Perspective

On 29th May my best friends brother, Evan, passed away. He'd been fighting HLH, a disease which you can read about & you can also see pictures of him before & throughout his treatment here:

http://www.justgiving.com/Evan-Manning

You can also donate to the Histiocytosis Research Fund too, in his memory.

Evan was a happy & brave little boy & every phonecall I've had with my best friend I heard about his ups & downs. He had been through so much, including chemotherapy & a bone marrow transplant.

Evan was four when he died.

Hopefully by raising money for research of the disease it might mean that others won't have to go through what Evan & his loved ones have been & are going through.

The Eyes Have It

Whilst going through all the pictures on my hard drive (and get royally distracted instead of organising things as I should have been) I was staggered as to how much Baby Girl looks like her big sister used to look as a baby. My eldest has big dimples whereas littlest has big chubby cheeks & they have different noses so in life they don't often look very alike - but there are glimpses. On looking back through these photos the resemblance just leapt out of the page. I think it's mainly in those big owly eyes - but judge for yourself..

 I can't quite believe my eyes with these two - Eldest as a baby on the left. If I hadn't have known better I'd have said they were both pics of Baby Girl!

 

Next up - Eldest as a baby left again & then the two of them together. So cute! Eldest still looks like herself here though too.

Then we have Eldest left & Baby Girl right, maybe not in the eyes in these!

& smiles all round

My Gorgeous Girlies. Both perfect, now & always.

Elation

When I was pregnant with my second baby I felt so detached from the whole process; so differently from my first glorious, glowing pregnancy that I worried so often that I would still feel no connection to the baby when he or she was placed on my chest for the first time. I couldn't comprehend just how I would be able to love another living creature as much as I loved my daughter. I couldn't imagine feeling that completeness of emotion be shared between two.

Now, as I sit, as I so often do - or at least as often as I get the opportunity - with my youngest daughter clasped firmly to my chest, her head resting against my cheek & her face full of innocence, laced with curiosity, yet somehow looking on with the dignified silence of someone with immeasurable wisdom - I wonder why that should be? - I feel, still, complete. I do not feel as though my love has been shared or stretched, I feel as though it has simply grown, yet all the while nothing has been taken from me. In fact I feel as though more has been given to me. 'Love' does not sum up what I feel for her & for her elder sister. 'Love' doesn't even touch upon it.

Elation.

Her fine flash of downy auburn hair against my cheek is the softest sensation I have ever felt & when I move my face to bury my mouth & nose into her scalp her scent is one so delicious & complex - one that tells me she is made of me. It is different to that of my eldest daughter in a thousand ways yet somehow the same.

As I hold her, in whichever position she is pressed against me it feels as though she fits. I was made to carry her & she was made to be held by me, first inside & now out.

Everything about both my daughters is love. I feel incredibly humbled by the love they have for me as well as the feelings that encompass me when I have them near to me & the anxieties I feel when I don't.

It is not enough to say that they are my world, but I cannot describe it any other way.

They are my world, & everything more.

Never Mind the Balilaikas...

Sat in our favourite coffee shop in York - Coffee Culture check them out! - talking to a close friend about personal rubbish & surely annoying the poor folk who could overhear our - my - whining, we got onto the subject of classical music somehow. Don't ask me how we got from bitching about dickheads from our past & maturely swearing about life infront of the 5 month old to classical music because I haven't the foggiest, but somehow the topic came about. When I started rattling on about piano lessons in my childhood, she was baffled as to how, in 8 years she hadn't realised that I played.

I had just assumed she knew, but clearly it'd never come up in conversation before now. It's not something that I do talk about much, especially as I gave it up just before taking my Grade Six exam, so I'm not particularly skilled, but I assumed that all my close friends would know that kind of stuff about me. It's part of me!

I don't listen to a massive amount of  classical music but it's certainly something I enjoy in private from time to time & something which I think it is important for my children to grow up knowing about. Just today we were watching the BBC Young Musician of the Year finals & I was explaining to my daughter that the girl was playing a cello & when she replied "Oh. Well at Grandpases I have a balilaika. It's triangle shaped." I  was rather impressed she'd remembered what it was called! Obviously something must be going in & it's because she enjoys music & plonking away on the piano & strangely enough her little balilaika. Anyway, I digress. Back to my friend & my revalation...

Maybe her outlook of me will completely change. Or maybe not.

But seriously, isn't it weird. I know all there is to know about me & the people closest to me know all my secrets yet sometimes the obvious things get lost & that feels like a massive chunk of me has been missing from her perception of me for the past 8 years.

What do you guys do in secret? What are your passions & talents? I'd love to know, because I think it gives a massive insight into the kind of people we all really are.

Where Has The Time Gone & Where Are We Going With This?

The girls are growing up so fast.

I started this blog as a record of our family life, but I've come to realise that really, I just prattle on about all my problems here & they rarely get a look in.

For this, I feel guilty. Look, I'm even doing it now!

So I find myself wondering, just what am I going to do about it?

What I'd like to do about it, ultimately, is to set up two different blogs, both self hosted but one will be a continuation of all the pissing & moaning I've been doing here plus a few other exciting bits & bobs, like recipes & maybe even getting Pea Green Pantry's Food as Therapy bloghop back on the go & the other will be carved out in a little secret corner of blogness & will be devoted to my beautiful, beautiful girls & their progress. For them to read & browse photos when they get a little older & to see exactly how much we cherished them, without any swearing.

I'm not really a 'Mummy' blogger, because I'm not just a Mum, I'm a woman first & foremost, but those girls are far too precious to me not to have a space made especially for them.

I do love them so.

How Bad Do We Really Have It?

I'm listening to a radio programme about women in Uzbekistan who are sterilised against their will & often without knowing, or lied to about why they should be sterilised.

All because the government decide so, as a 'solution' to control the growing population.

They are often made to have c-sections in order that they are limited to the number of children they can have in future, in order that the doctors, who are given a weekly quota of women they must sterilise, can remove a woman's uterus or tie her tubes. Women & families live in fear & often in pain.

It makes me realise just how good we have it, despite whatever we go through, it puts a lot in perspective.

Just imagine what these women go through, & then look at what we have.

 

You Probably Shan't Go To The Ball, But What Does That Matter?

I heard today that some mothers want to ban their children from reading such stories as Cinderella. Though I can see wherer they're coming from - poor down-trodden Cinders does all the housework but in end is unrealistically rewarded with man, money blah blah... - to me, banning ancient stories is madness.

It's fair to say that I think the whole 'Disney Princess' bullshit that my daughter so loves is wrong, in many ways. Disney has a lot to answer for. The shallow ideals of the stories, all the tat merchandise that is bought, making her think she is beautiful because she looks like any one of these characters. I'm all for her learning through roleplay & makebelieve but where do I draw the line? Yeah, I do wish I could stop it sometimes & I do my best to limit it. She is beautiful as she is, a pretty little girl in her little girl dresses. Children are innocent & they should remain so for as long as possible, in my opinion. Of course I'm not saying you should not educate your children in the ways of the world, but you must allow them the freedom to enjoy their childhood for as long as they need & for as long as is appropriate. Isn't that what we all want for out children? But is controlling what they are exposed to allowing them full enjoyment of childhood? I suppose that would entirely depend on what society lobs their way.

I detest the way in which our society encourages adults & children alike to buy into all this bullshit & think that being as grown up & beautiful & unrealistically successful is what they should strive for. For Christmas this year, at the tender age of three my daughter received presents of make up. I was appauled. But why should I be? I wear make up, I conform to society's expectations of me & I feel bad when I go out in public with bad skin & no face on. It is a fact of society & though I would like to change it, I cannot & so I do conform to an extent. This is not to say that I am a pacifist, far from it, but all this comes from somewhere. We want to look good in order to find a mate & reproduce, like many other creatures on this planet & this is our way of doing it & we have to accept this to a degree, however I do believe that there is way too much pressure on women & increasingly on men too to look unnaturally good & to live their lives in a certain, plastic way. Pressure to mutilate our bodies in order to please others. This is a step too far & I am afraid that it stems from an exposure to media from an early age. There is nothing I can do to stop the pressure that will inevitably be put onto my girls, but I can limit how they are exposed to it - we never owned a TV until we moved in with my OH, but even so, the girls hardly watch it. Maybe once a week, if that. They hardly want to either, but that is not to say they don't enjoy what they do watch. Sometimes I feel as though I should control what others buy the girls too but unfortunately I cannot, without being a dickhead about it - & what kind if example would that set? There is a fine line.

What I can do is provide them with the knowledge, love & example they need to become strong individuals in the future. This is what I strive to do anyway. I will paint Eldest's fingernails occasionally, if I am doing mine - its fun & she enjoys showing off - & I will be teaching her how to cook & do the laundry (hell, the sooner she learns the sooner it saves me a job!) but equally I'll be teaching her how to put up a shelf & change a washer in a tap (notably these are things that I can do but my OH can't. Just saying...) & all these things I would do regardless of the sex of my children.

The point that I am trying to make in a very round about way is that banning our children from these things is all very well, but where is the faith in our own skills as parents? Where is the faith in our children's intelligence? Faith that they will grow up & work out, as we have, that life isn't like a fairytale? Just because life is not so, it doesn't mean we can't enjoy whimsical tales of princesses, ogres, & kingdoms far, far away. The most important thing we can do for our precious ones is to allow them their enjoyment, giving them as much stimulation in all aspects of life & play for now & equip them with the skills, information & example they need to make their own decisions about the big bad world. Surely?

As I type, my eldest is playing at soft play, wearing a builders hat. That's my girl!

As for banning Cinders, well the unimaginative, westernised Disney bollocks...

...I couldn't give a toss about to be entriely honest, but I grew up with this beautiful version. One of the many childhood books & illustrations that fired my creative passions:

Now that, my friends, is what a handsome prince should really look like.

All in all, I think as long as we do our jobs correctly as parents, girls & boys can enjoy a wealth of traditional & contemporary stories. There is no harm in that.

Trapped in a box with two kids & my own sanity

For the past three months or so, I have spent almost 24 hours of every day with someone - be that with my children, partner, friends. When I think about this it scares me. A lot.

I am the kind of person who loves to be solitary. Don't get me wrong, there are a few nights a week where my partner works late & when the kids are in bed I am technically left to my own devices, however I have no choice but to stay in the house & it frustrates me that I can't even pop to the shops or go for a run. I often feel very trapped & therefore it is increasingly difficult for me to appreciate these evenings.

I envy my partner who has his car journeys to work & his freedom throughout the day. I envy him to the point that I almost resent him & this scares me.

My latest pregnancy was a shock to us to say the least. I was happy in my job & with my life in general when I found out. I did know that I would have to find a new job anyway, regardless of the pregnancy but because I was pregnant this swayed my decision to take something part time rather than the full time hours I'd previously enjoyed. We also had to move in together & this meant that I went from being fully independent to almost fully dependent on him.

I feel so angry that, though I love my children & appreciate the time I get to spend with them I am now left with no independence, money or sanity & that I have no choice but to be a full time mum. It isn't my partner's fault but it isn't my fault. Society & it's expectations of women plays a small part though generally this situation was unavoidable, so why do I still feel so angry & resentful about the whole deal?

All I wish for is a little more flexibility & freedom. My partner works long hours & we don't have any family close by. I constantly feel as though I am trapped & am going out of my mind. I often feel as though the only way out is to not be here any more - my logic being if I can't appreciate my role in life as a mother fully then what good am I to them? - but this shouldn't be the case. I see a Care Coordinator who helps me with the 'mental' side of my problems, & occasionally go to baby groups (which help so far as they get me out of the house but do not offer me any real sanity of freedom), but is there any real practical support for women like me? Is there no recognition of the needs of working families, particularly so far as support for fathers who may wish or need to help out at home? If not, why not? I'm sure that I am not alone in thinking that if fathers were allowed to support their partners more, should they need to, then a lot of women's sanity & well-being could be saved, a lot of time could be saved by health professionals & even relationships could be saved.

What the hell can I do?

Pea Green Pantry

Dear readers,

I love that I have readers - especially ones who are always generous with the advice & support they offer. Today I am looking for some feedback regarding a new blog that I am hoping to set up soon.

I love food & though I can't profess to being a great connoisseur or magnificent gastronome I do enjoy cooking & even more so I enjoy eating! It is an area that I enjoy experimenting in (saucy!) & something I'd like to get better at.

As a mum of two children - one who is not terribly fussy but has her moments of stubbornness & another who is only just coming up to the age of guzzling mush - & a dutiful wifey to my OH (if you can call avoiding housework dutiful) I often find myself cooking the same things over & over. I do not need another boring thing in my life & so I made a promise to myself that in the weeks to come I would make the effort to devise a menu for the weeks ahead. Not only to spice up the dinner table a little but to enable us to buy only what we need, food wise. I thought that a great way to get started & to stick to this would be to create a blog & share with you my experiences as I attempt to avoid disasters & not poison my family.

I hate waste & like to live as economically & as ethically as I can. I believe strongly that organic farming & eating is the way forward, both for the planet & for our health, but I am also not rolling in it & understand just how difficult it is to be 'green' when you have to watch the pennies. I think it will be something a bit like River Cottage on a budget & with more mess (oh how I love Hugh, but I haven't got a garden or a TV deal).

All in all, I am looking to create a new, separate blog based around my adventures in food which will include:

• Ideas for recipes, family friendly, speedy, special or anything else
• Tips for green living on a budget (or not, if you're that lucky!) & eating with the seasons
• Linkies with other foody families & people
• Experiments & disasters in my kitchen
• My journal of how I am getting on with my personal mission in food!

So what I'd like to know from you lovelies is if I am just being a lunatic & this is actually pretty boring or whether there are any other ideas you'd like to see on the blog.
The big question is what should I name the blog, there is a choice of three:

Pea Green Pantry
Our Pea Green Pantry
The Pea Green Pantry

Thank you for your eyes, readers!

UPDATE: You can now follow @PeaGreenPantry on twitter & find us at http://PeaGreenPantry.blogspot.com - I shall hopefully have everything fully operational before the end of Feb... How exciting!!

Yours, toastily, Chloe.

Day 7 of 366: Here Kitty, Kitty!

Today, Kitty got stuck up a rather large tree.

Have a lovely weekend folks!

Damn Sentimental Me.

Happy New Year one & all! Has 2012 been off to a good start for you this year? Or perhaps you are nonplussed - do you celebrate an alternative New Year? I'd love to hear.

For me, I don't find that I become overly reflective with the passing of a year but I always note how much has changed. This year, like many others has been a jam-packed one for me. It seems that I'm destined to live my life in the fast lane, as it were. So much happens from year to year I can hardly keep up.

I saw in 2011 in the company of some wonderful friends. I was single & surrounded by couples. I was pretty drunk & had a lot of fun dancing like an idiot on the 'slippy floor' of my favourite friend's dining room.

This year I was in the company of a wonderful friend, my other half & some of his lovely friends. I obviously am very un-single now, & furthermore, we have a gorgeous new addition to our family. We were all pretty sober & spent the evening eating crisps & chocolate in our living room.

I'm not one for resolutions - as I've mentioned in previous posts I'm bloody useless at keeping them - but I think that the beginning of a year offers the chance to plan ahead. This year I am looking forward to spending time with the children: watching them grow; enjoying our time (in between tellings-off & naughty-step placement) & most of all just being Mummy.

An important journey that I embarked upon last year & shall be continuing on this year is one regarding my mental health. I've been suffering from anxiety & the subsequent depression which has been ruling my life for the past year or so. It was only about half way through that I realised that it was a real problem. I thought for years that this feeling was just me being a fuck-up, not being able to be like other people. I just thought it was how I was, it never occurred to me that there may be help - a solution.

Since opening up, I've found that actually & quite sadly this is a common problem. A lot of people suffer & what is more, many suffer in silence. Like me, they think that is something they are just doing wrong or believe that there is shame to admit they feel so. When I decided it was time to start talking, as the depression was starting to rule my life, I initially did so to my partner & then explored some unofficial internet support groups, mainly on the website I sell crafts on. It took me a while to be able to open up to close friends & though I blog fairly openly about it I still haven't expressly told any of my wider circle of peers what I'm dealing with. This is mainly because it is not relevant, but is also due in part to fear of being judged. That is going to change. If relevant, then I shan't have any concerns about mentioning it in future, but the part I have struggled with the most is the scariest part of depression, which has only reared its head this year - at some extreme low points I have wondered what, exactly, is the point of pathetic me being here. That is to say I have felt suicidal. It sounds melodramatic & wholly ridiculous but it is damn scary. Thankfully, it is not something that I've felt since the birth of my second little girl & it is not something I ever want to feel again.

I was surprised to find that some too of my close friends have been struggling with such issues too, some for years. Like me, they hadn't really opened up but eventually I think we all just reached breaking point. We have always been close but much more so recently & though I would wish for no one to feel what I have been feeling, I have taken immense comfort in having somebody understanding to talk to & being able to support others when they're having a bad day & often when I feel I have been there for someone it makes me feel as though my life is not completely pointless. I love my friends, of course I always have, but this year all of them have been there for me when I really needed it & I couldn't have made it through without them. I am very lucky (& now I'm shedding a bit of a tear. Damn, sentimental me!).

With this in mind I have been wondering lately why there is no obvious support group for people tackling mental illness. I know that this is partly due to the stigma attached to all things brain-related & though there are some amazing people trying to wrestle this stereotype into submission it is still something that people feel uncomfortable with voicing & hearing. I feel that there needs to be something out there, with a big neon sign saying "Feeling mental? Come join the club - it's normal!".

People should have the right to voice their own feelings (should they choose to) without feeling labelled or diminished. They should also have the right to access support easily even out of 'office hours'.

So this year, in light of all I've said, I want to help myself & others. In fact I think that by helping others I probably would help myself too. All the bullshit around mental illness needs to be labelled as exactly that & I want to play a part in that.

Watch this space.

If you have any ideas, input, opinions, thoughts then please, please, get in touch. I would love to hear from anyone who has suggestions or experience in this field & details of how I can play a part in this, big or small.

You can email me at chloe.skinner@hotmail.co.uk
or find me on Twitter at @PeaGreenGwin
or even on Facebook by searching for Our Pea Green Pod

Wishing you all the best for 2012, I look forward to whatever this journey brings.

PS.

This year, I'd like to take part in the 366 day challenge, whereby you post a photo every day.

Don't ask me how I'm going to manage this, I'm flaky at the best of times, but it definitely sounds fun!

Today is just wanted to share with you some sumptuous roses which are sat on my desk. They were brought to me by a lovely, lovely lady. This is what makes friends so special - she is the best!

Our Pea Green Christmas

Christmas inside Our Pea Green Pod was wonderfully cosy & relatively peaceful (if you drown out the giddiness of Eldest kipper due to being entirely spoilt!)

I cooked my very first Christmas dinner (duck, rather than the traditional turkey) which was surprisingly successful & we have been enjoying duck sandwiches & bubble & squeak for the past few days! We had a real tree which smells divine & a mountain of presents, the like of which I have never seen in my life. The girls were very spoilt indeed!

Christmas was mainly hand made this year. I wanted to make Christmas as warm & as perfect as possible despite having practically no budget & so I had been knocking up a few bits & bobs for the past month or so. Some of these I sold, but others I kept for our home.

I thought I'd share with you a few of my Christmas bobs, all of which are exceedingly simple to make (hell, if I can, anyone can!) & I hope you enjoy & maybe even get a little inspired!

For the children (including the big kids...us) we had some little stockings to go on the tree. Eldest was thrilled that Santa had packed hers with nuts & chocolates & candy canes.

 For our tree I made some little felt bits & bobs. So simple - just felt shapes stuffed, with a blanket stitch around the edge & with buttons or sequins or bells for decoration. For some of these I used buttons from my Grandfathers old button tin which are actually older than I am! I love the idea that in years to come I'll be able to tell the children where they came from & how I used to love playing & counting the old buttons in that tin as a child.

I also had these gorgeous little wooden toadstools which I found in the local gardening shop. They were only 60p each & I treasure them! They complimented our little peg soldiers wonderfully. As a child I used to make these with my mum & they hold much sentiment for me, as well as being very cute & simple indeed! I can't wait to paint more with my girls & create warm memories for them when they get older.

For the mantelpiece & fireplace I made some bunting which I love, using some sumptuous Christmas fabric. I also had a few toadstools dotted around, some lovely thin holly tinsel which was a bargain from the range & complimented our usual fairy lights which hang there all year long. 

But, for me, the thing that really made our Christmas absolutely Pea Green was these two glittering faeries (even if the littlest one was a wee bit unimpressed at everything due to lacking the motor skills to actually open or play with presents or the comprehension to know what the heck was going on!)

Hope y'all had a wonderful one & that the New Year holds lots of magic for you. I think it shall for us!

Confessions of a Total Dick Head

Since finding myself responsible for not one, but two ever-needing & ever-wanting children it has become a daily ritual for me to have an extravagantly long shower, during which interruptions are completely ignored. Eldest whinging? Baby wailing? Not my problem. I should probably add that I make sure all their needs are met before showering, I don't just ditch them & run, so any complaints are simply attention based & can wait for half an hour.

Shower time is adult time (not like that), it is brain time, it is time for me to think. You know, like wot real people without kidz can do, init.

Usually shower time comes complete with it's own playlist. If my iPod were picked up by a stranger they'd be forgiven for thinking that it belonged to a woman in her mid forties rather than one in her early twenties (apart from a few give-away tracks) but that, my friends, is just how I roll.

Today I was listening to a spot of Beautiful South. The track that got me thinking was 'Prettiest Eyes'. It is one of my favourites. If you aren't familiar you can check it out here. It is basically a song from the perspective of someone who has been with a woman for 60 years. It got me pondering about the nature of relationships, particularly my own (of course) & wondering whether I'd ever experience long lasting love & security in the same way in which older generations, particularly my grandparents' generation seem to experience but which our society & culture seems not to allow room for.

Today, we are told that we have more freedom. We are told that we can have it all & we seek things like fairy-tale happiness, yet it seems to me that increasingly less people have long lasting, happy relationships. Do we set ourselves up for disappointment?

I look at my Mother's parents who have been married for 50 years, this year. They have always been happy, as far as I can tell. My Mum always tells of how she has never seen them argue. My Granny always tells her that that was because they never let her see them argue. This speaks volumes to me. Communication & honesty with each other & to yourself is key, there would be problems if you didn't occasionally quarrel but to find long-lasting happiness through this is exactly what I'd like for my future, but like anything in life, a relationship that lasts is something that requires hard-work & zeal from all involved & if there are children then it is important to think of their happiness first, as you would in all other aspects of life.

Looking at my mother, who is in her mid (to late, ahem) forties - & from whom my taste in music mainly comes - she is currently settled. When we talk about relationships she always jokes that she 'has been through quite a few men' to get to my step-father. I doubt she has been through as many as me, in my notably less years, though I never point this out to her! My Step-Father is, in my opinion (& I'm fairly sure in hers too) her perfect match. I love my Father, but I would never wish for my Mother to be with him. I was young when they divorced, only one year old, but I know in my heart that they aren't compatible, in fact I find it hard to imagine that they were ever a couple. My Step-Father & Mum have been together for about 15 years (I think), but they only married four years or so ago. For some reason I feel that there will never be any reason for them not to grow old together.

The example set by these people in my life is one that I find admirable & somewhat awe-inspiring. I want that for me & I hope that I am headed in the right direction. I have made mistakes. What I am about to share with you I have not shared with anyone outside of my circle of friends & I am certainly not proud, nor can I find any justification for my actions, but bear with me - it bears relevance & is only partly a selfishly placed confession.

My last relationship lasted about a year & a half & was with a guy who I had been acquainted with since college. He was very closed emotionally, but basically a nice, fun guy. I think that I fell in love with him, perhaps in hindsight not in a deep sense, but it was love nevertheless & he loved me too, but he was incapable of saying so. At first, 'the wall' was something that drew me to him - I have always liked a challenge - but as our relationship became more serious & we moved in together the very thing that drew me to him initially was what I came to resent. I couldn't break down 'the wall', not fully & I became increasingly insecure. It wasn't his fault, it was just how he was, but looking back I worry as to how he will ever truly be happy if he can't express such crucial emotions. We became more & more distant from each other. I think that we were both equally to blame for how the relationship deteriorated but the end came when I slept with somebody else. More than once. I'm not sure he even knows now that I was cheating, I wasn't big enough to own up to it, but he wasn't stupid. He left & that was that. I have never felt particularly sad that the relationship ended, it had most certainly run its course, but I feel ashamed that it took me such a cruel & selfish act to realise that it wasn't worth putting in the effort any more. I justified my actions at the time because I felt hurt & rejected, humiliated even, but it was always clear that I was, for want of a more eloquent phrase, just a total dick head.

My point is that I have been hurt & what is worse, I have hurt people along the way & though I feel remorse for some of the more selfish things I have done in the past, I don't regret them because I have always learned from my experiences. I have learned what I want to be in life (faithful, accomplished, hard-working, loved) & equally what I do not want to be (a total dick head).

I think what people lose sight of, in today's 'instant satisfaction' society is that a relationship, like anything, is something that requires input. People chase the dreams of looking beautiful, becoming rich or famous & having a fairytale love, but that simply isn't the case. I'm sure we all know the reasons for all these fucked-up delusions people of our generation suffer & the arguments as to why it is probably wrong yet so difficult to change, so I shan't drag it up, but I think that if we are consciously wanting to change something about ourselves for the better then what I have learned in my relatively few years of dating & loving is that to get more out of anything you must put more in, & what is more you must put it in to the right places. It is nothing profound, it is basic common sense, but I believe that it's something that from time to time, we can all lose sight of.

As for now, I feel very lucky. I have a relationship with someone who is worth every last scrap of effort. I also have two beautiful girls who deserve a happy upbringing, or at least a Mum who isn't a total dick head.

On Freedom & Lack of Plastic-Horse Related Injuries.

This week, Daughter is staying with my parents as we prepare for the supposedly imminent arrival of TBC & so we haven't seen her in over a week & if TBC doesn't [bloody well] get here soon then we shan't see her until Thursday at the earliest. At first the idea of peace, quiet & lay-ins was a blissful dream & I was relishing the time alone & the freedom to go wherever I pleased at whatever hour I wished, however after a few wonderful days of doing things like meeting a friend in pub, yes, a pub, & having a pint - a real sodding PINT! - with her & wandering as I pleased around trendy shops with no cries of "I neeeed a weeeee!" or "I'm hun-greeeeeeeee!" the novelty has worn off & as much as it pains me to admit it, I would rather have her here, whinging & all, than all this bloody peace & quiet. So I thought I'd share with you a few things that Daughter likes to say or do that usually drive me crackers, but that I inexplicably miss about her when she's not here.

1.

When I try to take a photo of how beautiful, sweet & charming she looks, a little like this...

...but because she is such a big fidget, you end up spending about 3 hours & taking several billion photos like this beforehand...

...& yes, that is a donkey she is licking.

2.

When we are in a public place & she says (at the top of her voice) things such as:

"Oh, Mummy, look at that man, he has a big, round, fat tummy! Like you!"

"No, Mummy, that's not a lady it's a man."

"Well, honestly, I just want to pick my bottom."

"Was that you pumping Mummy?" - please note, likely honest answer is no however I've found disputing this point can often lead to prolonged conversation regarding pumping, at increased volumes.

3.
The lack of housework there is to do. I know that as soon as she returns I'll retract this as a woe, but honestly, being around the house is so frigging boring. I feel as though I can keep the house tidy & have no excuse for not. At least when she's here if I can't be arsed to wash up I can blame having too much on to not do it & instead make a den out of a cardboard box or have a tickle fight. Now I have no excuse! It is nice not to nearly break my neck falling over train sets or standing on viciously shaped plastic animals, though.

4.
As much as I love silence, sometimes a nonsense conversation is wonderfully amusing. Now I have to be a grown up & do paperwork & things. I haven't been listening to Radio 4 at all as there is no need to balance out the 3 year-old-ness with vaguely informative & adult chatter.

5.
I miss her charm & her beautiful smile & the feeling of warmth I get when, after a day of complete horror, stubborness & avoidable tantrums (mainly mine, to be fair), she gives me a hug & a kiss & tells me she loves me & I melt.

I miss my Girly. Hurry up Baby.

Oh baby, I can groove..

It's Tuesday & this week I'm going to be much less tardy with my Grooving Mums post! Honest...

So, as you know I'm still joining in with Kate On Thin Ice's blog hop to get back my grooove...& though another bad week has occured I'm determined to focus on the positives.

This week Kate has set us a few challenges, the first of which is to think of your own challenge. Never one to be very good at motivating myself I am very tempted to set myself something sneaky like 'Eat copious amounts of curried pineapple in order to induce labour' but alas I think this is more of an inevitability rather than something I can count as challenging.

Recently I have realised that though I set up this blog to talk about my expanding family & keep track of all the lovely things we do, the focus has shifted, rather selfishly onto me & my personal struggle with pregnancy & though I do not want to stop blogging about how I feel, I think my challenge must be to put in some more posts about just how wonderful my beautiful daughter is. She is, after all, the reason I keep going & is soon to have a sibling who I will fall equally as in love with. Having said that, she isn't here for the week - freedom hurrah! but why do I miss her so? - but I'm aiming to try & compile a post about the great things we've done over the past few weeks.

Kate's second challenge is to investigate poetry & give an example of a poem you love. Though I do love literature, I often find poetry hard work & shy away, or I find that I get over-involved in poetry, as I do with songs, & then end up having nervous breakdowns. I was going to choose 'The Owl & The Pussy Cat' by Edward Lear, as it's a lovely nonesense rhyme & also what I would love to call the coffee shop I dream of one day owning, but instead I'm cheating. I'd like some lyrics from a song that I related a lot to when I was single, but actually now I think part of me relates to them even more, it also makes me think about #groovingmums too, particularly the verse beginning 'In the hours before breakfast...'. The singer is an Alaskan woman called Molly Venter & the song 'Sleep at Night' goes like this:

She steps outside and takes a breath
Like it's the last breath before she goes among the circus of performers
With smiles on their faces and she says
"I don't belong here, I don't belong here.".
Well she's marking off her checklist and making conversation
And forcing her smile today.
She cannot find a reason for her to be unhappy,
But suddenly she's lost for words to say.

And everybody feels like he doesn't belong among all the happy faces sometimes,
And everybody feels like he's the only one who can't sleep at night.

He hands her a strong drink, leans in too close for comfort
Before she can say goodbye.
Do you want to know a secret?
Learn to say "I love you." without needing to hear a reply.
Cause I have lost many friends,
There is only so much I can write in a letter
And if I had to do over again there is only one person I would have called
And now, finish your drink dear and I will walk you home,
Finish your drink dear and I will walk you home.

In the hours before breakfast with the boys
She is losing her patience, she is losing her poise.
I am tired, she thinks, and I'm late.
I don't remember warm weather, thanksgiving's not forever.
I used to work pretty damn hard and now I don't know where I lost my ambition
But I just want to wake up one morning and not worry about my dress size or my GPA
Or just how long it's been,
Just how long it's been.

And everybody feels like he doesn't belong among all the happy faces sometimes,
And everybody feels like he's the only one who can't sleep at night.

It's not until she walks out far from any street light she notices her hands are tied,
It's not until the wind stops that she knows by her own breath
She needs to be alone to sigh
And it's strange how thick silence feels in the air,
Oh and it's strange how thick silence feels in the air.

And everybody feels like... everybody feels like....

And I, I'll let you walk alone he says,
But I'd rather take you home to bed
And she thinks well it'd be so nice to go home with somebody,
Yes it'd be so nice to go home with somebody, tonight.

You can download it on iTunes, it really is an eerily beautiful & moving song from a little known but hugely talented musician.

Challenge number three is to dance. Well, I can tell you that I am so totally on it I think I've surpassed an entire weeks worth of dancing in an evening. As you may know I went to see the sexy men that call themselves the Red Hot Chili Peppers yesterday evening in Manchester & being 39 weeks pregnant did not hold me back. I bloody love that band & the were on fire & though I'm feeling the effects right now of over-exertion I had such a blast that I don't care! They played songs I've always wanted to hear live, dirty-funky-sexy-goodness. & we were so close too. Oh, it was just heaven for me!

Number four is to take part in a listography blog-hop. I can tell you that I am just not that interesting so I hope you are all ready to be disappointed but I'll get on with it at some point this week!

All in all, another crappy week but with some good bits that made it bearable. This week I shall mainly just be waiting on baby, too so I'll keep you all informed!

Keep grooving!

3pm Disappointment

It's 3.52pm & I was due to have an appointment with a member of the Rural Community Mental Health Team at 3.00pm today. Originally, my appointment with her was supposed to be on the first of the month., but she had to cancel due to 'having to take some annual leave'.

Though I was disappointed when my first appointment was cancelled, obviously these things happen, people have lives other than their work & I'm sure she was not without good reason to do so.

Since 2.45pm I've been watching every car that goes past the bay window. I hate waiting for people, & always feel anxious & agitated when I'm doing so. I have put out the washing, put in some more washing, tidied away some felts I'll need in an hour & generally fiddled about with all the things I'm usually too lazy to do in an attempt to distract myself but I can feel, even now I've become very nervous & teary.

This morning I felt awful again. Any good mood I'd felt in the past week has subsided & I'm in the sobbing phase again. I was half dreading but half looking forward to seeing this woman. I felt I needed it, even if I didn't much want it (my last appointment having been a little disappointing - read about it here). Now, an hour after she was due I feel foolish & let down. Why haven't I heard from her? Does my mental health not matter?

We were supposed to be making a crisis plan. To be honest I don't actually know what this entails but I imagine it to be clarifying steps to take should I feel horrendous & fancy topping myself or similar once the baby arrives. Obviously this was to be put into place before the baby's arrival & yet I am due in 12 days. What happens if I go into labour now or this week? The way I'm feeling at this moment in time I can barely bring myself to look in the mirror, let alone watch my child come into the world to a mother who is, let's face it, fairly useless at the moment.

It has been so difficult & frankly scary admitting to myself & the people I love that this isn't going to go away & that at times I can't cope; admitting that I am not normal, as much as I feel it sometimes & realising that no matter what I do, the cocoon of sadness & the sense of claustraphobia that comes with it will always return & admitting that I can't be the mum to my children that I always thought I would be. But I have done that & I've asked for help. I know myself well enough to realise that I need support & yet I feel as though I am not getting it. I'm not stupid - I may have made some bad decisions in my life, I may have been careless but I am intelligent enough to see things must change, yet all I feel has happened so far is that I have not been taken seriously or I have been patronised.

A very charming consultant we saw a few weeks ago was kind enough to make me feel like a child, talking to my partner as though I wasn't in the room & then giving me a withering telling off for having not seen my midwife enough, even though I have seen her as she has requested. & you know what - I just take it. I haven't the energy to make myself heard & that is the worst part of it. I'm ashamed of myself but what more can I do? I'm tired. & what about all those other people out there who aren't being heard? The ones who don't have the support of a wonderful partner or children who have to be their point of focus - what do they do when they don't get heard? How many slip through the net?

The system is failing. It is not acceptable - but who has the energy to fight?

It's 4.29pm now & I'm still watching the cars go by. I don't think she's coming.

Green Grocers Should Not Give Parental Advice.

It is 7.43pm & I am sat in bed by way of protest. I am typing each letter with defiance. My laptop is asking me to stop being quite so brutal. No, I tell it:

I am in protest.

What are you in protest of?

I am in protest - I say proudly - of...well...of everything. Downstairs is a mess. I know I have to tidy it before the Man's brother-in-law comes with our new sofa tomorrow - I say petulantly - but right now I am in protest & so I shall not be tidying it until later. & yes, I know that I have to fill in that form that I promised the Man I'd fill in (the one I have been avoiding for no reason) but he is not home until midnight & I shall not be filling it in until later & besides which I do not have an envelope big enough to post it anyway so I will have to wait until tomorrow to get one. So there.

Oh. What's that you're eating?

I am eating brioche, in protest - I say.

In protest of what?

I am eating brioche by way of protest against the horrific heartburn I currently have. It has become so bad that I cannot drink anything warmer than luke-warm & each gulp of food feels like a fiery golf ball when it reaches the part between my boobs but I am eating this brioche because it is tasty & I want to.

Yes, I think I have gone mad.

It all started with a bath, in which I was given time to think about things. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. I am irritable & I thought that a bath & time to churn over & settle a few thoughts in my mind would help - alas, it has not. It has, for some inexplicable reason, turned me into my petulant 3 year old Daughter.

There were two things that I realised, that are now bugging me. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The first comes from reading those little online baby things that tell you where you are at with your pregnancy each week - how big your baby is by measurement of fruit or veg for some inexplicable reason (does a green-grocer write these?), what you should be doing to make it a super-genius & what ailments should currently be plaguing you at this moment in time.

A few weeks back the Man was reading one of these aloud, as he likes to, & it mentioned something in the 'Ideas for Dad' section (normally full of mundane advice such as 'take out life insurance' or 'give her a foot-rub') that has stuck in my brain ever since. It said something along the lines of this:

Dad, have you tried the 'Guess the body part' game yet? - as though it's a frigging well known game? Pish - Baby is moving a lot now & though Mum now can determine an elbow from a knee why not have fun by feeling Mum's tum & trying to guess for yourself!

Well, I can tell you it didn't stick in my mind just because it sounded like a total hoot (ahem), no it stuck because I actually had no idea as to which body-parts bulged out of my stomach. & it's not like they don't bulge, I mean they really do. It's like it's trying to break out, Alien styley, & sometimes it hurts!  Ever since I have found myself frustratedly trying to decipher which bit of my bump is a head or a leg or a bum (all this made ten times worse by the fact that Daughter was breech so I am completely obsessed with whether this one is going to turn the right way or whether they might have to cut me open again) & I can't tell. So, in my mind, this makes me one or both of two things:

a) Stupid
or
b) A useless mother to my unborn child

&, if I'm honest, I'm not sure which is worse!

Okay, so I know, I know I am being over-sensitive about this & that there are obviously deeper issues here, but it really makes me think that the green-grocers who write this baby-twaddle & Crap Ideas for Dad should just stick to the 'be nice, avoid her wrath & make sure the money is coming in, two pound for that bunch of bananas' tack. Don't invent tedious games that insult half of the mothers who are paranoid about which way around there baby is laying. Don't torment me, follow your own mundane advice - avoid my wrath, make my partner give me back-rubs (he's not going near my feet) & tell him to leave all his money to me, should I kill him in frustration!

Seriously, pregnant women are sensitive & will be driven to bed & brioche in protest [of nothing] in a second, so be careful what you say!

Oh, & the second thing I realised when I was in the bath was that the bath edges needed re-sealing. I got out swiftly after this second realisation.

On Mammaries & Memories of Who I Am

I’m sat in the middle of the floor of my baby’s nursery as I write this. Behind me is the bed of the crib that was once mine, then my daughter’s & is now theirs. To my left are the legs of the crib, half painted & still wet. In front  of me is a brand new wooden high chair which currently seats Daughter’s dolly (adorned in oversized swimsuit, previously belonging to Daughter herself), some Johnson’s Baby Lotion which I shall never use as I prefer organic & ethical products & a hand-me-down plastic baby toy in suitably garish colours. Also in the room is a large cot, again, once belonging to Daughter; a beautiful new moses basket (my proudest & most unnecessary purchase); a new chest of drawers, too small to actually hold all the clothes & bibs we seem to have acquired; an electric breast pump; various baby bottles; a steam steriliser & all that other paraphernalia associated with a new baby.

I often come in & sit in this space, to try & familiarise myself with the room or just basically in an attempt to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to be a mother - again.

There will be a new baby in here in less than five weeks.

I can say this over & over but still it has not sunk in.

Earlier I took my shiny electric breast pump out of its box, read the instructions, dismantled & reconstructed it & stared at it for a while. Last time I had a manual one which was such a pain in the arse that I promised myself an electric one this time around – a lady of leisure with all my fancy baby gadgets & all that jazz. As I dismantled the pump again I felt a pang of excitement which was immediately followed by a wave puzzlement. 

When on earth did I go from being a [not so] cool, wild party girl who got rared up by a free shot of Sambuca from the handsome gentleman at the cheap bar, followed by a dance with the cheap gentleman from the handsome bar – or was it the other way around? That Sambuca had gone to my head – to being thrilled at the prospect of not having to manually extract the milk from my mammaries? Thrilled is perhaps too strong a word, but you see my point nevertheless?

If you have read any of my previous posts you will realise that I haven’t been coping with this pregnancy well & that I am finding it hard to be thrilled by anything at the moment, but I do feel happy that I am not completely detached & I am beginning to realise that maybe doing what makes it easier for me & by buying all this fancy but slightly unnecessary stuff will actually help me to cope better when the baby is here. I also think that it is going to be about finding a balance between the partying & the pumping.

I don’t want to lose sight of who I am, or who I can be. 

At the moment I am far too round to dance for more than 10 minutes without having to stagger to the nearest seating area & have a bit of a rest but that’s just pregnancy & I must accept this. It’s not going to last forever. In fact it’s going to last for five more weeks, maximum. I am 22. I am not past it by any means, I started young & therefore I have a head start in that I have the whole of my life to achieve the things I didn’t achieve when I was 18 & pregnant. I may spend my nights wakeful or sobbing & I may feel as though I have failed because I didn’t live my life in the order that my friends & peers lived theirs but I still have time. Sometimes I find it very difficult to remember this. Sometimes my insecurities bog me down & I do stupid things & think stupid thoughts & become so absorbed in myself or in my own sadness that I forget.

Pregnancy is not forever & hopefully shall be without stretch marks.

My life after pregnancy will be just as it was before – juggling motherhood, my mammaries & responsibilities with a career (we hope), sexy shoes & a lot of dancing (though possibly not with strange men).

I could do it before, even when I was a single mum, so surely even though I have an extra sprog the presence of a man evens that out?

It’ll all be okay – I just have to remind myself of that sometimes.