Loss

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

Max Ehrmann, "Desiderata"

 

Today I went to the memorial service for a friends grown-up son. It was a moving service so different to many others I have been to. It took place in a Quaker Meeting House and in Quaker tradition it did not have the clear structure I have come to expect from my upbringing in the Church of England. Many friends contributed their own warm memories of him which for me as someone who had met him on a mere handful of occasions clearly illustrated the sort of man he was. 

There were few overt prayers as such but there was a great deal of time for reflection and contemplation.  As an atheist I didn't have to sit there and ask why this young man was taken, I know there is no grand plan, "shit" as they say "just happens" and I actually take great comfort in that.


Sad as it is, he died. There is no reason, just friends and family whose lives were richer for his presence and whose hearts are torn at his loss.

I understand that not everyone in that room would have felt the same way and and I hope their faith can help and comfort them in their loss. It was an honour to sit in the silence with them.

My body

Billy Bragg, 'Sexuality' - 

"I'm sure that everybody knows how much my body hates me,

It lets me down most every time and makes me rash and hasty."

Sometimes it honestly feels like my body is out to get me. What with the food allergies, the headaches, the migraines, the SPD during both my pregnancies and the infertility prior to that, it's not hard to feel that body and I are not really the best of friends. I try to feed it well, I exercise (well some of the time I do) and I watch my weight and yet.....
....and yet I rarely if ever feel happy with it. Sometime I even hate it (and the fact it is only 'sometimes' now is actually an improvement). I stand in front of the mirror and I see an ageing, plump, saggy body that doesn't look like the 'me' I feel inside. I fight to make it finish an exercise workout, I knock back pints of water to try and stop it reaching for a piece of chocolate and I curse it when I have to stop and clench to cough. I know a good body, like a good car needs looking after but I wish it didn't feel like we were at war with each other.

To be fair I've not had the best role models. Today magazines are full of celebrities who have 'already lost their baby weight', like baby weight is something to be ashamed of and that we should all be able to do it (even if we can't afford the personal trainer, nanny and chef that they used). They airbrush pictures to such an extent some celebs would be barely recognisable in 'real life'. (Look here) The media has never been a friend to a positive body image. But they are not the only ones to blame.

Take an earlier role model for girls, Barbie for example, if we assume that as a 'real' woman she'd be about 5foot 9 inches then her chest would be 39 inches, her waist 18 inches and her hips 33 inches. Her weight would be about 7 stone 12lbs which gives a BMI of 16.24 (which is so underweight we'd call her anorexic). Because her neck is so long she wouldn't be able to hold her head up and because her feet are so small (a size 3) she'd probably not be able to walk or even stand without help. And the makers Matel apparently consider this to be a fuller figure. Frankly it scares me that I still think she is beautiful and it terrifies me that my children might too.

And my earliest role model, my Mummy? I look back at photos of her at the age I am now and I see a beautiful lady, a lean, fit, healthy body, great skin, great legs, lovely hair but what I remember is her standing in front of a mirror picking herself apart, at the time I don't think she liked her own body either.

Really want my girls to have a positive body image. I wish I'd banned the Disney dolls which are really little different to Barbie before they started creeping into our home and I also wish they'd never seen the Winx club (cartoon girls so disproportioned they make Barbie look tame) but they are here now. So what can I do? I try to be as positive about my own body as I can be. When they point at my stretch marks I tell them they are tiger stripes and how much I love them because they were a gift. I try never to talk about dieting, just sensible eating. I tell them how interesting it is to watch our bodies change as we get older.

And I hope, I really hope that in talking to them more positively it wont just be them that feels good about their own body, I hope that I'll start to feel better about it too.

Forget Judy Garland, I'll listen to Frank Turner

I was all set to to write a blog post about my political views explaining where I stood on the political spectrum and then an old lady had to go and ruin my train of thought by dying.

She ruined so much of my youth, with her big hair, capped teeth and right-wing policies. She started off pinching my school milk and went on to much, much worse. Yes, that's right, I'm talking about Margret Thatcher. Even if you don't know exactly where I stand politically I don't think it will surprise you if I say that I wasn't a fan.

I can remember the day she became Prime Minster, I'd not quite turned 8 but I'd never seen my Dad look so sad, I knew Labour had lost just by the look on his face. Yes you could say my family indoctrinated me into socialism but they also had me Christened and I shook that off. I'm proud to be a lefty. I'm proud that when it comes to my country and indeed the world, I want to see a fairer, more equal society and in that I felt she was diametrically opposed to me.

She became for me, a personification of everything I hated about the political right, I danced with joy the day she was forced out of Number 10 (and got completely hammered, I was a University student at the time) so I expected to feel a similar sense of elation when she died. I didn't.


I can understand that a large number of people wanted to run around singing "Ding dong the witch is dead" from the Wizard of Oz - there is actually a Facebook group with the soul aim of getting it to number 1 by the end of the week (at the time of writing it is at number 10 in the down load charts - how ironic!) I admit to singing the odd chorus in the last 48hours but to be honest my heart isn't in it.  

In the first place this is because my fight isn't over. The current government are forcing through the sorts of cuts and changes the 'Iron Lady' could only have dreamed of. I will not stand by while the weakest and most vulnerable in our society have what little they have taken away from them and I will not be quiet while they break up and sell off the NHS. Yes we live in difficult economic times but make no mistake, these changes are political and ideological and not the necessity they are painted to be, there are alternatives. 

And in the second place, at the end she was a sad, frail woman suffering from dementia when she died, her 'prime' (if you can call it that) a distant memory. I do feel a sense of sorrow for her children that they have lost their mother though I always felt rather sorry for them having her as a parent in the first place however I don't feel any more need to be 'respectful' than I did at say Pinochet's death. Mostly I just feel flat. One right-winger may have gone but it reminds me that the fight to put society back in the place I feel it belongs continues.

No, if I'm going to download any particular song this week it will be this number by Frank Turner. It explains very clearly how I feel while still somehow managing to sound a little happy. (I'll just warn you now it is unsuitable for young children or the work place as it contains plenty of adult language from the start.)

Take it away Frank.

Lyrics, for those who have small ears nearby. 

Thatcher F*cked the kids - Frank Turner

Whatever happened to childhood?
We're all scared of the kids in our neighborhood;
They're not small, charming and harmless,
They're a violent bunch of bastard little shits.
And anyone who looks younger than me
Makes me check for my wallet, my phone and my keys,
And I'm tired of being tired out
Always being on the lookout for thieving gits.

We're all wondering how we ended up so scared;
We spent ten long years teaching our kids not to care
And that "there's no such thing as society" anyway,
And all the rich folks act surprised
When all sense of community dies,
But you just closed your eyes to the other side
Of all the things that she did.
Thatcher fucked the kids

And it seems a little bit rich to me,
The way the rich only ever talk of charity
In times like the seventies, the broken down economy
Meant even the upper tier was needing some help.
But as soon as things look brighter,
Yeah the grin gets wider and the grip gets tighter,
And for every teenage tracksuit mugger
There's a guy in a suit who wouldn't lift a finger for anybody else.

You've got a generation raised on the welfare state,
Enjoyed all its benefits and did just great,
But as soon as they were settled as the richest of the rich,
They kicked away the ladder, told the rest of us that life's a bitch.
And it's no surprise that all the fuck-ups
Didn't show up until the kids had grown up.
But when no one ever smiles or ever helps a stranger,
Is it any fucking wonder our society's in danger of collapse?

So all the kids are bastards,
But don't blame them, yeah, they learn by example.
Blame the folks who sold the future for the highest bid:
That's right, Thatcher fucked the kids.

Now why didn't they let him sing that at the Olympics?

So much to do (so little time)

I've neglected this blog a little the last two weeks, I'm sorry. I can't even give you sick note from my mum. I've been a little busy working for the BIG community (without pay) in other words volunteering. Let me fill you in on a little bit of what I do......

My biggest volunteering commitment currently is the Charnwood BRAS (you can find us here and here) I'm a Breastfeeding Peer Supporter. This means that sometimes I sit in Sure Start Children's Centres working with a Health Visitor or Nursery Nurse (and I do work with two really super ones) to support new mums in their breastfeeding journey. Sometimes I zip off to someones house for a morning or afternoon to get them through a critical point and help them keep going. I also deliver workshops, we have antenatal sessions but mostly I lead the 'Returning to Work or Study' seminar. However MOST of my volunteering with the BRAS isn't that glamorous, it's running the Facebook page (not just on my own), baking cakes, writing new leaflets, press releases, case studies and the all important paperwork to prove that I'm worth the money they don't pay me.

I'm currently in the middle of 'Nearly New Sale' season with the NCT. I volunteer (and sell) at both the Loughborough and Leicester sales which are both close to being the biggest sales of their kind in the UK. Theoretically this is only 6 days 'work' a year but even without getting my own stuff ready for sale it mushrooms out of all proportion, what with printing signage and stuff. This particular volunteering is the closest I get to paid work these days as not only do I sell stuff but the volunteers pre-sale 'thank you' enables me to kit out the kids without it costing a fortune - I swear I have never paid more that £3 for a winter coat for example. If you have small kids and you are not involved in your local NCT sale I suggest you find out more about it now.

You may have spotted that I'm hooked on crochet. I owe a huge thanks to my lovely friend and 'oh-my-god-mother' to my kids for teaching me how to do it just 18months ago, since then it has become an obsession. I have made plenty of items for the school PTA (for whom I also do other volunteering) which we sell at seasonal fairs but I have particularly enjoyed making a small contribution to the work of the KGB. This is not (in case you were worried) the security arm of the Soviet Union but an 'arts' group - the Knitting Guerillas of Birstall. They yarn bomb the local area generally brightening up the place and making it a cosier place to live. I like it because I love modern art (even if this is a very middle class version), I think it challenges what society think of knitting and crochet and come to that, volunteering (I give my time, skill and wool for free) and because it makes me smile.

I'm also involved with La Leche League where I'm just starting training to be a group leader and a couple of 'Fertility' based groups and of course I don't just write this blog I also have my food blog The Trials of the Inclusive Cook, but the last organisation that I really want to tell you about is one that it feels like doesn't take any of my time at the moment, The Leicester Masaya Link Group. The LMLG is a non-governmental organisation and charity which manages the town-twinning link between Leicester and Masaya in Nicaragua. Official twinning was established in 1987 and since then, the LMLG has worked to develop and maintain an exchange of contacts between the two cities by co-ordinating projects aimed at enriching life in both cities. Before my girls were born I did a lot of voluntary work there but my main role now is supporting the Chair of the organisation, he's my husband. It turns out we can't both go to evening committee meetings because someone has to stay at home with the girls (and daytime office work isn't an option with a baby in tow) but I am VERY proud of the work he and our 'paid worker' do (it's in inverted commas because I know she gives far more of herself than what we pay for) and it is a pleasure to attend weekend events and fundraisers. 

Why do I do so much volunteering? Because it's rewarding, it makes me feel worthwhile and that helps keep my mental health a float in so many different ways and if you don't believe me read what the mental health charity Mind say here.  Yes it takes a lot of my time but here's the thing, without wishing to sound big headed

I make a difference.

Sleep

Shh, whisper it quietly but I have been know to sleep with young girls. It’s OK, it’s nothing illegal, the girls in question are my daughters. And it seems I may not be the only mum who does it.

“If you stay in the room until your child is asleep you are not alone – as a matter of fact, you are in the majority. This “problem” isn’t really a “problem” at all, but normal childhood behavior.” 

 Elizabeth Pantley --The No-Cry Sleep Solution for Toddlers & Preschoolers. 

Every night I cuddle my four year old to sleep (until she was 3 I breastfed her to sleep), it is the most peaceful part of my day, like a little meditation. I wrap my arm around her, hold her hand and sing both girls lullabies until they are gently snoring.  I don’t cuddle her big sister for a number of reasons, all of them practical a) she likes her own space to sleep b) when I was pregnant I had SPD and it became too uncomfortable and c) (which is the most practical) she’s on the top bunk and with the best will in the world I can’t get up or down without a racket. 

Recently I did have a little health scare and during those horrible two weeks I thought that if I was to get the diagnosis I feared I would buy the girls new beds, nice low ones that were wide enough to take me too because the moments spent cuddling them to sleep are precious.

Both my girls have beautiful lashes which flutter up and down as the precursor to sleep, the eye roll sets in. As their eyelids stop trying to lift the girls give a little sigh as they let go of the day, their limbs relax and the soft snoring starts. I watch them amazed at their beauty and forever thankful that I have them in my life. 

Perhaps I am lucky that they go to sleep so quickly, it normally takes less than 10 minutes. But I come out of their room so happy, up-lifted and peaceful I wish that every parent could have this. Am I mean to not share this with my husband? Perhaps. He has done it on the handful of occasions I have not been able to be there but it started from breastfeeding and really that was something that only I could do. He is very active in their bedtime routine and he does get to look in on them later.

Of course not every night is perfect, some nights they are poorly and need extra attention, frankly the little girl doesn’t need sleep the way the rest of the family do and is often up in the night. At those times I try to remember how lucky I am to have them before I snuggle up with them and attempt to get back to sleep. Last night in fact was pretty horrific, up twice in the night and again at 6am. No wonder I feel shattered.

I know one day it will end. I suspect it will be reading that does it, the point where they are both able to read independently and I can say, "OK you can read your book now for a bit". I hope that for them books become as magical and relaxing as they are for their Dad and I but that's a whole other blog post. I don't suppose for one minute that as teenagers they will want Mum to cuddle them in their beds, it's such a short time until then and perhaps such a big long time (I hope?) until they have a loving partner of their own to hold in their sleep and then perhaps babies of their own.





Cradle Song by William Blake 1757-1827

Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming in the joys of night;
Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.
As thy softest limbs I feel
Smiles as of the morning steal
O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast
Where thy little heart doth rest.
O the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep!
When thy little heart doth wake,
Then the dreadful night shall break.

Rights and responsibilities

meme  

/mēm/

Noun

1.     An element of a culture or behavior that may be passed from one individual to another by nongenetic means, esp. imitation.

2.     An image, video, etc. that is passed electronically from one Internet user to another.

Some memes I see on the internet are great, they raise a smile and pass on. The one I saw today on Facebook might on the surface seem quite nice:

"I am a mother, my children were a gift and not a right"

And yet it hurt. As someone who spent many years thinking I might never have children you could say I have a chip on my shoulder, but bear with me while I pick this apart....

Merriam-Webster on line dictionary defines 'gift' with the 3 following meanings  (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/gift)

Gift:

1: a notable capacity, talent, or endowment

2: something voluntarily transferred by one person to another without compensation

3: the act, right, or power of giving 

A gift once given is owned by you. I do not own my children. Furthermore it is not a 'talent' for a child to be born, they have absolutely no say in the matter

Gifts are free; therefore something you have to pay for is not a gift. So if my children were a gift then the fertility treatment would have been free. It wasn’t. And it certainly isn't free on the NHS because a) the NHS is paid for by National Insurance contributions and b) you are VERY lucky if you qualify for fertility treatment on the NHS. 

If children are a gift to be given then I feel the inference is that there is a higher power that decides whether or not to give children to us. I have yet to find any evidence of a higher power (that's why I'm an atheist) and so I also reject this idea of children as gifts but if there is a god why allow children to be born into famine or war zones?  If we agree instead that with or with out a higher power to direct us man and woman have free will then why are people even in the most dire of circumstance still deciding to become parents? Is it really a choice or is it because there is a huge biological imperative that drives us to procreate?

The World Health Organization does recognise infertility as a disease of the reproductive system. In the UK NICE recommends that the NHS should fund treatment for infertility because children are not just good for a successful nation, they are essential to it. The economic benefit that one child brings to the country is not outweighed by the huge costs of even 3 rounds of IVF.     

So it could be considered that someone in the UK eligible for NHS treatment might have a right to IVF, yet that in of itself is not a right to have children.

If children were a ‘right’ we would allow them to stay with continually abusive parents. A responsible society doesn’t do that, they support the family to help improve the parenting and if that doesn’t work ultimately they remove the children from that situation and hopefully find them a new family who will respect, love and care for them.

Children are neither gift nor a right; they are a huge, awesome responsibility.

I would prefer a meme that said:

Anybody could become a parent but it takes time, responsibility and determination to earn the title Mummy or Daddy.

You are being watched.

Kids need role models, it's great to have someone to show them that they can be an astronaut, a successful athlete or Prime Minister. But small children start with role models much closer to home. Little children are learning at a fantastic rate and what they want to learn most of all is how to be human. So they watch the nearest human to them and generally speaking that's the parent.

It's a scary but my kids are going to use me as a role model. They already are.

It was my post last week that got me thinking about this 

"Because if I don't try something new how can I expect my children to?"

It doesn't just apply to trying new things, it applies to everything I do and that is one heck of a responsibility.

There are the obvious thing like if I were to use bad language then they probably would use it too. If they were to see me leave the toilet without washing my hands then in all likely-hood they would too. If I use my mobile phone when crossing the road, or surf the net instead of interacting with other humans then when they get their chance they will too.

I try to model healthy eating for them, I think I cook nutritious meals (find out more about that here http://the-inclusive-cook.blogspot.co.uk/ ) and I make sure we eat them together at the table without anything to distract us. I model exercise by taking them on walks, cycle rides and going to the pool. I model manners and politeness daily (at least I hope I do).

But its the less explicit stuff that is really mind-blowing. My kids look to me to see how to be happy, how to be confident, how to behave, even how to move. They watch me to learn how to be kind, considerate, generous and empathic, I have to model that and they will know if I'm faking.

Never mind the athlete, the doctor, business director or any host of other things my daughters might like to be when they grow up, the one thing I hope I can count on is that they will be an adult. And that awesome adult I want my kids to become? I have to model that.
Just like you have to for your kids.