The antidote to domestic organisation

Stolen from Mal.

1. Put Your iTunes/Ipod/MP3 Player on shuffle
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write down the name of the song no matter how silly it sounds!
4. Put any comments in brackets after the song name.

If someone says 'Is this okay?' what do you say?
Sofa Song - The Kooks

How would you describe yourself?
Viva La Vida - Coldplay

What do you like in a guy/girl?
All these things that I've done - The Killers

How do you feel today?
Saving My Face - KT Tunstall

What is your life’s purpose?
All you need is love - The Beatles

What's your motto?
These Are The Lies - Galapagos

What do your friends think of you?
Lust For Life - Iggy Pop

What do you think of your parents?
Who Needs Sleep - the Barenaked Ladies

What do you think about often?
Scar Tissue - Red Hot Chili Peppers

What is 2 + 2?
god Put A Smile Upon Your Face - Mark Ronson et al

What do you think of your best friend?
Walking After You

What do you think of the person you like?
Lady of the Sea (Hear Her Calling) - Seth Lakeman

What is your life story?
Bit Part - The Lemonheads

What do you want to be when you grow up?
Losing My Religion

What do you think of when you see the person you like?
Shiver - Coldplay

What will you dance to at your wedding?
I Get a Kick out of you - Jamie Cullum (LOL!)

What will they play at your funeral?
Soul Man - Sam & Dave (if this had been the previous question, it would actually have been correct!)

What is your hobby/interest?
Swing Swing - American Pie soundtrack (waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!)

What is your biggest fear?
Glamourous Indie Rock and Roll - the Killers

What is your biggest secret?
Teenagers - My Chemical Romance

What do you think of your friends?
Daughters - John Mayer

What will you post this as?
End of a Century - Blur

1. Have you ever been searched by the cops?
Sadly no.

2. Do you close your eyes on roller coasters?
The only time ever was the front row on Nemesis in a thunderstorm. I wanted to keep my eyes open, but I just rain pelting into them, so had to keep them closed. Which actually made it scarier. Wanting to keep my eyes open but not being able to them!

3. When is the last time you cried?
Numerous times recently (hormonal, I now cry when happy, which is a lot). Last time I properly howled was when I had problems feeding Mal Jr when he was about 5 weeks old.

4. Would you rather sleep with someone else, or alone?
I'd rather sleep in a bed with Mal. When he's away on business I usually have a bad night's sleep. It's the whole feeling protected thing I think.

5. Do you believe in ghosts?
Yeah. Think I might have seen one once. It was friendly.

6. Do you consider yourself creative?
Yes! I can sew, knit, sing, play instruments, cook, bake, write... I'd happily give up work and be flaky (motherhood is just a convenient excuse!)

7. Do you think O.J. killed his wife?
Beyond reasonable doubt, no. On balance of probability, yes.

8. Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie?
Jennifer Aniston. She's a bit more realistic (i.e. Not a skellington)

9. Do you stay friends with your ex?
I think there is only one I don't speak to still. He virtually stalked me for a while. Hell, I'm married to one of my exes, lol.

10. Do you know how to play poker?
Sort of.

11. Have you ever been awake for 48 hours straight?
Erm... Almost. When Mal Jr was on his way here... I was awake from 5am Thursday to 11pm Friday. That's 42 hours... I think that's the longest.

12. What's your favorite commercial?
The tap-dancing grouse.

13. What are you allergic to?
Erithromycin and Cats.

14. If you're driving in the middle of the night, and no one is around do you run red lights?
Nope.

15. Do you have a secret that no one knows but you?
No. I am rubbish at keeping secrets.

16. Boston Red Sox or New York Yankees?
Red Sox only because my brother lives in Boston.

17. Have you ever been Ice Skating?
Yes - I'm not too bad either.

18. How often do you remember your dreams?
Whenever I have one that I remember.... that's a bit of a circular question

19. When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried?
When a friend told me that her 3-year old son had said "for fuck's sake shut up Barney you bastard dinosaur" one morning.

20. Can you name 5 songs by The Beatles?
Yeah, course I can. Help, Lovely Rita, Ticket To Ride, Yellow Submarine, Yesterday.

21. What's the one thing on your mind now?
Please go to sleep, baby. I could really do with some sleep myself...

22. Name 5 things you did today?
Walked to town, walked home, went shopping with a friend, did some sewing, gave the dog a hug.

23. Do you always wear your seat belt?
Yes, people who don't tend to die quite a lot in accidents. I want to live.

24. What mobile service do you use?
The red one.

25. Do you like Sushi?
yes, and I can eat it left-handed while feeding a baby

26. Have you ever narrowly avoided a fatal accident?
Yes - front seat passenger in rolled car. Dad driving, fence post came in through windscreen narrowly missing my face.

27. What do you wear to bed?
PJs. Nice ones.

28. Been caught stealing?
Yes. Stealing condensed milk from the tin my mother occasionally had in the fridge at home. I found out that my brother was also stealing it but never used to get caught, I always got the blame! Git!

29. what shoe size do you have?
I have a variety of shoe sizes - 6, 6.5, 7, 39, 39.5, 40.

30. Do you truly hate anyone?
No. Hate is a waste of my emotions. Life's too short.

31. Classic Rock or Rap?
Rock. I am a Rockstar wife don'tcha know...

32. If you could sleep with one famous person, who would it be?
Damon Albarn. Teenage crush.

33. Favorite Song?
Oh I have so many I couldn't narrow it down.

34. Have you ever sang in front of the mirror?
Yes. Hairbrush and everyfink.

35. What food do you find disgusting?
Liver. Kidney. It mings.

36. Do you sing in the shower?
No, because I never take showers. Always baths.

37. Did you ever play, "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours"?
No.

38. Have you ever made fun of your friends behind their back?
Not very often - I'm usually taking the piss out of myself before anyone else can.

39. Have you ever stood up for someone you hardly knew?
Probably.

40. Have you anything else to add to this meme?
Daddy or chips?

And how totally different it will be! I'm writing this as Mal takes the Christmas tree down, Buddy is at the top of the stairs (views all boxes as open coffins- there's a cardboard box that the tree will be packed into) and Mal Jr is on the floor in his playgym.

I've had a lovely 2 weeks of Christmas and New Year. Mal has been off work all this time and I will really miss him when he goes back.

My goals for 2009 are:

To feed Mal Jr until 6 months so then I can train to be a Breastfeeding Counsellor.
To do small crafty-style things and put them on ebay to make some cash.
To get the house in order (dishwasher out of the dining room and plumbed in where it should be!)
To help Buddy to be a little less nervous
To become a better photographer
To lose the baby-lard. Around about 2 stone would be ideal. I don't want to be skinny, just the size I was before Mal Jr occupied parts of me.

I think that's enough to be getting on with now.

Happy New Year!

It has been far too long. I should own up to what I look like.

...but the feeding thing is finally getting there.

Mal Jr is porking out nicely, and I no longer have to sink my teeth into a leather watch strap when he decides it's time for a nosh and attaches himself like a limpet to my boobs.

Breast-fed babies are supposed to put on 6oz per week. Mal Jr put on 12oz last week, the little porker.

I nickname him the piglet because he looks all pink and contented after a feed. He also squeals like one because when he arrived into the world he had the cord round his neck - twice. And tightly. So tightly in fact, that it has damaged his larynx a little, so when he breathes in sharply or under strain (usually when feeding) he hoots/squeaks a little. It's really rather endearing.

My Mum has pulled her head out of her arse a bit since the comment I blogged about last time. She said to me that I said on the day I had Mal Jr:

"I didn't expect to love him. I thought I would have to learn to love him, but I love him so much already."

And each day I love him more, and I am really enjoying what a smashing little person he's turning out to be. The smiles are just something else.

I had a bit of a rough night with Mal Jr last night. He isn't the best breast-feeder in the world, and doesn't open his mouth wide enough to take a decent mouthful, and thereby not make me sore. So last night I was hitting the roof every time anything touched me, let alone applied any form of suction, and I made the decision to express two feeds during the night for him.

None of us got much sleep, so I slept in a while (thank the Lord for the extra hour in bed too). I got up, and he wanted to feed, so I few him without expressing - it was agonising, but just about bearable.

The phone rings. It was my Mum. She started the conversation with "how are you doing?" which is fairly innocuous, to which I replied that we were doing fine, thanks. She said "honestly?" which is possibly the worst thing she could have said at the time. So being tired, hormonal, worried that I'm not doing the best by my son, bothered by the health visitor (sucking in through her teeth like a plumber and saying "weeeell he's not gained much weight has he?" He gained 100g (4oz) in 11 days), and otherwise generally aching and sore (I still have stitches in delicate places) I did the only rational thing I could do, and burst into tears. Mum then went for the jugular with "I was up all night worrying about Mal Jr. He's not thriving, is he?".

I offered my apologies and put the phone down. I think this is the most poorly-thought-out comment she has made to me so far in my life. I have no idea her thought process for deciding that making that comment to me was a good idea. I think what she does is talk to my sister, who blows anything I've said out of proportion, and then jumps to a worst-case-scenario conclusion. So "it's sore when I feed him" turns into "I'm starving him because I don't want to feed him" through chinese whispers. Because I'm breastfeeding him, if he's not gaining much weight, it must be my fault because I'm in charge of what's going into me and therefore what's going into him. Wonderful.

Having suffered with depression in the past, I am sort of waiting for the post-natal depression to hit me. I've been ok and felt really positive for the past 3 weeks. Today is the first day I have felt like utter shit. I want to go and crawl into a hole and not come out for a long time. I feel as crap now as I did sitting looking at him when he was in SCBU. It's this horrible gnawing fear that I might be doing something that's not good for him. I only want the very best for my lovely baby.

I know he's growing, because he's nearly out of 2 babygrows that he once was lost in. He might not be piling on pounds - but he's growing. I know he's fine.

Well done Mum for making me feel so crap about myself. Congratulations. I'm sure that having a sad Mummy is great for your grandson.

20 days ago, a small shouty individual arrived into my arms.

He has turned my life so amazingly upside down, made me cry - both in a good and bad way - and laugh in equal measures, and above all made me love in a way in which I didn't think possible.

I thought after meeting Mal and falling in love with him that I wouldn't get the chance to do it ever again. I was wrong. Every time I look at Mal Jr. I fall in love with him all over again. He is changing daily - yesterday he looked at me and smiled a big, happy, cooing, gummy grin. It made me turn into a jellified, hormonal, blubbing mess.

His eyes are amazing - a sort of dark, steel grey at the moment. His hands are like mine - he is my identical hand twin (minus 28 years!). I think he has my ears and feet too. One thing above all though - he looks very like Mal. It's the sort of thing everyone says about a new baby "oh he looks just like you!" but Jr. really does look just like Mal.

I hope he ends up with his Dad's kindness, understanding, patience, politeness, wit and charm too. And that he likes music too.

I've got so many hopes and dreams for him. Above all I just hope he lives long and remains healthy. Lord knows the worst 24 hours of my life were when I thought there was something seriously wrong with him and he ended up on special care for 24 hours. I couldn't look at him without crying. I couldn't pick him up and talk to him and touch him without trailing wires. All I could say to him was "Mummy's here. Mummy's here and she loves you." And then I'd sob all over him. Looking down at this baby on my lap through swimming tears was a surreal experience and one I really wouldn't wish to repeat.

I have no idea how people cope when their baby is on the special care ward for days, if not months. I take my hat off to them. Those 24 hours were the worst of my life. To be stuck there with your most precious baby for weeks on end must be excruciating. I want to hug every parent who goes through it.

I'm writing this with a baby nestled in the crook of my arm, lying across my lap. He should be waking up for a feed soon. I had better get dressed I think. Good job I've got funky PJs! I seem to live in them at the moment!

I love this little baby. When he wakes up and cries, I'll tell him that his Mummy's here and she loves him, but this time I won't cry.

...except that I don't think it is.

For anyone who has known me over the last 9 months, they will know that pregnancy and Mrs Mal do not mix particularly well without there being trouble of some sort. Allow me to explain.

First, it was the sickness. I couldn't even open the fridge without being sick. It smelt of "fridge" and this, apparently was not to my stomach's taste. Neither was the kitchen bin. Neither were certain shops. I felt like I was welded to a washing up bowl and a bottle of water for the first 20 weeks. Including at work, on the shop floor.

Then it was the crashing tiredness. I was bordering on the narcoleptic. I would sleep, go to work, come home, sleep a little at lunch, return to work, and then sleep all evening. If I wasn't sleeping, I was in a zombie-like state, usually prodded awake by Mal to make sure I wasn't dead, and to offer me food.

After the tiredness came the aches. The aches turned into stabbing pains, which actually made me catch my breath and nearly fall over. The stabbing pains (sciatica) then turned into PGP (Pelvic Girdle Pain, formerly known as SPD) which meant I was referred to physio. When I turned over in bed I could feel the bones in my pelvis moving about at the front. Until now I had no idea that the pelvis wasn't a solid ring of bone! This meant I was on crutches from about 14 weeks until It got better, which was around 29 weeks.

All this time, with the tiredness, the sickness, the gnawing aches, pains and general feeling that your body that has functioned in a particular way for the past (in my case) 28 years, was then compounded by having a less than understanding boss at work. When I'm not upduffed, not much fazes me. I just get on, I cope, and I get things done. This has been a huge shock to the system. Simple things such as not being able to carry something, bend down to pick it up, stand up straight, stand up... It's just such a culture shock to me because (and I am sure Mal will confirm this) I am most vehemently independent in a capability sense. That is, if flat-pack furniture needs assembling, he doesn't get a look-in. Same for any shelves needing put up, the garden, the painting, car maintenance, carrying something - you name it. I am just not a lady-like girly-girl. I have felt so weak and feeble (that came out as feak and weeble in my head - weeble's not too far from the truth, lol), having to ask for help has been another shock too. Luckily Mal is one of a very rare breed of gentlemen, and has, I think, almost enjoyed being able to help his wife. It's never happened before.

Back to the boss. She didn't understand as much as I could tell her, that I couldn't do certain things now, like work over 5 days in a row (I was nearly dead after 3) or do 12 hour shifts (I could barely keep my eyes open after 6), or lift a box, or remember things without writing them down. She didn't bother to read the company's maternity policy, which explained in fairly minute detail about extra things I was allowed (extra breaks, risk assessments, uniform, etc) and went about her duties being almost deliberately obstructive. This caused me no end of stress, which compounded everything I've mentioned so far. I lost count of the number of times I got home and just sobbed because it was all too much.

On the advice of my physio, I was no longer able to stand for 8 hours a day at work. Rather than sign me off or find something else for me to do, they hired me a wheelchair. Which was actually great as it meant I could get around with minimal fuss and not be on my feet. The difference in attitude from customers was amazing too. I would be blanked totally by some people some of the time. Not once was I blanked when I was on wheels. I mean, what sort of person would be rude to someone using a wheelchair? It just proved to me that however people might see you, they do see your disability too if it's got a visual cue.

After the sickness and the tiredness and the aches and the pains and the rotten boss, came the fainting! At about 25 weeks, I started fainting if I stood up too quickly, or if I sat up a bit too fast from lying down. I discovered this by taking buddy and his sister Yoda for a walk along the canal towpath near our house. Or rather, they took me. The day was particularly humid, and in order to get back to our house, we had to walk up a large flight of steps. The dogs may be small, but they are also mighty, and they towed me up them faster than I would have liked. When I got to the top I was seeing stars, and I had an amazing moment of clarity in which I realised that unless I sat down, I was about to fall down. So I sat down pleading inwardly with my brain not not let me faint. If I did, I would have let go of the dogs' leads and they would have run into a main road and in all likelihood would have been squished. So I sat there, breathing, and a van pulled in and was about to call me an ambulance when I asked him not to as I was just a bit light headed. I sat there for another 5 minutes, and regained composure. Bless that guy for stopping though. At this point, I got signed off work.

As well as all this, the hormone levels in my body have given me back my teenage acne-prone skin, and my face and back are just a huge mess.

The fainting thing continued a while, and then it gradually phased out. For about 2 weeks I felt ok - back not too bad, hips although sore, were tolerable, ok skin not too good, but apart from that, not doing too badly.

And then the itching started. I started to itch on the soles of my feet, which I thought was just a sign that they might be a bit swollen and I might need to get the pumice stone on them in any case. Then it spread to my palms after a few days, and last Thursday I woke up itching like I never have before in all sorts of places - thighs, backs of knees, calf muscles. All without a hint of a rash - just red claw marks that I had left on myself.

So, I phoned the community midwife number who suggested I go to a chemist and get some cream for it. This rang alarm bells as I knew from somewhere that you should keep an eye on anything being particularly itchy. so I rang the hospital, who had me in within the hour for blood tests, foetal monitoring and urine samples.

they called me back at 6pm the next day with my blood work and said I needed to go in the next day to begin treatment for Obstetric Cholestasis - whose classic symptoms is itchy soles of feet and palms. With this nice liver complaint, they like to evict babies a little bit early. So now I am 38 weeks... I am booked in for induction tomorrow.

Pregnancy really has turned me into a moany old cow, and I don't like it one bit. I am looking forward to tomorrow for 2 reasons - I get to meet this fantastic little person who has been making me laugh and wince in alternate measures, and I also get to be not-pregnant-any-more.

So, I think although the road ahead will have many challenges, I will find them easier to cope with rather than having to cope with them and be uncomfortable in my own skin.

so, here's to motherhood.

Wish me luck!

Reading someone else's blog about standards of grammar etc. has got me thinking.

I have recently considered some things which bother me - the lack of teachers who are willing/able to spend the time with pupils and teach them one-on-one how to read, how to use phonics. Not just the gifted and talented pupils, but every single one, including those who find it incredibly difficult.

I had a friend whose brother couldn't read when he was 8. She had great difficulty too in reading, and her parents just didn't bother with either of them. I helped her learn phonics (aged 14) because she had huge difficulty in writing. She used to just panic when she didn't know how to spell a word and write any old letter that came into her head. After teaching her phonics ("if you can write how it sounds, the person reading it can sound it out and have a guess what you're trying to say rather than being at a total loss") her grades improved in her written work. It only took a couple of weeks. Why at 14 and a pupil myself did I have to do that? Why had no teacher bothered?

Which brings me onto my next point. Why did her parents not notice? Why did they not do something to help? I think this society has become quite detached from their own childrens' education. They are all for shouting the odds if their perceive there has been unfair treatment in the playground, but a lot of parents just don't engage with their kids' educations in a meaningful way at all. They can't do much reading at home... or they'd notice their child was struggling. Wouldn't they? Or did the government of the time fail them too, and forget to teach them how to read?

The government has put so much pressure on teachers to jump through hoops and make the children exam-passing machines, that they seem to have forgotten to leave the teachers time to spend teaching the children. It's now such a social norm for both of a child's parents to be out at work, that's where the reading time has gone. I think the TV license is great value if CBeebies is your main form of childcare. Coupled with the fact that teachers are spread so thinly these days through no fault of their own is going to culminate in a disastrous mess sooner or later.

I am determined that my boy (whom I get to meet this week) will have a Mum who will read to him, sing to him (poor thing!), and teach him, and when he goes to school, will be asking the teacher how I can help him from home so he is able to excel in the classroom. I think it's my job as a parent to know what they are teaching him.

I am determined to break the cycle: Government interferes with good teaching, standard of education drops, parents powerless to do anything to help due to the pressure of keeping a roof over the family's head, government gets more involved because standards are slipping.

The second dilemma that has been eating away at me, is that unless we make sure the above happens - English being properly taught in schools and at home - we are going to witness the creolisation of a pidgin, and txt spk will become a new language. It will be fascinating from a linguistic point of view, but as a scholar (read: pedant) of English, it will be the death of the language as we know it.

A creole is created when a pidgin (an auxiliary language that is primarily a simplified form of one language, with a reduced vocabulary and grammatical structure and considerable variation in pronunciation) has a new generation born into speaking/writing it, and that generation adopts it as their first language, giving it a proper grammar (this is an innate human capacity, and if you want to read some fascinating stuff, go and read loads on Nicaraguan sign language) and uses it every day.

I suppose it would be an interesting form of spelling reform, in any case. It bothers me though. I like my quaint spellings, and my unpredictably conjugating verbs.

There will be loads of holes you can pick in everything I've said. I blame my brain which probably looks like swiss cheese due to pregnancy and how forgetful it has made me. It's a basic mind dump on a load of stuff I have been thinking of for a while now.

I hope my brain improves after I get rid of the squatter in my uterus. It probably won't though due to the impending sleep deprivation!

I have waited in for most of today for my rocking chair to arrive.

And it is now here! Wireless broadband is a wonderful thing. I am sat in the nursery in the rocking chair, gently moving back and forth, with my Mac on my lap, and the dog refusing to come in the room on accont of the fact that there is new furniture in here and that it *moves*. Buddy does not like things that move. They may push him, or eat him at any moment if he is not constantly watching them. This explanation does not work for the issues that he has with the ironing board though - it is inanimate. The only thing I can think of is that the ironing board is in league with the iron, which has a long length of flex that might leap up and devour him like a boa constrictor.

I have a fridge magnet that says:

"I hope when my children look back one day
They remember a Mum who had time to play.
Time spent cleaning, time spent cooking -
Children grow up when you're not looking.
So hush now, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep."

Indeed. I'm rocking my baby, and admiring the cobwebs. I'll deal with them later.