Home Education???

For various reasons and from various sources, home education has been brought to my mind recently.  So it got me questionning – what do I really think of it?

When I was younger, I only knew one family who home educated.  To be honest, they weren’t a very good advert for it either.  They were a bit hippy, a bit distanced from society and served to fufill certain stereotypes i had in my mind of home educated kids.  But the truth is, it doesn’t have to be like that.

I’ve read a few blogs from home parenting families and have thought about how I would do it myself.  My eldest is now at the age where we’re beginning to think about pre-school.  It sounds a weird thing for me to say, as someone who has worked in a public sector primary school for her whole working life, but I don’t want him to go because it is too institutionalised.  That’s not to say I wont send him.  The chances are also good that he will actually go to school, but anyway, I digress.

You see, I think I could home educate.  And I think I could do it really well.  As we go throughout our day, I’ve been observing how we interact with Daniel.  Questionning his knowledge, his understanding, his concepts of the world around him.  We help him to link his knowledge about one thing and relate it to something else.  We explain how language has different meanings when he comes out with something a bit odd.  Things that most parents do naturally, without even realising it.  Things that I am certain my own Mum did with me.  Oh how I used to hate going shopping with her and out would come the real-life applications about money and calculations and the terror would rise in me as I realised I was being tested.  (I was never very good at maths and that’s why my Mum used to push me on it.)

So then what would a day home educating look like?  I could theme whole days and weeks around one topic (St George’s day, the meaning of Easter, cowboys, spacemen – all things we have been thinking about recently.)  We could take museum visits when it is not busy, we could make models and paint, we could write stories and act them out with props, we could really link our learning together and form a full picture of something.  We could take the basis of our topics from things that Daniel himself is interested in, things that we have seen, things that are relevant.  We could do all the things that made me get into teaching in the first place, all the joy without any of the red tape, without OFSTED, without having to submit my plans by a Monday morning, without being observed, without trying to finish a lesson before the lunchbell, without targets and levels.  Oh, it could be great.

The ironic thing is, that even as I am writing this, home educating of course means not going back to paid employment, but it also gets me really excited to want to go back and have my own class and put into practice all these great ideas with a whole new bunch of kids, which would mean going back to work!

But I am also not deluded.  I know what a real day would be like.  I know that it is hard teaching children of different ages (NOTE: NOT different abilities, I am well used to that.  But physically and mentally ANY 2 year old is vastly different to, say, a six month old.)  I know that I would want to include housework within my day, and seeing friends.  This doesn’t mean I couldn’t do these things, but it makes things different when you are lugging kids around with you.  I also know that I would be very tired, would have to be very organised and would have to make sure that I keep up the inspiration and don’t let the kids just sit in front of a computer all day.  I would basically have to treat it as if it were a job.  Which it would be.  I also want at least one more child, which brings into question things like “Do I start when they are officially school age, or is the whole thing learning, and when do I get to spend some one-on-one time with a new baby without neglecting the educational needs of a three year old and a five year old?”

I’m sure you’ve seen those six image things floating around the net so here is mine on home education, in words

What society thinks I do: Image of playing in the park all day long.

What my friends think I do: image of meeting friends in coffee shops every day.

What my ex-colleagues think I do: image of children at individual desks, being drilled on their times tables and their adverbial phrases.

What my Mum thinks I do: image of me pottering about with kids at my heels.

What I think I do: image of incredibly happy and well-rounded childen, taking an interest in everything around them and remaking on the complexity and meaning of the lines in the latest arty thing in the Tate modern.

What I actually do: image of a messy house, with one kid on the computer “self-learning” and one kid doing a jigsaw while I play on my phone

 

P.S. Mum – this is taken from a model of other things, it’s not about you personally

P.P.S. I haven’t mentioned here anything about Daniel’s personality and how home education would fit in with him.  This is more about me and how I would approach home education, were I to do it.

First quarterly review

Do you realise that at the end of this month we will be a quarter of the way through the year?  Well, actually, that is only if you take the year to be split into four equal sets of three months.  Hmm, was going to write that the first quarter of the year ends on…blah blah date, but having just worked it out, 31st March IS actually the end of the first quarter!  (this is a leap year.)

So that means I should look at my New Years Resolutions and see how I am doing with them.  Now, normally when I write a blog, something sparks off my electronic neurons, I dwell on it for a few days, pick out key points in my head that I want to think about, and then think about how I want to conclude and title the blog, as this will inform the direction it goes in.  I know this sounds very “proper”, but I don’t write any notes or anything – it only goes on in my head.

But I actually seriously haven’t looked at my New Years Resolutions since writing them here on this very blog.  I was going to write it out in pretty colours and pin it on my notice board but that never happened.  (Do you remember when you were at school, you used to spend ages colour-co-ordinating your revision timetable and never actually doing any revision?)  It probably also means I haven’t achieved any of them.  Oh well, let’s take a look anyway.

1. Lose two stone.  A quarter of the way through the year means I should have lost half a stone.  Achieved!!!  I have been cutting down the chocolate, avoiding eating toast late at night and have even been on a couple of jogs.  Only for ten minutes round the block, but that is all my unhealthy body can take.  Besides, I did only have a baby twelve weeks ago.  Need to keep on top of this one though, as I haven’t run for a week (and I have severly bruised my toe so don’t fancy it at the moment.) and also have not been eating quite as well as I was.  Not that I am eating crap all the time, but have been ultra busy and had less time to cook.

2. Get my stomach muscles back together.  I have my first physiotherapy appointment tomorrow, where they will assess me and teach me some exercises.  Eeek.  I’m a little nervous.  I’m worried they’ll just tell me I’m lazy and don’t need physiotherapy because everyone else manages it.  I had gotten into a really good habit of pulling my muscles in whilst in the shower.  But our shower has been broken for about two weeks and somehow it is just not the same in the bath.  I tend to close my eyes in the bath so that I can’t see how absolutely ugly and horrible my belly is.  Hmm, excuses, excuses.  Hopefully the physio will bring some good things and I will get back on track.

3.Maintain blog.  Well, I’m writing it now so I think I’m achieving this one.

4. Improve nappy making skills.  Perhaps other people can tell me if I have achieved this one or not!  I’ve made a further two since January and I think each one is getting better.  I’ve got another one to make tonight or tomorrow.  I’ve looked a little bit into the legal side of things as well so things are progressing with this.  I haven’t sold any though and am a little nervous about this side of things.  Plus, I don’t think I am actually allowed to earn any extra money whilst receiving statuory maternity pay.  I’ll have to look into this as well.

5. Become really good at breastfeeding.  Feeding was going really well but we have had a few issues this last fortnight.  But I have been really proactive about it – I’ve visited another drop in breasfeeding group, have sought advice from friends and the internet and am reading a book.  I haven’t managed to feed in the sling or lying down, but let’ get these issues sorted out first.  I don’t want to go into what those issues are, because that’s not what this blog is about and because I am a little stressed over it, but I’ll report back soon, hopefully with good news.

6. Book a family holiday for next year.  This hasn’t happened or even been talked about.  However, we are now thinking about possibly trying to move house, in which case we will need the money to do that and a holiday wont happen for another few years.

7. Book a weekend away with Trevor and no babies.  I’m not ready to think about this yet.  I am leaving Natalie for a couple of hours tomorrow and that is a big step already.  And I am supposed to be going out with colleagues tomorrow evening and am already thinking I might not go because I need to be there for Natalie.  Especially as feeding is not going well and she had her first set of vaccinations today and wasn’t best pleased about it.  So thinking about a whole weekend without being there for her, or for Daniel, is not in the realms of my thoughts at the moment.  Maybe later in the year, but they need me too much and I may not acvhieve resolution number 5.

8. Make three homemade things.  Epic fail, haven’t started anything yet.  Have bought lots of lovely home magazines though if that counts

9. Have a driving licence by age 30.  Epic fail.  Haven’t even applied for learner’s licence yet.  Trev has said once the football season is over we could think about lessons for me, as he’ll have Saturdays fre again, but if we move house then we might not have the money for driving lessons, so this might just have to wait a while longer.

10. Move house.  We are crunching numbers and looking online, but haven’t started anything real yet.  Would really like this to happen before we have to start applying for schools for Daniel, but may have to start playing the lottery or else be stuck here forever.

So, I reckon that is good progress on 5/10 goals.  How are you doing?

Strange strangers, kind strangers?

How far do you trust strangers?  Are people just trying to be kind or are there alterior motives?  How do you know who are the “right” people to trust?

Let me explain why I started thinking about this:

We were in Bromley.  That is me, Daniel and Natalie.  We were going to pick up a stroller, which meant Daniel wasn’t in the stroller to begin with.  He had fallen asleep on the bus.  It was only for a few minutes, which tends to have the dual effect that a.) He is still really tired and therefore grouchy and b.) he thinks he has already had a nap, so wont always go back to sleep and so the vicious circle continues.

It was getting to the point where he was being really obstinate, refusing to behave.  He wouldn’t hold my hand or the stroller and wouldn’t get in the stroller either.  Safety is the most important thing so, sorry, baby boy, I am not letting you wander amongst people three times your height just so you can get lost, or worse.

We ended up in M and S, heading for the cafe.  I had promised cake, if he behaved, but as a bribe it was wearing thin.  I couldn’t manage pushing the stroller, holding his hand and trying to balance a tray as well.  So i decided like it or not, he would have to sit in the stroller just for a few minutes.  Oh boy, does he know how to throw a tantrum when he wants to!  I physically couldn’t force him into it.  And as it was brand new, I hadn’t fiddled about with the straps or anything yet.  So there I am, in the middle of M and S, with a screaming toddler, looking like the bad parent, physically trying to restrain him.  Natalie was in the sling at this point and all my bags were everywhere!

This kind old lady came along and offered to hold the stroller still while I put him in.  Yes please, thank you very much, your help would be appreciated muchly.  But that was as much help as I wanted.  Even with her help, I still couldn’t do it.  Then she did that typical “I’ve been through it and I’m much older than you and therefore I know what is best” and stated her piece:  “Maybe he is hungry, dear.  Or is he very tired?”  “Oh thank you, I’ve only been with my son every day of his life, I didn’t know how to read these cues and thank you for speaking about food in front of him, because now he thinks he is having whatever food he likes.”

Anyway, conversation continued and we headed back to the cafe.  That is me, Natalie, Daniel and now this old lady holding Daniel’s hand and trying to distract him out of his tantrum.  It was like the good cop/bad cop – I was clearly the bad cop and this old lady was the good cop - recognising he was hungry and fufilling his need.

I assumed she was heading to the cafe herself but it became apparent later that she only came to help us.  I started to put things on the tray and asked Daniel what he wanted.  “CAKE”.  No, darling, you threw a tantrum you are not getting cake and even if you were, you need something healthy like a sandwich.  “CAKE”.  No, Daniel, you are not getting cake.  “CAKE”.  The kind old lady continued playing good cop, but I was not having it.

She offered to distract him for a bit longer whilst I paid and got a table.  But she started wandering over to the home section and talking about colours of the jugs with Daniel.  This was great at distracting him, for sure.  But it meant he was more than a few metres away from me.  I was starting to get more than a little uncomfortable at her involvement now, especially as she wasn’t heading to the cafe herself.  I debated saying something, but if she was just being nice I didn’t want to upset her.  So I put the tray down and lurked near them, near enough so they both knew my presence.  Sorry, but no way was I going to let her wander around with my son.

Eventually she went, we settled down to lunch and Daniel got back in the stroller.  (After a bit of cake, yes, I know, I caved. But I had to feed Natalie and couldn’t risk Daniel wandering off whilst I was doing so and we also had to go and get a bus home – and when you are walking with a toddler a metre takes about three hours.)

BUT, what bothered me was this: It wasn’t thoughts of what was this lady’s purpose in helping us, it wasn’t how far she went before leaving us, it wasn’t even the fact that she wandered out of eyeshot (if I had let them).  It was Daniel.  He gets shy in front of strangers and even those we see all the time he hides behind his coat if he doesn’t feel comfortable.  And yet he was willing to hold a complete stranger’s hand, let her distract him and walk with her.  So what do I teach my son?  I want him to be an active citizen in this world, to be kind and open but also wise and streetwise.  Do I teach him not to talk to anyone and possibly further his already quite sensitive nature?  Or do I encourage him to open up, after all no man is an island – where is the community feel etc?  Or do I teach him it is ok to talk to certain strangers and not others?  There are certain people I wouldn’t want him to interact with.  Anyone who is clearly stoned/drunk etc is a no-no.  Their judgements will be impaired.  I don’t want him to go near people who are smoking either, it’s their choice if they want to give themselves lung cancer, but he is not going to think it is ok.

But after that, who?  Do we automatically trust and distrust people because of their looks?  And what is this based on other than our own pre-conceptions.  What if this had been a man?  He could still have kids/grankids, could still be a nice person just wanting to help.  What if had been a young person?  I remember the feeling as a teenager that everyone was wary of you and that used to frustrate me.  I wasn’t like other teenagers, I didn’t hang around the park after dark, I didn’t get drunk in the street, I wasn’t out to terrorise people.  And whose to say that only “weird” people are men?  I remember reading a story in secondary school about a pyschopath.  The point of the story was that she seemed like a kindly old lady until she talked of finding a German pilot dying in a nearby field during the war.

So how do we know?  It seems we are always trying to meet the middle – make the shy bolder and the outgoing more reserved.  Living in London means you learn to be naturally wary and news is so readily available that it clouds our thinking.  Although I don’t think “city” people are any different to “country” people – it’s just that there are more of them so the percentages of meeting someone you don’t want to associate with is higher.  Now I’m a Mum, and older, I like to think I am more open than perhaps I once was.  I do smile at people in the street and will talk to people in queues and things.

How do you teach a two year old how to operate in this day and age?  Thoughts please.

 

Comparative notes on a birth story

Yes, it’s a birth story.  I realise I have probably just turned off all the male readers with that statement but I don’t neccessarily blog for people to read it.  It’s therapy.  Giving birth is such an emotional, life-changing, intense, spiritual, incredible event.  In more ways than I realised.  I think it’s healthy to share stories.  My Mum said that is why people share theirs with you – it is recovery, even 20 years after the event.  Although when you are pregnant for the first time you don’t really want to know what is ahead, people just cannot help sharing and comparing.

I also have a lot of friends who have one baby and several of those are expecting their second, so they want to know that it is better the second time round.  If you want a quick answer: for me, yes it was, by miles!

I wont give you all of my birth story with Daniel – it was long and painful and I wouldn’t be able to fit Natalie’s birth story into this blog as well.  But I’m going to share my second birth.  (I still can’t believe I have two, I’m like a proper grown-up now!)

My pregnancy was much better this time round and from the time I left work at about 32 weeks until the end, I got out the house most days.  I went for long walks, I ate better, I was less worried, I enjoyed (and had my fair share of getting annoyed at) spending time with Daniel.  I also expected to be overdue.  Biologically I’m not supposed to have 40 week pregnancies, I will never have a baby “on time” -it’s just not the way my body works!

We had a family get-together 6 days after my due date, which I really wanted to be at and also to still be pregnant at.  And I was!  The same day I had a sweep and my sister in law gave me some reflexology designed to help start labour, if it is ready to start.  From that point on I had very mild, Braxton hick contractions but didn’t tell anyone!  I was just enjoying the sensation of them as my own little secret.

The next day was weird: I didn’t want to leave the flat.  Not even to go to Sainsburys.  I just didn’t want to stray, I think somewhere in the back of my mind I must have known it was all starting.  I never had that with Daniel; I never wanted to “nest”, I never had a feeling that anything was happening.  In fact I was so overdue with him, I just thought I might be the first person to stay pregnant forever!

That was Tuesday.  I think I might have had literally one or two contractions that day and I also had a show.  Everything I read, everything I knew from before told me it would still be a while: maybe even a whole week more.  The contractions felt different as well.  I was induced with Daniel and the contractions came strong, fast, without relenting and were very unproductive.  These were nothing like that.  Just a funny feeling in my tummy that went as soon as it came.  I could talk, walk, do everything still through each contraction.  I thought they might be like my first birth and still be non-productive, but looking back they were doing something.  The other thing that was different about these was that if I changed position, or lay down, they stopped.

Wednesday was much the same: more of a show, a few more mild contractions that came and went.  I was maybe having one every hour or so, it was still going to be a few days in my mind and I was definitely not in established labour.  But by about six pm I just wanted Daniel to go to bed.  Don’t play with him, don’t dawdle, just go the hell to sleep.  Which he did, little treasure   I was now getting about four an hour.  In my head, they were still unproductive and I still wasn’t really in labour.  They weren’t that painful (I said THAT painful, they still hurt!).  Being induced last time meant I was monitored throughout the whole of my labour.  But I knew that it was best to stay at home for as long as possible, they would only send me home and I probably wasn’t even dilated yet, they might even stop and start again.

But they didn’t stop.  I tried to do some things – last minute tidying up, I remember specifically trying to sort the socks into pairs (Why do we have so many black socks all with a slightly different pattern?!?!)  And I certainly didn’t want anyone around me, just let the contractions get on with it, almost separate to me as a person.

By 9pm the contractions were coming quite fast and I knew I was in labour.  It felt like it was all of a sudden.  It was at this point we realised we hadn’t bought anything to have as snacks, hadn’t checked for spare batteries for the TENS machine, hadn’t put toiletries in the bag etc.  It’s not that I was disorganised, I just thought I would have more time, that labour would be slower.  Of course I was also basing this on my labour with Daniel – that I would be there for days, that I would need energy, things to keep me occupied, things for after the birth.

I stuck the TENS machine on and looked for something good on the telly whilst I battled through the labour pains.  I was not going to lie on the bed, was not going to sit on the sofa, was not going to scream through each contraction.  So I knelt and used my inflatable ball as a rest.  Mamma Mia was on the telly, I’d never seen it before.  It’s not as good as I thought it would be and most of the time my eyes weren’t on it, but I was enjoying the musical distraction.  We rung my brother and his wife (the midwife) to come and give support and to have Daniel when we needed to head off.  We rung my Mum to come to give support and accompany us to the hospital.

At this point poor Trev was trying to massage my shoulders during each contraction, still packing the bag and was thinking everyone was just coming to support me.  I knew different.  We were on our way.  Why was everyone taking so long?  Didn’t they know I was having a baby like NOW?  And why was everyone so calm?  Logic told me it would take a while, my body was telling me I was ready.

So I told them I wanted to get to the hospital now.  The contractions were forcing me to moan and I certainly was not comfortable.  I remember changing position and saying it was a bad position.  My sister in law said it was a good place – it meant the baby was pressing on my cervix.  Yes, but that made it hurt more!  My whole attitude was better this time round though – pain meant something was happening.  And boy was it happening!

My brother was to help me into the car.  I felt like I needed to wee but when I sat on the toilet all I wanted to do was push.  Poor guy, I had about 4 or 5 contractions, just on my way to the car and could barely move.  But we managed to get there.  In the car we rang the hospital to say we were on our way.  They wanted to know how far apart my contractions were.  I could barely speak, but I managed to blurt out that I didn’t know but we were coming anyway.  I was still thinking about my birth with Daniel and so I told them that I wanted an epidural but really, I think the baby was ready to be born there and then.  I couldn’t have an epidural because labour suite was full and I was to go to the Oasis birthing centre instead, where I could have gas and air and water.  I didn’t really care.  I couldn’t understand why they kept talking to me, just let me get there.

So off we went.  I wasn’t strapped in and held onto the handle at the side of the car with one hand and my hand over the back seat with the other.  I was vaguely aware that Trevor was going quite fast.  I knew I had to get through each contraction on my own.  Trevor couldn’t massage me, he could just tell me to breathe and not to push, as I had already told him the baby was coming NOW!  Even though I was in a state, I still knew where we were and that we managed to hit only green traffic lights (thank you Lord.)  Trevor was concentrating so much on driving that he missed the turning and had to do a u turn.

Parking the car at the drop off point, he ran inside only to find there was no-one on reception.  It felt like we had come so far and rushed about to make it to the hospital in time, only for things to not be in place for us.  Images of newspapers stating “woman gives birth in car park” flashed through my mind.  With Daniel I pushed for two hours but this baby was ready to birth itself and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

So Trev managed to “steal” me a wheelchair and we raced, literally, inside.  Contractions had no breaks between them and people moved out of our way, opened doors and pressed lift buttons as I screamed the baby is coming now.  We got upstairs, rung the buzzer at labour ward only for no-one to answer it.  We legged it along to Oasis where we were buzzed in, only to be told to wait at reception.  I did swear at this point (sorry Mum).  But honestly, where the hell was my medical team?  I made Trev go along and see the midwife anyway, who was on the phone.  This was the most frustrating moment.  It was very quiet, and I had a tiny break in contractions.  Then another contraction came.  “Help me, the baby is coming”.  The poor midwife broke off her telephone call and said we were to wait at reception.  Well one look at me and Trevor told her we couldn’t.

Instead she ran with me in the wheelchair and took all the way along the corridor, back to Oasis.  I could hear her saying to the midwife “She feels like she’s ready to push”.  Inside my head I was screaming, partly with relief that finally someone understood and partly with the need to say “I don’t feel I need to push, I DO need to push.”  I never had that with Daniel.  People tell me it’s because I had an epidural but it’s not.  I just took so long to get fully dilated that I didn’t know what it would feel like to move to the next stage of labour.

Stupid me, I was wearing leggings.  How were they going to get them off?  Maybe the baby would just burst through them?  Trev managed to get my shoes and leggings off and the midwife asked me to jump on the bed, so she could hear baby’s heartbeat.  No.  I couldn’t move.  The baby was literally at the opening door.  But the second time she asked, I did manage to get on the bed.  Where the midwife struggled to find the heartbeat because the baby was so far down the birth canal.  And I started to push.  I almost didn’t even know I was pushing.  I had been holding on for so long, this was it now.  No time for any of that medical stuff, let’s just get the baby out.

I think it might have been this point my Mum came in.  She took longer than us because she didn’t want to pay for the hospital car park and had parked a few streets away.  She asked the midwife how many centimetres I was: obviously she as thinking about my birth with Daniel as well because the midwife’s response was “well, I can see the head and she’s pushing, so I think we might be there.”

Ten minutes later and Natalie was born.  I thought it might be even quicker than that, because I had held on for so long and as a result I pushed without a contraction and tore.  I was alert, Natalie cried, I watched everything happening.  I even had a good look at the placenta (quite fascinating really.)  After this the midwife read my notes, introduced herself and offered me a cup of tea.  After Daniel was born, I went into a state of shock, was sick, fell asleep, he needed oxygen and didn’t cry and the crappy food I got later that day did nothing to fill my stomach.  What a difference!

Natalie was born on that Wednesday at ten to midnight.  I think I had better plan a homebirth next time and tell my midwife the moment my contractions start!

What they don’t tell you.

They tell you giving birth will hurt like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

They tell you that you will never sleep a full night again.

They tell you “He’s walking…now the fun really begins”.

They tell you your sex life will never be the same.

 

They don’t tell you about the little things.  About how the umbilical cord smells when it falls off, about how little girls (and boys) have a small period when they are born, about the fact that pain in labour means the baby is coming.  They tell you that you will have to lose weight, that you will always be big after having children.  They don’t tell you that you will have to lose excess skin as well as fat; that your belly will look like a deflated balloon.  They don’t tell you about milk spots or that teething seems to last forever, or that you must remember to take a spare top for you for when  your baby pukes/pees/poos all over you.  They don’t tell you about the little milk blister, about how frustrating clothes without a bottom set of poppers are, about the fact that you have to do everything with one hand.  They don’t tell you that falling in love takes time and you shouldn’t beat yourself up if you don’t get that instant rush of love that others talk about.

They don’t tell you that you learn to cope with less sleep and that it doesn’t last forever.  They don’t tell you that once you have recovered from the birth, your sex life might actually be better.  They don’t tell you that nobody knows what they are doing, but somehow we all make it through.  They don’t tell you that becoming a parent makes you determined, refocuses your entire aspect of every part of life, that it makes you explore options you never thought possible, that you become so much more of a rounded person, that it is the making of some people.  They don’t tell you to enjoy each stage, because the next comes all too quickly.  They don’t tell you that parenting sends you laughs every day.  (well, most.) They don’t tell you that becoming like your own mother isn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be, because actually your mother did a good job too.  They don’t tell you that kids are incredibly forgiving.  They don’t tell you that every day you manage to mess up some part of parenting but the kids all seem to turn out ok in the end.

Being a parent changes you and changes your life.  Now who wouldn’t want to be told that?

Reflections and Resolutions

Another year over, a new one just begun.  I know I’m a little late to be thinking about resolutions and things, but life has gotten a little busy!

2011 was a year of great change, great personal soul-searching and great moments of adapting.  I tend to think in academic years, so some of this might date back to late 2010.  I  can’t help it, after all, I’ve never left school!

Well let’s start with some of the positive.  My brother, often described as the most eligible bachelor at Christ Central, got hitched!  Oh yes, to a wonderful, beautiful lady.  It was a stunning wedding befitting the stunning couple.  And now they are expecting a baby.  I cannot tell you how excited I am!  I made some fantastic new friends and became close to those that were previously just acquaintances.  My son developed much more into his own personality and moved out of the baby years and into the toddler ones.  (Gulp!)  He turned two.  Trevor and I celebrated 5 years of marriage.  5 years!!!  That’s like, a proper relationship!:)  We had a superb holiday with my parents and ALL my siblings – something we’ve been trying to do for years.  And most life changing of all was becoming pregnant with our second child.  I guess for me, the year was about adapting to being a working, pregnant Mummy, trying to find my position in the world.

There were sad moments as well.  I said goodbye to some awesome colleagues and I lost my dear Grandad.  Like all years, it was a time of bumpy paths and smooth ones, of small moments and big ones and moments that seemed insignificant at the time but remain in my thoughts.

So, it’s on to the next.  I’m not necessarily one for new years resolution’s for the sake of them.  I being of academic mindset in time frame I often make them in September.  But it seemed fitting this year to make them at the start of the year.  With a new life to think about and some serious decisions to make this year, that may shape my future, it’s time to get down to business.  There will be none of these vague, wishy washy “be a better parent” stuff.  That goes without saying.  Of course I want to be a better Mum, wife, sister, daughter, Christian.  But that doesn’t really achieve anything.  Targets should be SMART (Thanks for the acronym bruv).  That is to say Simple, Measureable, Achieveable, Realistic and Time-bound.  Otherwise, how do you know you have achieved them, what will you say at the end of the year?

I am going to be a bit of a hypocrite though, in that not all of my resolutions will fit all of these.  I do believe that in writing them down and in sharing them that they are more likely to become a reality.  And they are things I actually really want to get right, not just so I can say I’m a better person(thank goodness I am under grace and not under law) but so that I have something to look forward to, something to strive for, something to make myself do.

So here they are: (stop procrastinating is not on my list, but maybe it should be).

1. Lose a stone.  I wrote this before the baby was born.  Now I have weighed myself I think it needs to be lose two stone.  Safely, over the course of a year and without compromising on getting enough calories for breastfeeding.

2. Get my stomach muscles back together through daily, gentle exercise.  This is no mean feat.  I have very separated muscles from the birth of my first child, that never knitted back together.  This is more than just your average “Mummy Tummy” and I have been researching it lots.  I need to be very careful with these muscles and thankfully for me, sit-ups are not the way to do it:)  Might write more about this in a separate blog, we’ll see how it goes.

3. Maintain blog.  I’m aiming for one post at least once a fortnight.  This will be easier when we buy a laptop

4. Improve nappy cake making skills.  I know, this isn’t measureable or time-bound.  It’s something I’m exploring as a means of making a bit of money.  I have at least four friends that I know about who are due to give birth this year, so that gives me the opportunity to make them at least four times as good as the first two I have made.  We’ll see how it goes time and money wise.  If anyone wants me to make one for someone and is willing to give me a bit of money I’m happy to talk specifics

5. Become really good at breastfeeding.  I want specifically to master feeding whilst lying down in bed and whilst baby is in the sling.  This is going to take some serious effort on my part.  Thankfully Natalie already seems more willing than Daniel was.  I’ve already attended one breastfeeding clinic, so I’m on my way.  There are other specifics I’m not going to bore you all with, but let’s hope Natalie’s weight goes up in stages that the doctor is happier with than when I was feeding Daniel.

6. Book a family holiday for 2013.  Really, really important.  Family might include extended, might just be us four.  But it definitely needs to happen!

7. Book a weekend away with Trevor and NO BABIES!!!  This might need to link into number 5 – I’m not going to even think about it yet until we see how routines and patterns and feeding etc goes with Natalie.  It certainly wont be for the foreseeable future, but I would love it to happen maybe towards the end of the year.  This is why I’m writing it down, so I can look back and make sure it happens and doesn’t just go by the wayside.  Time with my husband is going to be even more important now we have two little ones to consider.

8.  Make three homemade things, not edible things.  I’ve been given both of Kirstie’s (queen of all) books, so it’s just a case of choosing something and going for it.

 

And two more that aren’t strictly resolutions, but things that I want to aspire to:

1. Have a driving licence by the time I’m 30 (I’m 28 now.)

2. Move house, with specific regards to what Primary School we want Daniel to go to.  I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about that, surely he was only born yesterday?!?!  But it’s something we seriously need to start thinking about.

 

So that’s it.  What do you think?  Can I do it?  Is it too much?  Is it too little?  I guess I’ll let you know in December.

Christmas…and a new baby!

I love Christmas.  Sure, it’s stressful trying to find the perfect present for everbody.  I have a big family (I don’t really buy for friends any more) and I do like to get them something “off list”.  Ok, let me explain about the lists…we all make them.  If you don’t make a Christmas list you’re in big trouble.  I have three siblings, all with partners, one with a child, a husband, his sister, his mother, his stepfamily, my parents and a son all to buy for.  Two of my siblings partners have large families as well.  So if you don’t make a list and tell all those other people what you have bought off those lists it all gets a bit complicated.  Like the year half of us had to take stuff back because somebody else had already got it.  See, I don’t believe in getting people tat.  I’ve been there, done that, it goes in the bag for the charity shop!  So I also like, if I can, to find something off list where possible, something that matches their style and personality and is unexpected.

And I love the decorations.  I love putting up the tree.  It’s my tree, Trevor doesn’t get a say.  I guess that stems back to my mother never letting me decorate the tree!  Sorry Daniel, you might be able to have your own little tree in your room when you’re old enough to do what you like with but the one in the living room will remain my domain.  I like to whack on a Christmas CD (either the classic hits or Destiny’s Child), drink some wine, have a movie playing in the background and make it all perfect.

I love seeing decorations everywhere else as well.  I love to go to London and see the lights, do some shopping and visit the larger department stores.  I especially love Harrods and Selfridges, not that I normally can afford to buy anything in either of those places but a girl can dream.  Occasionally a lucky member of the family will also be a recipient of a gift from one of these stores.

Ah, but see, this year I am very pregnant.  So if there is any wine it will be a tiny amount.  And trying to shop whilst pushing around a curious and active toddler and also the one leaning on my internal organs takes fives times as long.  And it makes me TIRED.    And on top of that I need to get the flat and everything else ready for the new arrival.

All the way through my pregnancy I have joked that the baby will come on a date that is conveninent for me.  Not the 27th December as it’s due date.  But it’s not really been a joke.  Daniel was late and I have a long cycle, which means biologically this baby should be late too.  A due date shouldn’t really be called that.  It’s not a due date.  I can’t ring the post office and complain if it doesn’t arrive then.  It should be called a guess at a date.   Yes, I know technically it is ESTIMATED due date, but due suggests it SHOULD be here by that date.

But recently I have started to think, well, what if it’s not late?  What if it comes before Christmas and there are people that I haven’t bought gifts for?  And stuff not having the decorations up, what if the flat isn’t ready?  To be fair, it’s not like we really need anything.  If I haven’t picked up the Moses basket from my sister it will just sleep in our bed.  We don’t need bottles as I will be breastfeeding.  I already have a pram and plenty of slings.  And girl or boy, we have lots of Daniel’s clothes ready to go.  But I haven’t packed my hospital bag yet and I haven’t bought a gift from baby to Daniel and I haven’t written my birth plan.

So my to do list in time for Christmas is now my to-do list in time for Christmas and in case baby makes an appearance.

Maybe all this thinking is my way of nesting?  I guess what will be will be.

I’ll  let you all know when baby is here, so none of this ringing me and saying “any news” yet business.

Wish me luck!!

Strangeness

The world of children’s television is a strange one.  There are so many things that don’t make sense!

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I am a lover of literature, of films, of stories, of suspending what might be totally real so that you can enter wholeheartedly into a make-believe world.  I can even believe that there is a world where Grandad’s shrink, birds ride bikes and a Mum can have 10 children and still look amazing.  But there are certain things to me that I just don’t get.

The biggie that always gets me is Rastamouse.  They all wear shirts, the president even wears a tie.  The girl mouse wears a skirt.  But where are the men’s trousers?  The shirts aren’t long and it just looks like they are walking around half in the nude (although this is kid’s tv, so there are no “bits” to worry about.  How hard is it to give them some dignity hey?

And what about Charlie and Lola?  I love this show, I love the books, I love the way they talk, I love the animation, I love the  fantasy elements.  But where are the parents?  Today, for example, Charlie and Lola went to the library.  It showed them walking to the library by themselves.  No problem there.  But then Charlie says “Dad says it is time to go.”  What, does he have psyhic powers or something?  You never see them, although they are frequently mentioned.  I guess Lauren Child would have had to define some sort of character for them, which maybe comes away from the feel of the show.  But still, seems a little odd.  Like that advert – always there, never the centre, or whatever it says.

How about this one: in 3rd and bird there is one particular bird that loves shoes.  A girl after my own heart.  As far as I can tell from the animation (She didn’t feature today and my memory is hazy) the shoes look like normal shoes.  But birds have three toe-like features.  Does she stick one toe in?  Or maybe she has bunions from squeezing two of them into very unnatural positions.  Or maybe she doesn’t actually wear them, she just owns them?

Story train runs without tracks.

Another one on parents – where are Mr Tumbles?  It seems he lives with his two aunts, his grandad and gets visits from other members of the family.  (We love Cool Tumble in this house.)  What happened to his parents?  Is he an orphan?  Did they die in some freak accident?  Have they taken an extended holiday?  Or did they simply disown Mr Tumble because he is so vain, always putting pictures of himself in his spotty bag???

And lastly, has anyone noticed that the whole of Sunnysands seems to be on drugs?  Or why has no-one blamed the parents for rhyming their son’s names?  Jason Mason is just cruel.

 

What baffles you?  I’d love to know.  Although it does mean that you can never look at those shows again without thinking about the inconruities.

Sorry about that.

Why I miss babywearing

I love babywearing.  That is to say, wearing my baby in a properly designed, well fitting, comfortable and beautiful sling.  But at the moment it’s really difficult because of baby number two.  My favourite slings are connecta, which is a soft structered carrier (SSC).  I can’t wear Daniel in this now because it has a buckle which presses on the baby in my tummy and the surrounding organs (mostly my bladder!).

 

I am really missing it.  Here are some of the reasons why:

I love how quickly I can get Daniel into a sling.  Front or back, I just fling him in and go. (Back is slightly harder but not as difficult as you might think).  Recently he is really fighting the pram.  To the point where the other day I was going to take him to the park, but he wouldn’t get in the pram and refused to hold my hand.  I couldn’t find the reins and I was certainly not going to carry him all the way there.   So we came straight upstairs again.   He is at an age now where he really knows what he wants, isn’t afraid to let you know and is very independent.  However, when we venture outside he turns into quite an insecure little man and wants to be picked up.  This obviously hurts my back (slings have never hurt my back btw, except maybe carrying him for about four hours over the mountains in the Lake District.)  Also, after having Daniel I was told that my abdominal muscles never knitted themselves back together (hence the permament “bum belly”).  The midwife at my last appointment told me it means I am using my back muscles where I would normally use my abdominals and will have to physiotherapy at least after the baby is born, and maybe even before that.  So carrying him without a sling is a definate no-no.  Today we went out for a quick look around the shops.  I managed to get him into the pram without too much of a fuss, because he was tired and fell asleep within minutes.  But then he woke up.  I stopped off at an M and S cafe and plied him with cake and strawberries and let him wander around a bit.  And I bought him some crayons and a colouring book and let him walk around for a bit.  This helped, but oh boy was it hard getting him back in the pram.  I bought a new wrist link (£6 – how much!!!) attached him to me and off we went.  But then we had to navigate shops and pavements with him twisting the wrist link, plus holding the pram with one hand and he STILL wanted to be picked up.  I eventually forced him (and it was forced) into the pram and bribed him to behave with healthy baby biscuits.  Not the mother I wanted to be, but at least we avoided full on melt down, although it was touch and go at one point.

I love that with a sling I can go anywhere.  The summer holidays are here and I want to take Daniel places.  I want to go back to the Hornimans museum with him, he loved it last time.  I want to take him to Battersea children’s zoo, which involves getting a train to London.  I want to take him to the play cafe, which involves a tram journey.  I want to take him all over.  I have considered a stoller and will probably get one just for the summer, as I really hate seeing newborns in strollers, it is so unnatural.  With the pram I struggle on the bus.  I have been known to take the 3 times as long 358 journey to Bromley, rather than the quick 227, as I know it is always packed and I can’t fit the pram down the aisle.  All the train stations near me have steps.  Oh boy is it hard getting either a pram or a curious toddler up and down stairs.  We live in a flat, so stairs are a bit of a novelty for my little man.  And the curiousty.  You can just seem him going for things and you’re like “hmm, yes, darling, that is a nice bit of graffiti on the wall, yes very nice dirt and  what a gorgeous cigarette butt someone has dropped on the floor, please don’t t0uch!”  I actually have thought I wont take him to the hornimans until I have a stroller or have perfected my long wrap carry (more on that later.)  The tram isn’t too bad, but I can’t go to the stop that is 20metres down my own road, because there are steps over the railway line.

I love the closeness of a sling.  Daniel has been really sweet recently and been giving lots of hugs and kisses to me and his Daddy.  He doesn’t give them when we go out, probably because I am repeating over and over “Either walk and hold my hand or get in the pram” to which Daniel responds with increasing desperation “No, no, no, no, *cries* no, no, *screams* no, no.”  I know it is a battle of wills and he maybe, being the age he is, he would be like this anyway with the sling.  But I don’t recall him struggling for more than a few minutes to get in the slings and normally only if I’ve done it wrong and have to start again.  I hate seeing him like this.  And I hate how I am when he is like this.  But it feels like there is little choice.  Even on my back, Daniel would talk to me and point things out to me.  I still mostly have him in parent-facing mode in the pram (Quote: “Why would I want to push my baby away from me”) but it’s not the same.

I love how babywearing makes me stand out.  When I am walking with the pram, I feel like every other Mummy.   That might sound ridiculous, or maybe even appealing to some of you.  But not to me.  I loved seeing other babywearers and sharing that smile, like it was some sort of club.  I love how people smile at me and Daniel when he is in a sling.  Even those that think he is too big to be worn give a little head tilt and a “ahh”.  I love that people ask me about them.  I love how pretty they are.  I love explaining why they are so good for baby and for Mum and why they are so well designed.  I love that people are curious.  I love that I’ve made a well-informed and amazing decision about how to raise my son.  Especially as he does seem a bit insecure at times.  If he wants to snuggle down and hide a little he can.  If he wants to point at things around him, he can.  If he wants to sleep, without getting overhot like he did in the pram today, he can.  If he wants to get down and walk, he can because getting him back in the sling wont be an issue.

 

There are many other reasons why babywearing is fantastic.  I do have a long wrap, which is basically a long piece of specialised material that doesn’t have buckles or clips or buttons.  I have been you-tubeing ways of wearing a baby that don’t require tying around the waist, so they are comfortable to wear during pregnancy.  I had a go at one today, but it wasn’t that sucessful.  They are definiately harder to master than an SSC, but I am determined.  I don’t want to lose what I had with Daniel.  I know how to do front carries with my wrap, but really want to wear him on my back so my bump is free (and people don’t mistake it for fat.)

My friend has just taken over a website, where I have bought most of my slings from.  Check it out: www.petitpoppet.com  She will also come and visit and show you how to use different slings and different holds, with no pressure to buy.  And if you’re still not sure, the website runs a “try before you buy” scheme, with proceeds going towards SANDS (Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Society. )  Plus, she is lovely

In the meantime, it’s time for me to get practising my long wrap back carries.  Wish me luck.

Did I miss out from the choices I made?

It’s funny how God leads you in certain ways.

 

I’ve been thinking about this for a while and will explain more in a minute.  But isn’t it funny how God leads you to have certain conversations with people that change your mindset about something, or puts things in your path for you to dwell on.

 

Two of my friends are getting married within the next few weeks.  They are both young and beautiful and really love life.  Strangely, like me, they are both teachers.  I started thinking about them and having seen the things they got up to on their hen nights, envied the lives that they have – lots of friends, social events and going out.   It made me think about the choices I made – about getting married to someone six years older than me and having babies reasonably young and theref0re having to miss out on a lot of things.  It also got me thinking about my own hen night.  I technically had two hen nights, although one of them wasn’t very “hen nighty” and the other was with colleagues – not a problem, but not what most hen nights are made of.  I tried to organise something else but no-one seemed available at the right times.

 

Also, I never really had a set of friends like that.  I have girlfriends, but they aren’t in one group and tend to be quite spread out.  And of course because of the choices that I have made, the  people I associate myself with through choice and also through lifestyle tend to be mothers and wives.

 

I did get to go on a hen night recently, that of my now sister in law.  It was great fun.  But showing how life has changed, there were, I think, four pregnant people, so no drinking and all night dancing for them, two people who had newborn babies to look after and several others who were older or mums as well.  The thing that was funny though, was this was a great opportunity to let OH look after Daniel, stay out till late, dance the night away and enjoy some drink, but I found myself saying things like “Does it have to be so LOUD?”  Oh my goodness, how old did I feel?  Also, I couldn’t wait to get home and go to bed.  And not for any other fun, but to sleep!  It’s not even as if I would have to get up that early, because Daniel is a good sleeper and doesn’t wake that early, but just because I was knackered.  I still love to dance and I still think I am reasonably ok at it, but I just don’t have the confidence like I did when I was younger.  Plus, to be totally honest,  when I was young I enjoyed the fact that boys would look at me (although they weren’t going to get anything – HA) and that I was sexy.  Not at all do I feel sexy now!  Looking at the photos from that night I am horrified about how BIG I am (I would like to point out that I wasn’t pregnant at that point) and how AWFUL I looked.

 

So that brings me full circle – did I miss out on the choices I made?  At times, the answer is defininately yes.  One very clear example to me was my brother’s wedding, of which I felt I was hardly there because I had to be with Daniel all the time, as Trevor was best man and had duties to fufill.  I missed the cutting of the cake, I missed the first dance, I missed the last dance, I stood at the back for most of the ceremony with a fidgety little boy.  I also miss out on the spontaneity of events, I can’t go to the cinema with my husband, I can’t go to dinner if I didn’t buy anything to eat, I can’t just nip out even for a little bit.

 

But in other ways the answer in a resounding no.  I have a wonderful little man in my life.  He is intriguing, incredible, fascinating, beautiful and keeps me creative.  I have an amazing husband who is always there for me and loves me to pieces.  And I have been forced to let work take a back seat, which was seriously threatening to take over every minute of my awake and sleeping life.

 

Who knows what the future will bring?  To say I am nervous about life with two children is certainly true.  Who knows if I will return to work?  Who knows if I will discover another way of making money, that allows me more time with my family?  Who knows if there will be more children?  Who knows what my children will become and in what ways they might need me?

 

Well, God does.