Category Archives: Being a Mummy

Get The Baby Book Out – Adam’s First Ear Infection!

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So he has been coughing for a few days.  And then on Thursday I noticed he was batting at his ear.  So off to the GP on Friday morning.

Yup, slight ear infection, but much more concerned about the dry croupy cough.  So he has Amoxocillian.  Which smells vile and, I imagine, tastes worse based on his reaction.

I also set a new ‘mummy must change her clothes record’ on Friday.  You see, if he just does a bit of spit or saliva on my shoulder, I don’t bother to change.  But on Friday we had: –

  1. A pooh that went all the way up his back and when I was twisting him to get it all, rubbed it onto my shirt.  New shirt.
  2. A major spit up.  Not really a vomit, but enough that I felt damp. New shirt.
  3. Another major spit up. New shirt.
  4. Vomit.  Major major vomit.  Like a whole bottles worth. On me, himself, the sofa and the floor. Gave up on shirts, put on my PJs.
  5. Major major vomit 2.  New PJs.

Simon was home for that last one.  He kindly got me a towel. 🙂

He’s been much better today, all smiles and not batting at his ear as much, so I do believe he is feeling better.

And now, my most recommended baby accoutrement:  The Eezimed Baby Syringe.

Yesterday I Woke Up With Very Few Spoons

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What that means.

It actually started at about 330am when either I was awoken by Adam needing me or I woke Adam because I moaned in pain in my sleep.  My upper arms and my thighs hurt with every move.  I was having the worst Fibro flare I’ve had since having my son.

Lucky for me Adam settled back down after about a half an hour of playing ‘find me my dummy mummy’ and slept until 630.  That extra 2.5 hours helped a lot.

When Simon woke up for work at 7 I told him how much pain I was in.  Well, he could see it, as I limped around the flat and groaned as I reached for the peanut butter for breakfast.  He offered to stay home but it was really important to me to be able to take care of my son no matter what.  So Simon did bits of help (the most important being getting a coffee cup down for me!) and then headed off to work.

Adam and I had no plans yesterday, although I was hoping to walk up to the park.  Instead we stayed home.  He spent a lot more time in his bouncy chair than he normally would, but other than that, it was a normal day.  Right up to and including his 230 ‘I’m exhausted but I don’t want to sleep’ crank which can only be soothed by walking him around and singing silly songs to him until he’s so tired he falls asleep.

By around lunchtime I was feeling somewhat better, although I still couldn’t lift my arms over my head.  And I was exhausted.  I did ring Simon at one point and ask if he could even come home an hour early, it would help, but if he couldn’t, I’d continue to manage.

And manage I did.  My son was fed, dry, warm and happy.  Maybe he didn’t get as many snuggles as usual, but he still got tummy time on Mummy and Daddy’s bed while Mummy got dressed.  Maybe Mummy didn’t spend as much time  bouncing him on her knee as she usual does (he loves that) but she did sit next to him while he was in his chair and talked to him and tickled him.

When I got pregnant my family’s major concern was how I would cope with my mental health issues.  Mentally, I’ve been fine.  Oh sure, I’ve had sad days, who doesn’t?  And I’ve had some major anxiety and panic attacks.  But none of these have affected taking care of my son.

And yesterday I proved my Fibro doesn’t either.

I Would Like To Say, Right Up Front

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that I know Simon and I are incredibly lucky with how much Adam sleeps.  He’s always slept fairly well at night and he’s recently begun sleeping through from 730 or 8 to about 530 the next morning.

That being said…

I think Cry It Out sucks.  I think its a stupid idea and cruel.  I do not think it teaches a child to self sooth.  I think it teaches a child that no one is coming to comfort them, so why bother to cry?  My son? Self soothes.  He takes a pacifier that he spits out automatically when he’s fully asleep.  That is self soothing.

I became totally against Cry It Out when I heard a story from a mum on a board I used to frequent.  This mum told the story of her (approximately) 2 year old daughter crying in the middle of the night and the mum let her cry, because that’s what you do.  You let them cry.  They couldn’t possibly, at 2, need you for anything in the middle of the night.  Well, when she went to get her daughter the next morning the child and her cot were covered in dried vomit.  Whether the child had cried so much that she’d made herself sick or had cried because she had been sick the mum didn’t know.  Because she never once checked on her once she was in bed.

The story is bad enough.  What’s worse is the response of the other mothers on the board.  Who all told her that she had no way of knowing that her daughter had been sick and so she shouldn’t feel bad about leaving her to cry. What?!?!?!  Of course she could have known.  She could have taken a peak at her daughter and made sure she was okay, which she so obviously wasn’t.

Now you know one of the reasons why I don’t read at that board any more.

My next Cry It Out story is recent and I heard it long after I had made the decision to never let Adam Cry It Out.

Its Dooce’s story about Leta.  Now, you have to watch the Momervision video to find this out, because Dooce doesn’t mention it in the blog post, but its not just that they let Leta cry herself to sleep at 5 months.  Its that it took thirteen nights of her crying most of the night before Leta slept on the 14th night.  So for almost 2 weeks, Dooce and her husband left Leta lying in her crib, crying.  13 days of it.  How is that not cruel?  How is that teaching the child anything but that mummy is never coming to comfort her?

I do understand sleep deprivation.  Although Adam sleeps fairly well, he was still waking up at least once a night until, really, this past week.  And sleep deprivation isn’t just no sleep, its no consistent sleep.  Its never getting more than 3 or 4 hours in a row for day after day after day.

What I don’t understand is treating a child like that.  Of ‘teaching’ a baby that mummy isn’t coming, so you’d better just shut up and go to sleep.

I try to respect other’s parenting styles, I really do.  I don’t want anyone to judge me, so I try not to judge others.

But 13 days? Is entirely cruel.

And makes me wonder if that’s the real reason Dooce checked herself into the mental hospital not to long after she let Leta cry it out.  I’m not saying Dooce doesn’t have Mental Health Issues, lord knows I have enough myself.  I am saying that I think she set herself up for her crash.  By, yes, I am going to say it, the guilt she created by torturing her daughter.

Dooce will probably never read this.  She has no idea who I am.

But I’ve lost a little respect for her now.

And I’m happy for her that Margo is a better sleeper than Leta was.

Although Today Was Incredibly Hard and I am Exhausted

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it is days like today that make me grateful for 1 year of Maternity Leave.  In the States I am pretty sure I’d be back to work already.

Today was a day with an upset baby all day.  He was beyond cranky.  He was screaming crying off and on all day.

And all I could think was, God, what if he was with a babysitter or at a childminder?  Not only would they not have the time to sit on the sofa all afternoon and hold him, they wouldn’t have the patience.  Or the love.  Its something only a mummy would do.

Because that’s what I did.  I sat on the sofa all day, gazing at the internet and playing a game so my son could sleep in spurts between crying his eyes out.  He wasn’t hungry.  He was dry.  He was obviously a bit tired, since he kept falling asleep.  But mostly he was just being a baby.

I, of course, had to leave him to cry on occasion.  I needed the loo.  I needed to eat lunch.  I needed a break.  But mostly I sat here all day with my son in my arms, being miserable.

And when Simon I got home, he took over.  Adam ate a bit more for his Daddy, but not a lot.  And he had more moments of laughter.  But not many.  Daddy mostly did all evening what I did all day, hold on tight to a baby that was miserable for no discernible reason.

He might be teething, as his pacifier seemed to help.  I looked but I don’t see any teethy pegs yet.

And he went to bed for the night at the same time as he usually does.

So we’ll see what kind of night we have.

And tomorrow is another day.

My Day Off

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So yesterday, for the first time since Adam was born, I took myself shopping by myself for more than an hour in a row.

I left the flat at 11.  I bought a few necessary things at Boots.  And then I went shopping!

I wandered through Marks & Spencer’s with no one looking bored or getting whiny.

I wandered through all of Victoria Square Shopping Centre, including a stop for a long leisurely lunch and a stop in all the women’s departments at House of Fraser.

I spent 30 minutes choosing new notebooks at Paperchase.  30 minutes! And no one sighed at me!!

Then I went on a bra and knicker shopping spree at Debenhem’s.  None of my pre-pregnancy undies fit and I am sick and tired of shapeless already worn out maternity bras.  Just cuz I’m a mummy doesn’t mean I can’t have nice undies!

So it was a lovely day.  All to myself.

Man did I miss my little man!!!

So Today, I Was Waiting For the Lift

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in Marks & Spencer’s.  I had been picking up some lovely mushrooms for my mushroom and mustard pasta.  M&S is pricier than Tesco, but their mushrooms are much better.

In any event, as I was waiting there, with the pram, Adam contently asleep wrapped in his favourite blue blanket and I could see my reflection in the sign they have hanging there.  The sign tells  you what items are on what floor.  Our M&S has 4 floors, by the way.  Basement is where I was, where the food is.

Anyway, the sign is reflective and I could see myself.  As the lift was taking ages to get to the basement, I had a bit of time to look.  So first I looked at my clothes.  Little black ballet flats from Next, blue jeans from New Look, cheap Henley type long sleeved cream coloured pull over from Primark.   Hair barely brushed.  No make up.

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t the height of fashion.  Okay, maybe I should have brushed my hair a bit better before heading out.

But how do I think I looked?

The most contented and stress free that I have looked in years.

I wasn’t even impatient for the lift to arrive.  I didn’t even care that my hair was sticking straight up in parts, or that I really need another cut.

I was just enjoying being in M&S.  With  my lovely mushrooms.  And my lovelier son.  Heading home for lunch.  And a nap (for Adam, not me).

I never know, these days, what my day will bring.  Will I make it out of the house by 10, as planned?  Or will it be like today, when Adam was hungry, then not hungry, then wanted a sleep while I showered.  Then a bit hungry again.  That led to me not leaving until about 10:45.

And I didn’t care. Me, who hates missing a deadline.  Who hates running late.  Who hates not knowing what is going to happen next.

Is living a more or less schedule free life.

And loving it.

So, I Have A Dilemma

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I have recently realized that I have not bought any clothes that were not work related in about, oh 5 years.  I mean, I own jeans and leggings and things like that, but I don’t really own casual tops, sweaters, jumpers etc.  On weekends when I worked I would just wear a pair of jeans and one of my work tops.

And I have also realized that I have no idea what ‘style’ I am, as a stay at home mum. I am still not sure if this will be my permanent state, but it is certainly my state until the end of next May.  That’s a long time to have nothing to wear.

I know I want easy.  Easy clean.  Easy wear.  No ironing.

I know I want colour.  My days of wearing all black are past.  Well, except for professionally.   Nothing like 10 pairs of black trousers to get you through the work week! 🙂

I am actually contemplating picking up a fashion magazine.  Or making an appointment with a style consultant.

Or maybe, I’ll just have my day at the shops that Simon and I have been discussing.  One entire day all on my own to poke and try on and try to figure out what direction I shall go.

In my new career.

As a stay at home mum.

I Am About To Rant. You Have Been Warned.

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So I posted links to this Free Range Kids Blog Post about a 9 year left in a car to wait for mom and dad with her 6 year old sleeping sibling. Someone walking by called the police and CPS and Dad got arrested for child neglect.

I posted this in several places, deliberately.  The question I asked? Not, is it okay to leave a 9 year old and a 6 year old alone in a car in a busy car park.  Because the answer to that question is that it depends on the 9 and 6 year old.  No, I asked should it be a police matter if parents believe their 9 year old is able to watch their 6 year old sleeping sibling in a car.

Have now been told, over and over, that I am crazy to think that any 9 year old is mature enough to watch their sleeping sibling.  That I could not possibly know what a 9 year old is like, since Adam is only 11.5 weeks.  Oh and that for sure the dad should have been arrested for neglect.

Excuse me?

So what these people are telling me is that I am not allowed to make decisions based on my knowledge of my own child?  Obviously I do not yet know what Adam will be like as a 9 year old.  This does not mean that I do not think about the future and how I would react depending on how he is at that age.  This does not mean that I do not already know that I (and his father, obviously) plan to raise him as ‘free range’ as possible, depending on how he is and the situation.

But, apparently, there are people in the world who will assume he is abandoned, neglected, what have you because they see him in a situation that they think is dangerous. Without making sure it actually is.

And the scenarios they’ve come up with as to why its dangerous?  Well, at least it wasn’t kidnapping fears.  It was, the 9 year old might get bored and play with the car controls.  Or the 6 year old might wake up and ignore what the 9 year old says.

Gee, I don’t know.  I think if I thought my 9 year old was capable of staying in the car with the 6 year old, I would be pretty sure that the 9 year old wouldn’t play with the car controls and I would be pretty damn sure that the 6 year old would listen to the 9 year old.

I was also told that that was ridiculous.  That no 6 year old would ever listen to a 9 year old.

My mind boggles.

I don’t care how you raise your kids.  Get off my back about how I raise mine.

BTW, these are the same people who are amazed when they read stories about university students who can’t interact with professors without parental intervention.  And recent graduates whose parents call to check up on job interviews.

I guess they don’t realize that this is exactly the kind of kid they just might be raising.

Baby Brain, I Think Its Catching…

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So, every Monday night Simon and I have groceries delivered for the week.  This means that on Sunday we figure out what we want to eat Tuesday through Friday and order ingredients accordingly.

This morning I began pulling the items out to make tonight’s Chicken Cacciatore, so I could prep veggies while Adam was being happy in his bouncy seat.  Then I would just have to bung them and some chicken into the slow cooker at lunch time and 6 hours later, dinner would be on the table.

So I am rummaging through my veg drawer and I realize Tesco had sent me 4 onions.  ‘Why four onions?’ I said out loud.

Simon said ‘What are we having this week?’

‘Chicken Cacciatore, Chicken Casserole, Goulash, Veggie Lasagne and…wait, what’s the fourth thing?’ I replied.  ‘Chicken Cacciatore, Chicken Casserole, Goulash, Veggie Lasagne and…’ I repeated.

‘Check the ingredients we have.’ Simon suggested, ‘and that will tell you the fourth thing.’

Can you see what we both did there?  Both of us?

That’s right, for the non-baby brained out there…I was naming four things. And Simon was agreeing right along with me that I was missing one.

Once it occurred to me, just a few minutes later, how stupid we were, I then still couldn’t figure out why I had four onions.

It just occurred to me 10 minutes ago.  Because all four things have an onion in them.

Simon says his excuse was that he was on night duty last night and what was mine?

Baby Brain.

And I think its catching…

Yesterday’s Story Actually Had Two Morals

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One is the already listed: take a shower when the opportunity arises.

The other is to always, always, have the diaper bag packed and ready to go!  And I always do.

Yesterday was a pretty good day.  I got my hair cut and coloured.  Simon, Adam and I did some shopping.  I had a nice nap in the afternoon.

Today? Not such a good day.

Started with a Night from Hell (TM).  Adam went down about 2230.  And woke up at 0030.  And up again at 0230.  At 0500. At 0700.  At that point I woke Simon up and handed him over and headed back to bed.

Then the rest of today he just would.not.sleep.  Not for more than 20 minutes at a time, at least.  Not in his pram when Simon took him out to the shops so I could have a break and soak in the tub.  Not in my arms while swaddled in his favourite blanket (can an almost 8 week old baby have  favourite blanket? Not sure, but the one Grandma and Pops with the Pool sent is definitely the best for swaddling).  Not even in the Bjorn which got him to sleep for about 3.5 hours on Thursday during our Great Adventure.  He finally fell asleep about an hour ago at 2030.  And I hear sounds of stirring.  Which could be good, as my dream night goes like this, starting at about 2200: –

Nappy Change

Into Grobag/PJs

Bottle

Sound asleep for 5+ hours.

Hey, a Mummy can dream. 🙂