanted to GET UP. So I prompted him, and he got up with her! And then Boy too. I was so cold without them I couldn't really get back to sleep, so I got up at 7.15 to have a shower. When I came downstairs, they had gone out! I pottered aroundtidying up and drying my hair, and got a text at 8.15am asking to be picked up from the park, whenever I was ready. How fab is that!? And Missis went 4 hours without a feed, a new record. All ready for when I go on a spa day next month for a friend's hen do (the one that won her wedding after you all voted for her!). Can't wait!

Wordless Wednesday: Love that dress

2010-03-10T21:05:00.003Z

Do you have a favourite outfit of your child's? This goes straight on Missis as soon as it's dry from the wash :-)

Toddler to English Dictionary: revised edition

2010-02-28T21:53:00.009Z

He's growing up so fast. I took him paddling in the stream at the end of our road the other day. His first stream paddle! It was slightly stressful, with Missis in the sling too, but we had a great time.

So here are his latest in terms of favourite words. My favourites, that is....

Or-Tock: octopus

ash-ash: apple

sic-sic: chicken

didit: biscuit

Iya: phone, as in, Mummy's Iya

wot-wot: yoghurt

sassas: pasta

Dean: green

Right: white

Dick-cock: clock (*smirk*)

Dan: dance (accompanied by a shoulder wiggle)

Car Dan: a car with music playing on the stereo

Weak: drink, water

Meak: Milk

Mummy Meak: Mummy's milks.... you know, boobs!

Ahh: name for his sister. Everyone who meets her says "Ahhh".

Daddy dike: Daddy's bike (motorcycle). This applies to all motor bikes and leather gear.

Oh tie-ee: all tidy. Not that this happens often!

Night night: his "night night" comfort blanket

Nan nigh: saying goodnight

Miss: kiss. Also to mean dummy. It's a tedious link.

Dad: granddad.

Cheerios: cereal. Any type. (Including supermarket-own brand O's, not Nestle!)

No, dada, no! : I've finished my meal, thank you. (Ignore this warning and it's going on the floor)

Or-Oss: Awesome! (we watch an American children's music show. Listening and dancing to music iiiiis....AWESOME!)

Dillian: Brilliant (listening and dancing to music is also brilliant)

Tun ON!: come ON! (something I say when frustrated. Come ON zip. Come ON shoe. Come ON car. Etc. Not thrilled he repeats this! At least it's not swearing.

Ma-mo: banana

Ossh: off

Tenny: penny

Notice in the above words that Boy sometimes pronounces "F" as "sh" and "P" as "t". I don't swear in front of the children, and instead have chosen to say "oh flip" when things aren't going my way. Boy copies. But change the F to an sh, and the P to a T, and he says......oh dear. Perhaps I'd better come up with a new non-swearword.

After being found to have a language delay at his two year check two months ago, Boy has advanced to quickly, I often find myself wondering where he heard such and such, or how he knows about this or that when he comes out and says certain things. He really thinks about things, and now he can say enough words to tell us what he's thinking about. Yes, it is mostly cars, but it's interesting nonetheless! I'm so ridiculously proud of him, it's only learning to talk, most children do it no problem, but its just so utterly amazing to see this baby that I MADE telling me that his sister has finished her milk, so now mummy can get the blocks out for me. As exciting as I find it, I'm also clinging on to that baby I once had. I was writing some of his funny sayings in his baby book last night, and some of the pictures in there make my heart ache. He was so small not very long ago. His sister looks just like him. When she grows, will she be like Boy is now? I remember being so excited when he learned to blow a raspberry at four months. Everything he conquers is so precious to me, but I know I can't keep them all forever. It's like trying to keep water in my hands, I can't stop it slipping away but I'm just not ready to let it go. My baby is a boy.

On Wednesday, he got his very first freckles, just five or so, round the smiley crinkles of his eyes. I was delighted. I'm covered in freckles and so is HID, I've always thought they are so beautiful. When I was a little girl, my granddad told me the sun had given me special kisses.

On the same day, he said "yes" for the very first time. For almost a year, he'd used a waving hand (like a nodding hand) for yes, which then turned into a pirate-like "Aye", then for a few weeks into "hurrah", and finally yer. Not "yeah" but a clear and beautiful yes.

He gets on my last nerve sometimes, but other times, I have to squeeze him just a little too tight while I still can.

Sibling Love

2010-02-18T20:23:00.005Z

I love how he loves her. How she HAS to be the first person he sees when he wakes. How she is the ONLY person who can pacify him when his shoulders heave with tears of frustration. How his eyes dance with joy when he's reunited with her. How I now play second fiddle to the new lady in his life.

I love how she loves him. How she squeals with delight when he gives her his undivided attention. How she traces his beloved face with her tiny, thoughtful fingers. How she can be brought from the blackest of moods with just one of his tender kisses.

I love how they are together. The way they already, after five months together, have little in jokes that I just don't get and know nothing about the reasons for their fits of giggles. When I am driving my car and he mimics her babbles and squeals. until they are both laughing so hard they can hardly breathe. I love that I don't need to think of ways for each child to be entertained while I just get dressed, for they entertain each other.

I know now that having a second child doesn't halve the love you feel for your first. I love him in so many more new ways as he fills his role as a big brother. Not only does he have somebody new in his life to love, but she loves him back so fiercely, I sometimes almost don't believe it. Two children doubles the love. At least.

How do you eat yours??

2010-02-15T15:24:00.004Z

This is my Valentines Day story. A few weeks ago, a very lovely friend read my blog post about me not wanting to leave Missis just yet, especially with a carer that didn't want to use a sling. As a seasoned, and pregnant, babywearer, she offered her services to reap some apparently "much needed" practice. (As if, this girl babywears like she invented slings!). This was via text. I couldn't think of any reason to have a babysitter (she just comes along with us) besides sex. Co-sleeping with your baby is a wonderful experience, but when your sofa is the £100 ikea one that's too narrow to lie on your back and not long enough to stretch out (and I'm only 5ft), unless you're feeling very energetic, sex has to be a very quiet and rushed affair, and on balance of waking a slumbering, light-sleeping baby, often isn't worth the trouble. A lightbulb went on in my head.

"Well, it might be nice to have sex again before my virginity grows back!" I replied.

So, before you know it, I had a babysitter for an hour of afternoon delight on the Saturday of Valentines weekend. Another few quick texts, and Boy was off to the local soft-play centre with his Auntie and Nana under the guise of HID and I "going out for lunch" and having "quality time" for Valentines day.

The day was much anticipated. I even shaved my legs the day before! Poor HID was so desperate that upon enjoying an Easter-themed desert one night after tea, I was practically growled at and told the way I eat a creme egg is almost sexual. I can assure you, the way I eat a creme egg is gross. I wouldn't do it in public, that's for sure.

Saturday came and we exchanged gifts early, we had both bought each other chocolates from Thorntons, fantastic, and HID had also splashed out on some lovely smellies from Lush, my favourite. Boy was taken out, and my friend arrived for Missis, and just like that, we were alone in our house for the first time in a very long time. With all that planning and anticipation, something was bound to go wrong, wasn't it?

Well, less than an hour later, HID was tucked up in bed nursing a bleeding member. I sort of accidentally bit him. I swear it wasn't my fault, or anything especially kinky! He just got a little over excited during oral sex (can you blame him?) and it was a particularly bad angle, I knew it was going to happen, but I had no way of warning him! I did not expect all the blood though, that was quite alarming, and if we hadn't been going pretty much without sex for the past six months, admittedly would have been a turn off.

Me, eyeing the injury: "Are you going to be ok?" (as in, to finish the job?)
Him: "I'll have to be!" (interpreted by me as a desperately horny [and brave] statement, but I found out later he was worrying about the physiological fact that all the blood was rushing towards the injured area due to his current state of arousal, and the only way to stop it was to actually go through with it, pain or not)

As much as I love sex, doing it to a schedule doesn't really work for me. I was paranoid that we were short of time (and, shamefully, kept checking), and that my mum and sister would bring Boy back early, when they had no idea what we were up to! Or that Missis wouldn't settle, and my friend had brought her back and was sitting directly beneath us in the sitting room. (A distant dog barking can sound remarkably like a baby's cry). Then I started worrying that the baby monitor was on, and a collection of people (mum, sister, friend, toddler, baby etc) were all listening to our amorous groaning! Needless to say, I couldn't concentrate. I certainly enjoyed myself, but between the blood on the sheets and my over active imagination, it didn't quite go to plan.

That night HID went to the cinema with his friend, on what I can only describe as a "man-date". Well, it was Valentine's eve, they went to see a romantic comedy, and his friend even dressed up nicely for him. For some reason (possibly missing his nap and a very busy day) Boy did not settle all evening, and at 10pm, I invited him downstairs to watch cartoons, lest his crying wake his sleeping sister while I was on my own and couldn't see to two of them at once. I was so lucky that Missis slept well (a rarity) but I still only got to bed at midnight, just before HID came home (after eventually switching his phone on and getting my texts asking him to hurry back). So when at 6am, Missis was awake, no longer wanting fed (all is usual but unfortunate after a late night), I felt perfectly justified in asking for a Valentines lie in. (But I did have to ask) I convinced HID to get up with her, and he also got Boy up when he woke, only bringing Missis back to me at 8.30 for a feed (which turned into a nap) so I didn't get up til after 9! Which was better than chocolate, and on a par with sex
:-)

That night, HID rented a film, and FORCED me to watch it. That is, watch it without the laptop on, or while folding nappies, or doing physio exercises, or any of the other million jobs I could have done. At first I was a bit panicky about having to relax properly (without sleeping), but as I felt a little unwell, I went with it. I really enjoyed myself, more than I had in ages! We watched "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist" and it was great.

I love my husband. And he's feeling much better now, thank you ;-) (it was just a bruise.)

Baby Killer

2010-02-11T20:51:00.012Z

Every day, 4000 babies die from unsafe bottle feeding. Aggressive, and illegal, advertising is the root cause of this. Companies are supposed to stick to the International Baby Food Action Network (IBFAN) code for infant feeding (this includes baby purees and other baby foods advertised as suitable from anytime before six months, breast milk substitutes) so that breastfeeding is not undermined, especially to vulnerable women in poor communities, where bottle feeding can be, and often is, deadly. As part of my BfN training, I saw a television advertisement that was (possibly still is? I shudder to think) shown in a developing country, showing a gifted child playing a violin solo to a crowded concert hall, and then that same child drinking the brand's formula milk from a glass. It implies, to a culture where many people get much of their information about the wider world from shared televisions, that drinking formula milks makes children gifted. Even without TV, companies bombard health workers with bribes and freebies to promote their brand, with midwives asking new mothers not "Are you bottle feeding?" but "Which brand do you use? Oh, no, you must buy this, more expensive milk!". The companies provide a few free samples to mother in hospitals, getting them "hooked", compromising their milk supply and by the time they leave hospital, all the artificial milk is gone, and the breast milk may well be gone too, and the women have no idea how to re-lactate. Imagine then, a family spending almost all their wage on artificial milks because it is "best for baby". Imagine an even poorer family, who travel many miles daily for water. Not just to make up a feed, but to boil to sterilise (expensive) bottles and teats, to wash their hands before making and giving each feed. Using up precious fuel to boil precious water 6-8 times daily (and we all know babies who like to feed more often). Without English as a first language, deciphering labels instructions on how to prepare feeds. At night, preparing feeds by candlelight. Is it any wonder babies end up malnourished from "weak" formula, stretched to make it to payday? Die of diarrhoea because their mother's hands are not clean enough and the equipment was not properly sterilised? Not got a TV nearby? Don't worry, you're sure to see a billboard, portraying a smiling Western child, and the west is best, or so people believe. These companies prey on babies whose very survival is dependant on the life-giving infection-fighting breast milk their mothers make all by themselves. All for a profit. These companies, albeit indirectly, kill babies.

Even in the USA, where bottle feeding is considered safe, 750 babies under 12 months die every year due to not being breastfed.

According to UNICEF: "Improved breastfeeding practices and reduction of artificial feeding could save an estimated 1.5 million children a year." Yet baby food companies continue to market artificial foods in ways that undermine breastfeeding. The people responsible have names and addresses - call on them to market products ethically.

The main offender is Nestle. Nestle is among the most boycotted companies on the planet, and is top in the UK. I'm asking you to join me in my boycott of them. Stop buying all Nestle products in support of the boycott. What they are doing is not OK. They are responsible for baby deaths. Show your support, please. Ask your family and friends. Nestle make all kinds of products, please read labels carefully. Nescafe is the main one (many coffee machines are Nestle), along with chocolate, cereals, but less obvious products such as bottled water, pet foods and cosmetics. For an extensive list, please see the Baby Milk Action website.

I'm sure you and your families will be buying lots of eggs this Easter, please remember to choose alternative brands. I'm going as far as to say to family and friends that we will not be able to accept any Nestle eggs. Some of you may have seen that Nestle has a fair trade kitkat out at the moment. Please do not be fooled by this PR move. The kitkat contains 1% of the chocolate the company makes. Only this is fair trade. The other 99%, Nestle uses questionable methods, even child labour, to obtain. Nestle has not changed.

This is not a new issue, the boycott has been around for years. I'm a newcomer to the issue and wanted to share it with you all. It's not about this awful "breast verses bottle" thing that has been going round, I am not naive, I know some babies do need to be bottle fed. But those babies deserve for the milk that they receive to be safe. Please take part in the boycott.
Because this is such an important issue, no matter how you feed your child (every child has the right to basic health and safety), I'm making this post into a tagging post! Boycotting Nestle will be great for your waistline :-)

So here are the rules:

1.) Go to the Baby Milk Action website and find out more & start boycotting.

2.) Sign up to receive the boycott brief, and if you can afford to, sign up to be a member or purchase some merchandise. A mug or magnet would make a great gift for a new mum or mum to be.

3.) Tell Nestle what you think of them. Here is a sample letter. Post it via snail mail or email as you wish!

4.) Tell family and friends. Link to this post, or the Baby Milk Action website, in an email or via facebook or similar.

5.) Tag 15 bloggers to do the same, and write you own post, or copy and paste this one, on the issue.

Here are my 15, please take part guys, it's such an important issue. Nestle is causing millions of baby deaths. You can do something to help.

1. Susanna at a modern mother

2. Josie at Sleep is for the Weak

3. Cave Mother

4. Claire at The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

5. Emily at Maternal Tales from the South Coast

6. Crafty Creative at From Rat Racer to Positive Parent

7. Stephanie at Adventures in Babywearing

8. Amy at and 1 more means 4

9. Sandy at Baby Baby

10. Zooarchaeologist at Being a Mummy

11. A Midwife's Muse

12. Stickhead at Slightly South of Sanity

13. Kat at Slugs on the Refrigerator

14. Tasha at Wahm-Bam

15. JK at West of the Pennines

Breastmilk is a life saver to all children. Babies under 6 months who are not breastfed are five times more likely to die from pneumonia and seven times more from diarrhoea. When reserachers looked at all the possible means of preventing infant and young child death they found that improving breastfeeding practices could prevent more deaths than any other single strategy; even more than such key benefits as the provision of safe water, sanitation, immunisation and medical servies. (Taken from Palmer's "The Politics of Breastfeeding"). Nestle are partly responsible to a decline in breastfeeding. It's almost as if human development is taking a step backwards, all for money!

Recent findings...

2010-02-11T20:45:00.002Z

This week, I found a (very old, at least three months) children's portion of vacuum packed (thank god) cheddar cheese in the side pocket of my nappy bag, along with one of two borrowed essential oils (lavender, presumably to combat the cheese smell) from a friend to help me through my cesarean. My baby is 5 months old, and they didn't even allow me to use it in theatre, this should have been returned long ago! Last week, on the way home from slings group, I found one of the children's centre's jigsaw pieces in Boy's coat hood (how???), and this week after slings group, there was a large googly eye stuck to the hem of his trousers. Clearly, he is collecting materials form some sort of craft project. As long as it's not a traffic cone when he's 18, eh?

Breastfeeding and returning to work.

2010-02-08T20:05:00.003Z

I've recently trained as a breastfeeding helper with the Breastfeeding Network, and they are looking to produce a leaflet for mums who are returning to work, full of mum's experiences and tips. The trouble is, although we get asked about this a lot, once the women have returned to work, we often don't hear anything more from them, so we don't really know what worked, what didn't work, and how the story worked out. So I'm putting out a plea on the internet for mum's tips and expriences around the subject of returning to work and breastfeeding.

How did you broach the subject with your employer? Were they accomodating?
How did your baby react/cope?
Did you have any issues with other colleagues?
Were nursery/childminders keen to help?
Did you hand express/use a breastpump? (for comfort? for baby?)
How long did you breastfeed while working?
What happens at weekends?
Does mixed feeding work for you?
Why did you want to keep breastfeeding? (health benefits, keep close with baby etc)

Or anything else you can think of! Too long for the comments box? Drop me an email; allgrownup06@hotmail.com

Here is one mum's experience to get you going:

“I was really worried about going back to work fulltime and the prospect of still being able to breastfeed was a serious concern. I had originally thought that I would keep up breastfeeding at night and when I was at home but introduce formula for a feed during the day when I was at work. But things never go to plan! C was found to be allergic to milk but can tolerate my milk. I returned to work when she was five and a half months, and was advised to start weaning her although I really wanted to do the baby led weaning approach as we had discussed at the group. We started weaning her on purees which she really liked.

On returning to work I had to make sure I had the provision to express, which in my busy job as a primary school teacher would be hard. I thought I would have to lock myself in my stock cupboard!! No nice first aid rooms in our school with fridges and so on, my deputy was great and let me use her office she got me a key so I could lock myself in there.

Breastfeeding really does have its advantages... I can stay in bed a little longer I have to get up at 7 to get ready for work so we set our alarm for 6:15 when my husband goes and gets C and brings her into bed for her feed until 7 when the alarm goes off again, if I was bottle feeding then I would have to get up!

I now only express at lunch time it takes me about 10-15 mins to express about 2-3 ozs, I keep all my equipment in a cool bag with an ice pack which I just take home everyday I use a hand pump. The milk is given to C next day around lunchtime.

Initially I was very engorged so wore loose tops where you couldn't tell, I needed to express at playime (about 10:30) then at lunchtime and at the end of the school day (3:30) if I wasn’t going straight home to feed her. This lasted for about 3 weeks. I now find at 8 months my body seems to know when it is weekend I feed on demand which is much more than during the week. During the week I feed her first thing, express at lunchtime, when I get home about 5ish, then any number of times until bedtime which ranges from 8-10 O'Clock so she is getting at least 4 good feeds a day from me and perhaps a 2oz bottle of expressed milk.

School holidays I feed her on demand as at weekends but have found that when I return to work I am engorged for the first day but its really not that bad and I still only need to express at lunchtime. C's has only had one cold in her 9 months!!! which is quite an achievement as I bring home all sorts of bugs from the children at school. I really didn't think I would still be breastfeeding now 9 months down the line.”

Please be aware that we will need your permission to use the tips/info you provide for the leaflet. Thanks for your help!

Top tips for a toddler party

2010-02-01T14:33:00.005Z

Here is Boy at his 2nd birthday party. The event took place over the weekend, even though he's been two for over a month now! His birthday is on Christmas eve, so we thought it would be nice to postpone his party, and make a proper fuss of him, rather than his big day being forgotten in the rush of Christmas.

I avoided having to pass Missis round like a parcel to all my well meaning relatives by carrying here everywhere, and she was so happy to see what was going on. She the type of baby that smiles for strangers, but as soon as I appear, the tears start in a "Mummy, thank goodness, I can show my ture feelings" kind of way.

He looks so tall in this photo! Maybe I need to turn those turn-ups down again.
We stole a fabulous idea for a toddler part from a friend: hire out a hall and take all your child's large toys (the ones in the shed and under the stairs and in his Nanna's garage) and let the kids go wild. It's cheap, you can invite everyone, and the mess isn't at your house.

But you do still have to clean up the mess.

We also put on a huge fancy dress box. It was great seeing the children running round in tu-tus and suchlike, even the boys!

A wonderful, but crazy, time was had by all. It was early bedtimes all round.

My big boy doing what he does best: tearing round like a loon, eating and socialising.

I was really impressed at how many dads came to the party, I'd expected just mums really, but I was happily introduced to many of my mum friend's partners. Great to see all the dads!

I had the idea of giving out helieum ballons instead of naff party bags as gifts....as you can see, it didn't go exactly to plan.

The balloons were a big hit though. Before they hit the ceiling.

So here are some tips for a successful toddler party:

Do: set aside an organised place for guests to put gifts.

Don't: end up with a jumble of presents in bags and a Mr Potato Head and a Yo Gabba Gabba doll that you really don't know where they came from to text a quick thank you message.

Do: plan pleanty of time to set up the room on the day, and allow for some guests to show up 15 mins early.

Don't: think half an hour is enough and be up to your eyeballs in play tent pegs when your first guests arrive.

Do: give guests attention while keeping a watchful eye on the birthday boy/girl

Don't: get so busy catching up with your friends that hubby has to inform you your son has been stuck on a ride on tractor for at least 3 minutes (according to the photos he took) shouting "duck, Mimi, duck!"

Do: put the left over cake where parents can help themselves.

Don't: leave it within reach of Boy, you will come back in 5 mins to find all the decorating dolly mixtures gone. Then in 10, all the icing. I counted 7 slices of cake that I saw him eat. (16% of his RDA sugar for an adult per slice. The word is "wooops")

Do: ask people without children to help on the day.

Don't: let your oldest friends get treated like staff by parents. Sorry girls xx (they must have made 50 cups of tea!)

Do: think of something unusual for children to take home from the party, like a balloon on a string.

Don't: put your mum in charge of providing string. It will be paper streamers which will rip when tied.

Do: Save money by stating on the invitation "games and cake" and holding the party between dinner and teatime.

Don't: buy so much cake that you will be giving it away all week.

Do: provide healthy snacks and drinks, such as fruit and diluted fresh juice, no one wants a hyper toddler to take home.

Don't: be surprised when you child has black poo due to all the blueberries he ate.

Do: make sure everyone gets a piece of cake, even if they leave early.

Don't: let your toddler see you giving out cake before he's had any, unless you like tantrums that is.

Do: buy two cakes: one to cut and wrap the night before so your small guests can have cake the second the candles have gone out.

Don't: forget to suggest to parents that their child might like to use one of the untouched paper plates, or you will spend much time hoovering.

Do: have a great time!

Don't: invite 20 children and 40 adults to an event ever again.

Well it's like Christmas all over again here at our house, lots of new toys, we had to invite friends over to play with them yesterday :-)

It's hard to believe how fast time goes, his age is now being counted in years and not months!

Soft Play: a rant

2010-01-28T20:30:00.002Z

My mum and I took Boy (and Missis) to a soft play centre this week. It was a different one from the local one we frequent. The equipment was much better, more, cleaner, more imaginative, better split into sections. But halfway through our visit, I asked for a feedback form. I wanted to complain. I never received one, so here is my letter of complaint.

Dear Sir/Madam,
I am writing this letter following a visit with my two year old son and 4 month old daughter to your soft play centre. I wanted to express my views on the way it was run, from a mother's perspective. I came that day to play with my son, and I assume that is the goal of most parents attending. But on arrival, the staff member at the front desk (which is in the same room as all the exciting equipment, separated by a gate) bombarded us with extra charges on our entry fee for "meal deals". My mother, attending with us that day, got very flustered, as did I (my son was very upset at this delay) and paid the extra monies for a drink and biscuit/fruit. We also had thrust upon us a form to fill in for The Body Shop, who were in attendance that day, apparently giving facials. By this point, my son was itching to play and we were finally let inside. Before we had even put our things down or taken our coats off, a lady from The Body Shop came over and pestered us. I was very annoyed at this point and walked away to tend to my son. I did not come to ignore my child and get a makeover, I came to play.
Later, the "meal deal" arrived. There was no choice of fruit, and I was shocked to see it was just two and a half slices (not wedges) of orange (not worth the money at all) and a very brightly coloured drink not at all suitable for toddlers. My son got most upset that I would not allow him to drink the juice, which although sugar free, was packed with artificial sweeteners, colours and flavours. I would suggest a carton or 100% apple or orange juice would be more appropriate.
I was mostly pleased with the actual play facilities, except the sports area for playing ball games. This could only be accessed via an assault course suitable for quite old children, and although he loves to play with footballs, my son would not cross these barriers to the sports area. The assault course also presents a problem for parents needing to retrieve a child from the area in an emergency, for example, an injury.
The cafe on site provided what seemed to be a host of healthy meals for adults, and a selection of junk food for the children. I was glad to have brought a packed lunch for my son, however frowned upon that may be. My main gripe with the food served, other than the rip-off "meal deals", was the deserts counter. It held lots of cakes, chocolates and biscuits, and was at the EXACT eye-level of a toddler. As you can probably tell from what I have written already, I don't believe junk food is appropriate for toddlers and my son rarely has access to that kind of fare. But he knows what it is, and repeatedly went up to the counter and banged on it, getting upset when I said no, and getting under the feet of adults at the counter carrying hot food and drinks above his head.
At this pointed I asked for a feedback form. It never arrived.
One more issue I had was the extra charge for the go-karts. I must say, I felt very much taken advantage of during my visit, really as though you were out to squeeze very last penny from my purse. The atmosphere was one of making money, not enjoyment. I will not be visiting again. Our local soft-play area, although basic, meets our needs much more efficiently, and does not ram commercialism and consumerism down our throats. On the whole, I think many parents, particularly parents of young children visiting midweek like I did, attend your establishment not to sit around chatting and having coffee while ignoring their children, but to have a nice family day out and enjoy being with their children. I would have appreciated being left alone once I had paid my entry to play with my son.
Yours,
Grown.

What do you think? Too harsh? ;-)

Sky+ Children; a niche market

2010-01-27T12:50:00.003Z

Wouldn't it be great if children were a bit more like Sky+? I could just pause while I nipped for a wee and know that total devastation would not meet me on my return. Like Sky, you couldn't pause forever, while you went out to get your hair done or anything, but three minutes? Like, enough time to make a sandwich after sitting and feeding Missis to sleep for 40mins (with a grumbling tummy), only for her to wake up as soon as I set foot in the kitchen. While we're at it, fast-forwarding a few of those newborn breastfeeding mammoth sessions would be great. I'm all for staring in adoration at a tiny baby at my breast, but after three hours just out of arms reach of the remote/laptop/mobile/book, it wears a bit thin. Fast-forward tantrums? Yes please. And volume control. I'd love a bit less "BEEP-BEEP! CRASH!" from Boy just as I'm extracting a sleeping Missis from my arms.
But the best facility my Sky+ children would have is the ability for me to record. To record the squeals that Missis makes when her brother gives her a good-morning cuddle, the cuteness of chubby little fingers squeezing mine, to not wipe away a funny facefull of weetabix, record the way a sleeping baby looks, smells, feels, sounds. When Boy was tiny, I wrote down some notes to him, telling him some of my favourite things about the baby he was then. It makes me so sad that looking back at these scribbles less than two years later, I can't understand them. I can't remember the things I mention. I know Missis is my last baby, and I feel like each of her milestones are like dry sand running through my fingers, I want to grasp at everything but I know I'll never remember it all! I just try to enjoy every moment. But I do wish sometimes that children were a bit more like Sky+........

Slinging praises

2010-01-21T12:39:00.009Z

I don't often share personal photos on my blog, but I figured what the hell! I love this picture of me and Missis, she will look very different in a few months anyway.

Missis is now four months old. She spends about 40% of her time in a sling or being fed, and 40% in our bed with us (being fed!), the other 20% is made up of being held, played with, or playing by herself/with her brother on the floor. She, like her brother before her, ABHORS being put down, unless it is her choice, and it's not one she makes often. So I carry her. I've just learned a few weeks ago how easy it is to put her on my back with a stretchy wrap. (a MAM eco babywearing set, with matching hat and booties, so cute, borrowed from slingmeet in orange, see above, then bought my very own :-) and dyed it purple, see above!) She loves riding on my back. Sometimes, when I had her on my front, she would push away and want to see what was going on. (I believe a baby should never be carried facing outwards, it puts too much pressure on the pelvis, and I suffer with a pelvic disorder). I was worried she didn't like being carried! But I've since found that a front carry is a sleepy position, and a back carry is for nosy babies. I carry her high, and she peeps over my left shoulder while I chop onions, or bath Boy, or hang out washing. I'm really at a loss to think what exactly I would have done (other than leave her to cry) without the sling while I look after a toddler too. In fact, that applies to looking after myself too. Making myself meals or drinks, brushing me teeth, going to the loo. I really don't know how people manage without slings, especially if they have more than one small child. Surely not all babies that don't get carried in slings are "good"? (Than awful word used to describe lethargic, quiet, complacent infants). If I didn't use a sling, Boy would quite possibly have to have all his naps and meals whenever it suited Missis (i.e. not very often) and I would have to wait until HID got home from his 12hr working day for me to have a wee or something to drink or eat. Either that or let her cry, something I cannot stomach unless absolutely essential. (i.e. 3 mins crying while being carried in the sling while I put Boy down for a nap, then I can feed her. And crying while being held by someone who loves you, and crying in a dark room alone are totally different things). What do people without slings DO with babies? How do they do other things? In the early days, I even used a special sling that I could wear in the shower so I could get clean without putting her down to cry. Now she's happy to sit in a bouncy chair for 5 mins while I chat to her through the glass door.

All this being said, I find it unbelievable to remember that I only borrowed my first sling when Boy was FOUR MONTHS OLD, the age Missis is now, who has spent hours upon hours in the sling. And Boy was even MORE high need than Missis. Well, perhaps Missis is just as high need as Boy was, but it's much less noticeable because we don't try to fight it by putting her down, we just take her with us. I really didn't enjoy Boy's newborn days. It could have been the rocky recovery from the birth, but it could have been the relentless carrying, even at night, and total neglect of my own needs for a baby that, even as 6 months old, woke every 2hours or less. When we started to carry him everywhere, he started to chill out. How did we cope without carrying him when he was tiny? It is really crazy to look back now. I rely on my slings so much.

I love helping out at my local slingmeet now. The lady that runs it is very pregnant and poorly at the moment, so some of us older members (all of whom either now have new babies or are expecting them within 6 months time) sort of run it when she's not able. Today was particularly busy! Lots of new ladies came needing help, demonstrations and wanting to borrow slings. We lent out 2 wraps, 3 mai-tais and a pouch! Missis was star demo baby, in & out, up & down, back, front and hip. I even popped Boy up on my back to demonstrate how long you can enjoy carrying for. I was pleasantly surprised I could still do it after a 6 months break!

post-script: while I was dyeing my sling purple, I amazed myself at my own genius by deciding to do the ultimate in recycling Boy's old baby clothes without dressing my gorgeous girl head to toe in blue. I popped a few stripey vests, a white cardigan, some beige cord pants, some blue baby-leg-warmers, and some striped trousers and even a few pairs of socks! Apart from the cardi, which is a dissapointing lilac, the rest look great! I'm so chuffed. Boy had a gorgeous dungaree set with a blue&browm striped vest, which Missis can now wear and look uber funky and girly at the same time!! They are not in the picture as she's wearing them :-)

Social life? You can keep it!

2010-01-17T20:33:00.003Z

A while ago, while pregnant, I posted about my invite to HID's work's Christmas do. I assumed Missis would be "high need" like Boy, I assumed correctly, and tried to convince the relevant people at HID's company to allow me to bring her in a sling. Needless to say, in our baby-unfriendly western world, they refused. Missis was born and the date loomed. We were co-sleeping (still are- we put her name-plaque on our bedroom door, we foresee her in with us for quite some time yet) so the idea of me staying overnight in a hotel away from her was laughable, there was no way she'd sleep in a cot for my mother. So maybe I'd go for an evening out. Missis fed every hour as a newborn...and this continued for many weeks. I began to express milk two months in advance, as I find expressing very hard work, yielding very little for my efforts. I began to realise that all the frozen breast milk in the world could not compare to the comfort of a breastfeed, and besides, she would need to be syringe or cup fed due to a total refusal of the bottle. (Much to my mother's horror, who had never heard of such a thing as a baby refusing the bottle).

Weeks passed and Missis smiled, fed and slept in my arms only. She allowed HID to hold her for short periods in the sling, a parenting method that my mother will not be a party to, even after explanations that is was the one surefire settling tool she could use, besides spontaneous lactation! I started to feel more and more uneasy about leaving her. Perhaps I'd stay just for the meal....

A few days before the party was my 25th birthday. Missis was three months old. My sister offered to babysit so that we could eat out. She isn't especially confident with babies, she was really trying to be nice. I didn't really want to be apart from Missis, but everyone seemed to think I'd enjoy it, and it was the perfect trial run for the party, so I said yes. We were out for two hours and I felt awkward the whole time. After half an hour, I really wasn't enjoying myself, but continued as I didn't want HID or anyone else to think I was crackers. I didn't feel this way last time, I was desperate to get away, I was depressed. So this was all new and surprising to me. My sister called me to hurry home, I gladly did. Apparently Missis had cried so much she'd had called my mother (but not me) over to settle her down. I was really upset by this news and decided not to go to the party at all.

The boss' wife text me when she heard I wasn't going. She said perhaps, if I left her in the room, Missis could come after all, and she would see if the hotel offered a baby listening service. There were a few things wrong with this suggestion (as well as the hypocrisy). One, bar twice in her life falling asleep in the car and sleeping in her carseat for two hours, she has never slept unaided, i.e. without my body touching her in some way (sling/breast/family bed). Two, even if we were lucky and Missis slept like a baby (whoever invented that saying ought to be shot) the idea of someone me and my baby didn't know listening out for her? How long would they let her cry before the came to get me? How long would it take to find me? How long would it take for me to get to the room? No way. It turns out no such service was available anyway.

I decided, maybe if we took the baby monitor that I could keep on the table, if we were lucky, she may sleep long enough for me to socialise a little. And if not, maybe ordering room service and charging it to the company and a huge bed and TV weren't the worst things in the world! And if I wasn't happy, I could turn straight round and come home. Then I found out it was over an hours drive away! Hmmm, perhaps the trip wasn't worth it. The boss' wife had insisted that the room was less than 30 seconds away from the function room, which sounded good. HID gave me the hotel's number to call and confirm this. It was a complete fabrication, the receptionist informed me our room was at the other side of the building, there was no way our monitor would work to cover that distance. She could only move our room to the closest one within our party (and that was only with the boss' wife's express permission) and even that wasn't close. The snow started to fall and the driving conditions worsened.

Needless to say, I didn't go in the end. And I'm still not ready to leave her now. People think this is very strange. HID made up a little story about her being unwell, he did not feel comfortable telling people his wife refuses to be separated from her new baby. Even I am a little surprised by feeling this way. After a difficult birth that resulted in two separate (6hr in total) surgeries and permanent nerve damage I still suffer with today with my first baby, I almost couldn't wait to be rid of Boy, (who was just as difficult, but not breastfed and slept in a cot. I say slept...for 2hrs at a time til 6m, and only when very settled) and we left him overnight and two days with my mother when he was 3m old and went away for the weekend, 2hrs away. I know now it was PND, and I feel terrible about it. But I could not leave Missis. How strange that they are having such different starts in life.

A Classic Argument

2010-01-13T09:31:00.003Z

My cousin's current facebook status:

X wants to know whether standing on an upturned plug with bare feet is more or less painful than being hit in the nuts?

some misguided replies:

try it! bloody kills!
06 January at 19:29

its a close call. upturned plugs are a nightmare
06 January at 19:30

less id say mate depends on size of nuts pmsl
06 January at 19:32

Wot about bein hit in the nuts by an upturnd plug?
06 January at 21:01

My reply:

in that case the eternal argument of whether childbirth or getting hit in the nuts is more painful is over. Standing on a plug is like being kissed by a fairy compared to childbirth you bloody wuss!

What would you have replied?

Christmas.

2010-01-12T16:56:00.009Z

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.

apologies! update:

2009-12-18T20:42:00.005Z

First, I'd like to apologise for neglecting you all! I'm in awe if all you bloggers still managing to regularly post in the run up to Christmas, I'm finding it impossible! December is sort of busy for us at the best of times (both mine and Boy's birthdays, plus HID and my anniversary) then throw into the mix two under twos, one of which is attached to the breast 90% of the time, and then a scary hospital stay with said littlest one, it's been blogland to the back burner! I've only just got the Christmas decorations up, latest ever I think. Thank you to everyone who sent get well wishes to Missis, she is doing fairly well, still coughing, it's a slow thing.

Avid readers may be aware that Missis is exceptionally tiny, I'm well used to strangers asking me if she was premature when they find out her age, and looking bemused when they discover she was average weight at birth. Well, I had her weighed just before she fell ill (well, she had her mild cold at that point) and she was 8lb7, and I was told to return in two weeks, to be on the safe side. I would usually refuse, but she is tiny, and better safe than sorry. But then she got ill, and didn't feed as much. Well, I didn't need the health visitor telling me she'd lost, most babies do during illness, she seemed fine, so I put it off for three weeks to give her a chance to catch up.

I took her this week, and was a little unsettled to find my friendly breastfeeding volunteer not present; she would have been my back up person when the hv's started on their weight/formula rant.....so before I'd even got Missis undressed, I'm making my excuses: "she had a cold, it was a chest infection, antibiotics, hospital two nights, nebuliser, x-rays, bronchioloitis, she will have lost probably..." on and on I blabbed. Well, the scales told a different story, a story I knew, in reality, to be true, one of a healthy, happy Missis. She had put on a whole pound! She hadn't even wavered off her curve. She's almost four months old now, and many babies weigh more than her 9lb7 when they are born. I decided to get out Boy's little red (childhood development) book and have a look at his weight at that age.

I know I can't make direct comparisons, as in our area, there are new weight charts now, with the curves based on breastfed and not formula fed babies, which works for us. Plus, even brothers and sisters, no matter how alike they seem, are not the same person. At the same age, Boy weighed 13lb4, so a lot heavier, bear in mind he was combine fed from 4 weeks, and exclusively formula fed at 4 months. But looking at the newborn stage, Boy dropped so much weight, he fell through four centiles. Missis only ever fell one. Yes, it took her ages to regain her birthweight, but now she's doing so well. I've been asked to return again in two or three weeks, but I'm not sure if I will. I know what a healthy baby looks like. I don't have a lot of time on my hands now I have two under twos, and it's such a hassle dragging two tots to the health centre. She will grow at her own pace, she's a little dot, but she's perfect.

In other news, I turned 25 a few days ago. I was ready to let it pass by unnoticed. It's not that I mind getting older, I really don't have much opinion on the matter, it's just that I have no interest in birthdays now I have children. People ask me what I want, I only want things for them. And it's so close to Christmas, my head is filled with making their Christmases great. But my mum wanted to do something.

She had a great idea, taking the children to a soft play area! She invited my cousin who has a 6m old, and I invited some friends I'd made via Boy, who both handily have children Boy's age. Mum and I took turns holding a sleeping Missis, and running round playing and having fun with Boy and his little friends. It was a different kind of birthday, but the mother I am today loved it, it was my idea of a fun afternoon. Plus, it snowed! Can't ask for more on your birthday eh?

Shhhh!

2009-12-17T08:21:00.000Z

Sick Child

2009-12-03T20:12:00.003Z

My twelve week old daughter has had a cold for three weeks. Last week, on Sunday morning, the emergency doctor said she had a chest infection, the antibiotics for which ended a week later. Within 24hrs, her breathing had deteriorated, and while at a lecture with her in a sling on my chest, I was no longer happy and called the emergency doctor again. This was 10pm, and by 11pm I was struggling to keep my voice steady as a friendly red-headed doctor at the local children's ward told me my tiny baby needed an x-ray to rule out pneumonia. HID was at home with Boy, I was all alone, and frightened for her and terrified of my own responsibility.

Her chest concaved under her ribs with every laboured breath. Her paler-than-usual skin was mottled and her eyes were red with huge dark circles. I looked at her and cursed myself for not bringing her sooner. The main reason I started to worry was that she'd stopped fighting. Not crying when she was put down, or during nappy changes, or putting on her coat, it just wasn't like her!

Monday night: I held her and fed her while she endured test after test, finally at 3am, they showed us to a side room, it could be contagious bronchilolitis (not bronchitis, my Boy had it a few times, once at 6m old which warranted an overnight stay in hospital). They put her tiny, wheezing body into a huge metal cot and put up a parents' bed for me. Again, she failed to complain, up til now, the strong willed little lady had only ever slept alone (with no one touching her, i.e. not in a sling or right beside me in bed) for twenty minutes, and never knowingly. For the next three hours, I lept up at every cough, stir and constant beep of her sats monitoring machine which went off every time her heart rate peaked or her oxygen levels dipped. Beep, beep, beep, all night. I comforted her the best way I knew how, I put her to the breast. Oddly, the staff began to record whenever I fed her, and duration or each feed.

The x-ray showed a shadow on her lung, a partial lung collapse. The doctor found a heart murmur too, apparently minor, but horrible to hear. She needed nebulisers every 8hrs, a scary and loud oxygen mask with inhaler-type drugs to widen her airways. I tried to ensure she was deeply sleeping or on the breast, with her big blue eyes wide in surprise at the loud noise next to her ear. It wasn't easy to feed her with a wire attached to her foot, or change her nappy, and I couldn't even walk around the small room swaying her as I would comfort her at home, and putting her in the sling wasn't an option either. I think I needed the sling more than she did. I hated holding her over my arm while she coughed until she was sick.

On Tuesday morning, I congratulated myself for keeping an emergency bag in the boot of my car with a selection of nappies, vests and babygrows, for both babies. I didn't however have such emergency items for myself, so I rang HID and asked him to bring a few things, a breastpump included, as Missis wasn't taking as much as usual and I had a few blocked milk ducts. The last thing I needed was mastitis, and the nurses didn't seem to understand why I needed to express, they were talking about supplementing Missis with the expressed milk. I was more than happy with the way she was feeding, which was almost as normal, pretty good considering she was struggling to breathe, but they still insisted in recording every feed (well, every one they saw, I certainly wasn't wasting my time writing down feeds when I could have been sleeping.)

The hospital's feeding specialist arrived with a breastpump just before HID did and cut to the chase.

"I don't know what people have been telling you, but you just need to breastfeed your daughter. The doctors sometimes get nervous when they can't see how much is going in, but you need to ignore them, you know best."

This woman and I were on the same page. I explained about my mastitis worries, and she showed me how the pump worked, apologising that none of the equipment was sterile, meaning we would have to throw the milk away. I saved it in a sippy cup for Boy, who is old enough not to worry about sterile stuff. The specialist and I laughed at the irony of expressing into a cow&gate glass bottle, since the medela one had gone missing, and joking "it's as bad as eating a nestle chocolate bar!", she really was great.

While she was there, HID arrived with Boy in a sling on his back. I was pretty sure that no visitors other than parents were allowed, the nurses must have missed him up on Daddy's back, but gosh was I glad to see a little ray on sunshine in that dark and sad room. He spent half an hour cheerfully shouting "beeeee!" whenever Missis' heart and oxygen monitor went off, tripping over wires, jumping on my bed, pointing to my elongated nipple in my breast pump, and drawing on the sheets with a rogue crayon in the nappy bag.

Soon after, they left owing to small boys and confined spaces and the things that happen. I busied myself with basic tasks whenever Missis didn't need me, which wasn't often, like eating, or brushing my teeth, or, heartbreakingly, nipping to the loo. This involved leaving her to power walk as fast as possible off the ward to the parent's toilets, weeing at breakneck speed, and then the agonising wait at the intercom while the nurses find time to let you back on to the secure ward, all the while, hoping she wasn't awake, crying, in distress, or god forbid, had taken a turn for the worse in my short-as-possible absence.

That night, bronchiolitis was the confirmed diagnosis, and we were moved out of our private room to a contagious bronchi-ward, with three other sick babies. They were all much older, much sicker, and much louder. But the mums were the loudest. All I wanted to do at 7pm was sleep, but the mums just chatted and chatted. I suppose after 9 days (which is long they had been in) they had become institutionalised to a certain extent, it was like being in university halls. I didn't fit in there either. I was amazed how often their sick and crying babies were scolded and told things like "stop being silly now!" and left in their cots to cry. I hated putting Missis down even for a second, even when she was sleeping or contented. They all watched their individual tv's, and looked at me strangely for not wanting mine on.

It was here I learned from another mum I was receiving free hospital meals because I was breastfeeding, god bless the nhs. That night, I ignored the cot and fed Missis in bed with me and slept with her, having to sit up to feed from my left side as her wires would not stretch that far. The nurses tried to make me put her down, but she was getting better and was having none of it. I was too tired to sit in the chair to feed, I was afraid I'd drop her. But the nurses were convinced her high heart rate was due to bedsharing, even though each time I put her down, it rocketed and her oxygen levels dipped. We both got much more sleep on Tuesday night.

I was convinced we'd be allowed home, the other mums kept talking about their babies being "off oxygen" for however many hours was the key to going home, Missis had never needed any! Sure enough, we were discharged by 3pm with an inhaler.

At 9pm last night, I was re-packing my bag as she seemed to deteriorate, but it was a false alarm, and now her only symptom is a cough that will last a month. The relief is indescribable. And I caught up on my sleep no problem. The worst thing about the whole experience was not having HID with me. He had to care for Boy in my absense. But when Boy was laying in that hospital cot, all those months ago, I had HID by my side to make me strong, and this week I had to find that strength all by myself. I missed him so much.

Bargain Bin

2009-11-25T13:19:00.002Z

It's always worth riffling through the "reduced" section in supermarkets. Yesterday, I sent HID to the local establishment for milk and he came home with the following:
a packet of expensive shortbread biscuits
a Christmas tin of Cadbury's biscuits
a Christmas tin of Fox's biscuits
a box of Ferrero Rochers
all of which were in quite battered packaging, but crucially, not in the least bit battered inside, even the shortbreads.
Guess how much???
15p!
Fifteen of your finest pence each. He will be getting sent out for milk more often.

Toddler:English Dictionary

2009-11-23T20:40:00.002Z

After my previous post, I'm pleased to report that things are improving and I'm able to spend more time "mothering" my Boy, as Missis feeds less often and for less time, and is even getting better at sleeping on her own for short (30 mins) periods of time. I'm hoping it's a developmental milestone and not the chest infection she currently has. So today, we finger painted on brown parcel paper (used) to make Christmas wrapping paper, and played dress up, and "watered" the plants in the garden, not that they need it. Yesterday we baked, made dens and played rough and tumble together. It's been pretty special for me, I haven't done much of this fun stuff in ages. My little boy is growing so fast, I want to remember everything he does. So here is our toddler-to-English dictionary, it's taken me a while to get to this stage, I'm usually the last one to notice the jibberish he just uttered was a string of words!

Mi-mi: my favourite; "Mummy"
Ooooo, eeets daaa: oooh, it's dark (this applies if someone switches a light off. Or on for that matter)
(shouted) BUBU!: bubbles!
boooo!: either as in peekaboo, or as in poo, stinky socks/shoes
sheeese: cheese
sheeeese: please
ishhhhh: fish
shoooow: soap
aaaah: hands, as in, wash hands
eye: ice, while pointing to his eye. Which is apparently in the back of his head.
bee bee: car horn noise
um: humph, that loveable little monster on nick jr
ba ba: peppa, as in peppa pig. This used to be "peppa". Not sure why we regressed.
AAAAH!: meaning dinasaur, monster, tiger, lion or other scary things.
ow, ow: can we go out? can I get out of my highchair/bath/cot?
pop!: popping bubbles
row row: round and round, said while spinning to make himself dizzy, or singing wheels on the bus.
mo-mo: I want more. Of the food I was having, drink I was drinking, song we were singing, game we were playing.
No: meaning no
No: meaning I'm in the mood to say no and I haven't listened. Even when you say "would you like some chocolate?"
Di-Di: digger or similar
*kissing noise*: I want my dummy
*patting the side of my head* (tired sign): I want my blanket
*waving my right hand*: sign for yes; he made this up, I'd prefer just a nod!
*pointing to my mouth while going "Eeee! Eeee!"* : I want something to eat.
*fist bashed on my chin* : please or thank you

Things I wish I hadn't said today

2009-11-17T20:27:00.002Z

No
Careful!
No
That is not a toy
No
Cars aren't for throwing
No
Don't throw balls at the TV!
No
Hurry up, your sister is crying
No
Can it wait?
No
Later
No
We have to go home now
No
Shush
No
In a minute
No
Mind that!
No
Don't stand on her!

Hoping tomorrow to replace some of these with the following:
What do you want to do?
Let's have a cuddle
Yes, I'd love to
She's asleep what shall we do now?!
Shall we go out?
Shall we dance?
Let's do a jigsaw
Can we read a book?
Let's colour!

Update;appologies!

2009-11-11T07:42:00.004Z

I've not posted in a while. I addressed my blog/life balance and decided now that I'm driving again I'd like to get out and do more activities during the day, and slob about watching telly in the evenings!

At the beginning of last week, we had some wonderful news; my friends Faye and Liam won the competition to have their dream wedding totally paid for!!! I was over the moon, but I was pretty confident they would, as the last leg of the competition was won on votes, essentially a popularity contest, and as they are such lovely people, they have lots of lovely friends that bent over backwards promoting the cause! Thank you to all my readers who voted, you helped make it happen.

I had a busy week preparing to sell at our local NCT sale, I really wasn't sure I'd get all the ironing and labels and forms done in time with two babies around. I almost decided not to go to my cousin's virgin v party on Friday night because of it, but when I told my sister and HID, they both offered to take charge of childcare when they finished their working week so that I could finish off, and Missis fell asleep at just the right time in the sling for a few hours, so we pulled it off in the end. HID dropped it all off on the Saturday morning and I had forgotten one of the forms, but he fudged it on the spot and it was ok. We left any unsold items to be donated to charity, so it's sort of like a lucky dip now, we don't know how much we sold until the cheque arrives in the post!

I did get to the party on Friday but I wish I hadn't bothered. I didn't buy anything. I'd taken Missis along, and spent a chunk of the evening feeding her, and I was made to feel pretty uncomfortable doing so. First, repeated suggestions I should go somewhere more suitable, i.e. away from embarrassed (female only!) eyes. I worked out where she could have sent me. Her older daughter's cabin bed (up a ladder with a new baby?!), a hard dining chair next to an open back door the smokers were crowded around, actually outside in her garden somewhere with their huge dog (on a November night), the loo with the seat down, or my car parked outside the spar. I was sat on the sofa. Needless to say , I didn't move. Then cries of "Is she STILL feeding??? Isn't it BORING for you??" (no, I actually like it) and most strange of all, when Missis cried (as all babies sometimes do) actually offering to make up a bottle of formula for her. I felt so undermined. Embarrassed and small. It's so odd that something that used to be so normal and natural is now viewed as something almost shameful. And certainly weird.

On Saturday, I attended the Breastfeeding Network's annual general meeting as a breastfeeding helper-in-training. They were more relaxed about feeding in public :-) Boy was booked into the creche to treat Daddy to another day off, but the previous day he'd come back from babygroup with a gammy eye, and no doubt the creche workers would have taken one look at him and turned us away, so he stayed at home. As it happens, it was the same creche company as the one he mysteriously HATES when I attend training on Fridays, and since it's so unlike him (he loves new people & places) I've stopped taking him and he goes to my mums. Chances are, he would have refused point blank to go with the horribly familiar creche ladies anyway!

"Babes in arms" are always welcome at BFN events, but Missis is so tiny and the only one not in creche, so she was kind of the star of the show! I couldn't move for gooey ladies asking me her age. I only knew a few people so it was a great way to get chatting. I carried her in the sling, and when we made it into the lecture theatre she was sleeping, and stayed that way until the first break! The ladies behind me later remarked she was so good, they didn't even realise I HAD a baby until I started feeding her after the break! She only cried once the whole day, and no one minded at all. I'd even taken a small cushion with me so I could feed more comfortably, it was great, everyone was so supportive (as you would expect!)

Outside agencies came and delivered lectures on various topics such as the new weight charts based on breastfed babies, and how they won't solve every bf baby weight issue but they are more realistic and parent-friendly at least. We met the "star buddies" who had been providing peer support in and out of Blackpool hospital wards up to 8 weeks of age, reducing breastfeeding drop off rates from 75% to just 20% in their ladies (amazing!). The scheme had recently been reviewed, and comments had been taken from mothers and midwives, collated with photographs of nursing mums and set to music (M-people, "Proud", you know, "what have you done today to make you feel proud?") in a slide show. Well, it was unbelievably emotive, all the issues are still so raw for me with Missis being so tiny, it all happened so recently. The power of the words of thanks and praise alongside music and pictures brought many to tears. And I did feel proud. Proud to have joined such an ethical and independent organisation where I'll soon have the opportunity to help women just like me to give their baby the best start in life. Proud to be part of the Nestle Boycott, about which I'll post another time. Proud of myself for wanting to breastfeed second time around after a horrible first experience, and (so far) making a success of it.

But what touched me most was the section about breastmilk banks. Human milk is literally life saving to some premature infants who cannot digest formula and need all the antibodies they can get to survive, which are only present in breastmilk. In fact, I learned that formula is way down the line of choices of food for a prem baby, medically speaking, it goes something like this: the mother's own breastmilk, suckled from the breast, the mothers own breastmilk, fed in a different way, but freshly expressed, the mother's own breastmilk, frozen then given, donor milk, formula.

The United Kingdom Association for Milk Banking is a registered charity that supports human milk banking in the UK.

Their motto is Every Drop Counts and they believe that the provision of safe and screened donor breastmilk makes an important contribution to the care of the premature and sick infants who receive it.

They give practical support to the milk bank staff who co-ordinate the provision of donor breastmilk for premature babies and share expertise and good practice with milk banks and with breastmilk donors.

UKAMB is reliant on membership for most of its income and recently Trustees have been looking at ways to increase its sources of financial support. A special £10 per year membership fee (reduced from £25 per year) for Professional members (ie midwives, neonatal nurses, lactation consultants, neonatologists etc) was agreed at the AGM in November. However despite a concerted effort to gain new members at the BFI conference in Glasgow, only 2 new people joined.

In an attempt to attract financial support from the wider public, UKAMB has signed up to the Justgiving scheme. This enables individual supporters to raise money on behalf of the charity by attracting sponsorship for a particular event or simply by sending a donation. If the donor is a UK tax payer, the fees for the scheme are deducted from the tax that charities can claim back ie that has already been paid by the donor to the Inland Revenue.

UKAMB urges all supporters to encourage family and friends to help them raise the funds that are needed. Their support for milk banks is dependent upon more income being generated. Please go to www.justgiving.com/ukamb to help UKAMB continue to ensure that Every Drop Counts.

UKAMB were being given some financial support by the company Medela, that makes breast pumps and other paraphernalia. However, Medela has recently broken the World Health Organisation (WHO) code for the prohibition of promoting bottles and teats (which would undermine breastfeeding), and so the tiny UKAMB has bravely and ethically said goodbye to a big financial ally. This bravery should be applauded and valued. I have asked HID to buy me a membership for Christmas. I hope you too will support this wonderful charity that helps women save babies lives. On the website,not only can you become a member, but you can make a one off donation, fundraise, or buy gifts or merchandise. Christmas is coming!

Halloween Celebrations II

2009-11-01T15:48:00.005Z

We had a lovely day yesterday. A lovely visit to play at my cousin's house with her son, then off to a children's halloween party to consume our weight in e-numbers til tea-time. All without HID, so he could have a relaxing day out on his motorbike. I'm not sure he realises how much hard work it was sacrificing a precious weekend day when I could be resting or getting help with Boy from him.....he will when Missis is finally old enough to go more than 45 minutes without needing nursing, and I send him off with them for a few hours! Then he will know, mwahahaha!

Here is my happy helper, we've just popped our pumpkin fairy cakes in the oven for the part later!

Yes, even the batter is delectable, every last scrap mustn't be wasted.

In his pirate costume!

Boy's little friend who's party it was. "I'm a cat!" she kept saying to anyone who would listen.

Playing in the haunted house!

Hallowe'en Celebrations

2009-10-26T06:24:00.009Z

This post is joining in the fun at Violet Posy's Hallowe'en Party!

Pumpkin cake (adapted from a recipe in Asda's magazine a few years ago.)

10 oz plain flour
3 tablespoons wheat bran (if desired)
2tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp ground cloves
4oz butter
70z soft brown sugar
2 large eggs
300g pumpkin puree (to make, see below)
7oz mixed dried fruit (we used a mix of chopped apricots, cranberries, raisins and candied peel.
3oz chopped walnuts
one large carrot, grated
2oz pumpkin seeds

for the icing;
(quantities vary)
icing sugar
juice of half an orange
2 tablespoons butter
grated zest of one orange

to make the pumpkin puree;
300g is approximately half a medium-sized carving pumpkin that you can get in tescos
If using the pumpkin for carving too, scoop out the seeds and pulp, then be prepared to spend a good while scraping out the good flesh with a spoon, until there is only about 1/2 a centimeter left to the outside skin. Use about 3/4 of this (you can weigh to check later) and boil until soft. Drain, cool and blend.
If not using the pumpkin to carve, cut in half, reserve one half for another dish (or use all to make puree and freeze half to make more pumpkin cake when it is out of season.) cut the half into wedges (8ths) and roast in a hot oven for around 20mins. They should look like the ones in the picture.Cool, and scoop out the seeds and pulp. Peel off the skin and boil the chopped flesh for 5mins. Drain, cool and blend.

To use the rest of your pumpkin, check out these pumpkin recipes: Slugs on the Refrigerator & Being a Mummy

for the cake;

oven to 180C/160C fan/gas 4 & grease two baking tins.

get somebody small to help beat the butter & sugar together, then beat in the eggs one at a time. (pick out the shards of shell because you needed "help" to break the eggs.)

sift the flour, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda, spices and bran together (don't worry that it was more like two tablespoons of cinnamon when toddler got hold of it, I'm sure it will taste fine), and fold into the mixture gradually. Or all at once if you're 22 months old.

add the fruit, seeds, nuts (and eat a few and spill most of them on the worktop and some on the floor for good measure) carrot and puree.

pour into the tins & bake for 40 mins.

href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E40iszB4jCc/SuURJNnkZdI/AAAAAAAAAaY/Pi36tu6qL78/s1600-h/pumpkin3.JPG">

For the icing;

sift the icing sugar, then add half the grated rind & the juice, & the butter & beat.

use to sandwich the halves together with the mixture, then decorate the top with the rest, and the rind, or some walnuts or pumpkin seeds.

As you can see from the pictures, I had some batter left over & made a few cupcakes too. These work well as cupcakes, as you can decorate each one differently.

And here is Boy's hallowe'en costume! I customized a stripy, nautical style top, and made a simple belt for round a pair of cut off jeans, and made a bandanna! I procured the fabric from Natalie at Sophie 4 Sophie, isn't it fab??

Kids Rooms website Review

2009-10-23T13:02:00.006Z

Life time pink garden bed href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E40iszB4jCc/SuGp2iu37aI/AAAAAAAAAZY/mo8jWYiwxXk/s1600-h/tree+house+bed">
Tree house bed

Verada Playroom furniture

Rainbow PR has asked me to take a look at www.kidsrooms.co.uk in order to introduce it to my readers.
At first glance, it seemed just another expensive children's furniture company from which I'd love to buy but is just way out of my budget. So I clicked the link to the discounted products, something I often do on these types of sites, expecting to find a few crappy lamp shades etc, but there were loads of much more affordable items! This warmed me to them instantly, and I continued to browse :-)

The furniture on offer isn't only pretty unique, but is marketed upon its durability and lasting qualities, which as mummy to a "spirited" Boy, would definitely be something I'd look for. Above, I've put on a few pictures of younger boy & girl's bedroom, aren't they gorgeous?? I'd never seen anything like that tree house bed, usually boys don't get the exciting choices, it's all pretty and cool stuff for girls and boring things for boys, so that really impressed me.

They also do some very grown-up, funky and stylish bedrooms for teens, I think you'd find something for even the fussiest teenager. What I liked about all the bedroom sections (boy, girl, teen) there were many unisex styles, it's not all pink for girls and blue for boys, which is so dull.

The site also offers a range of nursery, playroom and waiting room (yes I wondered too, you know those huge activity centres in clinic waiting rooms? It's those) furniture. Pictured above is a playroom set, which is actually made by a fair trade company, so you don't need to feel guilty about your extravagant purchases :-). The toys are also just lush. We will soon be decorating Boy's room in a pirate theme, which they do, so I may well be placing an order for some swash-buckling duvet covers!

While you're here, please vote for Faye & Liam to win their dream wedding. It's a sad day, as today would have been their wedding day, so please help them win it back. Read more on the story here.

Get Voting!

2009-10-22T08:12:00.004Z

There is just over a week left to vote for my friend Faye for her dream to come true. You can make dreams come true with just one click! Below is the original post for those who didn't read it last time. Above I've added some photos of a day over the summer we spent in her garden, while she insisted on playing with and running round after the children all day because I was pregnant. Faye is quite poorly again and spending lots of time in bed trying to get better. Regardless of this fact, last week, she organised herself and her toddler a lift (she doesn't drive and it's a 20min car journey) to come and see the new baby. She brought all her daughter's stunning baby clothes for Missis to wear, a homemade vegetarian lasagna, a warm loaf of fresh bread, two pints of milk from the farm near her house and a carrot cake. And she stayed and played with Boy all afternoon, while I fed the baby. She's such a good friend and a wonderful person. Please vote for her and hubby to be, they really deserve it. You can vote once a day. Faye informed me yesterday that the other brides-to-be are putting up a fight! So please help us fight back!

Here is the post, with the link to vote at the bottom.

Right guys, today, I'm going to boost your good karma. Here is your good deed for the day. My wonderful friend Faye fell seriously ill last year, and spent months in and out (but mostly in) hospital. She has a daughter who is the same age as Boy, (around 20m), and she missed her desperately, as she's such a devoted mother. She even, heartbreakingly, was in hospital at her daughter's first Christmastime. As a result, her wedding, due to happen this month, was canceled, and their deposits lost. The rest of their savings were eaten up by paying household bills etc, while her husband-to-be took much time off work to care for her and their little girl. Her health is still extremely questionable, but she does all she can to fight it and stay at home being the most wonderful mother she can be to her girl, they adore each other. She and Liam, her husband-to-be, have been entered into a radio competition to win a wedding! Venue, flowers, food, everything! However, she needs votes to win. That's where you come in! I'd consider it a personal favor if you were to click here and vote Faye & Liam. You can do this once a day, til 30th October. (when you read the blurb on her, you will notice she has toned down how seriously ill she is. That's because she doesn't like to complain, and she's a wonderful person, and would want everyone else to have a chance too.) I was also tempted to run a competition, asking you to put the link on your blogs/facebook statuses as entry, offering some lovely prize, but I didn't want it to be construed as cheating by the radio station, so I guess if you wanted to do that, it would be out of the goodness of your heart. But wouldn't it make you feel great to do something so nice?! Please vote Faye & Liam!

Award overload

2009-10-21T19:43:00.009Z

I've not been saving these up honestly! They all arrived sort of at once after Missis was born and I hadn't got round to doing them until now. So instead of following the rules rigidly, I'm going to pass these on to five blogs I've come to love, some recently,others classics on my google reader, and tell you why. And each blogger can pick their award or take the trio, because I think all the blogs below are swank/bloody brilliant/I love them!

First, World of a Mummy awarded me the I Love your Blog! award, which if I were playing properly, would be passed on to 15 blogs. And she's to take her pick from the two below! She's currently baby-led-weaning her youngest, like I did with Boy (and plan to with Missis) and she's recently shared a fab recipe for homemade chicken nuggets!

Then Laura at Yummy Mummy Flabby Tummy; gave me the Your Blog is Bloody Brilliant award, which is to be passed on to 5 blogs. And I love Laura's blog and also think it's Swank, so take your pick Laura. I feel like I have an awful lot in common with Laura at the moment, our children are quite similar in age and she too is struggling to keep a toddler entertained while she breastfeeds the baby....chin up eh Laura??

Finally, Clare at Clareybabbling; awarded me the Your Blog is Swank! award, I love that word! And I couldn't see any clear rules to that one, so I suppose I'm off the hook there. Clare recently had some issues with extended breastfeeding, an issue I feel strongly about (i.e. women shouldn't be ashamed to feed their children, however old hey might be) I hope it all worked out for her!

So here are the blogs I think are fabulous:
Fellow babywearer Steph Adventures in Babywearing. Read about and see pictures of the daring rescue after her son's beloved doggy fell into the river recently.
Crafty Creative at From Rat Racer to Positive Parent. You must check out her post on the 2010 breastfeeding calendar for Rugby breastfeeding cafe, such gorgeous pictures of yummy feeding mummies.
Insomniac Mummy who wrote a beautifully touching post last week about her mother's death.
Josie at Sleep is for the Weak, she's another fellow babywearer! (there are more of you out there than I thought :-) ) I met the lovely Josie recently and marveled at how similar our boys are. She's just started her very own Writing Workshop (not that she needs it with her perfect prose) and she wants everyone to know about it!
Iota at Not Wrong, Just Different., who has my utmost admiration for doing a daily post for 30 days and counting now! And it's all quality stuff, no padding with rubbish!

Newborn Tetanus

2009-10-21T19:31:00.004Z

Jane at Online Mum tagged me with this to raise awareness for newborn tetanus. Now, disposable nappies isn't a product I'd normally use, as we're very eco-conscious in our house, but with a tiny newborn and a 22 month old, the terries have been sidelined for the moment, and while we have been using eco-disposables on our big Boy, they are jut to big for Missis yet and we have actually been using Pampers. And,lets be honest, SOD the nappies, because this is a very worthwhile cause. I didn't get round to it at first, but I couldn't let it pass me by.

This year alone 128000 babies won’t see their 1st birthday because of newborn tetanus.

The Gift of Life rules

1 Open the virtual Gift For Life by going here
2 Write a small post on the campaign
3 Pass on to 5 other bloggers
4 Add the campaign badge to your sidebar (I'm really not sure I know how to do this....tips appreciated)
5 Feel incredibly proud that you are helping to make a difference!

I am passing the Gift of Life on to:
Clare at clareybabbling
world of a mummy

Laura at yummy mummy flabby tummy
Crafty Creative at From Rat Racer To Positive Parent
Cave Mother

NCT goodies

2009-10-20T20:48:00.015Z

I attended my first ever NCT nearly new sale recently, it was great! It was sort of like a car boot sale, but organised, which I loved, and with (obviously) just baby gear. As much fun as car boot sales are, you have to wade through tonnes of crap to find what you're looking for. There were many "alternative" items for sale, lots of slings and cotton nappies, you wouldn't see them at your standard car boot. When it said on the flyer "only quality items", I didn't believe it til I saw it, but it's true.

Not only does a percentage of the profits go to to the NCT charity (a cause I believe in, as in our modern culture it isn't mother, aunties and sisters teaching us to breastfeed, it's unpaid organisations like the NCT. I found these invaluable) but there were bargains galore!!

A crisp £50 note (ok, five tens) saw me leaving with the following:

two copies of Annabel Karmel's toddler meal planner, great recipes even for baby led weaners. One for me, one for a BLW friend.

a pair of clark's in the next size for Boy

a pair of winter boots in this size for Boy

pirate PJs for Boy

two bambino mio nappy covers for Missis

a rainbow coloured fleece nappy cover for Boy

a new nappy bag in brown and pink with lots of accessories

a box of breastmilk storage bags

an 18-36m gro-bag for Boy with spaceship of it

an array of stunning gypsy-style baby girl clothes from companies like mini-mode and monsoon, places I'd never be able to afford to shop in usually. I'm more of a George (asda) Cherokee (tesco) kind of girl.

And now that we know Missis is a girl, we have a tonne of boy's clothes I've lovingly saved that we no longer need (well, jeans, vests and pjs can be saved & possibly jazzed up with a little customization) I'm even thinking of registering as a seller for the next one, since ebay is a bit of a hassle, paying to list items and having to post stuff off, and to give it all to the charity shop seems very generous!! This is a great middle ground, 25% of anything we make goes straight to the NCT, and I don't have to get up at 6am (voluntarily) and freeze my ass of at a carboot where there's not guarantee I'd even shift any of it.

Here are some of our "quality" items;

a moses basket saved for Missis who spends approx 30 secs asleep in it before waking when put down. By the time she's learned to self-soothe, she'll be too big for it.

a mamas&papas highchair that is IMPOSSIBLE to clean and impractical in a variety of other ways, but very funky.

an as-new pushchair. Slings ROCK!

more items of clothing than Mariah Carey has in her walk-in, in various shades of blue. Many were gently used donations from friends or presents from family.

a set of walkie-talkies, I mean baby monitors. Our babies are LOUD.

some pregnancy manuals. I read them to death last time, never even opened them this time!

too small nursing bras

three pairs of maternity jeans that I couldn't pass on to my pregnant cousin as she's nearly a foot taller than little old me!

pop up travel cot

c-section soother belt: bought off ebay, never used

Since I started drafting this post, I have registered as a seller! There are some pretty strict rules so that quality can be maintained at the sale. Such as; I can only sell 100 items, a maximum of 30 being clothes, which must be ironed (!! they never ave been before!!) and on hangers. Then there's the tags! Cereal-box cardboard, a certain size, with secret codes & info galore, attached with safety pin or string; NO sticky labels! Hopefully I'll have time to sort all that out before next weekend....my back room looks like a jumble sale!

House Rules

2009-10-20T14:05:00.006Z

This post was written for Josie's Writing Workshop at Sleep is for the Weak, inspired by Potty Mummy's own House Rules. Leave your own suggestion for a house rule in the comments box!

The management states that personal hygiene is not an optional extra; baths and teeth brushing WILL occur daily. Nappy changes more often.

The management will not tolerate changing the sofa covers more than once a week, no matter what you spill on it.

The management reserves the right to secretly move "lights out" forward by 30 minutes when she's JUST HAD ENOUGH.

The management reminds guests that under the chairs/sofa is not a secret hiding place for various bits of small toys.

The management will not tolerate the throwing of items other than balls. Especially at the TV.

The management strongly encourages bib-wearing at all mealtimes. Or just all times. Or you will be doing your own washing.

The management states for the record that the TV is a TV and not a Peppa Pig fest 24/7, for the sanity of other guests, channels may be occasionally changed, or turned off all together.

The management will take this opportunity to ask where the hell is the cordless phone? (Possibly under the sofa.)

The management offers a set menu, not a la carte, if you don't like it, you shall have to lump it. The throwing of food/cutlery/crockery etc. is not tolerated, see above.

The management offers a later breakfasting time on a weekend. Will she ever be taken up on her offer???

The management reserves the right to drink hot toddies with a splash of Southern Comfort in the place of cold/flu remedies, which are not breast-feeding friendly, from 4pm. No, you can't have any. Yes, she has EXACTLY THE SAME cold as you, she is just much braver.

The management reminds other staff members that while x-box is an optional extra for you, her showering and completing physio excerises is compulsory, and would appreciate you taking over sans the attitude. She's had enough of that *sigh* when she asks.

The managment states, yet again, that the following items are inedible; books, coins, parts of old cheerios under the sofa, the cat, her phone, shoes, pebbles, I could go on....

The management reserves the right to win the "I'm more tired than you" game, every time it is played with other staff members.

The management reserves the right to use the TV as a babysitter when you all insist on getting up at 3am so she can write this post half asleep instead of playing JCBs half asleep. Damn wintery mornings, fooling you.

The management begs and pleads that all staff members (including grandparents) enforce these rules.

Just let me breastfeed in peace!

2009-10-15T11:32:00.006Z

Having two "spirited" children under two is tough going, no matter which way you look at it. Evenings-through-mornings seem to be the hardest. Typically: toddler wrestled into bed around 7pm. Hubby to make tea, which I eat one-handed, whilst newborn cluster-feeds til 9-10ish. Get up to feed 4ish times, with one feed, around 2am, being very fussy (i.e. requiring me to fully wake up) and lasting over an hour. Toddler wakes for milk/cuddle around 5am. Hubby leaves for work 6.30am. One of the babies wakes up around 7, and I hope the other doesn't wake for another ten minutes! If toddler is first to wake, he is left to chatter in his cot while I race to wash and dress; teeth and hair can be done with newborn in the sling later on if needs be. If Missis is first up, it's a bit more challenging, but she can sometimes be convinced to look at her mobile for up to five minutes. Now, both babies need nappies changing before they leak and feeding before they cry (more loudly than they inevitably already are). It's basically a judgment call on which child can be made to wait. I don't like it, but I try to be fair. A wonderful peace-keeper in these newborn days is the TV. Imagine my horror when I come downstairs to find it broken, and a small boy who is convinced it's perfectly fine and Mummy is just mean. Top it off with colds for all three of us, which means toddler woke 4+ times in the night, and all newborn's feeds were fussy. Or, doing a much harder job, on less sleep, when you're not well yourself.

Nevertheless, I managed to get us all fed and dressed for 9.30am to wait for our lift to breastfeeding support group. My mum arrives to drive us there. We chat in the car. She had visited her friend the previous day who has a ("good") baby the same age as Missis. Her friend is recovering well from a natural birth. I had a c-section and am still experiencing SPD pain. Her friend is bottlefeeding, which I feel has nothing to do with anything, and certainly isn't my concern. My mum is very pro-formula, she hated breastfeeding and didn't do it for long. Here we go.

Her; she gave him a bottle and he just slept for three hours!

Me; hmmm. But Boy (formula fed) never did at that age did he? And Missis will do that if she's in the sling.

She asks about our night. I begin to tell her, then;

Her; it was your choice to breastfeed, so don't keep moaning about it!

Me; everyone has unsettled nights with new babies, even if they are bottle fed!

Her; your cousin's (three-month-old formula fed & baby-rice fed) baby slept through very early on!

Me; Boy still doesn't sleep through. It has nothing to do with feeding.

Her; but you'd have so much more time if you gave her a bottle!

Me; Boy had tummy ache & sickness after every feed, and was constipated til we gave cow's milk at 12m! He only went two hours between feeds til he was five months old!

She has conveniently forgotten how much formula disagreed with Boy, we changed brand four times. Truth is, none of them are breastmilk. She also doesn't realise how much washing and sterilizing bottlefeeding a baby that feeds every two hours yeilds. I did so much screwing on of tops, I ended up with painful repetitive strain injury and wore a splint for a year. She's forgotten this too.

Her; well I'm not having you complaining about how tired you are again, it was your choice to breastfeed, I don't want to hear about anything to do with breastfeeding from now on!

At this point, as is often the case with arguments with our parents, I reverted into teenage-mode and decided if I couldn't talk about breastfeeding (which relates to most things with a newborn) I wouldn't talk to her at all.

Apparently, bottlefeeding would fix the TV, cure the common cold, make high-need children able to function without human contact, cure cesarean scars and SPD so I could drive, babysit while I have a shower and quite possibly do all the washing and hoover too. I know breastfed newborns spend A LOT of time at the breast, but soon they get bigger and don't fall asleep while feeding as much. Yes, it's hard learning how, and tiring, and often painful at first, but that doesn't last long, and at this point, I'm not experiencing any real difficulties at all. Formula feeding would make my life easier, at least that's her thinking. Even if that were true (which it isn't, or at least wasn't for us, I've formula fed a child from 4 weeks) that's not the reason behind most of my parenting decisions. I didn't decide to have children for an easy life. My idea is to do all I can to give them the best of everything, not opt out for an easy life. A friend pointed out that it's like me describing to her a lovely, healthy homemade recipe to give Boy and her saying; "oh, just open a jar and give him that." The irony is, that's exactly what she does. She thinks raviolli from a tin is a perfectly healthy and acceptable meal to give a toddler (not a one off, over and over again.)

Her argument; you had raviolli and you're fine

Yes, if you count grossly overweight, addicted to junk food and with no idea how to cook from scratch til I had children fine, then yes, I'm fine.

Her; Boy was formula fed and he's fine.

Yes, if you think having eczema, being hospitalized with asthma and having delayed speech and countless ear infections (all symptoms of not breastfeeding) is fine.

Her; you have eczema and asthma, it's hereditary.

Yes it is. But I was formula fed too, so we'll never know.

For more on the "formula is not fine" point of view, click here. Shocking, but interesting.

So it was a quiet journey home from breastfeeding support group. Well, I'm banned from the topic. And mum was shocked into silence by the image of a woman feeding a three year old. No matter how many times I tell her that the World Health Organization recommends we breastfeed a child for at least two years.

I'm not anti-formula. Hell, it saved my Boy from hospitalization when he was tiny. And however pro-breastfeeding I am now,I can't turn back time for him. But, difficult as breastfeeding was last time, this time it's going really well. In fact, I'm loving it. So why is she so hell-bent on ramming formula down my throat?

P.S. in the photo above I'm wearing my new Mama Feels Good nursing t-shirt. It's fab!

P.P.S. Please click here and vote for my friends Faye & Liam to win their dream wedding. Please!

Cat; free to a good home!

2009-10-15T02:11:00.005Z

This is not something I wanted to do, but recently, we found out that Boy has asthma (he's been hopitalised three times, first aged six months, terrifying) and so the time has come to re-home our cat.

My first thought was to offer her to all my lovely blog readers. Are you little ones nagging you for a pet this Christmas? Here is a little about Maisy.

We adopted Maisy when she was about a year old, which would make her around age seven. But she is still very pertty and playful, the photos don't really do her justice! We chose her because she was very affectionate when we looked round the shelter, and such a gorgeous tabby coat. We think she may have had a troubled start to life, as she sucks her tumb. No joke. When she is happy on your lap, in goes the paw for a good suck.

When we got her, she was chipped, neutered and vaccinated. Since then, we have kept up with flea treatments as a preventative measure, but she's never needed worming, and only visited the vet once, for a swollen cat-bite from the neighbourhood bully, which was resolved with antibiotics.

Maisy is surprisingly tolerant of very young children, and it takes a lot of punishment from Boy for her to relaliate, and she gives warnings apleanty for adult intervention. But I'd love her to retire to a family with older children so she can have a rest from all that. Although we do need a home for her, even if you do have toddlers.

Basics now; she is happy to use either a litter tray or go outside, as per your preference, and is happy to stay out all day or night if you wish her to. But she loves nothing more than a cuddle. She really is a lap cat. She'd be more than happy in a flat for example, as long as she got a bit of attention. She does not have expensive tastes, and refuses all manner of branded catfoods, prefering only supermarket's own in jelly. It doesn't matter which supermarket, she's tried and enjoyed asda, tesco and morrisons.

She travels fairly well, and has visited the Lake District many times. We have all her equipment to accompany her (bowl, carry basket, litter tray etc) so you wouldn't need to buy anything. If you did want Father Christmas to deliver her, we can hang on to her until Christmas eve. It would be ideal if she could be collected from us, unless you are quite close, as the two under twos don't travel quite as well as the cat :-)

We live in the Nort West. Get in touch in the comments box or to allgrownup06@hotmail.com.

Also, while you're reading check out this post for info on how to do your good deed for the day, boost your good karma, and VOTE for my friends Faye & Liam to win their dream wedding!!

Books

2009-10-14T15:13:00.004Z

I was given the opportunity to review some Walker books recently with Boy, and I jumped at the chance, as "We're going on a bear hunt", another Walker book, is one of my favourites, and a modern classic. When "Yummy" by Lucy Cousins arrived in the post, I was bouncing. A gorgeous, hardback book of classic fairy tales, with a Lucy twist. When I was pregnant, Boy and I got a few books from the library about new babies, and by far his favourite was by Lucy Cousins. The thing he liked the most were the wacky, eye-popping, bright illustrations, which are the earmark of "Yummy".

I had a flick through before Boy got home, and was delighted to find some stories I'd not heard since my mother read them to me from a ladybird book, alongside more popular favourites such as Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Shall I shamefully admit that I read the whole thing before tiny hands even got near it?? My favourite aspect of the book was....hee hee, the sheer level of violence. Fairy tales in their original form are often really quite violent, and I love that Lucy Cousins has decided that children should be gently introduced to the fact that the world isn't always kind. It's much easier to learn in a story than a few years down the line out in the real world. Children shouldn't be patronized, as much as innocence is precious. I found it almost comical how shocking some stories are! I don't remember batting an eyelid as a child though. If you have a particularly sensitive child, perhaps this is more of a daytime than bedtime book.

I must admit that we don't make a habit of reading books with paper pages yet in our house, Boy just isn't ready at (a very young) twenty months. Not only do I fear for the books general welfare, (and Yummy is a stunning book, the kind you keep for the grandkids), but he just hasn't got the attention span for me to read what is inevitably much more text per page than a board book, and an altogether longer story. We just about manage the "That's not my..." books, and that's only because I've memorised them and blurt out the text before chubby hands insist on turning the page.

But with "Yummy", there were at least two very short stories that I was actually able to read to Boy! And without much coaxing at all. As you can see from the photo, he was enamored with the pictures. I can't wait until he's a bit older, this is sure to become a bedtime favourite. Well, for me anyway.

While I'm blogging about books, the glowing Amy from and1moremeans4 passed a book meme onto me recently, so I'll give you a two for one dealy. This went round facebook recently too, but the page number was different. Here are the game rules!

1. Collect the book that you have most handy.
2. Turn to page 161.
3. Find the 5Th complete sentence.
4. Site the sentence on your blog.
5. Pass it on to 5 other bloggers.

So here it is, warts and all: try expressing milk from one breast while you feed from the other.
Guess what I'm reading?? Check out my previous review of it.

And I'd like to know what the following bloggers are reading, apologies if you've already had it:

Slugs on the Refridgerator
Josie from Sleep is for the Weak
Cave Mother
Slightly South of Sanity
Natalie from Soph4Soph

Also, while you're reading check out this post for info on how to do your good deed for the day, boost your good karma, and VOTE for my friends Faye & Liam to win their dream wedding!!

A plague on My House

2009-10-12T09:58:00.005Z

This is sort of a continuation of this post. The things that happen when I am no longer around to run the household.

Apparently, while I was living at my mums during the difficult final months of my pregnancy, a bird fell down our chimney and was trapped behind the gas fire. HID did not know how to safely remove the fire, and asked MIL's boyfriend, who did know, to help. This was all forgotten, since no one was spending any time in the living room, and the bird sadly died. (I can assure you, this would not have happened had I been at home. The bird would have been freed as a matter of urgency. I was only told much later.)

Cut to two weeks ago. My precious newborn is just three weeks old. HID and Boy are upstairs taking a nap, and I am effectively all alone feeding the baby on the sofa. I notice a fly on the window and think nothing of it. I am not a crazy fly lady like my mum, who practically keeps fly spray in her handbag, and cannot rest until they are ALL DEAD.

Then there are three. I look at the other window and it is covered with ABOUT TWENTY flies. A large, black beastie dozily buzzes towards me from the direction of the gas fire and it dawns on me. The bird. Presumably, maggots. A nest of flies. A plague. I'm itching as I write this! Cue me turning into my mother.

Baby is deposited into her moses basket and basket covered with an oversize muslin cloth. Ransack the only locked kitchen cupboard for fly spray. Twenty minutes spent leaping around like a woman possessed after every last, dirty fly, worrying about the effect of the aerosol on my daughter's lungs and frequently wafting her around outside.

HID eventually reared his sleepy head while I was brandishing a dustpan and brush to sweep my victims from the windowsills. He was confused. I explained in a wobbly voice, not realising until then what horrors I had seen. I was suitably told off or over-exerting myself and he took over.

The next few days saw a few of the buzzy buggers exiting the chimney in dribs and drabs, despite HID spraying half a can of poison into the hole daily and me nagging him to "sort it out". The best place to breastfeed is on the sofa, next to the fire, so HID set up the hoover next to me (fly spray within reach of me is also within reach of Boy) and much to the bemusement of Boy, Missis and visitors, I zapped the little buzzers into the belly of the hoover as soon as they crawled, wingless and deformed (from all the spray) out of the fireplace. I was the craziest fly lady of them all!!

This was going to be written as a quite light-hearted post, after all, it was over now, and no body got hurt right?

Three days after the initial plague, HID, MIL and her boyfriend were sitting at the table in our open-plan downstairs room eating tea (evening meal to you southerners) while I sat on the sofa eating one-handed, feeding Missis. She was fidgety, and I asked HID to swaddle her for me. He laid her on the rug and wrapped her up. When he picked her up I bolted for the door, there was a huge black fly on her blanket! I shouted at him to get it off but he couldn't see where. I looked to tell him, very panicked now, and saw it was CRAWLING THROUGH HER PERFECT RED HAIR. I jumped around on the spot screeching "it's in her hair!" repeatedly. And then it as ON HER FACE. My perfect newborn baby had a disease-ridden, fat, black fly, that had been crawling around on a rotting bird's carcus (that had been dead for at least three weeks) crawling allover her perfect newborn skin.

I was crazy before, now I just lost it. I was crying, shaking, screaming, hyperventilating; FREAKING OUT. At this point, MIL helpfully said "calm down". If I could have gotten away with murder, she'd have been buried in the back garden that very night. How exactly would she have reacted if it had been her new baby?? Thank god it was not me holding her at the time, I may well have dropped her.

HID stepped up, crushed the fly, rushed Missis into the kitchen and bathed her in the sink. Helped me sit down, brought me rescue remedy and encouraged me to eat my tea. I had lost my appetite somewhat, so I was sent upstairs to feed baby while the men FINALLY removed the bird and the flies. This is the sort of thing that happens when I am not in charge of running the household. MIL leaves next week. *audible sigh of relief* she has also just walked in on me using my breast pump. Again. *scream!*s

Also, while you're reading check out this post for info on how to do your good deed for the day, boost your good karma, and VOTE for my friends Faye & Liam to win their dream wedding!!

Good deed of the day

2009-10-07T18:50:00.007Z

Right guys, today, I'm going to boost your good karma. Here is your good deed for the day. My wonderful friend Faye fell seriously ill last year, and spent months in and out (but mostly in) hospital. She has a daughter who is the same age as Boy, (around 20m), and she missed her desperately, as she's such a devoted mother. She even, heartbreakingly, was in hospital on her daughter's first Christmastime. As a result, her wedding, due to happen this month, was canceled, and their deposits lost. The rest of their savings were eaten up by paying household bills etc, while her husband-to-be took much time off work to care for her and their little girl. Her health is still extremely questionable, but she does all she can to fight it and stay at home being the most wonderful mother she can be to her girl, they adore each other. She and Liam, her husband-to-be, have been entered into a radio competition to win a wedding! Venue, flowers, food, everything! However, she needs votes to win. That's where you come in! I'd consider it a personal favor if you were to click here and vote Faye & Liam. You can do this once a day, til 30th October. (when you read the blurb on her, you will notice she has toned down how seriously ill she is. That's because she doesn't like to complain, and she's a wonderful person, and would want everyone else to have a chance too.) I was also tempted to run a competition, asking you to put the link on your blogs/facebook statuses as entry, offering some lovely prize, but I didn't want it to be construed as cheating by the radio station, so I guess if you wanted to do that, it would be out of the goodness of your heart. But wouldn't it make you feel great to do something so nice?! Please vote Faye & Liam!

MOSI meet up

2009-10-05T18:03:00.004Z

Well, the North West British Mummy Bloggers meet up was yesterday, at the Museum of Science and Industry, and I must say it was great. I was quite nervous beforehand, even had a rush to Mothercare the evening before for a nursing top to give me a bit of confidence (more on the crap mothercare range another time), and, most unlike me, dug out my mascara (it had dried up) and lip gloss to make me look a bit more awake, as Missis had been up every half hour from 2am the night before. I introduced myself, babies and HID by our reals names, most strange, and recognised lots of faces, realising that no-one would recognise me. We made the mistake of choosing a seat a bit too far away from everyone else, so we'd have room for a highchair, wish I'd sat closer to everyone else!

The meal we had included a slice of cake, and unfortunately, the cake was highly visible and tempting to Boy on the tray....his lovely roast dinner was left discarded until he'd had a little cake. I wonder what all the mummies thought of me, desert first! He went back to his savory eventually, but was far more interested in my vegetarian meal, thanks for that. Typical. I was very impressed with how long he tolerated sitting in a highchair for, he really was on his best behaviour. He was chattering quite loudly during the little chat by Silvercross though.....everyone else's children were angelic at that point I noticed...

I tried desperately to convince Missis to feed in the sling, so that I could wander round and chat to everyone, and later, enjoy the museum (she feeds for a LOOOOOONG time) but as we all know, you can't make a child do something they don't want to, so after accidentally flashing my bra while rooting in my bag, (what a fab first real-life impression I'm making) we moor up in a corner to feed. But luckily, I wasn't lonely, Josie from sleep is for the weak came to keep us company, and we chatted slings and breastfeeding, and she said lovely comforting things about how it gets easier soon, and how brave I was out in public. Thank you :-) . I forgot to say how much I enjoyed the sleep deprivation carnival, especially now Missis is boycotting sleep! Her Kai is so much like our Boy it's spooky....I know just how you feel! Boy started being a bit less "spirited" around 12 months by the way :-)

Gradually, people started to leave to see the museum, people I hadn't even talked to, whoops! I really am sorry. I'm glad Sandy from Baby Baby cornered me early to coo over Missis like she said she would :-) Not Supermum even had a little hold early on. Everyone said goodbye as they passed me on their way out, and I was touched by how many ladies asked me about Missis' weight issues or asked how feeding was going, everyone was so thoughtful. Thank you everyone.I was so taken aback, I kept forgetting to ask everyone how they were, although I did remember to congratulate Amy from and1moremeans4 (or is that 5?!) on her lovely news. Apart from me, she was the last to leave, and was very glad to get chance to tell her in person thanks for getting us all together. As if she hasn't got enough to do, she's kick-starting my social life too! Would have love to have caught up with Parklover, The Wife of Bold and Lindy (Squide is just as gorgeous in real life as Lindy's stunning photos)(forgive me if I've missed anyone)

Eventually, feeding time was over, and we tracked down HID and Boy, who were enjoying the exhibits without us. We only saw two things, the interactive room and transport exhibit, but it was really fabulous. I hope to go again as soon as I'm able to walk a bit better. We had to go home sooner than I would have liked, as HID was starting to worry about my c-section scar, rightly so I suppose, with all that walking. Boy had the time of his life! He ran round like a loon, looking and touching, and taking it all in, like a proper little boy! He's not a baby anymore! And his attention-span has improved so much, he really appreciated it all. I hope you enjoy our pictures!

This Mamma feels good.

2009-10-04T04:13:00.007Z

I thought I had carefully chosen an outfit to wear to the North West British Mummy Blogger's meet up on Sunday, but on Saturday afternoon HID pointed out that a high-neckline dress-style top with leggings, while fine for breastfeeding at home, does not cut in in a public place. I'd rather not be showing off my post-2nd-baby figure by lifting up my top to feed and exposing my legging-clad thighs and bottom, not to mention the tummy! So after a quick check on the Mothercare website that they had nursing tops, we piled the family into the car for a trip to our local store. I think it's one of the few (only, in our area) shops on the highstreet that sell nursing wear.

I was assisted by a very helpful and complementary member of staff who insisted I couldn't possibly be a size 16, obviously I was closer to a 12 (she was right, bless her soul, woo-hoo!), who bundled most of the vast range of nursing wear into my arms and sent me off to the changing room, where disappointment ensued, as is always the way with desperate, last minute shopping.

I tried on the first top, really funky design, bright colours,not at all boring or frumpy as I'd feared. Mistake number one: the carefully crafted hole at the side of the double layer through which I'm supposed to feed was not big enough to fit my boob through. I'm currently only a DD, mothercare make bras up to E cup. The top would be ideal for women with breasts growing out of the side of their ribcage, under their arms. Or, with exceptionally small, not full of milk breasts. This was the same for all the feeding tops I tried (around 10 different tops) and also a sleep nursing bra, size 16.

Mistake number two: the top layer of the feeding top was stitched to the bottom "cover-up" layer in such a ridiculous fashion, that each time I attempted to lift it as though to feed, the whole thing came up and exposed the bottom corner of my post-baby tummy, you know, the bit with all the wobbly bits and stretchmarks, exactly the stuff a nursing top is supposed to leave to the imagination? Yes, that bit. Great. This was, again, the same for all the styles and sizes of tops I tried on.

In conclusion, mothercare have a completely obsolete range of nursing wear, not one item was actually suitable to feed in. I will instead direct you to mamma feels good , where I bought my beloved, and actually functional, nursing t-shirt. Not only are they unusual, stylish and funky, but the double layer works fantastically, and the holes are big enough for big boobs :-)
As soon as mine comes out of the wash, I put it straight back on, and despair every time it gets covered in banana/babysick/wee/poo (delete as appropriate). I can't wait for the new designs to come out, I need at least two more for my wardrobe!! What's more, even though it's an independent company, Mamma Feels Good t-shirts are the same price as mothercare ones. And it's always nice to wear something no-one else has!

P.S. please see this post, and do your good deed for today by voting for Faye & Liam. Thanks so much!

Night of the living-dead tomato plants

2009-10-03T09:53:00.007Z

For the last two months of my pregnancy, my son and I had to move in with my mother. My pelvic disorder meant I needed help with/someone to do my basic mummy jobs such as cooking, nappy changes, bathing, dressing. I was also unable to navigate stairs, and my mum's house handily has a downstairs double bedroom with ensuite. (the house is so over-renovated, they will be bumping their heads on the ceiling price for the area.) HID sometimes stayed over with us, and always gave Boy his evening bath, but spent much time at home, getting last minute preparations done. But my mother in law lived at our home while she was in town, so there was always someone to feed the cat, water the plants, and keep the place looking lived in. Or so I thought.

About a month before baby arrived, there were certain items I needed from home that could not be sourced by HID. (No. Because that would involve him knowing practical things like where "we" kept Boy's pajamas. And it just wasn't worth explaining it all.) So HID took me on a trip home.

The smell hit me as soon as the door opened. Sort of a musty, moudly combo, as though the house had been empty for months. Clearly, no one had bothered opening a window for weeks. I walked into the badly-in-need-of-a-good-hoover living room and was met by toys strewn all over the floor. It was over a week since Boy had last visited for a play, yet it was apparently fine for people to step over them. (Since returning home, I've realised that many small items, such as jigsaw pieces or toy cars, that I'd lovingly organised into separate storage bags, have totally disappeared thanks to careless, if any, tidying up techniques. What a shame.)

The kitchen bin was way over due being emptied. There were rancid vegetables composting themselves in the fridge drawers. The kitchen floor was equally littered with crumbs and sticky spots. The bottom stair still had the line of dust from the stairgate we'd taken with us a month before. I dared not look in the bathroom. The nappy bin in Boy's room (god knows the last time he'd had a nappy change in there) stunk out the whole upstairs. And his cot had no sheet in it, just the plastic covering. And MIL had been complaining that he as refusing to nap when she babysat for him here. Well, the reason is obvious. Would any of you like to sleep on a bare plastic mattress in a room stinking of human excrement??

The most upsetting thing was the beautiful vegetable garden I'd lovingly planted. I can understand that it wasn't weeded. But EVERYTHING was dead, due to not being watered. The pumpkins had spread all over our small, now overgrown, lawn and garden chairs (that had STILL not been put away) from the veg patch. Well, just look at the pictures. I'm sure you'll understand how I felt. Was it really that hard to water a few plants? The place looked like it was made up for an outdoor halloween party!

HID works 12+hour days at a stressful job. He was also making time to cross town to spend time with us, and fit the new bathroom, and build a cot, and re-paper the living room. On the other hand, MIL does not work and had been traveling round Europe in a campervan for 6 months. So she was using our home as her full-time residence while she was in the country. Although,it certainly didn't look like someone was living there,let alone spending a full 24hours there, save a few trips to tescos. I can't believe someone could live like that! Did she not notice? Or could she not be bothered? She was helping with childcare an afternoon a few times a week, (the most she has ever seen Boy) but surely there was time to run the hoover around the place in the space of a month?! Yes, she's not in the best of health,but surely,on one of her "bad days", her boyfriend (also staying in our house) could be supervised in some simple chores such as plant-watering? Perhaps it is even fitting that he pitch in?

The thing that really grates is that she had found the time to heavily prune back the front garden (all the while,my lovely vegetables lay dying), so obviously, keeping up with the Jones' is important to her. It could also be to do with the fact that the house used to be hers, but we haven't changed the front garden much yet, it's still pretty much as she left it.

Needless to say, poorly and seven and a half months pregnant (and even if I wasn't!) the sight of my home in this state left me emotional, to say the least. Livid would be a better word. I explained to HID that under no circumstances was the house to look like this when I came out of hospital with a new baby. Luckily for him, and MIL, it didn't.

All by myself (with two under twos)

2009-10-01T03:06:00.006Z

The end of the week is looming. HID has been off work, helping with the babies, for almost a month, and on Monday, he returns. Frankly, I'm dreading it. Coincidentally, my Mum is also on holiday that same week, so no seeking solace at her place then. I'm still not feeling 100%, even after a month's rest, my pelvic disorder is still raging. I'm loads better, but a trip to the corner shop is a massive challenge, and takes half the day too. This leads me to conclude that I shall be entertaining two under twos all week within the confines of our house, as post-c-section, I can't even drive. One of them wants to do nothing but sit and feed all day, and the other would consider sitting still a form of torture.

I'm not filled with confidence after the first time I was left alone with both of them. I was feeding the baby, and HID nipped upstairs to the loo. Moments later, Boy was reaching for our huge camera, positioned "out of reach" (a concept that needs to be reviewed) on a shelf. Due to a spectacular over-use of the word "no" by his grandparents (he attempts to drink from a glass [he can actually do this] and Granddad says "nonononononononono no!". Literally.) when I really need the word to have some kind of impact, like when he is about to smash an extremely heavy camera into his face, it has no meaning, and is happily ignored. Cue a screaming toddler and me not being able to leap up quick enough to prevent it. I am hopeful that next week won't be filled with moments such as these.

But as a believer that prevention is better than cure, I'm in the process of arranging several friends to come round to play throughout the week, and enlisting MIL for a couple of lifts to children's centre run activities. But obviously I can't take the mick. I will have to be on my own with them some time!

Had a small trial run today, took both babies to our local breastfeeding network support group, where I could happily sit feeding, and Boy could play with all the toys. Things seemed to go great, and we only had a few minor incidents (which only even register because he was the only toddler, therefore his every move seemed extra noisy and boisterous).

1.) Whilst in the (walk-in) cupboard, he attempted to reach for a toy at the bottom of the box, and *almost* fell in, his feet left the floor several times anyway. I was the only person who didn't see this as cause for alarm. (You should see what he does at home.)

2.) At a particularly quiet moment, upturned an entire box of wooden dolls house people. Everyone looked round to see who was responsible. I had no need to look.

3.) Grabbed my cup of cordial and *almost* accidentally poured the whole lot into my bag. I was impressed that it was only a small splosh due to my now cat-like reactions.

4.) Had a minor "sharing" incident with a much bigger boy.

5.) Honed in on the only Dad in the group, repeatedly handing him plastic zoo animals til they were all gone, much to the poor guy's bewilderment.

6.) *Almost* stood on two separate baby's heads, several times. Those babies obviously don't have older siblings at home.

All while I was pinned to a chair breastfeeding! All in all, better than I could have hoped, he didn't cry or tantrum once :-)

I really don't know how Amy from and1moremeans4 does it. She's amazing. Congratulations to her on her pregnancy news! One of the mums I saw today told me about a lady I had thought previously MUST be an urban legend, but who was actually in the bed opposite her in hospital. A lady with 6 boys at home, who had "gone for the girl" and found herself pregnant with triplets! Luckily, they were all girls, and she was delighted. Well, fertility does increase with every child you have, watch out Amy! I wonder if Amy is going for the netball team, or if she fancies a blue one this time :-) very well done to her x

Weight issues

2009-09-29T01:28:00.005Z

I really wanted to say a big and heartfelt thank you to all my readers that offered support and advice when I was going through those difficult breastfeeding/weight issues. I thought I'd let you all know in this post how the story turned out. As we left off, the dreaded midwife was to to descend again the following day.

I read all your advice. I put out a plea for advice in the BMB forum, and a friend did the same on the babyled weaning forum. I was already in contact with local breastfeeding helpers, as suggested, I arranged my third home visit with them in two days time. A long time, as those who ever struggled with breastfeeding will understand. I could feed dozens and dozens of times between now and then. I called the NCT b/f helpline, another suggestion, the helpful and sympathetic volunteer reiterated much of what I'd already heard, but it gave me confidence nonetheless. She did let me know that by law, I was only obliged to have my child weighed three times in her 1st year. Quota filled then. So I was well within my rights to refuse to have her weighed. So I planned to call and put off the midwife for a day.

But the more I thought about it, the more stressed I became about not only baby's weight, I'd been here before, but the confrontation too. I tearfully convinced HID to call the unit on my behalf, first thing in the morning. A little pressure off. But as we all know, all problems and ailments seem/get worse during the night when you feel all alone, and that's just what happened. Missis miraculously "forgot" how to latch on. Plus, breastfeeding had suddenly become painful again. This was my last chance to feed her up, and she wouldn't feed! She cried and fussed. I stressed and cried. Great for the old let-down reflex eh? So Missis got more upset, as when she did manage to latch and suck, milk was not forthcoming. Becoming hysterical, I fed her all the expressed milk I had. (I'd been expressing due to a cracked nipple for those of you who asked, it was too painful to feed but I wanted to keep up supply). Missis still was not satiated. We had been torturing each other for hours, sobbing, in pain. It was not good. My relationship with my precious daughter would suffer if I carried on in this ridiculous fashion. I knew what I had to do. It didn't make the decision any easier. I couldn't say the word. The "F" word. HID was sent downstairs to make up what I could only describe as "a bottle of....milk". He heard me over the baby monitor sobbing "I'm so sorry baby, I'm so sorry", over and over as I knelt on the bed rocking my tiny daughter, who I'd failed so early on in her little life.

There did not seem much point in canceling the midwife visit, as she had gotten her way. But before she arrived, I did some soul-searching. My son had survived on formula after the first few months. But as a result of torturing myself (and him), I didn't feel I loved him, or even that he was mine, for about four months. He was nice enough, just something I had to feed. I couldn't do that again. Breast is best. But not at any cost, not at the cost of the relationship between me and Missis. So I made a quiet decision. I would attempt to get her to latch on for ten minutes. If it wasn't happening, I'd feed her a bottle of formula. But I'd always try. Since I made that decision, over a week ago, I can count on one hand the amount of bottles she has had. The decision made me relax about feeding, there was an alternative and I didn't need to feel guilty, I was doing the best I could, the pressure was off, and breastfeeding suddenly seemed a doddle.

When the midwife arrived, we found that Missis had only put on a marginal amount of weight. Not surprising really, considering how often she was being weighed. The midwife now insisted we take our perfectly healthy baby to the doctors. At this point, I was quite fed up of biting my tongue, being polite and avoiding confrontation. I demanded she check over the baby thoroughly for any signs of dehydration or otherwise ill health. None was found. I then told her how very upset and uncomfortable I'd felt bing instructed to give formula. She asked us if we'd lied about giving the formula. HID ushered her out of our home, we agreed to see the GP to be rid of her.

The GP was sadly in the midwife's camp. She also couldn't find a damn thing wrong with the child, and said we really should give formula. I was shocked, and stood up for myself this time, stating it would compromise the integrity of my milk supply to give formula milk. She was visibly surprised that a young mum like me had any real knowledge of breastfeeding. She backed down slightly, saying it was her medical opinion, and we should feel free to ignore it (which we did) for a whole week, at which point, the big guns were out. This was Thursday. The midwife was due again on Sunday. She was sure to insist on another weigh-in before Thursday. I hoped the breastfeeding volunteer, due on Friday, had some ideas for weight gain in b/f babies.

When the volunteer arrived, she listened. To our concerns after a previous slow-to-gain baby, what a bully the midwife was, how feeing was going, she let us get it all out, which was wonderful. Incidentally, it turns out the midwife we were seeing, the volunteer told us, was one of the most pro-b/f in the area, she was who I'd have been referred to, should the "big guns" be needed next Thursday. Great. I'd hate to meet a pro-formula midwife then....

The volunteer tweaked my positioning and attachment. The better these are, the more efficiently baby can drink. We discussed feeding even more often (sometimes, she would go 3hrs during the day), breast compression and lastly, requesting a milk supply boosting drug from the doctor. She explained the midwife and GP had suggested formula because it's a viable, easy, available-in-tescos alternative in our culture. Parents feelings and wishes are often not taken into account, but there are lots of things to try before we give formula again, if that's what we wanted. Which we did.

That night I found what I thought was an infected stitch, and the midwives I called advised me to speak to the doctor, who prescribed antibiotics over the phone. (it was 5pm on a Friday, I don't blame him.). On the Saturday, a lovely, supportive, understanding friend came round to chat about the whole fiasco. I was just starting to feel good about it all again, when there came a knock at the door. The midwife. To check on my stitch. My friend quickly excused herself to the garden, lest she say something regrettable to the midwife. But when HID showed her inside, it was a different midwife, a lovely midwife, a ray of hope midwife. It turned out the stitch wasn't infected, and she asked after baby's health. I begged her not to weigh, and my voice wobbled as the whole sorry story came out. She looked at baby and was happy. She convinced me to relax. Do my best. If it didn't work, there were alternatives. She didn't use the "F" word. I practically kissed her feet in relief and gratitude.

On Sunday, the original midwife arrived to weigh again. I tolerated her presence in my home, but not much else. She weighed, and was finally satisfied. I didn't take much notice of the actual figure, just that she was on the up. She insisted she had to weigh once more before discharge, on the deadline Thursday, the same day the health visitor was due. I happily forgot all about weight, and started to really enjoy feeding my baby.

Thursday: the HV arrived and I confidently explained everything, finishing with, "so it was just me, stressing myself out really." She replied,"No, actually, it was that awful midwife." I instantly warmed to her :-) She offered to source the new b/f baby weight charts for Missis as a matter of urgency. She didn't weigh baby, and wouldn't be doing so for another two weeks.

Later, the midwife arrived, but it was water off a duck's back. I let her think that the HV was weighing in seven days, and satisfied with today's weigh-in, she discharged us. Thank God.

A held baby is a happy baby

2009-09-28T09:54:00.006Z

Last week was national babywearing week.(And the title, and last line, of this post are nicked from t-shirt slogans for hard-core babywearers!) I'm a bit late, I know, but do forgive me, my little Missis takes up a lot of time. However, because I'm lucky enough to have been introduced to the joys of babywearing when my first baby was four months old, she doesn't take up quite as much time as she could.

You see, like Boy did, Missis wakes up as soon as you lay her sleeping body down. With Boy, we tried everything, from hot water bottles in the cot to warm his mattress up before we laid him in, to reading "The Hobbit" in its entirety into the wee hours. But now we have the know how with Missis, so we just let her sleep in the sling (or in our bed with us) where she is next to the comforting sounds, smells and warmth that were familiar to her in the womb.

Society tries to make us think otherwise, but babies are not supposed to be left alone. Not that long ago, if mothers had left their babies so they could cook over the fire or wash clothes in the river, her baby would have been gobbled up by wolves/a bear/a tiger....I could go on. Baby's common subconscious remembers this useful evolutionary tool, and screams like a banshee every time you put her down. But that's what she's SUPPOSED to do. If any other animal found itself waking up in a silent, dark place alone, don't you think it would attempt to find it's mother by any means necessary, including crying out?

We are essentially primates. Ever wondered why babies are born with that super-death grip that surprises you so much when they grab your finger? It's so they can cling on to your fur to be carried along with you. Yes, just the those orangutans you saw in the zoo. Since we don't have much fur anymore, the intelligent human being finds other ways to keep baby close. Either they develop major skills in one-handed chore-doing, develop a huge left-bicep, and pain all down the left side of their back, or they simply pop baby in a sling, and get on with life.

So next time some smug uber mummy goes on about her "good" baby that she "hardly knows she has", remember that your baby is the truly clever one, and hers wouldn't have gotten very far a few years ago.

Since Missis was born, she has been "slung" a lot. Now Boy is bigger, he really only rides in the sling outside the house, as a pram-substitute. But with Missis, I'm either feeding her, sleeping next to her, or carrying her in a sling. (Or someone else is). As I recover from the birth, I'm able to do a few tasks round the house, or sit down to a meal with the family, hands free. I don't need to carry those god-awful car seats around, or rush through the shopping with an unsettled baby.

I carried her in the hospital (the midwives and new mums crowded round). I carry her all over the house and garden (Boy stops me to peep inside the sling and kiss the sleeping baby). I carry her round tescos (old ladies ask if I've made the sling myself) (I haven't). I carry her during my course, training to be a breastfeeding helper (babes in arms most welcome in the training room). I carry her to the corner shop. My favourite so far, what we dreamed of when I was pregnant, was me carrying Missis, and HID carrying Boy, on a family trip out. We took them to see the Blackpool Illuminations! Missis slept on me the whole time, snuggled up against the sea breeze in her sling. Boy stayed up til 11pm! We rode a tram and ate ice cream. What a treat. It would not have been so easy and enjoyable had we used prams (or had to spend a fortune on a newborn/toddler double pram!). The children were warm, we were close enough to talk and listen to one another, and no one was unsettled, it was easy to get on the tram, Boy was high enough to see everything and talk to everyone. HID and I walked along holding hands. Blissful.

I even made an attempt yesterday at breastfeeding in the sling. It's going to take a bit more practice to get it right, but HID is back at work next week, and, well, breastfeeding on demand with a toddler around just isn't going to work any other way. I've got a week to perfect it.

Many of my pro-bottle feeding family and friends dismiss breastfeeding as "very tying for you". Hopefully this will not be the case once I get going with sling feeding. And right now, I really don't mind being tied up feeding. It's forcing me to rest properly, and I've an iron-clad excuse for not doing housework! Others have said how selfish breastfeeding can be, taking away HID's opportunity to bond. But while we have the sling, I think Daddy is bonding just fine by snuggling his little princess to his chest in his sling. He's even been enthused enough to learn a new, more complex tie. After all, real men wear babies.

Trolley dash game!

2009-09-28T08:59:00.002Z

Now that I've perfected the art of breastfeeding one-handed, I'm free to waste my time on the laptop however I like! Susanna from BMB alerted me to thistrolley dash game on Tesco's new Greener Living site. It's so funny! And it teaches you about greener living. I bet all your little monsters would love to have a go! Better have a go yourself first, just to test it out ;-)

New to co-sleeping

2009-09-26T18:58:00.009Z

This post is for the Sleep Deprivation Carnival over at Sleep is for the Weak. Check it out!

As a second time mum, when I was pregnant, I had LOADS of ideas about how I'd do things differently this time. Avoid mistakes. Sidestep bad advice (which I followed when I didn't know any better). Do things MY way. Listen to my instinct.

One thing that in hindsight simply screamed "why are you doing this???" was the sleep issue. Our son was (is), um, "high need", for want of a better phrase. We did as we were told and, well to be frank, forced our baby to sleep in a moses basket next to the bed, and later a cot in another room. We read to him til gone midnight sometimes. Eventually, we slept in shifts for about six weeks. Things improved. Marginally. Gradually. He woke every two hours for the first four months. Four wakes a night were not uncommon at ten months, now in his own room. At around 16 months, he started to consistently sleep through. Well, til 4.30am anyway. As you can imagine, we wanted to avoid this with our new baby. I heard about co-sleeping, bitterly regretted not doing it with our eldest. (Who, incidentally, is now always welcome in our bed, but sleeps fitfully there). I researched the concept, and fell in love. We didn't wait to find out if our daughter is high need, and co-sleeping started on our first night in hospital. Tongue-in-cheek, often hidden from the midwives.

Here are some things I LOVE about co-sleeping:

1.) This is a big one. I don't have to get up to feed or comfort Missis. I had NO IDEA I could get so much sleep with a newborn. I'm just hardly tired at all! It's really amazing.
2.) The stunningly hand-crafted bedside (dropped side) cot my husband lovingly made for our daughter. (above)
3.) Cuddling my new baby. Stroking her newborn-soft hair whenever I please. Touching her skin. Marveling at her fingers. Anytime.
4.) Breastmilk is better at night.
5.) More feeding at night means less in the day, and more time spent with my toddler during the day.
6.) I really don't mind how many times she wakes.
7.) My husband loves it. And not just because he gets more sleep. Even when I told him the average age a co-sleeping child leaves the family bed. (Which is two years, by the way. be said "ahh".)

However, there are some no so great things about co-sleeping.

1.) She heats me up so much, I wake up sweaty.
2.) I never knew it was possible, but she actually scoots towards me as we sleep, so that we have less & less room as the night goes on. We only have a double bed!
3.) She has never slept in the aforementioned cot for longer than 15mins. It is being used as a glorified bedside table. My drink, lansinoh, lamp etc.
4.) I refuse to use a duvet due to safety, but we only have an old scratchy blanket & sheet until we can get to ikea & it's not very warm or cosey.
5.) Just when my horribly cracked nipple was on the mend, I wake to find her sucking on it however she pleases. It's not "nipple feeding" Missis!
6.) She has razor blades for finger nails on my over-full, sensitive boobs.
7.) Baby sick, milk & leaky nappies on my sheets.
8.) Sex has to be quicker and quieter. But it's not impossible! And the gentle motion sooths a stirring baby at the other side of the bed.

I recommend it. It's really works for us.

C-section: the pros

2009-09-25T19:42:00.002Z

I could go on about how great my birth was, but I'll save that for another post. What I will tell you today is what has been my favourite thing so far about having a surgical over a natural birth. With my last baby, I suffered such trauma physically that sex was the last thing on my mind for the best part of six months. Well, actually, it wasn't, but however much I wanted to, it wasn't worth the pain. And it's not very romantic to say; "hold that thought honey, I'll just get the local anesthetic gel." even after a whole tube, it was still time to grit my teeth, at least for the first few minutes.
Today, our daughter is three weeks old. And guess what we got up to last night?! It has helped that she is a much more settled baby than our son was.
I hadn't realised, after a physically demanding pregnancy that literally dictated how far I could open my legs for the past six months, how much I'd missed my husband. And sex! The physical closeness it brings. And it's still as fantastic as it always was :-)
Just slightly quicker and quieter than usual. But after six months and with a sleeping newborn in a bedside cot next to us, can you blame us?!

Learner Breastfeeder

2009-09-24T16:14:00.003Z

I thought I'd share with you some of the public places that I've so far bared my boobs, since, as a learner, I'm not shy as such but worried about fluffing it up in public, and having a screaming newborn on-off-on-off the boob. Neither fun nor sociable.

1.) An emergency feed in a newsagent's car park on the way to a special bra shop for nursing mums. At half past three. That is, school chuck out time. Yes, the shop was filled with pre-pubescent boys. I furtively glanced up from under my eyelashes, daring one of them to shout something about tits. Not one of them gave me a second look.

2.) Mothercare breastfeeding facilities. Which was the ladies loos with a sofa/bench in it. Which meant HID had to stay outside. The changing facilities were in the ladies too. Useful. It wasn't comfortable, but better than the car, and the music was good!

3.) My mum's. My step-dad quickly excused himself to his office.

4.) A country pub at lunchtime. My mum had the Boy, and we went out. We chose a booth in the corner, next to some retired ladies lunching, who were most pleased to be in Missis' company. She struggled to latch on and fussed and cried. Our food came. I decided to continue....

5.) In the car in the car park outside the pub, opposite a carfull of collage-age youths. (male). She fed well. My food went cold.

6.) Starbucks, in a comfy chair. Had to hobble upstairs, as students had nicked all the comfy chairs downstairs. Good music, and getting better at latching on in public and not showing too much nipple.

7.) At my house, but with friends, a couple and their 23m old. Who now thinks I provide milk for the whole world. And openly observed how I put my baby to my breast in that wonderfully curious and innocent way only children can.

Tomorrow, I will be feeding at a training course for b/f helper volunteers that I'm taking. I'm sure they will be a supportive audience.

Breastfeeding HELP!!

2009-09-16T12:32:00.000Z

My daughter is 11 days old and has yet to gain weight, though she's no longer losing. Midwife has been "strongly suggesting" a daily formula fed for days now, and insisted today it is the "final straw" and "Must" be given today. She's back tomorrow to weigh!!! Don't want to give formula if can be avoided. Did with son & he self-weaned from breast within 2 months. Baba well, not dehydrated, normal poos, wees, feeding well, and often, good latch, milk in. Does anyone know anything about weight gain in bf babies? Or any suggestions at all? Expressing & topping up with at least 1oz via a cup daily. She hates it! HELP!

It's a girl!

2009-09-13T18:10:00.004Z

The little lady, who has already procured the nickname "Missis", arrived as planned via CS just over a week ago, weighing 6lbs13, giving a little cry to abate our worries then proceeding to be calm for the rest of the time I was in surgery and recovery. It was magical.

New baby

2009-09-03T12:34:00.002Z

Thanks to all who read my "Missing my Bbaby" post. On a happy note, this time tomorrow (in theory) I will be mummy to two under two's! I'm arriving at hospital at 7.45 tomorrow, and I'm the very first on the list, so unless there are countless emergencies, in around 24 hours, I'll be holding my much-anticipated newborn in my arms, rather than my poor pelvis :-)
Wish me luck! I cannot wait!!

Here is what we have been doing while staying with Nana...

2009-08-28T19:36:00.004Z

Playing with Granddad's toys.

Lots of playing in the huge garden. Even in the wet. Even in my pajamas.

Choosing my very own clothes to wear.

Enjoying the rain.

Learning keyborad and mouse skills.

Turning into a beautiful big boy, right before Mummy's eyes.

Missing my baby

2009-08-27T20:27:00.000Z

I miss my son terribly. Every morning, stiff from sleep, I am unable to pick him up for the cuddle we both need to start our days. I am well enough to either pour out his cereal or sit up at the table to eat breakfast with him. I am currently expected to do both. So after breakfast, I spend time lying on the sofa recovering, unable to interact with him in a normal way. I am too distracted by pain. He watches more TV than we ever would in our own home. It is something I am able to do with him, but I'd rather he play, even if it is not with me. When he has his morning sleep, I am not resting, but using the time to dress and wash with agonizing slowness. Then I take more painkillers and try to rest before he wakes, having been soothed to sleep not by me but by his grandmother. He has stopped coming to me. Mummy can't play, get food or give cuddles, so what use is she? All his affection is reserved for Nana, who is doing everything I passionately wish I could. I sobbed today when he voluntarily came to give me a goodbye kiss and wave when heading out of the door on yet another outing I cannot accompany him on.

He is eating lots of food we wouldn't normally have at home, such as tinned meals, biscuits and bread often more than twice a day. The only vegetables he eats are the ones in the individual portions of homecooked food I made from scratch months ago, to have healthy ready meals for him for after the new baby arrives. My supply continues to dwindle, and I can't even be sure that I am well enough each day to stand and defrost the meal and then heat it. And it seems others are unwilling when there are tins of ravioli to be served. He is allowed snacks very close to meal times, when I would normally just try to get the meal ready a little earlier. Instead, he has to wait, and fill up on snacks while such-and-such a job just needs to be finished. His meals are often eaten alone, something I try to avoid. After all, how will he learn to use cutlery if he has no frame of reference? He is often spoon-fed, often in front of the TV. He often eats too much as the TV distracts him enough to miss his full-up signal. He is then praised for finishing a meal. I don't mind if he doesn't eat much of his meals, as he is learning how much he needs, and only he can be the judge of his own hunger. But while we are here, he is learning that people find clean plates a cause for celebration, something which I feel founds my own over-eating. I wish I could avoid this. He is scolded for experimenting with the feel and texture of foods with his hand. He is only learning, and wants to see. Yet....

He is being allowed to get away with much more than at home, such as throwing toys. I cannot leap up to stop him, and he has a much larger audience here. Daddy had a plastic cup launched into his face this evening, hitting the bridge of his nose, after his glasses did. And any reprimands that do not come from me are shouted, loudly, something I try to avoid, along with overuse of the word “no”. Boredom whining and frustration tantrums are not met with a “how can we solve this” attitude that I really do try so hard to present at home, but with “oh, stop your moaning”, not something a 20 month old can easily understand. He is bored, he is used to one planned activity outside the home a day, he is a difficult to entertain toddler. But he is now expected to be happy in the house all day. He isn't.

The worst part of the day by far is night time. Daddy usually arrives to put him to bed. Downstairs, I listen to the delighted squealing in the bath, and try not to think about how he cuddles close for his bedtime milk, folding into your body for his last bit of contact before bed. I have not personally witnessed how he rolls away onto his tummy with his blanket and dummy and sleepily dismisses you from the room for over a month now. Later, I go to bed, and HID goes home and leaves me, to fit the new bathroom before the new baby arrives. In the night, as is usual, I hear crying that wakes a mother instantly. I cannot get upstairs to him, even if he was downstairs with me, I am unable to lift him into my arms for comfort, and sway and nurse him like I used to. I wait, listening to his cries escalate in intensity before my mother wakes and tends to him. I lay in bed, considering each night dragging my body up those stairs just to see that he is all right. I would pick him up, I think. I would give him milk. But a tack of a different generation is used. Without the parents and comfort he is used to, in a strange bed in Nana's house, he wakes even more frequently than at home. HID takes on the night shift at weekends and a few nights a week. Who knows, this change could unsettle him even more. This is the part I hate the most. Trapped in my bed, listening to my son scream out in the night for attention and affection, something a child should never be denied, even at 3am. Yes, sometimes my patience wears thin with a child that doesn't sleep through the night. But he is my son, and I'm always prepared to go to him. The sleepless nights make anyone but a mother (and sometimes her too) have a short fuse, even with a delightful and much-loved small boy who just wants to play.

My mother is almost 50, she didn't plan at this age to be getting up three or more times a night to tend to a crying baby. She didn't make the decision to be running around after an energetic toddler all day, coming up with new and exciting things to do each time boredom strikes. She did not expect that I would be so ill in my second pregnancy, no one did, or I would have put it off for much longer. No one has asked her to do all our washing, cook all our meals, change all the nappies and an endless list of other wonderfully caring things she does, completely unasked, and, it must seem, thanklessly. I am so very lucky and grateful to have her. I just wish I was doing it my way. It isn't just the parental-style issue. I miss it. I want it so badly that each time they leave the house, and I am alone, I cry bitterly with the agony of spending all day with a child, but not really being present for him. Daddy must miss him too, he isn't seeing him nearly as much as if we were living at home. But I have totally crumpled. And with each day, the pain increases, and I am doing less and less with him, for him. As a mother, it's killing me.

One thing that struck me today: he learned to walk just as I was losing the ability. So although he has been walking for some months now, and is able to walk distances in the park and so on, I have never seen this. I have never walked with him outside. I haven't had the excitement of seeing a dog in the distance with him, or having a bus drive past us.

I cannot explain how desperate I am to get better. I don't want to be a burden on my mum and husband, and all the friends that are helping us. I don't want to be in pain. I want my son's routine, discipline, eating and sleeping habits to return to normal. But so much above all of that,I want to go back to being the mother I was, and I want to stop missing out on my son's toddlerhood. I want to teach the new words and play the new games. I want to show him the world. Me. Not anyone else. I am missing that so much. I am missing being a mummy so much. I am missing him so much that I ache.

Status update

2009-08-26T20:03:00.002Z

Just a quick one to keep you all informed, I'm really not well enough to sit at the computer for very long, but just to let you know.
Two hours ago, after my shower, I was convinced my waters broke! Exciting stuff as I CAN'T WAIT til my cesarean. However, after discussions with midwives and texting friends, and waiting an hour "just to see what happens", I'm now pretty convinced it was simply water from the shower. (Especially since I'm having to sit on a stool in the shower) Gutted! Good new is: at least I didn't wet myself :-)

Bump

2009-08-20T19:21:00.004Z

Yes, I know it looks small to you. This is me at 36+2 weeks. And it is HUGE compared to what I was during labour last time. My sister who took this photo, would like me to inform you that the stone table in the background is indeed a sacrificial one, and it's where my op will take place, with me as the sacrifice, obviously. (Well my body and my sleeping habbits, at least)
Some good news: after tracking down my own actual doctor via a midwife and a mobile phone today, I have been treated like a person and had NO PROBLEM moving my cesearean forward a few days. Speaking to the right person made the world of difference. Thanks for all your comments. xx

Policies and Procedures. What about People?

2009-08-19T20:06:00.001Z

Today, I went to see the consultant regarding my cesarean (and my ever worsening SPD). On Monday, whilst at hospital for SPD treatment, I double checked the correct place to go with the “helpful” receptionist, that gave the impression she had no idea that I'd booked the appointment (through her, I remembered her seeming useless at the time) and asking if it was “essential” that I saw that doctor. Or a doctor at all. I stressed that it was, that the doctor had requested the appointment herself. You can see where this is going, and it didn't bode well for my cesarean appointment.

Of course, said doctor was miraculously unavailable on the day, and the midwives were under the impression I was there for a clinic check up (which I'd been careful to attend to on the Monday,while I was already at the hospital). A different, younger, less experienced, male doctor was sourced.

I arrived in my wheelchair, having been washed and dressed by hubby that morning, in fairly huge amounts of pain. I knew the hospital's standard procedure was to do cesareans at 39 weeks. I had researched (online, books) and discussed with midwives and my physios. I was hoping to have an adult discussion about the possibility of a slightly earlier section. Even a few days would have been a relief. I am not sleeping, due to pain. I am struggling to sit upright. I cannot stand, wash, dress. Many people comment that I should be in hospital. I often cry in pain if someone accidentally touches my legs/feet. I turn 39 weeks on the Sunday. Obviously, planned cesareans are not performed at weekends. The midwife I saw on Monday assured me that I was in such a state, that to have the section in the 38th week, especially the Friday, would not be a problem if I asked. Well, apparently, it is. They refused point blank to do it before the 39th week, so the Monday it is. 39+1. Not even two days early.

At this point hubby visibly lost it and I started to cry (partly in pain from sitting upright in a wheelchair for so long while they buggered about finding a doctor). They offered to call “my” doctor and double check. The young guy is obviously just following procedures, and is not taking into account my individuality at all. My doctor could not be contacted, but she will let me know if any changes to the decision are made.

37 weeks is considered full term. I have been having braxton hicks for two days now. I don't want to have a baby rushed to special care, but I am very ill. Apparently, my health, welfare and general stress levels (and that of my poor mother, husband and son who are bearing the brunt of my care and illness) is completely irrelevant as long as they cover their asses so that I don't sue. Nice. I feel like a fucking incubator, not a person. I do care, so much, about the baby's health, that's why I stopped taking my medication a week before they advised I'd need to. And the baby's health is the ONLY thing getting me through the day. The thought of holding him or her, and it all being over. Being able to recover. I just cannot see how I will get from now to then. Every day, I wake up (after a maximum of 4 hours sleep) worse than when I went to bed. And every night, I go to bed feeling worse than I did that morning. Three weeks to go. It doesn't sound like a lot to a health person. But I can't see beyond my next dose of paracetamol, for all the bloody good it does. All I can hope is that the baby spontaneously decided to be early....like tomorrow!

No presents, please!

2009-08-18T19:54:00.003Z

I am trying to tactfully ask friends and family not to buy us any more crap, I mean, useful baby gifts, for the new baby, and I've written a letter to ask them for some alternatives. I'm trying hard not to offend anyone, would you be offended? Do I need to change any wording? Have you any better ideas? I'm also enclosing a few current pictures of my toddler Boy as a gift to sweeten the blow....people love buying stuff for babies, don't they?! We just don't need a thing....here is the letter:

Hello Everyone!

The birth of baby gets ever closer, thought you'd like to know, the cesarean section is scheduled (although not guaranteed!) to happen:.......
Although I will be giving birth at Hospital, I am hoping to be transferred to the Midwifery Unit after a short stay (24 hours) in hospital, and spend the rest of my recovery time, around a week depending on how I feel, at the unit, and everyone is very welcome to visit me there, visiting times are 3.30-5pm, and 7-8pm. As it's only 3 allowed at a time, let me know when you plan to visit, so you don't have to come a long way, and then spend time waiting. Or, I will let you know when I get home, and you can come to play with Boy and see the new baby at home. I may well stick to the visiting hours above, as they are very sensible, and I might be quite poorly after major abdominal surgery.

When Boy arrived, he received lots of lovely gifts of clothes and toys (ditto for his birthday and Christmas!), and lots of wonderful friends offered lovely, gently used items that their children had outgrown. As a result, Boy, and the new baby, have all they could ever want or need in terms of clothes, toys and baby items/gadgets. (To be honest, Boy has far too many toys, and I've never needed to buy him a stitch of clothing, and by the looks of things, won't be doing until he is 3 years old or more!)

So as a result of our wonderful friends and relatives' kindness, we really, really don't need anything new for this baby at all. If the baby is a girl, it may be nice to have a few girly outfits for her (we like H&M for brightly patterned things), but even then a friend has offered to lend us all her little girl's baby clothes, so we certainly won't need anything. We are not even buying a double pram, as we can use our slings and the pram in combination! Even items that get “used up” such as nappies or baby toiletries, we don't use, as we have a full set of washable nappies, and sensitive skin runs in the family, we still only use water to wash Boy, as he has terrible reactions to even the gentlest of products on his skin. (Including the chemicals in disposable nappies). We do have a very few items that we need this time,which are listed at the end.

Instead, we would love it if you could spare your time or help during my recovery from surgery. Perhaps, if you come to visit, you could bring a home-cooked meal for us (I don't eat red meat, sorry! The boys do though :-)), or if you don't like cooking, a take away or a frozen meal from the supermarket. Another idea could be to bring us a carton of whole milk and a loaf of white bread, or some fruit, all of which we run out of on an almost daily basis. (Our favourite fruits include grapes, apples, bananas, satsumas and peaches or nectarines.) If you have a little time to spare, I'd love it if you could perhaps take Boy out for a little walk in his pram. I have been house bound with my pelvic disorder since May, and he simply loves going out, it's such a treat, as I've not been able to take him. Plus, he is a very active little boy, and staying at home and being “good” and “quiet” are not really things he likes at all :-). If you are really keen, he also loves the park, or even swimming for those very brave volunteers :-). Another idea could be to give us all a little ring for a chat to check we are all well and keep us a bit sane in those newborn days, say once a week for the first two months. Or, if you have children, just bring them round for a play with Boy, he loves the company. This applies, not just to the week I get out of hospital, but for 6-8 weeks, as patients of this surgery are advised to rest for at least this long. So if you'd like to put off your visit for a few weeks, that would be fine. It might be nice to have visitors a bit staggered and spread out, last time it was very overwhelming as I was so poorly.

If none of this appeals, we will of course be setting up a child trust fund for the new baby, and donations would be very welcomed in the place of toys and clothes we don't really need.

A few things we need:

 Antilop IKEA high chair: (£10, a red one please! We have a blue one,and they are conveniently stackable.)
 Mothercare vouchers for another nappy storage bucket and other nappy accessories.
 Shoo shoos (leather baby shoes: the only ones that stay on, not worth bothering with ANYTHING else! all sizes useful)
 Baby nightgowns in various sizes, also known in mothercare as “baby bundelers”, like baby grows but open at the bottom for easy nappy changes. SO much easier, especially with newborns. Babygrows are a bit awkward, babies grow so fast their little feet get squashed in the toes. If any, the footless ones are best (can get from H&M) so they fit baby for ages, or the ones with ”gloves” attached (from matalan) so that baby is not covered in scratches all the time like Boy was!
 Annabel Karmel toddler meal planner: I borrowed this from the library, totally great! Lots of ideas for weaning baby & family meals too.
 Bibs: ethel austin do plain white, pull over the head bibs which are great.
 Muslin cloths: we use millions of them.
 In the early days, we'll be using “nature babycare” nappies (which are bio-degradable and don't contain chemicals. And are the same price as pampers and huggies), so a packet of those would be greatly appreciated! They seem to be available at lager Tesco's stores and Boots too. (i.e. not the local ones....typical!)

But we really would appreciate a homecooked meal.....

Thank you all in advance for welcoming our new baby to the world! We look forward to seeing you after the baby arrives.

Star Wars

2009-08-14T02:45:00.002Z

Hopefully the title of this post will have lured in any Star Wars fans, as this really is unmissable. Descovering the delight of Stumbled Upon, you really must add it and check it out (a start could be to click on the thumbs up button at the side of this post), I stumbled upon these pictures. They are just so funny! The cast of Star Wars as you've never seen them before! I'm not a hardcore fan, i.e. I couldn't tell you the storyline, but I love the characters, action & the jokes. This is the same attitude I have to many films, like the Bourne films, X-Men films, Indiana Jones films....I just like to be entertained, rather than having to switch my brain on! Anyway, enjoy x

All Quiet on the Blogging front

2009-08-12T07:45:00.003Z

Hello lovely readers. I just thought I would let you know that I may be a bit sporadic on the posting business for a while: my SPD has worsened and I've had to move in with my mum (who has a spare downstairs bathroom and bedroom, so I not longer have to crawl upstairs, which is, honestly, what I've been having to do.) Plus I need her on hand for help with the Boy, who I literally can no longer lift, and thus can't get him into his cot for naps, highchair for meals, changing table for nappy changes....you get the idea. So although the internet is readily available here (to a point, I don't want to seem anti-social & it is a family PC) I am also stuggling to sit upright withough being in pain (standing not much fun either, and walking a total joke), so much time spent lying on the sofa being an invalid, grrrr. Feel quite chuffed I've already packed my hospital bag and won't have to trust someone else to do it for me, and that my freezer is packed with nutritious home-made meals for my return from hospital and those newborn days....so what we we have to use them now and live off take-aways later?? Bit worried about leaving the veg garden/fish/cat under the part-time supervision of HID...not much I can do! Boy is luckily very happy to be at Nanna's, and has settled in very well, even sleeping quite well too. I will try and keep on top of my google reader, but my passion for commenting may well slip...sorry in advance! It is very stange typing on a proper keyboard after so long on my tiny notebook, sorry for any errors!

Friday feeling

2009-08-08T19:35:00.003Z

Yes, I know it's Saturday! But I'm home alone (well, not counting a sleeping small boy and belly moving like an octopus in a large water balloon) and checking my emails, looking at the British Mummy Bloggers site (click the badge on the right) and on facebook, generally wasting sufficient time before bed that would suggest a bedtime of a woman in her early twenties and not a pensioner, and I got all excited! I'm having that Friday feeling all over again (would have possibly only had it once if I'd checked my emails yesterday), I had an email from Joanne Mallon, who has kindly, oh so kindly, included me in her Friday Roundup, and I'm more than a bit pleased, thank you Joanne. Do have a visit, there are some fab posts up, not least one prompting (yet another) breastfeeding debate (quite heated!!) in the comments section, well worth a read. Whatever is the world coming to? Well, I had to leave my two pence.....

(By the way, Joanne did make a small error, which is in the process of being fixed, that I had my new baby on Thursday....don't worry! I'm still with bump, no plans to deliver this side of four weeks from now :-) )

I've also been receiving tutorials about using Stumbled Upon into my email box too, and I've just caught up with those so far. I am a bit clueless about technology like this really, but thought I'd give it a go, it's fab! Like channel hopping, infinitely entertaining for the attention-deficit-ed among us, and great when you only really have five minutes of me time, not long enough to realistically sort emails or do anything of real worth while online. So a bit of fun! I'm slowly getting the hang of it (like I said, I'm a bit dense on these matters, I'm sure in reality it's very simple to add the toolbar) and do recommend you to try it! While you're there, why not add me as a friend? As a new user, I am a bit lonely....I've just added the thumbs up button above the British Mummy Bloggers badge, so if you like a particular post that you've read (or will read in future!), please give me a little thumbs up by clicking the button. It will be very much appreciated! I know some of my readers who are also part of the BMB are on there too, I'm slowly getting round to "thumbing up" all my favourite blogs, it's quite good fun!

Fastest pasta in the west

2009-08-07T07:42:00.004Z

Ingredients:

Pasta: enough to feed your family. Tagliatelle is nice and looks posh, for little ones, fusilli is possibly easiest to pick up.

Green pesto: one or two tablespoons, according to taste. (can use red, but green matches with the peas :-) )

Frozen peas: as above!

Philadelphia cream cheese (or supermarket alternative): as above!

Cheese: large handful grated. We use mature cheddar, try mild if you prefer or parmasan

Onion: 1/2 to one, finely chopped

Mushrooms: handful, sliced

(If really short on time,leave out these last two ingredients,as chopping takes up time)

Method:

Fry onion & mushrooms in olive oil or similar.

Cook pasta.

Add frozen peas to onions & mushrooms, cook for 5 mins.

Add cream cheese too pan, melt a little & stir in pesto.

Add pasta & stir.

Put into bowls & sprinkle on cheese.

Hey pesto! A pasta meal in under 10 mins. Great for those little ones who decide they are starving to death as soon as you open the kitchen door....like mine. You can even get them chopping mushrooms with a safe knife while you get everything ready!

Enjoy!

I'm going to hospital to have a baby (by cesarean section) and I'm taking......

2009-08-06T12:34:00.002Z

A bit like that memory game: I'm going shopping and I'm going to buy....Here is my hospital bag list (it's almost ALL in there too) and the reasons, as a second time mum, why I've chosen these items. Please, please leave your comment below if you have any other ideas, things you took, or wished you had, when you had your baby. Especially if you had a cesarean, this is my first time having one!

For baby:

My pouch sling. I want to carry the baby a lot anyway, but last time I was a bit confused as to whether it was ok to leave the baby in a cot on the ward while I went for a wee.....this time I will just take baby along! And I may still be on crutches anyway, I was last time, so carrying can be difficult when you need both hands for something else.

Several (blue, as my first was a boy, not point buying til we know!) vests and babygrows: some in “newborn” size, and some in “early baby” size: none in 0-3m. Even “newborn” didn't fit Boy for at least a month!

Packet of “nature babycare” bio-degradable, eco-friendly nappies. We intend to use cotton nappies when I'm feeling a little better after the op, and these are the next best thing (you can even put a few wet ones in your home compost bin: decomposing above ground does not produce harmful methane like landfills do. Just remember to not use nappy bags, (or use the nature babycare ones): they will take much longer to decompose, wherever you put them, wrapped in a plastic bag). They sell them in Boots and larger Tescos, same price a huggies & pampers, just not on offer as often.

Muslin cloths & nappy cloths (the inside bit of the nappies, which look like big dishcloths when not folded), for laying baby on to change nappies, to wipe up wees, poos, sick, milk, and to use as a shoulder-guard when winding baby upon your shoulder. An invaluable must. Still useful (essential!) at 20 months old.

Scratch mitts. Boy was a scratcher. We also may buy some babygros with mitts attached, (matalan) as they never stay on!

Me:

My usual toiletries, including a new perfumed (Bright Crystal) moisturizer my mum got me (in a set) to take to hospital to pamper myself. I wonder if I'll get time? What a lovely present, nonetheless.

Nettle & Peppermint tea: nettle for boosting milk supply, and peppermint for the painful trapped wind cesarean patients often get a few days after the birth. Don't want to be going through extra pain unnecessarily!

Brand new tommee tippee hand breast pump and little (closer to nature) bottle. We had breastfeeding difficulties last time, and I suspect a major operation will not make it easier...always be prepared! My Boy rifled through my bag the other day, picked up the breast pump (while I was on the phone) and said “toot toot!” into the boob bit, as though it was a trumpet! Almost dropped the phone.

Stretchy gauze hospital knickers: bought from the NCT website, most comfy things EVER! Apparently, can be washed up to 10 times.

Nursing bras in huge sizes. They were all too small last time....

Reusable breast pads

Lansinoh nipple cream...hoping to get it on prescription, it's quite expensive but oh-so worth it.

Maternity/breastfeeding nightwear. Don't bother with a dressing gown. Too hot on the wards.

Bottles of lucuzade & a bottle of cordial. I don't do water, and need to keep hydrated for breastfeeding!

“The Food of Love: your guide to successful breastfeeding” by Kate Evans. Checkout my review. Hospital bag essential.

For the operation:

Jane Green's new paperback (my 2nd fave chick lit author) for the possibly long wait for surgery. And, also useful for endless breastfeeding, as you have a free arm!

Blooming Birth by Lucy Atkins & Julia Guderian. It has a chapter on cesareans, and I found it invaluable last time to stop me feeling so scared of labour. It's an amazing read. Mine is excessively dog-eared, highlighted and stuffed with post-its.

Rescue Remedy pastilles & frankincense essential oil: to keep me relaxed as I have my tummy sliced open....

Travel sickness bands: for possible nausea caused by the epidural.

Camera & tripod: for taking pics minus the (inevitable) shaking hands. And possibly get one of all 3 of us, with timer, without having to ask the midwife.

Music: I've left it to HID to choose. He chose our wedding first dance and I loved it. So did the guests, although no one had ever heard of “The Bees”!

My birth plan.

Cesarean support belt (can be heated or cooled), bought for 99p from ebay!

Then I also had a genius idea of packing a second bag. Last time I stayed in for four days, and felt I came out too early, so this time, depending on how busy the ward is & how I feel, I intend to stay longer. But, HID is not great at being asked to bring extra things in (that require knowing where we keep the clothes and other apparently non-essential items), so I'm packing another bag, with “extra” everything in it, and mine and baby's going home clothes. (Just a tip, pack very baggy and comfy clothes to go home in. You will be sore and car journeys are not comfortable). So I can literally give him a bag full of washing (which he will probably get my mum to do), and ask him to bring in the other bag, knowing it will have spare nappies, maternity towels and everything, already in it. So he can't mess it up!

Help: your cesarean experiences/ideas!

2009-08-05T07:45:00.002Z

In a week, I will be seeing the consultant who is performing my cesarean. I've read as much as I can about the procedure, and I've crafted sort of a birth plan-cum-list of questions for the doctor, as I want to be prepared for what will happen to me and the baby, and hopefully have some control, and have a positive birth experience. I want it to be special, not terrifying like last time. I am a little squeamish, and I'm not much looking forward to the surgery itself. Can you think of anything I've missed out? What would you ask? What happened at your cesarean birth? I am a little nervous now, please help by leaving your comments.

How long after the operation will I be unfit to drive?

How long after the birth is my husband allowed to stay with us? (e.g. if c-section is done “after hours”)

Do you have “clip on cots” for surgery patients?

I would like to spend a few days of my recovery time at the local midwifery unit. When can I be transferred?

Can a midwife or the surgeon please narrate the operation, so I know what is going on.

Screen to be lowered at the moment of birth

Lights to be dimmed at the moment of birth, to calm baby

Can we take photographs in the theatre when the baby arrives? Is it ok to ask a midwife/other staff to take a picture of all three of us?

Can we have music on while the birth takes place?

Husband to discover the sex of the baby when it is born.

Baby to be quickly wiped, but passed to me unwrapped and naked.

I would like my hospital gown to be put on backwards so that I can have skin to skin contact with baby (if s/he is well) as soon as baby is born. And possibly some help to breastfeed in the table,if baby wants to.

If baby needs to be taken away for medical attention, husband to accompany baby.

To have the resuscitation unit & weighing scales in sight, and if possible, have the weighing delayed while we cuddle the baby for a while. Ditto washing & dressing, can this be done on the ward, after baby's first feed?

To keep baby with me in the recovery room.

Spirited baby

2009-08-04T07:06:00.001Z

This new baby is a mover. It is active. An hour will not pass without some kind of movement. And the turns and stretches it performs are by no means gentle. Months ago, before the movements even became that pronounced (at present you can easily see them from across the room, something that never happened with my first pregnancy), I had gone to bed early, and was only half aware of HID coming upstairs much later to get ready for bed. He spends ages in the bathroom, so by the time he entered the bedroom, I was fast asleep again. The baby suddenly gave an almighty kick! My entire body jumped as it tugged me out of sleep, and my eyes sprang open to find HID, leaning over the bed, face inches from mine, about to give me a tender goodnight kiss. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump!”. He was mortified. I explained that it hadn't been him that woke me at all, but the baby! We concluded that the baby must have been wide awake, and heard/sensed Daddy's approach, and wanted to get noticed. Oh my goodness, this baby will not be ignored!

Every single time HID and I hug now, he always gets kicked by the baby. I don't always register these kicks, as they are quite gentle compared to what I'm used to, but HID always tells me!

In my first pregnancy, I never really saw baby move under my skin. But I'm a little slimmer now, and the movements have been quite obvious, even under two layers of clothing, for sometime! My bump is also much bigger (but still tiny by everyone else's standards), and I think my belly button may pop out this time! And with six weeks to go, I'm already a little breathless and uncomfortable, having to sit up very straight to give the baby enough room.

I often get a persistent prod from the baby, (usually my right side, where it often gets stuck, and seems to favour) over and over again, but quite gentle. It feels almost like a pulse or heartbeat. Sometimes I can barely feel it. It happened while with my mum a few weeks ago, and she came over to feel it. She remarked on how big a kick it was! I disagreed, informing her how tiny it was in comparison to most.

Now regular readers may be aware that my first born was what some may call a “high-need” baby, and well, he's now a high-need toddler too (I'm guessing he may well be a spirited teenager as well...). This is one of the reasons (along with the general practicalities of already having any child, let alone having one that needs full damage-control to stop him ending up in casualty 24/7) that this pregnancy hasn't been dwelt on very much. Not just by me, but the whole family has been so busy enjoying Boy that we just sort of forgot to marvel at the bump, or sit around for an age discussing names, trawling round the shops for babygear, my Dad has even said he keeps forgetting I'm pregnant! But, with it's super-human kicks and somersaults, this little babe is not one that will be willingly ignored. It is constantly reminding me that it's here.

Something worrying though; I was chatting about baby's movements with my physiotherapist, who had two children, firstborn, a very active and boisterous boy, second, a contentedly quiet girl. She told a tale of how, in her second pregnancy her baby seemed to hardly move at all in comparison to her first. The midwife gave her a sort of tick chart, to monitor the movements of baby over 24hrs, which she did. When she handed it in the next day the midwife assured her that the kicks and movements she was feeling this time were entirely normal, and for interest, could she remember enough to fill out another chart for her first pregnancy, to compare? This she did, and the midwife remarked how very far from normal it was to have a baby that moved so much! The worrying thing in this story, is that my physiotherapist believes that her children's personalities were already shaped in the womb: the boy, even at nine years old, cannot sit still, and as a toddler was very hard work, just to keep up with him! The little girl, she says, is happy to sit doing jigsaws quietly, even from being very tiny, both exactly how they were in the womb.

This information does not bode well for me. In comparison to this pregnancy, my Boy hardly kicked or moved at all in utero, yet now, every moment that he is awake is spent moving (and quite a few moments in his sleep, judging my the positions he gets himself into in his cot). He does not walk, he only runs. Toys are interesting for a matter of seconds before being discarded for the next adventure. By 8.30am most mornings, he is crying at the front door to go out (anywhere) having exhausted all he can do within the confines of a house. So I am slightly worried that movements in the womb may reflect later tendencies for movement in general.....I am really not sure there even is such a child that is more active than the one I already have, and is there is, how will I cope with two, and even more action with the second??

Friends have comfortingly pointed out that there may be no link, or that this child is “getting it all out of its system” before being born. I thought, after last time, I might be due a placid, dare I think it, sleepy child. They say you usually get one of each...but they also say that the second born is usually the worst of the two....argh! (Otherwise, you'd have to be mad, like me, to have more...) I was also informed in my difficult last pregnancy, that if you have a bad pregnancy, usually you have a nice birth, or an “easy” baby.....zero out of three is not a good score. Then add on the terrible post-partum....ho hum. Am I in for another rough ride? Am I bothered? Ha ha, I laugh at the prospect of difficult children. You can't scare me, I already have one!

Growth Spurt

2009-08-02T10:58:00.005Z

A few days ago, I had an inkling that the Boy may be having a growth spurt. I don't usually notice any actual growth until I'm stretching his nappy tabs to get them to meet, or have finally stopped having to roll up sleeves and legs on his 9-12 month clothes (yes, folks, he's almost 20 months old. But I'm only 5ft, and HID is 5ft7, so Boy was never going to be tall was he? It is a bit annoying when all those thoughtfully bought jumpers and coats he received as Christmas gifts fit him in the height of summer. But then again, we do live in England).

The first difference was the sleep, and for once, the difference was an abundance of the stuff. For 4 or 5 days in a row, he was *sometimes* waking once during the night, begging to go to bed an hour before usual, and not getting up til 9am. 9am! I honestly didn't know what to do with myself. I was waking up at 7am, thankful for the extra half an hour I'd had in bed, and calculating I had no more than 15 minutes to shower and dress, so leaping into action. And two hours later, I'd be downstairs, looking immaculate (well, sort of), breakfasted and a few chores and my physio exercises done, twiddling my thumbs waiting to be graced with Boy's presence. All very strange (and obviously, wonderful), but I'd put it down to a very tiring and exciting weekend at Bug Jam, punctuated with broken sleep in a strange bed and late nights. This was as well as 2hr+ daytime naps (at least one).

But the main reason I suspected my Boy was growing like billy-o was his appetite. As a baby-led-weaned baby, he has always enjoyed food, especially trying new things, and I really don't think there is a food he has tried that he consistently dislikes. If I offer it to him again another day, he's suddenly in the mood for it! But he can go days without eating much at all, I've learned to trust that he knows exactly how much he needs, and if he doesn't touch breakfast, dinner and tea, and instead has a few bits of fruit or whatever one day, it's because he doesn't need it, and he'll catch up another day.

But I was eventually inclined to stop trusting his judgment of his tummy full/empty-o-meter one day recently at tea time. I'd made him quite a big bowl of pasta, I didn't expect him to eat it all, and he didn't. After most meals, I ask him if he'd like "something else". As adults, we sometimes don't always fancy what's on offer that day, or save room especially or desert, and I really don't see why it's any different for little ones, they just aren't as adept at telling us. So I ask. Sometimes he is genuinely full. Sometimes he has something sweet. Sometimes it's something savory. That day, it was a peach. He loves them, and ate literally every scrap. He looked pointedly at me and says "moaaar!" while pointing into his left hand, his version of the "more" sign.

So a plum was offered. And devoured. Ditto to the biscuit (not something usually given), the leftover pasta re-heated and re-offered, two bowls of natural yoghurt with raspberries mashed in, one bowl of vanilla ice-cream (don't judge me, I was rapidly running out of ideas!), and some of the lunch he had not eaten at lunchtime and was in the fridge for the following day. "Moaaar!" came the cry of the bottomless pit: "No," came the reply. "No more now." He was not impressed, and at bedtime drank a very full cup of milk within seconds, proof of his "empty" tum, but I
literally did not have another morsel to offer him without starting to cook (again)!

So I think he may have been using all his energy growing recently! Unfortunately, the sleeping is pretty much back to normal, i.e. a 7.30 pm bedtime, crying for, well, nothing really, at 11pm ish, waking at 4-5am for milk,then getting up around 6.30am. Great! He has also resumed a normal appetite. Which is actually quite a big one, my friends with same age children assure me. They do often wonder why he does not resemble a “michalin man” baby, he's not skinny, but there is certainly no baby-fat on him. Perhaps something to do with his “high need” -ness, i.e. unless he is asleep, and sometimes not even then, he is never still. I mean it. Never. He just doesn't stop. That's why he needs so much food and sleep! If I ran round as much as him, I would be a size 8 who dines on pizza and chocolate every night, and I'd definitely need an early night and a lie in!

Phew!

2009-08-01T18:31:00.002Z

I've finally managed to sort out whatever horrible mistake I made when editing my blog template, yey! Of course, that's thanks to the British Mummy Blogger's site, ask a stupid question, and you will get a helpful answer. And nobody thinks you're stupid. (Or at least they don't say it out loud...). So I've got a new look around here! But I've lost some of the changes I made, such as my blogroll, so I will try and edit them back in as and when I can.

Now I can get back to posting! There is a little question I've been wanting to ask my readers.My cesarean section is about 6 weeks away (I get a firm date in 2 weeks), and I was wondering if anyone out there (or your partner) has had a cesarean? What can I do to make it a positive birth experience? Have you any tips,for the day itself, and the recovery? Anything you wish you'd known/asked about/done differently?

I do plan to have my gown on backwards, so we can have skin to skin contact straight away, the screen lowered at the moment of birth, a midwife take a photograph....and for the recovery, I've bought arnica tablets and cream, my fabulous mother is taking my toddler out of my hair 7am-lunchtime, 5 days a week for 8 weeks, and my mother-in-law is staying with us in some of the early days to help too. Any other suggestions?

Review of an amazing breastfeeding book

2009-07-27T08:18:00.001Z

The Food of Love; your formula to successful breastfeeding, by Kate Evans

I finished this 207 page book in less than two days. It's so easy to read, I imagine you could have a fairly successful attempt at digesting it even in those hazy newborn days (sorry, weeks...), when you can't even hold a real conversation due to sleep deprivation! And, as the book itself sates on the second page, if you really are in that zombie-like state and can't possibly bear a book, and just need help with breastfeeding, there are loads of wackily drawn cartoons and diagrams to look at and to make you laugh, while informing you and banishing your fears/guilt at the same time. How did Kate Evans manage to do that?? Great!

The forward to the book is written by a midwife, who, as well as declaring the book “essential” reading for the 21st century mum, write that she wishes “the NHS could afford to hand out copies” to new parents,which sounded very promising to me. I wasn't disappointed!

The book covers topics such as how emotionally/psychologically we might (and do) feel uncomfortable with breastfeeding, and how it seems so silly to other cultures to have these hang-ups, all stemming from the sexualisation of breasts, which, let's be frank, are only really there for one job, and this is it. The cartoons are just great, and often left me thinking, “yes, that's how it should be!” while giggling at the same time. It has all the technical stuff: why breast is best, but delivered in a light-hearted way, that wouldn't make you feel like a terrible person if you read the book and then decided not to breastfeed. (Or couldn't for whatever reason). But if you did run into problems, and thought you couldn't feed, the book is PACKED with simplified trouble shooting for things like latching baby on, or how to get rid of blocked ducts, with funny and very clear illustrations, which at 3am is a lot more useful than the thought of your midwife visiting “first thing” or even the pain of calling a 24hr helpline (which, although comforting, doesn't show you visually how to do it).

So the book is very practical, as well a tickling your funny bone at every turn. It has some of the author's (and her family's) experiences, which helps with the concept that she's a real person, and has really done it (she boasts literally having had ALL the ailments in the problems section....and going on to extended breastfeeding!). And I love reading anecdotes in books like this, maybe I'm just nosy. There is advice on multiple births and special care babies: how feeding is different but still possible (and perhaps even more vital). For very new mums, it gives some great ideas about what to “do” when you're stuck in a chair breastfeeding (again). Yes, newborns feed all the time. All of it. Really. Her ideas are great (and funny), and I especially like her extra ideas for second (or third or more) time mums, who are also entertaining a toddler, that is, while feeding. Women are great.

One of the most lovely and comforting things I found about the book is comparing our modern babies to those they evolved from many moons ago. (Check out Cave Mother's blog for more of a day-to-day idea). It discusses how, to survive, babies needed to be near mothers, but that mothers had massive support from the community way back when: we are a tribal species after all. So yes, our babies may have been demanding to be held /fed all the time, but our older children would be off playing with the other children in the tribe, so you wouldn't have to entertain them, your sisters/aunties/mother would be doing all your chores, and your mother/older women in the tribe/teenage girls would coo over the baby, and swaddle and carry her when you needed a rest. It explains that for these purposes, all we have is cbeebies, take away food, a bouncy chair and internet chat rooms..... doesn't look great does it?

The book then helpfully points out, in my favourite cartoon of the lot, that babies in general (and I found great comfort in this, as it applied to my little boy very heartily, and no-one believed me/thought I was nuts or exaggerating) do not appreciate non-human company (i.e. that of bouncy chairs/mobiles/tv), but this is for evolutionary purposes. The cartoon depicts a happily cooing baby, content with its own company for hours on end. Then a tiger came and ate him all up! The second picture depicts another baby who screamed “as if a tiger was about to attack him” every time his mother put him down (is this sounding at all familiar??? This was my life for about six months!). The mother gives up and puts the baby in a sling and carries him everywhere. The tiger, skulking in the background, thinks; “drat, foiled again.” The line reads: “guess which baby yours is descended from?”. This really made me feel better! Babies aren't supposed to want to sleep alone in a cot or be happy in a door bouncer while you take a shower or cook tea! It was ok that my baby needed me 24/7, because that's what millions of years had taught him to do! I wasn't going nuts, and I didn't have the most difficult baby on the planet, I had a very clever baby. A normal baby. This was my favourite part of the whole book. :-)

The book gives lots of information about various aspects of attachment parenting. (For a more substantial, but defiantly less entertaining look at attachment parenting, read THIS.) It gives very easy to decipher diagrams of how to wear (and breastfeed in) slings, and the benefits of babywearing, and the benefits of pushchairs too! She really gives every option. There is advice on safe co-sleeping,and the (very funny) pros and cons to sharing a bed with your baby. (Pro: daddy and baby look so cute together! Con: baby has razorblades for toenails.) But the lovely thing about all this advice on attachment parenting is that Kate Evans explicitly says, throughout the book, that your baby isn't like the babies in the books, so you know her best, and should do what is right for your family, no matter who it goes against (the midwife, your mother, this book...). As a new mum, I would have loved to have “permission” to do things my way (something I'm so excited about this time round) as I just didn't have the confidence to ignore the midwife, or my mum, or the books! And since none of them agreed with one another, it was a very confusing time indeed....

There is also some very helpful advice and information about the baby blues and post natal depression. Not everyone is overjoyed when they hold their newborn in their arms. But that's ok. That's the message, and a very comforting one it is (and would have been, 18 months ago) to me. The book covers breastfeeding in public, something many mums dread while pregnant, and there's even a section about your looks:how you will be different (regardless of whether or not your breastfeed) and how to, in time, be ok with that. Information on how hubby may feel about feeding, and even how breastfeeding can affect sex (even contraceptively!) and when to stop breastfeeding, how to combine with formula, and how to deal with feeding a much older child, if you wish (like the World Health Organisation recommends, two or more years), all these topics you may not even have thought of, but may well crop into your lives now you have a baby, are covered,and in a non-preaching, humorous way.

All in all, every word in this book was as fun,entertaining and easy to read as a candy-floss chick-lit novel, but paced with vital information, and very useful advice and points of view.

The blurb on the back reads thus:
This book will tell you all the information you need to breastfeed successfully:
clear pictures and instructions for your first feeds
how to breastfeed in your sleep
advice on beating the baby blues
what dads can do to help
the art of feeding your baby in public
a guide to breastfeeding complaints
what to do if you return to work
the Mama Sutra- advanced breastfeeding positions
full-term feeding for the fainthearted.
PLUS it's full of fantastically funny illustrations and will stay open at the page so you can read it when both hands are full.
This book will not tell you how to look after your baby. Your baby is utterly unique, and not the same as any of those in the baby books.
Does it sound good? It does exactly what it says on the tin. Read it!

Squashed Biscuits: a recipe

2009-07-21T17:50:00.003Z

This is a post specially for Sandy, who is currently wondering if and what activities she should be doing with her 20 month old. I do agree, that it's hard with one so young, a.) to get them interested (and keep them interested!) and b.) the fine motor skills needed often just aren't there yet, particularly in boys, and this makes for mess in lots of activities. My answers to these are a.) let them flit: if I make these biccys, Boy will pop into the kitchen every 5mins or so to help, then go off to play when he needs a rest from the cookery. b.) the mess: teach them to help clean. Boy loves "putting right" what he has made messy. You may have to clean twice :-).

100g flour
100g dried fruit (I use raisins)
2 tbsp flaked almonds
100g oats
100g butter
1 whole mashed banana
1 tsp mixed spice
1 egg
If desired, 1 tsp golden syrup (or add more dried fruit for sweetness, cranberries or chopped apricots are nice)

Rub the butter into flour and oats and spice, sit your toddler on the work top, and get them to add the raisins, handful by handful, a very important job. Have extra raisins on hand for eating :-). Next job: get toddler to chop the banana with a butter knife, then mash it in bowl. Then mix in the mashed banana and the egg. (And syrup, if desired. Fun to watch for toddler!) Shape into balls and then flour toddler's hands, (may have to do this repeatedly!) let your child squish them into flattish circles about 7-8mm thick. This is the best bit. Or do it yourself if you prefer nice-looking evenly cooked biscuits without holes. Cook on a baking tray in the oven at 190 (or 170 for fan ovens) until they look browned at the edges - about 8-12 minutes. Get toddler to sweep the floor and wipe the surfaces while cooking. Then, obviously, re-do his work....he's learning vital life lessons, he's not there yet though! My Boy does a special "squash" face to "tell" everyone how he helped make the biscuits!

Let's Play......tag!

2009-07-20T19:09:00.002Z

Thanks Amy, I was at a loss for something to do tonight, with HID out on his bike, but no more! I've been tagged, so I've to answer some questions and then pass it on to other bloggers I want to know more about.....yey, I'm so nosy.

1. Who is the hottest movie star?

Ewan McGregor, without pausing for breath...

2. Apart from your house and your car what's the most expensive thing you have ever bought?

A firework display for my wedding. It rained. Me & HID were the only guests that didn't watch from the windows, we stood outside under a fishing umbrella to watch. My dress was soaked....it was lovely :-)

3. What's your most treasured memory?

Being proposed to during a picnic on the beach in the Lake district (in the car: it rained, again!) as Beyonce's "Crazy in Love" came on the radio....

4.What was the best gift you ever received as a child?

My lilac mountain bike I got when I was 11, I still have it! It gave me the independence to do as I pleased.

5. What is the biggest mistake you've made?

Telling actual grown women who used to bully me at school the date and place of my wedding. The hateful bi**hes actually turned up drunk and scantily clad to the reception. My sisters got rid of them :-) but I so regret exchanging pleasantries with them that led to this, I should have never have been polite and said hello that day.

6. 4 words to describe myself

Ambitious, talkative, friendly, bossy.

7. what was my highlight or lowlight of 2008?

highlight- my baby's very first birthday

lowlight- (ongoing) recovery from the birth

8. Favourite film?

Hot Fuzz. "I'm not made of eyes!" *All Grown Up falls about laughing and misses next 3 mins of film*

9. Tell me one thing I don't know about you

I had pink hair, a la Kelly Osbourne, aged 17. (Red, aged 18, Green aged 20, Purple aged 23 [3 months ago!])

10. If you were a comic book/strip or cartoon character, who would you be?

Daddy Pig (as in Peppa Pig), he's just such a laugh!

So here are the people I'd like to play tag with, join in if you like, if not, enjoy reading this post! All these blogs are just lovely, so if you've not heard of them, get over there for a look.

West of the Pennines. She's deciding which side of herself to present to the dating world...scary! And delights us with the adventures of Sir Winge-a-lot Farty-Pants.

Driftwood Floating on the Water. She's recently had some confidence-boosting hot-tub fun!

Cave Mother. She's loving breastfeeding depicted as art. Isn't it always?

Slugs on the Refrigerator. She's attempting to become a crazy cat lady ;-) and is no doubt having potatoes for tea, in some form....

Baby Baby. She's on a winning streak! She deserves it after her sad week.

So enjoy the game girls! And a huge thank you to Dancinfairy at A Place of my Own, she's kindly awarded me the Honest Scrap award, and apparently, I'm twice as fabulous, as I have it already! Good luck with your imminent birth!

Bug Jam

2009-07-19T18:37:00.006Z

My Boys left me to it this weekend and traveled down south to Santa Pod Raceway to join in the fun at Bug Jam, the Volkswagen festival. HID and I had been a few times, we both love it, and I was a little sad to have missed Boy's first time due to illness, but HID took some great photos I just had to share!

Check out this car's sound system!

Loving the paint job on this one.

Green & mean

The jet car gets ready for take-off!

New-style beetle pulls a donut.

Dino-Beetle!

An awe-inspiring bike stunt!

A shot of the track at Santa Pod.

Furbie the beetle

Hot chevvy

Bounce like a rapper!

A must have item for any young festival go-er, be it music or cars: Peltor ear defenders to protect their precious hearing. Boy kept his on when he realised how noisy the jet cars, monster trucks & bikes were.

Purchase of the weekend from the "alternative" stalls on offer: a pair of baby Vans. So cute!

So while the boys had the time of their lives being noisy and eating junk food (and getting sunburned, argh!!! Factor 30 is going in the bin, bring on the 50+), I was all alone and housebound, having recently had to give up driving with my SPD. Grrrr. I was supposed to be resting, and I did! I slept, I bathed, I read, I watched Ugly Betty. But I also, sneakily, made 4 lasagnes and 4 cheese & veg pasta bakes for the freezer, washed the curtains, had a clearout for the charity shop and filled the newly acquired cupboard space with junk from the spare room (soon to be Boy's new bedroom as we will be needing the nursery...) and re-propped all the tomato plants that had fallen over in the rain. So quite dull and productive really!

But, as you can see, the boys, and Auntie C, had a great time. Bug Jam is a fab place for kids, the family camping is lovely and quiet too, and music goes off at 10pm. (Yes, there's music and comedy too.) So maybe I'll see you there next year, fully recovered, with two little monsters, not just one!

Harry Potter!

2009-07-16T08:25:00.003Z

Last night, my sister kindly took on childcare duties, while HID and I went n a date to see the new Harry Potter film. I am a huge, huge fan of the books, and also love the films (I'm not one of those that moans about the films being adapted too much from the books, I enjoy the films in their own right, and see them as an extension of the Harry experience!). HID loves the films, but hasn't read the books. We always make a point of seeing the Harry films as soon as they come out, there is nothing quite so fun as being in amongst all the hard-core fans, who not only laugh without reserve, but clap and you may even spot a few pointed hats amongst the dress code :-)

The frantic "shushing" that occurred as the lights dimmed only reinforced the audience's excitement, like me, their hearts were pounding with expectation!

I do not want to give too much away to those who haven't read the book but wish to see the film (or read the book ages ago, and can't remember every detail), but suffice to say, I REALLY enjoyed the film! Yes, it is dark and violent this time, but it was also by far the funniest of the Harry films. I don't often laugh aloud at films, but I was heartily guffawing along with everyone else. Some comedy highlights were: when Harry drinks the "Felix" and his confidence causes him to be more cheeky than necessary to Slughorn, classic! And at Slughorn's dinner party, Harry standing to greet Ginny, cringe, and I couldn't watch for crying with laughter as Hermione's love interest seductively licked chocolate sauce off his fingers....eeeew! And of course, Ron was a laugh a minute, as always. Loving Rupert!

As a fan of the stories, I would have liked a few more of the Riddle memories, I am a little dubious about how they will continue into the next film as Harry doesn't seem to"know" enough. I am very glad they left out the funeral scene, I'm not sure my hormonal emotions could have coped! I did enjoy the sort of "wand salute" that wasn't in the book, a touching addition.

Harry and Ginny's first kiss was gorgeous. If was so intimately done, I felt an intruder on their lives and momentarily looked away from the screen.

What we did remark as we left was: it wasn't long enough! Well, we would have liked more. More story, more action, more of Mr & Mrs Weasley, of Hagrid. It has made me very excited about the Deathly Hallows! If you're a fan, it does not disappoint.

Another fab competition!

2009-07-15T11:57:00.002Z

Get over to A Modern Mother: she's got a great pampering give-away!
I'm being pampered tonight; HID is taking me to see the new Harry Potter film, I'm such a huge fan, of the films and the books, I really can't wait!

birth to now: my post-partum recovery story

2009-07-14T08:28:00.005Z

Hopefully, you will have already read my birth story. This is part two! Thanks to those who left comments, I felt I could reply via ending the story. Each time I talk about what happened to us, as a family, I get a bit closer to being ok with it. I don't think I'm far off actually! With baby number 2 due in September, that is no bad thing.

I left the story on Christmas eve in the cesarean ward. That night, baby hardly slept. I was glad to be alone, as I paced the ward, babe in arms, softly singing Christmas carols, as I couldn't think of any lullabies! I tried to feed, but needed a midwife's help each time, and they were quite busy. In the morning, they asked how he had been for me, and upon my reply, stated he was a lucky boy to be seeing father Christmas! And in he walked, with a gift for me (something from Boots) and for Boy. Later, a brass band roamed the corridors playing Christmas carols. It was a lovely time to be in hospital.

I wanted to transfer back to the unit where I'd had my labour, for my recovery, the staffing ratios were much better, and I needed help with feeding, so after the cursory 24hrs, we packed up and left. I managed to get two Christmas dinners out of my timing of the transfer! I was one of only two patients in the unit, and I used the midwife buzz button every single time I needed to latch baby on: I did not want to become even more sore due to a poor latch. I was finding the first few moments of sucking a time to bite my lip and curl my toes, but I had very sensitive skin throughout pregnancy. Once, in my four night stay, I could not feed the baby alone, just couldn't get him on, and he was crying that awful newborn cry that breaks a mother's heart. I pressed the button and tried not to panic, I kept trying. No one came....for ten long minutes. Then a midwife ran in, barked that they were delivering a baby, and turned the button off. She disappeared. I started to cry. I tried and tried for another 15 minutes, and eventually calmed myself down enough to latch baby on. I was so pleased with myself, I felt I could cope with anything from now on. And I have.

When I left the unit, I was still taking paracetamol, diclofenac and dihydracodeine, all at the maximum allowed doses each day; I was noting down what I'd had and counting down the hours til my next hit each and every time. I've since read that it is unusual, even for cesarean patients, to need more than paracetamol after the first few days. I had no idea at the time, I didn't dwell on it, thinking, hey, I've just had a baby, I'm bound to be sore! So I continued to need and use the drugs. I remember my mum picking up my repeat persciption for me, and the pharmacist did not let her leave without quizzing her about whether I'd had the baby: she was not prepared to hand out drugs of that potency to a pregnant woman!

We were inundated with visitors in the early days, and I jumped to the challenge, making sure I was dressed, with neat hair and make-up, just as society expects new mums to bounce back. What an idiot I was. I should have been in bed recovering, not showing off to extended family and friends. The visitors dwindled, and I was left still sitting on a doughnut cushion, that is, if I was able to sit at all. Boy fed for and hour or more at a time, so I spent many hours laying on the rug in the living room with him, although he hated feeding lying down, so I had my work cut out. The midwives that came to visit in my post-partum were puzzled at my pain, suggesting endless salt baths which did not work, but the main concern was Boy losing more and more weight. He became skeletal by 4 weeks, and I began to supplement with formula. The health visitor that weighed him before we started on formula, and then one week later, was astounded by his leap in weight, having never seen such a dramatic gain in 10 years on the job. Looking back,and reading many books on breastfeeding in this pregnancy, I think that the pain I was in and perhaps the medication I was taking, affected my milk supply. Supplementing didn't help, and my Boy self-weaned from the breast by 4 months. I was heartbroken. I loved breastfeeding,and wanted to do the best for my child, but at 4m, I was still in pain. I am hoping that to breastfeed according to world health guidelines this time, that's two years and beyond ladies! (My breastfeeding issues are not really part of this story,but you can read more here.)

Just before my 6 week check, a concerned midwife insisted on taking a look at my stitches on the bed upstairs. I was unable to even let her touch me, let alone her suggestion of removing a few of the tighter stitches there and then. She said she thought I needed gas & air to be examined properly, and I gratefully agreed, relief washing over me as she arranged a hospital appointment for me.

At my six week check a few days later, the doctor asked me if I minded a student being present. I was concentrating hard on not letting my emotions get the better of me while I explained my issues to her, so without thinking, I agreed. The doctor then asked me to take a seat. Well, almost comically, I burst into tears, as I was still unable to sit down, and now the new baby glow had worn off, I was feeling well and truly sorry for myself. I can't imagine what was going through that student's head! The doctor sent for some local anesthetic gel to examine me, but again, I was completely unable to let her touch me, practically leaping off the bed in agony. She called the hospital and insisted my appointment be brought forward to that very afternoon, and gave me tubes and tubes of anesthetic to use as well as the gas and air. The gel did make the car journey on my kiddie's rubber ring slightly more bearable.

At the hospital, I slyly put on copious amounts of gel before my appointment. I was lain on the bed and given the gas & air for quite some minutes before they approached me to start the exam, so that it could take effect. When I was suitably "drunk", I gave the signal. However, I found it to be a repeat of the delivery room: breathe in the gas & air, SCREAM out, breathe in, SCREAM out. I endured this only as I knew they needed to examine me. Afterwards, the consultant explained she hadn't been able to touch the actual stitching, but that she had seen enough. It was a botched job. They had stitched me far, far too tightly, and every time I sat down (or even walked), I was stretching the scar tissue and being left in agony. I was booked in for reconstructive surgery. They were starting all over again, I was back to square one.

When my Boy was two months old, I was wheeled into surgery and put under GA, preparing myself to feel as bad as I did the day he was born, but this time without the happy hormones and adrenaline....The doctor explained I would be given a dose of paracetamol before I even awoke to combat the pain. As I woke, there were tears on my cheeks. The pain was near unendurable. I sobbed, asking the bewildered nurse for the paracetamol that had already been administered. She gradually upped the pain meds until I was on morphine, muttering to herself that she couldn't send me to the ward in this state. I was wheeled onto the ward when I had stopped crying. It was full of young women much less lucky than me: they had just had what was left of their babies removed from the womb after late miscarriages. I felt ashamed that I was even feeling sorry for myself, and as the pain returned and I could no longer hold in the tears, a kind young mum-no-more offered to shut my curtains so I could cry in peace, I was unable to move myself. I would put money on her thinking that I was there for the same reason she was. The other ladies around me recovered quickly and went home that day. I made the mistake of telling the nurses that I felt dizzy, and I was kept in. I missed my baby.

Back at home, it was like I'd just given birth all over again. Friends lifted my spirits by joking I'd had a designer vagina on the NHS! I had lots of saltwater baths to aid the healing, and kept ice-pops in my knickers for comfort. I saw a consultant gynecologist every few weeks at first, who's pity was apparent. He always started the visit with a rendition of "if it had been me that stitched you in the first place, none of this would have happened"....I hope he does my cesarean! He gave me "physio" to do: a selection on dildos increasing in size that I was to "practice" with every day to stretch me out. At first, I could not bear the tip of the smallest one, but gradually, things improved. Sex....well, sex was a test of endurance, not just physically, but an emotional fear of the pain, and for HID, the patience, love and understanding of a much better man than I could ever be. Romance was not an option. "Initiating" sex involved local anesthetic. Nice. Luckily, I was still able to orgasm :-). I saw it as my reward for having the actual sex :-)

When my baby was four months old, I was well enough to leave the house. By that point I had PND. That's another story.

I sat on a ring until my baby was six months old. At one gyne appointment,the doctor asked to see the wound, and "while I'm here" he said, could I just tense my pelvic floor. Well, before I even became pregnant, I had been practicing 4 sets of 10 repetitions of holding for 10 second each, as recommended, but no one really does. I was proud of how dedicated I was, and surprised I could still feel the muscles, and tense them, less than two days after the birth. So I tensed, with all my might. I felt suitably smug when he stated it was the best pelvic floor he had EVER seen after a 3rd degree tear! An odd thing to be so chuffed about, but circumstances do strange things to you....

Eight months after the birth, the doctor told me the lack of improvement that had been going on for some time indicated I had permanent nerve damage. That's right: the way sex felt right now, well it would always feel that way. And the tender, swollen feeling I get when cleaning myself? Why, get used to that being normal. He then added that all my subsequent births must be via cesarean. Oddly, in my slightly flustered state, I panicked about something I'd read and blurted out: "but you can only have three sections can't you??" (as if at this point in my life, I was considering having more than four children.) Keeping a straight face, the deadly serious consultant told me he had done seven on one lady. Well that sealed it. I definitely wasn't having eight children. The saying "never say never" does not apply!

I left feeling confused. One the one hand, I would never again have to go through what I had been through the past eight months. On the other, the home birth I'd wanted with my second child (albeit when I was pregnant with my first and HID was talking me out of a home birth that time around) would never, ever happen. And I was left damaged forever. It did make one decision for me: I could have more children. I didn't have to be scared anymore, or wait for the memories of childbirth to fade. At Christmas time, after my last appointment at the gyne ward (there was nothing more they could do), we said goodbye to condoms. Three weeks later, I was staring at a positive pregnancy test, overjoyed. We had moved on, we were happy, I may never heal, but for two healthy babies it is a very, very small price to pay.

My birth story: read at your own peril

2009-07-13T16:52:00.007Z

After reading posts here and here, I've decided to be brave, and possibly stupid, and write down what happened to me in the days leading up to the birth of my son, my birth story! Now this post isn't intended to shock or frighten, and it will not make good reading for pregnant ladies, thanks for your visit, but perhaps turn around now. If you choose to read, remember that my case is really very rare and it won't happen to you. And you'll get your baby in the end, whatever happens. I've found that as a mum, I'm ridiculously interested in people's birth stories, and I feel that sharing mine is like therapy. Plus, if I blog it, I can tell it start to finish without some other mum at a baby group interrupting with "oh, yes, that happened to me, but we did this next..." !

I was in slow, early labour for around two days before things really kicked off. I knew I was in labour (something I was worried about: how will I know?? I just knew) but I didn't tell anyone, I just got my tens machine out and asked HID if we could check how it worked "just in case". I'm glad I did this while I was still in low-level (period type) pain. On the 23rd December at 2am, I could no longer sleep through the pain of contractions (I was possibly being a bit dramatic at this point) and woke HID to help me fit the tens to my back. By 8am, contractions were 5 mins apart, I couldn't "talk" through the pain, and had been that way for an hour. All the signs that birth will happen fairly soon, and the books say to get to hospital. So I rang the maternity ward, and my mum and sister (who I'd planned to support me in labour) and took a few last minute pictures of the bump under the Christmas tree.

The 20 min journey was agony, every bump so uncomfortable. We arrived before mum & sister. The midwives greeted us while I had a contraction, they stated by the look of me, we'd have baby pretty soon! But could we just examine you. Although I didn't want any unnecessary internal exams, I was at a midwife led unit, and these exams were the only way of monitoring me. Nonetheless, I found it SHOCKING how painful I found the exam (this hasn't happened to other women I've asked) and the midwife was horrified and apologetic as I sobbed throughout the exam. The result wasn't even worth it! I was less then 1cm, and advised to go home. The midwives were baffled, as the pain I was in didn't compute with my "progress". But home I went. I knew I was in for a lot of pain at that point, and made the decision to myself that I didn't want my mum and sister to see me in so much pain, and so after then we didn't contact them until the baby was born.

I tried to sleep between contractions, they had slowed by this point. I didn't really get much rest. As the day wore on, I was finding the contractions were sparking off my SPD pain in a big way, and standing was very painful (but anything else was excruciating), and I had my tens cranked to max, and was clinging on to HID, who pushed my hips together ans swayed with me through each contraction, which seemed to help. Most of the pain was in my back. I've since heard that back labours can be more painful. At teatime, without even bothering to get dressed this time (I really didn't care) we headed back to the hospital. I though I'd done really well lasting so long alone at home with my tens! The second internal exam begged to differ, it was as painful as the first (more so, as by this time to lie on my back was very painful) and I was only 3cm. The midwives seemed a bit worried and started to fill the pool for me, and I started on gas & air.

The gas & air didn't really take away the pain, it made me a bit less aware of it though, and I found it most comforting to feel as if I was "actively" relieving my pain by sucking on the mask. I got into the pool and felt better, but still in a lot of pain. As the night continued, I used lots of gas & air (12 cannisters! Plus whatever I had from the supply that runs out of the walls later on). I felt extremely panicky each time a canister ran out and the midwife had to fetch a new one, thinking that I was just barely coping with the current pain, if the gas & air was allowed to wear off, I was beside myself worrying about how painful it would be. The midwife noticed (I had not) that I was indeed taking gas & air constantly, and asked me to just use it during a contraction. This is when I realised that my SPD pain had become so severe it had merged into my contractions, and from about midnight, I was experiencing one long contraction, with no break at all.

I do remember (I was not very with it on all that gas & air) asking HID, who gets bad headaches without proper sleep and regular drinks, how he was over and over in between puffs of the mask. The midwife found this amusing and told me to concentrate on what I was doing! After 4 hours, it was the unit's policy to get me out of the pool unless I was ready to push. I tried to buy time by asking what it would feel like (the words of a woman who is nowhere near ready to push), and it took them half an hour to coax me out of the pool. The pain increase was instant as I got out, the midwife picked up on this and gently offered more pain relief, even though I'd said I wanted a drug-free labour. I said no, and she said she would examine me to see how long I might have yet to go, as I may reconsider. It took her another 30 mins to convince me to lie on the bed (it was agony to lay on my back) and she confirmed I had a long way to go. I tearfully accepted the pethidine, and asked how long it would take to work. "About 15 minutes". Fifteen minutes later, I was howling at said midwife that it wasn't working.....and it never did. 40 minutes later, she sat me down and gently said: "here at our unit, we don't recommend epidurals. However, I recommend you get an epidural. The ambulance to the hospital is on the way." I could have wept with relief.

The journey was slow and very uncomfortable: a belt was fastened around my middle and I hated it. I remember thinking: "I'll probably not get to go in an ambulance again, and I'm not in danger right now, just labour, I should enjoy the ride!" What was I thinking of?? HID later told me that for some reason, they stopped at every traffic light on the way....at 3.30 in the morning. Why?

In hindsight, I think I started pushing in the ambulance. When I arrived at the hospital, the midwife examined me and told me it was too late for an epidural (the journey must have speeded things up) and did I feel like pushing. Well, you could not have paid me a million pounds to stop myself from pushing! Something completely primal and animalistic came over me, and I finally felt in control of my labour again, I could see the end, and I was running full pelt towards it. The midwife, strangely, after all they go on about in "parentcraft" classes, attempted to lay me on my back. In a state no longer fit for communication, I would have complied (and endured agony in my back), but HID stepped in and insisted I give birth on all fours, like I'd planned if I wasn't in the pool. He had listened! All that time I spent preparing him had really paid off, and saved the day. I sucked more gas & air from the mask and looked at HID with eyes that said "help me, I need you". Tears silently poured down his face. I was glad I hadn't put my mum through this.

Somewhere in the fug of too much gas & air, I heard the midwife say: "the harder you work, the quicker the baby will be born!" So I (stupidly) thought, right, sod waiting for contractions, I'll just push! So from then on, I pushed with all my might pausing only to breathe. I could feel, and HID told me, that the head was slipping back each time a contraction ended. This was devastating, undoing all my hard work. So I worked harder, and stopped noticing the pain so much. I can honestly say I almost enjoyed the pushing stage. At least I was "doing" something to end it all! At some point, my waters broke, and the midwives said there had been meconium, and the baby will need to be taken away, possibly to be resuscitated, straight away. I was thankful they had told me in advance, so I didn't panic. A clip was put on his head.

The baby was born after less than an hour's pushing, at 4.20am. The midwife tried to get me to sit back on my heels to see him, but all I could think about was the mess!! I'm not sitting in all that mess!! Baby was fine, and they laid me down, and he latched straight on to my breast to feed, perfect. He had lots of black hair, we'd expected red, like HID's! And I think we were a bit shocked he was a boy too, although we'd never said out loud we had thought it was a girl. But it was like, who are you?? The placenta was born, I felt a sensation of relief and there it was.

They seemed to think I had torn (I had no real sensation or brain functioning at this point), so my legs were put in stirrups and HID took the baby while I was examined. I remember telling him to take off his t-shirt, so the baby could have more skin to skin contact! The doctor started to examine me. I screamed! It was the worst pain I'd EVER felt, and I'd just delivered a baby. I was told to use gas & air. I breathed in and SCREAMED out and breathed in and SCREAMED out.....they decided they couldn't examine me without anesthetic, so I was prepared for theatre,and had an epidural. (Bit late for that!). HID was left with the baby, while I chatted easily with the staff, I'm not sure it had hit me that I'd just become a mother.

I was awake for the procedure, but I asked if they minded that I sleep, as I couldn't feel a thing, so I slept while they repaired my 3rd degree tear for four hours. (Third degree tear means, don't read if you don't wish to know, that I was left with just one hole, instead of a vagina and anus, just a big gaping hole). In the recovery room, the nurse let me use the phone to call my mum. She was also on her mobile talking to HID! She was ecstatic.

I was wheeled onto the ward. I don't remember being re-united with the baby and HID, but I must have been! I was the only one in the ward (which was for c-section patients), and I had to wear special electronic boots to keep my circulation going. Family came to see me (the midwives didn't bother too much that they were too early, of that there were loads of them, as it was Christmas eve). We had two names for a boy, one decided on a whim a few days before. My mum asked me his name. HID and I hadn't discussed it, but we looked at one another and said his name in unison, the one we'd liked all along. Mum cried, she loved it, everyone did.

My post - partum story in a post to follow....

Wordless Wednesdays

2009-07-08T08:46:00.004Z

Thought I'd jump on the bandwagon, sorry for the lazy post! Yesterday, I panicked when I realised I was 30 weeks pregnant, and read somewhere I should have a hospital bag packed by 36 weeks...so I went out and treated myself to a new holdall, and hunted out all of Boy's old newborn things to pop in it. He was 7lb13 but needed early baby clothes as he was so tiny. The picture depicts a babygro he currently wears, and one that was too big when he was born. How did my baby get so big?! *Sob*!

Also: check out "and 1 more means 4", there's a great giveaway!! Always worth an entry right?? For even more chances for this stay at Alton Towers, try Perfectly Happy Mum too!

Sunday can't come soon enough

2009-07-07T19:11:00.005Z

I miss my mum. She has been on holiday in Canada for the last nine days and is not due home until Sunday. Is not that I miss HER as much as I should, but the unquestioning, anytime, joyfully given help she bestows on me in caring or hr beloved grandson while I struggle through the pain of SPD. I have quite clearly been taking this for granted, as I've not realised until now how great I have it. I had been able to ring her if I was having a painful day, and either go round to visit, and have a nice sit down and watch while she plays with Boy, running around and doing all the things I can't with him, or dropping him off for a few hours on my own. Instead, I'm dauntingly on my own ALL DAY from waking up until half an hour or so before Boy's bedtime. To set the context, I have a high-need, on the go, high energy toddler who enjoys going out at least once day to do even more high-energy, on the go stuff outdoors/in the company of others. Most days, we wouldn't even get to 8am before he is crying at the front door, or if he's being very easy-going, the back door. Come teatime, even as an able-bodied un-pregnant mum I have been in the past, I've completely exhausted our supply of parent-toddler groups/walking in the sling/playdates/swimming pool/library/visits to shops or garden centres/all the toys and books that reside in our house. And now I'm a mum that can't walk more than a few steps without wincing, and later holding back tears, can't sit on the floor to play, can't carry an 18 m old (no matter how much he begs, and yes it breaks my heart when he brings me the sling an cries to go in it), and, as a new development, is finding it increasingly painful to drive. In fact, I've stalled my car due to pain holding the clutch. (How much longer am I safe to drive?)

These points are not leaving me with many options for entertaining a small boy (never mind keeping on top of housework), but any suggestions would be most, most welcome. About two months ago, a lady at a parent-toddler group sympathetically approached me and asked how on earth I was coping, as I used my crutches to hobble to my car with my son in a sling on my hip. (Add two months or my condition deteriorating & bump and toddler growing to this scenario). She suggested I give homestart, a charity that helps families that need it, and see if they could help me. After a home visit, I was declared a "high priority" case, and skipped the waiting list. (I was on said list when I suffered a bad post-partum with my last baby, but by the time the 4 m wait ended, I felt much better and passed up my place to someone more in need). I was assigned a volunteer, who seemed lovely, to show up the next week for 3 hours, to play with Boy, or help us go out to a group perhaps. (I need someone to carry my toddler and bag, an to run around after him while we are there.) I planned my day around the schedule, as many of you know, it is hard to organise naps and mealtimes round a small child if you wish to leave the house, especially with one who has no set routine, but still has two naps a day!

1st time: she rang the day before, she was ill, re-schedule for following week. A little disappointed, but understanding.

2nd time: she rang the morning of: hubby slipped a disk, must take to casualty. Gosh how terrible! But sort of ruined our day. Starting to wonder if she will bother next time....

3rd time: 10 mins before she is due to arrive, the phone rings. I have just risked telling Boy we are going swimming, as she can't possibly cancel this late. I've spent time packing a bag, and Boy is currently crying at the front door to go swimming. She claims she thought it was yesterday and she had turned up to en empty house (I was at yet another hospital appointment). She asks me if it's ok to "not bother this week". I burst into uncontrolled tears. I've apparently finally found a way to get her here. Guilt. A wonderful time was had by all at the pool and I don't even mind her only staying with us 1.5hrs out of the arranged 3hrs. As she leaves she informs me that....

4th time: arranged to helping me attend a hospital appointment as my mum is on holiday and can't babysit. (I dislike taking Boy along for him to have to sit still and wait patiently while he watches mummy in lots of pain having needles inserted into her back for 20 mins. Perhaps not the best of childhood memories.) She tells me 4 days in advance that she is taking her dad to the doctors that day. I'm sympathetic and grateful she has (possibly) given me enough time to find a babysitter. Luckily, I do. By complete fluke, my sister is off work.

5th time: she rings tonight to cancel our swimming date tomorrow lunchtime. Dad's health again. I try to sympathise. I am overly polite through gritted teeth. Luckily, I've not packed the bag yet. I had got my hopes up though. Especially as my mum is away.

It's been pointed out to me that if I had never been offered this help, I wouldn't feel so upset/put out/angry when it doesn't arrive. Perhaps this is true. Those little words on my calendar, that I've planned my day around, wouldn't hurt so much if they had never appeared there. I am considering ringing the charity and asking for another volunteer, perhaps one with fewer commitments. They did say I could if we "clashed", but I feel I would come across as terribly ungrateful.

So I'm really not sure what to do tomorrow. Two of my friends who usually help me out lots (and thus not feel quite so guilty about asking my mum to do everything for me) are both away for the next few days, and I miss them too. Other brilliant timing: the weather has finally broken,and the rain is preventing us from going in our small but boredom-saving garden, I've been diagnosed with anemia (on Monday) and I'm still waiting for the tablets to make me feel a bit more "with it". Our huge fridge-freeze has finally given up today, and I've been frantically ringing local relatives to beg for freezer room, lest my lovingly prepared, from scratch family meals all go to waste. And I'm figuring out how to feed a family with only cupboard items......at times like these, I would usually just trot off to my mum's to get fed and for all the answers generally....god, mums are ace.

I am very reluctant to let Boy watch TV as much as he wishes while I'm in pain, partly because we would quite possibly watch upwards of 8 hours of Peppa Pig (he cries at anything else. Including when the adverts come on, and we only have so many episodes in the sky box.), but mostly because I lapsed my own rule on maximum 20 mins a day, when he was teething, and it's ONLY JUST got back to normal, i.e. not "asking" for TV all day every day and throwing massive paddies every time it's refused....it makes it harder on me in the long run.

So I'm feeling like a bit of a crappy mummy at the moment, very selfish for getting pregnant, and putting my son through such a rubbish time while I get to my due date. Especially as I knew I was very likely to get SPD in this pregnancy too. After all, mums don't get sick days.

To cheer myself up up, I'm heading over to the Brits in Bosnia to see if I can finish reading the British Mummy Bloggers Carnival before bed. You will find my post on my favored baby products on there this fortnight! I've enjoyed reading the entries so far.

one and a half

2009-07-05T16:41:00.003Z

This weekend we have celebrated our little boy's half-birthday. The reason we have decided he's a special as the Queen, and deserves two birthdays, is that he was born on Christmas eve. Which was lovely and magical and everything, but it makes for crappy childhood birthdays. You'd think I'd know better than to get up the duff in March, as my birthday is just a week before his (not a cheap month for HID, with wedding anniversary too) and even that was crap as birthday's go. Last year, for his 6 m birthday, we did wrap him up some toys, but he got so much for his real birthday and Christmas last year (we spent almost 2 weeks unwrapping) we decided he didn't need presents, and just did nice things and cake (pictured above, before I added his name & the icing dried) instead.

So on Friday night I baked a cake while HID rode his bike to the coast to watch the sunset. After an unexpected lie-in til 8am on Saturday, (giving husband and wife some much needed early morning nookie time) I was treated to some "alone time" (which I spent icing said cake, and returning books to the library, and sleeping) while Daddy and Boy bonded at the zoo. I missed out on his first go on the zoo's train :-( and first look at the new penguin enclosure. We have season tickets, so we do go quite a lot. It's great actually, no stress to cram everything in in one day, if baby gets tired, we leave and come back next week. That evening, we went to a friend's for tea, and our little angels enjoyed playing in a puddle-strewn garden, and we shared out birthday cake. It was surprisingly lovely to be out of the confines of our own four walls in the evening time, chatting to grown-ups that were not HID. Even though we were home by 8.30, it felt like a night out, and really put my social-o-meter back to full. (Well, as full as it will be with a young family). HID and I even ended up watching a film on a whim, which was immensely enjoyable, just to put chores aside and be together.

Boy's morning nap on Sunday lasted til midday, which gave us a chance to pack a bag to go swimming when he woke, and on the way we looked for somewhere to eat lunch. We planned to go to a local-ish pub called the Wheatsheaf, but were dismayed to find the carpark overflowing (meaning a very long wait, if we found a table at all). We did see their new specials board outside though: which now had each meal's "food miles" noted next to it! I knew they sourced local, fresh produce, but this eco-pub was amazing. I plan to return (having booked a table) with some like-minded mummy friends soon, for a special occasion that hasn't yet occurred to me, as mine is the next birthday in the group (December). We did return to a trusty, more local to home pub (The Plough), that makes gorgeous meals from scratch, so I love taking Boy there and have no qualms about what nasties might be in his meal. There is so much choice! It must be the only pub in the North West with over 10 vegan items on the menu, and an exotic mixed grill including wilderbeast and kangaroo (or fish mixed grill with shark etc). Although I can't imagine these particular dishes have low-food-miles.

We decided to eat outside, and after being bamboozled by the regular menu on the chalk board (which must contain in excess of 100 dishes, excluding deserts and specials), I decided to browse only the light bites lunch menu, and discovered, delightedly, that there is no "children's menu" as such, but a selection of "smaller appetite/younger diners" dishes, that included small portions of normal adult meals (precisely what Boy would eat at home), such as steak (!) and a small pasta menu! We ordered bacon & pesto pasta for Boy, and relaxed in the baking sunshine, slathered in cream, while Boy chased around other small children and generally begged food and tried to escape the beer garden. I was pleasantly surprised to see smokers stayed well away from playing children. Our meals were well worth the long wait, and we all enjoyed the birthday lunch. (Local bloggers/readers please email me for pub locations if you like the sound of them).

Then off to the swimming baths, one Boy and I hadn't frequented before. He walked from the car to the door beautifully, holding my hand all the way, even when distracted by bigger children. I made a real meal of praising this lovely behavior, as it has not yet occurred consistently. I think he may have been a bit tired for the actual swimming bit of the visit, or unsure of the new surroundings, but he didn't enjoy it as much as he usually would a trip to our local pool. However, he was much calmer about getting changed afterwards, which is not the usual drill, let me tell you! So I was quite pleased about that.

I got Boy dressed while I was wrapped in a towel and HID got himself dressed, then the boys disappeared off to the Halfords next door to look at boy things that don't interest me, so I could get changed in peace. Unfortunately leaving me to carry the heavy bag, packed for the three of us, to the car (obviously parked as far away from the door as we could manage). After a full on day, my SPD pain was leaving me with quite a pronounced limp (and probably an attractive grimace to match) , which prompted a young mum to hold open the door for me, and unwise move, as it was taking me forever to cross the small room. I called to her and explained, ("save yourself, I'm not worth it!") but she insisted. Into the foyer I hobbled, touching my swollen tummy and proclaiming "the joys of pregnancy, eh?!" as I thanked her, in the hope that she didn't think me a clumsy fat girl who had hurt her leg. I managed to maneuver the final set of doors solo, and I was out into the carpark.

The little scene in the foyer prompted a very worried looking pool manager to rush out after me, inquiring of my welfare. The poor bloke was obviously panicking that I'd been hurt on his premises and would be suing within the week, what a wonderful culture we live in. I explained I usually use crutches due to my pregnancy condition, but there were more hassle than help in places such as swimming pools. He was so delighted that my condition was not down to negligence on his part, that we offered to carry my huge sports bag to my car for me, even when I pointed out it's location. I think this may be my first act of pregnancy-chivalry performed by a stranger, and I was beaming by the time I had hobbled to the car!

A wonderful weekend was had by all, and Boy is currently napping in his cot, and HID sleeping it off on the sofa. I'm not sure he realises I do this all day every day....ha ha, bless him.

Our summer in pictures

2009-07-03T11:09:00.004Z

As the rain starts to fall where we are, I'm letting you in on our summer today, in the hope that it's not all over! Here's what we have been doing:

Cross dressing!

And again...

Gardening: here is our first pumpkin flower

Trusty sand and water play

Staying indoors between 11am and 3pm: here we are at our local soft play group

More Playgroup!

And a little rest is needed after all that fun.