Who ARE these people that get up early and enjoy it? I would really like to know. Of course we find out who they are eventually, as they cannot bring themselves to hide their smugness at seeing in the "best part of the day". But who made the rule that dawn is the pinnacle of daytime. Is it all downhill from there?
I'm not a morning person. I was when I was a child, I distinctly remember being up at the crack of dawn to sneak downstairs and watch the cartoons on a Saturday morning. Back when children's TV was on for a couple of hours each day on two channels. I would take my duvet with me and make a little camp in the living room while my parents had a lay in.
Then the hormones kicked in at 12 and I became the inevitable teenage sleep monster. My parents would despair and I would make up an imaginative array of headaches and "girl problems" in order to be left in peace to enjoy my snoozy sanctuary.
Now I have reached the upper echelons of responsible adulthood. Married with children and a serious job. According to all of my childhood observations, I should have metamorphasised into a sprightly, irritating Morning Person. Leaping out of bed at seven on the dot to whip up a delicious breakfast treat for my husband, aided by my eldest child in his Thomas The Tank pinny. Off to the park for 8am sharp so the kids can play on the swings while the dew is still wet on the grass.
Except that is about a million miles away from me. I'm sure it's not laziness, the mind is willing, but it seems that my body is weak. I was recently diagnosed with an endocrinal disorder. It wasn't until I began researching in some depth that I realised that my tiredness and general unwillingness to be shifted from my pit could all be attributed to this. I will admit, the temptation to print out the medical evidence, highlight the pertinent facts and wave it at my Dad, shouting "HA!" was overwhelming.
Also, I have another reason these days. Smallest has never been a sleeper. She has slept right through the night 3 times in her 14 month existance, but on average I am treated to two wakes per night for milk. So if you include the several months of pregnancy discomfort before she was born, I've not slept in a year and a half. Weirdly this hasn't bothered me too much. I have been aware from the beginning that she will settle in her own time. I'm not one for sleep training or leaving babies to howl, blessed as I am with a conscience. And she's getting there now. I am hoping that she might even start sleeping all night regularly soon. What a crazy notion....
I wonder, though. Are some people just night owls, or are the night owls "Cockerally Challenged" like myself. Do we get up late because we sleep late, or do we sleep late because we can't get up in the morning?
Or am I just a lazy bugger?
Thursday, 16 August 2012
Wednesday, 15 August 2012
Friend/Unfriend
So much of our life is dictated by friends and maintaining friendships. But I do wonder what constitutes true friendship.
“Friendship is the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words.”
~ George Eliot
I don't think it is like a marriage, where you have to work at it to keep it going, you simply don't have the same level of intimacy with a friend. With a marriage you can call each other every name under the sun in a fit of temper and it will be forgotten an hour later. Maybe. With a friend, that is likely to be an inevitable end to a friendship.
Some friends are drainers. They take, take, take and give little or nothing in return. Mostly it's your time they seek, but money and favours score highly too. I had a friend up until recently who demanded more of me than I was able to give once I settled down and had a baby. She couldn't grasp that my priorities had taken a dramatic shift and her jealousy was taken out on my infant son. We inevitably drifted apart. Others get unsettled and insecure if you don't contact them once a month/week/day. Needy friends. I cannnot live with that level of commitment, it becomes a chore.
Socially I have two distinct groups of friends. I don't mix the two as I have two separate areas of my life. Mummy friends and work friends.
My work friends are a mixed bundle of males and females of varying ages from teens to fifties. I absolutely adore working with them and being a part of their team. The banter is abundant and sometimes borderline offensive. The conversations often childish and pointless to kill some time. Our nights out are drunken and debauched. I know that when I am with them, I can be me at my most extreme. My pre-baby self. While I was on maternity leave I could go several weeks without hearing from my closer colleagues, and they would not hear from me. But if I wanted to meet up with one or many of them, I knew they would always be thrilled to see me, and I them. I imagine that I would lose touch with the majority of them, should they choose to seek employment elsewhere. But right now, they're there and they're my mates. It's easy, straightforward and they are all much loved in their own special ways.
Then there are my mummy friends. I met them all online some years ago while we were all trying to get pregnant with varying degrees of success. Before we'd even met, we knew each other's most intimate secrets, so now it seems that our history stretches back beyond three years. Our experiences have all been so different that they could actually make a film about us all and it would be well balanced. One who is able to fall and stay pregnant as nature intended, yet she is special because it's something she has never taken for granted and recognises her blessings. Then there's the one who can get pregnant but her body just can't hang onto the babies. She finally got there on her 6th attempt and her determination always humbles me. Then there's the woman who is such a natural mother and has such an easy way with children but nature just doesn't seem to be on her side. She's currently going through the slog of adoption, a bureaucratic pregnancy, if you will, and will soon get the child she deserves, paperwork willing. And then there's me with my broken ovaries, willing but not able.
We all live a fair way apart but speak often online and see each other when we can. And there's no pressure. We all appreciate each other's busy lives and fit each other in when we can. I know that if I needed them, they would be there, without question. They know that if they needed me I would drop everything. But I don't have to phone them every other day, they don't have to host a visit from me once a week. We just ARE. And I like that. I appreciate it's simplicity. And I love them for it.
So what is a true friend? I guess it's different for everyone. I would say all of my friends make me laugh. I trust them all, and I want to spend time with them. I enjoy hearing about their lives and sharing details of mine. They are people that I want nearby for those landmark moments, happy and sad. And some of them are people that I would like to grow old with. To share a long and illustrious future together. Holidays, experiences and memories. Laughter and of course tears. I guess that is what a true friendship is. People that you want to build a history with, alongside your family.
“Friendship is the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words.”
~ George Eliot
I don't think it is like a marriage, where you have to work at it to keep it going, you simply don't have the same level of intimacy with a friend. With a marriage you can call each other every name under the sun in a fit of temper and it will be forgotten an hour later. Maybe. With a friend, that is likely to be an inevitable end to a friendship.
Some friends are drainers. They take, take, take and give little or nothing in return. Mostly it's your time they seek, but money and favours score highly too. I had a friend up until recently who demanded more of me than I was able to give once I settled down and had a baby. She couldn't grasp that my priorities had taken a dramatic shift and her jealousy was taken out on my infant son. We inevitably drifted apart. Others get unsettled and insecure if you don't contact them once a month/week/day. Needy friends. I cannnot live with that level of commitment, it becomes a chore.
Socially I have two distinct groups of friends. I don't mix the two as I have two separate areas of my life. Mummy friends and work friends.
My work friends are a mixed bundle of males and females of varying ages from teens to fifties. I absolutely adore working with them and being a part of their team. The banter is abundant and sometimes borderline offensive. The conversations often childish and pointless to kill some time. Our nights out are drunken and debauched. I know that when I am with them, I can be me at my most extreme. My pre-baby self. While I was on maternity leave I could go several weeks without hearing from my closer colleagues, and they would not hear from me. But if I wanted to meet up with one or many of them, I knew they would always be thrilled to see me, and I them. I imagine that I would lose touch with the majority of them, should they choose to seek employment elsewhere. But right now, they're there and they're my mates. It's easy, straightforward and they are all much loved in their own special ways.
Then there are my mummy friends. I met them all online some years ago while we were all trying to get pregnant with varying degrees of success. Before we'd even met, we knew each other's most intimate secrets, so now it seems that our history stretches back beyond three years. Our experiences have all been so different that they could actually make a film about us all and it would be well balanced. One who is able to fall and stay pregnant as nature intended, yet she is special because it's something she has never taken for granted and recognises her blessings. Then there's the one who can get pregnant but her body just can't hang onto the babies. She finally got there on her 6th attempt and her determination always humbles me. Then there's the woman who is such a natural mother and has such an easy way with children but nature just doesn't seem to be on her side. She's currently going through the slog of adoption, a bureaucratic pregnancy, if you will, and will soon get the child she deserves, paperwork willing. And then there's me with my broken ovaries, willing but not able.
We all live a fair way apart but speak often online and see each other when we can. And there's no pressure. We all appreciate each other's busy lives and fit each other in when we can. I know that if I needed them, they would be there, without question. They know that if they needed me I would drop everything. But I don't have to phone them every other day, they don't have to host a visit from me once a week. We just ARE. And I like that. I appreciate it's simplicity. And I love them for it.
So what is a true friend? I guess it's different for everyone. I would say all of my friends make me laugh. I trust them all, and I want to spend time with them. I enjoy hearing about their lives and sharing details of mine. They are people that I want nearby for those landmark moments, happy and sad. And some of them are people that I would like to grow old with. To share a long and illustrious future together. Holidays, experiences and memories. Laughter and of course tears. I guess that is what a true friendship is. People that you want to build a history with, alongside your family.
Tuesday, 14 August 2012
Formula. The only way you could make it more evil is by making up bottles with Satan's wee...
Does anyone else get tired of the constant bitching about formula milk. I realise this is rather a simplistic statement so I shall expand.
Most of us know that breast is best. We're not thick. It's fact and we've all seen the endless propaganda. What vexes me is the relentless reminders. BREAST IS BEST!!! Formula isn't the same, it isn't a substitute, your baby will be RUBBISH compared to breastfed ones.... Yawwwwn. They serve absolutely no purpose and I shall explain why.
There are two kinds of exclusively formula feeding mother. I am generalising of course, but stick with me. The first is the kind that doesn't want to breastfeed. They are uncomfortable with the idea of their breasts being used to suckle a child and some even consider their breasts to be the property of their partners. Others may be unhappy with the idea of exposing their breasts publically. They make a conscious decision to bottle feed. So you can give them all of the facts til they are blue in the face. They have made their decision, they are bloody likely to stick to it!
Then there is the other kind. The kind that wanted to breastfeed but for some reason couldn't. There's many reasons. I was one of those mothers when I had my son (although I have been luckier with my daughter and am to all intents and purposes pro breastfeeding). I had dreadful postnatal depression and was terrily undereducated. I didn't want to ask for help as I wanted everyone to think I was coping when in fact I was sinking. I switched to formula and suddenly everything was a little easier. Thinking back, I'm quite sure I could have carried on physically but mentally it was the best decision. My best friend was probably the most determined woman I have ever seen when her daughter was born. She had a number of issues against her, tongue tie, severe mastitis and the most ridiculous amount of conflicting advice from so called professionals. She eventually had to call it a day after the infection in her poor boobs got SO bad that she was hospitalised. She then, after a lot of soul searching, made the tough decision to stop breastfeeding. Another friend developed thrush in her nipples. Which is so HARD to cure as it just constantly gets transferred from breast to baby, back to breast again. After several weeks of furious expressing and constant agony she decided it would be best for both of them if she gave her baby formula.
What do we all have in common? Guilt. Constant, crippling guilt. That there was something else we could have done, that we have failed as women, as mothers. Despite knowing in our heart of hearts that we all did as much as we could at the time, that we made the right decisions not just for our babies but for our entire families. The guilt never leaves and haunts you every time your baby gets a cold, or a skin complaint. Is it because they were formula fed? So the LAST thing these mothers need is a constant stream of media telling them that they are not feeding their baby the optimum nutrition. We KNEW that breast was best. You don't need to tell us again!
I know there are women out there who battle through all of these issues. Most of them are heroes. Another of my friends has just battled through the most horrendous case of thrush, at one point we all suspected her nipples may actually just drop off. But she carried on and is now (touch wood) cured. But not everyone is as fortunate or indeed well supported.
When my son was 5 weeks old, he developed eczema. It was implied (by medical professionals, no less) that he would have escaped such torment had I breastfed him for longer, as he went on formula at around that age. A superb critisism of a woman who's primary occupation at that time was sitting in a dark room, rocking and weeping. I know different now. My daughter was exclusively breastfed until 6 months and is continuing to do so alongside her solid meals. I am a stickler for WHO guidelines, what can I say. And at 5 weeks on the dot, her skin broke out in a terrible rash. Eczema. Which she is now growing out of at 14 months. Just like her brother. It was an enormous weight from my mind that I hadn't caused all of those months of pain and discomfort. Except by passing on my rubbish allergic genes, but that can't be helped.
What really gets me though is the eternal implication that formula is the work of the devil. Formula companies are all corrupt. blah blah blah..... I think formula is bloody AMAZING. How many babies are on this planet that would not be here if it weren't for formula? I don't think there would be any way of quantifying the statistics but I would be willing to bet it's millions. Millions of babies that would have died if it weren't for nasty, chemically enhanced powdered muck. Is it filth or a miracle of modern science? We know the answer to that. BREAST IS BEST!
But I reckon FORMULA IS FANTASTIC. So shoot me.
Most of us know that breast is best. We're not thick. It's fact and we've all seen the endless propaganda. What vexes me is the relentless reminders. BREAST IS BEST!!! Formula isn't the same, it isn't a substitute, your baby will be RUBBISH compared to breastfed ones.... Yawwwwn. They serve absolutely no purpose and I shall explain why.
There are two kinds of exclusively formula feeding mother. I am generalising of course, but stick with me. The first is the kind that doesn't want to breastfeed. They are uncomfortable with the idea of their breasts being used to suckle a child and some even consider their breasts to be the property of their partners. Others may be unhappy with the idea of exposing their breasts publically. They make a conscious decision to bottle feed. So you can give them all of the facts til they are blue in the face. They have made their decision, they are bloody likely to stick to it!
Then there is the other kind. The kind that wanted to breastfeed but for some reason couldn't. There's many reasons. I was one of those mothers when I had my son (although I have been luckier with my daughter and am to all intents and purposes pro breastfeeding). I had dreadful postnatal depression and was terrily undereducated. I didn't want to ask for help as I wanted everyone to think I was coping when in fact I was sinking. I switched to formula and suddenly everything was a little easier. Thinking back, I'm quite sure I could have carried on physically but mentally it was the best decision. My best friend was probably the most determined woman I have ever seen when her daughter was born. She had a number of issues against her, tongue tie, severe mastitis and the most ridiculous amount of conflicting advice from so called professionals. She eventually had to call it a day after the infection in her poor boobs got SO bad that she was hospitalised. She then, after a lot of soul searching, made the tough decision to stop breastfeeding. Another friend developed thrush in her nipples. Which is so HARD to cure as it just constantly gets transferred from breast to baby, back to breast again. After several weeks of furious expressing and constant agony she decided it would be best for both of them if she gave her baby formula.
What do we all have in common? Guilt. Constant, crippling guilt. That there was something else we could have done, that we have failed as women, as mothers. Despite knowing in our heart of hearts that we all did as much as we could at the time, that we made the right decisions not just for our babies but for our entire families. The guilt never leaves and haunts you every time your baby gets a cold, or a skin complaint. Is it because they were formula fed? So the LAST thing these mothers need is a constant stream of media telling them that they are not feeding their baby the optimum nutrition. We KNEW that breast was best. You don't need to tell us again!
I know there are women out there who battle through all of these issues. Most of them are heroes. Another of my friends has just battled through the most horrendous case of thrush, at one point we all suspected her nipples may actually just drop off. But she carried on and is now (touch wood) cured. But not everyone is as fortunate or indeed well supported.
When my son was 5 weeks old, he developed eczema. It was implied (by medical professionals, no less) that he would have escaped such torment had I breastfed him for longer, as he went on formula at around that age. A superb critisism of a woman who's primary occupation at that time was sitting in a dark room, rocking and weeping. I know different now. My daughter was exclusively breastfed until 6 months and is continuing to do so alongside her solid meals. I am a stickler for WHO guidelines, what can I say. And at 5 weeks on the dot, her skin broke out in a terrible rash. Eczema. Which she is now growing out of at 14 months. Just like her brother. It was an enormous weight from my mind that I hadn't caused all of those months of pain and discomfort. Except by passing on my rubbish allergic genes, but that can't be helped.
What really gets me though is the eternal implication that formula is the work of the devil. Formula companies are all corrupt. blah blah blah..... I think formula is bloody AMAZING. How many babies are on this planet that would not be here if it weren't for formula? I don't think there would be any way of quantifying the statistics but I would be willing to bet it's millions. Millions of babies that would have died if it weren't for nasty, chemically enhanced powdered muck. Is it filth or a miracle of modern science? We know the answer to that. BREAST IS BEST!
But I reckon FORMULA IS FANTASTIC. So shoot me.
Why does their opinion matter?
I often get cross by the way mothers are portrayed in the media. It seems that little attention is paid to those who feed their children nothing but junk, take little interest in their child's development, drink, smoke and party to the detriment of their child's health and general wellbeing. And yet show them a mother that has the audacity to breastfeed her child past the age of one and there will be all manner of finger pointing.
Many of them quote the World Health Organisation. "Exclusive breastfeeding is recommended up to 6 months of age." Except there is no full stop at the end of that quote. The official WHO guidelines are "Exclusive breastfeeding is recommended up to 6 months of age, with continued breastfeeding along with appropriate complementary foods up to two years of age or beyond." Gosh, doesn't that paint rather a different picture.
I'm not normally one to spout off about breastfeeding as I am aware that unless you are actually doing it, it's extremely dull. For some it makes uncomfortable and unwelcome reading. But as a breastfeeding mother, I am getting so tired of reading about what an awful example of a mother I am. The media is quite determined to paint me as some lunatic hippy woman, whacking my ginormous veiny mammaries out at any given opportunity. For example, this article appeared in The Mirror today. Exclusive breastfeeding is recommended up to 6 months of age, with continued breastfeeding along with appropriate complementary foods up to two years of age or beyond. It seems I am an "Extreme Parent".
To the best of my knowledge I am not in any way extreme. I am Mrs Mainstream. It happens that my daughter (who is almost 14 months old) is a terrible sleeper. I choose to breastfeed her at night rather than sprint downstairs to prepare a bottle before her cries reach decibel levels that would require Environmental Health intervention. She does have formula milk also, as intolerances mean that she can't have cow's milk yet. I also choose to offer her breastmilk during the day if she is sad for any reason. If her brother won't share or if she's ponked her head on something. Comfort takes many forms, this is our preferred avenue. And I enjoy breastfeeding. My daughter is very active and independant. I don't get many cuddles. So I cherish those night feeds. Her cute little noises as she suckles. Her tiny hand playing with my hair. Her tiny warm body snug against my rather well worn belly. I admit, much of my perseverance is about me and what I want. She won't be this small forever and I won't get these moments back. But I certainly wouldn't be doing it if it didn't benefit her in some way.
Which begs the question that the original article raised. When DO you stop. Well the answer is simple and it's exactly the same for everyone. When it's right for you and your baby. And not a moment sooner.
Many of them quote the World Health Organisation. "Exclusive breastfeeding is recommended up to 6 months of age." Except there is no full stop at the end of that quote. The official WHO guidelines are "Exclusive breastfeeding is recommended up to 6 months of age, with continued breastfeeding along with appropriate complementary foods up to two years of age or beyond." Gosh, doesn't that paint rather a different picture.
I'm not normally one to spout off about breastfeeding as I am aware that unless you are actually doing it, it's extremely dull. For some it makes uncomfortable and unwelcome reading. But as a breastfeeding mother, I am getting so tired of reading about what an awful example of a mother I am. The media is quite determined to paint me as some lunatic hippy woman, whacking my ginormous veiny mammaries out at any given opportunity. For example, this article appeared in The Mirror today. Exclusive breastfeeding is recommended up to 6 months of age, with continued breastfeeding along with appropriate complementary foods up to two years of age or beyond. It seems I am an "Extreme Parent".
To the best of my knowledge I am not in any way extreme. I am Mrs Mainstream. It happens that my daughter (who is almost 14 months old) is a terrible sleeper. I choose to breastfeed her at night rather than sprint downstairs to prepare a bottle before her cries reach decibel levels that would require Environmental Health intervention. She does have formula milk also, as intolerances mean that she can't have cow's milk yet. I also choose to offer her breastmilk during the day if she is sad for any reason. If her brother won't share or if she's ponked her head on something. Comfort takes many forms, this is our preferred avenue. And I enjoy breastfeeding. My daughter is very active and independant. I don't get many cuddles. So I cherish those night feeds. Her cute little noises as she suckles. Her tiny hand playing with my hair. Her tiny warm body snug against my rather well worn belly. I admit, much of my perseverance is about me and what I want. She won't be this small forever and I won't get these moments back. But I certainly wouldn't be doing it if it didn't benefit her in some way.
Which begs the question that the original article raised. When DO you stop. Well the answer is simple and it's exactly the same for everyone. When it's right for you and your baby. And not a moment sooner.
Welcome to the world of self importance.....
Everyone is blogging these days. You can barely log into a social networking site without some celeb burgeoning with self importance spilling all of their hopes and fears to an eagerly waiting cyber audience. So why join in?
I seem to have a lot to say. I don't know whether any of it is worth hearing or not, but I think my opinions and methods are spot on. It's why I chose them. I suppose if you go through life happy that you are right, you're doing something right. Or you're a self righteous prat. One of the two.
I also seem to be excellent at getting myself into trouble by saying the wrong thing. And this bewilders me as I am not a contraversial or extreme person, I'm just busying along, getting myself by. But as a general rule, people annoy me. They really do. Ignorance is rife and these days it's ok to have no dreams or ambition. I have plenty of both but I've never managed to narrow them down to anything specific. i'll get there, I'm only 32. That's young, right?
I seem to have a lot to say. I don't know whether any of it is worth hearing or not, but I think my opinions and methods are spot on. It's why I chose them. I suppose if you go through life happy that you are right, you're doing something right. Or you're a self righteous prat. One of the two.
I also seem to be excellent at getting myself into trouble by saying the wrong thing. And this bewilders me as I am not a contraversial or extreme person, I'm just busying along, getting myself by. But as a general rule, people annoy me. They really do. Ignorance is rife and these days it's ok to have no dreams or ambition. I have plenty of both but I've never managed to narrow them down to anything specific. i'll get there, I'm only 32. That's young, right?
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