A good few years back, a friend introduced me to allotments in Glasgow. She took me to her allotment and I fell in love with the idea of growing my own food. My name went on the waiting list, within six months I had an allotment.
I tried. And tried. And tried again, yet every year there was a reason for my endeavours being thwarted. Year one it was the actual plot I had chosen - contaminated, overgrown with plants that were impossible to move. I got a new plot and it was much better, yet I struggled to get anything to grow. Life took over a few times too, I even was in the committee bad books, and when Cubling was born, I tried again, full of ambition. She was having none of it and cried incessantly for the whole duration of each visit to my beloved and neglected patch of land.
I decided to call it a day. Heavy heartedly. We took some wonderful photos of the family before leaving the plot, and the plants went to friends across the city for a second life.
At the same time, we found our home, with the prerequisite of a garden. Not much of a garden, mind you, we live in Glasgow where houses are small and tenement flats are the norm. But we do have a garden, even two, a north facing front and a south facing back garden. Slowly, each year, I've been building up some food growing. Slowly because in our first year, Cubling still was high demand, in our second year, our time was taken up with other things, and now, in our third year, I'm starting to feel rather proud of my patchy gardening attempts. There are two raised beds which arrived exactly a year ago, now filled with cabbages, broccoli, leek, spinach, courgette and pumpkin. There are pots all over the place, sunflowers, berries, potatoes, lettuce. There's still potential for more, still a lot needing done, as every garden, it's a work in progress.
It's also still a work in progress because I'm awfully good at killing off plants. Not quite sure why, but a natural I am not. I can't seem to grow lettuce from seed, and messed up my tatties although I should know better. I don't get why one raised bed does wonderfully while the other doesn't seem to do my plants much good. My berry harvest is rather meagre, and of course I wish I could do something nice to the north facing front garden. So I was delighted when I found out about Urban Roots' Grow More Food course - a free 8 week course for southside residents on food growing and composting (an area where I can only be described as a fail, and not for want of trying). The programme looks rather good and because of the interest in the course, there will be at least one additional course from late July. So if you're a Glasgow South resident and interested in learning more about growing food, how to do it in small and bigger spaces, get in touch with Urban Roots for more information.
Mummy do that!
Wednesday, 30 June 2010
Monday, 28 June 2010
A football fan is born
I feel like I live in a strange warp of time and activity. My life is so disjointed that it confuses me. Having spent staring at the screen all my working day today, I can't bear to spend any more time than necessary tonight on it.
Yesterday a new football fan was born. Not that I give an awful lot about football, but usually, during the world cup or similar, I kind of get a little bit into it. Not hugely, but I do like to see a nice match and after the last European Championships in Germany, which I witnessed in Cologne, with the whole melange of ethnicities all putting up Germany flags, and an atmosphere of having a party with all your neighbours, I kind of got ever so slightly patriotic and wishing the German team well. And I like to see goals, and they didn't disappoint me in their first match.
So yesterday, we had an interesting set up at home. Mummy, hopeful for a German win, Daddy, hopeful but doubtful for an English win, and both of us competing in jest for Cubling's support. The first rules of football were explained and interestingly she got the concept of yellow cards for foul play pretty straight away, and understood that you should play fair. Cubling was shouting patriotically "Deutschland Deutschland" and cheered wildly for the first two goals (asking "Deutschland now winnen?") while also wanting the red men to win. Maybe the colour was a bit more appealing? I don't think she understood that 90 minutes had to pass, but thought that whoever scores will be the winner. Later on she refused to go to bed because she wanted to see the blue man with the yellow sticker again. I have a feeling she's the only one he's popular with right now (we're talking about the referee here in case you were wondering, the sticker is the yellow card). It was lovely just enjoying the first football game we ever watched as a family with her, patriotism or not. We had fun, and that made even the match destroying ungiven goal kind of ok. I wonder who she will support in future matches, but above all I hope she'll see how relative such identities are.
Four years ago exactly, we watched the world cup in Germany before and after our wedding. Our friends who celebrated our day with us were from all corners of the world, and together we cheered for every conceivable team, often changing allegiance rather frequently in a single match. Because the great thing about football is that it brings people together for a nice party, at least it does so in my experience. Yes, we want our respective team to win, but it's always as much about coming together, enjoying each other's company in front of the big screen and a cool beer. I like that, and as long as we've got this, even if only in miniature in our family and chatting to the neighbours (who supported Germany for all the wrong reasons), it feels good.
Maybe for the next match, there'll be flags to add to the excitement.
Yesterday a new football fan was born. Not that I give an awful lot about football, but usually, during the world cup or similar, I kind of get a little bit into it. Not hugely, but I do like to see a nice match and after the last European Championships in Germany, which I witnessed in Cologne, with the whole melange of ethnicities all putting up Germany flags, and an atmosphere of having a party with all your neighbours, I kind of got ever so slightly patriotic and wishing the German team well. And I like to see goals, and they didn't disappoint me in their first match.
So yesterday, we had an interesting set up at home. Mummy, hopeful for a German win, Daddy, hopeful but doubtful for an English win, and both of us competing in jest for Cubling's support. The first rules of football were explained and interestingly she got the concept of yellow cards for foul play pretty straight away, and understood that you should play fair. Cubling was shouting patriotically "Deutschland Deutschland" and cheered wildly for the first two goals (asking "Deutschland now winnen?") while also wanting the red men to win. Maybe the colour was a bit more appealing? I don't think she understood that 90 minutes had to pass, but thought that whoever scores will be the winner. Later on she refused to go to bed because she wanted to see the blue man with the yellow sticker again. I have a feeling she's the only one he's popular with right now (we're talking about the referee here in case you were wondering, the sticker is the yellow card). It was lovely just enjoying the first football game we ever watched as a family with her, patriotism or not. We had fun, and that made even the match destroying ungiven goal kind of ok. I wonder who she will support in future matches, but above all I hope she'll see how relative such identities are.
Four years ago exactly, we watched the world cup in Germany before and after our wedding. Our friends who celebrated our day with us were from all corners of the world, and together we cheered for every conceivable team, often changing allegiance rather frequently in a single match. Because the great thing about football is that it brings people together for a nice party, at least it does so in my experience. Yes, we want our respective team to win, but it's always as much about coming together, enjoying each other's company in front of the big screen and a cool beer. I like that, and as long as we've got this, even if only in miniature in our family and chatting to the neighbours (who supported Germany for all the wrong reasons), it feels good.
Maybe for the next match, there'll be flags to add to the excitement.
Saturday, 26 June 2010
What do you think? This one, or this one or that one?
How many wraps, slings and carriers can the expectant mum choose from? It's a hard call, even if like me you have tried a good few in the past. Having had the experience of a baby who clearly resented her pram and who was rather partial to being carried (and still is), I was often seen pushing an empty pram while carrying Cubling in her front carrier. In Germany these are only recommended from 6 weeks of age, and while here nobody seems concerned about using them from birth, I was still cautious and tried a wrap with cradle position in the first weeks. The wrap was short, and really it was the only position I could create. Cubling didn't like it, and neither did I.
However, the front carrier worked well - she liked it, never cried, she slept in it, I managed to get to town by public transport and with minimum hassle. It worked so well that I really wondered why I had bought a pram at all (from 12 weeks, Cubling was in her buggy, facing forward, much to my dismay, as I would have preferred to have had eye contact with her).
The only problem with the front carrier was that it did hurt my shoulders and back. And it only lasted until she was about 9 months and got too heavy.
This time, I plan to babywear from the word go, rather than bother with the pram in the first weeks. And I'm looking for the perfect baby carrier. I quickly found out that stretchy wraps are good for newborns but not so good for a heavier toddler, while woven ones last longer but may not be as snug as the stretchy ones. Knowing how I struggled to even get a simple position wrapped around my baby, my main worry is that it would take too long, baby would get fed up before we're even ready to go, I'll get frustrated with it and there's a danger I won't try again. Still, I like the versatility of wraps. Maybe I like the idea but not the practice of it? What I do know is that a short one won't do me, and I failed using one I had before.
Some makes come recommended: There's Didymos, Ellevill Zara (with very lovely designs), Calin Bleu, there's Ellaroo too, to name but a few. As with cloth nappies, the choice is massive and it can be more than confusing when you don't want to buy an expensive item that you then won't use.
For a rather long time, a sewing pattern for a mei tai has been sitting in my pattern box. I like the look of the mei tai, but don't trust myself to sew one that would actually be safe enough for a baby. In a way I also feel that the mei tai is basically the same thing as the front carrier I already have, just a bit nicer.
I'm intrigued though with the idea of having a crossover between a wrap and a mei tai and when PhD in Parenting reviewed it a couple of days ago, my mouth began to water. I love everything about the Hop-Tye, the combination of mei tai ease with the wrap like distribution of weight across your body. Oh and the designs. I love the designs, if it comes to fabric, it has to please my eye.
I've also come across so called sling meets. Basically they offer an opportunity for past, current and future babywearers to come together and exchange experiences, and even try out some of the carriers. I just wish I hadn't missed the last one by a week, but I'm glad Glasgow has a sling meet and it's still in good time before my due date (although I'm partial to getting a carrier that would double for getting Cubling off my shoulders NOW).
I haven't quite made my mind up yet, but I guess you can see where I'm heading. So if you have any experience or recommendations to share, I'd be grateful, and maybe so would others who are confused by choice and lack of experience of actually using a range of baby carriers.
However, the front carrier worked well - she liked it, never cried, she slept in it, I managed to get to town by public transport and with minimum hassle. It worked so well that I really wondered why I had bought a pram at all (from 12 weeks, Cubling was in her buggy, facing forward, much to my dismay, as I would have preferred to have had eye contact with her).
The only problem with the front carrier was that it did hurt my shoulders and back. And it only lasted until she was about 9 months and got too heavy.
This time, I plan to babywear from the word go, rather than bother with the pram in the first weeks. And I'm looking for the perfect baby carrier. I quickly found out that stretchy wraps are good for newborns but not so good for a heavier toddler, while woven ones last longer but may not be as snug as the stretchy ones. Knowing how I struggled to even get a simple position wrapped around my baby, my main worry is that it would take too long, baby would get fed up before we're even ready to go, I'll get frustrated with it and there's a danger I won't try again. Still, I like the versatility of wraps. Maybe I like the idea but not the practice of it? What I do know is that a short one won't do me, and I failed using one I had before.
Some makes come recommended: There's Didymos, Ellevill Zara (with very lovely designs), Calin Bleu, there's Ellaroo too, to name but a few. As with cloth nappies, the choice is massive and it can be more than confusing when you don't want to buy an expensive item that you then won't use.
For a rather long time, a sewing pattern for a mei tai has been sitting in my pattern box. I like the look of the mei tai, but don't trust myself to sew one that would actually be safe enough for a baby. In a way I also feel that the mei tai is basically the same thing as the front carrier I already have, just a bit nicer.
I'm intrigued though with the idea of having a crossover between a wrap and a mei tai and when PhD in Parenting reviewed it a couple of days ago, my mouth began to water. I love everything about the Hop-Tye, the combination of mei tai ease with the wrap like distribution of weight across your body. Oh and the designs. I love the designs, if it comes to fabric, it has to please my eye.
I've also come across so called sling meets. Basically they offer an opportunity for past, current and future babywearers to come together and exchange experiences, and even try out some of the carriers. I just wish I hadn't missed the last one by a week, but I'm glad Glasgow has a sling meet and it's still in good time before my due date (although I'm partial to getting a carrier that would double for getting Cubling off my shoulders NOW).
I haven't quite made my mind up yet, but I guess you can see where I'm heading. So if you have any experience or recommendations to share, I'd be grateful, and maybe so would others who are confused by choice and lack of experience of actually using a range of baby carriers.
Thursday, 24 June 2010
Pregnancy and medical advice
It is hayfever season. We're having a dry spell in Scotland, which makes things rather unbearable. When trailing through pregnancy forums, you wouldn't believe the number of pregnant women complaining about how they aren't allowed to take antihistamines and how badly they are suffering as a consequence.
For some while now, I've been adding my threepence worth of opinion but I'm alone. Ask any GP, pharmacist or midwife and you will be advised against taking any antihistamines. The same goes for nasal sprays, cough medicine, and of course alcohol. With all of these, if you bother to do some research, there is no proven risk to the fetus.
I say this again: there is no proven risk to the fetus if you take certain antihistamines (there are exceptions; but many antihistamines fall into this category), drink alcohol without getting drunk or use nasal sprays.
Yet pregnant women are strongly advised not to take the risk. A risk that hasn't been quantified. A risk that hasn't been investigated because nobody wants to do any research on the unborn life. A risk that may not exist.
And we, the pregnant women of the western world, are happy to follow this medical advise and suffer.
It is not something I take lightly - I've suffered from hayfever since I was 12, and asthma from 27. Thankfully, Scottish flora is kind on me and I only have to suffer a few months, but those months are tough. I can't go out without instant unbearable itching and sneezing. If I didn't take antihistamines, I'd be confined to my home, unable to do anything outdoors. Anything. And then someone tells me that there is an unproven risk to my baby if I take antihistamine for a couple of months and yes, I'd better stay indoors all that time.
Well, you know what? I've chosen to take antihistamines in both my pregnancies. As I've taken nasal spray for some of my now 7 head and chest colds since I had the bfp. When I was told off by my midwife for drinking 1 unit of alcohol a week, I giggled in disbelief (but kept my mouth shut). My pregancy notes actually state that I have been advise to give up drinking. WTF! I'm not drinking. I have a half glass of wine ONCE A WEEK. There's more alcohol in ripe fruit.
Somehow society is going out of its way to tell pregnant women about risks to their babies and their responsibility to eliminate any possible risk, regardless of the reality of the risk or quality of life to the pregnant woman. While real risks are entirely ignored. While listening to Women's Hour it was made more than crystal clear: misuse of alcohol does result in fetal death. Not because the pregnant woman drinks, but because of alcohol triggering violent behaviour towards a pregnant woman: "more fetuses are lost due to male violence against pregnant women". And those statistics are proven. Alcohol consumption in some people leads to violence which poses a real risk to those near to them, including the unborn child. As for fetal alcohol syndrome - in spite of the very restrictive medical advice and women reducing their alcohol intake significantly, the incident of FAS has remained the same over the years. Which indicates that it's only those pregnant women who have an addiction to alcohol (and thus won't/can't stop) who actually harm their baby.
There is no advice given to fathers who have violent tendencies that they shouldn't drink while their partner is pregnant because this could lead to harm to the baby. Instead, it's the women who are restricted in their diet, medicine and alcohol intake to such degrees that it's laughable. All the while being made guilty for every drop of alcohol consumed, for every remedy taken. The pregnant woman has become the property of society in a misguided attempt to protect the unborn life, while society is happy to ignore the real dangers to the unborn and born child.
I'll be off to have a glass a wine then.
For some while now, I've been adding my threepence worth of opinion but I'm alone. Ask any GP, pharmacist or midwife and you will be advised against taking any antihistamines. The same goes for nasal sprays, cough medicine, and of course alcohol. With all of these, if you bother to do some research, there is no proven risk to the fetus.
I say this again: there is no proven risk to the fetus if you take certain antihistamines (there are exceptions; but many antihistamines fall into this category), drink alcohol without getting drunk or use nasal sprays.
Yet pregnant women are strongly advised not to take the risk. A risk that hasn't been quantified. A risk that hasn't been investigated because nobody wants to do any research on the unborn life. A risk that may not exist.
And we, the pregnant women of the western world, are happy to follow this medical advise and suffer.
It is not something I take lightly - I've suffered from hayfever since I was 12, and asthma from 27. Thankfully, Scottish flora is kind on me and I only have to suffer a few months, but those months are tough. I can't go out without instant unbearable itching and sneezing. If I didn't take antihistamines, I'd be confined to my home, unable to do anything outdoors. Anything. And then someone tells me that there is an unproven risk to my baby if I take antihistamine for a couple of months and yes, I'd better stay indoors all that time.
Well, you know what? I've chosen to take antihistamines in both my pregnancies. As I've taken nasal spray for some of my now 7 head and chest colds since I had the bfp. When I was told off by my midwife for drinking 1 unit of alcohol a week, I giggled in disbelief (but kept my mouth shut). My pregancy notes actually state that I have been advise to give up drinking. WTF! I'm not drinking. I have a half glass of wine ONCE A WEEK. There's more alcohol in ripe fruit.
Somehow society is going out of its way to tell pregnant women about risks to their babies and their responsibility to eliminate any possible risk, regardless of the reality of the risk or quality of life to the pregnant woman. While real risks are entirely ignored. While listening to Women's Hour it was made more than crystal clear: misuse of alcohol does result in fetal death. Not because the pregnant woman drinks, but because of alcohol triggering violent behaviour towards a pregnant woman: "more fetuses are lost due to male violence against pregnant women". And those statistics are proven. Alcohol consumption in some people leads to violence which poses a real risk to those near to them, including the unborn child. As for fetal alcohol syndrome - in spite of the very restrictive medical advice and women reducing their alcohol intake significantly, the incident of FAS has remained the same over the years. Which indicates that it's only those pregnant women who have an addiction to alcohol (and thus won't/can't stop) who actually harm their baby.
There is no advice given to fathers who have violent tendencies that they shouldn't drink while their partner is pregnant because this could lead to harm to the baby. Instead, it's the women who are restricted in their diet, medicine and alcohol intake to such degrees that it's laughable. All the while being made guilty for every drop of alcohol consumed, for every remedy taken. The pregnant woman has become the property of society in a misguided attempt to protect the unborn life, while society is happy to ignore the real dangers to the unborn and born child.
I'll be off to have a glass a wine then.
Wednesday, 23 June 2010
Fair is relative
So I just about refrained from watching the budget announcement live. With about an hour delay, some parts of it were already being debated heatedly in my workplace, without the benefit/curse of certain omnipresent political commentators.
What struck me most was the comment that this budget is fair. It's an interesting term, one favoured in the election campaign by Labour, so I couldn't help but find it a bit out of place coming from our new government. I do like the rhetoric of it though, because yes, I believe in fairness for all, so bring it on.
So is it fair? There is of course also an argument about VAT. It's a tax that affects those on less income proportionately higher than those on higher incomes, because there are lots of items you simply have to buy. It is therefore a regressive tax and contributes to the situation in the UK where those on lower income pay a higher proportion of their income on tax than those on high incomes. This is a situation which I personally find appalling. On the other hand, I'm not entirely opposed to having a higher VAT rate for other reasons - mainly to reduce the ridiculous consuming that is going on in our world. Which has nothing to do with fairness of course.
I'm personally not too worried about seeing the Health in Pregnancy Grant go (though I still got it for this pregnancy and of course wouldn't not take it if offered) because I don't see a point in the general grant, which is given out from 25 weeks of pregnancy, when really, if you live unhealthily, it's too late. I also don't think a grant like this changes your diet or health in general. Because it's universal, people who don't need the extra support also get it, so fair enough, let it go.
I was pleased that the budget didn't go as far as getting rid of tax credits for family incomes of over 25K. Above 40k - well, I still think that many families, especially with more than one child under 5, in the 40-50k bracket really struggle to make ends meet, especially if they live in areas where house prices and mortgages are high. The problem is of course the cost of childcare - with £600- £800 per child full time, you need to earn a lot to make your work pay for this. My worry is that the tax credit cut combined with spending cuts in the public sector will translate to even less availability of non - private child care, so that it will hit working families with children really hard.
On the other hand, increasing the tax free allowance will help low income families (and potentially offset some of the tax credit loss for families), but of course it also means extra cash for higher earners and anyone without children. Now don't get me wrong, of course I feel that it's my duty to provide for children and I don't want everything paid for by the state, but because of the cost of childcare, even working parents on middle incomes will struggle to make ends meet. If I compare my lifestyle now with that as a childless person, I can only say that my disposable income has shrunk significantly. I'm in a well paid job, with a salary I never dreamt of when I left uni (admittedly, I was under ambitious), yet even on that salary, as a working parent, you don't go far. So I do see it as fair to have a tax free allowance per child which offsets the massive childcare costs a little bit, so that it's possible to work and have two children under 5 without making a loss. Work should pay for parents too. I don't see why childless people need an increase in tax free allowance. Honestly, I don't. A tax free allowance per child would be cheap to administer and directly offset child care costs incurred for working, thus encouraging parents to work too (which it seems is what all political parties want).
2bn were invested in the poorest families by increasing the child element tax credit to £150 above inflation, and I praise this wholeheartedly. It's not enough, but it's more than Labour did in their last budget. The only problem (see above) is that it's all taken back through the VAT rise... Shame really.
Considering that the VAT increase is going to hit the poorest harder, I would have expected some form of offset by a tax that hits the richest exclusively. However, the top rate tax rate has been fozen (boo) and apparently you don't have to pay tax on your rent income for holiday homes? Excuse me? Why not?
The announced cuts make me worry bad time, but they are hard to assess at this stage. What can be assessed is the ridiculous expectations of lone parents to take up work when their child starts school. For one, there aren't any jobs. For two, if you get a job, it sure won't offer flexible hours so you can be back home to pick up your child from school at 3pm, or take time off during school holidays or endless in service days. There are countless lone parents who want to work but have to give up their job (if they got one) in the summer because they don't have childcare for the holidays.
Finally, child benefit. So it's been frozen for 3 years. Which is not as bad as I thought the announcement might be - I had feared for it to be cut altogether. Still, my disappointment is great because once more, there was an opportunity to target a general benefit. While I appreciate that a universal benefit is easier to administer, I still think that families on high incomes don't really need this benefit if we are talking about necessary cuts. I'd rather see child benefit go up for struggling families and abolished for families with an income of say, over £75,000, than this half measure.
A fair budget then? What do you think?
What struck me most was the comment that this budget is fair. It's an interesting term, one favoured in the election campaign by Labour, so I couldn't help but find it a bit out of place coming from our new government. I do like the rhetoric of it though, because yes, I believe in fairness for all, so bring it on.
So is it fair? There is of course also an argument about VAT. It's a tax that affects those on less income proportionately higher than those on higher incomes, because there are lots of items you simply have to buy. It is therefore a regressive tax and contributes to the situation in the UK where those on lower income pay a higher proportion of their income on tax than those on high incomes. This is a situation which I personally find appalling. On the other hand, I'm not entirely opposed to having a higher VAT rate for other reasons - mainly to reduce the ridiculous consuming that is going on in our world. Which has nothing to do with fairness of course.
I'm personally not too worried about seeing the Health in Pregnancy Grant go (though I still got it for this pregnancy and of course wouldn't not take it if offered) because I don't see a point in the general grant, which is given out from 25 weeks of pregnancy, when really, if you live unhealthily, it's too late. I also don't think a grant like this changes your diet or health in general. Because it's universal, people who don't need the extra support also get it, so fair enough, let it go.
I was pleased that the budget didn't go as far as getting rid of tax credits for family incomes of over 25K. Above 40k - well, I still think that many families, especially with more than one child under 5, in the 40-50k bracket really struggle to make ends meet, especially if they live in areas where house prices and mortgages are high. The problem is of course the cost of childcare - with £600- £800 per child full time, you need to earn a lot to make your work pay for this. My worry is that the tax credit cut combined with spending cuts in the public sector will translate to even less availability of non - private child care, so that it will hit working families with children really hard.
On the other hand, increasing the tax free allowance will help low income families (and potentially offset some of the tax credit loss for families), but of course it also means extra cash for higher earners and anyone without children. Now don't get me wrong, of course I feel that it's my duty to provide for children and I don't want everything paid for by the state, but because of the cost of childcare, even working parents on middle incomes will struggle to make ends meet. If I compare my lifestyle now with that as a childless person, I can only say that my disposable income has shrunk significantly. I'm in a well paid job, with a salary I never dreamt of when I left uni (admittedly, I was under ambitious), yet even on that salary, as a working parent, you don't go far. So I do see it as fair to have a tax free allowance per child which offsets the massive childcare costs a little bit, so that it's possible to work and have two children under 5 without making a loss. Work should pay for parents too. I don't see why childless people need an increase in tax free allowance. Honestly, I don't. A tax free allowance per child would be cheap to administer and directly offset child care costs incurred for working, thus encouraging parents to work too (which it seems is what all political parties want).
2bn were invested in the poorest families by increasing the child element tax credit to £150 above inflation, and I praise this wholeheartedly. It's not enough, but it's more than Labour did in their last budget. The only problem (see above) is that it's all taken back through the VAT rise... Shame really.
Considering that the VAT increase is going to hit the poorest harder, I would have expected some form of offset by a tax that hits the richest exclusively. However, the top rate tax rate has been fozen (boo) and apparently you don't have to pay tax on your rent income for holiday homes? Excuse me? Why not?
The announced cuts make me worry bad time, but they are hard to assess at this stage. What can be assessed is the ridiculous expectations of lone parents to take up work when their child starts school. For one, there aren't any jobs. For two, if you get a job, it sure won't offer flexible hours so you can be back home to pick up your child from school at 3pm, or take time off during school holidays or endless in service days. There are countless lone parents who want to work but have to give up their job (if they got one) in the summer because they don't have childcare for the holidays.
Finally, child benefit. So it's been frozen for 3 years. Which is not as bad as I thought the announcement might be - I had feared for it to be cut altogether. Still, my disappointment is great because once more, there was an opportunity to target a general benefit. While I appreciate that a universal benefit is easier to administer, I still think that families on high incomes don't really need this benefit if we are talking about necessary cuts. I'd rather see child benefit go up for struggling families and abolished for families with an income of say, over £75,000, than this half measure.
A fair budget then? What do you think?
Monday, 21 June 2010
The bilingual home - our set up and daddy's role
On our bilingual journey I've so far focussed on Cubling and the minority language input, i.e. how her German is coming along. Because, to be fair, that's the difficult bit - her English is blossoming. And in response to Little M. question over at Mummy's Busy World in his bilingual corner, I thought it might be time to look at the bilingual household from the perspective of the non-bilingual member.
And of course I have to clarify from the outset that this is not quite the correct label for Mr Cartside, aka daddy. He is not monolingual - he speaks German though not fluently, but it's great in our little world because it does mean that when I speak German to Cubling, he doesn't feel totally excluded. So how does it all come together? Well, Mr Cartside and I always speak English with one another. No exceptions. I came to this country as a German teacher and I simply refused to perform that job at home as well as at work. So although Mr Cartside was a willing learner, I wasn't a willing teacher, and our pattern of communication is English only.
With Cubling being born, I found it really difficult being consistent with speaking German to her. In a one way communication, it's so easy to slip. I persisted, but it was hard work, especially because I used to be an au pair and all the baby vocabulary in my head was firmly Spanish and English, and definitely not German (e.g. I had to think about the German word for dummy...). But Mr Cartside heard me speak German, simple German. He listened to Cubling starting to speak simple German or a mix. His own assessment is that his German, particularly passive comprehension, has improved significantly - so he got something out of our bilingual household too! And for me, it does actually keep my German reasonably alive: I'm no longer a German teacher and don't get much opportunity to read, speak, write or listen to German, so my bilingual mission for Cubling is good for keeping my own language up too.
Quite early on, Mr Cartside also picked up German children's books. The nice thing about children's books is that they are so simple. Ideal for learning a language, just that normally you wouldn't be seen dead with them. Not so if your excuse is your adorable daughter. So while we do have a general distinction between Mummy and Daddy books, Daddy will sometimes read Mummy books in German, and Mummy will read easy Daddy books in instant translation. Those books are known as Mummy and Daddy books in our home.
Occasionally I will direct German sentences in the context of speaking to Cubling, to Mr Cartside and expect a German or English answer from him. While this may not be strict in terms of OPOL (one parent one language), I think it is useful in demonstrating that we aren't just monolinguals, but we all understand each other's language. It shows another use for German too (and I've also taught her some Spanish when in Spain, and she loves trying it out on people - she definitely gets that people can speak many and different languages).
I still feel that the ideal situation for supporting bilingualism would be if we spoke German at home - that would almost give a 50%/50% input of either language: English at nursery, German at home, English with Daddy, German with Mummy, one parent group English, another German. Where we fall short is the German at home (it's effectively English) and the German parent group which I simply don't have time for.
Our bilingual set up favours English, and English is the community language. OPOL has to be artificial because Cubling hears me speak to almost everyone in English. She knew from the word go that mummy can speak English, so of course she'll not worry too much about addressing me in English. I honestly don't think I can pretend not to understand her if she speaks English to me - she's not daft. I often don't even notice which language she uses. Her bilingualism mirrors how we ourselves favour English over German.
We've considered occasionally if we should introduce something like one hour a day where we speak German in the home, to support the minority language a bit better and provide additional context for the language. This would be particularly useful because I feel that the German input from my side is very biassed towards repetitive instructions, dealing with tired behaviour etc, rather than creative and open. The pitfall of a working mum who mostly sees her child tired at the end of the day. Mr Cartside feels ready for this now, because listening to me speak German to Cubling for over three years now, he feels more confident in the language himself.
And here's a little gem of a misunderstanding: When on an Easter egg treasure hunt, we had to find a coin in a particular room of a historic building. Coin is "Muentze" in German, so I asked Cubling if she could find a "Muentze" anywhere in the room. Excitedly she pointed at a painting with a lady on a horse. My confusion was soon resolved as she exclaimed: "Da is the Muetze!" (There is the hat!) The lady was indeed wearing a hat. Clever girl.
Thanks to Mr Cartside for providing his views on all of this, which I hope I've rendered correctly. If not, feel free to set me right in a comment xxx
And of course I have to clarify from the outset that this is not quite the correct label for Mr Cartside, aka daddy. He is not monolingual - he speaks German though not fluently, but it's great in our little world because it does mean that when I speak German to Cubling, he doesn't feel totally excluded. So how does it all come together? Well, Mr Cartside and I always speak English with one another. No exceptions. I came to this country as a German teacher and I simply refused to perform that job at home as well as at work. So although Mr Cartside was a willing learner, I wasn't a willing teacher, and our pattern of communication is English only.
With Cubling being born, I found it really difficult being consistent with speaking German to her. In a one way communication, it's so easy to slip. I persisted, but it was hard work, especially because I used to be an au pair and all the baby vocabulary in my head was firmly Spanish and English, and definitely not German (e.g. I had to think about the German word for dummy...). But Mr Cartside heard me speak German, simple German. He listened to Cubling starting to speak simple German or a mix. His own assessment is that his German, particularly passive comprehension, has improved significantly - so he got something out of our bilingual household too! And for me, it does actually keep my German reasonably alive: I'm no longer a German teacher and don't get much opportunity to read, speak, write or listen to German, so my bilingual mission for Cubling is good for keeping my own language up too.
Quite early on, Mr Cartside also picked up German children's books. The nice thing about children's books is that they are so simple. Ideal for learning a language, just that normally you wouldn't be seen dead with them. Not so if your excuse is your adorable daughter. So while we do have a general distinction between Mummy and Daddy books, Daddy will sometimes read Mummy books in German, and Mummy will read easy Daddy books in instant translation. Those books are known as Mummy and Daddy books in our home.
Occasionally I will direct German sentences in the context of speaking to Cubling, to Mr Cartside and expect a German or English answer from him. While this may not be strict in terms of OPOL (one parent one language), I think it is useful in demonstrating that we aren't just monolinguals, but we all understand each other's language. It shows another use for German too (and I've also taught her some Spanish when in Spain, and she loves trying it out on people - she definitely gets that people can speak many and different languages).
I still feel that the ideal situation for supporting bilingualism would be if we spoke German at home - that would almost give a 50%/50% input of either language: English at nursery, German at home, English with Daddy, German with Mummy, one parent group English, another German. Where we fall short is the German at home (it's effectively English) and the German parent group which I simply don't have time for.
Our bilingual set up favours English, and English is the community language. OPOL has to be artificial because Cubling hears me speak to almost everyone in English. She knew from the word go that mummy can speak English, so of course she'll not worry too much about addressing me in English. I honestly don't think I can pretend not to understand her if she speaks English to me - she's not daft. I often don't even notice which language she uses. Her bilingualism mirrors how we ourselves favour English over German.
We've considered occasionally if we should introduce something like one hour a day where we speak German in the home, to support the minority language a bit better and provide additional context for the language. This would be particularly useful because I feel that the German input from my side is very biassed towards repetitive instructions, dealing with tired behaviour etc, rather than creative and open. The pitfall of a working mum who mostly sees her child tired at the end of the day. Mr Cartside feels ready for this now, because listening to me speak German to Cubling for over three years now, he feels more confident in the language himself.
And here's a little gem of a misunderstanding: When on an Easter egg treasure hunt, we had to find a coin in a particular room of a historic building. Coin is "Muentze" in German, so I asked Cubling if she could find a "Muentze" anywhere in the room. Excitedly she pointed at a painting with a lady on a horse. My confusion was soon resolved as she exclaimed: "Da is the Muetze!" (There is the hat!) The lady was indeed wearing a hat. Clever girl.
Thanks to Mr Cartside for providing his views on all of this, which I hope I've rendered correctly. If not, feel free to set me right in a comment xxx
Sunday, 20 June 2010
Creatures: sea and air come to land
Next, on our visit to beautiful and very summery Largs, where we met up with some visiting friends, and let our mirror imaged bilingual preschoolers figure out what language to speak, we explored the seafront and came across tons of stranded jellyfish:
Saturday, 19 June 2010
I can feel a moan coming over me... oops, here it is.
Once again all the half written posts aren't getting written. Instead, I feel overwhelmed with life in general. Things aren't getting better and the prospect of 11 weeks of pregnancy ahead of me, 7 of them working almost full time, scare me. So what's wrong with me? Well I've already mentioned that I've been diagnosed as anaemic, which is not helping my mood or general feeling of exhaustion, but the real physical strain is that of constant dizziness when coming back up from toddler level. And I'm there a lot, because Cubling has copped on to the fact that I'm not very mobile. What I thought was a pulled muscle or ligament has turned into full blown SPD. I'm slow, but worse than that, every movement makes the pain worse.
So instead of long walks, aquanatal classes, swimming or yoga - even instead of gardening, I sit. And sit. And sit some more. My pain level is so directly related to daily activity that I know punishment is just around the corner. So I try to keep physical activity to a minimum, which isn't always possible, and sometimes I'm simply not prepared to sacrifice every fun activity to this relentless pain.
So today, although I was already sore upon waking from making this nice set of drawers for my crafty stuff which is currently piling up behind the dining room door (made from a very cheap and ugly IKEA unit;
we went to the local farmers market and moved on, via a swing park, to Bungo in the Back Lanes, a fabulous community backlane festival for the whole family, where residents let people into their back yards, sell second hand stuff, crafts, home baking and much more. It's a truly successful initiative, totally community run and simply a great day out. And great it was - such a perfect day for it, lovely sunshine but not too hot, lots of people but not too busy, and I love the way I always run into people for a wee chat. The only draw back was that they didn't get licence to sell alcohol this year, because it was getting too busy and successful and "security" wasn't high enough (as if anyone in Strathbungo was out to steal booze, come on, get serious you spoilsports).
Now I'm paying for the afternoon stroll and probably tomorrow too.
But that's find, I knew what I was doing. What's not so fine is the frustration of wanting to enjoy this summer, my girl before she has to share me, this pregnancy, the magic of it all, of growing a person, and all I can do is moan and wobble. Blooming? Me arse. I feel like snapping at everyone who tells me that I'm looking well (if you read this, please remember next time you see me and just don't) because I know I look horrible, can you not see those massive feet, my hobble walk, my wrinkles of pain inscribed on my face? My undone toenails because already I can't reach? My short temper with Cubling because she takes advantage and tests her boundaries at every opportunity knowing that she's faster than me? The dependency on my beloved, who really does all he can but can't take away the feeling of inadequacy that is slowly but surely taking over?
Above all, the prospect of this pain getting worse (as if it wasn't bad already) in the weeks to come is doing my head in. I had a different form of SPD last time. I know it gets worse and I got it much earlier this time. How on earth can I give birth like this?
And then I hear from other friends who are struggling for very different reasons and how everyone has their weight to carry and is trying to stay on even keel, and only just about managing (or maybe even not because don't we all try to keep up some appearance of keeping it all together?). I know that this pain at least is temporary, I will get through it, and the main thing is not to let it take over, to take delight in the little things that make me smile or happy.
Just sometimes it's harder than usual.
There are some sitting activities though: watching football, knitting and maybe (once I get through the chaos that is my craft corner) even sewing. And then there was another little something that really brightened up my day. Just some words, implicit, not even aimed at me, but so breaking the pattern of communication that I've been extremely worried about recently. Funny how just one positive can break the pattern of negatives.
And that is what makes me hopeful that I'll get through this phase of The Moan.
So instead of long walks, aquanatal classes, swimming or yoga - even instead of gardening, I sit. And sit. And sit some more. My pain level is so directly related to daily activity that I know punishment is just around the corner. So I try to keep physical activity to a minimum, which isn't always possible, and sometimes I'm simply not prepared to sacrifice every fun activity to this relentless pain.
So today, although I was already sore upon waking from making this nice set of drawers for my crafty stuff which is currently piling up behind the dining room door (made from a very cheap and ugly IKEA unit;
we went to the local farmers market and moved on, via a swing park, to Bungo in the Back Lanes, a fabulous community backlane festival for the whole family, where residents let people into their back yards, sell second hand stuff, crafts, home baking and much more. It's a truly successful initiative, totally community run and simply a great day out. And great it was - such a perfect day for it, lovely sunshine but not too hot, lots of people but not too busy, and I love the way I always run into people for a wee chat. The only draw back was that they didn't get licence to sell alcohol this year, because it was getting too busy and successful and "security" wasn't high enough (as if anyone in Strathbungo was out to steal booze, come on, get serious you spoilsports).
Now I'm paying for the afternoon stroll and probably tomorrow too.
But that's find, I knew what I was doing. What's not so fine is the frustration of wanting to enjoy this summer, my girl before she has to share me, this pregnancy, the magic of it all, of growing a person, and all I can do is moan and wobble. Blooming? Me arse. I feel like snapping at everyone who tells me that I'm looking well (if you read this, please remember next time you see me and just don't) because I know I look horrible, can you not see those massive feet, my hobble walk, my wrinkles of pain inscribed on my face? My undone toenails because already I can't reach? My short temper with Cubling because she takes advantage and tests her boundaries at every opportunity knowing that she's faster than me? The dependency on my beloved, who really does all he can but can't take away the feeling of inadequacy that is slowly but surely taking over?
Above all, the prospect of this pain getting worse (as if it wasn't bad already) in the weeks to come is doing my head in. I had a different form of SPD last time. I know it gets worse and I got it much earlier this time. How on earth can I give birth like this?
And then I hear from other friends who are struggling for very different reasons and how everyone has their weight to carry and is trying to stay on even keel, and only just about managing (or maybe even not because don't we all try to keep up some appearance of keeping it all together?). I know that this pain at least is temporary, I will get through it, and the main thing is not to let it take over, to take delight in the little things that make me smile or happy.
Just sometimes it's harder than usual.
(Cubling hiding from my camera behind a gingerbread man from the farmers market)
There are some sitting activities though: watching football, knitting and maybe (once I get through the chaos that is my craft corner) even sewing. And then there was another little something that really brightened up my day. Just some words, implicit, not even aimed at me, but so breaking the pattern of communication that I've been extremely worried about recently. Funny how just one positive can break the pattern of negatives.
And that is what makes me hopeful that I'll get through this phase of The Moan.
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
All I want is a log fire...
There's something about a log fire, don't you think? Ok, it may be down to hormones, I'm not one to arguing that, especially with my current lack of energy (which incidentally has a diagnosis, yes, it's pregnancy, would you believe it, or rather anaemia which is apparently quite common in pregnant vegetarians, now roll over black pudding).
But truly, don't you think there's nothing cosier than a log fire in your house on a cold and dreich Scottish winter night, especially when you'll be cuddling a newborn? Can you tell that summer hasn't quite arrived yet and I'm thinking of winter? Anyway, to elaborate on my top item of the nesting to do list, I want a log fire. Ideally a wood burning stove. In which I can burn the neighbour's massive tree which is keeping the sun out of our south facing bit of garden half of the 3 days that we have sun (of course I would never do such a thing or harm a tree, but jee, that tree is massive and would keep a log fire going for a winter or two).
My problem is that Glasgow is a Smoke Control Area. Apparently that means that you can't burn wood in the boundaries of Glasgow City Council. I've tried to follow this up but nobody in Glasgow City Council seems to be aware of this legislation or what it means in practice. Which in a way I'm sure means that if I were to burn wood, this would go relatively unnoticed. That's not the point though. What is then, I hear you ask. Well, the point is that wood is a sustainable source of energy - you can grow trees again and again. You can't grow coal (which is the fuel of choice that is smoke free and recommended for open fires in Smoke Control Areas).
It's not all that straight forward, thankfully. What with my fling with the Transition movement coming above me as it does every so often, I was rather agitated by the fact that a sustainable energy source was bad mouthed over a non-sustainable, carbon based resource. Yes, I know that in times gone by smoke from wood and other smoky fuels polluted the Glasgow air, destroyed buildings and killed people. But we're not talking unsafe and extensive burning of wood. I'm thinking along the line of wood stoves in the few houses that do still have an open, rather than a gas, fire. Such as ours. I feel the regulation is outdated and could be changed and I'm almost ready to challenge it. Just that, as I said, it's not that straight forward. Because, on closer inspection, it turns out that there are some wood burning stoves that are exempt (read approved) in relation to Smoke Control Areas. This means you can use them in Glasgow to burn wood. Hurray!
There's not many, so the choice isn't great, and I don't know if the approved stoves come with a hefty price tag. So there's a few points of attack for the Smoke Control Area regulations: get more wood stoves approved (apparently the standards for all are high enough to be exempt, but getting the stamp seems to be laborious or maybe expensive), change the Smoke Control Area regulation to generally allow wood burning stoves and other safe ways of burning wood, or redraw Glasgow City boundaries (we're awfully close to East Renfrewshire where you can burn wood...). Whoppie, I have 3 campaigns in one!
But truly, don't you think there's nothing cosier than a log fire in your house on a cold and dreich Scottish winter night, especially when you'll be cuddling a newborn? Can you tell that summer hasn't quite arrived yet and I'm thinking of winter? Anyway, to elaborate on my top item of the nesting to do list, I want a log fire. Ideally a wood burning stove. In which I can burn the neighbour's massive tree which is keeping the sun out of our south facing bit of garden half of the 3 days that we have sun (of course I would never do such a thing or harm a tree, but jee, that tree is massive and would keep a log fire going for a winter or two).
My problem is that Glasgow is a Smoke Control Area. Apparently that means that you can't burn wood in the boundaries of Glasgow City Council. I've tried to follow this up but nobody in Glasgow City Council seems to be aware of this legislation or what it means in practice. Which in a way I'm sure means that if I were to burn wood, this would go relatively unnoticed. That's not the point though. What is then, I hear you ask. Well, the point is that wood is a sustainable source of energy - you can grow trees again and again. You can't grow coal (which is the fuel of choice that is smoke free and recommended for open fires in Smoke Control Areas).
It's not all that straight forward, thankfully. What with my fling with the Transition movement coming above me as it does every so often, I was rather agitated by the fact that a sustainable energy source was bad mouthed over a non-sustainable, carbon based resource. Yes, I know that in times gone by smoke from wood and other smoky fuels polluted the Glasgow air, destroyed buildings and killed people. But we're not talking unsafe and extensive burning of wood. I'm thinking along the line of wood stoves in the few houses that do still have an open, rather than a gas, fire. Such as ours. I feel the regulation is outdated and could be changed and I'm almost ready to challenge it. Just that, as I said, it's not that straight forward. Because, on closer inspection, it turns out that there are some wood burning stoves that are exempt (read approved) in relation to Smoke Control Areas. This means you can use them in Glasgow to burn wood. Hurray!
There's not many, so the choice isn't great, and I don't know if the approved stoves come with a hefty price tag. So there's a few points of attack for the Smoke Control Area regulations: get more wood stoves approved (apparently the standards for all are high enough to be exempt, but getting the stamp seems to be laborious or maybe expensive), change the Smoke Control Area regulation to generally allow wood burning stoves and other safe ways of burning wood, or redraw Glasgow City boundaries (we're awfully close to East Renfrewshire where you can burn wood...). Whoppie, I have 3 campaigns in one!
Sunday, 13 June 2010
The Gallery: Motherhood
It is high time that I join The Gallery - how can you love photography and not take part? So here's my first timely contribution, hope you like the pictures as much as I do. They are very different, almost a ying and yang of motherhood:
There is the intensity of this little person, the intensity with which I discover a new world through her, and she through me, the intensity of this look may stand for it. As it does for the sheer joy we take in each other's company, the amazing discovery that this new relationship means to me. The intensity of emotion, of joy and worry, of love and fear.
Then there's the end of being in control of your actions, the sudden necessity of multitasking (especially if your daughter rather eloquently insists on being held AT ALL TIMES), and the resourcefulness of a mother to fit a bit of non-motherhood stuff around the new full time, nay 24/7, occupation. I like this photo for its sense of flotsam and jetsam, and the simultaneity of feeding, sleeping, holding and reading. An unkempt house, an unkempt mummy. Unkempt yet running with the flow of a new life. The normal chaos of motherhood. I spent many hours like this, feeding until Cubling drifted off to sleep, with my attitude changing from feeling tied to her all the time to seeing those feeding/sleeping hours as an opportunity for some me time (in the form of reading and blogging):
There is the intensity of this little person, the intensity with which I discover a new world through her, and she through me, the intensity of this look may stand for it. As it does for the sheer joy we take in each other's company, the amazing discovery that this new relationship means to me. The intensity of emotion, of joy and worry, of love and fear.
Then there's the end of being in control of your actions, the sudden necessity of multitasking (especially if your daughter rather eloquently insists on being held AT ALL TIMES), and the resourcefulness of a mother to fit a bit of non-motherhood stuff around the new full time, nay 24/7, occupation. I like this photo for its sense of flotsam and jetsam, and the simultaneity of feeding, sleeping, holding and reading. An unkempt house, an unkempt mummy. Unkempt yet running with the flow of a new life. The normal chaos of motherhood. I spent many hours like this, feeding until Cubling drifted off to sleep, with my attitude changing from feeling tied to her all the time to seeing those feeding/sleeping hours as an opportunity for some me time (in the form of reading and blogging):
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