Category Archives: Thoughts

I May Have Ranted About This Before

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but I am going to rant about it again!

I take two meds for my mental health issues; Xanax, for anxiety and Trazodone for depression.

Each of these meds has been mentioned on TV shows I watch.  And misrepresented.

Trazodone was mentioned on NCIS once.  Abbey claimed that someone on it would be so knocked out by it there was no way they could have killed themselves.  Not necessarily true.  Yes, it makes you sleepy.  But I take it every night, granted at a low dose for the moment, and still wake up fully as soon as my little man needs me.  Perhaps at massive doses you’d be completely knocked out.  But I used to take a much larger dose and it still didn’t make me incoherent when woken up from it.

Xanax was mentioned on West Wing.  Abbey (heh, both characters are named Abbey.  I just realized this!) takes a Xanax in front of Leo.  Leo gives her a lecture on addiction and meds, comparing Xanax to Valium.  Um, not the same thing.  At all.  Yes, Xanax is addictive.  Yes, you have to wean yourself off it. No, it will not put you into rehab.  You see, with Valium, you have to keep upping the dose to get the same effect.  This is not true with Xanax.  When you find what dose works for you, you can stay at the dose forever and it will continue to work for you.  And as Abbey was taking it as needed (a very common occurrence with Xanax) she probably never took more than .25mg. A teeny tiny dosage.

So, listen up TV people.  Maybe it makes better drama to give NCIS a reason to suspect suicide was actually murder and to make it seem like the First Lady was going to be a drug addict.  But it does nothing for the image of mental illness.

The key word there, you see, is illness.  It is an illness. Whether anxiety, depression, MPD, schizophrenia or what have you.  The person is ill.  My mental illness is just as much a treatable illness as my diabetes.

And I work hard to treat both of them.

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.

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.

So, I Once Swore I Wouldn’t Use

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Facebook or MySpace or any other social networking site because they were stupid.

I was wrong.

Sure, people can take them much too seriously.  Just like message boards.

But what I am finding really really neat is the way my friends are interconnecting just because they all know me.

Example:

My status said: How does a 2 month old get dirt under his fingernails? Has he been gardening when I’m not looking?

I received two responses.  My friend Margo said if he was gardening send him her way to help her.  Then my friend Teresa said and after he’s done at Margo’s send him to me.

Margo and Teresa have never met.  Will never meeting.  Are in no way connected except that they both know me.  Margo lives in the UK.  Teresa in the US.  I know Margo through one message board, Teresa through another.

There have been other, more involved conversations amongst people on my friends list in response to my status updates.  I find it fascinating.

People also ask me if all 114 people listed as my friends are actually people I know.  Most of them are.  Recently I have added people I don’t really know because I play a few Facebook games where you get further in the game the more people you friend who also play the game.  So I have responded to some requests on some message boards to be friended for that purpose. The games are Farm Town and Farmville if anyone wants to neighbour me!!

But that’s about 10 people out of 114.  Have I met them all in real life? Nope.  But they are really my friends.  People I speak to daily via various venues.  Or they are my family!  Ya know, people I’m related to via blood or marriage!

And through them I speak to people I would never have had met.  And they do the same through me.

It ain’t called the World Wide Web for nothing…

I Never Write About Celebrities On Here

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There are plenty of blogs who do that.

And I never grieve when a celebrity dies.  I didn’t know them, why grieve?  I feel bad for their families, but you will never find me crying over a celebrity death.

But John Hughes’ death I am grieving over.

Not just because it means part of my teenagehood just died.  Not really.  But because of what that part of my teenagehood meant to me.

I was, to put it midly, a disturbed teenager.  Angry, anxious, obnoxious.  Rude, sarcastic.  Mean.  Horrible to my parents, my siblings.  To everyone.

But sit down and watch a John Hughes flick? And it all went away.  In his movies the geek was cool.  The not so popular girl got the big footballer player as her boyfriend.  The cool car was available for driving.  Pure 100% escapism for all of us angsty teenagers.

There is a reason the Brat Pack did so well.  And, in some cases, are still doing so well.  They spoke to us.  Through John Hughes’ words and direction they were us.  Doing what we did. Or wished we could do.

Go to YouTube and you’ll see what I mean.  Since his death was annouced there have been 100s of tribute videos posted.  With snippets of his movies. With stills.  With the music. He touched a generation.

My generation.

RIP Mr John Hughes.  Your legacy will live forever.

Excuse me now.  I have to go put every movie he ever made on my LoveFilm list now.

So, He Did Crack A Rib

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along with his head.  And he’s over 12 lbs.  And 22 inches.  My big boy!

He’s also having some colic, which is less than fun.

But he’s still adorable. 🙂

In other random news…just asked my mother how weird it is that the ages of her grandchildren run from so young they still get up in the night to eat to so old that they can fly across the country with their brother and girlfriend to pick up a car to drive back across.  She said its very weird!  In case your wondering, the age range is 6.5 weeks to nearly 21!!

Let’s Talk About Swine Flu

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Or rather? Let’s not.

Why?

Because it should be a non-story.  Instead its everywhere.  And its totally irresponsible reporting on behalf of all the news outlets in the UK.  Possibly the US as well, but I don’t know about that.

The information is contradictory, the headlines have been proven to be misleading over and over again.  And all it is doing is causing mass panic.

I believe 100% in freedom of the press.  I don’t believe 100% in bad reporting.

Sample? Okay.

Some major big wig doctor here in the UK said something along the lines of ‘there will be between 2,000 and 65,000 deaths.  Which, overall, is less than the regular flu.  And don’t quote me as saying “there will be 65,000 deaths.”‘  The next day’s headline in The Times? 65,000 Deaths Expected from Swine Flu

Another doctor said there might be 100,000 new cases every day during the worst of it.  The news blurb I heard the next morning on BBC? ‘100,000 new swine flu cases a day.’  As if it was happening that way right now.

Its causing panic.  Its scaremongering.  And its confusing people.

Pregnant women should avoid crowds? Really? Define a crowd.

Small children should be kept away from nursery and school?  Really? Define small child.  And if that small child has an older sibling, who could bring the flu home with them, then what do you do? And who watches the small child? Perfectly healthy Mum and Dad who won’t get paid if they take time off ‘just in case’?  Who may need that paid time off later, if small child does get the flu?

So what are we doing around here about it?

Nothing.

Because, let’s face it.  Its the flu.  Its in the air.  Not going to school/work/out to the mall isn’t going to stop others from bringing it to you.  Its everywhere at this point.  The mail man may bring it.  The grocery delivery man.  Your husband as he comes home from work.

Pandemic does not mean OMG WE’RE ALL DONNA DIE!!  It means world wide.

Try to remember that, okay?

Some Responses and Other Stuff…

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Hazel – That is actually a cardi the SCBU had.  I have no idea if it was actually hand knit!

Anna – Various people were being very agressive about getting my milk to come in.  But Adam is thriving on Cow and Gate.  And that’s all that matters.

In other stuff…I just found out that a very good friend of mine, an ex-lover in fact, died last year.  Ron and I were together for about a year.  He was 26 years older than me.  He was a gentleman through and through.

RIP Ron.  You will be missed.  And BTW, in case you  missed it…I had my fat happy baby.

Breastfeeding…

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So, I wanted to breastfeed my son.  Not just because of all of the ‘breast is best’ propaganda around these days, but because it seems like a lovely way to feed a baby.  All that snuggling and skin on skin contact while giving my son his very best start, what could be bad with that?

So from the start, my very first appointment with a midwife, they asked me how I intended to feed my baby.  And I always answered, with no hesitation ‘breast’.  I knew there could be issues, that the art, if you will, of breast feeding has been lost some where along the way but that millions of women were doing it.  And I really wanted to.

And then he was born.  And wouldn’t even do a first feed in recovery due to his breathing.  And then he taken away from me within hours to be put in SCBU.  So I started hand expressing and did get a few milliliters of colostrum for him.  Which he took through a tube.

And then I got an electric pump while I was in hospital.  And I hooked myself up, every 3 hours, including round the clock.  And still only got a few drops.

So I started on the wives tales.  Fennel Tea.  Lactation Cookies.  More expressing. Sitting looking at him.  Smelling him.

And still I never expressed more than about 10 ml every 3 hours.  Not even close to enough to feed my hungry son, who by the end of his first week was up to 60 – 90 ml (90 ml is about 3 oz) every  3 – 4 hours.  My milk has just never come in.

And so I made the decision.  Cow and Gate via bottle.  I cried and agonized over this decision.  I fretted and worried.  What kind of mother can’t feed her son?

And then I realized I could feed my son.  I know formula isn’t the same as breast milk, no matter what it says on the tin.  But its keeping his tummy full.  And he is very healthy, according to the Health Visitor who was around yesterday.  And he’s content (well, as content as an 11 day old baby ever is 🙂 ).

What really angers me is other people’s reactions. I’m sorry if to you I’m not a complete Mummy because I am not breastfeeding.  But when eating time becomes a battle of wills? Not good for Mummy or Baby.

And it angers me the lack of support that some women show other women for their choices.  For their failures, if you will.  There are no pefect mummies.  Everyone makes choices for their children.  And all over the world women judge other women for those choices.

And the judging is not just over breast versus bottle.  Its disposable versus reusable.  Public school versus home schooling.  Free Range versus total watching.

And none of these issue, and many others, have a right or a wrong answer.  And yet we all judge each other about them every day.  And it needs to stop.

We are all mummies together.  We all have one common goal, to raise our kids to be the very best human beings they can be, or I hope that is the overall goal for all mummies.  I know it is my goal!

And if it isn’t your goal? I can respect that.  And support you in that.

Can you do the same for me?