Arbitrary emotion

Occasionally my children will say something that seems innocuous buts hits me hard. I'm never sure why.

This evening Jack and Joseph were sitting with their Daddy watching Jurassic Park (age appropriate? Perhaps not but they don't appear overly sensitive to the more graphic scenes). I was out in the hall with Ben who was 'helping' me hang wet washing up on the clothes horse (another aside: soap nuts and lemon essential oil - yummy!).

Anyway at the end of the film there is a scene with a T-rex attacking some smaller dinosaurs. I overheard one of the boys - Joey I think - saying to Ryan:

'That's the baby dinosaur's Mummy'.

It made me feel heart-achingly sad for a moment. So much so that I'm thinking about it even now and was tempted to text my Mum to ask if I was insane. I think it is possibly the beautiful innocence of the statement. The total purity of the misunderstanding. I'm sad that they're going to lose that. I'm not sure if anyone knows what I mean. I'm not even sure if I do!

For the cute factor I also overheard them discussing dinosaur names (we are BIG into dinosaurs at the moment). Ryan asked 'what is this dinosaur (a triceratops) called?'.
The boys thought hard for a moment. Their answer?

'A rhino-saurus'.

They talk non-stop!

You goin' this way Mummy? You goin' this way? Up the big hill. Up the hill. And down. Weeeeeeee. Down the hill Mummy!

We's eating our tea. We's eating pasta. Mummy and Daddy and Joey Jack and baby Ben and Mummy and Joey and Jack. We's all eatin' tea. We gonna get a treat after tea? You's pretty Mummy. You is pretty. Gonna get a treat?

You makin' Daddy juice? You makin' Daddy juice now? Me gonna share that. Me gonna share your Daddy juice. Yes. Sharin' is good Daddy. Me and Jack is gonna share that now, ok? You goin' a give us some. Sharin' is nice. You share the Daddy juice, ok? Me's goin' a tell Jack. Ok?

Media Frenzies and Mob Justice

It's like passing a car accident and craning your head, desperately trying to get a better view. I don't know many - if any - people who haven't done it. I remember when I was about 10 years old witnessing a young man on a motorcycle being hit by a car. I slowed down as the event unfurled around me, watching in morbid fascination . The deathly white face of the driver, unmoving, clutching her steering wheel in shock. The intense stillness of the man's body. A brief moment, frozen in time. Incredibly loud.
I jumped on my bike and pedalled so quickly, eager to get to my friends and recount what I had seen. I lost control and crashed to the ground, grazing my hand and face. Maybe it was a rough kind of justice. I think the young man was alright in the end.

Why are people so keen to witness acts of devastation and cruelty? Why do they scream injustice at misdemeanors that have no bearing on their own lives? They are voyeurs of misery looking for a moral highground, for a reason to be outraged.

There have been several baby and child abuse cases in the news recently. Most of the children involved are dead. But none has attracted the media and therefore public's attention so much as the story of Baby P. A 17 month old little boy that died under the care of his Mother, Step-Father and the man who lived with them. The tot was subject to a series of terrible mistreatment that eventually ended up with his death. He and his family were known to social services and he was on the 'at risk' register.
It is a devastatingly upsetting story without a doubt. But the tabloid newspapers and the general public have leapt on it like a pack of rabid wolves, keen to draw every last drop of blood, every last hint at life and tear them to pieces. There are facebook groups screaming for the blood of the perpetrators of this horrible crime; screaming for the blood of the professionals who let this little boy slip through their grasp with terrible results. There are websites dedicated to unveiling the identities both of the little boy and of the Mother and Step-Father - all of whom have been granted anonymity by law. There are discussions on news websites with cruel, vengeful themes. How is this 'Justice for Baby P'?
Equally there are people claiming the story as their own personal tragedy. Weeping tears of grief for a little boy they never met. Leaving teddies and flowers and letters of tribute outside in the November rain. There's a sense of hysteria surrounding the whole sorry event that I find unnerving and a little grotesque.

Where was the rage against the man who snapped his daughter's spine? Or the people who failed to spot a Mother's mental illness before she murdered her two baby boys?
Are these people spitting hate and crowing justice to compound the fact that they are Good People because they don't beat or torture their children? And quite when being a social worker became akin to being the devil is beyond me.

Don't get me wrong, it is entirely beyond me how anybody could mistreat a child so. I look at my sons and feel incredibly protective. There is a physical sense of revulsion that comes with the idea of harming them in any way. I cannot comprehend how a Mother could do this to her baby. And I feel desperately sorry for what that helpless child had to live through. But I do not subscribe to this culture of blame and rage in the face of what has happened.
I don't think I ever will. I remember when Jamie Bulger was killed by Thompson and Venables. The shock that prevailed; that two little boys could commit such a terrible crime. But do I think it was right to cry for their blood to be spilled? For grown men with no personal attachment to Jamie to be attacking police vans carrying the accused; hounding them, shaking them - fuelled by the media, fraught by a sense of misplaced rage and a false idea of justice in their minds.

I'm not cynical and pessimistic all the time. I believe that there is plenty of good in the world but sometimes I find it is difficult to see. Everyone is so keen to point the finger of blame but in a society that is so keen to turn a blind eye and where acts of true altruism are rarely seen perhaps we are pulling the wool over our own eyes. Sometimes 'society' seems like a crumbling concept in this country.

Ordinary things

I've not had much to write about recently.

I got almost all my Christmas shopping done and I love getting all the parcels delivered. I'm delighted with the wooden dinosaurs I ordered for the boys. I ordered the whole set of them (six altogether) because I am utterly pathetic and couldn't bring myself to 'reject' any of them. They're fantastic though and I'm so pleased I got them.
All the books have arrived and my soap/bath salt making items too. Ben got something a little more extravagant as he's only getting a handful of presents - a tiger wheely bug. It's adorable and I hope he likes it. Just art and craft supplies to go and I'm done.

Laura had an interview for her midwifery course in Sheffield recently and rang me at 11pm a few nights ago (I was in bed!) to tell me she got an offer of a place. She seems very excited and I'm really pleased for her. I didn't think she'd have any issues though! Part of me would still like to do midwifery but I'm not sure I could work for the NHS. I hope she doesn't become too blindsighted by medical scaremongering.

Joseph has been a bit under the weather recently. He's got a rotten cough which is keeping him up at night and he's been quite wheezy too. I think he's probably going to end up being diagnosed with asthma and some point. Unfortuantely. I hoped I would avoid passing that on. Though I will take heart in the fact that if any of them do develop asthma at least I probably delayed the onset and, hopefully, the severity by breastfeeding.

I took him to the Drs on Monday and they prescribed a small course of anti-biotics. More worryingly they also detected a heart murmur. It's likely to be an innocent one but I'm taking him back for a check-up in 3 weeks time and he'll be referred for investigation if necessary. I'm fairly certain it will be nothing serious but I think it's best to be certain.
I find it difficult to trust the hospital after Ben's birth debacle but still...
I really must get around to writing his birth story at some point. It's been almost 13 months and I still haven't been able to bring myself to do it. I can't decide whether it will be cathartic or just unpleasant to write it all down. I'm excited and nervous to be more prepared and fight for the birth I want with another baby though.

I'm working at saving money and being a little more environmentally conscious. We've stuck with the bread making. It's becoming something of an addiction. Loaves, rolls, foccacia, baguettes, garlic bread... and it's much cheaper too.
I've ordered some soapnuts for doing the laundry - talking of which I wonder whether they should have arrived by now? I might have to follow up on that - and I'm planning on starting to make my own cleaning products after the stuff I have runs out. Apart from anything I think they must have changed the 'recipe' recently. Even though I use it sparingly it really hits the back of my throat and makes me cough.
I'm managing to keep to my shopping budget but I know I could cut it down more. I wish I'd done it from the start but I think I'll get some (cheap and basic if I can find them!) cloth nappies for Ben when I have some money available and I might see how the boys go without pull ups on at night. I think it's habit more than anything and they'll probably be fine. Their mattress is waterproof anyway so if I throw a towel down it won't be the end of the world. I'll see what they think about it.

The boys are all at home with Daddy today. I think he's planning on taking them out for a long, wintery walk. I hope they all have fun.
As for me, I'm glad it's almost the weekend. The house needs sprucing up and we're going to make salt dough Christmas tree decorations to give out to people. Possibly in lieu of cards but we might make some of those too.

Toddler Nursing

Is he a toddler or a baby? It's hard to say.

At 13 months old I still very much think of Benjamin as a baby. He still looks like a baby. He still snuggles up beside me in bed every night in the same way that he has done since the day he was born. He's been 'toddling' since he was 9 months but he was certainly still a baby then!

But he is starting to show a toddler side now too. He gets frustrated and can't express it adequately. He 'shouts' at me if I do the wrong thing or don't respond appropriately to a request. He follows simple instructions - and sometimes chooses not to with an adorable cheeky grin lighting his face and a mischievous glint in his eye. He follows his brothers around and tries to imitate everything they do. Jack in particular. I wish I'd had a camera at the ready a few mornings ago when I was preparing the breakfast. The two of them climbed up onto a chair in the kitchen to look out at the birds scavenging in the grass for seeds and breadcrumbs that had been thrown out there the day before. Jack had his hand protectively on Ben's back and he was chattering and pointing all the while.

But when it comes to breastfeeding? He's definitely a toddler. No longer can I sit and drink a cup of tea while he feeds. Or read a book. Or watch a dvd. He climbs. He kicks. He stands upside down. He tries to climb off and play while still reluctant to release his latch. Unfortunately for me, I'm not made out of elastic (though that part of my anatomy might be getting there!).
Sometimes it's cute. Lots of the time it's incredibly frustrating! On. Off. Down. Up. Down. Up. Up. Up some more. Ouch. Ouch. Let go! Ouch! Off. On.

It still melts me though when he pulls off and looks up at me with a big grin and some melodic chatter before burying his face back again.

Sunday

Ben had a very off night last night. He woke up at least hourly and seemed agitated. He was throwing himself around and crying and couldn't decide whether he wanted milk, didn't want milk, wanted cuddles, didn't want cuddles. He was clearly exhausted but something was stopping him from relaxing into a deep sleep.

Whatever the reason it was an exhausting night because of it. Fortunately Sunday is my lie-in morning so I got to catch up on some sleep. J and J were awake early and all three of them were a bit tired and grumpy.

With this in mind I'm not sure why I thought it was a good idea to brave the weeks shopping - alone - with all of them in tow. I've never done it before but it went suprisingly well after an initial battle over who would walk/ride in the trolley. I gave J and J a shopping list with 4 items each that they had to look out for. Ben went in the sling and 'helped' push the trolley but he fell asleep about half way around the shops. J and J both ended up walking around holding onto the trolley and fetching relevant items. A success all in all and I was really pleased with them.

We went round to Nanny's house for tea and they all got spoiled rotten as usual. Far more than I would like to be honest but I'm not really sure how to address it. They get treated like princes: waited on hand and foot and given junk food upon junk food as they demand it. My authority seems practically non-existent and I spend my time thinking 'These aren't my children - these are spoiled little brats!'.

It was after 9pm when we got home so the sproglets all went straight to bed. I sorted out some washing and got the boys clothes ready for tomorrow. Then I started baking bread in a fit of madness and it's now 11.30pm and I'm waiting for it to cool so I can go to bed...

Art Attack

Painting with fingers...

Painting with toes...

Autumnal trees...

The art wall...

Wrestling and Weddings

A slow morning. Breakfast. Lots of wrestling and rough and tumble with Daddy while I tried to make the house look semi-respectable. Housework is a constant battle. It was while I was at home and it is even more so now that I am working. I don't want to waste my time making my house sparkle but it demotivates me and drags me down when it is a complete and utter tip. I need some sort of half way mark. As a compromise it tends to look 'lived in' as opposed to pigsty. But just occasionally it gets to be the latter!

In the afternoon we went to look at a prospective wedding venue. Here:
http://www.clandeboyelodge.com

It was really quite nice. It's out towards Bangor so it will be about an hours drive from the ceremony. The room we would be having is being done up at the moment so it will be all new and lovely. The grounds are pleasant though not exactly what you'd call rambling and the woman who dealt with us seemed friendly and not dismissive like some of the places we've seen. Most importantly, Ryan likes it. So we're probably going to go with it and put a deposit down in the next couple of days. My only issue is that they have more than one wedding/event per day and there is another small wedding on the same day as ours. However I suppose I can deal with that, mainly because so many of the places I wanted to look at are already booked. I can't believe I'm running out of time and the wedding is a year and a half away! Still, I'm happy with the choice and glad to finally have it organised.

The heavy burden of parental guilt.

It's a very slow day at work today. I've completed my assigned work until Monday and nobody has anything for me to do and are too busy to teach me as they go along. It's fun being new.

I'm feeling decidedly fed up today. Last night was difficult. Ryan had a day off work so J and J were in their pyjamas having hot chocolate when I got home. We sat on the sofa and read some books and they told me about their day. When it came to bed time though they weren't having any of it. Not that they were hugely difficult but they were still talking away upstairs at 10.30pm!

Ben had just fallen asleep and I'd managed to unlatch him without waking him. I decided - foolishly in hindsight - that I'd try and put him in bed upstairs so I could eat my tea in relative peace. He woke the instant I put him down. J and J started to call to me from their bedroom as they'd seen me walking past so I went in to them.

I was tired, frustrated and my tea was getting cold downstairs. I snapped at Joseph and made him cry. I still feel guilty for it now. I apologised immediately and gave him a hug to reassure him, Jack too. He then compounded the guilt by asking me to sing him a song. Ben was crying and my tea was still getting cold downstairs so I explained that I couldn't. It probably wasn't particularly unreasonable of me and he didn't seem to mind too much but I still feel like a horrible Mummy for the whole incident.

Ben finally fell asleep sometime around 12.30am - sprawled out in the middle of our bed like a prince.

I feel sort of between a rock and a hard place at the moment. I put everything into my weekends with them but I still don't see my children enough. An hour in the mornings and 1-2 hours in the evenings. It's too little and I miss them terribly. More so now than I did when I first started the job.

Am I compromising what is best for my children by doing what is best for R and, probably for a variety of reasons, family life as a whole in the future? Is that more important than the here and now?
I don't think I'm ever going to resolve this but I certainly need to find a way of accepting it because it is with a heavy heart that I am doing this currently and that is a slippery slope to climb.

We also need to instigate a more solid routine to our week and foundation to our days. The little things, like making sure tomorrows clothes are laid out the night before, that the washing up is done. Organisation that ensure the humdrum of daily life doesnt encroach on my time with the sprogs. It's not in my nature but I think it might help bring a little more peace to all of us.

Fresh homemade bread.

Look what I came home from work to today!

The end of the world news

Becoming a Mum changed a lot of things about me. Superficial things. My hair is no longer poker straight. My stomach is no longer flat. I have a fine collection of stretch marks. I pour milk instead of peas into a pan of boiling water and then wonder what on earth I did it for.

It has changed me emotionally, too. I remember being younger and scoffing at my Mum and younger brother as they watched E.T and cried. Now I get emotional over the Father/Son scenes in A Goofy Movie and could weep buckets watching the Prince of Egypt.

Every day I read the news. I don't skim over the stories with fleeting interest any more, a cursory reaction of shock or sadness. I don't read these stories as just myself. I read them as a Mother.

A family of six all killed in a terrible road accident. A young boy shot as he walked home from football practice. Young people being murdered; murdering each other. I feel for the families of young soldiers, barely out of their teens, who have died in Iraq. I worry for the world my children are growing up in when I hear of the pain people willing inflict on those around them. I'm devastated by anything involving the harm or deaths of children.

It's one of many but this story is haunting me:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/7690076.stm

I can't stop thinking about what a terribly sad, short life that little girl lived. My heart aches for her. Tortured and abused by her own family before finally having her little body snapped in two by her Father. I wonder how much the Mother knew. Did she care? Did she attempt to stop it?

Who will remember that little girl now?

Lazy like Sunday morning.

We had a very lazy day today. So lazy in fact that the boys were still in their pyjamas come tea time.

I had a lie in and did the food shopping. There have been some serious price hikes again. For example the yogurts I buy for the boys have gone from 48p to £1.19 in a matter of weeks! I was often to be found staring at a shelf, mouth agape and head shaking in disgust. All things considered I am impressed that the food bill for the week came to £70. It has strengthened my resolve to have a veg patch/pots in the garden though. And I'm highly considering making all my own bread from now on too. Shop bought bread is over priced, heavy on the yeast and has a ridiculously high salt content.

The boys did some drawing and had an afternoon nap as they were very grumpy by lunch time. Jack really enjoys drawing and I had a great time watching him. He drew a 'big fat banana' and a 'round green apple'. He very diligently drew a snail shell spiral that got out of control and took over the page. He also drew a puppy, with a big head, eyes and nose and a tiny body and some little legs. I thought it was pretty impressive for a 3 year old. Plus it's very cute!

And my achievement for the day was making my very first roast chicken dinner! It was yummy. The carcass and left over meat will be used to make a big chicken stew/soup for dinner tomorrow.

Autumn Walks

Today Ryan was working so he was out of the house before we all got up at 7.30am. We had a warming breakfast of porridge and jammy toast and then wrapped up ready to go out for the morning.

We climbed. And were very proud that we could do it without Mummy's help.



We went on the swings. Ben never tires of the swings. He sat in there giggling for a good 25 minutes.



We walked through the woods.





And stomped through the leaves.





We found some interesting holes. Apparently a mouse dug this one.



But this one was done by a puppy.



We found a 'yellow sunshine tree'.



And some interesting fungi.



Ben played with the trees.



We looked out over the lough and listened to the water. Then we ruined the ambience by throwing stones into the water to make big splashes!


Then we were a bit wet and muddy so we came home and got changed and snuggled up under our duvets to watch a film and wait for Daddy to get home.

The weekend doesn't last nearly long enough.

Communication.

I think it's partially because their speech development has been so slow but I often have difficulty getting the boys to respond appropriately to situations and TELL me what the problem is rather than instantly crying or whining.

In light of that I felt this was a small victory.

On the way home from Oxford Island today I gave the three of them raisins to snack on until we got home. A couple of minutes in Jack started a high-pitched incoherent howl.

'Jack, I can't understand you when you cry like that. Talk to me using words please.'

*wailing continues*

'I can't help unless I can understand what the problem is. I need you to talk to me.'

*wailing continues... then stops*

'I'm upset because I dropped my raisins and I can't reach.'
(although I can't lie, he didn't say it this eloquently!)

I was so pleased I stopped the car and picked up the raisins for him, even though we were only a mile and a half from home.