New Year, new start.

New year, new start.

A lot has happened since my last post when I went off on one about my recently diagnosed overactive thyroid.  It seems I didn't have that.  And it seems I could get pregnant.

I have Hashimotos which means my thyroid swings from overactive to underactive a lot. By the time I met with the consultant it had gone to underactive and I was also pregnant. Less than a month after being told it's unlikely I would get pregnant, I found out I was.

Great news, except I'd stopped taking the folic acid and had been having a rather nice time eating and drinking (especially drinking) things I shouldn't have been whilst on holiday.   Unfortunately the great news was relatively short-lived as, after not being treated for Hashimotos until I was almost 9 weeks pregnant, I sadly lost the baby 2 weeks after treatment started.  Conversations with my consultant indicate that my condition and lack of treatment in the early stages was almost certainly the cause of the miscarriage.  Not brilliant news but at least it helps to draw a line under things and accept there was nothing I could have done.

I won't lie, I still have a few wobbles, but I'm quite pragmatic about these things.  If there was a problem I would rather know early in a pregnancy rather than 20 weeks down the line (or worse), I can't imagine what that must be like -  losing at 11 weeks was horrendous physically and emotionally draining.

With various other things going on at the end of the year too, I'm glad that Christmas helped to serve us all into getting back to happier times.  So with the new year in full swing I'm determined that 2015 is going to be a much better year in almost every way.

I probably won't get much thinner and certainly won't get any taller but I will be calmer and more peaceful.  I'm not making resolutions as such but I am determined to accept the things I cannot change and be thankful for the things I have (and just occasionally sing and dance like nobody is watching!).

Just what the doctor ordered.

Apparently I have an overactive thyroid.

When my doctor told me on Friday, I almost laughed it off, thinking how unfair it was that one of the symptoms is meant to be excessive weight loss. HA! Fat chance of that (if you'll pardon the pun) as this condition increases your metabolism. 

He didn't make it sound terribly serious and told me that he would refer me to an endocrinologist (without actually telling me what that was) and they would sort me out with some drugs.  I pushed a little further to see what the implications were - I was worried this would cause me to put on the weight I had fought so hard to lose this last month.  All he could reply was that I needed to lose weight as my BMI was too high (tell me something I don't know) and it's all about calories.  Really?  Gosh, I hadn't noticed.  Perhaps you would care to ask me about my diet and exercise?  No?  Okay doc, I get the point, I must just eat too many cakes and sit on the sofa all day... 

Realising i was going to have find out for myself I went home to do exactly that.  

Wow.  Not that serious?  So now I'm more stressed that I've ever been (and apparently that is also a symptom).  Let's look at the list shall we...

* Feeling nervous, irritable or hyperactive
Ask my husband.  I think he will confirm at least 2 out of those 3. The dentist has confirmed that I have been grinding my teeth in my sleep for years - I am wearing them down and I have jaw, ear and headache a lot. 

* Sweating more than usual & unable to cope with heat.
So, something I have complained to my doctor about for years, even resulting in taking tablets for hyperhidrosis and having underarm botox injections. Unnecessary perhaps?
Does that explain why I can't even run for 10 seconds for a train without looking like someone has chucked water over my face?

* tremors/shaking
After short bursts of exercise, the hands go.

* Muscle weakness.  
Oh so you mean falling over all the time isn't normal?  Rolling my ankles on an almost daily basis to the point I sprained them so badly a few months ago that I couldn't walk for 2 days and there is still some swelling and my chances of going running again are pretty much shot - that's just one of those things is it?

* Palpitations and increased heart rate
The fact my heart rate goes off the scale during a run isn't just down to me being unfit (even though I did this 3 times a week for years)  considering my resting heart rate has always been really low. And the palpitations that I asked the doctor about 4 years ago... not in my imagination then?   Oh and the low blood-pressure ? Yep that's a symptom too. 

* thinning or loss of hair, more susceptible to greying.
It comes out in handfuls at every brush and my hair dye receipts are racking up.

* having more frequent bowel movements/diarrhoea 
So not IBS then as diagnosed?  Excellent. 

* excessive weight loss and increased appetite.
erm.  Nope.  Seemed to have dodged that one - the only one I could have coped with.

* reduced fertility and complications in pregnancy.

The reason the tests were done in the first place... Probably the reason I lost 2 pregnancies during the first year of trying and now, since Boychild was born, the reason I'm struggling again with the likelihood of at least one loss around Christmas last year.   It's a miracle we managed to have a child at all. 

These are all 'minor' things  when you look at them, however the more you read the worse it gets.  Without treatment, this can cause blood clots, stroke, heart attack, problems with your vision including sensitivity to light and blurring (yep, had all that too).

I know that self-diagnosis is a dangerous and scary thing, but when your doctor doesn't talk to you then you have little choice.  At least now I am armed for when my referral comes through.   Particularly given we are still trying for another baby.  The drugs are required to help but aren't conducive necessarily to being pregnant.   Brilliant.

Don't misunderstand me, I know that one or two of the things I have experienced over the last 10 years could well have coincidental and nothing to do with my thyroid and given that the most obvious symptom (weight loss) I don't seem to have suffered from then it's easy to see how this was overlooked.  But if you look at everything together isn't it obvious?

Anyway, it's all something else for me to worry about.  Brilliant.  Just what the doctor ordered. 

People in glass houses...

Can I just start by saying that I do not like or condone the tumblr site entitled 'Women who eat on tubes'.

I just had to put up that disclaimer  because when discussing this with a colleague this morning, she clearly misunderstood and seemed to think I was, in some way, defending the actions of the person 'running' the site. 

For the uninitiated among us, this is webpage that invites you to send photos taken of women eating on the London Underground.  And 99.9% of the time, these women are blissfully unaware of their image being circulated.

My first thought was 'What? And men DON'T eat on tubes?'  closely followed by a number of alternatives I could think of involving chaps who open their legs so wide you can't sit on the seat next to them perhaps called 'I think I have a large **** dot com'.  You see, we all have our own 'thing' and pet-hate about public transport or public displays or basically the public in general.  But once you stop making them your own private pet-hate and putting them out on general display you do have to think about things a little more.

There are many things wrong about the concept of 'Women who eat on tubes' ( I'm sure it will be discussed ad nauseam online and off), not the least that photos are being taken and posted without permission.  The thing that particularly sticks in my craw is the condemnation in the 'witty' captions below some of the pictures.  For example 'three little piggies'  and my personal  favourite

"She had a bag of Vanilla Party Wafers and a carrier bag full of toilet roll and no matter how hard she tried she just couldn’t stop jamming those party wafers in her mouth. "

Not 'eating'?.  She was 'jamming them in her mouth'. Really?  So were they actually being forced in until she couldn't move her face or was she basically eating them one at a time but you thought this was gluttonous behaviour and had to make a big deal of pointing out how disgusting you thought this was?

From what I understand, the website became famous this week when a female journalist was snapped and posted online.  She was then told about her photograph being there by a friend.  Since then, the journalist has been in touch with the administrator of the site and had her image removed. 

But for her to know about the photograph being there, someone she knew must have been perusing the page to spot her.  So clearly they thought it was okay to look at strangers but thought it's not on for their friend to be ridiculed in this way.  

This made me think - as, it appears, did the journalist in question.  If this site is offensive to me (and her) then what about other similar sites?   'Look at my fucking red trousers' is one such site where, again, the public is invited to send in photos of (predominantly) men wearing fairly loud red trousers (you can see, the clue is the name ...).  I'll admit it , I've looked at that site and found it amusing.  I know many others who have thought the same. From what I recall, the captions are nowhere near as scathing although I may be recalling it through rose-tinted specs.   Would I be happy if my picture appeared with me eating a bag of crisps on the Circle Line?  Probably not. But in reality these two sites should probably not be treated any differently - in my most humble opinion.

You have to decide in which camp you are going to fall.  If you are in the camp who is happy to chuckle away at other members of the public in garish clothes (or similar) then personally I don't think you have the right to be offended by something like 'Women who eat on tubes'.   If you are offended (and that is your absolute right) then surely you have rescinded your rights to laugh at others in a similar way.  It's made me take an alternative look at things and hopefully will change the way I share online. 

If these webpages are to exist and are not intended to upset or offend anyone then all they need to do is ask the subject's permission to take a photo and upload it.  If the people being photographed are 'in' on the joke and are happy to participate then I can't see any problem with it. 

Oh and perhaps also not make a crass comment about being a pig just because they are eating would help too.  You know, that thing that everyone does several times a day...

Kensington Muses...

Working in Kensington for almost 10 years has upsides (FABULOUS shops) and downsides (it's bloody miles from where I live) but there are a few things I've noticed recently that drive me mad about it.  Well, they make me shrug a bit anyway...

* If you don't push the 'Wait' button at a pelican crossing, the lights will never go red to allow you to cross.  I don't think people in Kensington have quite got that concept yet.

* Red lights at pelican crossings apply to EVERYONE.  That includes the following people: 1) Young chap in the clapped-out fiesta who 'beeped' us pedestrians who dared to cross the road when the green man was visible, whilst he revved his engine and inched forward aggressively. 2) The cyclist who narrowly missed me and several other pedestrians as he ran the red without even slowing down last week.  3) the chap with the trailer on his bicycle who almost crashed this morning when he realised the lights were red (I think the stationary cars and preceding amber light should have been your cue)

* So far the cleaning of the pedestrianised square, on which my office is situated, has taken 3 chaps more than 4 days to jet wash and they are still going.  It's about the size of an average primary school playground. It looks no different to how it did on Monday when they started.  They must be getting paid by the hour.

*  Famous people only come out to play in the shops I used almost every day on the days I decide not to bother.  Adele spent a couple of hours in the kids section of H&M the one day I didn't go in last month.  Prince Harry went into the office next door on the day I worked from home. 

*Cycling on the wrong side of Kensington High Street is, apparently, perfectly acceptable if the traffic lights are red. 

* Grandmothers navigating pushchairs seem to think it's also perfectly acceptable to steer their charges into the paths of oncoming traffic if the pedestrian crossing isn't working fast enough for them.  

* I am not phased in the slightest by the armed policemen walking up to the Police Checkpoint at Kensington Palace Gardens even though they are carrying bloody great rifles with their fingers poised on the trigger.  I feel this should scare me slightly more than it does. 

*  The Circle line.  

WTF?????

I happened upon an article in 'Mother & Baby' today and followed the link.    In a nutshell, it was a blog about a letter that had been pushed under a hotel door complaining about the occupants' crying baby.  The neighbours to aforementioned crying baby decided to wait 2 days before taking action.  

What action did they take?

They could have knocked on the door of their neighbour on the pretence of checking everything was okay, thus alerting the parents to the thinness of the hotel walls.

They could have called reception to ask them to do something - taking the pressure and awkwardness away from them.

They could have had a quiet word with the parents the following morning.

Or, if all else failed, they could have spoken with the hotel to see how long the baby was staying and then to request a change of room. 

They did none of those things.  They waited til they were leaving and pushed an anonymous note under the door telling the parents how irresponsible they were, how inconsiderate they were and how disgraceful they were.  They said that a baby had no place in a hotel at a ski resort - a resort that was also hosting a conference that baby's father was part of, and a hotel that offered baby facilities/kids clubs etc, so not an adult-only one.  

By this point the parents had no chance to speak to their neighbours to apologise or try to explain.    It appears, the baby in question was teething.  Ahhhhh, teething.  That amazing phenomenon that comes and goes without warning and strikes fear into the hearts and minds of parents everywhere.  You see, one day your little cherub could be a gummy, laughing bundle of joy and the next she will take the form of the secret love child of Damian from the Omen and Linda Blair from the Exorcist.  Within hours this beast could have vanished once more only to reappear an random times over the course of anything up to three years. 

I feel for both parties in this situation.  I've been on the other side of wall to noisy neighbours and I've also been the frazzled, powerless parent to an inconsolable child in the middle of the night.  It's nerve-shattering on both counts. 

My biggest objection to this kind of note is that if the Sleep Thief had been a 6'4" drunken Footballer or a mass of Spring Break youngsters or even a very amorous couple, I imagine the writers would have been on the phone to the hotel reception immediately.  They would never have left a note for those people and they certainly would not have waited 2 days/nights to make a complaint.   But because the perpetrator was a small baby being looked after by some desperate, tired, possibly tearful parents then BAM! Hit them where it hurts.  Something they can look at whenever they need to just to remind themselves what crap parents they really are.  

Don't misunderstand me. There are places that you simply should not take your baby - in my opinion.  Places like bars and pubs that do not welcome children particularly in the evening, cinemas (unless it's a baby friendly showing), theatres and adult-only hotels.  If you take a child to one of those places and it screams it's head off then please don't be offended when you are asked to leave .   However, as far as I am concerned, if somewhere is a public place and does not specify 'no children' then it's fair game.  Particularly in a family-friendly hotel. 

The notion that, as parents, you should not take your child ANYWHERE if there is the remotest chance it could cry or make some other noise (laugh, maybe?) is ludicrous.  I refer back to my previous posting about it becoming acceptable to berate parents for noisy children but nobody will ask the annoying cretin on the train to stop yelling down his phone or to turn down his music or refrain from picking his nose etc.  

Clearly parents and children should only be together in the privacy of their own homes and never leave that place unless the child is sedated, bound or gagged. 

But to be honest, the thing that actually floored me was the response to this guy's blog posting.   I haven't read all the comments but generally there seems to be a huge rally of people suggesting this guy is an arsehole for thinking the note was wrong and that the people who wrote the note had a point.  And that's possibly the least offensive way I could describe it.  I am stunned, genuinely stunned. 

1.  If you are an adult, then you were once a child. 

2.  If you were a child then you were [at least] once very annoying to someone other than a family member.

3. If you have children and your children didn't upset or annoy anyone other than yourself, ever, then you are either a) lying b) deluded c) someone who boarded their children in their rooms until they were 18. 

4.  If you don't have children then can you be sure that you have never made a nuisance of yourself to anyone else in public?  ie: never been drunk in a public place, shouted at a friend or lover in public, used bad language language loudly on a train or in a restaurant, walked home late at night in a built-up area and not been as quiet as you could have been, never had a party even though your neighbours were sleeping, revved your car very early in the morning... the list is endless.  If you've never done any of those things then you are either a) lying b) deluded 3) were one of the kids who was boarded in their room until they were 18 and are now too scared to breathe. 

5.  If you never want to be bothered by children or anyone else for that matter in public, might I suggest that you never leave the safety and sanctity of your own house.  Just a thought. 

Most parents (and yes, I use the term 'most') are more than aware that their little darlings can be irritating as hell and will go out of their way to avoid upsetting people but having a child does not mean you don't go out or go on holiday or shop or take public transport or eat out.   And we  will continue to go about our daily lives in much the same way as your parents did when you were annoying, irritating and noisy little ankle biters.  

If you promise you won't argue with someone outside my house late at night, or get drunk in the daytime and fall into the path of my pushchair, or have sex loudly in the hotel room next door to mine (yes I'm talking about you, you weird, noisy couple in San Francisco in May 2011) then I will promise not to take my child into an inappropriate place and bother you. 

Proud mummy!?

Boychild is a bit bright.  Well actually, he's very bright. 

There I've said it. The world didn't implode, nobody died and nobody is any worse off now it's out there.

All children make their parents proud and there is no better feeling (when you're a parent, that is) than when your little one reaches a milestone, be it walking, talking, becoming potty-trained etc.   And, as parents, we do like to share these little titbits especially with our peers.  It's not meant as one-up-manship or belittling their own offspring's efforts if they have not yet achieved them, it's just our way of being proud.  

I've always been cautious and tried not to be a baby bore but yes, I did announce 'we have a walker!' on Facebook at the appropriate time.  But generally if a reference is made to Boychild's abilities it's usually because it's part of an amusing anecdote rather than being the focus.  For example, I recently posted something on Facebook about him not quite 'getting' the Christmas thing as even into January he is insisting on eating from a Christmas bowl, keeps singing Christmas songs and looking up our chimney to try to find Santa.  A friend of mine posted that her child won't even say 'mummy' yet, let alone sing a song! Her son was born on the same day as mine.   So what did i do?  I dumbed down my comment and suggested that he wasn't exactly Robbie Williams just yet (he's really not!) but as a mum you can understand the jumbled words that come out of your own child's mouth more than anyone else. And I'd deciphered 'santa', 'chimney', toys' so knew what he was trying to sing.  

The one who makes me laugh every day. 

What I failed to mention was that if I sang along with him, he interjected those words in the correct places and la-la-la'd along in all the places he didn't know the words. 

I know that my friend will not be concerned that my son can do this when hers can't (she's a pretty clued up kinda gal) especially as she already has an older son, so she knows the score.  She also knows that her little boy had a beautiful shock of hair and mouthful of teeth before I had even worked out what teething powder and baby shampoo was even for.  He was pretty advanced on that score and, even now, Boychild isn't blessed in the teeth department!  But other readers would be looking and judging and making assumptions about both of our children - good and bad.  And probably making assumptions on our parenting styles too.  But they would never say, oh no. (snigger) 


But I have to have some kind of output for my happiness that my son is a mini-genius (okay, perhaps that is a little exaggerated...). He's just 20 months old and knows all his colours, can count from 1 - 12 depending on who he's with and whether he can be bothered, he feeds himself (unless he's being lazy), chats away to his toys (coherently), makes himself understood about what he wants when he asks a question, understands that people he can't see do still exist and where they are at that time (quite a massive concept for a small child), can form pretty good sentences and is well on the way to understanding consequences.  He also recognises emotions and tells us when someone is happy or sad, and then tries to comfort the person or toy in question.  He understands jokes and misdirection. He understands the concept of sharing and tries to share his food with us and his toys.   Things that often children don't understand or can't do until the age of 2, 3 or 4. 

I knew most of this , but the rest (especially the 1 - 12 counting) was told to me by his key worker at nursery last night at parents evening.   Boychild adores CF, his key worker, and it's clear that she adores him too.  He talks about her when he's at home and she will often attempt to have her day off on a day Boychild isn't at the nursery.   But, even if she's not there, he is still perfectly happy to go to any other carer and then comes home talking about them too. 

I am immensely proud of my little munchkin and I love him enormously but the fact he can do these things has made our life a little different to many of my friends with children of a similar age.  We've struggled to travel much or eat out (or shop!) as he is difficult to keep entertained when confined to a chair. He was a terrible sleeper for over a year and responded to none of the tried and tested tricks - even the Health Visitor was at a loss. 

He will seldom just sit on your lap  - not even when he was 4 months old.  He wanted to be on the floor to roll about and explore his toys.  

At first, this upset me.  I felt like the odd one out and whenever I went for coffee with other new mums, I was always the one standing and jigging about entertaining a newborn whilst the others slept for HOURS in their prams or on their mother's laps.   I was the one on my knees with exhaustion when, even at 12 months old, he needed attention several times a night for no reason other than to say 'hello'.  I was the one feeling jealous of mothers going shopping as their tiny babies slept peacefully, waking only for a feed and cuddle as I watched on with a screaming child who settled only if you kept walking and never stopped to browse or make a purchase. To the point of me failing to even try after 3 solid months of hell. Bring on grocery deliveries and online shopping!

As time has gone on, I do know of one or two other parents with children who became more like mine when they hit walking and talking age and that makes me feel better.  To be honest, my biggest fear is being able to keep him entertained and stimulated enough as he gets older.  But I'm sure it won't come to that. 

I also know that the children who haven't reached the same milestones yet, will do so very soon.  There is no right or wrong.  All toddlers are different - thank goodness! - and at what point they speak or count or walk will not matter a jot in the future.  They all level out eventually and I'm sure that by the time they hit school age, none of us will be able to tell who did what first. Likewise, if we have a second child, I'm sure that he or she will be more in line with regular expectations and that will probably confuse me all the more as I'll have to learn to deal with a whole new set of challenges.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that unfortunately I see myself dumbing down and belittling Boychild's achievements and efforts to avoid upsetting or worrying my friends because he can do something that their child cannot. I know there will be camps of people who think that we've been drilling our little darling at maths and english and lord knows what else, but we really haven't.  All we do is what most people do.  We play with him and we talk to him. He watches TV, he builds with blocks, he pushes his cars and trains around, pretends to make us a cup of tea, talks to his soft toys and calls them his friends and he looks at his books and we read to him.  All the stuff that most children will do most of the time.  I guess having a father who is a bit of a boff probably helps too though!  Clearly he's not getting this from his mother.

Anyway, I just want to say somewhere (here) that I am unbelievably proud of him  and I love him more than life itself.  He makes me laugh every single day. 

I am also thrilled and excited when you share your news that your little darling learnt to crawl today and that your munchkin said 'Daddy' and fed herself or successfully used the potty.  I want to share your excitement too as all kids are amazing in their own way. 

But for now I will keep my 'boasting' on here and not on Facebook or Twitter or Instagram as I know I will be labelled a pushy parent or someone who just wants to gloat.  I know that's not the case and most of my friends know that's not true, but we all know that once you get on social media there are plenty of people who like to stick their oar in.

Katie Hopkins - does it really matter?

After reading yet another scathing attack on mothers, of various varieties but predominantly ones that do not work (and get paid for it, as opposed to the work they do at home with the kids), I was about to launch into another round of Katie Hopkins bashing but then stopped myself.

Why?

Because, let's face it, in the real world - a world far, far away from the one Ms Hopkins inhabits - she doesn't matter and it doesn't matter.

She has some kind of ritual dislike of anyone weighing more than 8 stone and makes the assumption that if you are overweight you obviously smoke too and probably feed your children turkey twizzlers and lard for breakfast.  Likewise if you dare to recycle in any way, you clearly are a hippy who doesn't use deodorant, and washes your hair in rain water.  You probably aren't either of these types, but maybe you have traits of one or both of them.  But my point is ...SO WHAT!  

I don't agree with her views and I have quite a few of my own that other people may not agree with, however it's unlikely I'll ever be invited on Phil & Holly to row with Peaches Geldof about them (if the truth be told, I'd probably be on Peaches' side anyway).

Being a mum is a tough job.  Always has been and always will be. Our mothers and grandmothers may not have had so many mod cons to help them but then they also didn't have domestic energy bills that Solomon would have struggled to pay.  Chances are, our children will have a different set of issues to contend with, along with the standard 'terrible twos', sibling rivalry, food battles and sleep thieving.   And however they choose to take those battles on, there will always be a Katie Hopkins waiting in the wings to tell them they are doing it wrong.

We just need to learn to let it wash over us and stop telling ourselves that we should listen or take notice or be angry or frustrated.  Life is too short and on the whole, mums of every kind are doing an okay job.  Their charges are fed, clothed, educated, kept safe and, most importantly, loved.  Yes, they may not have had a proper face wash last night, and Saturday's tea might have consisted of a frozen pizza but the last time I looked, that never did anyone any harm. 

She doesn't matter and it doesn't matter. 

Let the judgement begin...

Something occurred to me recently, whilst attempting to calm Boychild down enough to eat dinner - we dared to schedule it 90 seconds into an episode of 'Timmy Time'.

We, as parents, are constantly bombarded with disapproving looks, comments and rolled eyes on trains, in coffee shops, in restaurants and in shops, for the crime of having a child who has decided to choose that moment to throw a tantrum within eye/earshot of a childless person.  If that wasn't enough, we then have to put up with endless online comments on how bad we are as parents to put up with that kind of behaviour and 'allowing' our offspring to ruin the atmosphere and quiet for everyone. 

So what do we do?  We find a way to hush them as quickly as possible.  We couldn't possibly upset the chap working from his 'office' in Costa Coffee or the lemon-sucking-faced couple with the perfect [read 'boring'] toddlers sitting reading Price and Prejudice on the 12.34 to London Bridge.  Anyway, I digress, we are hushing them up...And how do we do that exactly?  Usually in the way that we try to avoid most of the time - bribery.  Generally in the form of food, or more specifically, the food you don't really want them to have too much of.   Or else giving back the toy you had just taken away as they had thrown it on the floor in a temper far too many times.

In doing so, we are doing the things we don't agree with and would never do at any other time.   It goes against how we usually discipline and try to bring up our children.

So what am I saying exactly? Do you think the judgemental childless people in these establishments realise what they are doing?  Rather than helping to mould these kids they are, in effect, telling them they are likely to be rewarded for being a pain in the arse. They are helping to turn them into the little brats that we have been trying to prevent.  I'm not saying anyone should have to listen to a screaming child in a public place unnecessarily but, when dealt with correctly, tantrums rarely last that long. And believe me, if it looks as though one is about to go on too long, most parents WANT to vacate the area so won't subject others to it for longer than they have to.  But if we don't let them tantrum it out from time to time, they will learn to use their tantrums as a bargaining chip.

I'm also not saying that parents can offload the blame onto others either but just think about it... When that child screeches or even has the audacity to cry because it is simply a newborn and that it's what they do, do you think the parent wants to listen to it too? Do you think they have become immune?

NO!! They are embarrassed, often very tired, and acutely aware of how irritating their child or baby is being. At the point when said child is reaching their peak, if you look closely you will see other parents casting sympathetic looks across the coffee shop. And in the case of a new mother alone with her small crying bundle you may also see the beginning of tears.

There are plenty of annoying people in public most of the time but nobody would dream of picking on the fat bloke obstructing the pavement or aisle, nor would you confront the girl playing crap music from her phone or the commuter who refuses to switch off the annoying key tones whilst texting, so why is it fair game to tut loudly and comment loudly to parents who, most of the time, are doing the best they can?

 Perhaps all those Katy-Hopkins-a-likes out there should start looking inside their own glasshouses before trying to throw stones into other people's. 

Happy new year!

So it's that time again. Last turkey butty finished and decs back in the loft.  It's been an odd Christmas.  Five days of my father in law (enough to tip Mother Theresa over the edge) and a one year old who thinks sleep is for wimps and that's before cooking for 8 on Christmas day. 

But all the knackeredness aside, one thing that has consistently made me smile is my one year old's new found appreciation of music.

He's always liked singing (us not him)  but in the last couple of weeks everything changed. From starting to sing the odd word along to the Christmas song in the car to asking for a particular CD to be played so he can sing and dance along.   It seems that he also can't play with building blocks without singing either, every round of duplo is accompanied by some random lalala-ing. Brilliant to watch.

I won't lie, I'm a bit  of a soft sap. But there is something wonderful about dancing your little one around while he adds the 'shooby-dos' to Robbie singing 'I'm the king of the swingers' and I did well up a little when he wanted me to  dance with him as we watched some 'greatest dance moments' on TV on new year's eve as he tried to copy Thriller (hysterical!).  I'm pretty sure he's dancing or asking for the radio on every half hour. And the singing is getting more coherant and the dancing even wilder every time. He is amazing and it makes him so happy.

I know the old phrase 'dance like nobody's watching' gets thrown around a lot but that's the lovely thing about toddlers... They don't care who is watching and it only adds to the excitement and fun if someone is.  So that's my resolution sorted for this year. Dance more, smile more and worry less. Sometimes toddlers are smarter than we give them credit for.

Night out sabotage

Before I start, I will openly admit that I am a lucky mum.  Almost every Tuesday evening my parents collect Boychild from nursery and have him sleepover with them whilst they look after him the next day.  It saves them getting up at the crack of dawn to come to my house to look after him every Wednesday morning.  This, in itself, is a massive luxury and I'm sure that there are many envious parents out there.  However my parents are, pretty much, our only babysitters so unless we take full advantage of them on a Tuesday then Husb and I would never leave the house together between the hours of 7pm and 7am.  I think the last time we did was 6 months ago for my own 40th birthday party. 

BUT, over the last 2 months we have managed to take advantage of this weekly reprieve maybe twice - tonight being one of them - as I swear there is a higher power looking down laughing and deliberately trying to sabotage date night.  In fact whenever there is a chance for us to spend time together, something has to happen.

The most recent highlight was 3 weeks ago. It was Husb's birthday.  We had both booked Monday off work to enjoy a lovely day shopping, lunching and going to the cinema whilst Boychild was looked after by his nursery.  But no.  On Saturday Boychild didn't sleep well.  On Sunday, at exactly the moment we arrived at a 2 year old's birthday party, he turned into limpet child and clung to me tearfully whilst barely keeping himself awake.  He didn't want food or music or games.  By the time we got home he swung between inconsolable and pretty unresponsive.  Finally we managed to get him to drink some milk... he promptly threw it back up all over his father.   NHS direct suggested a trip to A&E  - brilliant.  So we spent 3 hours in a germ-ridden, fluorescent-lit torture chamber to be told he just had a virus and he wasn't dehydrated  but to keep an eye on him and let him eat whatever he wants even if it is chocolate hob-nobs.

Well, we could hardly send him to nursery the following morning could we?  So we spent the day letting him eat what he wanted, watch what he wanted on CBeebies and nap when he wanted, whilst we bummed around at home (secretly quite enjoying the no stress family time) .  But alas, no lunch, no cinema and no unaccompanied shopping.

The following night (a Tuesday...) we planned to go for a curry with friends to celebrate Husb's birthday.  Before we left, I put the bins out (important point, not just an aside).  Two hours later, I was sitting in the restaurant pushing my fist into my back to try to unknot the muscle torturing me.  As I stood up to leave the restaurant I realised I could barely walk and was having trouble breathing!

A visit to the docs the following day, after a sleepless night and taking half an hour just to roll over in bed, informed me that, not only did I have muscle strain, but it had caused a bout of pleurisy! I ONLY PUT THE BINS OUT!!  Am I really that weak and pathetic?

A week later, I could finally walk to the end of the road and back without laboured breathing.

This is just the tip of the iceberg.  If either of us is due a stomach bug, urgent work deadline, family crisis (delete as applicable) it will always happen on a Tuesday evening. I can guarantee it.

I am due to meet Husb and several friends in a pub near Waterloo in an hour.  I am still waiting for the phone to go and someone to tell me Boychild has chicken pox or that we have been burgled, or the pipes have burst.  I am almost frightened to go brush my hair and change my boots.  

Wish me luck! 

When does the crying stop?

No, not my son's crying ... my own.

I have always been a 'bit of a sensitive soul' - not that I'd ever admit it.  I managed to hide my cinema-sobbing from my hubby quite well for at least the first 3 years of our relationship and a well-timed 'scoff', poking fun at the corny romance of a film served me well on many an occasion to mask my impending tears!

Then came the hormones.  Not the pretend hormones that creep up every few weeks, I'm talking about the full-on Rambo hormones that descend in early pregnancy and disappear around...well, I'm not too sure when they disappear. At this rate I think they will be putting me in my box before they finally leave.   These Super-Hormones make it impossible for you learn any sad news without blubbing like a toddler who's had his teddy taken away. 

This week, I was privileged to attend a private screening of a new film due to be released in the Autumn.  Philomena, featuring Dame Judi Dench and Steve Coogan.  I think I was barely 10 minutes into the film before I was silently wiping my face and chin.  This continued during regular intervals throughout the course of the film. On this occasion though, I would defy anyone not be moved by parts of this story - based on true events.  A young woman in Ireland gives birth to her illegitimate son without proper medical intervention and then has him taken away from her as a toddler so he can be 'sold' and adopted by a wealthy family.  The film tells of her 50 year silence, covering up her 'dirty little secret' until she finally has to find out what became of him.

It is a wonderful film but it's difficult to say that I enjoyed it because, in reality, it broke my heart.  The cruelty and ignorance of a bunch of nuns (don't get me started on organised religion...) and the damning of innocent young women by society makes my blood boil.  

I know that if I had watched it 3 years ago in the days Before Boychild, I would have had a little sob, but watching it now I was reduced to a snivelling wreck!  The thought of anyone taking my son away and giving me no information on his whereabouts or well-being would probably kill me.  I only have to think about the film and it brings tears to my eyes.

As a younger woman, my own mum and many others would tell me how, as a mother, you would lay down your own life for your child without a second thought.  I'll be honest, I always thought they were being slightly melodramatic.  But it's true.  I don't think there is anything I wouldn't do in order to keep Boychild safe. 

Anyway, I digress.  Even as I write this, my cousin has posted a picture on Facebook of the newly erected headstone at her sister's grave.  She died aged 34, leaving two children who are still only at primary school. I took one glance and I'm already off.  

Basically, I have to accept that I will be emotionally crippled forever.  I can't even read a book to my son without getting a little teary sometimes.  A few weeks ago he leaned in and gave me a sloppy wet kiss for the first time and it was completely spontaneous and unprompted.  I cried.  Somebody on Facebook recently implied I was 'abandoning my son to strangers' by leaving him at nursery to come to work and I was almost rendered inconsolable (followed by an overwhelming desire to punch them in the face).

It looks like I will have to spend the rest of my life travelling with a big box of tissues and wearing waterproof mascara.  And I don't care.  I guess that's what unconditional love does to you. 

Sad times

Today I had to turn the news off before I left home and stop reading the paper on the train all because of the story about  Daniel Pelka, the little boy tortured and eventually killed by his mother and her partner.  I turned it off not because I didn't want to hear about it but purely because I couldn't get myself in a state before leaving for work, nor could I sit on the train crying.

I have always struggled to understand how anyone could abuse or torture a child but since having a son of my own I am at a complete loss as to what the motivation is for prolonged abuse.  Yes, children are challenging.  Yes, they are frustrating and sometimes they will push you to limits you can only imagine.  But their innocence and unconditional trust in you is enough to (usually) melt the hardest of hearts.  And if it doesn't, feeling their arms around your neck whilst giving you a sloppy kiss will.

You often read stories of mothers with chronic depression and mental illness who ‘snap’ and kill themselves and their children, or about a parent at the end of their tether who lashes out a child and hits them.  It might sound strange but I can see how that happens. Mental illness, sleep deprivation, lack of support and desperation can lead people to do very strange things and it’s very sad when something like that happens.  But this story is on a whole new level that leaves me feeling sick.

At his death, this 4 year old child weighed 21lbs.  1½ stone.    My son is 14 months old and weighs the same.  And he is deemed to be quite small for his age.  Let’s just think about that for a minute.  A 4 year old weighed the same as a small toddler.

I’m sure there will be recriminations flying about all over the place now blaming teachers and social services but let’s not forget, it wasn’t them who inflicted the injuries on this child.  It was his biological mother and her partner.  Every article I have read details how he was locked in a cold room with no food, no access to the toilet and no contact with anyone else.  He was held under the water in his bath until he passed out.  He was force fed salt.  He was sent to school with almost no lunch and was found by teachers trying to eat from the bins, stealing from other kids’ lunchboxes and picking up food from dirty floors.  Teachers repeatedly flagged up concerns over his welfare, his continuing weight loss and appearance.  But what powers do they have?  None.  They can only follow procedures and report it to authorities and try to speak to the child’s parents.

Two things strike me about this story.  Firstly, how can a mother do that to her own son?  I understand that often women are frightened of a violent partner fearing for their own safety too.  However there is every indication that she was a willing participant in this exhausting torrent of abuse this child suffered.  Maybe I don’t have all the facts but I’m struggling to believe she is nothing other than guilty – as was confirmed by a jury this week.

Secondly, how was he left to suffer this by the social services.  How could someone think that an emaciated child is happy and healthy?  And if The Telegraph has its facts straight, a doctor deemed him underweight but nothing more 3 weeks before his death.  I hope that doctor can sleep at night.

If this was an isolated incident, it would be a very sad story and we would hope that nothing like this would ever be allowed to happen again. But it’s not.  I’m sure everyone remembers Baby P who died in 2007 after a similar experience.  That child was less than 18 months old.    Today I also found a story about a couple in Belgium who repeatedly abused their children for years.  I can’t even write about some of the things these children endured. 

read more about it here.

I don't know what the answer is, but for now I am just glad this beautiful little boy is in a much happier place.   And I hope it is a very long time before I have to stop reading a newspaper on the train again. 

The rise of the Trolls...

I love the internet.  I really do.  I only wish it had been around when I was at school.  I can't believe I spent so many hours in our local library researching and scribbling and adding to my bibliography at the end of every assignment.

But that's not really what I want to say.  On the whole, I think the internet is amazing.  And not just for the fun stuff.  Of course, with every good thing there inevitably comes bad.  Yes there are sick people who like to use the internet for heinous acts but, thankfully, they are the minority.

The internet users that worry me and make me most sad are the 'Trolls'.  

I am a firm believer in not putting in an email something you wouldn't say in a telephone conversation and that should apply to comments and opinions made on the internet.  Unless your life, or the lives of your nearest and dearest, are in danger, then there is no reason for the complete anonymity some people hide behind just so they can go online to slag off and put down just about everyone else.  If you want to say something or sound your opinion because it's what you believe in then just bloody say it and be proud of it and put your name to it.  Don't hide behind your keyboard.

I am, however, also a believer in the very old fashioned view of 'If you don't have anything good to say then don't say anything at all'.  Although I will admit there are shades of grey with that one.  I like to think that unnecessary cruelty or rudeness should be avoided but if a friend asks me an opinion in a fitting room then I will give it even if it's not what she might want to hear.  I will, however, do it in a diplomatic way.  Cruelty avoided, see?

Like a lot of people, I tend to read a lot of newspaper articles online and I freely admit that it's not always from the publications I would buy. (ahem, The Daily Mail cough cough.  please don't judge me).  If I've googled a story then I will look at a couple of articles on it from various papers. 

i also get sucked in to the stories they run down the side of each article showing Beyonce out with her baby, or the Eastender caught in a bikini on holiday - you know the kind of thing.  But what amazes me are the comments that other readers put at the bottom of the article.  I love reading them but often I do so with open mouth.  Comments on a divisive political argument or new policy are great and offer so much variety in opinion that I can sometimes be persuaded to look at it in a different way.  But it's the comments on the 'fluff' stories that make me feel upset, sick and amazed.

Do people have so little in their lives that they must find something wrong with every story or every person in that story?  My real pet hate are the people that have to comment on a cute celebrity new baby/wedding/day out story.  Invariably it will read 
'HELLO??  Woman has baby!! This is a story???  Why????'.

Erm.  If you don't want to know about these people or their lives, it's simple. Don't read the article.  Don't browse the celeb section. 

'They called the baby WHAT??? What is wrong with them?  Poor kid.'
Is it  your child?  What's it got to do with you? 

Those are quite tame, I will admit.  But then you get the really unnecessary ones.
'Lost her baby weight?! Ha, in her dreams.  Still looks like a fat pig.  She shouldn't be out in public looking like that.'
Hmmm, I hope you're a perfect specimen.

' F*****g cretin!  I hope he dies in a horrible accident'
Nice.

The list goes on and on and gets worse and worse.  I stumbled upon a fluffy article today about a woman in Yorkshire (I think), who went into labour and gave birth during her own baby-shower.  No great breaking news, but quite a sweet story accompanied with a schmaltzy shot of woman with baby and her baby-shower friends.  It won't change my life but it was a nice feel-good piece.
Every single comment (yes I checked) was having a go at her/the situation because she had a baby shower.   Comments about this not being America and how it was just an excuse to freeload from your friends and so on and so on.  Some comments were downright offensive.  

What is your problem people?! Were you asked to come along and contribute? Nope, didn't think so.  Does it affect you in any way, shape or form?  No.  So get over yourself.  Live your life in your way and let other people enjoy theirs in their way. 

These are all quite tame examples really if you think about it.  I won't even go into the children and young people who are depressed and, sometimes worse, committing suicide due to internet bullies. It's heartbreaking and so unnecessary.  I don't know what the answer it, does anyone really?  But all I hope is that eventually the novelty will wear off and we can start being nicer to people.   Hmmmm, meanwhile back in the real world...

Summer holiday sadness?

Today it was reported that Michael Gove announced that from September 2015, schools could be given the freedom to decide their own school holidays.

In principal, this is perhaps not such a daft idea.  

On paper.  

In reality, this is likely to cause complete chaos to an awful lot of the population - be them parents or teachers, or [shock, horror] a teacher who is also a parent!

The 6 weeks holiday argument has raged for years and will keep going forever, I am sure.  And I am both for and against the idea but, in my most humble opinion, the pros do outweigh the cons - and that's coming from someone who is already worrying about what to do with my job when my little boy starts school in 3 years time.

Let's say that everything goes ahead with Mr Gove's plan and schools decide to fix their own holidays. What could  happen?

-  two siblings at different schools with different holiday times.  Neither will release the child for a family holiday in term time.  So parents could now be restricted to only 2 or 3 weeks in the summer when they could take their holiday. Boo hoo you might say, but how flexible is YOUR office/workplace with holidays?  'Not very' is usually the answer.  So, what happens when a large percentage of your workforce needs the same 2 or 3 weeks off in the summer? Think about places like supermarkets and other retail stores - where the majority of their staff are part-time and have a family.  How will that work?

- holiday companies currently like to inflate their rates from mid-July to early September.  But what if summer breaks started earlier at some schools and ended later in others? HOORAY and KERRRR-CHINGG! for the tourism industry.  They can now over-inflate their prices for maybe 10 weeks rather than the paltry 6 .  Think about it...all those smug, childless couples (of which I was one for years)  and pensioners will also now have to pay a small fortune to sit on an overcrowded beach surrounded by kiddiwinkies too if they dare to want a holiday between June and October!

- then there is the childcare issue.  Yes, it is everybody's individual choice to have a child.  So it is everyone's individual responsibility to arrange and pay for our of school childcare.  Fine when everyone has the same holiday time - give or take a few days - and holiday clubs can run and childminders know when they have spaces.  But what happens when this period is extended by a couple of weeks at either end?  This will affect the premises they can rent for their clubs - most use school facilities.  The infrastructure has been in place, and building, for a number of years to help families during the school holidays and now Mr Gove would like to make it more difficult yet again.

- I thought this government wanted to get people back to work wherever possible?  They are already losing out on millions of women's earning potential because of childcare restrictions   So why are they now trying to make it even more difficult?  This could actually force one parent out of the workforce.

- Teachers who are parents.  Where does this leave them?  Their  school closes at a different time to their offspring's.  Will the government suddenly give them the flexibility to take their holiday during termtime to cover it?  Nope, thought not. 

And that is not even getting into the 'touchy feely' list of reasons why the straight 6 week holiday should stay. 
Children should be allowed to be children for at least a few years.  Society has been trying to make children grow older beyond their years for a while now and it's ridiculous.  Children need to play in order to grow and learn. Trying to turn us all into Tiger Mums and making them sit in a regimented fashion and learn for longer hours will not produce a balanced cross section of society.

And teachers.  What about them?  Most of my teaching friends spend evenings planning lessons and marking work and writing reports and making wallcharts and decorating their classrooms and trying to meet government targets and.. and... and... the list goes on. yes, they may well finish teaching at 3.30pm but they don't just 'clock off'.  And they can't just 'chuck a sickie' when they feel like it.  Or bugger off for a long weekend if they feel like it - unlike a lot of the population.

Most of my friends are usually back in the classroom in the final week of the summer holidays making the necessary preparations for the new term.  A lot of them spend the first week of the holidays in the classroom too - taking down the decorations and work displays. 

Mr Gove probably went to a private school like a lot of his government peers and actually I don't have an issue with that.  Each to their own, live and let live and all that.  Personally, I would rather have educated people leading the country rather than a white-van-man with a CSE* in Technical Drawing trying to decide economic policy.   What I object to, are these educated people not having a sense of perspective; not having any idea of how most of the population have to live.  That's what irks me. 
[*showing my age here.  Most people reading this probably won't have a clue what a CSE is and think I have just made a typing error]

For someone who usually does vote Tory (don't hate me, please!) I am hoping that either Gove gets ousted in favour of someone a little more savvy, or that the opposition gets in and cancels these plans.  I won't hold my breath though, so far the Labour party haven't shown any signs of withdrawing most of the Tory plans and cuts.

Hey ho.   

How things change

I've had a pretty trying weekend.  Father-in-law came to stay for 4 days and it was hard work ((c) understatement of the century). But that's a whole other story.

But during this strange, surreal nightmare I had a tiny little moment of peace and serenity and it was my favourite part of the whole weekend.  At 4am today I woke up and I could hear Boychild chatting away to himself quietly.  Quite happily and contentedly, but he was awake nonetheless.

I went in to give him his dummy and get him back to sleep.  He was on all fours and looked up at me with a big innocent smile, leaned back on his haunches and put his arms up.  So I picked him up and he immediately flopped down on my shoulder with his arms round my neck and started stroking my hair.   I let him slide down so I was cradling him like a little baby and spent 10 minutes just rocking him and watching him snooze.  

I can't remember the last time I've done that when he was so peaceful (usually it's because he's not well or is teething) and it was beautiful.  

I'm sure being up at 4am like that isn't everyone's idea of a good time and a few years ago I'm sure it would not have been mine either, but I guess times change.  Happy mummy. 

Mummy Crushes

Having never been a stranger to 'weird crushes', I was interested to see who the latest mum crushes are. According to notanothermummyblog.com this is the list 

5 - Aled Jones.   REEEEEEEEAAALLLLY????
Maybe it's because I know people who were at college with him, and I can still see him on the telly aged about 11 but I really don't get this one.  He still looks as though he doesn't need to shave. 

4 - Mr Maker (Phil Gallagher from kids tv for those of you lucky enough not to have to watch that crap) 

Again, has he started shaving yet?

3 - Philip Schofield.   Hmmm.  Difficult to say where I stand on that one.  He was cute when I was 16.  When he became all 'silver fox' he awakened many a lady's lustings, but now... well he's just everywhere and to be honest, I'm beginning to find him a little creepy. Sorry Phil.

2 - Alex from CBeebies

Not to be confused with Alex Winter, ie:'the one who is not Keanu' from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure ... who is showing more than a passing resemblance to Michael Bublé right now... 

At least both of these guys have something about them I could find attractive but I'm still not convinced.

and then .... [drum roll please......] onwards to NUMBER 1

1 - Dr Ranj!!   Hooooooooray!  A real man.  Someone who shaves, someone who does mean and moody and someone who can relate to kids too (although that's not high on my list if it's purely a carnal crush.  oh god, what am i saying, this bloke is a kid's TV presenter... but also a real doctor so he does a brain too.  See, I'm not really shallow at all.)

Single mums - I salute you!

In the last year I have been pretty thankful, on one or two occasions, that I can share the 'burden' of Boychild with Husb but last night I really could not have been more thankful! 

Just before 1am, I was woken by the sobbing of Boychild.  It's pretty unusual for him to wake up at that time and even more unusual for him to sound so inconsolable.  I went in and found him kneeling in his cot covered in, and surrounded by, vomit (tmi - apologies).  He'd clearly thrown-up in his sleep and woken up in it as it was everywhere - in his hair, in his ears and eyes, on his sleeping bag and sleepsuit, the cot bumper and obviously all over the sheet.  

All of a sudden I felt this wash of panic and in a very 'ER' kind of way I yelled to Husb, 'gonna need some help in here!'.  

Thankfully, within an hour of waking, Boychild was sleeping peacefully once more after being stripped, bathed, redressed, read-to and, most importantly, cuddled quite a lot.  In fact, we found that he had left a teddy or two behind in our bed and, between you and me, I quite enjoyed snuggling up to them.

Whilst I really could have done without being on red alert for a whole hour less than 3 hours after falling asleep, it was all over fairly quickly and I was asleep not long after my little man.  But this morning it got me thinking.  The only reason everything went so smoothly and swiftly was because the load was shared between two people.   I stripped Boychild whilst Hubby ran the bath and then Hubby bathed him whilst I stripped the bed, cleaned it, remade it and found some clean nightwear.  I took the still sobbing munchkin and cuddled him dry as Husb emptied the bath and tidied the bathroom and then I loaded the washing machine and found a clean cuddly toy to take to bed while Husb dressed him.  All within about half an hour.

A full recovery seemed to have taken place by now and the previously sobbing child was now playing jumping games on the marital bed and trying to comb my hair (which basically involved bashing me on the head with the comb).  So we found some books, tucked him in the middle of us and let him 'read' for ten minutes, then bundled him up and took him back to his own bed and popped him down.  Within another few minutes he was snoring and stayed like that til morning.

What if Husb had been out/away on business/a total git who didn't get involved with his own child?  Surely this is the kind of situation a single mum has to deal with on a daily basis?  Don't misunderstand me, I have had to sort out Boychild alone when he's been ill in the past, but that was in the middle of the day, I was wide awake and we hadn't just moved, so I knew exactly where to find everything really quickly! 

Basically what I'm trying to say is 'mucho respect' to all the single mums out there - whatever the reason for your situation, you have a damn hard job and I salute you.