Archive | February, 2011

Introducing Maternity Matters

As my regular readers will know, I’m still extremely angry and dismayed about the treatment that led to the traumatic circumstances surrounding Sausage’s birth, and the total lack of support that we were offered afterwards. Since I have been blogging, I’ve come across many other women who’ve also suffered at the hands of a negligent health service, and one who stood out is the amazing Susanne at Ghostwriter Mummy, who has a whole section of her blog dedicated to giving other women a voice and a place to tell their birth story.

We’ve decided to join forces and create ‘Maternity Matters’, a new site dedicated to creating one voice, for all parents who’ve suffered a difficult birth, and hopefully improving maternity care for all. In support of the Netmums maternity campaign and for our children, Susanne and I are setting up Maternity Matters and we want you to join us.

Mission Statement:

Maternity Matters is a blog dedicated towards raising awareness of birth trauma, the positive birth choices that women are entitled to make and the steps which families can take to move on with their lives after a traumatic birth. Maternity Matters will not exclude anybody. Maternity Matters will be a place for support, guidance, advice and a shoulder to cry on. Maternity Matters will strive to deliver the latest in pregnancy, childbirth and maternity news and will offer opinions, research and real life experiences. Maternity Matters has a double meaning:

  • Emphasising the fact that mothers and their rights DO matter
  • Highlighting and challenging the state of maternity care in the UK.

We do not expect to make huge changes in the ways that families are treated during pregnancy and childbirth. We do hope to educate, guide and counsel families in order to help them make informed decisions and to move on from events that can be devastating.

Maternity Matters is extremely important to us. We hope that some of you will support us and contribute towards it all. We hope that we can help ladies like us and families like ours. We will post more news as it develops!

**Please contact myself or Susanne if you would like to contribute, via:
twitter @SusuRem or @jaynecrammond
by leaving a comment here or on Susanne’s blog
facebook: Mum’s the Word

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“We Pay When Old for the Excesses of Youth.”

This is me, in 20 years, apparently.

J. B. Priestley, the playwrite who penned ‘An Inspector Calls’ said that. And he lived til he was 89, so I think we can say that he had a fair insight when it comes to ageing. But I never expected the ageing process to catch up with me so bloody quickly.

I had one of those moments today where you realise you aren’t a kid anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I realise that a married woman with a child should have a fair idea that she’s long past the point where she can get away with pigtails, but inside I still can’t quite believe it.

I was at the shops, waiting for the cashier to ring up the stuff in my basket and a notice came up on her screen, and the little customer-facing display, asking her to check that I was over 25 (God knows why, all I had in there was crisps, biscuits and cheese. Diet going well, I hear you ask?! Anyway, I digress). Instead of asking me to verify my age, she went straight ahead and hit the button to confirm that I did, indeed, look over 25, which is the point when my heart sunk down to my stomach.  There wasn’t even a second of hesitation, she just went right ahead and decided that there was no way that I was under 25.

Now, the fact of the matter is, she was spot on. I’m 26. But that’s not the point!

When I was younger, I had the whitest of baby-blonde hair, a round baby face and though I was tall for my age, was blessed with a youthfulness that I thought would see me through to middle age. Then, at the tender age of NINE, puberty hit and I started to sprout boobs. Not just any boobs, but ridiculous bazongas. So I went from a skinny, pale child, to a curvy teenager who was often tasked with buying the fags and booze for her whole group of friends. Because I was physically advanced, many people assumed I was older than I really was, which was great when I reached 17, as it meant I could often get away without being I.D’ed in pubs and clubs.

Isn’t it funny how things change though? We spend so long wishing we looked older, then we get to a certain age and we suddenly want the exact opposite of what we’ve coveted for all these years. When the cashier didn’t check my age, my sense of indignance didn’t come from shame at being over 25. It was that fact that there was no hesitation that I LOOK over 25!I know I’m being irrational, and I’m not one of these to start having Botox, just because I look my age, but I also wonder…how old did she actually think I looked?!

I can almost guarantee that Husband is going to roll his eyes at me for writing this post, see, he’s a few years older than me, and gets annoyed at my flapping about my age, because he’s already hit the milestones that I’m dreading. But I distinctly remember him being absolutely unable to believe that he was 30, all of a sudden! And that’s it, isn’t it? Where did that last 26 and 2/3 years go?!

It seems as though Mr. Priestly was right. Ten years of smoking, five years of drinking and a lifetime of not bothering to do a very good job of looking after myself are starting to catch up. And now I understand why, according to the BBC, the market for facial and skin rejuvenation will be worth a mind-boggling $105 billion by 2013! I must admit, when I wake up in the morning, I do look at my pillow-creased face and wonder what I can do to change it.

The way I see it is this; we aren’t trying to recapture our youth. We’re trying to make up for the naivety of it.

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And The Winner Is…

I won’t pretend I’m not a little disappointed that I didn’t receive more entries for this one, but I’ve chosen a winner using a random number generator, and the winner is…the lovely octarinefire!

Congratulations! Send me a message with your address, and I’ll get them sent out to you as soon as possible.

I’d also like to say a huge thank you to Baby Allsorts for donating this fab prize. Take a look at their website for some really great products.

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Who Are You?

I’ve been having one of those months where everything seems to be pointing me towards a particular train of thought. I’ve had a lot going on, with family life, starting a new module of my degree and attempting to get a new business venture off the ground, and there have been a lot of blog posts floating around asking us to tell others a bit more about ourselves. These posts are great and all, but they don’t actually tell us anything about other bloggers, just about how they want us to perceive them.

I posted a while ago about my disillusionment with Facebook, and the way we’re subjected to constant, mundane updates, and how so many people ‘create’ a persona for themselves, based on the image they want to project to others about their day-to-day lives. And that’s fine, but in my opinion, that’s not what Facebook is for. If you want to  be someone else, go and join Second Life. I know we don’t want to update about the boring stuff, but if you don’t have anything interesting to say, don’t just make stuff up! Life doesn’t work that way, or at least it shouldn’t.

I like to think that my fellow bloggers are honest about themselves in their posts and Tweets, but again, whilst we talk about day-to-day life, we leave out the boring bits and focus on what others may find interesting. This gives us a really distilled version of what each other is actually like, which is fine, a bit of privacy and personal space is an absolute necessity. But how about we start telling each other about the things that no-one else knows, the things we don’t always talk about.

I’ll start.

  • I am seriously lazy when it comes to doing housework. I washed up last night, but only because I found half a bowl of mouldy porridge on the side and feared that my family may end up with amoebic dysentery if I left it any longer.
  • If Sausage is in the office, listening to music with Daddy, and I happen to go into a different room, I often take a couple of minutes to dance in a really unhinged fashion. If my neighbours were to see me, they’d probably think I was having a bit of an episode.
  • I pick my nose. And my feet. Or scabs. And spots. I’m not proud of myself, but I just love to pick at anything, my sister is the same way.
  • Sometimes, I really am the most awful kind of bitch, and pick people apart, just for the sake of it. It’s not big or clever, and I always feel terrible afterwards, but sometimes, in the moment, it feels really nice to be horrible about someone. And I only do it about people who really deserve it ;-)
  • All I really want is to be liked. I HATE admitting that, even writing it down just seems so needy, but that’s who I am.

I was going to do a linky, and ask you all to do your own “Who Are You” posts, but I think I’m all memed out. Do leave me a comment, I’d really love to hear some of your deepest, darkest secrets. And be honest. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear, or what you want me to believe about you. Tell me one of those things that you don’t want anyone to know.

Remember…you can always comment anonymously!

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Mum’s the Word Does Cookery – Lamb Stew Recipe

Yesterday, after a series of tweets from @welshmumwales, who blogs over at Welsh Mum, talking about her disappointment with her first attempt at using her slow cooker, I found myself sharing a recipe with her, that I’m sure loads of you would love. This recipe was taught to me by my Mother-in-Law, who was in turn taught by her Mum, and I’m sure she probably learned to cook it from her own mother, so this recipe goes back many generations and is a real favourite in our family.

Do bear in mind that the quantities I’m giving are for a stew pot that holds SIX litres, so you’ll need to adjust the amounts depending on the size of your pot or slow cooker. When using either a slow cooker or a pot on the hob, I’d advise letting this cook on low for at least 6-7 hours, though the longer you cook it the better.

Ingredients:

  • Neck of Lamb (fillet) ( I usually buy £10 worth), ask the butcher to dice it for you
  • One large onion, finely sliced
  • 1 bag of frozen mixed veg (avoid mixes with broccoli in, as it turns to floating green mush. Also, mixes with red pepper and sweetcorn in dont work so well either)
  • 1kg white potatoes, peeled and diced
  • 6 large carrots, peeled and sliced
  • 1 Matthesons Smoked Sausage
  • 2 x stock cubes
  • 2 x oxo cubes
  • 2 x cans of vegetable or lentil soup
  • water
  • flour, margarine and water for dumplings, or a dumpling mix
  1. Start by browning your lamb in your stew pot or pan. Once all of the meat is browned, fill the pot about 2/3 full with cold water. Return to the hob and  add the stock cubes and oxo.
  2. Add the diced potatoes, sliced carrots, frozen veg, smoked sausage and cans of soup. Mix well and put a lid on the pot.
  3. Cook for 6-8 hours, stirring intermittently. If you’re using a slow cooker, you may need to add more liquid so that it doesn’t dry out.
  4. If you want to add dumplings, wait until 30 minutes before you want to eat, bring the stew to a fast simmer and add the dumplings. Cook for at least 30 minutes.

Dumpling method:

  1. Add equal measures of flour and margarine to a bowl and, using your fingers, bring together to a crumb texture.
  2. Add a little water at a time, until the mixture comes together and will form solid balls. You don’t want it to be too sticky.
  3. Using floured hands, make equal sized balls from the mixture and lower into the stew with a ladle.
  4. Cook for around 30 minutes, turning halfway through.

And that’s it, it’s as simple at that. It’s a super tasty stew and will make 10 generous portions with the quantities given. It freezes nicely, too. If you want, you can omit the smoked sausage during the first stage of cooking, and add it the next day when you’re eating the leftovers.

If you have any recipes you’d like to share I’d love to hear them, I’m always looking for cheap and easy ways to feed my family and would love to broaden our food horizons by trying some things that don’t usually make it onto our plates.

Also, if you make a Mum’s the Word stew for yourself, do let me know how it turns out!

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Terrible Twos?

This past weekend has been a challenge. Aside from our boiler breaking down and spending all day Saturday huddled around one halogen heater for warmth, Sausage seems to have realised that she’s two, and is therefore entitled to throw tantrums of devastating proportions. But I’ve come to the conclusion that the problem isn’t with Sausage’s behaviour. It’s with mine.

I’m sure most first-time-mums will agree that when it comes to parenting a toddler, just about every minute of every day seems like a new challenge, a learning curve for both you and your child. There’s no set way to deal with every single child, what works for one may not work for another, and while I do have respect for Jo Frost, I don’t think you can simply apply one method in every case and expect results. There’s also that fact that, within a relationship, each person is different, so while many couples talk about the importance of being ‘on the same page’ when dealing with your child, it’s not always possible, when personalities are so different.

Husband is a self-confessed ex-hothead. His Mum has regaled me with stories of him throwing himself on the floor outside toy shops as a child, going rigid when she tried to pick him up. I always blanched at these tales, hoping that I’d never have to deal with the same thing, but I think it may have been naive of me to feel this way. The thing is, aren’t children entitled to have the odd tantrum or two? Isn’t this part of how they learn, by pushing boundaries?

As I said, it isn’t so much how Sausage behaves that vexes me, it’s my reaction to it. As soon as she tells me no, or throws herself on the floor, my instinct says “Must punish. Must make her realise that she cannot behave this way!”, so I start threatening bed, revoking of TV privileges, removal of toys from her possession. And inevitably, this makes the hysteria go up a notch, so I get louder and make more threat, she gets more hysterical and unable to comply…and so on and so forth, until I end up with a blotchy, hysterical child on my hands, who, as of today, has broken blood vessels on her face from crying so hard.

It galls me to say this, as I do tend to have this overblown illusion that I get most things right when it comes to Sausage, but Husbands’ method is so much more effective. He’ll sit her down, talk to her in a calm voice, defuse the situation, and generally avoid all of the histrionics. And I’ll admit, I got indignant, I told him that he was a pushover, that she could do no wrong in his eyes, that he was undermining me and letting her get away with behaviour without teaching her that there would be consequences for her actions, that she’d come out of it not even knowing what she’d done wrong.

Until he proved me wrong. Over the weekend, he intercepted a situation that was getting more and more out of hand between Sausage and I, and I accused him of all of these things. He simply turned to Sausage and asked her if she knew what she’d done wrong. And, bless her heart, of course she knew.

The crux of all of this is that, despite the fact that I adore my child and husband, sometimes, when I go into ‘fascist mummy’ mode, I don’t give either of them enough credit. The thing is, I’m so worried that my kid is going to turn out to be a brat that I sometimes forget that she’s only two. Yes, she’s intelligent and forward for her age, but when all’s said and done, she has a very long way to go before she’s in total control of her emotions.

And with me for a mother, is it any wonder she can throw a mean tantrum? Needless to say, this weekend was not my finest moment as a parent. I guess I’ll just have to chalk it down to experience and hope that I can do a better job from now on.

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Fill in the Blanks.

Okay, so I think three posts in one day is a record for me, but the beautiful Metal Mummy has tagged me in this meme and as you all know, I can’t resist an opportunity to talk endlessly about myself, so here goes!

The idea behind this one is that we’re given us a set of open sentences that we have to finish, then tag some fellow bloggers to do the same, and so on and so forth.

Here are mine:

I am…a bit of a handful, to be honest. I’m far too sensitive, and tend to think that everything is a dig or a criticism. I wish I wasn’t like it, and I do try to be a little bit more measured in my responses, but it’s not easy. On the plus side, I am also a good Mum, and I try to be a good wife. I always thought, when I was a kid, that my identity would be defined by whatever career I chose, but I’m actually happier to say “I’m a stay-at-home Mum”.

The bravest thing I’ve ever done… is leaving Sausage in hospital after she was born. It took every ounce of courage in my body to walk away and leave her there, but I knew that it was the right place for her to be, and I also knew that I wouldn’t be able to get any rest or have a chance to heal if I had stayed on that noisy (and quite frankly, sub-standard) ward that they put me on. In a way, I’ll never forgive myself for leaving my baby there, but I just have to look at the bright, amazing, healthy kid she is now to know that I did the right thing.

I feel prettiest when…I make an effort. On a day-to-day basis, I probably don’t make nearly enough effort with my appearance, but when I actually take the time to do my hair and make up, and think about what I’m going to wear, I feel much better. I should qualify this by saying that I don’t think I’ve ever felt pretty, except maybe on my wedding day, I just feel better than I do on any average day.

Something that keeps me awake at night is…my own stupid brain. My husband will tell you I don’t have much trouble falling asleep, in fact he says that I could sleep on a washing line, but even though I find dozing off easy I tend to wake up a dozen time a night, just because I drift out of a heavy sleep and my brain kicks in. It could be anything from remembering appointments to singing the song that I heard on Sausage’s Yo Gabba Gabba DVD earlier in the day, but my brain doesn’t ever seem to switch off properly, and it can be really frustrating.

My favourite meal is…gosh, this is a tough one! Husband and I don’t tend to go to many restaurants, as we don’t really enjoy going out to eat if we can’t take Sausage with us, so on special occasions, we tend to cook at home, and it’s one of the few times that we cook together. Usually we’ll have home-made chips, a rare steak and my Diane sauce, which, if I may say so myself, is LUSH!  Husband is a master at cooking a steak, so when we have this meal, it’s a real collaborative effort, which makes it all the nicer. Or if all else fails, I could eat Nandos for every meal!

The way to my heart is…generosity. I’m not talking about lavish gifts or anything like that, but I find tightness, or unwillingness to share to be one of the most unattractive character flaws. I was raised in a family where you’d give the shirt off of your back if someone else needed it, and I cannot stand people who are unashamedly miserly or selfish. I also appreciate generosity of spirit, and tend to find that the people I make friends with the most easily are those who are as willing to share things about themselves as I am. I kind of wear my heart on my sleeve (sometimes to my detriment) and expect the same of others, though obviously don’t always find it.

I would like to be…great. I don’t necessarily mean famous, or even rich, but I really would like to make an impact in some way. If I can be remembered as someone who made a difference, then I’ll feel like I was worth all the oxygen I consumed in my lifetime! However, if the only great thing I do is to raise Sausage to be a good person, I’ll still feel like I made it.

It’s over to you,  @funky_wellies @Mammywoo @TheBoyandMe and @himupnorth

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Silent Sunday – For Jay.

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Five Things That Make Me Feel Good.

Yay, I’ve been tagged to take part in this blog hop, the brain child of the lovely Scottish Mum, who wanted to come up with a way to get us to stop thinking about our cyber-lives, and appreciating all of the things that make us women.

Here are the rules:

What you cannot choose.  The Rules are Simple
We all know that blogging / facebook, & or twitter  is in our arena of what we like to do, so I am going to rule them out as one of the 5 that you can post about.  They really are not very girly.    Likewise, phones, computers, iPads are all out of the running.

I am challenging myself to this, as I am really not a girly girly type of person, and I want to find that within myself.   It’s not all about power suits, filofaxes, ipads and designer phones.

If you want to pass this along, pick bloggers that you want to find out more about, and challenge them to write up their 5 secret passions that make them feel good.  The idea is to lift our spirits this week.  The fact that there is a linky added, just makes it all the more worthwhile in doing.

So here goes:

1. When Sausage says ‘I love you, Mummy’, totally unprompted.

She’s a really affectionate child, and is always happy to give me a kiss and a cuddle, but when she comes to me, just to tell me she loves me, it makes me happier than anything in the world ever has before. I try really hard (as we all do) to be a good Mum and to make her happy, so when she says she loves me, it lets me know that I’m doing something right, and that I’m not the ogre that I sometimes feel I can be when the Terrible Twos are rearing their ugly head!

2. Barry M nail varnish

I LOVE painting my nails. I don’t necessarily do it very often, bu when I do, I make sure I do a good job of it and use a beautiful colour. Just before Sausage was born, I discovered Barry M nail varnish, as I was looking for something to do to fill the boredom of being signed off of work, and decided giving myself a manicure would be a nice treat. The range of colours that Barry M comes in is amazing, they’re so bright, glossy and vibrant, and giving myself beautiful fingernails is always enough to perk me up. I also own about 40 different colours, so I could do every toe and finger nail a different colour, twice, if I so desired!

3. Getting a good haircut.

I have an inherent mistrust of hairdressers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the type to go in with a picture of Jessica Alba, and come out really disappointed when I don’t look EXACTLY like her, but at the same time, following the simple instruction “Please don’t cut off more than and inch” ISN’T BLOODY ROCKET SCIENCE! So when I find a hairdresser who actually listens to me and does a good job, I’m a very happy lady. I love that feeling when you come out of the salon and you’re just really pleased with what they’ve done, and don’t feel like you’ve paid for a Land Rover and ended up with a Micra!

4. A successful shopping trip

Around the time that I met Husband, I was going through a stage of being particularly happy with my body. I was the slimmest I’d ever been, which made shopping for clothes an absolute delight. Instead of having to rifle through the rails to get the bigger sizes that they hide at the back, I could go almost to the front, pick something up and have it both fit, and look good. These days, I’m firmly stuck at the very back of the rails, and sometimes avoid shops altogether as I know they don’t even stock my size, so when I go shopping and I actually manage to find items that I like, and which fit well and look nice, I’m practically euphoric! I had a trip like this in December, thanks to my amazing sister and the money off vouchers she gave me for the shop she works in, and I managed to find LOADS of clothes, which was like a small Christmas miracle!

5. Holding hands with my Husband.

Any of you who know me by now, will know that I’m a bit of a weirdo when it comes to going anywhere without Sausage. As in, I don’t really like to. If I had my way, I’d take her everywhere with me, but occasionally, when Husband and I do need to go somewhere without her, like before Christmas when the snow was so bad that it was impossible to go anywhere, especially with a pushchair, and Asda refused to deliver our shopping, we had to walk into town to finish our Christmas shopping and do our big food shop in Sainsburys. We walked all the way there holding hands, and it was awesome. Before we had Sausage, we’d hold hands all the time, we’re both pretty tactile people, and being able to walk along holding hands, just occasionally, is enough to make me feel like a love-struck teenager, all over again!

So, here’s where I tag some of my unsuspecting tweeps to take part! It’s over to you @SusuRem, @MetalMummy84, @tempestdevyne, @adrenalynn_no, @tiddlyompompom, @tattooed_mummy, @mamamakes and @JennyPaulin

(I don’t know if any of you have been tagged already, but hey, it’s nice to feel popular, isn’t it?!)

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Flashback Friday – A Little Late!

About a year ago, after much nagging and reminding, my Dad finally brought his photo album round for me to look at. When he and my Mum separated, he kept all of the photos of me, so I hadn’t seen many of them for over 20 years!

One particular one stands out to me, a snap of me and my Mum, I can’t have been more than 6 months old, but the picture just sums up my childhood so perfectly!

Born to Ride, baby!

Yep, that’s little old me, sitting on my Mum’s lap while she poses on a motorbike!

Motorbikes played quite a big part of my childhood, one of my earliest memories is of watching my Dad working on his motorbike in our garage, I remember the smell of engine oil, the Swarfega to get the grease off of his hands.

When my Mum remarried, my stepdad (whom I also call Dad, long story) was also a lover of all things two-wheeled (though this makes my Mum sound like a motorbike groupie..which I can assure you she is not!) and I’d be taken to drag racing weekends and meets like The Bulldog Bash, where we’d spend all weekend camping, surrounded by Hell’s Angels, listening to Led Zeppelin and Lynyrd Skynyrd, and soaking up the atmosphere and the smell of burning rubber. And yes, I do remember seeing wet t-shirt contests!

I may not have had the most…traditional…of childhoods, but I have some amazing memories, and I like to think that it all played a part in making me the person I am today. I saw and heard things that other kids had no idea about, and far from turning me into a wildchild, just gave me the street-smarts that other kids seemed to lack.

All I know is, I wouldn’t change it for the world.

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