Some of You Might Have Noticed

I have removed the British Mummy Bloggers badge from the site and am now a part of Mumsnet Bloggers Network.

I have to say I was getting nothing out of BMM. I found their message boards unwieldy and, to be honest, the topics sort of boring. I haven’t officially un-joined, but I haven’t posted over there in about a year, so I’ve moved on.

Mumsnet, on the other hand…

I’ve been a member over there since about October 2008, or just after I found out I was pregnant. A good friend of mine already posted there and I asked her if it was worth it. Hell yes she said!

And she was right. From the ‘Born in June 2009′ thread to the ’40 Towers, Mums over 40’ to ‘The One Child Tea Room’ I have found my home from home. I also post on other discussions. There is always something going on, I like the format and I have fun.

And now they are forming a bloggers network.

So what do MN bloggers blog about?

Being mums. Running companies. Throwing parties. Taking care of ageing parents. Living in Switzerland.

Basically the same things the rest of us blog about.

But now we have a badge! And our own thread on MN!

So if you belong to MN and have a blog? Apply to join us. We love reading blogs nearly as much as we love writing them!!

My Greatest Fear

I can’t link to it, because of The Times paywall, but Melanie Reid’s Spinal Column in today’s Times Magazine really hit home.

Her bio from the magazine says “Times columnist Melanie Reid broker her neck and back last year. Now back home after 12 months’ rehab in hospital, this week she reflects on her changing role as wife and mother.”

She currently can’t walk and can barely use her arms. She is trying very hard to walk again. But the thing that frustrates her the most? The loss of her hands. She says “I can cope with being in a wheelchair; what cripples me is my numb, clawed fingers.”

Oh yes. That is what scares me. That the arthritis in my hands will become so bad that I won’t be able to use them. Won’t be able to type or write or, some day, drive again.

Melanie’s son is in University, but she still laments that she can’t help him as she used to. He rings, during exams, looking for help with a headache and a lack of food. And instead of being able to jump in her car and bring him migraleave and some food, she talks to him on the phone.

My son still needs nappies changed and picking up and helping with getting dressed. Some of those things will pass soon, but some will go on for years yet. What if my hands stop me from doing them? I already can’t play with him as much as I would like as I can’t sit on the floor for long because of my legs. How much more will I have to hand over to someone else if I lose my hands as well?

I already get frustrated with opening packets, jars, sometimes even the milk jug as my fingers refused to grip them hard enough to turn. I have items that help, rubber mats and things, but sometimes stubborn me would rather keep trying, to deny that I can’t do it, then spend the minute to dig them out of their drawer.

And, of course, I have Simon. Who always comes right to me if I say ‘Can you open the milk, my hands are quite bad today.’ But I hate having to ask.

And, let’s not forget, I am a graphic artist. Yes, I use a mouse not a pen and paper, but what if I lose even that ability? Terry Pratchett, world famous Disc World author, turned to voice recognition software when he began to show signs of Alzheimer’s disease, including some neurological issues with his hands. I don’t think the same would work for a graphics. How to you speak your graphic thoughts out loud?

So it worries me. The possible loss of my hands.

But, like so many things in my life, there is nothing I can do about it. If they stop working, I’ll cope. I’ll cope as I always do.

But I’ll hate every minute of it.

Random Thoughts From City Centre

Tour guide saying ‘Belfast is a town of religious balance’ is the ultimate in irony as half of city centre closes for a bomb alert.

Oh, you poor dear. Your son is adorable but just because my son is nearly 2 does not mean he sleeps through all the time. Enjoy your 8 week old. And don’t worry about him grizzling. My two year old screamed through most of Tesco today.

The choice was between 2 bottles for £5 and a bottle for £4.99 that said the vineyard was started by the Knights Templar. Knights Templar bottle won, hands down.

No chocolate tarts available yet at Spring Continental Market. Chocolate Belgian Waffles acquired instead.

Speaking of which, I swear they were 3 for something last year, like £2 each or 3 for £5. Now they are either £2 or £3 each. Yes, we have 2 providers of Belgian Waffles in Chocolate this year. And 2 ice cream stalls. Oh and a candy floss stall.

Adam’s screaming fit was due to Castle Court not being open so he couldn’t go to the play area and/or ride the lift. How do you explain bomb threats and security alerts to a 2 year old?

There was an H&W ship called Traffic?!?

I Am In A Mood

There are several things I don’t normally discuss; politics, religion and feminism being the top 3.

But I am 100% tired of people using feminism as an excuse to hate men or sex or the sexualization of women or whatever the hell it is this week.

Hooters has come to the UK/Europe. And people are appalled. Those poor, downtrodden women, showing their boobs.

Hello? Is someone forcing them to work there? Is Hooters part of the slave trade and no one knows?

Of course not.

But to the militant feminists as soon as you show some cleavage or enjoy an occasional wolf whistle you must be a sexist or anti-feminism.

I am neither.

However, I also do not want to be equal. I am a member of the superior gender and know it. I am a cis female 100% and love being such a person. Why would I want to lower myself to the level of men? (I don’t hate men, either. I love men. My husband is a man. Some day my son will be one as well.)

I like being whistled at. I like being admired.

True, I don’t wear make up all that often or anything other than jeans. But that has nothing to do with feminism and everything to do with lifestyle and choice.

Our ancestors fought for equal rights so that I can be the kind of woman I am. And so you can be the kind of woman you are.

Just like our ancestors fought for the right for us to choose not to vote.

Same thing.

So you cower in the corner and be offended by sexuality in public.

I’ll stand over here and enjoy it.

Today I Had My First Ever Full Body Massage

It was a Christmas gift from my parents in law.

I was apprehensive because I have a hard time with back massages. I find people touching my back, unless I know them very well, annoying and I have never had a back massage that I enjoyed. Now, none of those were by professionals, so I gamely went on (to my favourite spa) to have it done.

I also find it hard to relax, even though the atmosphere at the spa is well set up for that, whenever I go for a treatment. Quiet to me means time to think and I have a hard time shutting my brain off. I start to write my blog entry, I think about work I need to do, wonder what Adam is up to. This time was no different.

I also had a hard time when lying on my stomach, breathing through the head rest thing. I almost never lie on my stomach  because I always feel like I can’t breathe, so it took me a few minutes to get through that.

The massage itself was, I guess, good. I have nothing to compare it to, obviously. But I still didn’t like how it felt on my back. I just don’t like it when people mess with my back. I loved the leg/foot/arm/hand part. And the scalp part was really weird since I’m used to having that done when my hair is wet! It was like my hair was crackling under her fingers!

Also this afternoon once at home I am stiffer than I have been in awhile.

So I am thinking massage is not for me.

Next time I’ll have a facial!

Simon and I agree

Less leftover cheese after it’s grated for quesadillas is a small price to pay for such a lovely little man in our lives!

It used to be that I’d grate the cheese and then give Simon a big hunk of leftovers. Now he and Adam split the big hunk and get a small hunk each.

We realized this when Simon was on the phone when I was handing out said cheese.

Simon came back into the kitchen and said, ‘Is this for me?’ pointing to the hunk on the cutting board.

‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Adam already has his.’

And then I continued ‘You used to get more, before there was Adam.’ with a big grin.

Simon grinned back and said ‘I was just thinking that.’

Subtext – glad to have less cheese and an Adam!

On Sitting In The Dark

I am writing this on my iPhone, in the low light in Adam’s room, trying to settle him in his cot.

It’s Saturday night and I used to spend this time with my husband, drinking wine and watching movies. Now I spend it waiting for a small boy to be asleep enough to go in his cot.

This is what mummies do. They give up their wine drinking and movie watching to make sure their small people settle well into their beds.

Adam is ill again so any thoughts Simon and I had of trying to get him to settle himself are on hold until he is well. If he’s ever well.

So I sit, with my small boy on my lap, trying to move him into his cot every 15 minutes.

Eventually it might even work.

Let’s See, What Is There To Blog About?

How about the fact that I walked about 7 miles yesterday, just going about my business?

Or the fact that Adam is back on banana goop for yet another infection?

No?

Um…

How about that, according to Mumsnet, or at least a thread on there, the world is suppose to end on 15th November, I think it is?

Here’s what I have to say about that; which time zone?  If it’s scheduled to end on 15th November, is that GMT? UST? Zulu?

Cuz I’d like to be prepared.

The Big News In Chonic Pain This Week

Is that The Spoon Theory is now available in several languages.

While I 100% agree with The Spoon Theory, I do think it leaves some things out.  Like the fact that there are ways to preserve your spoons, when necessary.

How?

Well, take the dinner I made last night; meatloaf, champ and broccoli cheese.  Each of these things take some spoons in their own right as they require me to use my arms to mix, and my arms are my area of greatest pain.  Meatloaf gets mixed by hand, champ needs the potatoes mashed, which I prefer to do by hand, and broccoli cheese requires about 5 minutes of constant stirring to get the cheese sauce nice and thick.

And I knew I didn’t have the spoons to do all of that.

So I compromised and mashed the potatoes in the food processor.  If you do this wrong they come out gloopy due to the starch being over processed, so its a bit fiddly.  But much easier on my spoon reserve.

I take pride in serving my family fresh homemade food at least 5, more likely 6, nights a week.  Which takes spoons.

So I use gadgets to help.

And the champ wasn’t gloopy at all.

And if Adam had eaten any more broccoli cheese, he would have turned green. 🙂