Monthly Archives: August 2011

Frowns

So, 10 days is now indefinitely.

On one hand I’m super annoyed because as a business there is a duty of care to keep your customers in the loop, partucularly where this is concerned.

However, after a conversation earlier I need to eat a lot of my frustration.  I can’t say too much about it, but the situation is actually pretty horrific.  It is bullying in its purest form, having a knock on effect on a lot of lives.

And there is nothing we can do but wait.

Sigh

First comes love…

Then comes marriage.

Then comes mummy with a baby carriage…

So, our friends who got hitched recently have announced they’ve had a 9 week scan. They’re aware it’s still early days and it’s a second scan, but I have my fingers crossed for them.

She kept posting on facebook about how sick and tired she was so I guess we (or at least I was!) expecting it.

Interestingly enough, the date of conception works out to be their wedding night! Woohoo.

Anyway, I don’t have a lot to say tonight really…so tired!

Happy day to you!

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Urgh

I bet you thought you’d escaped tonight without a post as I’ve been out and haven’t had the chance to catch up on typing up all my notes meaning that my schedule has fallen way behind.

But, alas, there is no escaping.

Ok, I’ll make it a short one.  I just got in and a huge spider ran from under my sofa out into the middle of the living room.  I mean massive.  OHs mum wasn’t dealing with it and I don’t blame her.  It was the size of your hand. So I had to go and get my neightbour to remove it.

I know, I know, I’m a wuss.  I don’t mind them until they start moving and then they make my ears go funny and make me shake.  I hate it.

Anyway, i’m just relieved I didn’t lie down there for a sleep.  I could have woken up with it on my face *shudders*.

I’ll leave you all now with that thought and go do something else somewhere else.

Night!

Double pumping

Last night, I tried double pumping. By that I mean one pump attached to each breast. I’m not sure what the expert term for it is.  Duel pumping, double expression…

Anyway, I have two different types of pump.  One Tommee Tippee manual, and one Avent manual. How I ended up with this combination is perhaps for another day.  Last night I managed a live comparison…

Now, I should explain my methodology as I may have been a little unfair on one pump.

I finished feeding O on my right, which is the boob with greater production. I then put the TT on that side, avent on the left. I swapped them after 1 let down.

I ended up (after two swaps – O woke up!) with 2.5oz in the Avent and 0.5oz in the TT.  I just don’t get on with this pump.  Maybe it’s the phalange, or the way it seems to draw the nipple in to touch the pump or the harder action.  Maybe I don’t set it up quite right, but the TT isn’t the pump for me.  I’m going to continue using it to collect leakage as I would rather it were added to my stash than wasted into a boob pad, but personally, I prefer the action of the Avent.

Ok, so the negatives of evening pumping are that O takes longer on his 2am feed as my flow is slower.  My nips become sore – partly due to the pump, partly due to lazy latch of a tired baby suckling for longer.

The Positives are additions to my stash, and a less choky and windy baby.  The choking and wind seem to be associated to a fast flow when I’m too full.

Right, it’s time for me to go and pump.

Parenting on our estate

I’m not the best mother in the world. In fact, I’m possibly as far from the best mother as you can possibly get and still be outside of Social Services.

I try to get as much help as I can, my kids drive me crazy, sometimes I dislike them. I scream and shout and (rarely) swear at them.  I’m a prime candidate for one of these Supernanny programs where she finds out the problems are all caused by the parent and gets the children to realise that the naughty step is a punishment and not an excuse to sit and giggle inanely.

We live on an ex-council estate which I’m certain I’ve mentioned before.  Some of the houses are still council owned.  The estate doesn’t have the best of reputations, but for the most part, it has cleaned up its act in recent times.  I wouldn’t cross some of the council house dwellers but they’re ok as long as you don’t piss them off.

I was walking to our local supermarket recently when two women and a bloke walked out in front of me.  I don’t want to go into too much detail about their appearance as being pregnant twice has reduced my wardrobe to old t-shirts and house-trousers, plus my face is speckled with hormonal acne. However, if I were PUSHED (and I mean absolutely forced…remember I’m not judging…much!) into a description I would use the term Jeremy Kyle fodder. Yes, seriously.

Anyway, I was walking with the children in the pushchair and I overhear

“…it takes two policemen to decide your environment isn’t suitable for your children.” Said the guy.

“I know and my solicitor said it’s best to leave it because of the “evidence” [yes she did the finger thing!] they have that I beat my daughter black and blue. What fucking evidence I don’t know.” Pink t-shirt hoop earrings said.

Then they went in a different direction and I couldn’t catch the rest of the conversation.

First of all, is that really a suitable subject to be discussing when you are aware other people can hear.

Secondly, wtf?  Just wtf?  Is it likely that they have compiled false evidence to remove your children? Especially over such a sensitive issue.

It does make you wonder what goes on behind closed doors.  As a mother, I would be devastated if someone accused me of beating my children black and blue.  I felt bad enough when I softly slapped The Toddler on the leg after she wasn’t watching what she was doing and kicked O.  I didn’t leave a mark, there was no bruising and she didn’t even flinch as less than ten seconds later her knee almost made contact with his head.  So yeah, I would be pretty mortified.  As it is,  I keep expecting Social and/or the Police to turn up when I have a screaming fit.  Pink t-shirt didn’t seem all that bothered.

And that’s the caliber of parenting we have locally.  Of course they are not all like that, although there are a lot of feral children roaming the close, running in the road and then scowling at any cars needing to perform emergency stops.

It makes me think that actually, despite our bad and shitty days, despite the shouting and sometimes pinning down during nappy changes, I’m not doing that bad a job. Maybe.

Happy Blah-day

Not only are we almost at the end of my two weeks imposed SAHM -ness, I’m also at the end of my tether.

I wrote before about why I could never do it full-time.  I change my mind daily about going back to work. I’m not sure which is worse. That’s horrible thing to say about staying at home with my kids isn’t it? I mean, I know how fast time flies.  I should be cherishing every scribble on the furniture, every temper tantrum, every piece of computer equipment she expertly dismantles.

But I can’t.

I’m waking up at the moment dreading spending the day with her, knowing that my temper will only tolerate ten minutes of her being a disobedient diva before I snap.

Ok, it doesn’t help that from about 2am I go into a 20 minute feed, 30 minute settling  20 minute sleep cycle until 7.30.  It definitely doesn’t help that the house constantly looks like mothercare exploded here and there are dirty nappies everywhere. The same load of washing has been hanging on the line for more than a week…

Which doesn’t sound massively odd for a house where the stay at home parent is still adjusting to two children, but we have a lodger. I want him to feel he can use the communal areas without feeling uncomfortable because they are a mess.

I think I shot myself in the foot by returning to work the first time.  If I had always stayed at home, this would have been easier right? What other excuses can I use for my failure?