Division of labour

A male friend of mine recently commented on his facebook status that he was currently 'doing the ironing' to which he was inundated with responses, particularly from his male peers chastising him for this confession. Comments in regards to his manhood, or lack of it, comments in relation to thumbs and being under them. In fact all manner of derogatory terms were fired at him. For what, admitting that sometimes he likes to make life a little easier for his partner and help with some of the domestic chores? Which leads me onto the question, why in this 21st century world are household tasks still seen as 'women's work'?

I am solely responsible for all housework in our home, unless I can twist Gavin's arm when it comes to the washing up. And he will, on occasion, like he did last night, offer to do it without any persuasion. However all other tasks from the unrelenting piles of washing to the never ending round of hoovering falls firmly in my camp.

I have had many conversations with him regarding this situation. You know the universal conversation that normally starts on a Saturday morning when you are completely knackered from the weeks events. You come down to find that yet again the house is a mess and you feel like you might be in danger of drowning in a sea of housework. So you turn to your loving partner for support and are met with a barrage of excuses as to why they couldn't possibly drag themselves away from 'Soccer Am' to help you tidy up. At this you find your temper starting to rise and you wonder once again, for the hundredth time this year, why it always falls to you?

I admit that I am currently unemployed, so not contributing to the household income and I do realise, having formerly worked, that the task of going to work all day is a tiring one and that the last thing you feel like doing once you walk through the door is starting yet more work, housework or otherwise. However I myself, am full-time childminder to our 13 month little girl and this job is by no means easy! So where do the lines get drawn when it comes to what is fair and expected and what is just going above and beyond? 

Do we assume certain roles from a very young age? Or do we, as parents, shape young minds into thinking that when it comes to housework woman must do everything whilst men can do nothing? We have come on somewhat in comprasion to previous generations, at least now our menfolk will occassionally don the rubber gloves and tackle the Kilimanjaro of washing up in the sink. A recent radio interviewee, whose name escapes me at the moment, commented on the fact that his dad thought he was being helpful if he closed a cupboard door! However we are still, in some households (mine included), a long way from equality for all when it comes to the household chores!

So who is to blame? Well that's the tricky part really isn't it, because personally I think we, woman kind, are to blame for this mess we now find ourselves in. Mothers to be exact! We women raise our sons and it would seem are sending them out into the world ill prepared for the task of taking care of a house. So I finish with a plea to all mothers and mothers to be, teach your children this, (and in particular your sons) how to turn on a hoover, what the strange dials on the washing machine really do, the importance of emptying the bin when it is in danger of spilling onto the floor and most importantly that we are all equal in creation and that includes doing the housework!!!


P.S To my friend, the ironer, I say 'bravo' and keep up the good work! You are a rare breed and a better person than I am. The fact that you actually bother to iron when I can neither find the time nor the inclination is an inspiration!

Post pregnancy body!

Having recently been for a proper bra fitting, my first in many years and extremely necessary in my post pregnancy, post breastfeeding state. I discovered that I have gone from a 34C to 32D and that support and uplift is so much more important now than it ever was before.

Not that I was ever that enamored with my breast before I had Emily but they have since, for me, lost any luster that they may have had before. As the kindly, sensitive, lady in Debenhams commented "Yes they have lost some of their elasticity haven't they". Cheers, thanks!!! 

I know I am one of the lucky few that has come through pregnancy relatively unscathed, I have barely any stretch marks - three to be exact  - just above my left hip and hardly noticeable now they have faded. 

I was also fortunate enough to loose all my baby weight within about 5 months of Emily's birth. In fact I went a little too far the other way after she was born, losing so much weight that friends and family started to express concerns about my eating habits. To which I replied, 'I eat most days, in fact just this evening I managed half a plate between cries'. I think it is easy to forget how time consuming babies are and how they have impeccable timing when it comes to their demands, i.e. they will wait until you have just sat down to eat your tea before they decide that actually they need feeding or changing or rocking etc... Then congealed pasta doesn't have the same appetising appeal as it did when it was hot.

The doctor was very kind when she weighed me and just explained that I would be well advised not to lose any more weight. It's not like I was trying or anything! However I have since put at least half a stone back on and am back to my old self...well mostly. 

So it wasn't the weight that was a problem for me so much as that last little wobbly bit, the bit that stretched the most! And although it has now gone my belly button will never look quite the same again! But I can live with that. And as for the breasts, well that's what Gossard Ultra bra's are for!!     

Whose the dummy now then?

Dummies! The bane of my very existence! 

I am currently on night two of operation 'pacifier prohibition'. Having threatened on many occasions to take away my daughters dummy and not having had the backbone to follow through, I finally decided last night that it was time that the dummy became a distance memory. 

Emily is not massively dependent on her dummy, she has it for naps and for bedtime but that is about it. However she is currently suffering from a cold which means that breathing through her mouth is the only option, so this become problematic when the mouth is full of dummy. After repeated trips upstairs last night, at 10 minute intervals, I finally removed her dummy from the cot and proceeded to attempt to get her off to sleep without it. 'What are you crazy?' I hear you cry. Well yes quite possibly, driven insane by repeatedly climbing the stairs to place said dummy in my daughters mouth! 

My initial attempt was successful and she slept peacefully for about an hour but then the baby monitor lit up and this was to be the beginning of one of the most horrific nights we have had since she was born. Heartbreaking sobs, racked with grief at her lost source of comfort. Hours of struggling and wriggling around next to me, Gavin having abandoned our bed hours before in a vain attempt to get some sleep. God I wish I had to go to work! I finally managed to get her off to sleep at 2.30am for her to wake up 4 hours later! 

Tonight she went down with little fuss, having drunk her milk I cuddled her for a little while and she fell asleep and so far that is how she has remained. So...All I can say is watch this space to see if operation 'PP' is successful. And trust me when I say I am praying to all my gods that it is because I need some sleep!

 

Today I had a thought, what if...

...what if I had never met you?

When I was 6 ½ weeks pregnant with Emily I started to bleed. I remember having this awful sense of foreboding as I made my way to work that morning. This word kept echoing around my mind, 'miscarriage'.

An hour or two later I sat at my desk and I felt this rush of blood leave my body, and all I could think was 'please no, not me, not my baby'. It's a funny thing, I had only known about the pregnancy for about a week and a half but it had already become a part of my being. Everything had changed and the thought that it could be taken away from me was more than I could bear! 


I was taken to hospital in an ambulance and asked to wait in a private room while they decided what to do with me. They asked me to give them a urine sample to check that I was definietly pregnant and I remember the sample was red with my blood. The nurse gave me a sympathic smile as she took the sample from me and I wanted to scream! I sat on a cold bed with my hospital gown barely covering my modesty and I felt so small and lost. 


Finally they took me to the early pregnancy unit for a scan. And there on the screen was my baby, this tiny being with a little heart beating away. So small. I looked at the screen and made a silent plea, please little baby, please little one, hold on don't give up on me. 


And she did! 


But today I had some really sad news concerning a very dear friend of mine and it got me to thinking 'what if...what if I had never met you Emily?' And at this point words fail me.

And the award goes to...

My daughter turned one today and it occurred to me that's a whole year that I have survived as a parent or more importantly she has just simply survived! Babies don't come with a manual...unfortunately. Although where would you even start with one of those, babies are slightly more complicated than a Ford fiesta or a DVD player. And they would definitely give flat pack furniture a run for it's money when it comes to confusing and complex instructions!

And what would happen when your baby started to malfunction, "But darling it says in the manual feed every three hours from newborn, she can't possibly be hungry again it's only been an hour and a half"? "Well we could try returning her sweetheart but I think I've lost the receipt". Erm...I think not! That's the lovely thing about babies of relatives, friends, work colleagues etc...You can hand them back when they get sleepy, grumpy, hungry, sick and you are never expected to change a dirty nappy, well okay maybe a wet one but never a poo-ie one. I wonder how many dirty nappies I have changed in the last year? Gavin seems to have developed an allergy to them, shame I didn't think of that first. Damn!

So never mind all these election promises the politicians are making about the economy, the war, the state of schools or hospitals or crime...blah, blah, blah. If you want people to vote for you then offer proper incentives, like medals and awards for surviving as a parent in this 21st century world where we have health and safety coming out of our ears until they bleed, where every single unmarried man is a potential pedophile (PLEASE!!! Talk about mass hysteria) and a social services system that will allow children to die in horrifically awful circumstances, beaten and starving but will take your child off you for being overweight! (And I know my mother would berate me for the last statement but I don't care!). I think at the very least a day at a free spa wouldn't go a miss, because after 52 weeks of dirty washing that would put a laundrette to shame, 365 nights of disrupted sleep and 8, 760 hours of cleaning, washing, feeding, sterilising, changing, rocking, singing and crying (me and Emily) I could really do with a facial, sauna and a back massage!       

Many happy returns...

This time last year I was on my way to Macclesfield Hospital. 


Emily was meant to be born at North Staffs, however the night I went into hospital they had closed the maternity ward, all beds were full. No room at the inn! So we traveled across the boarder to take refuse at the only place that could have me. 

You assume that once you get to the hospital things will start to move quicker, this is just a fallacy that first time mums harbour in the vain, disillusioned hope that their experience will be different from all the women that have come before them. The majority of first time labours will be long and arduous. Mine was 25 hours from start to finish and I know most Health Care Professional will tell you that there are only so many hours of 'active labour' and before that you are not technically 'in labour' but I don't care, it's all the same to me and it still hurts like hell!

Once I got to the hospital I was told that I was only 3/4cm dilated which meant I still had a long way to go. I was bouncing my arse off on the pilates ball in a vain attempt to speed up the process. Imagine the scene, balanced on a pilates ball, nine months pregnant, bouncing up and down whilst contracting every 4 minutes, not one of my better moments. 

The drugs are good though. I had one shot of diamorphine which sent me into a really spaced out state, where I could still feel the pain but I just didn't care enough to be bothered anymore. Funny! The Gas and Air will probably make you sick, it did me (I can't look at banana's and lucozade with the same affection anymore) but when it's a toss up between a little sickness and excruciating pain then it's a simple choice really! 

She finally came into the world at 6.50am on the 22nd April 2009, after a few tears and a whole lot of pushing. And a year on...I still do a double take when someone refers to me as Emily's mum. Me a mum? Who would have thought it?!

   

To buy or not to buy...

I spent two hours the other night trying to decide on a new pushchair/buggy for Emily, two hours!!! Because the process is not as simple or straight forward as you would think. 

Her first pram was chosen by my mother and her bestfriend as at 8 months pregnant I was in no mood or my right mind to make a decision like that (I was suffering from a serious case of baby-brain), I could barely decide what to put on my toast of a morning let alone make a decision as important as the mode of transport for my unborn child. 

So this time around I wanted to make sure that it was my decision and that it was the right one. WELL...firstly you need to consider what brand you want to go with, there is Maclaren, Silvercross, Chico, Britax, Quinny and the list goes on and on. Then you need to decide a price range, colour, accessories...does it have any or are you going to have to buy them all at a later date and if so how much will that add to the cost, then there is the size to consider...will it fit into the boot of your car, how easy is it to collapse, does it have a big enough shopping basket, what are the wheels like...will they go the distance or have fallen off by the time you make it to the high street, can you alter the position of the seat so that your little one doesn't have to sleep sat bolt upright, does it have a hood? Endless questions and everytime you think you might be getting closer to choosing the right buggy for you, you notice a dodgy review and then another one and another one and you have to start the whole process off all over again. 

So you can now start to understand why it took me so long to decide. But I am happy with my final choice, Yes I am sure that I am...right?! Now let me just check the small print, it was definitely 28 days to decide with a full money back guarantee right?!