Live to work, or work to live?

I feel myself slipping back to the way I was two years ago. On an endless treadmill. Loving my family, knowing I should be grateful for the life I have, but hating myself nonetheless.

I get up. Get the kids ready for school/nursery. Get myself ready, not bothering to brush or wash my hair and simply tie it back into its bun. Drop the kids off, go to work. Throw myself into work, because I know no other way, but also because I can ignore how I feel outside work if I make this all-consuming. After work I collect husband and children, often from three different places. Make dinner, do bedtime. Stare at the television for an hour, then off to bed. All of this times five, then a weekend where I'm so emotionally drained that I can't engage fully in their lives. And then it begins again,

I don't want to look back on my life, the only reflection being "I was bloody good at my job". I've had enough of feeling second rate at mothering. I've had enough of being fat and fed up, good intentions beginning each week with lunchtime walks and healthy food, crashing off the wagon by Wednesday to grab the sugar and caffeine needed to make it through.

Father Badger wants me to ask to go part time or to quit, not the first time it's been suggested. I'm not comfortable with part time, nor the conversation I'll have to have to request it. I don't have the courage. I fear that part time will mean my overwhelming work ethic will lead to trying to cram full time effort into part time hours, which is not a good solution, leaving me too exhausted to benefit from the extra time at home. Quitting is terrifying in its own right, even though I think about it on every commute. I've never been financially dependent on anyone, and it'll effectively end my IT career as tech moves on so fast.

For now I'm making one last attempt at sorting myself out with minimal scary changes. Food planning, daily walks, early nights. My project manager husband is insisting on a "review" at the end of April to look for progress in my physical and mental health, because honestly it can't carry on this way.

A raw return to blogging, but I'm hoping it will be cathartic. I'm assuming no one is reading as I've been gone so long, so give me a shout if you've made it this far...

Image courtesy of radnatt at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I'm almost myself, just not quite

It's been touching to have a few people check up on me as I've been absent, particularly those who don't know me from Adam in real life (thank you Rachel and The Boy and Me).

I sat down to write many times in the last seven months and each time found myself an hour later staring at a blank page. I didn't understand why. There was so much going on in my life - back to work, two children to bring laughs and experiences into my life - yet I had nothing to say. That was reflected in my personal life. I could happily talk about nothing with work colleagues and acquaintances, but conversation ran dry with old friends.

Looking back now I can see that I had simply lost myself. I could function, I looked after my children, I threw myself back into work full time. There simply was nothing else left. Looking back at my year of maternity leave I can now see that I went into full avoidance mode: I started a peer supporter course when Badger Cub was three weeks old (obviously taking him with me); I volunteered at a new mums group at a local children's centre and spent my time listening, sympathising and giving information and advice in as unbiased a fashion as I could. If I concentrated on sorting out other people's issues then I didn't have to acknowledge my own.

Thankfully this has changed.

Maybe it was the Sertraline? I have been taking it for seven months, six of those at the relatively low dose of 50mg per day. A month ago I decided (after much research) to lower my dose to 25mg. Timing it with the onset of PMT probably wasn't the best idea but we survived the emotional onslaught and I've levelled out on the other side. The "brain zaps" in the first ten days (apparently a common withdrawal symptom) were unpleasant but have passed. I'm going to leave it at least another month and then try to come off it altogether, only not coinciding with PMT this time!

Maybe it was the CBT? I certainly think it has helped the personality in me that adores process and checklists. Being able to recognise my thinking errors and core beliefs has stopped the downward trend of negative thoughts.

Maybe it was the counselling? That was eight hours of my life I'm never going to get back... Possibly the most awkward I've ever felt, but perhaps that's the point? Having a stranger sit and wait for me to talk, to spill over with emotion, to watch me not talking. If nothing else it identified that I was angry. I was angry over the way I had to fight to break NHS red tape and birth my baby the way I wanted. I was angry that NHS policy could be so blind, so fearful of litigation and blame that they'd prefer to cut him out of me. Rather than confront that anger I diverted the energy into breech support forums, into peer support work, into anything that meant I didn't have to deal with it. The anger is diffusing. Still there but fading.

Maybe it was a combination of all of these, and also the relief that I had acknowledged the problem and was doing something about it.

I'm not quite there yet, not quite found, but I'm getting there.

Image courtesy of Arvind Balaraman / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Finally out of quarantine!

It's been an interesting week. In the early hours of Monday I woke to the sound of Father Badger coating the bathroom in vomit, Exorcist style. Cue Badger Cub waking up, so I ended up standing outside the door nursing, while passing towels and disinfectant spray through the door to a very sorrowful husband. We went into full preventative mode - once Badger Cub was back asleep in his cot, I did a second clean of the bathroom then replaced all the towels, colour coded so no one shared. Antiseptic hand gel went out. Father Badger was put under strict instructions not to touch the children or any of their things unless absolute emergency.

We figured Baby Badger had had the bug as on Friday evening she'd been a bit sick with a high temperature, so off to nursery she went. Unfortunately, that turned out not to be the case and on Tuesday afternoon she decorated my parents' sofa in similar style. We went into lock down until Friday - no visitors, no trips out, no contact with anyone else.

Have you ever tried entertaining a stroppy three year old and a ten month old that chews everything without allowing them to touch any of the same objects? Challenging to say the least, but I must have managed it as neither myself nor Badger Cub suffered. I'm hoping we're clear now.

I've also been on the Sertraline for just over a week now. I'm not sure much has changed but apparently it can take a few weeks to have any effect. I have noticed that I no longer have the anxious knot in my stomach when driving in the dark, which is nice, but I was definitely on a low last night. I know why: I played at my band's Christmas concert last night, something that always signals festive spirit, but I'm just not feeling it this year at all, and it felt odd not to feel even a little bit Christmassy.

I had my first therapy session on Thursday. I don't think it's going to come naturally to me - it's all about opening up and me talking, something I'm not very good at. We did work out that I'm pretty angry at a lot of things but internalise far too much, so my homework is to spend half an hour per day writing whatever I want in my "angry book". Six more sessions booked.

Image courtesy of nuttakit / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I read too much

I spent part of today chasing a prescription for Sertraline, and at five o'clock I finally obtained the small plainly labelled box containing 14 pills. I chased it because I wanted to make sure I could start taking them tomorrow. Father Badger has taken the day off and then he's at home as normal for the weekend, and I'd rather not be alone when I start to take these pills. I also need to start on them before I chicken out.

I made a tactical error, you see...

I read the NHS website page on the side effects of Sertraline. It made for uncomfortable reading, not because the list was long but because many of the side effects were listed as likely to affect as many as one in ten people! I see that as rather a high hit rate.

I then made a much more idiotic mistake...

I read the leaflet in the pill packet. Oh. My. Word. The NHS appear to have been sugar coating it. Here are the edited highlights (because the full details would take far too long to type):

Very common side effects (more than 1 in 10 patients): Insomnia, dizziness, sleepiness, headache, diarrhoea, feeling sick, dry mouth, fatigue

Common (1-10 out of 100 patients):

• Sore throat, anorexia, increased appetite
• depression, feeling strange, nightmare, anxiety, etc.
• visual disturbance, ringing in ears
• palpitations, hot flush
• etc.

Uncommon (1-10 out of 1,000 patients):

• hallucination, [insert variety of mental states]
• convulsion, amnesia, etc.
• osteoarthritis
• etc.

All in, there must be upward of several hundred possible side effects listed, both physical and mental, and of varying degrees of impact to life as we know it. I particularly like "terrifying abnormal dreams".

They may as well have just put in large red type: this will probably screw you up in some way.

I need to find a way of blanking this out of my mind before tomorrow morning.

Image courtesy of vorakorn / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Reasons To Be Cheerful: first steps, confessions and knitting

Truth be told, I'm a day early for Reasons To Be Cheerful, but I need to say this tonight.

Reason 1: The first real steps have been taken towards dealing with my depression.

Last Friday I had my initial telephone assessment with Talking Space, the local NHS mental health service. They decided I have "mild-to-moderate" depression, and offered me some group CBT sessions starting on 22nd January. That worried me - I can't imagine returning to work from a year's maternity leave to immediately ask for time off for medical treatment for a condition I don't want to share with my boss, regardless of whether I'm entitled to do so. I also really need to know I've made progress with this condition before returning to work - the idea of still feeling like this as well as working full time really panics me. I explained this as calmly as I could and was told they'd see what they could do.

I had a feeling that NHS treatment was not going to be immediate so I had already got a referral from my GP to BUPA - I'm lucky enough to be covered by my employer. I saw a counsellor today, where we talked through how I was feeling, what I thought might be the cause, and some more general questions. She came to the same conclusion as I had: the last trimester of my pregnancy was very stressful and I have had a high dependency baby (a "velcro baby" that needed to be in close contact with me 24/7 for almost nine months).

I also talked to my La Leche League leader yesterday about the Sertraline the GP wanted to prescribe me. I knew it was considered to be the safest antidepressant I could take whilst breastfeeding but I lost faith in the GP's knowledge of medications in milk when she talked about pumping and dumping after taking the medication - I knew that was rubbish! I feel much more reassured that Badger Cub will not be affected so I'm going to give it a go.

The next steps are also in place: I've been referred to another therapist through BUPA to talk more about the cause of my stress, and today's therapist has booked to see me in January to update on progress. Talking Space also called back and have booked me a one on one CBT session over the phone on 23rd December. I'm up for throwing everything I can get at this.

Reason 2: I told my parents.

As I mentioned before, my family don't really talk about this sort of stuff and that has really affected my ability to talk about it. They were looking after Badger Cub while I attended today's counselling session and I realised that they were worried that there was something wrong that I wasn't telling them about. It wasn't fair to let them assume something far worse than reality so I 'fessed up, and I managed to do it without crying - go me... They were great. Relief on my part.

Reason 3: knitting.

Baby Badger requested a pink and purple scarf. Everything has to be pink and/or purple at the moment. She spotted the work in progress and got very excited that I was making a blanket for Bunny. I laughed and said that it wasn't a blanket, but I could do that next. I told her to imagine it longer and around her neck - first guess was a necklace, but then her eyes widened in wonder and pure delight and she squealed "scarf!". All through dinner she sneaked peeks at the knitting and grinned. Moments like that make everything worthwhile.

This month R2BC is being hosted by Ojo's World while Michelle takes a break.

Black Dog On My Shoulder

I've been feeling this way for quite some time: lacking energy and drive; regretting not putting more effort into friendships, new and old, but not able to do anything about it; crying; non-existent libido (why does that feel like the hardest one to admit?); angry; generally not enjoying maternity leave anything like as much as last time. I talked to Father Badger about it a few times, but we agreed that it must be down to the pitiful amount of sleep I was getting - Badger Cub has always woken multiple times a night, and at eight months I could count on my fingers the times I'd had a block of four hours sleep. The FBI would probably stop short of this level of sleep deprivation.

Then three weeks ago a switch flipped and Badger Cub started sleeping. Not reliably all night, but most nights (with a few notable exceptions) he has slept eight or nine hours with one waking, and a couple of times with none. The problem is that I didn't start feeling any better. In fact I probably felt worse as I had the mental capacity to start thinking about the emotions.

I met up with a friend and her six month old baby for lunch and coffee. We chatted about many things, mostly baby related, and then she told me about her postnatal depression and how the antidepressants and counselling were helping her. I didn't realise it, but she had obviously spotted something she could identify with in the way I was talking. By the end of the afternoon I had opened up to her, shed a few tears and agreed that I probably ought to find some help rather than continue to try and deal with it myself.

I know there is no shame in depression. When my friend opened up my immediate thought was her strength in telling me. I still struggled to accept it as my situation though - I've always been the strong one, thick skinned, bulletproof. I must remind myself that I don't have to be strong; that my children deserve to have the whole of me.

It took another week for me to gather courage to talk to Father Badger and use the label - postnatal depression - so difficult. He agreed, was amazingly supportive and the following day I went to my GP. To be honest it's been a bit of an anticlimax. I told the GP that I wasn't comfortable with taking antidepressants and she referred me to Talking Space, the Oxfordshire NHS mental health service. I've been booked onto an initial telephone assessment next Friday - TEN DAYS after calling them. The average wait time for the first talking therapy session is four weeks. That takes me to the start of January, just one week before I return to work, full time.

It took a lot for me to go to my GP. A lot. I laid myself bare. I feel as though the NHS has calmly nodded, confirmed that I'm not about to top myself or put my children in danger, then cast me to the bottom of the pile.

I would rant, but I've run out of words and energy.

Image courtesy of Felixco, Inc / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The one where I whinge a bit

I'm having one of those days. It peaked when I found the cat peeing on the door mat. There's nothing quite like clearing up still-warm cat pee while a baby shouts at you from behind the stairgate (left there because he'll want to "help").

Father Badger took both children on the usual Saturday morning walk with his mum, sister and their dogs. In theory that means I can get an extra hour sleep, but realistically by the time I've helped get them ready I am far too awake to go back to bed, however tired I am. (And I am tired.) He took Baby Badger off to a birthday party at noon, then off to Oxford for some shopping. I had strange irrational dreams of Badger Cub having a nap for a couple of hours while I got stuff done. Nothing urgent or even important, but just stuff. Instead I've been feeding (expected), playing bricks, stopping him eating DVDs and having my knees chewed all day. And no nap.

I know I should expect to be doing these things with a nine month old baby, but just once I'd like to be me again. I dream of having the house to myself for a whole day. No preschooler asking for help at the toilet. No baby sucking my jeans, crying because I've taken two paces towards the door. I feel really selfish for these thoughts, but I am slowly going insane.

Just in case you're interested, he's still awake. Other than a few ten minute naps, he's been awake since 6:30am (ELEVEN HOURS AGO). You're thinking that at least he'll sleep well tonight, but you'd be wrong - I predict at least four wakings. That's him in the photo, strapped to my back in the Ergo so that I can at least leave a room without carrying him in one arm. He's keeping himself entertained trying to pull my hair.

Sigh.

Matilda Mae Welly Walk

Today was the Matilda Mae Welly Walk at Beale Park. Matilda Mae was lost to SIDS on 2nd February and her family have worked tirelessly ever since to raise money for The Lullaby Trust, the charity that works to prevent such loss and support families affected. The Welly Walk was a fundraising event and also a chance to remember Matilda Mae.

The day started with a fun musical warm up with chiffon scarves, maracas and dancing followed by a walk led by Jennie and family through the water gardens, decorated with pink and purple balloons. At the end we were all given little pots of bubbles to blow, and there were marvellous contraptions made from sticks and string for blowing giant bubbles. The air was full of bubbles - thousands of them, big and small! The rest of the day was spent on the mini train, watching meerkats, in the story telling tent... the entertainment was endless. It truly was a fabulous day, and we left with two very tired but happy children.

Although I have never met Jennie until today, and then only briefly, her loss has truly moved me. Matilda was lost on the day Badger Cub was born. I was sat on the bed in the delivery suite, just hours after giving birth, watching her outpouring of emotion on Twitter, having just found her precious baby girl silent and unmoving in the cot.

Since then she has shown such amazing strength, supporting her two elder children and family through their loss, and raising money and awareness for The Lullaby Trust. Take a look at her blog and if you also feel moved please consider donating via her fundraising page.

Jennie - thank you for today, for allowing us to share the day with you, to remember Matilda Mae, in our hearts even though we never met her. I hope the next few days are not too hard and that each day will become easier. You are amazing.

Bringing up the next generation of Divas

Our preschool gives out a local magazine aimed at parents: Oxfordshire Families. It has a few articles around topics such as first days at school but is mainly full of adverts. One in particular caught my eye - a photo-shoot party.

Included is mocktail drinks, hair and face makeover, choice of accessories, red carpet catwalk, disco and a printed photo. All for £25 per child, minimum 10 children, additional photos a chargeable extra.

Other than the hideous price, the whole idea of the photo-shoot party makes me cringe. Or feel like shouting. A bit of both really.

If my daughter wants to pursue a modelling career and understands the level of determination and hard graft she'll need to display, then I'll support her. I am not belittling the career.

Surely there are more worthwhile themes for a little girls party?
Image courtesy of Marin / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

It's time for a haircut

I'm considering the Sinead O'Connor look.

Two years of nursery under our belt and it's finally happened. Baby Badger has been scratching her head for a week or so. I've been checking her hair and rechecking... not a thing. We changed her shampoo... no real improvement.

Then it happened. This morning. I was brushing her hair to tie it up and I saw it. A solitary head louse. Then a second. The third appeared an hour or so later. I've been itching ever since and I think the only course of action is to shave off my waist length hair as I certainly can't face dragging a nit comb all the way through it!

I've spent the day washing all the sheets and hats and we have an exciting evening planned checking mine and Father Badger's hair - luckily Badger Cub seems to have escaped - followed by delousing Baby Badger. All I have to do now is find a way of bribing her to keep still while I comb out the little critters.

Image courtesy of www.tumblr.com

"Staycation" 2013

Father Badger took this week off work. After a lot of deliberating we decided it was daft to spend our money on accommodation a couple of hours away then spend each day travelling to see something, so we stayed at home but planned a different experience for each day. It's been a heck of a week!

Bank Holiday Monday was spent within a few miles of home as Father Badger's band was playing at a local hospital fete. I shunned my Ergo carrier in favour of the pushchair for Badger Cub and headed in with Baby Badger holding my hand to explore the stalls and watch the entertainment. Baby Badger did us proud, being on the most part delightful and happy, especially when presented with an ice cream towards the end of the afternoon!

Tuesday saw us heading south to Longleat Safari & Adventure Park. We started off with the car safari: zebra, giraffe, monkeys (we risked losing bits off our car and survived even though one hitched a ride on the roof), elephants, lions, tigers and wolves. That alone would have made a wonderful day! We then headed off into the Adventure Park for lunch followed by penguins, sting rays, train and boat trips and a marvellous adventure playground. Another highlight was feeding nectar to lorikeets.

I would definitely advise booking in advance (you can do this up to the day before you visit) as there's a substantial discount on the quite hefty ticket price. Having said that, it really was worth every penny.

We had a leisurely start to Wednesday and headed to Blenheim Palace, less than 20 miles from us, in time for a picnic lunch in the pleasure gardens. It was a warm day and it was slightly challenging finding somewhere shady and wasp free, although I think the main grounds would have offered more of a choice of trees to sit under. The rest of the afternoon was spent with Father Badger and Baby Badger enjoying the playground while I strolled around with Badger Cub in the pushchair, pausing for the occasional feed on a park bench.

Blenheim Palace are currently offering a free upgrade to annual pass from a day ticket. We visited last month for their jousting and converted our day tickets, so our trip this week was effectively free!

We headed to London on Thursday to the Sealife Aquarium. The first thing you do is walk along a corridor with glass floor looking down into the shark tank! This huge tank that spans all three floors was amazing: sharks, rays and a vast variety of fish. It's an amazing place, with lots of fish of all colours and sizes, anenomes, crabs, octopus, sharks and penguins, and plenty of small person viewing windows and ledges to climb onto for a better look. There are also published feeding times and talks about different topics, but our littlies were too little to concentrate on these. We finished our day in Covent Garden for a very late lunch before heading for the underground and our train out of Paddington.

Again, we booked the day before for a discount, but also paid extra for Priority Entrance which allowed us to bypass the queue to get in (which was not small given it was the last week of the school holidays).

Friday took us to Birmingham, again after a leisurely start. We arrived late morning and went to Jamie's Italian in the Bullring for lunch. The staff were amazing, making the experience full of fun for Baby Badger, and were joking with me after realising they'd been chatting away to me while I breastfed Badger Cub! Baby Badger had chicken lollipops (chicken on skewers) with a mini kilner jar of chopped vegetable salad (which she demolished). Father Badger and I opted for seafood dishes, both delicious! After lunch we headed to Birmingham Museum for the Julia Donaldson exhibition. The hall was segmented by walls printed with scenes from her various books (Gruffalo, Room on the Broom, etc.) and each area had different props, dressing up outfits and activities themed around the books.

The museum itself is free but there is a charge for this exhibition.

Birmingham is local to my husband's family so we headed over to stay for the night. We had a bonus day trip before leaving them to drive home today: Tropical Birdland! Tucked away in a Leicestershire village is a small zoo full of every imaginable type of parrot, some in aviaries but many of them free flying and happy to take monkey nuts from your hand. It was an unexpected but good end to our holiday week and I'd definitely recommend it.

Marrow Mountain

Our garden is not as tidy as it ought to be. It became neglected during my first pregnancy, compounded during the following couple of years of having Baby Badger and definitely not improved during pregnancy number two. I'm gradually clawing back during my current maternity leave, but I have at least got control over the edible garden. Or so I thought...

I knew I'd missed a few cucumbers in the greenhouse. They have a tendency to hide behind leaves. I wasn't expecting twenty-two of them. Likewise, I knew there were a few courgettes that should really be classed as marrows, but I was leaving them on the plant until I decided what I was going to do with them. There have grown somewhat, and the four largest of them probably now weigh more than my three year old. There's also a glut of knobbly beef tomatoes and cherry & baby plum tomatoes, but we'll have no problems getting through those, nor the big handful of runner beans.

Tonight's challenge is to track down recipes to use the marrows and cucumbers. Any suggestions would be gratefully received!

Time to build an ark

A few minutes ago I was feeding Badger Cub in bed, still in pyjamas after a particularly bad night's sleep, when the doorbell rang. I left a rather disgruntled baby behind to answer the door.

It was a middle aged man offering me religious pamphlets, I assume a Jehovah's Witness. I politely declined and he left.

As an aside, I wonder how long it is since they actually "turned" someone at the doorstep. I do acknowledge that part of their faith is to attempt to convert/save but surely it's time to evolve away from cold calling? Maybe evolution is the problem here...

Minutes after he left I kicked myself for not saying what I wanted to say.

Thousands are dying in Syria because they have the wrong bloodline; men, women and children coldly executed. Young girls are raped with bayonets in Africa. In our own country children are groomed and prostituted, and others are starved and malnourished either through poverty or in extreme cases intentionally by their own parents. At the same time we are destroying the planet in our relentless quest for resources.

Don't tell me it's part of the grand design. If there is a god and he (or she) allows this suffering then I want nothing to do with him. The human race seems to be out of control so he either needs to sort out the mess or wipe us all out and start again. Until that happens I'll carry on trying to raise my family with respect and do what I can for the rest of the world.

Image courtesy of Michelle Meiklejohn / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

No more zombies for me

Driving home from town today, I was thinking how motherhood has changed me. Of course, it could simply be that I'm a few years older, but without children I probably would not have the uncontrollable impulse to shout "Moo Cow!" every time we pass a herd.

Prior to Baby Badger I was pretty child-phobic but now they seem to flock to me... and I don't mind! (Most of my friends would fall over backwards in surprise at this.) I find myself playing with them at children's centres, keeping an eye out in case they tumble, worrying about their teeth when I see them toddling round with a bottle of Ribena.

Films, television shows and books that depict suffering of children, physically or mentally, would in the past have tugged at my heart strings but it would have passed as I knew it was fiction. Now I feel as though my heart is being wrenched from my chest.

It's not just my feelings about children that have changed though. I used to love a good gory horror story. I now cannot watch zombie films; struggle with anything horrific that could be possible under human nature, although interestingly I can cope with vampires and werewolves - obviously far enough removed from reality for me to cope.

I'm guessing the old me won't be coming back, but I don't think it's such a bad thing.

Image courtesy of dan / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Surfacing

Badger Cub is almost seven months old now, and pretty much the whole time I've felt as though I've been failing.

Most of the time I can cope with Badger Cub. Most of the time I can cope with Baby Badger. Most of the time I can't cope with both of them.

Baby Badger still does daycare Monday to Friday (three days in nursery, kept going so we don't lose the place for when I return to work) and a day with each set of grandparents (because they all enjoy it). I feel guilt that she's not at home with me, but also I feel as though Badger Cub should have the same amount of attention from me as she did. I also know that she has a much more fulfilling and varied experience not being stuck with me 24/7.

When I'm tired I lack patience, and when Baby Badger is tired she tends to play up. Not a good combination. Father Badger has been trying to encourage me at times, telling me when I've done well with her. He means well and it is nice to hear but it does highlight that it's the exception rather than the rule, which makes me feel a bit useless.

Father Badger was away today, so I had both for the day. Knowing that it would go more smoothly with activities planned, we headed off to Millets Farm Centre. We did bouncy castle, trampoline, space hoppers, the cupboard toilet with the blue water (oh yes, anything can be an adventure...), straw bale tunnel and bouncy castle again, all before lunch. The cafe was packed but, feeling like supermum, I negotiated the pensioners with a tray of drinks and sandwiches whilst pushing the buggy. Lunch was eaten with smiles and we made it out unscathed. After lunch we visited the farm animals, ran around the paddock and played on the swings. All without tears (apart from when she fell off the swing but we'll gloss over that one).

I've been drowning for a while but today, just for a while, I felt as though I was coming to the surface.

Flip the birdie

A random photo from earlier this month: this is what Badger Cub has to say to anyone that doesn't like breastfeeding in public...!

Enough is enough (aka never say never)

We are a family of four. Father Badger, Baby Badger (age three), Badger Cub (almost six months) and myself. Mum & Dad with son & daughter. We are complete. My pregnancies were far from hard, and my labours short, but quite frankly I'm 36 years old and done with baby making.

Father Badger knows this and hasn't raised any objections, although he always jokes that we should have two and a spare. I sold all my maternity gear on Ebay as soon as my postpartum belly had shrunk enough not to need it, just to make sure my position was clear.

I'm halfway through my second twelve month stint of maternity leave, returning to work in January. Luckily we can afford the childcare for two, but three would probably cripple us, plus my career in IT would probably not survive another baby. The grandparents (who currently lend a lot of practical support) are in their mid sixties, so will be mid seventies by the time Badger Cub goes to secondary school.

I'm done. Really. So why is a part of me not done? A little voice keeps whispering in my head.

Maybe menopause is approaching and Mother Nature is sounding the alarm. (Awooga awooga, time is running out.)

I've sold my maternity clothes as I won't be needing them. (After all, you are losing weight so you'll need a smaller size next time.)

Should I save the cosleeper crib for my friend or should we sell it? (Or maybe keep it for number three...)

Is this normal?

Image courtesy of Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Elephants and boobies

We had a day in Kent on Sunday. The lovely Menai is back from India for a little while and it was her youngest daughter's christening.

It was a 10:30 service so we opted for travelling the night before and staying locally rather than trying to wrangle both children into leaving the house at 7:30. We had a relaxing night's sleep at a local Premier Inn, leisurely breakfast and headed back to our room to get into our posh clothes (we sensibly decided they weren't a good mix with a three year old eating baked beans).

Back at the room I made a discovery... in my haste not to forget anything the children needed, I had forgotten my bra. I would be freeboobing in my white strappy summer dress. Oh well. At least the breastfeeding meant I had the cleavage to carry it off. What could possibly go wrong...?

The christening service was good fun, with Menai's father (a Methodist minister) presiding. Afterwards we went for a lunch at the local WI hall, which had been decorated with an elephant theme. This is where disaster struck...

It appears that the plastic adjustable clasps on my strappy dress did not appreciate me pulling them over my shoulders to feed Badger Cub. They broke. Yes, both. With no bra. Thankfully I managed not to display my baps to the world.

Thank you to Menai (for being supermum and prepared for anything and supplying a safety pin) and Father Badger (for not being bothered to remove the dry cleaning tag from his suit and therefore supplying the other safety pin.

Image courtesy of koratmember / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Liebster again!

The lovely Rhia over at Virtual Rhiality has tagged me for the Liebster Award. Like her, I have been tagged before, but the award has evolved somewhat since I received it last time as now I've got to 'fess up facts and ask questions! I' scraping the bottom of the barrel this time having already spilled the beans on these seven things and another ten!

How does the Liebster award now work? I tell you 11 random facts about me, pose 11 questions and then tag 11 bloggers with less than 400 followers (although how I work that out I don't know) to answer those questions. I also have to answer the questions Rhia posed to me!

11 Answers

1. What is your favourite book or author? Currently Ian Rankin - I'm working my way through all the Rebus books.
2. What is your favourite type of cake? Chocolate. Sticky gooey chocoolate fudge cake. Mmm...
3. What's the one thing you love that most people you know hate or dislike? I honestly can't think of anything. Maybe that's because I'm surrounded by people with similar interests in life, or at least people that don't hate the things I love. The closest would be jazz - I like it whereas Father Badger would rather stick pins in his eyes.
4. Favourite sandwich? Chicken, bacon and avocado.
5. Favourite childhood toy? Lego. None of the fancy themed stuff you get nowadays, just good old fashioned bricks you can use your imagination with.
6. Favourite colour? Purple.
7. If you could invent one thing to make your life easier what would it be? Detachable boobs so I could get someone else to feed Badger Cub but without him losing the comfort factor.
8. If you could learn one new skill/language/craft etc what would it be? Willpower. That's a skill, isn't it? Willpower to get fit and healthy.
9. If you were a superhero what would your power/name be? Captain Obsessive. Everything in its place, especially those darned apostrophes.
10. If  you had a whole day to yourself & loads of money; where would you go? What would you do? I can't believe I'm saying this as I'm not really girly: a really nice spa by myself where I'd get a massage and pampering, lovely food and good magazines.
11. If you could achieve one thing this year what would it be? Become a shadow of my former self: finish my year of maternity leave in the best physical form of my adult life.

11 Random Facts

1. I played in my college ladies football team with two years in goal. Ladies' football at that level (i.e. enthusiastic but generally unskilled) is definitely not non-contact, and I once ended up with a boot imprint including studs in my stomach.
2. During my third year at Durham University I lived yards away from the cathedral, whose bells toll every fifteen minutes 24 hours a day. You don't hear them after a while, unless you're having trouble sleeping in which case you lie awake waiting for each one...
3. I am a trained breastfeeding peer supporter.
4. The house where I grew up (which is round the corner from where I live now) still has a dent in the garage door from when I learnt to ride a bike. I was a bit slow learning how to use the brakes.
5. I work in IT but have no interest in computer games, which is somewhat of a rarity.
6. I don't do heels. I appreciate many of them as elegant works of art, but I have no intention of putting myself through the torture of wearing them. I even got married in jewel-encrusted birkenstocks.
7. We've lived in our house for almost six years but have not yet unpacked all of the boxes. I have a suspicion that some of those boxes were also not unpacked in our previous house where we lived for five years. Just think of all the treasure there may be to find!
8. I hold music grades in five instruments: grade 8 trumpet and tenor horn, grade 4 piano, grade 3 trombone and grade 2 violin. I suspect the violin was the most painful experience for my parents.
9. I am a confirmed sci fi geek: Star Trek (all series), Battlestar Galactica (old and new), Doctor Who, Babylon Five.
10. I once built a brick barbeque in the garden. My bricklaying skills are poor and it was more functional with a slight tilt rather than attractive. Thankfully that was in our last house and someone else now gets to look at it.
11. Baths bore me. They seem like a good idea at the time but then you get in and there's no entertainment and it gets cold. Maybe someone could invent a bath that keeps the water hot?

11 Questions

1. Marmite - love it or hate it?
2. Which three famous people or celebrities would you like to spend an evening at the pub with and why (or afternoon at a coffee shop if you'd prefer)?
3. What sort of cook are you? Do you follow recipes, throw things together or phone for takeaway?
4. Which living person do you most admire, and why?
5. What was you favourite childhood television series?
6. What is your dream holiday destination or activity?
7. Tea or coffee?
8. What is your ideal comfort food?
9. What is your favourite item of jewellery?
10. Are you girly or a tomboy?
11. For what are you most grateful?

Time to tag...

I'm going to go with some lovely Tweeps I recently added to my Twitter list:

1. The Last Girl In Love over at The Last Girl in Love Blog
2. The Strolling Mum over at Can I Walk Mummy?
3. Stephanie Siviter over at The Confinement Chronicles
4. Sue over at Simply a Mummy
5. Jamie over at One Man and a Wee Bairn
6. Dinky Thinks over at the Dinky Thinks blog
7. Bianca over at Richmond Mummy
8. Ericka over at Mum in the South
9. Claire over at Diary of the Evans-Crittens
10. Emily over at Tealady Mumbles
11. MrsTutey over at Up, down, round & round

A lullaby I used to know

Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall
And down will come baby, cradle and all

This always struck me as a bit of a rubbish lullaby: I'm going to stick you up a tree and leave you there, but when the storm arrives you'll plummet to the ground. Not the reassurance I would want. I guess it's a good thing that baby doesn't understand the words!

I've always sung to Baby Badger, partly as a way of keeping myself sane during any bouts of crying but mainly in the hope it brought her some comfort. As she's grown older we still sing, and she loves it: she has a good sense of rhythm and drinks up lyrics, teaching me all sorts of new songs she's learnt at nursery. Father Badger is a little less inclined to sing after being told at primary school to mime in assembly (an unforgivable thing for a teacher to do) but is coming out of his shell in the comfort of our own home.

Baby Badger's bedtime routine has evolved somewhat. I say routine - the time she goes to bed is anything but regular, but we do try to go through the same tasks in the same order: potty & nappy, pyjamas, teeth, story, YouTube.

Yes... you heard right. YouTube. She's crazy about animals and we found out about six months ago that a couple of BBC Earth clips were a valued reward for getting everything else done. They are generally three to four minutes long and cover a wide variety of animals: orangutans, lions, Deadly 60, Walks With Dinosaurs. Would you believe some of her favourite clips are of big dinosaurs tearing apart little dinosaurs?! We were slightly concerned when we overheard her talking in her sleep one night: "meat eating dinosaurs...".

A new favourite is competing with the animals: a certain Belgian-Australian singer. Every night it's now one "animal" (although that is sometimes a dinosaur), and "The Drawing Man". So, we nominate Gotye as our top lullaby. Enjoy...

This post is inspired by Jennie over at Edspire who is campaigning for The Lullaby Trust after her own tragic loss earlier this year. Please go and show her some love.