I don't like to turn up to people's houses empty-handed, and, due to visit a friend, I had duly gone out and bought a little something in the shape of a box of Thorntons chocolates.
Now, this sounds a small thing - and indeed it was - but it involved packaging a baby into a buggy, braving a gale-force storm (OK, a bit of wind and drizzle, and actually I took the car) and manoeuvring said buggy round the aisles of a shop. The chocolates were purchased, and it was ticked off of my list of things to do.
Fast forward two hours. I am upstairs with the baby, playing, "Who's that in the mirror? It's you in the mirror! And Mummy in the mirror!" (Literally minutes of fun; if anyone is interested in making a motion picture, I'd be willing to sell the rights.) I don't hear TheBloke (TM) come home from work. That is until he shouts up the stairs, "Daddy's home!"
"Thank fuck," I think. For the baby has just filled her nappy, and this way I can pretend it's on his watch.
We go downstairs. I enter the kitchen. TheBloke (TM) has opened the aforementioned box of chocolates, and is chomping his way through the most delicious ones.
"Nooo!" I say. "They're a present! For a friend!"
"It's not my fault!" TheBloke (TM) said, conviction strong in his voice. "You left me unsupervised. Around chocolates. It's your fault. You should apologise. What did you expect me to do? Not eat the chocolates?"
He graciously accepted my apology.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Cry for help
It's the middle of the afternoon. I've no idea what I've done wrong, but it's something, and it's something bad, because I'm being screamed at. No amount of apologising and pacifying works. I am screamed at repeatedly. Then the hair pulling starts. Fistfuls of my hair are torn at, and the screaming continues.
Finally it quietens down. We have a nice moment. We forgive each other. But I walk around on eggshells, terrified I'm going to do something again to start the violence. I needn't bother. It makes no difference. I've caused the anger again. The screaming starts. Right up close, right in my face. No hair pulling this time, but sharp nails are raked down my face. I bleed. It's my own fault, I tell myself, I caused this. I am punched in the tits.
I say the right things, forgive, pretend that it's OK and it won't happen again. It was just a bad moment. We're over the worst.
Then she simultaneously vomits on me and fills her nappy.
I am in an abusive relationship with my baby.
But because she's quite cute, I keep forgiving her. And I'll get my own back when I'm an OAP and need my nappy changing.
Finally it quietens down. We have a nice moment. We forgive each other. But I walk around on eggshells, terrified I'm going to do something again to start the violence. I needn't bother. It makes no difference. I've caused the anger again. The screaming starts. Right up close, right in my face. No hair pulling this time, but sharp nails are raked down my face. I bleed. It's my own fault, I tell myself, I caused this. I am punched in the tits.
I say the right things, forgive, pretend that it's OK and it won't happen again. It was just a bad moment. We're over the worst.
Then she simultaneously vomits on me and fills her nappy.
I am in an abusive relationship with my baby.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Santa sacked
A dilemma...
As atheists, we have no intention of telling our daughter there is a God, watching her all day, every day and judging her behaviour to be black or white, bad or good. She won't be Christened, and whilst we hope to raise her to be tolerant of other people's cultures, I would also like to encourage in her a scepticism and a reliance on experience, on science, on facts, on provable hypotheses.
How does Santa fit into this?
On one hand, it seems harmless enough - a way of injecting magic into Christmas. I was told of Santa as a child - and whilst by the time I was 5 or 6, I think I'd stopped believing - I don't think it did me any long-term harm. Even after I'd ceased to truly believe, I still enjoyed putting out a mince pie and whiskey for Santa, and some milk for Rudolph, and seeing how they'd disappeared in the morning.
On the other hand - it sounds fairly damaging. "An obese man you've never met before will come into your bedroom. We've given him some whiskey so he might be drunk. You'll be asleep, so you won't see him... probably. It doesn't matter that we don't have a chimney. He can get into any house." I remember my two year-old brother being terrified of Santa, and healthily so.
And the things we're asking children to believe; that he's able to visit every house in the world in one night, that he flies, that he makes the presents with his elves - how does this tally with the scientific scepticism that we'd like to instil in our child? Doesn't Santa get sick of mince pies in every single house? Why does he need so many mince pies? When does he go to the toilet? How does Rudolph get in to drink his milk / eat his carrot (delete as per your family tradition)? How is this present from Grandma, if Santa's elves make the presents and Santa delivers them? Isn't that kind of adding an unnecessary step into the process?
Assuming Santa's magic means he can "freeze frame" the night to deliver all of the presents (which miraculously fit all in one sleigh), isn't it mind-numbingly tedious for him to visit every house in the world leaving presents over, and over? It's certain this this repetitive action (not to mention the exclusive diet of mince pies and whiskey) would send someone insane. Let alone having to do it every year.
It's not just about lying to the child (I'm sure we'll lie to her hundreds of times over the next 18 years: "Broccoli is yummy", "Crusts make your hair curly", "Monty Cat went to live on a farm"), but about challenging her to think through the logic.
Additionally, the whole myth has Christian overtones I'm not that happy with. Santa watches over us all and judges whether you get a reward - encouraging children to behave well for a reward, rather than because it's the right thing to do. He performs miracles. We don't encourage children to think about whether he really does visit the whole world in one night - what about the non-Christian countries? What about the time difference?
The final argument I hear for perpetuating the Santa myth is, "It'll spoil it for the other children." Part of me kind of gets that - it ties in with respecting other people's cultures. But for me - I'm not sure it's a good enough reason. We don't believe in God, and there's no way we'd pretend we did in case we "spoiled it for others".
Aged five I remember saying to my primary school teacher, "My mum says there's no such thing as the tooth fairy." In actual fact, she'd done no such thing. She had - actually - painstakingly written a letter to me from the Tooth Fairy in teeny tiny handwriting. But I was still sceptical. And my scepticism was vindicated when my teacher replied, "Shh, don't spoil it for the other children."
You'll probably be asking, well, why do we celebrate Christmas at all - as atheists, we don't celebrate Eid or Divali or Hanukkah. For me at least, it's about being with family - an excuse for some time off work to all get together. I can't put it better than Tim Minchin does.
Does that tradition need to include Santa? I'm not sure. Thoughts welcomed!
As atheists, we have no intention of telling our daughter there is a God, watching her all day, every day and judging her behaviour to be black or white, bad or good. She won't be Christened, and whilst we hope to raise her to be tolerant of other people's cultures, I would also like to encourage in her a scepticism and a reliance on experience, on science, on facts, on provable hypotheses.
How does Santa fit into this?
On one hand, it seems harmless enough - a way of injecting magic into Christmas. I was told of Santa as a child - and whilst by the time I was 5 or 6, I think I'd stopped believing - I don't think it did me any long-term harm. Even after I'd ceased to truly believe, I still enjoyed putting out a mince pie and whiskey for Santa, and some milk for Rudolph, and seeing how they'd disappeared in the morning.
On the other hand - it sounds fairly damaging. "An obese man you've never met before will come into your bedroom. We've given him some whiskey so he might be drunk. You'll be asleep, so you won't see him... probably. It doesn't matter that we don't have a chimney. He can get into any house." I remember my two year-old brother being terrified of Santa, and healthily so.
And the things we're asking children to believe; that he's able to visit every house in the world in one night, that he flies, that he makes the presents with his elves - how does this tally with the scientific scepticism that we'd like to instil in our child? Doesn't Santa get sick of mince pies in every single house? Why does he need so many mince pies? When does he go to the toilet? How does Rudolph get in to drink his milk / eat his carrot (delete as per your family tradition)? How is this present from Grandma, if Santa's elves make the presents and Santa delivers them? Isn't that kind of adding an unnecessary step into the process?
Assuming Santa's magic means he can "freeze frame" the night to deliver all of the presents (which miraculously fit all in one sleigh), isn't it mind-numbingly tedious for him to visit every house in the world leaving presents over, and over? It's certain this this repetitive action (not to mention the exclusive diet of mince pies and whiskey) would send someone insane. Let alone having to do it every year.
It's not just about lying to the child (I'm sure we'll lie to her hundreds of times over the next 18 years: "Broccoli is yummy", "Crusts make your hair curly", "Monty Cat went to live on a farm"), but about challenging her to think through the logic.
Additionally, the whole myth has Christian overtones I'm not that happy with. Santa watches over us all and judges whether you get a reward - encouraging children to behave well for a reward, rather than because it's the right thing to do. He performs miracles. We don't encourage children to think about whether he really does visit the whole world in one night - what about the non-Christian countries? What about the time difference?
The final argument I hear for perpetuating the Santa myth is, "It'll spoil it for the other children." Part of me kind of gets that - it ties in with respecting other people's cultures. But for me - I'm not sure it's a good enough reason. We don't believe in God, and there's no way we'd pretend we did in case we "spoiled it for others".
Aged five I remember saying to my primary school teacher, "My mum says there's no such thing as the tooth fairy." In actual fact, she'd done no such thing. She had - actually - painstakingly written a letter to me from the Tooth Fairy in teeny tiny handwriting. But I was still sceptical. And my scepticism was vindicated when my teacher replied, "Shh, don't spoil it for the other children."
You'll probably be asking, well, why do we celebrate Christmas at all - as atheists, we don't celebrate Eid or Divali or Hanukkah. For me at least, it's about being with family - an excuse for some time off work to all get together. I can't put it better than Tim Minchin does.
Does that tradition need to include Santa? I'm not sure. Thoughts welcomed!
Thursday, November 08, 2012
One step Ford, two steps back
It has been an age since I have Plogged, for which I can only apologise. I have spent the last six weeks mostly scrubbing poo out of various surfaces and trying to remember the non-rude version of nursery rhymes. And advising the baby that when Jack mends his head with vinegar and brown paper, that isn't actually the official NHS advice; really he should go to the local walk-in centre or A&E, as he could have a subcranial haematoma or at the very least, a concussion and might need an MRI scan.
One of the most difficult things to deal with, as any new parent will attest, is the sudden, irrevocable lack of sleep. Imagine having a hangover. Then imagine that you go out drinking again the same night. Repeat. Infinitely. Around week three, I caught myself thinking, "Never mind, I'll catch up on sleep at the weekend." No. There is no catching up. Not ever, ever again.
So in the fog of this desperation, a shining light presents itself. Anyone who's been a new parent in the last five years is surely aware of Gina Ford. She advocates a strict baby-schedule... the payoff of which is apparently that a five-week old baby will (Holy Grail) sleep through the night! So we try it.
This is how it worked for us.
DAY ONE
7 a.m.
GINA SAYS "Baby should be awake, nappy changed and feeding no later than 7 a.m."
LAURA DOES Crawl out of bed at 7, after two hours' sleep, determined that today will be the day we turn it all around. Change baby. Try to feed baby. Baby is fast asleep. Try to wake baby by gently stroking the back of her neck. Try gentle bouncing. Try more vigorous bouncing. Try something which is borderline shaking. Give up. Go back to sleep.
7.30 a.m.
GINA SAYS "Try to have some cereal, toast and a drink whilst baby has a kick on his playmat."
LAURA DOES Grab a handful of Thorntons chocolates and two sips of water. Realise baby doesn't have a playmat. Order playmat on Amazon, feeling guilty for neglecting child. Stupid baby still asleep.
8.30 a.m.
GINA SAYS "Baby should start to get a bit sleepy by this time. Check the draw sheet and start winding down."
LAURA DOES Wonder what the hell a draw sheet is. Mean to Google it, but baby wakes up and starts bawling. Feed baby.
10 a.m.
GINA SAYS "Baby must be fully awake by now. Drink a large glass of water."
LAURA DOES Baby has finally stopped screaming post-feed, and is beginning to drift to sleep. Try to wake her (see earlier methods). Give up. Boil kettle for cup of tea. Never actually get round to making it.
10.30 a.m.
GINA SAYS "Lay baby on his playmat to have a good kick around."
LAURA DOES Continue to try to wake up sleeping baby. Pull her ears a bit. She smiles in her sleep.
11.15 a.m.
GINA SAYS "Baby needs to be in bed no later than 11.30 a.m. Baby should sleep for two and a half hours."
LAURA DOES Baby is now fully awake and needs feeding again. This is punctuated with screaming, three nappy changes (including a sneaky one where she waits until I've taken the nappy off and then poos in a massive arc, hitting the lovely giraffe decal we have on her bedroom wall. Gina doesn't mention the best way of getting poos off a wall without ruining a giraffe decal).
2 p.m.
GINA SAYS "Baby must be awake and feeding, regardless of how long they have slept."
LAURA DOES Wonder if it counts if the baby hasn't slept at all, and has been feeding on and off for the last two hours. Notices Gina advocates another "good kick" on the playmat. At no point has Gina mentioned holding or cuddling the child. Begin to wonder if Gina has ever actually seen a baby.
5 p.m.
GINA SAYS "Baby should not sleep after 5 p.m. if you want them to sleep at 7 p.m."
LAURA DOES Baby falls fast asleep. Cannot be woken. Try making her dance to Bohemian Rhapsody. This doesn't work, but makes a super-cute Facebook video.
5.45 p.m.
GINA SAYS "Give baby a good kick around without their nappy"
LAURA DOES Not a chance I'm being fooled this time. Last time ended in scrubbing poo out of the nursery carpet and my jeans. Baby starts screaming. Work out how many minutes it is until TheBloke (TM) gets home. Get halfway through calculation and realise I haven't yet had lunch. Or that cup of tea. Also am still wearing pyjamas because Gina didn't tell me I could have a shower, or go to the toilet. Luckily I don't need to go to the toilet because I haven't yet had a drink.
7 p.m.
GINA SAYS "When baby is drowsy, settle in bed, fully swaddled"
LAURA DOES TheBloke (TM) is home. Put him in charge of baby. She hates being swaddled. Screaming ensues. Most of it from the baby. Baby fully awake and wants to play with Daddy. Laura makes dinner whilst Daddy plays with baby. Baby falls asleep.
8 p.m.
GINA SAYS "It's important you have a really good meal."
LAURA DOES Open mouth to take first bite. Baby starts screaming. This is the case every time we try to have food. We now only eat meals that can be eaten one-handed, and pass the baby to each other every six mouthfuls. Baby finally falls into deep sleep.
10 p.m.
GINA SAYS "Turn up the lights fully to wake the baby for a proper feed."
LAURA DOES Turn all the lights on. Baby remains asleep. Undress baby, as per Gina's suggestion, to wake her. Baby remains asleep. Try to feed baby. Baby is too asleep to feed. Try neck stroking, bouncing and borderline shaking. Baby wakes up and feeds. Re-dress baby. Baby now wide awake, wants to play and screams every time we try and put her in her Moses basket. This continues until midnight when I relent and allow her to fall asleep on my stomach. At which point she does a massive leaky shit, and we have to change both our outfits again. Luckily, I'm still in yesterday's pyjamas.
1 a.m., 3.30 a.m., 5 a.m., 6.30 a.m Repeat feeding / shitting / changing scenario. I run out of clean pyjamas.
DAY TWO
7 a.m
GINA SAYS "Baby should be awake, nappy changed and feeding no later than 7 a.m."
LAURA DOES Baby is miraculously asleep. Ignore alarm. Ignore shit on pyjamas. Ignore two-day old vomit in hair. Ignore Fucking Gina Fucking Ford and go back to sleep.
One of the most difficult things to deal with, as any new parent will attest, is the sudden, irrevocable lack of sleep. Imagine having a hangover. Then imagine that you go out drinking again the same night. Repeat. Infinitely. Around week three, I caught myself thinking, "Never mind, I'll catch up on sleep at the weekend." No. There is no catching up. Not ever, ever again.
So in the fog of this desperation, a shining light presents itself. Anyone who's been a new parent in the last five years is surely aware of Gina Ford. She advocates a strict baby-schedule... the payoff of which is apparently that a five-week old baby will (Holy Grail) sleep through the night! So we try it.
This is how it worked for us.
DAY ONE
7 a.m.
GINA SAYS "Baby should be awake, nappy changed and feeding no later than 7 a.m."
LAURA DOES Crawl out of bed at 7, after two hours' sleep, determined that today will be the day we turn it all around. Change baby. Try to feed baby. Baby is fast asleep. Try to wake baby by gently stroking the back of her neck. Try gentle bouncing. Try more vigorous bouncing. Try something which is borderline shaking. Give up. Go back to sleep.
7.30 a.m.
GINA SAYS "Try to have some cereal, toast and a drink whilst baby has a kick on his playmat."
LAURA DOES Grab a handful of Thorntons chocolates and two sips of water. Realise baby doesn't have a playmat. Order playmat on Amazon, feeling guilty for neglecting child. Stupid baby still asleep.
8.30 a.m.
GINA SAYS "Baby should start to get a bit sleepy by this time. Check the draw sheet and start winding down."
LAURA DOES Wonder what the hell a draw sheet is. Mean to Google it, but baby wakes up and starts bawling. Feed baby.
10 a.m.
GINA SAYS "Baby must be fully awake by now. Drink a large glass of water."
LAURA DOES Baby has finally stopped screaming post-feed, and is beginning to drift to sleep. Try to wake her (see earlier methods). Give up. Boil kettle for cup of tea. Never actually get round to making it.
10.30 a.m.
GINA SAYS "Lay baby on his playmat to have a good kick around."
LAURA DOES Continue to try to wake up sleeping baby. Pull her ears a bit. She smiles in her sleep.
11.15 a.m.
GINA SAYS "Baby needs to be in bed no later than 11.30 a.m. Baby should sleep for two and a half hours."
LAURA DOES Baby is now fully awake and needs feeding again. This is punctuated with screaming, three nappy changes (including a sneaky one where she waits until I've taken the nappy off and then poos in a massive arc, hitting the lovely giraffe decal we have on her bedroom wall. Gina doesn't mention the best way of getting poos off a wall without ruining a giraffe decal).
2 p.m.
GINA SAYS "Baby must be awake and feeding, regardless of how long they have slept."
LAURA DOES Wonder if it counts if the baby hasn't slept at all, and has been feeding on and off for the last two hours. Notices Gina advocates another "good kick" on the playmat. At no point has Gina mentioned holding or cuddling the child. Begin to wonder if Gina has ever actually seen a baby.
5 p.m.
GINA SAYS "Baby should not sleep after 5 p.m. if you want them to sleep at 7 p.m."
5.45 p.m.
GINA SAYS "Give baby a good kick around without their nappy"
LAURA DOES Not a chance I'm being fooled this time. Last time ended in scrubbing poo out of the nursery carpet and my jeans. Baby starts screaming. Work out how many minutes it is until TheBloke (TM) gets home. Get halfway through calculation and realise I haven't yet had lunch. Or that cup of tea. Also am still wearing pyjamas because Gina didn't tell me I could have a shower, or go to the toilet. Luckily I don't need to go to the toilet because I haven't yet had a drink.
7 p.m.
GINA SAYS "When baby is drowsy, settle in bed, fully swaddled"
LAURA DOES TheBloke (TM) is home. Put him in charge of baby. She hates being swaddled. Screaming ensues. Most of it from the baby. Baby fully awake and wants to play with Daddy. Laura makes dinner whilst Daddy plays with baby. Baby falls asleep.
8 p.m.
GINA SAYS "It's important you have a really good meal."
LAURA DOES Open mouth to take first bite. Baby starts screaming. This is the case every time we try to have food. We now only eat meals that can be eaten one-handed, and pass the baby to each other every six mouthfuls. Baby finally falls into deep sleep.
10 p.m.
GINA SAYS "Turn up the lights fully to wake the baby for a proper feed."
LAURA DOES Turn all the lights on. Baby remains asleep. Undress baby, as per Gina's suggestion, to wake her. Baby remains asleep. Try to feed baby. Baby is too asleep to feed. Try neck stroking, bouncing and borderline shaking. Baby wakes up and feeds. Re-dress baby. Baby now wide awake, wants to play and screams every time we try and put her in her Moses basket. This continues until midnight when I relent and allow her to fall asleep on my stomach. At which point she does a massive leaky shit, and we have to change both our outfits again. Luckily, I'm still in yesterday's pyjamas.
1 a.m., 3.30 a.m., 5 a.m., 6.30 a.m Repeat feeding / shitting / changing scenario. I run out of clean pyjamas.
DAY TWO
7 a.m
GINA SAYS "Baby should be awake, nappy changed and feeding no later than 7 a.m."
LAURA DOES Baby is miraculously asleep. Ignore alarm. Ignore shit on pyjamas. Ignore two-day old vomit in hair. Ignore Fucking Gina Fucking Ford and go back to sleep.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)