saying goodbye to dental floss knickers…

It was my five year wedding anniversary recently. I know instantly this raises the question of how do I have two six year olds?

I feel duty bound to confess that I was guilty of biting the apple of seduction before I ensnared he who helped create them into making me his lawful wife.

Boys to Men…

Signs my boy is turning into a man at age five and 51 weeks…

This morning as twin boy hurtled at hurricane speed from his bed to bathroom sink he looked at me as I stood sleepily brushing my teeth and said;

“I am putting my PJ’s in the wash because I have worn them two nights.”

The lies I was told….

Having children has been an eye opener for me.  Finding out Santa was a fabrication in my youth was hard to deal with but really some of the lies I have been told since then regarding children are borderline obscene.

 Take this popular urban myth; ‘your life will be richer when you have your own family’

Look at these beauties

I do like occasionally to pop a thing of beauty on my blog, and no ladies and gentleman it is not an image of me in my Christmas finest but instead some rather adorable shots of my two little ladies in some rather uniquely beautiful tutus.

Double dip recession: Northernmum’s guide to saving money…

Northernermum’s Guide to Saving Money.

 As times are hard and the economy looks to tighten again, I thought I
 would share the benefit of my experience by giving you some belting
 ideas on how to save those much needed pennies when you are a parent.

Breastfeeding: Yes I still am…..

Yes I still am…. 

Not that it really relates to you, but yes I am.

Whilst I appreciate you may think she is too old, I am of the opinion that she isn’t and she seems to agree.

Plaiting one’s pubes….

In recent years I have slightly misled my children. Avoiding the whole conversation about where babies come from and how they actually trundle down the birth canal has always been a focus of mine and he who helped create them.

When BB was born, twin girl was full of awkward questions but was easily fulfilled by a quick glimpse of the bandage on my stomach and was happily comforted in the knowledge that babies were simply lifted from your tummy and then a doctor glued you together again.

Breastfeeding: Is Breast Best?

This is a breastfeeding post I originally wrote as a guest post on plus2point4; where you can read some cracking articles.

After watching Is Breast Best? tonight I thought it may be worth reposting on my own blog to share a positive experience of breastfeeding as BB and I start the approach to our one year marker of exclusively breastfeeding.  Apparantly I am in the 3 of the population who exclusively feed past a year.

Please let me know what you think….

Written when BB was seven months old…..

“Like most things in life breastfeeding was not what I expected, it has far surpassed all my expectations and I feel I may have become a happy addict.

It looked really easy when I saw my girlfriends feed their babies, yet when I  latch on my rather beautiful baby I tended to resemble a big breasted king kong trying to navigate a mouse up to the nipple on the top of the empire state building.Not to mention that when she did latch on it felt like the mouse was trying to tear the nipple off the top of the empire state building with its toothless mouth.

It was all a bit of a kerfuffle really.Beautiful baby was born by emergency c section seven months ago, and as myself and fifteen other midwives had failed to get the twins to latch on I had gone into hospital prepared. I had a breast pump, nipple shields, nipple cream, and warm hands ready to knead my bosom to encourage the milk flow.

Turned out for her first feed she didn’t need anything but me, she lay skin to skin and latched on perfectly and it felt like how beautiful looks.It went a bit pear shaped after that, back on the ward she couldn’t latch on again until day four when a rather skilled midwife taught her what to do whilst I lay back and thought of breast milk. Until day four I became rather close with a medula breast pump and a syringe.

I was warned because I am particularly well endowed but at the same time not particularly ‘pert’ I may find breastfeeding hard work.Never had a truer word been said. For eight weeks my breasts worked overtime creating an oversupply that I couldn’t control.  Mastitis became my arch enemy and cold cabbage became my bosom buddy.  The stream of antibiotics I took caused me to get repetitive thrush in both my section scar tissue and my nipples.

One day I sat tears streaming down my face and dripping off my nose as I tried to nurse through a blocked duct and he who helped create them said;

“Just stop, its enough”.

I am no martyr to pain, in fact a paper cut can cause me to sob but for the first time in my life I realised that the enjoyment I had when nursing my daughter without infection was more significant than the pain I felt nursing through infection.  So me and beautiful baby decided to stick with it.

Seven months on I still struggle with trying to discreetly latch her on; you may notice the odd eclipse of the sun now and then when I begin to feed. I still love every feed and know this journey was right for me and bb.  It and she was more than worth it.

I figure I’ll stop when she goes to college.”

She seems to be doing well on it….

Indulgence

Please forgive me this is a rather self-indulgent post but I need to write a little bit about beautiful baby.  I need to have something to re read when the inevitable happens.

 I want to re read this when she first tells me she doesn’t like me; when as a teen she flounces out of the room yelling how she wishes she had never been born. When she turns to friends before mummy and even for when she crosses the road for the first time without reaching for my hand. 

My beautiful baby is utterly adorable.  Today she has a leaking nose and red raw cheeks but every time she turns to me she offers a heartbreaking smile.  She is so cute it makes my eyes water.   She asks for nothing but cuddles and they are a delight to give; sometimes when she is sleeping I have to resist the urge to wake her up for a hug.

Lordy I love this little girl of mine!

I just had to share; thanks for indulging.

(By the way as a disclaimer for my older babies – I adore you both just as much and have done for a lot longer – however please stop shouting at me!)

how to stop shouting at your children

Its fluffy time at mine at the moment, well fluffy with a layer of dust. Following on from my promise to my children to play more and clean less, after week one I can report back successfully. In fact I have not raised my voice in anger towards any of my three, yes three children in six days! As twin girl pointed out last night; dragon mummy has gone on her holidays and fun mummy has come to stay.

So when twin boy deliberately ran off with horse riding Barbie on monday causing twin girl to explode into Niagara Falls style tears I managed to contain my frustration and instead we had a conversation about stealing and used Oliver Twist as a useful frame of reference. (Hidden message being – do it again and you will be sharing a bunk with the artful dodger under Mr Bumbles watch.)

On tuesday when they asked to play with play doh, instead of feigning deafness I swiftly suppressed the blood curdling shriek rising in my throat and together we made all manner of models. If I am honest I am growing to love the patchwork effect on my cream carpet and it keeps the dog amused for hours licking play doh out of her claws.

When all refused to eat my beautiful home made spag bol on ‘why, mummy, wednesday’ I merely forced a grin and scooped it into the dogs bowl whilst simultaneously making a round of cheese butties and inventing a new child rearing phenomena ‘school age children-led weaning’. Book to follow shortly but should you wish to attempt before reading stock up heavily on fish fingers, co co pops, and lemonade.

Now as the week has gone on I have become more exceedingly tired, not shouting requires much more energy than a good screech, plus you use your facial muscles a lot more trying to control your voice to a cheery, irritating loving level. I am also training for a marathon and now whilst the children sleep I have to clean up the debris that three short people and one furry four legged thing leave behind. Yet with all this in mind on Thursday I still faced one of my deepest fears and allowed the children to paint. Supervised they behaved impeccably, only painting themselves and their wooden birdhouses. However baby beautiful needed a bath and her bed was calling so I had to, I had to leave them alone.

All seemed fine, bb was just finishing up her milk and I was about to pop the lid on my breast and put it back in the fridge when I heard; “mummy I’ve finished; let me show you.”

Now I was upstairs, dragon mummy would have just yelled “no you fool, stay where you are don’t bring the paint covered bird house up to me”. But no, I don’t shout, instead I ‘called out’. “Honey please don’t….”

Too late

“What mummy I can’t hear you”

Oh the irony, followed by trip, crash, bang,

And then tiny thuds as a freshly painted wooden birdhouse tiptoed down my stairs leaving a rainbow behind.

To my credit I did not yell like a banshee, but as I surveyed my carpet I inwardly muttered every swear word I know, yes even that really naughty one, twice.

And that ladies and gentlemen is how not to shout at your kids and how to extend your vocabulary.

Did I mention I am running a marathon? In aid of a lovely little lad who had a cord cell transplant last year in order to beat off acute myeloid leukaemia? If you want to know more have a scoot over here and read all about him, leave some pennies if you like?

http://www.justgiving.com/Jane-Blackmore/2

Thanks