I’ve been sitting here staring at the packet for half an hour.
These little pills, I know, are offering me the chance to numb my mind for a while from the anxiety and depression that’s taken hold of me. I’ve resisted them for so long that it feels strange to finally be here. As I said in this post, I can’t help feel like I’m failing.
I wonder if I’m really depressed enough to take them. After all, I’m generally okay. I’m not walking the streets in my pyjamas. I don’t feel a black cloud above me all the time. I’m still functioning as I always do, albeit with my mood swinging on a pendulum. I can be switched on one day, enough to write posts like this, but the next I can only stare at the screen blankly, my mind a fog.
But is this enough to start these tablets? I’ve spent over two years avoiding using them. I know this is a last resort for me.
I’ve been here before you see.
Do I really want to go here, again?
The answer is no. I don’t want to go here again, but I feel I must. Continue reading
My hubby and I had a discussion about our parenting styles. I felt he is too much on the children’s cases, telling them off for this and that. He feels I’m too inconsistent, one minute strict the next turning a blind eye.
It’s so hard. We were good parents once. We had it sussed. We had our routines and rules, nothing over the top, just clear and manageable boundaries. But then grief stepped in and cocked it all up!
One day I’m set on re-establishing rules and boundaries, the next I’m beating myself up with guilt for depriving them of the things they want or shouting at them for making a mess or not doing what they are told.
I wrote this post while I was pregnant with Grubbalo and Crackernut and Ponymad Girl were trying to understand what having a new baby meant.
Tonight, I was sat with my six-year-old son and 11-year-old daughter on the sofa and my son raised the topic of my going into labour. I reminded him that he was born just a few feet in front of us, on the lounge carpet, which he finds unreal.
When I asked him how he would feel when he hears the news that the baby is here, he said he’d not like it as it means I will spend all my time caring for the baby and won’t have any left for him; that people will bring the baby presents; and, importantly, that the baby will get the ‘day off’ (meaning school). Continue reading
It can seem like there’s plenty of advice about what not to do when it comes to grief. I’ve written a number of emotional posts about how some people get it ‘wrong’ when talking (or not!) to a beavered parent, such as this one and this one. While my rants are only one element of my complex grief emotion, I am, in the main, very accepting that people can’t be expected to ‘get it right’ all the time when dealing with such a sensitive issue (though I have heard some true howlers!).
But there are times when it’s worth knowing just what bereaved mums like me want from our friends and acquaintances particularly in the early days.
At the weekend, I posted a picture on Instagram of Crackernut proudly holding up his Golden Boot – the weekly award given to the coach’s trainer of the week. He’s been waiting for ages to get something like this, so I’m sure many of you know that when the day finally comes it’s a very special moment, and a real confidence booster. However, I’m actually annoyed at the football club and here’s why…
I posted a picture of my baby son sleeping on my bed on my Instagram page (pop over and follow me if you like) and also his unmade cot in my first Project 365 weekly update. Sleep’s been on my mind a lot lately.
I’ve always co-slept with my babies, it was easier with breastfeeding and meant I could sleep as much as possible in between. But with the other three, they were always, and quite naturally, ‘off the boob’ by six months and in their own rooms (because by then they were sleeping through).
Except Baby J has decided he’s not doing things the way his siblings did!
The aim of having my own business was always to give up the day job so I could be around for my children, and I finally did so in 2010. The best thing I ever did… in many ways. My editorial business is thriving, I keep a large group of subs busy and am now the Managing Director, overseeing the workflow, a position I only dreamed of when I started out. However, it hasn’t come without sacrifices and big changes to my life.
I haven’t really written much about Crackernut so far.
He’s seven now and really coming out of himself. He’s a fairly straightforward child. He can express his emotions, laugh himself out of a bad mood and is fairly independent.
Girl 2 and I have the same distinctive eyes. Grey/green with a dark rim. I think they are beautiful!
This feels a bit like a confession… I want to give up breastfeeding.
Baby J is now seven months old. I’m amazed I’ve got this far! After the horrible start, which took me around 16 weeks to comfortably establish feeding, I didn’t want to give up.
I passed the six-month mark and thought I’d wean him off then. I know it’s advised to feed for a year these days, but I just couldn’t see myself doing it that long, what with teeth and the endless night feeds. I fed Boy J up to six months and that was what I had in mind this time round too.
But we’ve now passed seven months and I’m still in two minds.
So, I’ve been thinking about the reasons I want to give up breastfeeding: