Oh Lord. I'm reading Tracy Hogg's book properly, this time, in an effort to avoid those sleeping issues I posted about before.
I got the new 'Problem Solver' one.
I could smack myself in the head about this - now I read all of it, not just the sleep crisis bits, I so see how I - me, Jo, myself, created so many of the things I blamed my poor babe for. I've actually read the food and routine chapters, and the golden light of comprehension has dawned.
I was so convinced that demand feeding was the only way anyone could possibly parent, I failed to stop doing it and establish any sort of feed routine, with the result that my baby snacked all the time but was never filled up - it was no wonder then that she didn't sleep, she rarely had a full tummy, and every time she woke I'd rush up and pacify her with the boob, when she just needed settling. I also let her sleep for up to 5 hours at a time during the day, instead of waking her up and feeding her, so she'd have enough in her for the night. No wonder all the desperate efforts at fixing her sleeping fell short!
It's true, it doesn't take long to establish these patterns and it was so long before I created any sort of feeding routine that her sleep cycle was all out the window, and she still snacked - and is now a terrible snacker - she'll eat a few bites, say 'it was too much' and then ask me for more food of a less nutritious nature ten minutes later . Do I give it to her? Ugh, we won't even go there.
Some of Tracy Hogg goes against my lactivist, attachment parenting leanings. But nothing that she does is unfair or harmful to the baby, like Gina Ford's demands seem. TH is pretty easy on the parent too. No controlled crying, just sensible consistency that her babies seem to thrive on. And her identification of different personality types or a mix thereof, and how to keep them happy, is spot on.
Now, I won't be doing absolutely everything she suggests, but when I balk at her prescriptive feed time routine from the first week, I just remind myself that I had a v colicky daughter who has taken 4 YEARS to learn to sleep through the night and that I came close to falling asleep on the motorway. My 'way' was not the best way.
I do believe that as a first time parent there are some things you just can't hear, some ideas you can't adopt (I'm thinking of my cousin insisting on how much she loved those special night time quality times with her son - and that's fine, it's just not the same when those little midnight flits are still going on 6 months later and you start really resenting your child for it!). I was given advice that I rejected out of hand, that in retrospect would have been a good idea. But I don't know that I would have been able to implement it at the time anyway. Still, I so wish I'd read Tracy first!
But as a second time mother, I have definitely revised my opinion about what babies need. Attachment parenting sounds great to me, but in reality, I think it's a little bit of a question of mothers holding on too tight.Don't get me wrong, I'll still be using a sling, and putting the baby in my bed (especially now my daughter is out of it at last!)but it won't be for three years this time.This little baby is going to know what to expect.
I don't promise a cleaner house though...
Monday, April 30, 2007
Sunday, April 29, 2007
more dreams
I'm not intending this to be a dream journal, but I had the worst night's sleep lat night - I was just uncomfortable in every way - itchy, sore bones and joints, and feeling oddly negative and alarmed for no reason. Bleh! And then this morning I had weird dreams. Long changing sessions of nasty dreams.
First I dreamt I was trying to plan my daughter's christening and I wanted Glen Hansard to play at it, and it was all in a lovely old church in an old estate - I think his family's (?) with lots of green grass and streams. But he said he wouldn't in end, and there were all these people here I didn't actually know, and I was annoyed because they were all just having a laugh and I wanted it to be more important - and then I realised I had no money to pay for anything anyway - cue lots of money anxiety dreams - and a sort of scary trek up a dusty hill with my daughter in my arms, as a smaller child, I don't know where I was going, but I was following this dusty road with a small rocky stream running along one side, with clear water and tiny, pretty fish swimming in it. My parents or Niall were behind us, I don't know why. Then we got to a sort of desert beach somewhere African - it was filled with the people of the area, who were black, poor, diseased, drug ruined and sort of deformed - I was holding her and trying to shield her from these zombie like people and really wishing my father would get there - to protect us and show us where to go! strange, as he has abdicated that role in real life.
The next bit was more about money, my husband's job, and total lack of communication between us, that somehow grew into me becoming another character who was inexplicably being chased by an assassin called 'Chip Monkey'(actually a name of one of the posters on Rollercoaster) who was Alan Alda. He cornered me at work and gave me his passport - I ran away on seeing his name, downstairs to where the police locker rooms were - and a pilates class, which I joined in to try and hide. He tracked me down and tried to shoot through the glass of the adjoining room (sigh - I have these recurring dreams of someone shooting at me through a window, which are usually really scary - and alarming, as it's such a symbol of being afraid or willies!)and ultimately all the pilates women attacked and subdued him!
I'm confused on which came what - stuff about my husband and money, and trying to talk to Irish politicians about money and grants - Mary O Rourke offered us a dodgy loan which worried me. And what stands out most is a scene where I discovered we owed an old friend from the US I haven't seen in years nearly ten grand, then there was all this mess with the christening, my father and my mother was there and I realised it was her birthday and everyone had forgotten, except my father who had known and hadn't bothered. - then a very upsetting bit when we both burst into tears about it, and I held her fiercely but felt so guilty and upset, it was horrible.
Ugh! Horrible dreams!
First I dreamt I was trying to plan my daughter's christening and I wanted Glen Hansard to play at it, and it was all in a lovely old church in an old estate - I think his family's (?) with lots of green grass and streams. But he said he wouldn't in end, and there were all these people here I didn't actually know, and I was annoyed because they were all just having a laugh and I wanted it to be more important - and then I realised I had no money to pay for anything anyway - cue lots of money anxiety dreams - and a sort of scary trek up a dusty hill with my daughter in my arms, as a smaller child, I don't know where I was going, but I was following this dusty road with a small rocky stream running along one side, with clear water and tiny, pretty fish swimming in it. My parents or Niall were behind us, I don't know why. Then we got to a sort of desert beach somewhere African - it was filled with the people of the area, who were black, poor, diseased, drug ruined and sort of deformed - I was holding her and trying to shield her from these zombie like people and really wishing my father would get there - to protect us and show us where to go! strange, as he has abdicated that role in real life.
The next bit was more about money, my husband's job, and total lack of communication between us, that somehow grew into me becoming another character who was inexplicably being chased by an assassin called 'Chip Monkey'(actually a name of one of the posters on Rollercoaster) who was Alan Alda. He cornered me at work and gave me his passport - I ran away on seeing his name, downstairs to where the police locker rooms were - and a pilates class, which I joined in to try and hide. He tracked me down and tried to shoot through the glass of the adjoining room (sigh - I have these recurring dreams of someone shooting at me through a window, which are usually really scary - and alarming, as it's such a symbol of being afraid or willies!)and ultimately all the pilates women attacked and subdued him!
I'm confused on which came what - stuff about my husband and money, and trying to talk to Irish politicians about money and grants - Mary O Rourke offered us a dodgy loan which worried me. And what stands out most is a scene where I discovered we owed an old friend from the US I haven't seen in years nearly ten grand, then there was all this mess with the christening, my father and my mother was there and I realised it was her birthday and everyone had forgotten, except my father who had known and hadn't bothered. - then a very upsetting bit when we both burst into tears about it, and I held her fiercely but felt so guilty and upset, it was horrible.
Ugh! Horrible dreams!
Saturday, April 28, 2007
dreams
This morning I was heavily involved with Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker - though I don't think they were actually married and he was much younger than he is now. Most peculiar.
On my first pregnancy I had a lot of very sensual dreams, often more about touch or closeness than sex - I dreamed about falling asleep against an old friend who had a child, and it was so incredibly comfortable - I was acutely aware of dreaming that I was asleep while actually being asleep - layers of sleeping! I also had a dream that I'd slept with another old friend with whom I had once, so very long ago had a brief and unmeaningful teenage dalliance with - and I made the mistake of mentioning this to him, which got him and his girlfriend incredibly worried that I was somehow trying to confess my secret passions - or 'latent desire' as he put it. God. How humiliating, how unexpected - how disappointing that was. It never occured to me that anyone would consider that some sort of confession or proposal...
I don't think dreams are ever that simple, or direct. Both my husband and I have had really arousing dreams about very old people (thankfully once offs) but I don't think this means we have a perverted attraction to the elderly (I'm sure there's a horrible word for the fetish that no doubt exists - Wrinkly-wranglers, or something!). Nor do I fancy Matthew Broderick or another old friend I dreamt about having sweet, but completely unsatisfying teenage sex with the night before (now that's a funny one - because this is someone I knew in my teens, in my dreams he has sex like a teenager - odd...). I don't know why I dream about people from my past so much - perhaps there aren't enogh people in my present, or more likely because I've been an old married woman for so long I don't see myself as a sexually active or desirable person any more (oh dear, sudden depressing realisation alert).
I think that during pregnancy, having another life inside you gives you a heightened need for physical closeness, and that sex is just one manifestations of that. When I was pregnant I felt a very strong need for touch - massage, hugs, to hold a baby - just want human contact really, and unfortunately I have a husband who is 'physically undemonstrative' to a fault - six and a half months pregnant and I've had perhaps two massages from him - is it any wonder I'm dreaming about Matthew Broderick?!
The only literal sex dreams I'll admit to are the ones I've had about Angel (not so much David Boreanaz, sweet as he is) but to be honest, I think that's just as much about wanting to be Buffy!
On my first pregnancy I had a lot of very sensual dreams, often more about touch or closeness than sex - I dreamed about falling asleep against an old friend who had a child, and it was so incredibly comfortable - I was acutely aware of dreaming that I was asleep while actually being asleep - layers of sleeping! I also had a dream that I'd slept with another old friend with whom I had once, so very long ago had a brief and unmeaningful teenage dalliance with - and I made the mistake of mentioning this to him, which got him and his girlfriend incredibly worried that I was somehow trying to confess my secret passions - or 'latent desire' as he put it. God. How humiliating, how unexpected - how disappointing that was. It never occured to me that anyone would consider that some sort of confession or proposal...
I don't think dreams are ever that simple, or direct. Both my husband and I have had really arousing dreams about very old people (thankfully once offs) but I don't think this means we have a perverted attraction to the elderly (I'm sure there's a horrible word for the fetish that no doubt exists - Wrinkly-wranglers, or something!). Nor do I fancy Matthew Broderick or another old friend I dreamt about having sweet, but completely unsatisfying teenage sex with the night before (now that's a funny one - because this is someone I knew in my teens, in my dreams he has sex like a teenager - odd...). I don't know why I dream about people from my past so much - perhaps there aren't enogh people in my present, or more likely because I've been an old married woman for so long I don't see myself as a sexually active or desirable person any more (oh dear, sudden depressing realisation alert).
I think that during pregnancy, having another life inside you gives you a heightened need for physical closeness, and that sex is just one manifestations of that. When I was pregnant I felt a very strong need for touch - massage, hugs, to hold a baby - just want human contact really, and unfortunately I have a husband who is 'physically undemonstrative' to a fault - six and a half months pregnant and I've had perhaps two massages from him - is it any wonder I'm dreaming about Matthew Broderick?!
The only literal sex dreams I'll admit to are the ones I've had about Angel (not so much David Boreanaz, sweet as he is) but to be honest, I think that's just as much about wanting to be Buffy!
Friday, April 27, 2007
Soon to be an auntie!
My SIL has gone into hospital today, to wait in safety til her Csection on her due date, Wednesday. Her baby has decided it wants to be sideways, didn't like the upside down thing at all! It had been transverse for ages, then flipped soon after they were warned how dangerous it was and that she'd have to be taken in for monitoring pre-operation.
I feel sorry for her, it would freak me out, but she's very practical, and there must be a certain amount of relief in releasing yourself from the responsibility and knowing the op is a foregone conclusion. And that there are people around to look after you in case things go wrong - transverse is dangerous if you go into labour, much more so than breech.
In fact, there's an incredible breech birth story in this month's copy of Mothering that is very inspirational. There's a lot of interesting theory about why babies do this. I wonder. We need to look more into the emotional motivation of unborn babies -though it's not research that will ever go mainstream because it can't be done scientifically. I think rebirthing has much to teach us about our experience before and just afer birth, but it's not something everyone can accept.
Why are we so threatened by the concept of babies having emotional lives? I know why, because generally, we treat them so badly - it's hard for me to think about but people used to believe that newborns had no feelings of pain - WTF? Why did we come to this insane conclusion, other than as a way to block out and deny our own pain and negative birth experience.
Inamay Gaskin says that one of the first things on her list for maternity care reform in the US is to teach anyone who works with babies how to take their clothes on or off without making them cry - I think this says it all.
My husband and I were so scared of having our baby's heel prick test done we nearly didn't. In the event he bravely held our three day old daughter, while our lovely midwife warmed her foot in water, and gently did the test - apart from one squeak as the needle came out, she was calm and happy, and we laughed at ourselves for being so hysterical about it - yet I know in hospital, many people experience a screaming baby who has to be punctured again and again to get enough blood. In fairness, Philomena did say it's not always that easy and that it's the only bit of her job she doesn't like - but I still think it says a lot about hospital.
It's funny, my daughter is no longer so calm about blood drawing - when I talk about having pregnancy blood tests she gets quite upset - I told someone I'd had one yesterday and from the sand box she told me firmly, 'Don't talk about that, Mama. It's too icky.' I wonder are some phobias inborn? Seeing Charlotte's Web seems to have resolved the fear of spiders I'd sadly created by shrieking involuntarily when I see one - I know, I know, I'd so hoped not to, but it's pretty uncontrollable.
Now I just have to try and undo her fear of the dark that has arisen since she saw an unexpectedly scary moment on Scrubs (Dammit! Don't let your child watch telly!).
I was always scared of the dark, and I still think about Werewolves and so on lurking in wait - why won't that one go away?
From transverse babies to fears and phobias - this is what I'm thinking about today!
I feel sorry for her, it would freak me out, but she's very practical, and there must be a certain amount of relief in releasing yourself from the responsibility and knowing the op is a foregone conclusion. And that there are people around to look after you in case things go wrong - transverse is dangerous if you go into labour, much more so than breech.
In fact, there's an incredible breech birth story in this month's copy of Mothering that is very inspirational. There's a lot of interesting theory about why babies do this. I wonder. We need to look more into the emotional motivation of unborn babies -though it's not research that will ever go mainstream because it can't be done scientifically. I think rebirthing has much to teach us about our experience before and just afer birth, but it's not something everyone can accept.
Why are we so threatened by the concept of babies having emotional lives? I know why, because generally, we treat them so badly - it's hard for me to think about but people used to believe that newborns had no feelings of pain - WTF? Why did we come to this insane conclusion, other than as a way to block out and deny our own pain and negative birth experience.
Inamay Gaskin says that one of the first things on her list for maternity care reform in the US is to teach anyone who works with babies how to take their clothes on or off without making them cry - I think this says it all.
My husband and I were so scared of having our baby's heel prick test done we nearly didn't. In the event he bravely held our three day old daughter, while our lovely midwife warmed her foot in water, and gently did the test - apart from one squeak as the needle came out, she was calm and happy, and we laughed at ourselves for being so hysterical about it - yet I know in hospital, many people experience a screaming baby who has to be punctured again and again to get enough blood. In fairness, Philomena did say it's not always that easy and that it's the only bit of her job she doesn't like - but I still think it says a lot about hospital.
It's funny, my daughter is no longer so calm about blood drawing - when I talk about having pregnancy blood tests she gets quite upset - I told someone I'd had one yesterday and from the sand box she told me firmly, 'Don't talk about that, Mama. It's too icky.' I wonder are some phobias inborn? Seeing Charlotte's Web seems to have resolved the fear of spiders I'd sadly created by shrieking involuntarily when I see one - I know, I know, I'd so hoped not to, but it's pretty uncontrollable.
Now I just have to try and undo her fear of the dark that has arisen since she saw an unexpectedly scary moment on Scrubs (Dammit! Don't let your child watch telly!).
I was always scared of the dark, and I still think about Werewolves and so on lurking in wait - why won't that one go away?
From transverse babies to fears and phobias - this is what I'm thinking about today!
Thursday, April 26, 2007
lottery
Why can't I seem to win the lottery? And don't give me that sensible one in eight million statistic - if that were true, how come people win millions each month? It was worth the risk for them. Why them and not me!!
I also find it hard to accept that being wealthy wouldn't make me happy. Holidays would make me happy - sleeping in, eating out. Being able to afford some sort of ecological car (if such a thing truly exists). Building a house in a beautiful place, that provides its own energy, and ideally other houses for my friends and family to live in. Being able to really do something for charity. Having a place to grow vegetables, and a gardener to do it for me if I'm too lazy or incompetant - I could include many similar employees in this one!
Having many shoes and bags, and a special room to put them in!
Being able to afford to buy people great presents.
And having regular massages and maintenance treatments that I can't do now.
Having a large bath, perhaps with jacuzzi function! And a swimming pool!
I cannot accept that having some or all of these things would not increase my happiness!
I also find it hard to accept that being wealthy wouldn't make me happy. Holidays would make me happy - sleeping in, eating out. Being able to afford some sort of ecological car (if such a thing truly exists). Building a house in a beautiful place, that provides its own energy, and ideally other houses for my friends and family to live in. Being able to really do something for charity. Having a place to grow vegetables, and a gardener to do it for me if I'm too lazy or incompetant - I could include many similar employees in this one!
Having many shoes and bags, and a special room to put them in!
Being able to afford to buy people great presents.
And having regular massages and maintenance treatments that I can't do now.
Having a large bath, perhaps with jacuzzi function! And a swimming pool!
I cannot accept that having some or all of these things would not increase my happiness!
Monday, April 23, 2007
pelvic floor humiliation
Well, it could be worse - it's not like I was on a trampoline...
I went to Pilates today, after a three week hiatus for Easter and one missed class due to traffic (I tried to get down to the end of the town and back in time for class - didn't work).
And needless to say, I haven't been doing any practice, or whatever you could call it to make it sound less like homework. Because I'm lazy, basically - whatever the strange reasons are that the majority of people lack the self discipline to do 15 mins of excercise every day.
So I was doing ok, til the end (because I got to hold the bar while doing the horrible balance work where you have to lift one leg without shifting any weight onto your opposite hip), when we did a thing where you get on all fours and strengthen your pelvic floor muscles, and lengthen one leg away from you on the ground, trying to keep the strain in your centre and not shift weight to your hands, or other knee.
I just can't do this. The teacher was working with me, as I'm pregnant and wobbly, which is great on one hand, value for money etc, but deeply embarrassing on the other. And today was worse, as she laughed at my pathetic efforts, and reinforced how important it is to have some control there, so I can follow the midwife's advice when getting the baby out (push, don't push, etc) - and worst of all, as she finished, she gave me a terribly sympathetic look and said 'sorry', like she'd just diagnosed me with a terminal disease! - in this case congenital weakness of the flabby stomach that will haunt me throughout my labour and beyond! Arg!
I went to Pilates today, after a three week hiatus for Easter and one missed class due to traffic (I tried to get down to the end of the town and back in time for class - didn't work).
And needless to say, I haven't been doing any practice, or whatever you could call it to make it sound less like homework. Because I'm lazy, basically - whatever the strange reasons are that the majority of people lack the self discipline to do 15 mins of excercise every day.
So I was doing ok, til the end (because I got to hold the bar while doing the horrible balance work where you have to lift one leg without shifting any weight onto your opposite hip), when we did a thing where you get on all fours and strengthen your pelvic floor muscles, and lengthen one leg away from you on the ground, trying to keep the strain in your centre and not shift weight to your hands, or other knee.
I just can't do this. The teacher was working with me, as I'm pregnant and wobbly, which is great on one hand, value for money etc, but deeply embarrassing on the other. And today was worse, as she laughed at my pathetic efforts, and reinforced how important it is to have some control there, so I can follow the midwife's advice when getting the baby out (push, don't push, etc) - and worst of all, as she finished, she gave me a terribly sympathetic look and said 'sorry', like she'd just diagnosed me with a terminal disease! - in this case congenital weakness of the flabby stomach that will haunt me throughout my labour and beyond! Arg!
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Pregnancy induced insomnia! Another complaint
In fairness to my husband, he doesn't go out often. The problem I have is that when he does, he leaves the house about 5 or 6pm, then gets home at 5am, and so is gone for a full twelve hours - then there's the further ten hours he needs to sleep it off, and the hangover that will last into the following evening.
I admit it's slightly sour grapes on my part, as I don't really get the opportunity to go out and when I do, it's never a four in the morning kind of thing! My life is tame, but the H has lots of friends in their twenties...
My biggest problem is that I never know when he's going to come home, but I'm very aware, as I sleep, that when he does he will smell of booze and cigarettes, and will fall into a snoring, stinky stupor when he gets to bed - this wouldn't be so much of a problem if I could just stay asleep - but I wake up every hour or less, checking the time, checking to see if he's there, and just being wakeful. And at the moment my hip is at me, I'm so uncomfortable anyway... I rang him at 4.30 to ask him to sleep downstairs, just so I could stop anticipating his arrival (how stupid is it to sit awake, worrying about being woken up?) but it still took ages to get back to sleep.
And then, with her usual weekend perversity, Cassia woke up at 7.15 - despite the fact that I have to drag her out of bed at 8.10 on school mornings...
I'm knackered!
And as a postscript, the whole family has to deal with The Hangover - the party doesn't stop on Saturday night, it necessitates sleeping in til the afternoon, being too wrecked to go swimming or to the birthday party as planned, despite my daughter's pleas.
Is it me or is this just selfish? Do mothers do this? Or if they do, are they not seen as skanky, unfit mothers? Why is it ok for men to behave this way?
I don't get to celebrate my birthday but he can go on random benders and use it as an excue to avoid spending time with his family? I think men should have to sarifice the type of nights ou they have just as much as women should, unless it's a special occasion...
I admit it's slightly sour grapes on my part, as I don't really get the opportunity to go out and when I do, it's never a four in the morning kind of thing! My life is tame, but the H has lots of friends in their twenties...
My biggest problem is that I never know when he's going to come home, but I'm very aware, as I sleep, that when he does he will smell of booze and cigarettes, and will fall into a snoring, stinky stupor when he gets to bed - this wouldn't be so much of a problem if I could just stay asleep - but I wake up every hour or less, checking the time, checking to see if he's there, and just being wakeful. And at the moment my hip is at me, I'm so uncomfortable anyway... I rang him at 4.30 to ask him to sleep downstairs, just so I could stop anticipating his arrival (how stupid is it to sit awake, worrying about being woken up?) but it still took ages to get back to sleep.
And then, with her usual weekend perversity, Cassia woke up at 7.15 - despite the fact that I have to drag her out of bed at 8.10 on school mornings...
I'm knackered!
And as a postscript, the whole family has to deal with The Hangover - the party doesn't stop on Saturday night, it necessitates sleeping in til the afternoon, being too wrecked to go swimming or to the birthday party as planned, despite my daughter's pleas.
Is it me or is this just selfish? Do mothers do this? Or if they do, are they not seen as skanky, unfit mothers? Why is it ok for men to behave this way?
I don't get to celebrate my birthday but he can go on random benders and use it as an excue to avoid spending time with his family? I think men should have to sarifice the type of nights ou they have just as much as women should, unless it's a special occasion...
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
birthday
My birthday approaches. Since my mother died, my birthday feels a little flat, like it's not anyone's priority anymore. There's no-one to make me a cake. It's hard to mother yourself on your own birthday. I'm not really complaining about it, since my thirtieth I'm accepting being a grown up about such things.
But I would love to go out and celebrate, have some people want to spend the evening with me, get some cards and little presents. I love presents... but it's hard to get it to work. I so don't want to spend the evening feeling like Wilhemina-No-Mates if no one can come out, and it's not like I'd even be able to drown my sorrows.
The other problem is, I don't have a group to whom I belong. No-one is at this moment thinking about my birthday and making plans, or has a mark on the calendar. So it makes the whole thing slightly embarrassing, I end up feeling like it's a charity event.
I have various options - make food on my birthday (Wed night) and entertain at home. Go out Friday - I already know one person can't come, and someone else probably not - which is awkward because then other people won't know anyone... or Saturday, which would suit the husband better come to think of it but knocks out someone else in fact even this just makes me feel it's all too hard! I'm exhausted just thinking about it.
Yet I only have a few months left before I have another baby and I can't go out again for years. Literally.
My other option is to go to a spa for (hopefully, my daughter and babysitting arrangements depending) a night with my husband, which we can't quite afford but I'm longing to do - I've had the voucher for a year now - we can't quite afford his side of it, but it's not like we're going to get the chance again for a looong time - this is really what it all comes down to. And while I want to do that, I'd like the other celebrationy, sitting round a table bit too.
Yawn. Too hard, I dunno. What to do?
But I would love to go out and celebrate, have some people want to spend the evening with me, get some cards and little presents. I love presents... but it's hard to get it to work. I so don't want to spend the evening feeling like Wilhemina-No-Mates if no one can come out, and it's not like I'd even be able to drown my sorrows.
The other problem is, I don't have a group to whom I belong. No-one is at this moment thinking about my birthday and making plans, or has a mark on the calendar. So it makes the whole thing slightly embarrassing, I end up feeling like it's a charity event.
I have various options - make food on my birthday (Wed night) and entertain at home. Go out Friday - I already know one person can't come, and someone else probably not - which is awkward because then other people won't know anyone... or Saturday, which would suit the husband better come to think of it but knocks out someone else in fact even this just makes me feel it's all too hard! I'm exhausted just thinking about it.
Yet I only have a few months left before I have another baby and I can't go out again for years. Literally.
My other option is to go to a spa for (hopefully, my daughter and babysitting arrangements depending) a night with my husband, which we can't quite afford but I'm longing to do - I've had the voucher for a year now - we can't quite afford his side of it, but it's not like we're going to get the chance again for a looong time - this is really what it all comes down to. And while I want to do that, I'd like the other celebrationy, sitting round a table bit too.
Yawn. Too hard, I dunno. What to do?
Monday, April 16, 2007
sleep
When I was a teenager, I had an extremely comfortable double bed. It had just the right combination of firm and sinky for me. I had a black sheet, a black and white duvet cover and purple pillowcases. My room was cavelike and I had a teddy bear, which added to the comfort level, really.
I had the luxury of doing the teenage sleeping thing, staying up late reading or watching tv and then sleeping through the day. Delicious. I can remember the feeling of being just awake enough to know I was asleep and enjoy it, so snuggly and warm and absolutely just right.
When I met and then moved in with my husband, we used to sleep a lot too. Not so much in the morning because I'd wake up before him and get bored and then annoy him awake, but we'd nap a lot. Incredibly indulgent middle of the day naps, it was so great to sleep beside someone. So comfortable and comforting.
Our first daughter has only just started sleeping at the age of just four. We're still not guaranteed a full night, though it's more likely and she seems to be catching up - I can't get her out of bed in the morning now, it's like waking a teenager!
But it's been four years of sleep dep hell. We made a lot of mistakes, but I also think it was just her - she came with a sleep-resistant coating. I look back on a sleep diary I kept for a while while I was trying to get her to feed less and she was still waking several times a night and causing fuss about going to bed. I developed a horrible tooth grinding habit that has really affected my teeth and cost me a lot of money. It took me a long time to notice it but basically as soon as I fall asleep I start to clench my jaw, which I also do when I'm driving, unconscious of myself.
Here's a sample:
7pm down to sleep
9.45 woke for milk and soother
10.15 bathwater woke her, had to feed her
1 am dream feed
3.10 am woke for feed
5.40 woke hungry, didn't go back, wet vest
And that was when she was 7 months old, it had been much wore! She used to sleep for maybe 40 minutes at a go.
I fell asleep after I got on the motorway with her in the car one day - I presume for a split second, I noticed as my head nodded, but Jesus!
My husband too, would go to work and put his head on the counter until a customer came in, or would sleep for five minutes at a time on the pallets in the store room. We were zombies.
Things are more normal now but I'm only 6 months pregnant - just as my daughter began to sleep in a normal way, I stopped being able to - you know the story, back pain, needing to get up to the loo, general discomfort, dreams. In the first trimester, I just had to nap and in fairness to her, she did get on with her own thing for the most part - but I just couldn't stay awake.
Yesterday I got a snooze attack again at about 4.30. I lay down in bed and just couldn't keep my eyes open - though my daughter called me to come and look at her work every three minutes, and I could feel my whole being just yearning for a proper hour of sleep, that comfortable, comforting, 'this is what I need, I'm so glad I'm asleep' sleep. And that's what got me pondering, remembering the good old days.
I have a fear that by the time my kids are big enough to let me sleep again, I'll be in that menopausal or middle aged no man's land of not being able to get enough sleep anymore! It's terrifying!
Having said that, last night I dreamed that my husband had bought me a pony for my birthday. This morning I feel incredibly touched, as if that particular little girls' dream has actually come true. That has to be a good sign, right?
I had the luxury of doing the teenage sleeping thing, staying up late reading or watching tv and then sleeping through the day. Delicious. I can remember the feeling of being just awake enough to know I was asleep and enjoy it, so snuggly and warm and absolutely just right.
When I met and then moved in with my husband, we used to sleep a lot too. Not so much in the morning because I'd wake up before him and get bored and then annoy him awake, but we'd nap a lot. Incredibly indulgent middle of the day naps, it was so great to sleep beside someone. So comfortable and comforting.
Our first daughter has only just started sleeping at the age of just four. We're still not guaranteed a full night, though it's more likely and she seems to be catching up - I can't get her out of bed in the morning now, it's like waking a teenager!
But it's been four years of sleep dep hell. We made a lot of mistakes, but I also think it was just her - she came with a sleep-resistant coating. I look back on a sleep diary I kept for a while while I was trying to get her to feed less and she was still waking several times a night and causing fuss about going to bed. I developed a horrible tooth grinding habit that has really affected my teeth and cost me a lot of money. It took me a long time to notice it but basically as soon as I fall asleep I start to clench my jaw, which I also do when I'm driving, unconscious of myself.
Here's a sample:
7pm down to sleep
9.45 woke for milk and soother
10.15 bathwater woke her, had to feed her
1 am dream feed
3.10 am woke for feed
5.40 woke hungry, didn't go back, wet vest
And that was when she was 7 months old, it had been much wore! She used to sleep for maybe 40 minutes at a go.
I fell asleep after I got on the motorway with her in the car one day - I presume for a split second, I noticed as my head nodded, but Jesus!
My husband too, would go to work and put his head on the counter until a customer came in, or would sleep for five minutes at a time on the pallets in the store room. We were zombies.
Things are more normal now but I'm only 6 months pregnant - just as my daughter began to sleep in a normal way, I stopped being able to - you know the story, back pain, needing to get up to the loo, general discomfort, dreams. In the first trimester, I just had to nap and in fairness to her, she did get on with her own thing for the most part - but I just couldn't stay awake.
Yesterday I got a snooze attack again at about 4.30. I lay down in bed and just couldn't keep my eyes open - though my daughter called me to come and look at her work every three minutes, and I could feel my whole being just yearning for a proper hour of sleep, that comfortable, comforting, 'this is what I need, I'm so glad I'm asleep' sleep. And that's what got me pondering, remembering the good old days.
I have a fear that by the time my kids are big enough to let me sleep again, I'll be in that menopausal or middle aged no man's land of not being able to get enough sleep anymore! It's terrifying!
Having said that, last night I dreamed that my husband had bought me a pony for my birthday. This morning I feel incredibly touched, as if that particular little girls' dream has actually come true. That has to be a good sign, right?
books
Not baby books. Real books. There are some new books out I want to read before the baby comes and my reading time ends for another few years.
Tracy Chevalier has a new one about William Blake I love the sound of. I must read a biography of him - he saw God in some very Anne Rice way, I think. Come to think of it, she's writing 'religious writing' now - I must find out what that means - religious fiction or theology?
One of my favourite 'chicklit' authors, Lisa Jewel has a new one out, something with an address in the title, I think. I love her books, her characters are great and there's something very fresh about them. I like her coincidences and time spans. It all comes together into something quite believable - and amazingly, I got one or two of her books free from magazines (my favourite experience) and one from the recycling - Happy Days!
I don't think I've read Janet Evanovich's 12th, or Terry Pratchett (hah, I just wrote Terry Potter) 's Wintersmith - I know someone I can borrow the former off next weekend! (I must write that down) - it's that or buy it in Tesco for €8. I develop OCD about certain novelists, those are my only options for TP. And I'd borrow the JE from my bf except she's in England, so it complicates things - I think I may have two of her other JEs and she never wants to lug them home again, guilt, guilt.
And finally, the last Harry Potter is out this summer - unfortunately I think the baby will just beat him to it - why must the English school holidays be so short? And I'm worried about reading it post-baby hormonally, the last one was sad enough. Will I be able to face more deaths?
What else?
DVDs - I still haven't seen Little Miss Sunshine or James Bond. Actually, I know someone who has The Bond movie. I must definitely write all this down, We should all do swapsies more often - though that only works if people return things promptly, which leaves me right out!
Tracy Chevalier has a new one about William Blake I love the sound of. I must read a biography of him - he saw God in some very Anne Rice way, I think. Come to think of it, she's writing 'religious writing' now - I must find out what that means - religious fiction or theology?
One of my favourite 'chicklit' authors, Lisa Jewel has a new one out, something with an address in the title, I think. I love her books, her characters are great and there's something very fresh about them. I like her coincidences and time spans. It all comes together into something quite believable - and amazingly, I got one or two of her books free from magazines (my favourite experience) and one from the recycling - Happy Days!
I don't think I've read Janet Evanovich's 12th, or Terry Pratchett (hah, I just wrote Terry Potter) 's Wintersmith - I know someone I can borrow the former off next weekend! (I must write that down) - it's that or buy it in Tesco for €8. I develop OCD about certain novelists, those are my only options for TP. And I'd borrow the JE from my bf except she's in England, so it complicates things - I think I may have two of her other JEs and she never wants to lug them home again, guilt, guilt.
And finally, the last Harry Potter is out this summer - unfortunately I think the baby will just beat him to it - why must the English school holidays be so short? And I'm worried about reading it post-baby hormonally, the last one was sad enough. Will I be able to face more deaths?
What else?
DVDs - I still haven't seen Little Miss Sunshine or James Bond. Actually, I know someone who has The Bond movie. I must definitely write all this down, We should all do swapsies more often - though that only works if people return things promptly, which leaves me right out!
Sunday, April 15, 2007
gestational intolerance
I am aware that I am an intolerant person at the best of times. My 'pet peeve' (sorry, what a horrible phrase, and understates the spine shuddering reaction I have) is people making slurpy noises - eating, champing chewing slurping noises. Or teeth-grinding, heavy breathing, sniffing, the list goes on and on and on...
But God, when I'm pregnant... my husband was snoring the other night as I was doing the crossword and a vicious and sudden urge to stab him in the back with my pen swept over me. I've had to get earplugs so I can eat with him - he breathes in while chewing open-mouthed, he once injured his nose and apparently can't breathethrough it and eat anymore. And his mother does the same thing, they both cram in three bites of food and chew with their mouths open, though she's more spitty and inclined to converse while eating. Normally I can grin and bear it but at the moment I feel like running screaming from the room as my the hot icy burning shudder runs from my neck all the way down my spine.
When I was first breastfeeding my daughter I remember being stuck on the sofa with her, nipples screaming, with my husband masticating beside me, and never feeling so trapped and hysterical in my life.
Ugh. Give me nails on a blackboard any day.
The worst thing about this affliction of mine is that it's not ok to ask people to try and stop. It's too intolerant, persnickety, picky, bitchy, over reactionary. So not only am I TORTURED by it, people also hate and blame ME for it. I can see why, really. But that doesn't help.
But God, when I'm pregnant... my husband was snoring the other night as I was doing the crossword and a vicious and sudden urge to stab him in the back with my pen swept over me. I've had to get earplugs so I can eat with him - he breathes in while chewing open-mouthed, he once injured his nose and apparently can't breathethrough it and eat anymore. And his mother does the same thing, they both cram in three bites of food and chew with their mouths open, though she's more spitty and inclined to converse while eating. Normally I can grin and bear it but at the moment I feel like running screaming from the room as my the hot icy burning shudder runs from my neck all the way down my spine.
When I was first breastfeeding my daughter I remember being stuck on the sofa with her, nipples screaming, with my husband masticating beside me, and never feeling so trapped and hysterical in my life.
Ugh. Give me nails on a blackboard any day.
The worst thing about this affliction of mine is that it's not ok to ask people to try and stop. It's too intolerant, persnickety, picky, bitchy, over reactionary. So not only am I TORTURED by it, people also hate and blame ME for it. I can see why, really. But that doesn't help.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
baby accessory lust
I've just been trolling ebay for designer nappy bags. My problem is I do want to pay €250 for one. Or even €100. But I still want something colourful and gorgeous. And useful. Something that will afford me the same joy as buying myself a beautiful handbag would. Except that would be an immoral thing to spend on when I don't have any money - at least the nappy bag has a purpose, a function, a use!
And I did find an Oilily bag for £4.99 but I suspect that's because it's bright orange and ugly. I debated with myself and discovered cheerfully that I wasn't shallow enough to buy something just because it's designer and I could afford it. So I kept looking and found a beautiful pink Oilily one from Sweden, £49.99 + £10 p&p. Still too much.
Sadly I no longer have family who might rush to my aid on special occasions and buy me the things I lust after but don't earn enough to buy for myself. It is sad, and I keep noticing other people excusing their little indulgences as their mother or aunt or whoever bought it for them as a baby gift. On the other hand, I'm in my thirties now and am well aware I have no right to expect anyone else to buy me things! But the yearning for pressies lingers on. Not enough to find a highly paid, full time job (not that I haven't tried) and not see my children - just enough to whinge about...
I've just read an article on spending less, beating the impulse buying bug and losing that addiction to shopper's rush that I am so familiar with! And it all makes sense. Save money and buy something really nice and enduring instead of just randomly buying THINGS all the time. A great idea.
The question is, which category does the lovely nappy bag come under? With my first daughter I resisted the lure of the Expensive Bag and never had a specific nappy bag at all. I'm not sure I was better off. And I was broke anyway!
Here's a link. What do you think?
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/Oilily-Nappy-Shoulder-School-Multi-Bag-Sum-06Col-BNWT_W0QQitemZ140105677429QQihZ004QQcategoryZ15558QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem
And I did find an Oilily bag for £4.99 but I suspect that's because it's bright orange and ugly. I debated with myself and discovered cheerfully that I wasn't shallow enough to buy something just because it's designer and I could afford it. So I kept looking and found a beautiful pink Oilily one from Sweden, £49.99 + £10 p&p. Still too much.
Sadly I no longer have family who might rush to my aid on special occasions and buy me the things I lust after but don't earn enough to buy for myself. It is sad, and I keep noticing other people excusing their little indulgences as their mother or aunt or whoever bought it for them as a baby gift. On the other hand, I'm in my thirties now and am well aware I have no right to expect anyone else to buy me things! But the yearning for pressies lingers on. Not enough to find a highly paid, full time job (not that I haven't tried) and not see my children - just enough to whinge about...
I've just read an article on spending less, beating the impulse buying bug and losing that addiction to shopper's rush that I am so familiar with! And it all makes sense. Save money and buy something really nice and enduring instead of just randomly buying THINGS all the time. A great idea.
The question is, which category does the lovely nappy bag come under? With my first daughter I resisted the lure of the Expensive Bag and never had a specific nappy bag at all. I'm not sure I was better off. And I was broke anyway!
Here's a link. What do you think?
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/Oilily-Nappy-Shoulder-School-Multi-Bag-Sum-06Col-BNWT_W0QQitemZ140105677429QQihZ004QQcategoryZ15558QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Pregnancy Island
I don't enjoy much about pregancy... morning sickness, breathlessness, raging desire for cake, piles (see, I'm trying to create a negative association for cake for myself), uncomfrtable sleeping, exhaustion, sciatica, weight gain, lalalala.... but I feel if I could go and live on pregnancy island for the duration, these things would be less noticeable.
Picture this - instead of wearing support tights so you can stand up all day without getting varicose veins, you go live in a luxury beach hut on silver sand, and fall asleep at night lulled by the lapping waves. If you get hot, a boy materialises and fans you with a big palm leaf. Well behaved servants bring you drinks exotic enough that you don't miss alcohol, and you are given three delicious and healthy meals a day, prepared by a chef. Fresh, delicious, ripe fruit abounds.
You spend your days walking on the beach, swimming in the warm sea or hot springs. Pleasant, atractive people massage you on demand. You meditate and float a lot. You write, walk, paint and talk to your baby. You do lots of yoga, with other pregnant women and talk to them about pregnancy and babies without worrying that you're boring them to death.
The sun seeps into your centre and you are not anxious.
Ach, I started off amused, but now I just feel bereft. I want to go to Pregnancy Island!
Picture this - instead of wearing support tights so you can stand up all day without getting varicose veins, you go live in a luxury beach hut on silver sand, and fall asleep at night lulled by the lapping waves. If you get hot, a boy materialises and fans you with a big palm leaf. Well behaved servants bring you drinks exotic enough that you don't miss alcohol, and you are given three delicious and healthy meals a day, prepared by a chef. Fresh, delicious, ripe fruit abounds.
You spend your days walking on the beach, swimming in the warm sea or hot springs. Pleasant, atractive people massage you on demand. You meditate and float a lot. You write, walk, paint and talk to your baby. You do lots of yoga, with other pregnant women and talk to them about pregnancy and babies without worrying that you're boring them to death.
The sun seeps into your centre and you are not anxious.
Ach, I started off amused, but now I just feel bereft. I want to go to Pregnancy Island!
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
I heart swimming
Ooo, I had a nice swim today. They always are. I had a cushy health club membership when I was pregnant with my first but sadly not any more. So today I had freebie tickets to a pool in a gym - very functional (and cold!) but so nice. And as they had a really shallow toddlers' pool my daughter suddenly started swimming beautifully for the first time. Fantastic!
It feels so good to swim when you're pregnant and overweight like me - it's the only time I ever feel physically adept and fast. And I love the idea of the baby swimming inside me while floating in a bigger pool.
I wonder if it's a good way to turn mapresented babies - you could do summersaults underwater and they'd have loads of free space - though holding your breath isn't such a good idea, I guess.
I wish I had a pool. I'd swim twice a day!
It feels so good to swim when you're pregnant and overweight like me - it's the only time I ever feel physically adept and fast. And I love the idea of the baby swimming inside me while floating in a bigger pool.
I wonder if it's a good way to turn mapresented babies - you could do summersaults underwater and they'd have loads of free space - though holding your breath isn't such a good idea, I guess.
I wish I had a pool. I'd swim twice a day!
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
intro
I'm getting bored with my maternity website - I've read all the posts, and myself and the general public are getting at eachother - the honeymoon is over! Being accused of endangering the lives of others' prevaccinated babies with my measle ridden, unvaccinated spawn has left me cold. But I'm still addicted to pontificating. So a blog it is.
I'm 27 weeks pregnant today! Feeling TIRED. Am in the midst of locking horns with my MIL over babysitting issues with my first (thankfully the husband is on my side this time!) and am disttressed because my SIL's baby is transverse breach, she's been given two weeks to get it turned and then it's danger stations leading up to the scheduled CSection - but she doesn't want to take the baby turning homoeopathic remedy. Why will people put so much faith in dangerous drugs but refuse anything benign yet unfamiliar, even when dire consequences are around the corner?
And I'm reading Eragon, a find in the local recycling centre bookshelf, and loving it. Preteen sci-fantasy is so my world! It's distracting me from working though, AGAIN.
Welcome to the blog, if you find it. Regular ranting to follow!
I'm 27 weeks pregnant today! Feeling TIRED. Am in the midst of locking horns with my MIL over babysitting issues with my first (thankfully the husband is on my side this time!) and am disttressed because my SIL's baby is transverse breach, she's been given two weeks to get it turned and then it's danger stations leading up to the scheduled CSection - but she doesn't want to take the baby turning homoeopathic remedy. Why will people put so much faith in dangerous drugs but refuse anything benign yet unfamiliar, even when dire consequences are around the corner?
And I'm reading Eragon, a find in the local recycling centre bookshelf, and loving it. Preteen sci-fantasy is so my world! It's distracting me from working though, AGAIN.
Welcome to the blog, if you find it. Regular ranting to follow!
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