I had an interesting conversation with a good friend the other day about nappies; from this point further, I will refer to the following conversation as "nappygate". There are a few reasons that I need to work and getting away from conversations about feeding, nappies and general stay-at-home mum chit chat (in this case, via e-mail), is one of them. If I did, the red mist would veil across my eyes and I would say something that probably wouldn't go down well with a skinny latte and Belgium Bun.
My friend was saying that "nappygate" began by a fellow Alpha mum, who usually stands firmly in the Pampers camp, stating in a group e-mail that she had discovered how wonderful Aldi nappies were. I'm not sure what she was expecting; maybe because they are cheaper she assumed they would be a piece of tissue paper bound by cellotape?
Anyway, my friend replied back to the group that she agreed and said that she had been using them with her son since he was born. Subsequently, the Alpha Mum made a curt reply asking why she had failed to share this information with the group before? My response would have been "Because I'm normal and very busy and unless it comes up in conversation, I don't feel the need to 'spread the word' about nappies; especially via E-mail!" However, my friend is far more diplomatic than me and replied in a way that pacified the situation.
The "nappygate" conversation took an unexpected turn when one of the mum's, a stay-at-home Alpha mum, piped up about the conservationist implications of disposable nappies. Instead, she told the group that she used the re-usable nappies that you can now buy. You know the ones, they are like the terries that you used to wear as a baby with a fabric re-usable nappy over them. Unlike terries, you don't have to have them drying everywhere for example, over the boiler and there is no fear of mutilating your baby with a safety pin.
Suddenly, my friend became like Switzerland in the online conversation with both disposable and reusable camps throwing verbal, sudocream-lined missiles across the virtual space of the internet.
The whole online debacle got me thinking about priorities and whether choosing disposable or re-usable should be one of them. Initially, when I was pregnant with Bethan, I was completely committed to using the re-usable kind because it was ethically the right thing to; or so it had been sold to me.
However, when Bethan was born, what type of nappies she would be wearing was low on my list of priorities as I sat by her incubator and watched her fight for her life. In fact, I'm not sure in the haze of it all, how Bethan actually got her nappies. The only thing of interest to me was being able to see how much the nappy weighed and whether it had any poo in it and what colour the poo was. Green good: brown bad.
Maybe what I am trying to say is that although the "nappygate" issue maybe environmentally important, it's all relative. A great deal of new parents don't get the choice as to which type of nappy you can use. Whether it's due to circumstances or the fact you live in the middle of a war-zone, sometimes spending your time fighting over your choice in nappies isn't worth it. Use your time more effectively by really appreciating the baby that is in it.
As my friend and I finished the conversation she said something very pertinent; stay-at-home mums are not full-time mums. We are all full-time mums whether we choose to work or not. This enlightening conversation with my good friend made me realise that there are a lot of Alpha Mums of the different variety; we are the alpha mums who don't spend as much time as we should trying to out-do each other or make others feel crap about their parenting skills. No. We are the alpha mums who do our best everyday and hope to God that we get it right and gracefully and modestly learn from a situation when we get it wrong. So there! ;-p
Showing posts with label going back to work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label going back to work. Show all posts
Saturday 13th April 2013
Battered, bruised, exhausted and that's just my ego. It's been exactly one week since I last blogged but it feels like a lifetime has passed.
This week has been a blur, a haze...It's been one of those weeks where I've been so tired that I put the butter in the microwave because I thought it was the fridge (that was messy); it's been one of those weeks where I've thought I need to take some annual leave from this job and thought crap! I can't; it's been one of those weeks that I've thought, I probably need to consider resigning and let someone better have a go only to realise, once more that, crap! I can't.
Baby-led weaning has turned into a game of Subbuteo where, for the sake of peace, I have become the goal keeper. Potty Training: Part 2 The Return of the Singing Potty has been even more stressful than last time because Bethan's bowels are constantly on my mind. However, the most tiring and guilt-ridden thing that has been plaguing me day and night for the last 7 days is this: I can't wait to go back to work for a break.
Only three weeks ago such a thought would have horrified me; I was kind of getting into that whole earth-mother vibe and 'livin of the fatta of the land' ;-). Now I'm thinking, who am I kidding? I'm far too neurotic to be an earth mother! I'm just going to admit it: 24/7 with my two beautiful children for 14 days, 18 hours and 36 minutes has been very difficult.
This pill is even more difficult to swallow because I know how bloody lucky I am to have them. When Bethan was a couple of days old fighting for her life in an incubator my mum said to me, "She's strong; you're going to be nose to nose with her". I was hysterical saying that even thinking such a thing was too much because she could die at any moment.
As ever, m'mam was right. Bethan is strong; not just physically but also strong of mind.
As I was on my knees on one of our daily sojourns to the naughty step this week, I looked up into Beth's water-filled blue eyes and her mottled face from the amount of frustrated crying and had a very vivid flashback of sitting beside that incubator and having that conversation with my mum. It was at that moment after looking at Beth and then James did I realise that I'd hit a wall and needed some 'out time'. Following this epiphany I've had many sleepless, guilt-infested nights culminated in the following assertion: I can't justify why I need to work; it just feels like the right thing to do.
Mind you, once I'd come to terms with this 'feeling' (for now at least), chez Hillier has been back to its completely mad and frantic self today.
Desperate not to miss our first swimming lesson after the holidays, I started getting us all ready quite early this morning. It came as no surprise that we were still stuck in traffic 5 minutes before the lesson was supposed to start (Note to self: Put a brown paper bag in the glove compartment. This will help with 'why are we on the drag again?' hyperventilating). Once parked, we went rushing into the private building where the pool is, started to frantically get ready until,
"Liz, why are we the only ones here?"
I turned to Rob and went,
"Oh crap!"
Oh yes; I'd got the wrong pool on the wrong week. Many apologies to the residents of Cardinal Lofts in Ipswich. We saw the security camera whilst swimming alone in your pool but what is an Alpha Mum to do when you're dressed for the party and have nowhere to go?
This week has been a blur, a haze...It's been one of those weeks where I've been so tired that I put the butter in the microwave because I thought it was the fridge (that was messy); it's been one of those weeks where I've thought I need to take some annual leave from this job and thought crap! I can't; it's been one of those weeks that I've thought, I probably need to consider resigning and let someone better have a go only to realise, once more that, crap! I can't.
Baby-led weaning has turned into a game of Subbuteo where, for the sake of peace, I have become the goal keeper. Potty Training: Part 2 The Return of the Singing Potty has been even more stressful than last time because Bethan's bowels are constantly on my mind. However, the most tiring and guilt-ridden thing that has been plaguing me day and night for the last 7 days is this: I can't wait to go back to work for a break.
Only three weeks ago such a thought would have horrified me; I was kind of getting into that whole earth-mother vibe and 'livin of the fatta of the land' ;-). Now I'm thinking, who am I kidding? I'm far too neurotic to be an earth mother! I'm just going to admit it: 24/7 with my two beautiful children for 14 days, 18 hours and 36 minutes has been very difficult.
This pill is even more difficult to swallow because I know how bloody lucky I am to have them. When Bethan was a couple of days old fighting for her life in an incubator my mum said to me, "She's strong; you're going to be nose to nose with her". I was hysterical saying that even thinking such a thing was too much because she could die at any moment.
As ever, m'mam was right. Bethan is strong; not just physically but also strong of mind.
As I was on my knees on one of our daily sojourns to the naughty step this week, I looked up into Beth's water-filled blue eyes and her mottled face from the amount of frustrated crying and had a very vivid flashback of sitting beside that incubator and having that conversation with my mum. It was at that moment after looking at Beth and then James did I realise that I'd hit a wall and needed some 'out time'. Following this epiphany I've had many sleepless, guilt-infested nights culminated in the following assertion: I can't justify why I need to work; it just feels like the right thing to do.
Mind you, once I'd come to terms with this 'feeling' (for now at least), chez Hillier has been back to its completely mad and frantic self today.
Desperate not to miss our first swimming lesson after the holidays, I started getting us all ready quite early this morning. It came as no surprise that we were still stuck in traffic 5 minutes before the lesson was supposed to start (Note to self: Put a brown paper bag in the glove compartment. This will help with 'why are we on the drag again?' hyperventilating). Once parked, we went rushing into the private building where the pool is, started to frantically get ready until,
"Liz, why are we the only ones here?"
I turned to Rob and went,
"Oh crap!"
Oh yes; I'd got the wrong pool on the wrong week. Many apologies to the residents of Cardinal Lofts in Ipswich. We saw the security camera whilst swimming alone in your pool but what is an Alpha Mum to do when you're dressed for the party and have nowhere to go?
Thursday 21st March 2013
Following The Budget yesterday there was a lot of 'insightful' commentary on morning TV. Contrary to what this blog may suggest, I honestly don't sit down in my pjs to watch Daybreak and the programmes that proceed it. It's on in the background whilst I'm running around like a Whirling Dervish trying to make sure that everyone is happy and nothing can rock the apple cart.
I didn't pay attention to The Budget myself as it's a load of white noise in my ear. Listening to George Osborne trying to speak over lots of old blokes and a couple of women who are trying to out do each other in the 'Yeah, yeah' stakes is a complete waste of my time. In fact, Daddy Pig and Peppa often make more sense than some of these politicians because the Pig household keep it simple. Having said that, Daddy Pig would be a target for the NHS because he is so overweight and at risk of heart disease, cancer and diabetes; so actually, maybe using the Pig household as an analogy for the post-modern ideal of the nuclear family is a bad idea.
Anyway,the BBC will summarise The Budget for me with the following headline (in my seductive Fiona Bruce voice): "There is no money. We will take off Peter to pay Paul. That is all, and now for the rest of the day's news..."
So I started to think to myself, "Let's move on; the weather is crap; the economy is in free-fall; I sound like fag ash Lil oh yes, and I chopped my thumb with a pair of scissors instead of using them to open a packet of instant porridge. Never mind, I have all the love in the room that I need and I am trying to work on happy vibes".
This positive approach was working until, on the TV,...that bloody woman from The Apprentice appeared. (I have since learned she is called Katie Hopkins). She was on Phil and Holly's sofa basically routing for the plight of full-time parents who work their arse off at home looking after their kids...NOT!!! I'm really not sure whether this woman truly believes in the points she makes or whether she just loves being in the media limelight and enjoys being basked in the controversy of 'her beliefs'.
To be fair, Ms Hopkins' views may (I emphasise the word may) sometimes have credence. That is until she completely batters the debate by making inflammatory comments such as "Parents who stay at home wear it like a badge of honour!" and "Why should we pay parents to stay at home? They just hang around in their pyjamas all day (or something to that effect)". At that point Holly and the woman who embodied the counter-argument went off on one; fair play to them. Holly says that she has all day Friday 'off' to stay at home with her children and openly admitted to it being the hardest job of the week. I couldn't agree more. I feel like I work part-time and have a full-time job at home too.
As a mother of three children, I'm not sure why Ms Hopkins doesn't get this; all I can think is that she has had an easy run of it because as much as I love and adore Bethan and James, I find it incredibly hard work when I am at home with them. James is into absolutely everything and Bethan is constantly craving my attention - there never seems to be any 'down time' for me. However, if you are blessed enough to have children, I do agree that is what you subscribe to when you become a parent. You can have your beliefs Ms Hopkins about people not being paid to be full-time parents. Nevertheless, you are on controversial territory when you suggest that for a parent, whether they work full-time, part-time or not at all, it is easier to stay at home than it is going out to work.
Later in the day I was in the car with the kids and as ever, karma put all of the above into perspective as there was an announcement on the radio. The DEC are launching an appeal for the 1 million or so Syrian refugees who have been ousted out of their homes and who have had their daily lives shattered by Civil War. One moment they are leading a 'normal' life like Western families and the next, it all disappears. "Bloody hell", I thought to myself, "What am I and Ms Hopkins moaning about? Why does parenting in the world that is lucky enough to have Peace on a daily basis, have to be so divisive?".
I didn't pay attention to The Budget myself as it's a load of white noise in my ear. Listening to George Osborne trying to speak over lots of old blokes and a couple of women who are trying to out do each other in the 'Yeah, yeah' stakes is a complete waste of my time. In fact, Daddy Pig and Peppa often make more sense than some of these politicians because the Pig household keep it simple. Having said that, Daddy Pig would be a target for the NHS because he is so overweight and at risk of heart disease, cancer and diabetes; so actually, maybe using the Pig household as an analogy for the post-modern ideal of the nuclear family is a bad idea.
Anyway,the BBC will summarise The Budget for me with the following headline (in my seductive Fiona Bruce voice): "There is no money. We will take off Peter to pay Paul. That is all, and now for the rest of the day's news..."
So I started to think to myself, "Let's move on; the weather is crap; the economy is in free-fall; I sound like fag ash Lil oh yes, and I chopped my thumb with a pair of scissors instead of using them to open a packet of instant porridge. Never mind, I have all the love in the room that I need and I am trying to work on happy vibes".
This positive approach was working until, on the TV,...that bloody woman from The Apprentice appeared. (I have since learned she is called Katie Hopkins). She was on Phil and Holly's sofa basically routing for the plight of full-time parents who work their arse off at home looking after their kids...NOT!!! I'm really not sure whether this woman truly believes in the points she makes or whether she just loves being in the media limelight and enjoys being basked in the controversy of 'her beliefs'.
To be fair, Ms Hopkins' views may (I emphasise the word may) sometimes have credence. That is until she completely batters the debate by making inflammatory comments such as "Parents who stay at home wear it like a badge of honour!" and "Why should we pay parents to stay at home? They just hang around in their pyjamas all day (or something to that effect)". At that point Holly and the woman who embodied the counter-argument went off on one; fair play to them. Holly says that she has all day Friday 'off' to stay at home with her children and openly admitted to it being the hardest job of the week. I couldn't agree more. I feel like I work part-time and have a full-time job at home too.
As a mother of three children, I'm not sure why Ms Hopkins doesn't get this; all I can think is that she has had an easy run of it because as much as I love and adore Bethan and James, I find it incredibly hard work when I am at home with them. James is into absolutely everything and Bethan is constantly craving my attention - there never seems to be any 'down time' for me. However, if you are blessed enough to have children, I do agree that is what you subscribe to when you become a parent. You can have your beliefs Ms Hopkins about people not being paid to be full-time parents. Nevertheless, you are on controversial territory when you suggest that for a parent, whether they work full-time, part-time or not at all, it is easier to stay at home than it is going out to work.
Later in the day I was in the car with the kids and as ever, karma put all of the above into perspective as there was an announcement on the radio. The DEC are launching an appeal for the 1 million or so Syrian refugees who have been ousted out of their homes and who have had their daily lives shattered by Civil War. One moment they are leading a 'normal' life like Western families and the next, it all disappears. "Bloody hell", I thought to myself, "What am I and Ms Hopkins moaning about? Why does parenting in the world that is lucky enough to have Peace on a daily basis, have to be so divisive?".
Wednesday 20th March 2013
It's back and this time it's here to stay...
No. I'm not talking about the snow and the crap weather (By the way mam, didn't you once say that March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb? If that's the case, why did it come in like a very cheesed off rhino who couldn't find a free spot in the swamp to bathe and will probably go out like an incredible angry baboon at the zoo because everyone is taking the mick out of its red arse?).
No, no - I'm talking about the lurgy: Voice gone; chest like Deidre Barlow's is back and the humidifier is going full blast in the night. On the plus side, it seems to only have infected me. Fortunately, the bairns and hubby are at present, lurgy free (fingers crossed).
I don't think it's a coincidence that I'm back on the Sudafed, paras and Hot Toddies at the same time that I have gone back to work. My hands are perfectly shriveled from the amount of antibacterial gel I keep applying before I open doors, touch books, take back pens that I have given out to the kids etc, etc...I mean, the teenagers I work with are lovely, lovely people but let's face it, they are teenagers who, when institutionalised in a school environment, spread the lurgy quicker than Twitter spreads litigation.
Being tired and feeling so crappy has made me feel even more guilty about leaving Beth and James on a Monday and Tuesday; I mean, by last night, I literally walked through the door and keeled over; I had absolutely no energy. Bethan came running up to me saying, "Mummy! Mummy!" and my heart melted. She followed the statement through with, "Mummy's got the Cinderella phone!" (the iPad) and the nanny put even more salt into an already large, open wound by saying, "Oh, she has been so funny all day saying that 'Mummy will bring the Cinderella phone home!". In my delirious state I wailed to Rob whilst in the kitchen (out of the children's sight of course), "My child has missed an Apple product more than she has missed me!".
Again on the plus side, looking at the iPad whilst sitting on the potty has meant that Bethan is weeing like a trooper and setting off the music which tells us she has done a number one. She happily sits there either reading the Cinderella story or watching 'Falling Overs' on the ITV player app. Talk about giving a new meaning to reading on the toilet.
I find it ironic that it is a product from the deceased Steve Jobs that helped Bethan gain the confidence to relax whilst on the loo and not the 101+ other tips that we have been given on our intrepid potty training journey. There is even a Potty Training app but she isn't at all interested as she is so fed up of being shown what to do that we now just leave her to it. We're still not there yet but it's miles better than it was because we are a lot more relaxed about it.
Anyway, I'm offsky to bed now and hoping to watch the programme "16 and Counting" on 4OD. A good friend of mine recommended it to me and I am finally getting round to watching it. Just hope I can keep my eyes open long enough to watch it all.
No. I'm not talking about the snow and the crap weather (By the way mam, didn't you once say that March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb? If that's the case, why did it come in like a very cheesed off rhino who couldn't find a free spot in the swamp to bathe and will probably go out like an incredible angry baboon at the zoo because everyone is taking the mick out of its red arse?).
No, no - I'm talking about the lurgy: Voice gone; chest like Deidre Barlow's is back and the humidifier is going full blast in the night. On the plus side, it seems to only have infected me. Fortunately, the bairns and hubby are at present, lurgy free (fingers crossed).
I don't think it's a coincidence that I'm back on the Sudafed, paras and Hot Toddies at the same time that I have gone back to work. My hands are perfectly shriveled from the amount of antibacterial gel I keep applying before I open doors, touch books, take back pens that I have given out to the kids etc, etc...I mean, the teenagers I work with are lovely, lovely people but let's face it, they are teenagers who, when institutionalised in a school environment, spread the lurgy quicker than Twitter spreads litigation.
Being tired and feeling so crappy has made me feel even more guilty about leaving Beth and James on a Monday and Tuesday; I mean, by last night, I literally walked through the door and keeled over; I had absolutely no energy. Bethan came running up to me saying, "Mummy! Mummy!" and my heart melted. She followed the statement through with, "Mummy's got the Cinderella phone!" (the iPad) and the nanny put even more salt into an already large, open wound by saying, "Oh, she has been so funny all day saying that 'Mummy will bring the Cinderella phone home!". In my delirious state I wailed to Rob whilst in the kitchen (out of the children's sight of course), "My child has missed an Apple product more than she has missed me!".
Again on the plus side, looking at the iPad whilst sitting on the potty has meant that Bethan is weeing like a trooper and setting off the music which tells us she has done a number one. She happily sits there either reading the Cinderella story or watching 'Falling Overs' on the ITV player app. Talk about giving a new meaning to reading on the toilet.
I find it ironic that it is a product from the deceased Steve Jobs that helped Bethan gain the confidence to relax whilst on the loo and not the 101+ other tips that we have been given on our intrepid potty training journey. There is even a Potty Training app but she isn't at all interested as she is so fed up of being shown what to do that we now just leave her to it. We're still not there yet but it's miles better than it was because we are a lot more relaxed about it.
Anyway, I'm offsky to bed now and hoping to watch the programme "16 and Counting" on 4OD. A good friend of mine recommended it to me and I am finally getting round to watching it. Just hope I can keep my eyes open long enough to watch it all.
 |
| Here is the Peppa Pig plaster that I had to use tonight after chopping through my thumb with a pair of scissors. I actually prefer them to the fabric ones that we have. Firstly, they are bright and secondly, they keep water out unlike the fabric ones; you don't just end up with a sore thumb but a sodden one too! |
Sunday 24th February 2013
Well it's here; the night before I leave my babies and go to work for the first time in 10 months.
Feel pretty crap about it to be honest. I mean, I'm going to miss all of the Ross King live Oscar interviews on Lorraine in the morning.
Difficult times; these are indeed, difficult times.
Feel pretty crap about it to be honest. I mean, I'm going to miss all of the Ross King live Oscar interviews on Lorraine in the morning.
Difficult times; these are indeed, difficult times.
Wednesday 20th February 2013
You know your return to work is imminent when your sleep is plagued by weird and wacky dreams. For instance, you turn up on your first day back, for morning briefing in the staff room, with a pair of bowling shoes on having just scored a perfect 10 strikes (that is definitely a dream; I'm lucky if I knock down one pin on a good day).
Really going to miss my bairns on Monday :-(
Really going to miss my bairns on Monday :-(
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