Archive for July, 2009

Brave Little Soldier.

We were having a lovely morning, the little dude & I.

He treated me to a 7.15 lay in (that’s 3 in a row people, yay!), we had our usual post-breakfast chat & singsong, and then he went down totally fuss-free for what’s become affectionately known as ‘the jeremy kyle nap’ (because it coincides with Mr K’s shameless parading of many unfortunates, which i never ever used to dream of watching, but since maternity leave started, has been slowly weaseling it’s way into my daily routine. oops.)

While my little man was in the land of nod, I checked emails, caught up with my google reader, found that I’d won a competition!! (excitement – I never win things!), and replied to texts. One of which, was from my friend S, to say yes, we are free for lunch with her & her little boy Z on Monday, fun stuff.

Before the arrangement details got lost in the candyfloss that is my brain, I grabbed my diary to write them down.

Crap crap crapity crap.
There, in pink capitals (you know, so that I wouldn’t forget!) was:

Note to self: diaries only work if you remember to look inside them occasionally.

At that moment, I kid you not, the heavens opened & the rain fell down.


All that said though, the J – A – B’s weren’t nearly as bad as last time – once again the little dude didn’t even flinch at the first one, but did turn almost purple after the 2nd.
*but* rather than crying all the way home & then falling asleep, this time he was over it before we even left the surgery. Progress helped along largely, by funny bug, his latest favourite toy.

We must never, ever, lose funny bug.

And now? He’s sound asleep, completely oblivious to why there’s a tiny red dot on each leg. And once again, I feel like a big girl for getting myself all worried about nothing. But I already know I’ll do it all again next month. Thank goodness that’ll be the last lot for a while.

And that funny bug will be on hand to help… assuming he hasn’t been usurped by something noisier of crinklier or fuzzier.


Come on Squigler!!

Dancinfairy – this one’s for you!

Your update just popped up on my googlereader, and I figured that as you can access *your* google reader, I would send you some love & luck wishes via the gift of blogger… what an age we live in, huh?!

And, thought you might like to know,you’re practically a trending topic on twitter – everyone is checking up on your Mr’s tweets to see if there’s any news! (poor bloke – but at least you’re working on giving him the best birthday present ever! :D)

So, hope you’re doing okay – not too uncomfortable, and not going too loopy through boredom!!

Hope everything goes quickly & smoothly & that you’ll be gazing in wonder at your little squigler before you know it 😀

Sending you bunches of good thoughts and hugs – and good luck!! xxx

Wordless Wednesday: I ♥ my boys :)

p.s. theres a giveaway over at my other bog 🙂

happy wednesday!
(visit wordless wednesday for more great photos.)

To sleep, perchance to dream…

I saw a briliant rubberstamp yesterday while I was spending money I shouldn’t be idly browsing my favourite craft shops online…

“People who say they sleep like a baby, generally don’t have one.”

It made me giggle.

But, at the risk of sounding ridiculously smug & probably jinxing myself big time, I’m actually pretty lucky in that department. The little dude generally drifts off at about 8ish, has a sleepy feed at 11.30ish, then *usually* goes through to around 6am (which to be honest, is a little earlier than I generally like to get up, but I suppose I shouldn’t complain!!) – not too bad for a 3 month old!

What I don’t get though, is my inability to last on minimum sleep rations.

Back in the day, I was quite a party girl!
At college, I’d go clubbing til the early hours & still make morning lectures, at least 3 times a week – I’d pull all nighters to get coursework in on time, not a problem, I’d be out again over the weekend & still hold down a weekend job – easy!

And even more recently pre-baby, my colleagues at work were always amazed at how fresh-faced I looked on a Friday morning after a weekly Thursday night karaoke-a-thon til 1am – and that was when a night out included more than one or two cocktails!!

Now, I barely drink, am pretty much always in bed just after midnight, and yet still find myself giving sleepy the dwarf a run for his money in the yawning stakes by teatime! Definitely need to work at the baby stamina – he’ll be crawling before long, I’ll spend all day chasing him round the house, and then I’ll really be shattered! 😛

Speaking of sleep – have you checked out the contest over at cafebebe? If not, do! It’s a great prize, sponsored by pampers, and while you’re there – have a poke around the site, it’s fabulous 🙂
I’m going to enter a picture of my sleepy little man.. I know, I know, mushy new mummy taking photos of the snoozy baby, but really – how cute? very 😀

sweet dreams dear readers! x

Proper little mummy…

As a rule, I hate stereotypes, of any kind.
But now that I’m a mummy, there are a few I actually quite like.

Let me explain…

We’re going to a party tomorrow – my friend’s little girl is one, it’ll be the little dude’s first party – exciting 😀

So today, we went to town to buy a present (cute denim dress, a hand puppet, and a gorgeous touchy-feeley book), and when we got back, I wrapped it all up, and finished off the birthday card I’d been making (which you can see on my crafty blog if you like).

My friend had asked if the grown up guests could bring an offering for the buffet, so I whipped up a batch of cupcakes and left them to cool. (My baking skills are limited, but I make YUMMY cupcakes.)

Then, I went to make dinner (veggie lasagne incase you’re curious!), and while that was cooking, I iced the cupcakes, voila:

I went back into the lounge where Daddy & Little Dude were engrossed in the very hungry caterpillar, and put the tin of cakes next to the birthday girl’s present & card. Chatting to myself, I was all
…presents wrapped? check. card written? check. cakes done? check. dinner in the oven? check…
(yes, slight obsessive compulsive tendancies at work there, it keeps me sane :P)

and that’s when the daddy (having finished telling LD all about the very hungry caterpillar) said,
“aww, look at you, you’re a proper little mummy! :D”

And d’you know what? I think I am. And I think I like it.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ll never let myself become nothing but ‘the little woman’, the daddy will *always* be expected to do his share, and the feisty opinionated chick with the passions for loud music & heated debate will always be part of me, but I guess there’s a little domestic goddess in there too, and that’s not such a bad thing 😀

Rebel with a baby – I mean cause.

I have come to the conclusion, that I’m a rebel mummy. Yep, I am.

When I got pregnant, I read a stupid amount – books, websites, articles, leaflets from the midwife – everything I could lay my hands on.
I was going to be the best read, best prepared, most perfect mummy EVER.


Having had a real life baby for a little more than three months (rather than the little text book version who feeds 3 hourly on the dot, naps with military precision and never ever cries for more than a few minutes {really, Gina Ford, really?!}), I know now, that pregnancy books should be viewed as a rough guide. A jumping off point to start negotiations if you will.

Here are just a few of the mummy rules I’ve already broken…

Do not mix breast & bottle in the first months. Check.

If breastfeeding, do not offer baby a dummy in the first months. Ooops. (I was not prepared for the 40 minute cry-a-thon on day 4, having slept for about 6 hours since the little dude’s birth – so the dummy that came free with our steriliser was an absolute godsend. I am glad though that the noodle only uses it for maybe 5 minutes while he’s settling down to sleep.)

Use Controlled Crying – nope. Tried it once, felt like the worst mummy ever, not doing it again.

Make a bath part of baby’s bedtime routine every night. Much as the little dude quite enjoys a splash in the bath, it’s still a bit of a large scale operation – and frankly far too time consuming for every night. Plus, he’s a baby, apart from the nappy region, he doesn’t get all that dirty. So he generally has a bath 2 or 3 times a week, and gets topped & tailed daily instead.

Mummy should sleep when the baby sleeps. Nice theory, but when am I supposed to take a shower, do laundry… eat?

Don’t let your baby fall asleep in your arms – always put them down awake. This is the one I hate the most. I love cuddling my baby boy, and when he gets sleepy, I love the way he snuggles right into me (especially now he’s learning to cuddle properly – chubby little arms grabbing you tight :D). We settle down on the couch together, I sing him a song, and he soothes himself off to sleep. It’s not all the time, but yes, it’s at least once a day, and yes, I enjoy it. So there. Sorry Ms Ford, we’re just going to have to agree to disagree.
(and he’s still quite happy to settle himself down too, so I’m not making a rod for my own back!)

So does breaking the rules break your baby?
Of course it doesn’t.

My little man is amazing (yes, I know I’m biased, but it’s true!), he hardly ever cries unless he’s hungry or in need of a new nappy, he’s almost sleeping through, learning new things crazy-fast every day, and is definitely not suffering as a result of his mummy making up her own rules!

All the books and what not are all well and good, but they really shouldn’t take over from the most important ruling of all – mummy instincts.

However, for a little light relief, these baby do’s & dont’s are well worth a look – I’m emailing the link to all my pregnant friends 😀

The controversy of boobies!

So as a new mummy, I can’t help but keep up with the mountain of media coverage breast feeding has been attracting lately.

My first thought on the whole thing, is why is it all such a big deal?
Why do so many people who aren’t even mothers, care so much about how those who DO have children, feed them?
(prime example – the breast feeding consultant who ‘helpfully’ manhandled my boobs in hospital, has no children, yet made it her mission to get me lactating like a jersey cow. go figure.)

Secondly, those who apparently find breast feeding in public ‘offensive’ or ‘inappropriate’- what exactly is your problem please?
If you find it so terribly awful, here’s a suggestion: don’t look.
We are not doing it for attention, it’s not a peep show (in my own experience, I’ll use anything available – blankie, bib, babies head – to make sure I’m flashing as little boob as possible!), we’re doing a job. Would you rather a hungry screaming baby interrupt your oh-so-civilised cappuccino & browse through the times? Thought not.

Thirdly, those of you out there who are so fiercely pro-breastfeeding you view formula as the devil’s baby juice & mums who use it as unfit, selfish anti-mothers, how about sparing a though for those who can’t breastfeed?
Oh I know I know, ‘it’s the most natural thing in the world’, ‘breast is best’, blah blah blah, but as with most things in life, sometimes it just doesn’t pan out.

And the last thing a new mum who can’t, or has decided not to breast feed needs, is someone who doesn’t matter judging her decision.

Because ultimately, that’s what it’s all about – each individual mother making her own choice. And it should be an informed choice – as my good friends cafe bebe & OMG Pregnant have been discussing, and it should be respected.

Personally, I always wanted to breastfeed. I didn’t even think about it, just assumed it’d all fall into place.
My birth was traumatic.
Afterwards, I was exhausted, and the little dude was too.
We tried almost immediately, he wasn’t interested.
A little later, the breastfeeding consultant came to visit, poked, prodded, and shoved my boob into the little dude’s face, not happening.
A little later still, he woke up from a nap & I tried myself, he got there. I was full of joy. For about 7 seconds.
Oh my God it hurt.
Nobody had told me ‘the most natural thing in the world’ would make me want to swear like a sailor.
But I persisted. After a week of feeding on demand, often 2 hourly for an hour at a time, my boobs, and me were a mess.
The HV came round to weigh the little man, he had lost 14% of his body weight. I was distraught. I was so disheartened. I felt like a failure.
We had to take him back into hospital, he was weak & listless & just didn’t have the energy to feed.
They gave him some formula through a tube (which utterly broke my heart) & encouraged me to express as much milk as I could, which went down too.
(NB: they lent me an electric breast pump – that did NOT help my painful boobs one bit. Imagine a hoover latched to your nips. Yeah, owch.)
Withing 48 hours, he was back at my boobs.
It was still killing me, but I was so relieved, I grinned & bared it.
The doctor’s guessed that he may have been ‘lazy feeding’, I didn’t care, it all semed to be fixed, we could take him home, I was happy.
A week later, still feeding on demand what felt like a thousand times a day (and night!) the HV weighed him again, he’d put on 3 ounces.
That was my lowest point.
HV suggested topping up with formula after every feed, and after she left, I reluctantly sent the daddy out to get a pot of Aptamil.
I cried for over an hour.
Within another week, we were officially combination-feeding – alternating one boob, one bottle through the day, and just boobs at night.
And we were all SO much happier for it.
The little dude started gaining weight beautifully, my boobs started healing, the daddy stopped having to watch me cry every time I fed.

Breast is best? No, this was much, MUCH better all round.

Now, 3 months on, it’s about half & half. The little dude is happy, healthy & thriving – and seems to be slowly weaning himself off the boobies, which is good,I only ever wanted to breastfeed up until proper-food-weaning, as I personally believe that’s long enough.
(But that’s another story!)
And for the record, my son & I have bonded fantastically despite our bumpy road, so there goes that ridiculous formula = no bond with baby theory.

The best advice I can give to expectant mummies, is go with the flow, and expect the unexpected.
Give it a go, you might be one of the lucky ones – you & your baby will take to it like ducks to water & it’ll be great – but, be prepared to have to work at it, you’re both learning! And, in case it doesn’t go according to plan, have bottle-feeding equipment on hand as a back up plan, and DO NOT beat yourself up about using it.

Those first few weeks are far too precious to waste on a boobs vs. bottles guilt trip – and as long as your little one is full, nourished, and happy, you’re doing a great job, regardless of what you’re using to do it 🙂

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