The funny side to life as a working single Mum. My stories of embarrassing escapades, toddler tantrums and great expectations.
Showing posts with label parent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parent. Show all posts
Tuesday, 5 May 2015
Jekyll and Hyde
Toddlers are fickle beasts. You never know quite how they are going to wake up, change through the day or finish the day. Generally, my son is happy, loving and friendly but he can also be demanding, impatient and angry. Most of all though, toddlers seem to be irrational. The things Ethan gets annoyed about are ridiculous. Recently there was a fallout over the hoover. I wanted to put it away and Ethan wanted to hug it because he 'lubs it.'
Just this evening, Ethan stole a bottle of squash from the kitchen and hid it in a toy box. This was funny and cheeky. What came next was a minor breakdown because I refused to let him drink said squash straight from the bottle, as you can see. Just seconds after this photo was taken, Ethan was sat at the table eating his dinner in absolute perfection.
Toddlers, eh?
Thursday, 29 August 2013
Time for tea.
When you feel let down and at odds with the world a simple cup of hot, steamy nectar makes it all seem slightly warmer, even for a brief moment. Over the past few weeks of personal disappointment, confusion and discontent in my own life, tea has been a staple in both my physical and emotional diet.
Contrary to this, tea is also a fitting accompaniment to friendship, love and celebration. A sign that someone cares enough or that you care for them. A symbol that everything is all will be at least alright.
Tea. I can't imagine life without it.
Monday, 1 July 2013
Was breastfeeding the right choice?
There are days, however, when I think formula feeding would just be simpler. Mainly when people tell me how their formula fed babies sleep through for several hours at a time! With 11 months without a single full night of sleep behind me, it cuts deep!
Now, I'm sure formula feeding Mums sometimes wish they were breastfeeding for the convenience of no sterilising and making up bottles with the added bonus of comfort through boob! I for one don't envy all that hard work sterilising and mixing powders. I'd be crap at being that organised; my boobs aren't going anywhere after all!
I'm still glad I've breastfed Ethan and he's showing no sign of stopping any time soon. Further, I am fully aware that not all formula fed babies sleep all night but the prospect of it is still a wonderful dream for me to behold. It is, for the majority of the time, a seemingly unattainable dream in our household.
Monday, 10 June 2013
Only a Mother knows.
From this I have been thinking back on what I really gained, learnt from my childhood and one thing prevails. Be yourself. It may sound cliche but my parents really did and still do accept me and my brother for who we are, who we want to be, who we can be. For myself, I feel incredibly lucky to have parents who have been welcoming and accepting to my friends and past boyfriends. They have always instilled in me a link between my life in and out of their house. My parents have always accepted my hobbies and ever changing aspirations with support but an equal amount of realism. Most of all, my parents have always been open and accepting of my love for the unusual, whether that be fashion, music or tattoos. Although, I should probably add here that it was my Mum who got me into Siouxsie and the Banshees and persuaded me to listen to Marilyn Manson as a Greenday bopping teenager!
My parents have always been interested in our hobbies, our tastes, our life which was great. My Mum and Dad would stand in the crowd of my gigs playing drums in shit indie bands and in my days as an angst ridden goth singer! They even made it to a goth night to watch me DJ and my Mum always made sure I had big pants and tights to wear under my mini skirt! As I say, I think this is what I take most from my childhood and adulthood really: openness and acceptance.
Having such open parents does make it hard fucking work to rebel though. See Mum, I said fuck!
Even in adulthood my parents put up with me going through an array of fashions and phases along with going out with some pretty dodgy characters, several house moves and the decision to undertake teacher training after just 6 months living solo working in London. They still accepted me home for a year to do my teacher training. After this my parents allowed and accepted me travelling to Ghana alone for the summer which, while a woman of 26, I can see now how harrowing this would have been for them. In particular for my Mother, watching me check in at the airport knowing that from that moment on I am alone in an unknown world, without her protection or care.
Being a parent never ends. Being a Mother doesn't stop when they are off your hands. It just gets more difficult, as you are forced to let them go and learn to accept and love a new person. This person still holds the core of your baby, your child but has changed under the influence of not just you but the world outside of you. When we live in a world as cruel as ours, its no wonder this ensues madness.
Sunday, 23 December 2012
P!nk: Breastfeeding idol.
Watching her triumph of a video for her recent single 'Try' she is the same strong minded and talented woman she always was, despite being a wife and mother. What interests me more with this version of P!nk is that the woman you see is not only a mother, but a breastfeeding mother.
P!nk breastfeeding her 15 month old daughter Willow in September.
Flexible and toned in the video for 'Try.'
When I saw the photo of P!nk above published on Twitter by her husband and read her views on breastfeeding, my respect and appreciation of her as an artist and woman grew further. In an interview with Alan Carr she said a guy walked past her feeding Willow in a restaurant and made some comment that it was disgusting. P!nk's response: 'You obviously didn't get enough of this when you were young!' Brilliant! What a perfect response to an ignorant individual. I still find it shocking that anyone could consider reacting in this way. I breastfeed in public regularly and will continue to do so as long as Ethan is interested! At 5 months he shows no signs of giving it up any time soon and is welcome to continue as long as we can. I plan to return to work when Ethan is around 9 months old so we will have to adapt but we will work it out. The further along our breastfeeding journey we go, the happier I am that I was able to continue. We gain so much from our breastfeeding relationship, not just in terms of the health benefits, but our bonding experience. It is difficult to explain it fully, but while it puts the pressure on, I think there is also a part of me which likes that feeding Ethan is something only I provide. Don't think this is some kind of attack on bottle feeding Mums, it isn't. Every parent does what is best for their child and them, which deserves no judgement. Just as no person has the right to judge a breastfeeding mother in a restaurant, no one can judge those who bottlefeed.
Looking at P!nk as a mother and woman I see strength and beauty in body and mind. If she isn't a positive role model, I don't know who is. I feel as though P!nk has almost grown up alongside me, from a rebellious young woman to a wife and mother. Hopefully I still have a little rebellion still left in me yet!
Wednesday, 28 November 2012
Up in arms.
For some unknown reason I switched on to 'Lorraine' one morning this week while having breakfast as Ethan played in his gym. What I was faced with was four women discussing arms. Yes, you heard me right. Arms. In a deadly serious tone, as though they were finding a soution to world conflict or poverty. Apparently ladies, getting the correct size, style and tone of arm is the key to a happy Christmas and I dare say a happy life. Shit the bed, if I had known that I wouldn't have spent years searching for true love, good friends and building a family. I also wouldn't have bothered learning anything, teaching or writing. Cheers for the enlightenment Lorraine and chums.
I understand that obviously body image, dieting and exercise are topics of conversation on these shows but with a focus on arms it is more comedy gold than anything else. After watching a few minutes I decided to bake a massive cake with a shit load of sugar and butter in. That's my Christmas fucked then. If only I had paid more attention to Lorraine. Imagine the headlines: 'Daytime telly saved my arms AND family Christmas.' I've missed my chance but there is still time for your arms to be saved.
As a Mummy mate said when I told her about the feature: 'Lorraine can cock right off.' Couldn't have put it better myself.
Disclaimer: this is written for entertainment purposes and is in no way a personal attack against Lorraine and the gang.
Tuesday, 23 October 2012
Keep Rollin', Rollin', Rollin'
 |
| Knackered from the rolling! |
The most challenging part of the whole thing was probably getting it attached to the door frame in the first place. It seems baby equipment really isn't built to be easy to make or set up at all. The pram/car seat/transformer is the worst, with its secret buttons and straps and parts it really is one of the biggest challenges of having a baby!
 |
| Woooooooooooooah! |
 |
| Happy in this awesome number! |
 |
| Modelling my new H&M outfit! |
Thursday, 13 September 2012
From Birth to Breast.
The best word to describe the past 6 weeks is intense. Physically and emotionally intense. In some ways it doesn't feel that long since I was faced with the shock that I had just given birth to our 10lbs 13oz baby boy in our bedroom without pain relief! Now, I don't bring this up to boast but to this day it all feels a little surreal when people ask about the labour and I give this answer. The looks and comments I get are priceless and never fail to entertain me. Most of the time however, it feels as though Ethan has always been here and I have no idea what I did before he arrived. It is as though I have spent my whole life, in particular 9 and a half months waiting and preparing for something which you can never really prepare for fully.
I may have prepared my body, my mind and home to some extent but I certainly didn't prepare my breasts for what was to come. I was always determined to breastfeed, as my mother did; it seemed the natural choice. I read the books, undertook the training and assumed it would just happen. How naive I was. I figured that breastfeeding would only hurt if you did it 'wrong.' What I hadn't prepared myself for is how hungry babies are, how comforting my boobs are and how much strength of suck a newborn has!
For the first 3 weeks of breastfeeding at least I can only compare our son to a snappy turtle or one of those teethy animal heads on sticks kids get from museums or the zoo. It got to the point where the sight of the deadly jaws of my beautiful boy approaching my nipple filled me with genuine fear and bought many tears to my eye! Breastfeeding is an incredibly natural process, with practise and support. Thankfully after 6 weeks we have managed to settle into breastfeeding but it hasn't been without a lot of tears (on both sides of the breast), guilt and the odd bottle of aptamil. Some will judge those who bottle feed, whether it be the odd bottle or completely but my opinion on this is make your own choice, keep judgement to yourself and understand that the most valuable thing for a baby is a happy Mummy.
Until I gave birth myself I never imagined there would be such heated debate and in my opinion, ill treatment of women for their feeding choices of their own children. I have made my feeding choice for our son but it is just that; my choice. It is not the choice of the health visitor who tells me I am a 'failure' at breastfeeding (actual words) nor is it the choice of the multitude of leaflets which shout BREAST IS BEST over and over again. I may have managed to continue breastfeeding but I don't blame or judge any woman who has stopped breastfeeding at any point. It is hard work, really hard and for some it is impossible both physically and mentally to function and perform as a mother under the level or pressure and pain experienced. Think nipples bleeding while spending half an hour attempting to attach your crying baby to you only to then sit crying in pain for the next hour while they feed. Then imagine getting a 20 minute break before starting the whole process again. Over and over again. Top this with a generous dose of loneliness (as you are the only one able to feed your child at this point) and you have some idea of whether breast is always best.
As I say, I have continued with breastfeeding but this is my personal choice and you can quote me as saying that there have been points far more difficult than labour itself. Having continued with breastfeeding the next hurdle has been feeding in public. Now I am pretty sure that in the days when my weekends (and sometimes week nights) were spent necking cocktails and shots I flashed a boob or two but doing so when sober in daytime hours is a daunting prospect for most women. My first experience of public feeding really threw me straight into it. Sitting in a lovely cafe Utopia in Southend enjoying lunch with my Mum I rapidly realised Ethan was looking a little chompy. Instead of feeding him immediately I decided to start a conversation with him to ask whether he wanted to eat and begging for a clear signal. After a few minutes of this my Mum told me that I need to make a decision, rather than Ethan. Good point. The poor boy is not a lady that lunches, he is 4 weeks old and hungry. With my muslin cloth at the ready and fingers crossed I manage to get Ethan on to the breast without any nipple flashing and not one judgemental look from staff or customers. Lucky me. It has not been unheard of for women to breastfeed their babies in public toilets. As my health visitor said today would we eat lunch in a public toilet? After all my worrying Ethan fed for less than 5 minutes which tells me he either wanted to make the experience less traumatic for me or he got stage fright!
I could probably discuss breastfeeding and the judgement and guilt placed upon women for their feeding choice for the whole blog but will just end with these words. Hot Milk. Beautiful nursing bras; disturbing company name. There is nothing hot (in the sexy sense) about my massive milk machines.
Ethan and I at 5 weeks.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)