The elections have been called, and already I can no longer bear to listen to the radio on my long drive to work. You're looking at an individual highly interested in politics, who has a well grounded belief in the democratic process, the importance of elections. Yet the pre-election time, as for many I suspect, is driving me insane.
Take this newspaper style leaflet that our work-local Labour candidate produced. Real stories of real people. More real stories of real people on the radio, saying something of all politicians being the same and how they won't vote because of that. Then the so accused politicians either mouthing what they think is the voice of the people or telling us how impossible their relevant opponent is.
Boooring. In fact, annoying.
To make things worse, I'm sure immigration will be made an election topic and a whole load of rubbish will be thrown at us uninformed or informed non-voters yet again. Bleurgh.
And then, oh blessed be this day, I read something that made sense. Shame it didn't come from a politician or candidate, but hey, no worries, candidates can actually sign up to it! Imagine, no work for them, just read, be convinced and make it part of your policy calls. Easy.
The Daycare Trust have published an election manifesto of kinds, a childcare charter. It's short enough, plain English, and manages to put into easily understandable words what I've been trying to get straight in my head for a long time indeed. A must read. Go and have a look, honestly. It makes so much sense and there's not a comma I don't agree with. It has clear asks, and makes a strong case why childcare is such an important issue, one that could help reduce child poverty and social inequalities significantly, at a relatively low cost which would pay itself back at least 7 fold in years to come.
It's good of this charter to exist, but its existence won't change the world. So the Daycare Trust is asking you (yes, you!) to contact your local candidates and ask them to sign up to the charter and make it an election topic. I'd much rather have childcare as an election topic than immigration. It would do my ageing heart an awful lot of good. The Daycare Trust is also very nice to us potential/future/willing campaigners by giving us all the tools needed to contact our candidates - a model letter, model questions, an opportunity to join the force and all that.
I'm on board. Are you?
PS in other news: tonight (Thursday 8th April) the second series of How the Other Half Live will be shown on Channel 4 at 9pm. I'm sure the episode will have me in two minds again but there's no doubt that it manages to bring issues around inequalities in the UK to your living room in a very digestible and entertaining format.
Mummy do that!
Thursday, 8 April 2010
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
What parents really really want: flexible childcare
There are so many facets to flexible and integrated childcare that I find it almost impossible to find a starting point. How about this one then: For the past four months, I've been working with a group of young parents (aged 18-25) as part of our Inspring Change programme. The idea behind this programme is to work with groups of young people or parents/carers to dream, plan and do: Find a solution for something they identify that holds them back, plan for this solution and implement it. Something that may inspire others to do something similar. Something that maybe even those in power find a good idea and take it on.
So with this particular group it became clear quite early on that we were heading into the direction of flexible childcare. None of the parents are currently in work, some are attempting college courses. All struggle with childcare arrangements. It's a catch 22 situation: If you're out of work, you need a job first to afford childcare, once you have the job, you don't have childcare due to waiting lists and you'll lose your job offer while you're trying to source childcare. Childcare is paid in advance, salary in arrears. Tax credits kick in months later by which time you're at best in debt (wost bankrupt). Childcare may not be available nearby and you need a car (which you can't afford) or you are asked for a deposit for a place that you don't have. Your work may have irregular hours or a shift pattern, none of which is covered by the 8am-6pm childcare provision that you may, just may be able to access.
Sometimes, you just want a break. To go shopping without the toddler hassle. To go to an appointment. To go for a job interview. To take up a get back into work programme that you want to do but that doesn't offer childcare though being aimed at single parents (you what?????? Can someone please tell me who thought this up? Target a training programme at single parents and don't provide childcare? Are they supposed to lock their kids up in the flat or what?). To sleep because your baby never sleeps. You don't actually want full days every day, or one day every week, or whatever the format of provision that the childcare providers currently favour.
So, the young parents have come up with an excellent idea: A drop in creche. A creche on demand. One where you can book a few days ahead, drop off your child(ren) and get on with something important that you have to do. No strings attached. No signing away of your or your child's soul. Just a service that is available to make life a bit easier.
Of course there is funding to think of, and regulations. Yet, there's no harm in trying something out so with the budget the group has they will be running a pilot. From 27/4/10 - 1/5/10 a drop in creche will be running for afternoon sessions. The creche is free but has to be booked in advance. There are some ground rules, but more can-do's than can't-do's. Any user of the creche will be asked for feedback so the group can figure out demand and what works.
Maybe they'll carry it further to establish a social enterprise. Maybe this will be too big to do. What they will do undoubtably is raise awareness of the importance of having a flexible childcare provision locally, one that works with the children and parents alike.
And wouldn't it be nice if there actually was funding to run such a service? A service where parents with little family support would be able to book some hours while they attend an interview, an appointment, go shopping, or get some respite? Actually, why not?
So with this particular group it became clear quite early on that we were heading into the direction of flexible childcare. None of the parents are currently in work, some are attempting college courses. All struggle with childcare arrangements. It's a catch 22 situation: If you're out of work, you need a job first to afford childcare, once you have the job, you don't have childcare due to waiting lists and you'll lose your job offer while you're trying to source childcare. Childcare is paid in advance, salary in arrears. Tax credits kick in months later by which time you're at best in debt (wost bankrupt). Childcare may not be available nearby and you need a car (which you can't afford) or you are asked for a deposit for a place that you don't have. Your work may have irregular hours or a shift pattern, none of which is covered by the 8am-6pm childcare provision that you may, just may be able to access.
Sometimes, you just want a break. To go shopping without the toddler hassle. To go to an appointment. To go for a job interview. To take up a get back into work programme that you want to do but that doesn't offer childcare though being aimed at single parents (you what?????? Can someone please tell me who thought this up? Target a training programme at single parents and don't provide childcare? Are they supposed to lock their kids up in the flat or what?). To sleep because your baby never sleeps. You don't actually want full days every day, or one day every week, or whatever the format of provision that the childcare providers currently favour.
So, the young parents have come up with an excellent idea: A drop in creche. A creche on demand. One where you can book a few days ahead, drop off your child(ren) and get on with something important that you have to do. No strings attached. No signing away of your or your child's soul. Just a service that is available to make life a bit easier.
Of course there is funding to think of, and regulations. Yet, there's no harm in trying something out so with the budget the group has they will be running a pilot. From 27/4/10 - 1/5/10 a drop in creche will be running for afternoon sessions. The creche is free but has to be booked in advance. There are some ground rules, but more can-do's than can't-do's. Any user of the creche will be asked for feedback so the group can figure out demand and what works.
Maybe they'll carry it further to establish a social enterprise. Maybe this will be too big to do. What they will do undoubtably is raise awareness of the importance of having a flexible childcare provision locally, one that works with the children and parents alike.
And wouldn't it be nice if there actually was funding to run such a service? A service where parents with little family support would be able to book some hours while they attend an interview, an appointment, go shopping, or get some respite? Actually, why not?
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
Weekend in pictures: Easter
We had a very lovely Easter weekend, just that I wasn't enjoying it much with yet another chest infection and the thought that my obviously rubbish immune system may continue to play tricks for the remainder of this pregnancy didn't do my mood much good. I've moaned enough though (and have a feeling I may continue to do so), so instead, here are some snapshots of our weekend to treasure.
Kelburn Castle in bright Mexican graffiti artistery
Collecting seaweed near the Pencil in Largs
Easter egg hunt
And the treasures of the hunt.
Hope you had a lovely Easter too!
Hope you had a lovely Easter too!
Monday, 5 April 2010
Cubling's birth story
Amy over at and 1 more means 4 (or even 5!) is running a birth story carnival, which reminded me that I've never actually written down my full birth story. I've blogged about some aspects of it, specifically how my attempt at Hypnobirthing went, or how my dissatisfaction with how the birth went still was on my mind a year later. Mr. Cartside, much more organised than me, did write the birth story from his perspective, but can't get hold of it right now, so here it goes with my rather selective memory. Just like Amy, I'm addicted to birth stories - I don't think there's anything more amazing than that magical moment of a baby emerging into this world. Yes, I've been religiously watching One Born Every Minute too, and got lots of head shaking from family, friends and colleagues.
Cubling was late. Although this was relative - I had two different due dates (one given my an obs at a 7 week scan in Germany as the 12th of March, one at my 12 week scan in the UK as 8th of March). However, at 41 weeks there was no engagement, no sign of labour. Induction had been offered even at term, as I wasn't feeling well, but when I asked if there was any medical indication, the answer was no, so I politely (and shakingly) declined. I did agree to a stretch and sweep and had three in total, from 41 weeks. Knowing that the risk of stillbirth increases after 42 weeks of gestation, I also booked for induction for 42+1. I was monitored closely to check amniotic fluid levels, blood pressure and if baby was happy, and all was well.
The morning I went for my third sweep, at 42 weeks exactly, I woke up with hardly noticeable regular period type niggles, and I wondered if that could be it. At the hospital, I underwent the now familiar checks - scan, heartrate monitor for 30 mins, sweep. I mentioned the niggles - could these be contractions? They were 15 mins apart, and yes, they did come up on the heart rate/contraction writer. I was elated. The midwife gave me an extra good sweep as she said, and apparently I was already a little bit dilated (head still not engaged), but I can't remember how much.
The rest of the morning I went shopping in a supermarket for all the food that I felt like, made a super tasty lunch, danced a dance with Mr Cartside and we took a few videos to celebrate the end of this rather long pregnancy. Then I lay down on the sofa with my hypnobirthing scripts and went for a nap.
At about 7pm I was woken up by strong period type pains, 5-7 minutes apart. They increased in strength over the next few hours but not in frequency. I used birth ball, TENS, paracetamol and bath to try and make myself comfy, but the pains were bad enough to make me irritable (hubby was trying to finish an assignment for his MSc and I kept shouting for him, I couldn't bear for him not to be with me ALL THE TIME, although there was sweet nothing he could do, and looking back, those contractions were very manageable). I practiced hypnobirthing breathing techniques and really, although it was uncomfortable and I couldn't focus on anything but contractions, it was all very doable.
When contractions were 5 minutes apart I rang labour ward as advised. They told me to stay home. Fair enough, that's what I wanted anyway. Then suddenly, contractions went to 90 seconds apart, much stronger. The kind of shift that made me want to go to hospital without any doubt in my mind. So we got ready. We left just after 4 am, the birds were singing, the first sign of dawn was visible at the horizon. It was a beautiful night. I struggled down the 3 flights of stair between contractions, slowly, without any rush. At 4.30am we arrived at the hospital (I joked that I was a bit early for my induction which was set for 8am). In spite of my very strong and very regular contractions, they doubted if I was a stayer. The initial monitoring and check confirmed I was dilated enough to stay (was it 4 or 6cm? I can't remember) and I was asked if I wanted to labour in the birth pool. Oh the joy, all going to plan then! The pool was run, and I soaked myself in the spacious pool, complete with essential oils. The midwife asked if all was well and if we were happy to be left alone. We were. This was great - no further interference, I was able to snack, drink as I pleased, just Mr Cartside and myself.
At 9 am, the midwife shift changed and the new midwife and a student introduced themselves. They were now staying with us all the time. Contractions were strong and regular, but the water really helped. We had brought CDs and I loved listening and singing along to calming music, interspersed with hypnobirthing scripts. Yes, I was tired, but it was still ok. I hated having to leave the pool for checks for heart rate, especially as the student often didn't manage to find baby's heart beat. I didn't want to talk, but the midwife requested to read my rather long birth plan and took it very seriously. All was going well until my waters broke. This was followed by the most excruciating contraction, the first one that made me scream, and worry. Hubby asked if I knew what had just happened. Indeed I said after I was able to speak again. Because the midwives were not qualified to deliver in water, and for risk of infection, I had to leave the pool after my waters had broke. I could hardly get out, even with the support of three people. My hip, my every bone in my lower body seemed to hurt. I had no control of balance or my own weight, and the intensity of contractions outside the water was unbearable. An examination revealed I was 9cm. I think it was roughly 12 noon at that point. I couldn't get up after the examination. I wanted to, but I couldn't lift myself. My legs were cramping, my bones felt like they were being crushed, I had the image of my baby's head being crushed inside of me. Fear took hold and I lost control. I begged for pain relief, but fearing an epidural, I asked for diamorphie. The midwife tried to delay, she followed my birth plan and tried to talk me out of it, that I was almost there and diamorphine won't do much good now. I insisted.
So I was moved into the delivery room, away from the dimly lit, cosy birth pool room where I had hoped to give birth. I was put on my back. I tried to move on my left side but the pain was too bad. With the diamorphine, I felt sleepy and all I could think was I want to sleep, I don't want any contraction anymore. And contractions slowed down. I liked it. However I had been fully dilated for a while now and things weren't meant to slow down. So I had to be given a drip. I begged to keep the amount minimal, please no more of these horrible contractions. The midwife said that I could push if I wanted to. Yet I didn't know how to push plus hypnobirthing tells you to breathe down, and not to push. I didn't do anything, just wanted to sleep and not be in pain anymore. By now it was 3.30pm (I think - I remember looking at the clock in the delivery room at that time). I'd been fully dilated for 3 hours. I hadn't pushed once. Suddenly the OB was there and waved a c-section consent form in front of me. I panicked, as in - total panic. I screamed. I hyperventilated. 36 years of fear of childbirth came out of me at once and I suddenly realised in this emotional turmoil that all this was about was not to go through what my mother had gone through - severe pre-eclamsia, a c-section, and permanent health issues as a consequence, the hopes of a second child crushed, me an only child, forever loathing a sibling. More than anything, I did not want a c-section. I didn't make any sense to the OB in my drugged state, but Mr Cartside translated calmly what my outburst was about. The OB changed his approached and calmly talked me through the situation, and assured me that they would only do a c-section as a last resort, and try to get Cubling with forceps. However, for the safety of the baby, I had to sign this form and have a spinal.
It took me 5 minutes to sign. My hand shook uncontrollably, I cried, no, sobbed. All I could think of was that I was consenting to something I did not actually consent to. As everyone left to get ready for theatre, I felt devastated. Then suddenly I realised that there was a bit of control I still had. I may not know how to push, but I sure could try. So I pushed with all my might. And pushed. And pushed some more. As I was wheeled into theatre, I felt something move. Encouraged, I pushed again until I had to stop for the spinal to be given. Everyone was in theatre, cheerful and calm, which helped, but I was still panicky. I was terrified that the contractions came too frequently for a window to get the spinal in. But once it was in, oh the bliss of no more pain. Still, they had to give me more gas and air to calm me sufficiently for the procedure, I was a wreck of nerves. I really thought I was going to be cut open. Then, the OB (still there) announced that he could do it with forceps. I felt like dancing on the operating table (if only my legs would have moved!). I didn't feel a thing, Cubling was born at just after 4pm and delivered straight unto my chest as we had requested (as a condition for me signing that consent form). I named her there, in my drugged daze, and luckily Mr Cartside agreed. Not for long though and the time it took to stitch me up (I had had an episiotomy and torn inside too) I felt very vulnerable not being able to see my daughter, not knowing if she was ok. I only knew later that hubby was with her all the time.
I had to spend 3 or 4 hours in recovery, which felt like an eternity. I was starving and incredibly tired. I kept falling asleep with Cubling lying on top of me, scared for her to slide off, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. I tried to get her to feed but she wasn't interested. Mr Cartside had to leave at 8.30pm. That first night, I slept like a log. When Cubling cried a bit, she was taken away as I couldn't get up yet to look after her. She was away from 10pm to 2am, and I remember waking in between and panicking yet again where she was, being reassured by a midwife, and sleeping again.
For a full year I felt that the birth hadn't gone the way I had hoped for. I kept thinking that maybe an epidural would have been wiser than the diamorphine which messed up my mind. Or maybe my mind was messed up by transition and and epidural was out of question because it was too late in the day. I felt that I hadn't given birth because of the instrumental delivery. 3 years on though, those thoughts are gone. I did the best I could and above all I'm glad I didn't have a c-section, which was my real fear. And having witnessed a c-section, I now also know that it isn't that bad - I still wouldn't want it, and do realise how hard the recovery is, but at the end of the day, what counts is that baby and mum are well. With all my expectations for a natural birth, what really affected me was the sense of failure, when really there was none. My sense of failure came from my high expectations, and if there's anything I've learned is that it's better to have realistic expectations, because no birthing mama deserves to feel like a failure for a full year.
I was very pleased with the midwife support - and lucky that the same midwife was with me from 9am to 6pm, that she tried to follow my preferences for birthing. The birth pool was fabulous while I was allowed to stay in it, and for the birth of Tiddler, well, there's a birth pool now as part of many labour rooms and the midwives have had training and can deliver in the pool now! I'll also change my birth plan to request coaching on how to push, and won't exclude the option of an epidural - however I will not ever want to touch that diamorphine again which messed up my head and that of my baby (she didn't feed for 2 full days, and was very sleepy which I blame on it).
Cubling was late. Although this was relative - I had two different due dates (one given my an obs at a 7 week scan in Germany as the 12th of March, one at my 12 week scan in the UK as 8th of March). However, at 41 weeks there was no engagement, no sign of labour. Induction had been offered even at term, as I wasn't feeling well, but when I asked if there was any medical indication, the answer was no, so I politely (and shakingly) declined. I did agree to a stretch and sweep and had three in total, from 41 weeks. Knowing that the risk of stillbirth increases after 42 weeks of gestation, I also booked for induction for 42+1. I was monitored closely to check amniotic fluid levels, blood pressure and if baby was happy, and all was well.
The morning I went for my third sweep, at 42 weeks exactly, I woke up with hardly noticeable regular period type niggles, and I wondered if that could be it. At the hospital, I underwent the now familiar checks - scan, heartrate monitor for 30 mins, sweep. I mentioned the niggles - could these be contractions? They were 15 mins apart, and yes, they did come up on the heart rate/contraction writer. I was elated. The midwife gave me an extra good sweep as she said, and apparently I was already a little bit dilated (head still not engaged), but I can't remember how much.
The rest of the morning I went shopping in a supermarket for all the food that I felt like, made a super tasty lunch, danced a dance with Mr Cartside and we took a few videos to celebrate the end of this rather long pregnancy. Then I lay down on the sofa with my hypnobirthing scripts and went for a nap.
At about 7pm I was woken up by strong period type pains, 5-7 minutes apart. They increased in strength over the next few hours but not in frequency. I used birth ball, TENS, paracetamol and bath to try and make myself comfy, but the pains were bad enough to make me irritable (hubby was trying to finish an assignment for his MSc and I kept shouting for him, I couldn't bear for him not to be with me ALL THE TIME, although there was sweet nothing he could do, and looking back, those contractions were very manageable). I practiced hypnobirthing breathing techniques and really, although it was uncomfortable and I couldn't focus on anything but contractions, it was all very doable.
When contractions were 5 minutes apart I rang labour ward as advised. They told me to stay home. Fair enough, that's what I wanted anyway. Then suddenly, contractions went to 90 seconds apart, much stronger. The kind of shift that made me want to go to hospital without any doubt in my mind. So we got ready. We left just after 4 am, the birds were singing, the first sign of dawn was visible at the horizon. It was a beautiful night. I struggled down the 3 flights of stair between contractions, slowly, without any rush. At 4.30am we arrived at the hospital (I joked that I was a bit early for my induction which was set for 8am). In spite of my very strong and very regular contractions, they doubted if I was a stayer. The initial monitoring and check confirmed I was dilated enough to stay (was it 4 or 6cm? I can't remember) and I was asked if I wanted to labour in the birth pool. Oh the joy, all going to plan then! The pool was run, and I soaked myself in the spacious pool, complete with essential oils. The midwife asked if all was well and if we were happy to be left alone. We were. This was great - no further interference, I was able to snack, drink as I pleased, just Mr Cartside and myself.
At 9 am, the midwife shift changed and the new midwife and a student introduced themselves. They were now staying with us all the time. Contractions were strong and regular, but the water really helped. We had brought CDs and I loved listening and singing along to calming music, interspersed with hypnobirthing scripts. Yes, I was tired, but it was still ok. I hated having to leave the pool for checks for heart rate, especially as the student often didn't manage to find baby's heart beat. I didn't want to talk, but the midwife requested to read my rather long birth plan and took it very seriously. All was going well until my waters broke. This was followed by the most excruciating contraction, the first one that made me scream, and worry. Hubby asked if I knew what had just happened. Indeed I said after I was able to speak again. Because the midwives were not qualified to deliver in water, and for risk of infection, I had to leave the pool after my waters had broke. I could hardly get out, even with the support of three people. My hip, my every bone in my lower body seemed to hurt. I had no control of balance or my own weight, and the intensity of contractions outside the water was unbearable. An examination revealed I was 9cm. I think it was roughly 12 noon at that point. I couldn't get up after the examination. I wanted to, but I couldn't lift myself. My legs were cramping, my bones felt like they were being crushed, I had the image of my baby's head being crushed inside of me. Fear took hold and I lost control. I begged for pain relief, but fearing an epidural, I asked for diamorphie. The midwife tried to delay, she followed my birth plan and tried to talk me out of it, that I was almost there and diamorphine won't do much good now. I insisted.
So I was moved into the delivery room, away from the dimly lit, cosy birth pool room where I had hoped to give birth. I was put on my back. I tried to move on my left side but the pain was too bad. With the diamorphine, I felt sleepy and all I could think was I want to sleep, I don't want any contraction anymore. And contractions slowed down. I liked it. However I had been fully dilated for a while now and things weren't meant to slow down. So I had to be given a drip. I begged to keep the amount minimal, please no more of these horrible contractions. The midwife said that I could push if I wanted to. Yet I didn't know how to push plus hypnobirthing tells you to breathe down, and not to push. I didn't do anything, just wanted to sleep and not be in pain anymore. By now it was 3.30pm (I think - I remember looking at the clock in the delivery room at that time). I'd been fully dilated for 3 hours. I hadn't pushed once. Suddenly the OB was there and waved a c-section consent form in front of me. I panicked, as in - total panic. I screamed. I hyperventilated. 36 years of fear of childbirth came out of me at once and I suddenly realised in this emotional turmoil that all this was about was not to go through what my mother had gone through - severe pre-eclamsia, a c-section, and permanent health issues as a consequence, the hopes of a second child crushed, me an only child, forever loathing a sibling. More than anything, I did not want a c-section. I didn't make any sense to the OB in my drugged state, but Mr Cartside translated calmly what my outburst was about. The OB changed his approached and calmly talked me through the situation, and assured me that they would only do a c-section as a last resort, and try to get Cubling with forceps. However, for the safety of the baby, I had to sign this form and have a spinal.
It took me 5 minutes to sign. My hand shook uncontrollably, I cried, no, sobbed. All I could think of was that I was consenting to something I did not actually consent to. As everyone left to get ready for theatre, I felt devastated. Then suddenly I realised that there was a bit of control I still had. I may not know how to push, but I sure could try. So I pushed with all my might. And pushed. And pushed some more. As I was wheeled into theatre, I felt something move. Encouraged, I pushed again until I had to stop for the spinal to be given. Everyone was in theatre, cheerful and calm, which helped, but I was still panicky. I was terrified that the contractions came too frequently for a window to get the spinal in. But once it was in, oh the bliss of no more pain. Still, they had to give me more gas and air to calm me sufficiently for the procedure, I was a wreck of nerves. I really thought I was going to be cut open. Then, the OB (still there) announced that he could do it with forceps. I felt like dancing on the operating table (if only my legs would have moved!). I didn't feel a thing, Cubling was born at just after 4pm and delivered straight unto my chest as we had requested (as a condition for me signing that consent form). I named her there, in my drugged daze, and luckily Mr Cartside agreed. Not for long though and the time it took to stitch me up (I had had an episiotomy and torn inside too) I felt very vulnerable not being able to see my daughter, not knowing if she was ok. I only knew later that hubby was with her all the time.
I had to spend 3 or 4 hours in recovery, which felt like an eternity. I was starving and incredibly tired. I kept falling asleep with Cubling lying on top of me, scared for her to slide off, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. I tried to get her to feed but she wasn't interested. Mr Cartside had to leave at 8.30pm. That first night, I slept like a log. When Cubling cried a bit, she was taken away as I couldn't get up yet to look after her. She was away from 10pm to 2am, and I remember waking in between and panicking yet again where she was, being reassured by a midwife, and sleeping again.
For a full year I felt that the birth hadn't gone the way I had hoped for. I kept thinking that maybe an epidural would have been wiser than the diamorphine which messed up my mind. Or maybe my mind was messed up by transition and and epidural was out of question because it was too late in the day. I felt that I hadn't given birth because of the instrumental delivery. 3 years on though, those thoughts are gone. I did the best I could and above all I'm glad I didn't have a c-section, which was my real fear. And having witnessed a c-section, I now also know that it isn't that bad - I still wouldn't want it, and do realise how hard the recovery is, but at the end of the day, what counts is that baby and mum are well. With all my expectations for a natural birth, what really affected me was the sense of failure, when really there was none. My sense of failure came from my high expectations, and if there's anything I've learned is that it's better to have realistic expectations, because no birthing mama deserves to feel like a failure for a full year.
I was very pleased with the midwife support - and lucky that the same midwife was with me from 9am to 6pm, that she tried to follow my preferences for birthing. The birth pool was fabulous while I was allowed to stay in it, and for the birth of Tiddler, well, there's a birth pool now as part of many labour rooms and the midwives have had training and can deliver in the pool now! I'll also change my birth plan to request coaching on how to push, and won't exclude the option of an epidural - however I will not ever want to touch that diamorphine again which messed up my head and that of my baby (she didn't feed for 2 full days, and was very sleepy which I blame on it).
Thursday, 1 April 2010
Happy Blogoversary to me!
This is no April Fool, it's been exactly a year today that I started Mummy do that! Somehow, this is an ambivalent landmark (if you can have landmarks relating to time). Thing is, I've been blogging for years, and I do see Mummy do that! as a logical continuation of my original blog, Cartside. There were reasons to change - Cartside had started out as a civil society blog and then, after my daughter was born, I found myself blogging much more about pregnancy, babies, motherhood and all that comes with it. There was a feeling that my blog didn't fit into the platform of the civic society community of civiblog. On technical terms, I was also worried that civiblog might cease to exist as emails didn't get answered and generally there didn't seem to be any humans behind the platform anymore. Another reason to change was that the civiblog community never really was that - all those civic society people were very much caught up in their own very busy spheres and there was no real community to speak of.
I changed to an ostensibly mummy blog because I thought that's what my blog had become, without every intending to letting go of the other stuff that I feel passionate about. I wanted to increase my readership, engage in a debate rather than blog in isolation with hardly any readers or comments. I wanted to make sure that I was on a blogging platform that wouldn't suddenly disappear.
In the past year, I did increase my readership. I was introduced to many more blogs - so many in fact that often I spend all evening reading blogs, rather than getting around to posting myself. I'm a real comment junkie and love the way that almost every post does get some comments (even if not the same number that many other blogs get). I'm not a community junkie - I'm quite happy to engage with just a few bloggers who I value for a variety of, but specific, reasons, and even that is fleetingly because I simply have very little time at my hands (how on earth do some people manage to tweet almost constantly? No way I could ever even think of keeping that up).
The one thing that I struggle with now is that I'm still not entirely comfortable with being part of the mummy blogger community. Muddling Along Mummy eloquently raised the perception of mummy bloggers as something not as valuable, possibly limited to just talking about babies and kids and that really, mummy bloggers all have their own identity, and an impressive breadth of topics they cover. And yet we let ourselves be defined by the term mummy. I try to see the positives - it is a very supportive community, one that anyone would feel comfortable in and I like that. I also appreciate the diversity of this blogging community and never assume that a mummy blogger has nothing more to say than when the first tooth of their firstborn came through. Yet it's a question of balance and after 3 years of being a mummy, most of my posts are not about the fact that I have a child. However, my perspective on life has been influenced by just that fact, so that even if I don't blog about being a mummy, it influences my views, my interests, my passions. Just from a different angle than before.
So, in a way, I wish I hadn't maybe picked a blog title that made it so blooming obvious that this is a mummy blog. I'm still happy with the label, because I do believe that we mummy (and daddy) bloggers can make the label mean so much more than it may currently mean for some people. But having it in the title, well, not so sure if that was a good idea (though I still love the title as such, as it comes straight from the mouth of my little firecracker).
The great thing about the mummy blogger community is that everything is possible, and I still feel this is where I belong. More so anyway than any of the alternatives. So you'll be glad to know that this blog will be continued. Possibly with more mummy stuff anyway, can't really ignore that bump of mine growing and taking on worrying proportions.
I changed to an ostensibly mummy blog because I thought that's what my blog had become, without every intending to letting go of the other stuff that I feel passionate about. I wanted to increase my readership, engage in a debate rather than blog in isolation with hardly any readers or comments. I wanted to make sure that I was on a blogging platform that wouldn't suddenly disappear.
In the past year, I did increase my readership. I was introduced to many more blogs - so many in fact that often I spend all evening reading blogs, rather than getting around to posting myself. I'm a real comment junkie and love the way that almost every post does get some comments (even if not the same number that many other blogs get). I'm not a community junkie - I'm quite happy to engage with just a few bloggers who I value for a variety of, but specific, reasons, and even that is fleetingly because I simply have very little time at my hands (how on earth do some people manage to tweet almost constantly? No way I could ever even think of keeping that up).
The one thing that I struggle with now is that I'm still not entirely comfortable with being part of the mummy blogger community. Muddling Along Mummy eloquently raised the perception of mummy bloggers as something not as valuable, possibly limited to just talking about babies and kids and that really, mummy bloggers all have their own identity, and an impressive breadth of topics they cover. And yet we let ourselves be defined by the term mummy. I try to see the positives - it is a very supportive community, one that anyone would feel comfortable in and I like that. I also appreciate the diversity of this blogging community and never assume that a mummy blogger has nothing more to say than when the first tooth of their firstborn came through. Yet it's a question of balance and after 3 years of being a mummy, most of my posts are not about the fact that I have a child. However, my perspective on life has been influenced by just that fact, so that even if I don't blog about being a mummy, it influences my views, my interests, my passions. Just from a different angle than before.
So, in a way, I wish I hadn't maybe picked a blog title that made it so blooming obvious that this is a mummy blog. I'm still happy with the label, because I do believe that we mummy (and daddy) bloggers can make the label mean so much more than it may currently mean for some people. But having it in the title, well, not so sure if that was a good idea (though I still love the title as such, as it comes straight from the mouth of my little firecracker).
The great thing about the mummy blogger community is that everything is possible, and I still feel this is where I belong. More so anyway than any of the alternatives. So you'll be glad to know that this blog will be continued. Possibly with more mummy stuff anyway, can't really ignore that bump of mine growing and taking on worrying proportions.
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
Secret Post Club, the MADS and why we should listen to children
Umph. How rubbish am I getting at blogging. What with not managing to catch up on all my unwritten posts, here I go again muddling them all together into some incoherent mess. Neither the Secret Post Club, nor the MADS, nor the short but poignant video on why we should listen to children deserve this.
So please bear with me and read on, because it's all lovely stuff I have to share!
This is the first month that I've joined the Secret Post Club which the lovely Heather over at Notes from Lapland is organising (and I'm sure that's a part time job) and you wouldn't believe my excitement when I receive the package - I was rarther curious to find out who sent it and naturally what it was. Bare Naked Mummy really hit the nail on the head with a lovely bath pampering set and a fridge magnet sticky note pad, for that pregnancy brain of mine. And for Cubling, she quite enjoys playing with it and colouring in the elephant (it's the shape of elephants). Such a thoughtful present. Sorry for the lack of a photo, I promise improvement!
All last week I've been trying to ignore the MAD Blogger Awards. You see, I really really don't think I deserve any of the categories, plus I'm not exactly someone particularly active in building the mummy blogger community (I just love to read blogs and blog myself), but of course I also have an ego (and not a small one at that) so I knew I'd fret whether I'd be in it or not. And sure enough, when I saw that I didn't even get a single nomination, I washaving a massive tantrum a little bit disappointed. Thankfully MrsW from Clinically Fed Up (oh how I envy that blog name!) came to my rescue (and I belief there was only a little bit no coercion involved). Admittedly I also felt a bit guilty for not having submitted my own nominations (who am I to complain not to get nominated when I can't get my act together to nominate people?), and boy was that hard. So many good blogs out there, such a hard call to make. I think it's a fab idea, especially because the MADs have already introduced me to a few blogs that I didn't know yet. So get your nominations in, only a few days to go now, and of course don't forget to nominate me! (Only joking, I'm quite reconciled with the world now and you can save your nominations for the real fab blogs out there).
Lastly, but not leastly, here's a great short film about why we should listen to children a bit more when making decision that affect them. The young people in the film are all members of Save the Children's Global Panel and recently met up in London, bringing together their views and experiences of Save the Children's Programme work across the globe.
So please bear with me and read on, because it's all lovely stuff I have to share!
This is the first month that I've joined the Secret Post Club which the lovely Heather over at Notes from Lapland is organising (and I'm sure that's a part time job) and you wouldn't believe my excitement when I receive the package - I was rarther curious to find out who sent it and naturally what it was. Bare Naked Mummy really hit the nail on the head with a lovely bath pampering set and a fridge magnet sticky note pad, for that pregnancy brain of mine. And for Cubling, she quite enjoys playing with it and colouring in the elephant (it's the shape of elephants). Such a thoughtful present. Sorry for the lack of a photo, I promise improvement!
All last week I've been trying to ignore the MAD Blogger Awards. You see, I really really don't think I deserve any of the categories, plus I'm not exactly someone particularly active in building the mummy blogger community (I just love to read blogs and blog myself), but of course I also have an ego (and not a small one at that) so I knew I'd fret whether I'd be in it or not. And sure enough, when I saw that I didn't even get a single nomination, I was
Lastly, but not leastly, here's a great short film about why we should listen to children a bit more when making decision that affect them. The young people in the film are all members of Save the Children's Global Panel and recently met up in London, bringing together their views and experiences of Save the Children's Programme work across the globe.
Monday, 29 March 2010
Add some sparkle to your life!
So today, I would like to share Marlene's shop with my lovely readers. Have a look, tweet the shop, add it to your facebook profile or whatever other social networking you may be into. I'd really like to get the message out about her fabulous jewellery. No, this is not a sponsored post, I just genuinely love her stuff.
Not being someone who sells handmade things myself, I'm not sure if folksy or etsy is the way to go, if any of the crafty folk amongst you have any opinions on this, or how else to promote Marlene's shop even, do let me know.
By the way, you can also order custom made items in your favourite colour scheme for the same price as the items presently listed in the shop. Just drop us a line. Ah go on, treat yourself and sparkle a little bit!
Sunday, 28 March 2010
Celebrating Now
I'm slowly tapping back into some form of normality. Pregnancy is still making me tired at the end of the day. This translates to half of the posts I've got in my mind not being written, knitting needles being somewhat neglected and my camera not getting the same use as I'd like to. However, I have been doing a bit of all of this as well as managed to celebrate Cubling's birthday in style. What with not having a proper party last year, she got two this year. Imagine 11 toddlers, 3 or so babies and relevant parents at party number one, to be repeated by a slightly lower toddler count (but greater adult count) the following day. Lesson learned: the second round is much easier, practice helps. Still, I'm not sure if I'd recommend having two rather large children's birthday parties on two consecutive days if you're pregnant. Of course, it was all worth it for her, to show her how special she is, even for the overtired whining at the end of both days.
The doll's house was a great success, and has been played with much more than the train tracks. Cubling loves to put the dolls to bed, to wake them, to rearrange the house, to clear the rubbish out (literally decluttering it, something that we need to do ourselves urgently) and she even does bedtime routines for the babies.
She's always been a very physically active girl, with lots of energy, and while I don't know what exactly she gets up to at either the new nursery (which currently has an exercise theme) or the forest kindergarten, but she sure has made another leap in confidence and ability to climb rather worrying heights. Or throw herself down a slide backwards and head first (I recall that as a child, this was beyond what I felt comfortable with. Not at 3 - but ever). While I admire her energy and physical ability, her climbing reduces me to an overprotective mum, I feel my legs go just watching her. She also manages to run off so fast that I have no idea which direction she went to, but fortunately she is reliable in responding when I ask where she is. So far anyway.
We are still being tortured with endless why questions, plus the rather entertaining first question of the day "what morgen doing?" and the question upon return at home "what you do today?" Her world is that of interacting with other people, she'll go up to any stranger and ask for their names, that of energetic play and activity, that of glueing and painting, role playing, singing and sharing books. She has no time for numbers or letters, no concept of counting years (although she does have a concept of quantities), clearly life is much too busy for any of that. And right she is. I still can't see her as a school girl and I'm glad that she still has a fair bit of time before she'll be made to sit on classroom chairs, because thanks to her March birthday, she'll be starting school at 5 1/2. She is exhuberant and excitable, yet also extremely keen on cuddles and kisses. She will say "I liebe dich" again and again in such a sweet voice that it can only melt your heart away. The longer she can enjoy these pleasures of worryfree life, the better.
Outdoor pictures taken at Finlaystone Park which in spite of the hefty entry cost I can only recommend as a day trip destination for any energetic toddler.
The doll's house was a great success, and has been played with much more than the train tracks. Cubling loves to put the dolls to bed, to wake them, to rearrange the house, to clear the rubbish out (literally decluttering it, something that we need to do ourselves urgently) and she even does bedtime routines for the babies.
She's always been a very physically active girl, with lots of energy, and while I don't know what exactly she gets up to at either the new nursery (which currently has an exercise theme) or the forest kindergarten, but she sure has made another leap in confidence and ability to climb rather worrying heights. Or throw herself down a slide backwards and head first (I recall that as a child, this was beyond what I felt comfortable with. Not at 3 - but ever). While I admire her energy and physical ability, her climbing reduces me to an overprotective mum, I feel my legs go just watching her. She also manages to run off so fast that I have no idea which direction she went to, but fortunately she is reliable in responding when I ask where she is. So far anyway.
We are still being tortured with endless why questions, plus the rather entertaining first question of the day "what morgen doing?" and the question upon return at home "what you do today?" Her world is that of interacting with other people, she'll go up to any stranger and ask for their names, that of energetic play and activity, that of glueing and painting, role playing, singing and sharing books. She has no time for numbers or letters, no concept of counting years (although she does have a concept of quantities), clearly life is much too busy for any of that. And right she is. I still can't see her as a school girl and I'm glad that she still has a fair bit of time before she'll be made to sit on classroom chairs, because thanks to her March birthday, she'll be starting school at 5 1/2. She is exhuberant and excitable, yet also extremely keen on cuddles and kisses. She will say "I liebe dich" again and again in such a sweet voice that it can only melt your heart away. The longer she can enjoy these pleasures of worryfree life, the better.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
Great books to share with kids - in German
One of the fascinating aspects of raising a child bilingually is that you get the double whammy of books. Oh I love children's books, so many styles, so many ideas, so much creativity and imagination in them. There are books I love for the illustrations only, other for the story, then those that have beautiful rhymes, mad storylines, whacky ideas.
It's hard though finding the right books in the weaker language, in our case German. The main problem is that you really only get a feel for a great book if you see it in the bookshop, while we of course rely heavily on getting our German books through online channels as British book stores don't tend to stock German children's books (while German book stores do stock English children's books).
So for the benefit of any other parents out there who want to support their child's German in a bilingual situation outside a German speaking country, here are some of my personal favourites to share with my daughter - or should I say some of her personal favourites?
Right now, Cubling is into jigsaws. So her favourite book is one that combines a lovely story with jigsaw versions of the illustrations. It's the German version of The Snail and the Whale by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler. The translation is really well done, you wouldn't notice it wasn't a German book to start with, it rhymes beautifully and the book is substantial enough for the jigsaw pieces not to get torn to shreds even when used on a daily basis.
Bobo Siebenschlaefer is no longer our daily book choice, but it has been for a full year. Just as well there are 4 Bobo books by now, otherwise I would have had Bobo coming out of my ears. From before she turned 2, Cubling adored these books. No day would pass when she didn't want at least one story read, if not the whole book. I'm sure she knows them off by heart by now. The illustrations won't draw you in instantly, they are plain, as are the stories. However, because the stories are so everyday and really relate to a toddler's world, they love it. Cubling also enjoys the tapes that go with it, and now that she can work the tape player herself, she can be often found listening to yet another Bobo story.
I personally love "Ich waer' so gerne Zoodirektor" but to be fair, Cubling is only starting to be a fan of it now. I love the style of illustration of the book, as well as the imaginative story, which rhymes and is a reasonable short read. Cubling hasn't really picked this book until recently, although she's always quite enjoyed reading it (when I picked it).
And just to show you that mummy and toddler views on books can be quite different, Cubling loooves "Bagger Billy", a book clearly aimed at the boys' market, a story about a boy and his crane driver dad, who ends up fixing a digger. It couldn't be more boyish. Yet Cubling will regularly insist on this book being read, although we bought it in small format and the story isn't, well, that exciting. It is to her, maybe because half of Scotland currently consists of road works (I'd better not go off a tangent here or I'll still be fuming mad in the morning).
"Der kleine Klokoenig" is the story of a boy who is learning to use the toilet. Of course I had certain motives when that book was bought. However, Cubling rather likes it and while it didn't lead her to copy the perfect loo behaviour, she rather enjoyed the idea of unrolling full rolls of toilet paper. So if you're precious about your loo paper, maybe this isn't the book for you, but Cubling is enchanted by the boys misinterpretation of the loo seat, and has endless fun telling him that it isn't an aeroplane or swim ring, but a loo seat!!!
Another series of books that I didn't think she would like until I was proven wrong is that of Wieso? Weshalb? Warum? Junior (recommended from 2 years). We have one book on the seasons and one on colours, and Cubling loves both. They are factual and interactive with flaps, and brimming with information (which I doubt will be understood by a 2 year old, but at 3, we may be getting there). The books also have a series of CDs to listen to, and while we've tried here and there, I find them still a bit too old for my daughter.
Another favourite has to be Das Monster vom blauen Planeten, an imaginatively illustrated story told from the perspective of an alien boy who catches a "monster", a girl from planet earth. Again I'm not sure if Cubling understands the complex change of perspective, but she sure likes the story and all the detail in the illustration! She is fascinated by the three armed and trioptic aliens and delights in exploring all the details in the images.
A book that has been a great success is a children's song book (Die schoensten Kinderlieder Soundbuch) that Cubling can also press buttons on. It was one she picked herself, off the shelf when I wasn't looking. While I didn't like the idea of those artificial tunes much, but to be fair, she's never learned German songs faster than with this book. She loves matching the buttons with the songs, she enjoys me singing along (which is surprising) and now she will sing herself.
Finally, Ilse Bilse - 12 Dutzend alte Kinderverse is a real treasure. It is such a beautiful book filled to the brim with old rhymes that I can half remember from my childhood. The illustrations are a bit more abstract, yet still appealing to both child and parent. I was initially a bit worried that it may not engage Cubling because the illustrations aren't very bright, but I was wrong. It is a book that is regularly picked and demanded, and mummy is told off if she tries to rush through it and leave out even on single rhyme.
I'm sure there are many more books that can be recommended, those are just the ones that we have AND were a success from age 0-3.
If you would like to buy any of them through amazon.de, why not consider going through the Mummy's Buchladen link on the top left or by clicking on the Ilse Bilse image?
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Hip hip hurray!
Just for a bit of fun and variety I thought it would be nice if Daddy Cartside would write a post on this very special day.
Happy Birthday! Our wee girl is three today, and I'm falling in love again. I once saw a TV program where the presenter declared that she could determine the adult characteristics of a child at three years. So now I can't stop looking at her; trying to imagine the "big girl" or even adult version. I know I shouldn't; I hope it's a phase. The council nursery sent us home a photo sampler, and she looks so sweet and happy. To be honest, that's because she is! Not that she can't be grumpy too, but overall she loves to laugh and giggle, and delights everyone she meets. As you can imagine, we're very proud and happy too. Where did she come from? Was it really Mummy's tummy? It's all a little bit like magic isn't it?
You know she's learning German, right? Did Mummy Cartside tell you what she said the other day? "I love he." No, she wasn't referring to yours truly, it was the Gruffalo! Well, a tiny cuddly Gruffalo. I seized the initiative and lined it up for our bedtime reading session; and we got through it no problem. Hurray!
In the morning we'll show her her new doll's house, and the train set in the evening. I hope the nursery remember. Will they sing her a song? Give her a card? Make her feel special? I do hope so. Will she know her age at last? She did the other day, but "didn't know" by the evening.
Happy Birthday! Our wee girl is three today, and I'm falling in love again. I once saw a TV program where the presenter declared that she could determine the adult characteristics of a child at three years. So now I can't stop looking at her; trying to imagine the "big girl" or even adult version. I know I shouldn't; I hope it's a phase. The council nursery sent us home a photo sampler, and she looks so sweet and happy. To be honest, that's because she is! Not that she can't be grumpy too, but overall she loves to laugh and giggle, and delights everyone she meets. As you can imagine, we're very proud and happy too. Where did she come from? Was it really Mummy's tummy? It's all a little bit like magic isn't it?
You know she's learning German, right? Did Mummy Cartside tell you what she said the other day? "I love he." No, she wasn't referring to yours truly, it was the Gruffalo! Well, a tiny cuddly Gruffalo. I seized the initiative and lined it up for our bedtime reading session; and we got through it no problem. Hurray!
In the morning we'll show her her new doll's house, and the train set in the evening. I hope the nursery remember. Will they sing her a song? Give her a card? Make her feel special? I do hope so. Will she know her age at last? She did the other day, but "didn't know" by the evening.
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