Following on from What Babies Really Want To Play With, you'll note there's a reoccurring theme, that of Moomin's passion to empty things, all the things, every things. Bags, purses, packets, shelves, cupboards and her personal favourite, a packet of baby wipes.  Now I could fork out £20 or so and buy a shiny plastic toy designed to put things in and take them out again, or I could just be a cheap skate and make one because, newsflash, she actually couldn't give a toss what it looks like, it's the act she likes.

I had copious amounts of old cloth wipes that we no longer use (thanks to the lovely Cheeky Wipes that have replaced them!) They're just small baby flannels that you can buy in packs of 5 or 6 from the pound shop.  The Dude had recently got some new trainers, so I wrestled the box from him, tapes it together, made a slot in the top (and taped round this too) and stuffed it with the flannels (and a load of used gift cards, don't ask!) Voila.  Best game ever.  She can now empty to her heart's content, granted she doesn't want to put them back yet but that's all part of the game, if you attempt to refill them it's a race against the Moomin as she crawls at hyper speed to empty them as fast as you put them back!

The money saved?  Can be put into the fund for a trip out somewhere, after all, memories are priceless.

What babies really want for their first birthday

Even as I type this I still find it hard to believe that Moomin will be a year old at the end of this month.  A whole year old.  How?!  It's cruel how quickly time slips through our fingers, I can still remember going into labour to birth her.

As she's our fourth baby, she already has a toy shop worth of toys that were once her siblings as well as token additions just for her.  Advertisements, shops and catalogues are near exploding with noisy, shiny things that she absolutely needs, apparently.

She can't talk yet, what with her being 11 months old and nor can she write her own birthday list.

What would she want though if she could tell us?  It's not hard to work out, all it takes is an exercise in observation.

So I present to you, the birthday list of what a one year old really wants to play with:

Sleeping like a baby

At Moomin's 9 month review with the Health Visitor I was asked how well she sleeps.

I responded that she sleeps like a baby. I then expanded on this by explaining that she wakes when she needs to as is biologically appropriate for infants.

I'm so tired of the pressure parents are under to get their babies to 'sleep through' the night, like it's proof of good parenting or worse..... a 'good baby'. It's not only bollocks, it's dangerous bollocks.

Some babies do indeed sleep through the night (which technically only needs to be a 6 hour run of sleep to qualify as sleeping through) and some babies don't. Newsflash. ..many toddlers don't either.

And that's OK.

That's what they fail to tell you.

15 baby and parenting 'firsts' the books never tell you about

The Reality of parenthood firsts....

Babies have many firsts that you want to experience and record from their first smile, first tooth, rolling, sitting up, first word, cruising to walking etc.  Yet, what about the firsts the books don't tell you about, the real unglamourous baby firsts?

Review: Scratch Sleeves

Little Moomin has Eczema. Awful Eczema.  All over her gorgeous face.  Three courses of Hydrocortisone cream and three different moisturisers (one of which made her howl) later and we're in the  midst of yet another flare up.

During the day I can distract her or at worse put socks on her hands.  Yes, socks.  She makes impressively short work of removing 'scratch mits' within mere seconds.  Night is a whole new ball game, aptly called 'baby scratches her face off'.  She can now remove socks from her hands within seconds too and despite them being cotton they're still textured and ever so mildly abrasive.

Some retailers sell sleepsuits with nifty fold over cuffs that become mits yet it would appear that once your baby outgrows size 3-6 months you'd have more luck acquiring rocking horse shit.

Then there's the conundrum of not always needing a sleepsuit with sleeping bags dependent on temperature due to overheating risks.

Then I found Scratch Sleeves.

I don't get much time to type at the moment so the review is through videos.  Bare in mind I'm not a 'v-blogger', It's one handed using my phone and I'm sleep deprived.

First impressions...




Part 2



Since the videos were made we've been using the Scratch Sleeves for around a month or so.  Poor Moomin's eczema is worse than ever at the moment so they've been a god send at night

There's no getting around the fact that they're expensive... more so when, in my opinion, one pair simply isn't enough.  If needed for day and night I'd suggest a minimum of 3-4 pairs. It's not even a 'want', once you've tried them you'll quickly realise they fall very much into the 'need' category if you have a baby/child with eczema.  Then there's the fact they're sized so you'll then have to purchase in the next size up when they grow as too small will be restrictive and uncomfortable yet too big and they'll be able to slip their hands out, so it really is important you buy the exact size you currently need.  It's a shame they can't engineer a comfortable adjustment yet the obvious button or press stud options would probably be uncomfortable for baby.  I'd also like to see these available on prescription as I genuinely believe they're that essential!  No matter how much she rubs her face (and believe me she rubs a lot) I can sleep knowing she's not drawing blood or clawing strips from her face as opposed to putting matchsticks in my eyes to keep them open so I can constantly retrieve/return mittens/socks to her hands throughout the night because all it takes is one scratch and there's blood.

Even more impressive is the fact she genuinely doesn't seem to mind wearing them!

I'm sold on them.  Unfortunately we only have the one pair so we save them for nights and she's growing quick so as soon as the purse strings allow we'll be buying at least two more (whilst starting to save for two more to make four) as she's getting quicker and quicker and removing socks from her hands which she needs to wear during the day.

It was only when I forgot they were in the wash pile and had to resort to socks one night that I fully realised how much we'd come to rely on them! What a crap night's sleep that was!

Obviously they won't cure eczema but anything that makes it more bearable is worth it's weight in gold.  It's heartbreaking seeing your baby in so much discomfort.  I can't stop her rubbing but with these I can at least minimise the damage she can do to herself!

You can purchase these direct from www.scratchsleeves.co.uk  or via Amazon.


***I purchased these myself and felt compelled to review them.  All opinions expressed are genuine and my own.

Review: Monkey Mama Teething/Fiddle Necklace

www.tiarasandprozac.co.uk

I've spent a lot of time nursing.  In total I've nursed for over 7 years.  A lot of baby items I find superfluous and terribly gimmicky and thus refuse to be lured in by their ridiculous beguile.  Other items are just absolutely necessary.  Then there's those items that you never knew you needed until in a sleep deprived frivolous mania you buy one and then wonder why on earth you'd never bought one sooner.

If you're a breastfeeder chances are you've been scratched, pinched and poked by the talons of your vicious spawn mid feed as their wandering paws 'explore' your landscape leading to you exploring the depths of your blue vocabulary.  It's not that they're gits per se... They know not what they do. Honest.   They're just curious little beasts. They're also easily distracted and without something to focus on can become fussy at the best resulting in stretchio-nippleo syndrome (yes, I did just absolutely invent that term) as they attempt to pull away and look at something whilst still in the process of nursing.  Ouch. Sods.

With Thing Two I bought a 'nursing necklace' which was basically a long necklace of lurid plastic beads.  It was supposed to enchant her. It was supposed to entertain her. It was supposed to stop her gouging into tits with itty baby claws .  Yet the only thing it achieved was making me look like a prat.   Even The Dude wouldn't entertain it unless he wasn't feeding and he could wear it.  Much more fun to grab a fistful of my flesh and pinch whilst feeding.  But hey,  it's okay, he stared adoringly into my eyes as he did it.

The only thing that occasionally engaged their hands was a muslin placed between their grappling fist and my ginormo boob of doom.  If the muslin remotely attempted to impart an iota of modesty to us it was ripped off with an angry growl through a suckling mouth full of boob. What can I say?  My kids are proud of feeding and like to show it.

With Moomin being our last ever baby I'm on a mission to try the things I've been curious about.  I've been drawn to the beautiful simplicity of wooden fiddle necklaces for a while.  They're beautiful and wearable. They're understated and tactile.  They don't scream out baby or functional. Then I found the teething necklaces.   Thing Two was rather partial to teething on the leather strap of my Mother's handbag; strange child.  It still bares the teeth marks.   As I'm a babywearer it would be handy to have something always  at hand for Moomin to chomp on with the added bonus of being able to fiddle with it instead of yanking my hair. I bought mine from the lovely Monkey Mama Necklaces.

As soon as it arrived I put it on. It has an adjustable cord so can be worn as a long pendant when nursing for baby to fiddle with or to chomp on when sat on my knee. Worn shorter she can access it when in the sling.  Without a baby it simply looks like a funky necklace.

What can I say?  She loved it.  As soon as her hands began to stray and grab fist fulls of my flesh I'd dangle the pendant near them and she'd grasp it.  She's since fallen asleep several times clutching it tight.  It was invaluable at entertaining her at the recent influx of school performances keeping her occupied in my arms and on my knee as she fiddled and gummed it.  She evidently finds something satisfying and comforting about the tactile nature of the wood and the beads.

The only problem I face now is that as I wear it daily I find myself wanting a selection of them in different styles and colours! 

I highly recommend them regardless of wether you breastfed or babywear as all babies have curious hands and pesky gums. 

You can buy one from Monkey Mama Necklaces.  She makes a variety of fiddle necklaces and teething necklaces varying from natural to subtle to fun and colourful.

***Disclaimer: I received neither payment nor gift for this review.  I bought the necklace myself and was impressed enough to share.  All views and images are my own.

Please note these are not a toy.  These should be worn by an adult and babies and toddlers should be supervised at all times.

www.tiarasandprozac.co.uk

The Vest Epiphany

Using this image without linking to here isn't sharing it's just theft.  

You've heard the old adage 'you learn something new everyday' or even 'you can't teach an old dog new tricks'? Well this old dog recently learned a very new trick.

Ten years I've been a Mum, ten years.  Not once in these ten years did I question why baby vests have envelope shoulders.  I just blithely accepted that this is how the world is.  Sure, it makes them a bit easier to get them over baby's head but that's about it.  Then somebody on a FaceBook parenting group enlightened me with the news that the shoulder design serves a purpose.  We've all been there, your baby has created a poonami.  Shit (or vomit) has quite literally hit the fan (and everywhere else).  You need to strip baby and hose them down. You fear things couldn't possibly get any worse until you try to get the vest over their head (something many babies object to even when the vest isn't dripping with shit) cue poo being moved up over their chest, shoulders and in their hair.

So what if I told you that you can roll the vests down and take them off that way?  Crisis averted.

If you already knew this, why didn't you tell me?! If this is news to you, like it was to me, welcome to enlightenment!

Ever the cynic I decided to try this strange witchery out.  It works.  Better still, it works one handed! How do I know this? why, I filmed it of course!  Actually I filmed it twice.  The first time was a genuine poonami situation yet I feared the site of explosive breastfed poo splattered baby may traumatise you so I did it again with a clean Moomin then tossed a coin as to which one I blogged.  Excuse the crap video, I'm not a V-Blogger, it was midnight with shit lighting and it's filmed one handed with my phone. Oh and yes, Moomin did infact poo mid video.  She's her Father's child.

***Disclaimer: this entry is a bit of fun, a parenting hack. Obviously I don't know if this is officially the reason they were designed this way but it's certainly made my life a whole lot easier!   I should imagine they're intended to make it easier to go over their disproportionately large heads ;)

Moomin's Birth Story

Out of all my pregnancies, this last one was the only 'surprise'.  The Husband and I had marriage shattering debates on the topic as I desperately longed for one more baby and he categorically declared no.  It's hard to accept something that someone else has decided with regards to something that means so much to you.  However when it comes to having children, both partners have to be on the same page.

So how apt that after all that, our darling Moomin decided for us, there would indeed be a fourth baby.

I knew from the very start that this is it, my last ever pregnancy and wanted to cherish every moment of my final pregnancy.  Pregnancy enthralls and fascinates me.  I find it awe inspiring and magical that a whole life...a soul..a person is created.  Yet it's hard to enjoy something when you're so affected. 

By 39 weeks I'd had enough.  We're not talking the usual full term fed up blues here.  We're talking about being virtually housebound for months leaving the house around once a week due to chronic pain.  Hip pain, pelvic pain, back pain.  It hurt to sit, to stand, to lay down. Everything hurt then add to that sciatica that felt like it was on steroids.  9 months of unmedicated mental health wasn't helping combined with the M.E/CFS and Insomnia.  I couldn't go anywhere or do anything.  Even the family annual day out to Blackpool was cancelled because of my pain.  The summer holidays were a wash out, it was heartbreaking not even being able to bend down to pick something up or walk to the shops let alone do anything with my children.  This has the knock on effect of The Husband having to do everything.  Then came two weeks of back to back headaches/migraines and a chest infection which 5 weeks later i'm still recovering from.  Needless to say I was miserable.  All out of cope.  I spent my time either in tears or in a venomously vile mood.  I was awful to be around.  The straw that broke the pregzillahs back was the sweep, or lack of.  It had been agreed with my Midwife for some time that i'd get an early sweep at my 39+5 appointment.  I was living for this day.  It was the beacon that stopped me spiraling into quite frankly, despair.  

39+5 came.  I knew my cervix was favourable.  I didn't get a sweep.  Moomin was still 'free'.  The Midwife declared the (small) risk of cord prolapse meant she couldn't do it.  I respect this.  I'd never want her to do something she wasn't comfortable with.  Yet not once did she discuss ways to get her to engage or even the fact that Moomin is my fourth baby and was unlikely to engage before labour anyway and that labour itself is often what makes them engage. However, knowing my predicament she had several choices:

1. Refer me to the hospital to see if they'd be willing to do a sweep

2. Offer to check babies position again in a few days

3. Discuss induction

What she actually did was say 'see you in a week'.  

This quite frankly broke the tiny parts of me that weren't already broken.  I'll be honest, I felt let down and abandoned by her.  She just didn't seem to care, at all.  The level of pain i was in and the mental health issues should have flagged her to keep an eye on me, she just didn't care.  When she left I had to disappear to my room, away from The Spawn and cried, for 40 minutes solid.  

I couldn't talk about sweeps, labour, babies or pregnancy without falling, hard, into the dark.  I finally got to a GP for antibiotics after three weeks of a chest infection and broke down in tears.  Bare in mind, apart from in this particular pregnancy, I don't cry.  Especially in front of anyone. Even The Husband has only ever seen me cry around 5 times in 14 years and three of those were in this pregnancy.

The darkness was around me.  My head was broken.  I even did something I'd never done before and cut off one of my only lifelines to real people and deactivated my facebook.  Sounds mellow dramatic but other than my family, the only contact I have with other humans is online.

The antibiotics I got at 40+3 didn't agree with me at all.  I started to feel nauseous, I couldn't eat or sleep and just felt shaky and 'strange' so had to stop taking them.

My bottle of clary sage oil was now empty.  I'd been riding my birth ball like a cowgirl on crack.  I'd been twiddling my nipples like a bored porn star.  Nothing.  Nada.  Not even a tickle let alone a cramp.

Don't get me wrong, I'd have begrudgingly held on an extra month if I wasn't so debilitated, in fact it would have ensured Moomin would start school at 5 instead or 4 which I'd love.  

40+5 The Midwife came round.  Immune to my misery and despondence.  Moomin still not engaged yet now she decides she actually would try a sweep despite my situation being identical to last week when she'd refused.   

She recorded me as having a Bishops Score of 6, stated I was 2-3 cm's dilated and that my waters would be incredibly easy to break.  She booked me in for an induction for 41+5.

With Things One & Two labour started 4 hours after my sweep.  With The Little Dude (formerly The Preschooler) labour started within 24 hours.

Back on the birth ball I went, yet no cramps or anything.  That evening I lost lost copious amounts of the mucus plug and soon that was followed by bloody shows which continued throughout the next day yet that was it.  No twinges or cramps or anything else.  Zilch.  Nada.  Induction it would be then. A whole week to get through.

Until i woke up two days after the sweep at exactly 41+0. I went to run a bath and felt a drip down my thigh.  Not an 'oops my pelvic floor is drunk' drip.  Strange.  I returned to my room and felt, heard then saw random splats of clear liquid hit the carpet.  My waters have never broken on their own before, they'd always been broken during labour by a Midwife, usually minutes/seconds before a baby followed.  

In labour tradition I text my bestie.  Still unconvinced it was my waters yet unable to substitute an alternative explanation for the splats of liquid that were constantly dripping.  Still no pains, no cramps not even a rumble in the tummy.  This was approximately 09:35am.

09:50 I phoned antenatal Triage.  She told me to put a pad on and a community Midwife would call round within 6 hours to check on me and to phone back if any pain started.  

At around 09:55 the community Midwife phoned to tell me she was on a visit but would come round within the hour.  Dean called his parents telling them to start the two bus journey to get here.

10.00 Ouch. No preamble.  Full on knee buckling contraction.  The Husband phones his parents back and tells them to sod the buses, get a taxi. NOW.

10:10 I'd had three huge contractions lasting 1.5-2 minutes each.  

After the next few I stopped timing because they were on top of each other.  I couldn't tell when they started and stopped any more.  I was breathless, in tears, leaning over the cot gripping it for dear life.  Waters still dripping, then gushing....continually.  Knickers and pad are saturated.  I couldn't move.  I couldn't talk.  10-15 minutes before this I was 100% fine.

I call Triage SIX times, they're engaged.  I'm panicking. The Community Midwife calls to check on me and tells me to go to hospital immediately, she'll tell triage for me.  Dean phones for an ambulance but not until his parents arrived to look after The Spawn, I was on all fours rocking, gasping through none relenting pain, trying to remember how to breath as my waters continue to gush and drip through what seems like an eternal contraction, no break.

The ambulance took 30+ minutes to get here.  I won't lie, I had images of The Husband having to deliver.  

The paramedics come up to my bedroom where i'm on all fours on a nest of towels, the 999 phone operative had tried to get dean to convince me to lay on my back, wasn't going to happen. The longest walk ever ensued, hobbling down the stairs, rigid with pain, a towel between my legs, in my slippers up the outside steps and towards the ambulance where thank fuck, they had Entinox.

When in pain, I become incredibly detached and internalised, this is often mistaken for an absence of pain when in fact it's the reverse.  The more removed from people and situ I become the more I'm engulfed in pain.  I was guessing I'd be at least 8cm.  I refused to accept I'd be any more.  One of the reasons I barley have to push to birth my babies is because I block out the feeling of needing to push so that they descend completely on their own.  I guess it's a form of denial.  

The journey seemed to take forever, the paramedic wouldn't shut up and the Entinox kept making sounds like a ripe fart.

At the hospital the paramedics take me in on the bed, to the central delivery unit where we were met with a right battle axe of a midwife, with a 'none shall pass' attitude claiming she had no idea who we were and why we were there.  A human midwife took pity and asked if maybe we were booked in with the birth suite (midwife led).  Yes, why yes I am..... the paramedics had brought us to the wrong place as they had no idea there were two.  We eventually got to the right place.  In an Entinox high I just about manage to get from the ambulance bed trolley to the beanbag bed and roll onto my side.

The Midwife starts to read my notes and birthplan.  She tries to carry out her initial checks but to do that she needs a break in the contractions yet she could see there were none.  Eventually she just about managed to get my BP and heart rate done.  I can't move.  I'm actually rigid with pain yet she needed me to roll onto my back to check me.  I'm still in my clothes and slippers.  I beg for diamorphine, she manages to look and tells me it's too late, babies head is already there.  It probably had been for quite a while.  

Denial. This is not happening.  This is not part of the plan.  Where's my water birth?  Where's my diamorphine?  I'm still fully dressed.  I know she's right though.  I pretended to myself I couldn't feel it but of course I'd known, somewhere in my head, all along that that horrendous weight down below bearing down was her head.  No way could I push her out without more drugs.  I was desperate for us all to be wrong, so secretly flexed more then bore down, a nudge so to speak.  More like a fart than a poo.  Just to test.  Shit.... that's all it took and her head was out.  We'd been there less than 20 minutes.  The surprise is like thinking you've farted and realising you've actually shat yourself.  That tiny little experiment should not have resulted in her head being born!  I did it again, more a reflex than an actual effort and the body whooshed out with even more liquid.  That was it.  She was born.  That's all it took.  I stared at this vernix covered chunky baby being held up to me in disbelief.  How had this happened?  I can only describe it as surreal.  

Moomin was cross.  Really cross.  Pissed of even.  I jokingly remarked mid Entinox high that she's pissed off by the lack of available boob.  I was right.  I stripped off and she latched on immediately and began to feed for best part of an hour.  My others took days to really feed being sleepy from labour meds.  Moomin was alert and knew exactly what she wanted.

She's fed none stop since.

We were due to go home that evening but blood results came back that we had ABO incompatibility and she had to be observed for 24 hours.  Thankfully due to our absolutely amazing Midwife, because of my mental health issues she managed to secure me my own room and let us stay in the birth suite until The Husband left that evening.  She was so intuitive and respectful.  She left us alone with Moomin for an hour before even suggesting she got weighed etc.  I couldn't have asked for a better Midwife.  

Moomin turned out to be 8lb 14oz.  The vernix was so thick that they could only conduct part of the hearing test later that day as her other ear was full of it.

Labour was 90 minutes from the first contraction until birth.  She was born at 11.41am on Friday 29th August.  We registered her before we left the next day.  Afterpains are a horrid bitch.   I only needed three tiny stitches.

I am absolutely besotted with this little enchantress as are her siblings and The Husband.  She's still feeding like a champ.  In fact writing this up has been the longest she's been out of my arms, other than at night, since she was born 8 days ago.  She's fast asleep in her reclined chair next to me yet my arms ache to scoop her up as she spends the majority of her time laid on me.    She's my last baby.  I'm going to enjoy every cuddle I can.  As soon as they're born it's like someone presses fast forward on time.  I still can't believe she's already 8 days old.

The Naming Game | How to Name, or not name your child.

Have you ever looked back to when you were a little girl?  When you knew exactly how your wedding would be and you'd already named all your kids?  Then you have a real wedding and real children and everything changes.

I love naming. I love names.  Even though I know I shouldn't, as soon as those two lines stare at me my mind is already making name lists.  Generally by the 20 week scan we have our names sorted and as soon as we find out the gender, baby is named.  Occasionally we'll change or rearrange a middle name yet for the most part, that is the name our child keeps.

However, once you've got past the first trimester you realise that it's not just up to you, oh no, him indoors has a say too.  This wouldn't be so bad if they actually contributed something other then 'No' to every possible name you suggest.

With each pregnancy, our short list of names have been entirely different.  As far as I can remember there has only been one first name that has appeared on the shortlist for two different babies and The Husband said absolutely no both times.  He's an arse like that.

His sole contributions have been 'Lucy' for a girl and 'Kurgen' for a boy.  Every time.  Everytime I say no to the first (lovely name yet my first dog was called Lucy) and no to the second because cool The Highlander connotations aside, it's ugly and crap.

Moomin already has her name.  Sorry but I won't be sharing it as the kids have a right to anonymity on here.

It's not like I don't give The Husband enough choice, seeing his own lack on input yet quickness to discount my suggestions.  Indeed when pregnant with The Preschooler I gave him a long and varied list.  He either straight out vetoed a name with no excuse nor reason given or else he would offer the most tremendously obscure reasons ever.  I'll share some with you but i'll omit the names the comments relate to, you know, because one of your kids probably has one of the names.

"Albatross"

"Sounds like a tropical disease"

"Too biblical"

"One of my cousins (that we never see) has an adopted daughter (that we never see) called that"

"It makes me think of Salmonella"

"It's a cat's name"

"It's a doll from playschool"

"It's a 'nothing' name"

"Too Welsh"

"Too celebrity"

"Too predictable"

"Sounds like a skin disorder"

"A dog's name"

"That was name name of Rocky's wife and she was a shit character"

"Too boring"

"Something to do with a serial killer"

"Too stuck up"

"Too royal"

"Too boring"

"Too much like a stone"

"Too much like a daft bint from X-Factor"

" *just laughter*"

"Too Hollywood"

"Too hilarious"

"Too normal"

"Sounds like a waiter"

"Too Scottish"

"Too poncy"

"Too Swedish"

"Reminds him of Cher"

"Sounds like it should have Fever after"

See what I was up against?

So what do you take into account when naming your child?  Below are some of the questions you should perhaps mull over in your mind when choosing names:

1. Do I know anyone with that name? Do I like that person?

2. Have I ever shagged anyone with that name?

3. Have I ever had a pet with that name?

4. Does it mean 'evil git' or 'Wanton Whore' in some ancient language?

5. Does it spell something gross backwards?

6. How easy is it for someone to butcher the spelling of it?

7. Will my child have to forever spell it out to people?

8. How easy is it for people to fuck up the pronunciation of it?

9. Is there a particular pronunciation of it that I despise?

10. Have I ever met someone I absolutely abhor with that name?

11. Does my partner have an ex with that name?

12. What is it most likely to be shortened too by annoying cretins who insist on shortening names?

13.  Is my child likely to be in a classroom when they're older with several peers with the same name?

14. Would it make a good name for a film star? Prime Minister? Nurse? Bin man? Check out assistant?  News reader? Scientist? etc.

15.  Does it sound porny?

16. If you have other kids, can they pronounce the name? 

17. Does it rhyme with anything negative?

18.  Do the initials spell out anything obvious like BJ, STD or SEX?

19. Can you imagine yourself shouting it across the park?

20. After all that, do you actually still like it?

There have always been some personal pet hates I've had with names:

1. When people purposefully fuck with the spelling to make it 'cool' (this doesn't include legitimate alternative spellings)  Stop bastardising the names, if you don't like it choose something different!  A 'unique' spelling doesn't say 'this child is cool' it says 'this child has illiterate fuckwits for parents'  Stop swapping I's for Y's etc.  You may as well give them 'Jezza Kyle Fodder' for a middle name.  Remember when trying to define your future child, your name choice can say more about you than them!

2.  Choosing a full name when you have no actual intention of ever calling them anything other than the shortened version of it.  Ever. If the shortened version is name enough to use, then have it as their given name!

3.  People who choose a name yet can't actually pronounce it.  I came across a story of a child called Siobhan.  Her teacher naturally called her Siobhan (sh-vaun) until the parents corrected her, apparently their daughter was called Siobhan as in 'Si-o-ban'

4. The name Nenvaeh.

So Moomin is my last baby yet I still have so many names I need to use, oh well...better start buying some more cats then!

Motherhood.

There's many things you never dreamed you'd possibly say and then you had children.  Take today.  I've had to tell The Toddler to 'Stop trying to eat your sister!' and to 'stop chasing after your siblings and rubbing your willy on everyone'

I'm in two minds as to whether to be concerned over his current habit of walking around with a butter knife which he routinely pilfers from the kitchen drawer.  It started the other day when I caught him trying to saw a leg off a wooden cow with it... then today I caught him venomously stabbing a large cardboard box with it, repeatedly.  I'm terribly tempted to check beneath his pillow seeing as I co-sleep with him, not that I'm paranoid.  Honest.

The Husband calls The Toddler, the greatest contraception and at times will blame him for his declaration that there shall be no more minions.  Personally I think he's just trying to shift the blame of the decision from himself, transferring it to The Toddler seeing as I probably rather like The Toddler more at times.  I admit The Toddler is somewhat tempestuous and dramatic.  Okay, he can be a total pissant.  However, he's also utterly charming and tremendously sweet.  Granted when you disagree with him he'll cover his ears and tell you he's not listening to you, or throw himself face down on the sofa or bed to blank you.  Then there's the diva door slamming, the throwing things at us and the 'I'm not talking to you.  Don't ever talk to me again. Get out of my face.  I don't want to see you.' etc that he's prone to shout at us when he doesn't get his own way, well mostly at The Husband to be honest. However, he is an absolute darling, he's terribly affectionate, incredibly funny, alarmingly imaginative and gorgeous to boot.  He just hates being told no.... and has a habit of trying to beat his siblings up...and scaring The Cats.

At night, after his bedtime feed, he'll curl up to my back, and fiddle with my hair whilst draping his small pudgy arm around me until he falls asleep.  Occasionally he'll request a song, he's obviously a masochist requesting to be tortured with my singing.  Last night he asked for Baa Baa Black Sheep.  Then  Baa Baa White sheep.  Followed by Baa Baa Grey Sheep, Baa Baa Orange Sheep, Baa Baa purple Sheep and Baa Baa Blue Sheep.  Me thinks he was taking the piss.  I did attempt to draw the line after the grey sheep yet he started to shriek and well, pick your battles and all that. Still it marked a change from his often obscure topics of conversation like 'have you ever seen someone eat a bagel outside?'

I wouldn't change him for the world.

Yet I'm becoming increasingly aware that the years are slipping through our fingers and soon he shall be a little boy and then a big boy, then a teen and then a man.  I'm not ready for him to be my last baby.  The Husband and I no longer 'discuss' the fact that he has decided no more children.  We have three and I love them dearly, they are my entire universe.  Yet, I can't stop the yearning for one more.  I'm just not done.  I'm not ready to have no more babies.  Of course they're enough, they're more than enough yet there's still that dull ache in my womb and a weight in my heart.  The sighs are swallowed and never breathed any more.  The decision has been made.  I can't change his mind.  It doesn't make it easier though.  Just because I no longer talk about it, doesn't mean I'm happy about it.  It doesn't erase the deplorable sadness inside.  I understand his reasons, every one of them.  I do.  I realise there's so many reasons not to increase our family again, really, practical and rational reasons.  Sensible and good reasons. Valid reasons. Yet what is the heart if not irrational?  I can't explain the need for one more nor can I give reason to it.  I can't answer the why, other than with a why not?   I'm so terribly, desperately.  sad. I've accepted it because there is no other option, it doesn't stop the sadness though.

Good Baby, Bad Baby.

Is she a good baby?

If you have kids you've probably been asked this at least once.  I was always tempted to reply with 'No, she's diabolical, she sets fire to the cats, trashed a hotel room, stole and maxed out our credit card and smokes crack whilst torturing her cult mid brainwashing them into a suicide pact'

What exactly is a 'good' baby? Do people actually understand the definition of good before they ask this preposterous question?

A baby is neither good nor bad,   A baby simply is.  They're a blank canvas awaiting the impressions of life from the influences of the world and people around them.

What people actually mean when they ask this is:

* Does your baby cry a lot?
* Do they keep you awake?

Newsflash.  They're babies.  I'd be worried if they didn't frequently wake me and/or cry seeing as it's not biologically appropriate for babies to 'sleep through' (which by the way, technically speaking sleeping through only actually means sleeping without waking for six consecutive hours.  Yes, six.) and that crying is one of their only available methods of communication and is thus a vital survival tool.

Therefore, through being biologically appropriate for their age, according to society, a baby would be 'bad' which results in babies having to endure the weight of unrealistic and unnatural expectations placed upon them in order to adhere to the strictures of being good when they're not even aware of the concepts of good and bad let alone the misinterpreted versions that adults tout around.

Here's a thought, babies are not supposed to slot into our lives and lifestyle, we're supposed to adjust and fit  around them.  They're not supposed to be convenient.

Which leads us onto that other absurd line 'he's totally manipulating you'.  Manipulation is a complex unscrupulous ability to cleverly edit and control something or someone.  A baby is instinctive, vulnerable and yes quite demanding (what with them being, you know, a baby) but they are not manipulative.  A baby can barley manipulate a rattle let alone people.  It's another negative label attached to a baby to draw attention away from the parents sense of babies not fulfilling their expectations.  Yes, in case you haven't twigged yet it's actually more about the parents than the actual  baby who is essentially just being, well, a baby.

Babies thrive in an emotionally responsive relationship.  Yet gods forbid you actually pick your baby up when it cries or feed it when it's hungry as opposed to when the clock says they should be hungry.  Oh noes.... you're absolutely irrevocably spoiling it. Bollocks.  Bollocks I tell you.  You can't spoil a baby.  End of.  Especially not through being actively committed to responding to it's physical and emotional needs.  Just because your baby isn't hungry or wet or tired, doesn't mean it doesn't need you.  If your baby cries every time you put it down, it's not because you pick it up too much and it's spoiled, it's because your baby needs you and the reassurance of being close to you.  The world is big strange and scary.  You are their god.   You are their universe. Sometimes babies just need and want you.  Not because they're bad or manipulative or spoiled but because they're babies and you are their parent.

Listen to your baby, not to the misguided clap trap spouted by others.

12 Tips to encourage your child to read

We all know how important and essential reading is in life, not just for the practical things but for fun and reading really should be fun.  Thankfully I'm blessed with three little bookworms.   Things One and Two are many years ahead with their reading, during the holidays the local library had a competition to read six full books in six weeks.....Things One and Two did it in a week.  Although not a reader yet, The Toddler loves his books, he loves looking through them, he loves pretending to read them and he loves us reading to him.  So for anyone not quite sure on how to start and encourage reading, here's some basic tips:

1. It's never too early.  You can read to your baby whilst it's in utero.  The sound of your voice will be comforting and you yourself may find it relaxing, and a way to bond with baby before they're even born.  Once baby is born, read to them, It doesn't matter if they don't appear to show any attention.  Just read.  It encourages and creates a quiet place and time to relax and just be with mum or dad.  Let them explore the books, there's some fabulously tactile books available even if they just chew that amazing board book you got them, let them.

2. Have plenty of books.  We have hundreds.  Literally.  With places like Pound shops, Home Bargains, The Book People and second hand shops there really is no excuse to not have a heap of books.

3. Make them easily accessible.  We have toy tubs filled with books so when toddlers they can rummage through, pick their own...sometimes half the fun is in the choosing or rediscovering an old favourate under a pile of new ones. Make them a natural part of everyday life, utilise bath books and buggy books.  If you babywear you can attach buggy books to your sling.

4. Toddlers often enjoy word books, insofar as to say books full of pictures of things around the home or in nature etc where they can point at an item and you can name it.  As they get older they have so much fun 'seeking' things on the page you name.  Rhyming books are also a favourate where they can often finish the last word of the sentence from memory.

5. Let them see you read.  Children like to emulate adults.

6. Use subtitles.  As Things One and Two learned to read they'd subconsciously read the subtitles on the television, something we usually leave on permanently because of the noise The Spawn make.  This way they are actually reading whilst doing something else they enjoy, watching tv, thus giving it another positive association.

7. Unless what you are doing is absolutely 100% time critical urgent, never ever say no if your child asks you to read them a book.  Put your phone down, turn off the laptop, lower the volume on the tv.  Focus that moment on being with your child and sharing the book.  Cuddle them, laugh with them....enjoy the story with them.

8. Ask questions.  Ask them about the story, about the characters and the pictures.  Let them try and guess what will happen next or let them think about why something happened before.  Ask them about their favourite part.  If a character is happy/sad ask the child why they think that is.  Point out colours and details. Involve them in the story.

9. Remember it doesn't matter what they read, reading is reading.  Forget about the books they 'should' be reading according to whoareyou et al. Whether it's road signs, magazines, the Argos catalogue or the back of a cereal box, it's all reading.  Better still, it's natural curiosity fuelled reading.  They're doing it because they can and because they want to.  Encourage it all.  Discover what they're interested in, be it cars or Moshi Monsters and feed their interest with associated literature.

10. Never treat reading as a chore.  The more you try and make someone do something, the less likely they are to ever want to do it.  The key to successful reading is to ensure it's something they want to do and better still, like doing.  Never force it.  Personally we don't believe in homework for infants, they spend enough time at school without having to bring it home.  Don't tell your child they have to read that night, ask them if they'd like to.  Tell them you enjoy doing it with them.  Ask them if you can do it together Show interest in what they're learning to read and again ask questions about it that they can answer.  Children like feeling knowledgeable, they like the novelty of teaching you something.  Respect them if they don't want to read right now.  It's really okay.

11. They're never too old to be read a story.  Why not take it in turns to read a page/chapter each to unwind after a busy day, snuggle up and enjoy the closeness it can bring whilst you discover a story together, share the anticipation for the next instalment.

12. Finally, limit technology.  Seriously.  It's unnecessary.  I'm not saying ban it, yet there is no need for young children to possess phones, consoles and the like.  Let them have limited access to your laptop or pc, to explore Google etc, it's still reading and is a fun way for them to get answers to their many questions and expand their general knowledge of the world around them.  Let them be children and use their imagination.  To understand the magic of writing and reading. Provide them with the tools, plenty of books, pens and paper. You'll soon find them devouring novels in their rooms and writing their own.  A video game or tablet is only a gift until the next upgrade is available.  Letting a child organically nurture their own imagination through books however, is a gift for life.

You know you're a mum when...

1. You sniff your babies bum to see if they've poo'd
2. If the latter proved inconclusive and it's dark, you do the finger test (and pray to the gods it's negative)
3. You've had poo (not yours) under your fingernails
4. You've caught vomit (not yours) in your hand to save bedding/clothes
5. You make up random songs about the most mundane things to try and coerce your toddler into doing something.
6. If the song fails you end up inventing obscure sound effects to the act you want them to partake in.
7. You're a master of bribery
8. It's only 10am and you're wondering if you can get away with downing vodka if it's disguised in a coffee mug.
9.You frequently have company in the bathroom when all you want is to shit in peace.
10. You get through the day and realise at some point, hours before, you forgot to put your boobs away after a feed (and have probably answered the door)
11. You pick boogers, that aren't your own.