Never Give Up, Never Ever Ever.....

Today's blog dare, following "the worst mother" is "the best mother", what one thing makes you the best mother ever, even if it was just for 5 minutes.

I've told our story here before, that Joseph was born at 27 weeks, weighing 1lb 7oz. We had a few scares on the way, looking back, fairly normal premmie scares, but when you are going through the journey, you have no idea what is normal and what is not, and its only with the passage of time that I can see that our 10 weeks was pretty uneventful in some ways, although very much eventful when we were going through it.

I am proud of myself that I never gave up. And not only that I never have up on Joseph, but I never gave in either. I am quite an unconventional person in some ways. I am never all that bothered about what people think of me. And I approached Joseph's stay in a way that seems pretty unique.

It was important for me to have "things to do". I bought a baby massage book which included a section on special situations, such as babies in NICU. I found ways to do baby massage. I had always spoken to Joseph in the womb, so I kept doing it. We talked about all sorts of things. I even wrote down what I was going to talk to him about each day.

I sang songs, and I read books. The staff thought I was a little eccentric. One of the doctors thought I was a bit mental. He said to me once "do you realise your the mother of a pre term infant", to be met with "really? They don't all come in plastic boxes, are you sure?"

I think when you have parented in a scary situation, it makes you tough, and proud, and even more barmy than you were at the beginning!

I would never call myself the "best mum" but I do think I'm a good 'un and that our experience has made me a better one than I would have been.

The Electronic Babysitter

Today's blog dare promp is "I am the Worst Mother Because..." This is hard for me in a way, because of the whole NICU blame game thing, a lot of people don't realise this, but mummies of premature babies feel a lot of guilt, that "this" is all their fault. Which is, when you look at it rationally, a little bit daft. But, a lot of us naturally feel like failed mothers. So at first I didn't want to write a post on why I am the worst mother, but I think I can make this a light hearted one.

I am the worst mother because I utilise the Electronic Babysitter. In fact, I am doing it right now. In this day and age we have decent children's telly available from 6am - 7pm, my channel of choice is the remarkable Cbeebies. Joseph adores his "telly time". His face lights up when the telly goes on, and he enjoys it.

In my defence, I am on my own all day with Joseph. He gets sick of me. Some days going for a walk is just an impossiblity, we do have some friends locally but not lots, and our groups are only for an hour or two and only on certain days. Joseph is still too young for a lot of them, and gets a bit bored.

Also, in my defence, Cbeebies in particular is created in partnership with education and early years experts, its carefully constructed, and a lot of it is educational. Joseph's speech has been improved by television, in particular Something Special with the delightful Justin/Mr Tumble, which focuses on the use of Makaton. One of my biggest joys this winter has been Joseph climbing up to the window and signing and saying very clearly "look, snow". So thanks Mr Tumble!

Also, Joseph loves music. The Zingzillas are a personal favourite. As well as 4 fake monkeys singing along, they have a guest artist every day. Yesterday was this guy who, rather shamefully, I have to admit I had never heard of, so as well as extending Joseph's musical repetoire, Zingzilla's is extending mine.

Do I leave Joseph alone taped up in front of the television for hours, no I don't. Usually an hour or two a day its on and I do turn it off for meal times, and at most play times. But a little television, I don't think, does any harm at all.

When I Grow Up I Want to Be

Today's blog dare prompt is what did I want to be when I grew up.

When I was a small child I had the usual dreams of vet, nurse, policewoman etc, but by the time I got to late primary school, I had strong ideas about what I would like to be when I grew up. I was a strange child, shy, a bit socially awkward, but generally happy. But, the things I found fascinating, and still do, were somewhat unconventional.

I wrote my first "essay" on communism when I was 9. By 11 I was writing school projects about the widecombe shearer's dispute. I had a very strong social conscience. I remember supporting teacher's on strike. I had a very strong sense of fairness, and felt very strongly about social justice, even at this tender age.
I adored Geoffrey Robertson's Hypotheticals, he was possilby my first hero. 

As I continued my education, this grew stronger. I loved 60 Minutes (the Australian one with George Negus and Ray Martin, and the gorgeous Jana Wendt, amongst other journalists) The story that really struck me was the investigation into the court cases surrounding Lindy Chamberlain and the tragic disappearance of her infant daughter Azaria. I also got very much involved in the story of "deep sleep therapy" at Chelmsford Hospital , and was horrified that no one was truly called to account for what happened to those vulnerable patients, putting their faith in "modern psychiatry".

At first, I wanted to be a lawyer. By the time I was in Year 12 my hero was Clive Stafford Smith, a young lawyer who eschewed a glittering career in the UK to work in some of the grimmest prisons in the Deep South of America. It was whilst watching a documentary about Edward Earl Johnson that my interest in captial punishment grew, and I felt so desperately sad for the poor, often severely intellectually disabled, young black men who ended up on death row. There really did seem one law for the white, rich people, and another for the poor black people. I was deeply angry. I dreamt of being a human right's lawyer.

However during my education I was told on several occasions I lacked the "killer instinct" for law of this type. And to be honest, it probably wasn't incorrect. But what is a shame I guess, is that law isn't all flying by the seat of your pants LA Law type court scenes. A lot of law is reading, research, interviewing, and donkey work. I am sure Clive Stafford Smith would agree himself that behind every articulate, brilliant lawyer, is a team of hard working, behind the scenes researchers and lawyers reading documents, interviewing witnesses, and studing rule of law. One of the problems was that at the time in Tasmania you had to qualify as a barrister and solicitor. And I was unwilling to move interstate.

I decided instead to embark on a career in industrial relations. I did work experience for the Tasmanian Office of Industrial Relations. I adored the Industrial Relations Commission, the hearings much more informal and concilliatory than a court.

Unfortunately, during my studies at university, the world turned on its axis. The new Liberal (equivalent to the Conservative or Republican governments in the UK and US) started dismantling the industrial relations system. Jobs became scarce. So I never achieved a career in this field, although I did spend some rewarding years in my caring job as a union representative, which I loved. And later on, when I myself had to go before a tribunal due to a work related incident, I represented myself, and won my case, against all odds.

 Now I have a job that I also always aspired to, that of a mum, and my job now, is to encourage Joseph in his hopes, dreams and aspirations. I can't wait to see what he wants to be, and how we as parents, can help him get there.

Holiday!

Today's blog dare is the holiday I am looking forward to most this year. The Blog Dare originated in America and I think they may be talking Holiday as in Easter, Thanksgiving or Christmas rather than vacation, but as we are in England lets talk holidays!

I am very lucky this year, I am having two good ones. The first I am really excited about is 6 weeks in Australia. I am travelling with my 21 months old son, which is going to be somewhat of a challenge. We are spending a week with one of my best friends, Allison and her family for a few days, then on to Tasmania, where I was born and lived until I was 30.

It's a poignant trip for us, we did it last year and I thought it would be my last trip for a while, but two big things happened last year. I was made redundant (not sad particuarly) and my mum, rather shockingly, was diagnosed with cancer. I wanted to be there straight away, but when we sat down rationally and considered it, we decided that it would be better if we came when chemotherapy was finished, and mum could relax and enjoy us a bit more.

Also exciting is that my sister has had a baby recently so we get to meet my new nephew, and see my darling nieces again.

The sad thing is, my husband will be fending for himself for six weeks. I will really miss him, and its going to be hard for Joseph not seeing his dad for so long, but needs must.

In September we are having a family trip to Rhodes, a proper, all inclusive week's holiday, and I am really looking forward to that. Once we come back from Australia I am joining the gym, and hope to be a couple of dress sizes smaller by then. I really just need something to focus on and I hope that will be it!

And then, finally, in December we're going to Germany for Christmas with Corey's parents, who live in the North. It is truly lovely where they live, and I can't wait to experience an English Christmas in Germany!

The Best Movie I Ever Watched

I am not a huge movie buff, I don't know why, and I feel sometimes that I've seen enough movies, so this is largely a pretty retro list for this blog dare. I used to go to the cinema when I was younger, but now, I am not so interested in films unless the story really grabs me. I prefer a good biographical film over a comedy or drama. Here are some of my favourites

Annie's Coming Out - I first saw this film when I was about 17, it really resonated with me, its a true story about a young lady who is given up at birth and institutionalised. She cannot walk or talk, but as it turns out, she's intelligent, and a young, idealistic teacher develops a way of communicating with her. Later on in my career as a carer I care for a young man who was very similar, he used a computer to communicate. I think also it resonated with me because for about a year I was misdiagnosed as having a learning disability, so though not as extreme, I felt a bond with Annie.

In the Name of the Father - I love everything about this film, it's true and it's compelling. It has the rather lovely Daniel Day Lewis in it, and the music is amazing, I love both the U2 track and the Sinead O'Connor Track. I am not a massive fan of Emma Thomson, but in this film she is perfect, that moment she deliberately asks for the "wrong" Conlon file, and breaks the case apart is one of my favourite moments in film. But the real star was Pete Postlethwaite, who sadly died last week.

Slumdog Millionaire - I think a theme of barracking for the underdog is developing here, another amazing film about the power of the human spirit and rising out of adversity. I also loved the "Bollywood" aspects of this film which stopped it being quite so depressing. The other thing I loved was that the actors were all unknown in the west, and the film traded purely on its story rather than star pulling power.

Romper Stomper - I had only just turned 18 when I went to see this movie, twice in a week, first with one of my dear friends Laurel, and then with mum. It is a dark and scary film, with incredibly powerful acting and a stunning story line, which showed a part of Australian life and culture that is rarely seen. Unfortunately in this week I also saw Strictly Ballroom, which whilst a stunning film, couldn't quite match Romper Stomper for intensity and the shock factor.

The Picnic at Hanging Rock - I loved the film and the book, the ethereal images of these beautifully dressed young girls walking off into the bush, never to be seen again, is haunting, and drama that ensues with the search is heart wrenching. Contrary to popular belief there is no evidence that this story is true, but it doesn't make it less compelling.

Priscilla - Queen of the Desert - I truly adore this film, and I can never quite pick who is my favourite character, I adore the humour of  it, the bitchiness, the costumes, and the story line. It's a film that seeks to entertain, but also to gently challenge the homophobia, I think. It's a lovely movie, and what's not to love about the soundtrack?

A Beautiful Mind - Another Russell Crowe picture, but this film really grabbed me, the story line, the whole smoke and mirror thing of not knowing which parts of the story are real, and which are the makings of the lead character's fractured mind. The acting is understated and superb, the story sympathetic yet honest. It's a move that has stayed with me.

Like A Bird.....

It seemed fitting today after my post this morning about the ugliest insect I ever saw, to tell you about the bird that saved my life .

For those reading for the first time, to put it briefly, I had a horrible pregnancy, and was hoping things were starting to get better in time for my third trimester. This particularly day I was 26 weeks and 5 days pregnant. I had been off work for about 10 weeks, as my blood pressure was unstable. My doctor and midwife thought I was over reacting, but it felt like if I had the remotest bit of stress it skyrocketed, so I decided until I got a straight answer about what was happening, I would stay at home.

In the morning my midwife had come and checked my blood pressure, I was having daily monitoring. We had a chat and she left. During the day I started to feel unwell. Just very tired, a bit headachy, and afternoon nausea (whoever called it morning sickness was having a laugh, at pregnant ladies' expense). It wasn't unusual for me to feel naff, so I went to bed. I went into quite a sleep, and woke to the sound of cat yowling, Atticus is pretty much silent, hardly ever does anything more than raise a purr.

I got up, feeling very light headed and confused, and shaky. There was an awful, ominous noise coming from the bathroom. The cat was frantic, the noise was getting worse. My first thought was it was my upstairs neighbour working on his flat, but if this was the case, why was the noise underneath my ground floor flat, it just didn't make sense, but I went and got him anyway.

I don't think I made any sense when I knocked on his door! He came in with his tool box, and the noise had stopped. I felt really stupid. But Martin decided to have one last look in the bathroom, and it started again, banging and crashing.

It took a couple of moments, but we realised a bird had become trapped under the bath, no wonder the cat was going mental! Meals on Wheels (well wings).

Martin carefully took the side off the bath panel, and the bird went free, it took a few minutes but we got it outside. Martin went upstairs, and soon after my husband came home. The rest of the evening was spent with me still feeling naff, and due to this upset, unable to sleep. I spent the next few hours trying to work out whether it was shock, sinus trouble triggered by the feathers or pre eclampsia.

I am convinced that had I not been woken by the bird, I would have had an eclamptic seizure in my sleep and may have died.

So little bird, trapped under my bath, thank you. You saved my life.

Put a saddle on it!

Today's blog dare is a really fun one, the ugliest insect I ever saw. I refuse to have a picture of the evil things on my blog. End of.

When I was 20 I went to Fiji on a missionary challenge for one month. We started with one week in the mountains half way between Sigatoka and Suva at a conferece, and then spent 2 weeks working with street kids in Suva, we had a few days either side to relax and recuperate.

What I discovered in our dormitory at the conference was cockroaches. Coming from Tasmania I had limited experience with these beasts, but I knew one thing. They were the devil's work. An insect whose footsteps you can hear, has to be the devil's work.

Now perhaps its the passage of time, and like the one that got away, these beasties have got bigger and bigger in my head, but I swear if you got six of these things in a row, and hooked up some harnesses, they would have been just as effective as any reindeer. Hideous.

One night we went up to bed, there were six of us in this room. I went in first, and ran out and screamed, another girl did the same thing. We huddled on the verandah refusing to go in. But we were rescued. Brigid, a tiny New Zealand girl, she must have been 5 foot nothing and the build of a child walked into our dormitory, looked the beast head on, grabbed the Fijian broom (like your stereotypical witches broom but without the handle) let out a huge Maori cry and launched said broom at said beastie.

Well, no one told us these evil (and I use this word in Aussie vernacular so as not to offend) bastards could fly! As the broom flew towards it the cockroach swooped, landing in Brigid's hair, whose bravado momentarily left her, and she ran screaming, and huddled with the rest of us.

As we were cowering, three huge Fijian men came striding up the stairs, ready to take on our attacker. "Right, where is he?" We whimpered, pointing to the cockroach, now sitting on the top of the window, laughing at us (ok the ability of cockroaches to laugh is debatable but I am sure that's what it was doing). Manassah (you couldn't make it up) a trainee doctor and about 7 foot tall glared us, walked calmly to the cockroach, scooped it up in his huge hands, and launched it out the window.

He looked at us with a mixutre of annoyance and pity, and sent us all to bed. He thought the cockroach was some sort of deluded would be attacker, not a, supposedly, harmless insect.

We all slept with one eye open. From that night on I took no chances. I sprayed the room thoroughly with Aeroguard every evening, on top of and underneath the mattresses!