24 Hours of Freedom
If you read last week’s BritMums blog prompt post, you’ll have an idea of the kinds of things we want to cover in this blog. So far, we’ve posted about the joys and trials of motherhood, various socio-political issues around parenting, toddler activities and even a recipe, but we haven’t posted much about ensuring that you don’t get lost in the role of parent and you still do things for yourself.
Therefore today I want tell you about a 24 hour period where I did a number of the things that I used to take for granted before the Munchkin.
The weekend before last, hubby and I finally managed a night away together.
the secret story i kept inside of me.
I had a loving boyfriend I was happy…. for about two weeks then things slowly changed, he started insisting on coming with me everywhere, we were inseparable before but this was different, if I needed to go to the garage for a drink or a ciggie (which my parents still didn’t know about) then I would have to call him to come with me, I lived a few houses from the garage, it took him longer to get to mine then if I walked there and back. Then I couldn’t see my friends without him there, I couldn’t even go out for a ciggie…. then he started saying stuff… hurtful things, like “no one else will ever love you” or say weird things like “I will be able to tell if you sleep with anyone else” “you look horrible” “why are you wearing that you can’t wear skirts anymore or small tops you need to cover up” but he did it in a nice way and I believed him… I believed every word that came out of his mouth, so I stopped wearing my normal clothes and wore his baggy hoodies and coats stopped putting makeup
Counting my blessings
Our arrival in India was not unlike being thrown into a giant jar full of hundreds and thousands, the lid screwed tightly back on and then shaken to the heady beat of a thousand piece rock band. A delicious, vibrant assault on the senses.
Little did we know but my friends and I had arrived on the last day of the Hindu Festival of Ganesh Chaturthy, which is celebrated with the belief that this is the day that Lord Ganesha bestows his blessings on his devotees. Soon after we disembarked our dusty luggage into our clean, but basic rooms, we were swept up into an effervescent, jubilant procession through the overcrowded streets of our new home, where devotees passionately sang, danced and wantonly threw vividly coloured paint powder into the stifling, humid air to the wild beat of Indian tabla drums. Time lost all significance until we finally reached the top of a bridge and the procession abruptly stopped.
Childbirth – are our bodies designed for it?
FACT OF THE DAY: Walking and talking are the reasons why women risk their lives each time they give birth
It’s sometimes said that a picture can speak a thousand words. I think this is one of those pictures:
DARK SOLID OVAL = size of baby’s head
WHITE OVAL = size of pelvic outlet
If I had to draw a picture of what labour felt like, I think it would look something very like the circles on the far right. Ouch!
I felt a moment of recognition when I saw this picture in Sarah Blaffer Hrdy’s book about Mother Nature.
Just look at that large dark circle!
It seems that when people tell you that your body is designed for childbirth, they’re lying….
What our bodies are designed for is being intelligent and walking upright on two feet. The net result of this during childbirth is a large head full of brains, being pushed out of a small, tilted upright, pelvis.
Like this? Read more…
A Well Dressed Sewing Machine – Cover Tutorial
My poor sewing machine works hard and has to put up with my creative tantrums and cursing, so it’s time to show some love by making a pretty little cover for it.
Dust and fluff can cause havoc with the internal workings of your sewing machine so always try and cover it, or keep it stored in a cupboard. This machine was supplied with a plastic cover when I bought it, but there was always an air of ‘body bag’ about it… *shudder*
Not content to do things the easy way, I decided I wanted a cover with access to the carry handle on the machine.
Here’s what I did…
I have always been able to boast about what good sleepers my children are. In bed by 7pm and waking up the following morning at 8am – not bad hey?!
So why is it that on the rare occasion that they decide to ‘play up’ it’s a night when Daddy is working? It’s not as if they know that he is working as he is still here when they go to sleep but they seem to have the ability to wake and decide that I must be lonely in that big double bed and feel the need to come and keep me company.
Eau d’onion anyone?
Am I the only one who, since becoming a mum (or dad?) have let themselves go a bit?
I do try to leave the house in the morning with a modicum of decency, bit it is increasingly difficult lately!
Take last week for example. Trying to be efficient mum, I whipped up a bolognaise sauce before taking the children to school. Impressive? Very! Unusual? Very! But I was feeling really smug that I had actually achieved something at that time of the day other than sitting in my chair and moaning about being tired!
I kept getting a waft of a strange smell.
When do Children Stop Believing?
“So, all I do is leave my tooth underneath the pillow and the Tooth Fairy will come, yeah?!”
“Yup!” I lie.
“But what happens if the tooth falls on the floor?”
“It’s okay, the Tooth Fairy will know where it is. She has very special equipment to track your tooth down. That’s how she finds you in the first place,” I continue, grimacing at how easy these words seem to flow from my mouth, whilst simultaneously trying to coax my 5 year old into bed.
“Oh…” My son seems crestfallen for a moment. “But I thought she just uses magic?”
“Er…!” Damn it, should have just kept things simple. “Yes… yes… she uses magic, of course! The equipment is just there as a back-up, silly me! Now go to sleep!” I plant a kiss on my 5 year olds head and shut the bedroom door quietly behind me.
Then the guilty feeling takes hold. I suddenly feel terrible for lying to my son…
And it begins … “I Want one of those …!”
As most of you may know, I am 2 years old. I like the usual things that a 2 year old girl likes: I like my toys (especially the noisy ones!), my books (especially the noisy ones!), and going to the park. I like my Fudgy Bear, seeing my nanna and granddad and having long ‘mummy cuddles’ on the sofa whilst watching a Winnie the Pooh DVD.
However, whilst having some TV time with mummy today, I made a mammoth discovery ….
The Ideal Mother ?
When I became pregnant with my first child I thought a lot about what kind of mum I was going to be. I had all sorts of idealistic ideas. I would be a calm, earthy type mum. Always there with adventures, advice and home baked goods.Think Felicity Kendall in The Good Life crossed with Delia Smith. The fact that I am an easily irritated,city girl who is absolutely rubbish at baking never crossed my mind. I would give birth and metamorphasise into Mrs Perfect.
So imagine my surprise when after my son was born I found myself still…well myself! It was then that I discovered the art of ‘good enough parenting’. These are the things that I have learned.
The Cheetahs bunk off school
I’m not entirely sure what the legal requirements are for 4 year old Cheetahs attending school (any ideas?) but it appears that today they (and the Banana People, and the Dinos and the Dino Brothers) were invited out bowling by the Cheetah grandparents – so they gave school a miss today. In that they seem to spend most of their time at school running around the field or on the racing track that’s in the playground I’m not sure that they’d have missed out on that much educational content so I’m not going to make too much of an issue of it…
I woke this morning to a wonderful stream of sunlight, cascading through my window like a golden waterfall.
Well that’s a very poetic way of looking at it.
It was more like Chris, close those bloody blinds, that frigging sun is burning into my brain!!
I don’t do mornings.
However, a (large) coffee and (potent) nappy change later I was sufficiently awake enough to appreciate the fact that it was indeed a beautiful day.
Having been stuck in the house for days with a moody Mya, I seized the opportunity to emerge from the darkness of our flat into the bright outdoors.
Mya loves being outside.
The moment I put her little shoes and socks on and we step outside our front door, her little face beams with delight. Her tiny toddler legs cannot move any quicker as she launches herself into the fresh air.
Today, with my usual, total lack of imagination we went to the local park.
These first three chooks did prove to be problematic though – Bhuna went broody for weeks and was just coming out of it when I found her one lunchtime v poorly in the nest box (she had we think been attacked by the others – don’t know why – chickens can be like that). A few days later it was RIP Bhuna. The other two got on OK for several months and then Korma suffered a similar attack (although not quite so severe – we tried to save her but failed).
Strange pregnancy symptoms no-one ever tells you about
As I’m now in the third trimester, I thought I’d round-up all the symptoms I’ve been experiencing for the past few months (my first trimester recap is here). These aren’t the obvious ones I’d read all about, but more like the startlingly odd symptoms that come surprisingly out of left-field.
Here are my top five:
Being very squeamish and pretty queasy. Although my morning sickness has long since stopped, I now can’t watch anything even slightly gory without feeling sick. There’s the normal things that bring this on, like anything remotely medical on TV, however the the worst culprit at the moment is that awful ad with the glossy brown singing cow made of gravy. Bleugh
Clumsiness. Just ask my husband, as yesterday I managed to knock an entire glass of Ribena all over our beige bedroom carpet, without even trying. It’s now banned from the bedroom. As I suspect I will be if I do that again…
Croc Wellie Boots….. Because they’re worth it
OK so £30 is a tad expensive for wellies for a 5 year old but lets just look at the facts.
1. She currently has ‘normal’ wellies which make her walk like she has her legs in plaster, thus resulting in her falling over at least once per minute on average. This equates to a lot of washing (costly) and a lot of moaning (mentally costly)
2. With her ‘normal’ wellies we have to wear multiple socks to keep the feet warm. Now finding a PAIR of socks in my house…. Impossible and therefore winter is over before we actually make it outside.
3. Daisy’s school boots cost more than any pair of shoes I have ever bought for myself! So if £30 wellies makes her boots last even a week longer then I’m in!
Verdict – expensive but then what isn’t for kids now!