Everything is Transient

You know how they say nothing lasts forever, well it’s come to a point where my life is so jam packed that I’ve decided to leave blogging as nurturing career mama here…well after I’ve finished this last bit of chewing your ear off.

There are many reasons why I’ve decided to have a break – lack of time, enthusiasm and a wish to not have the pressure to regularly post.

But this is NOT the end! It might be for nurturing career mama but not for me. I’m still going to be writing guest posts for other blogs on baby/little person issues like breastfeeding, tandem nursing, cloth nappies, weaning etc. So if you’re interested just let me know.

Finally, thanks to everyone who has followed and commented during these last two years.

So long, farewell.

Ezcema Be Gone!

For some time poor baby Boyo has been the smily baby with a scabby head – the scabbage patch kid.
Erm, sorry my boy, I mean eczema. It was driving my little lad wild at night, scratch scratch scratch.

My husband kept suggesting that I take him to the doctor, but I really didn’t want to be slapping on the steroid cream. There must be a more natural way? I thought to myself.

I didn’t need to eliminate the use of soaps because I’ve only ever bathed him in clean warm water.

So we started with basting him up like a chicken with olive oil, but that didn’t really help much. Then I bought a natural baby face cream from Weleda, which seemed to help a little.

Nearing the end of my tube of Weleda cream, I dropped by my local branch of Neil’s Yard and thought I might give their creams a try. Hey, what’s good enough for me is good enough for Boyo. Yes their products do seem a little pricey sometimes, but sooo worth the money. The lady in the shop gave me a sample of a calendula and oatmeal cream that they often offer to people with ezcema. I took it home, but it wasn’t much different to the Weleda cream and was a bit too runny. So I returned to ask if they had anything a bit thicker that I could try.

The herbalist blokie explained that instead he could make up a bespoke cream just for Boyo. I was a little reserved about saying yes. I anticipated having to pay a small fortune. But when he explained that I would get a huge pot for £12 I agreed.

I applied it every nappy change (just cause that was a regular interval that reminded me), for about five days. That’s all it took! Now I apply it about twice a day.

It’s the best £12 I’ve spent in ages, his ezcema and scabby head is gone!

I can’t recommend the service that Neil’s Yard offer highly enough. If you’ve got any kind of skin complaint that you can’t get resolved, give them a go. They can even tweak a cream once they’ve made it up.

Here is a picture of the tub below with a list of the added ingredients that go in the base cream.

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Keeping Tidy

I’m almost tempted to give up on trying to be tidy. With a three year old and five month old it ain’t easy. I dread to think what squalor we’ll be living in in a year’s time when baby boyo is on the move and I’m back at work.

Cheerios everywhere, piles of chopped up straws mingled in with breadsticks. That was the living room for just an hour in the house this morning. I dash to my bedroom to grab a muslin for the baby splodge and almost fall arse over tit on the tiny Tupperware tub surrounded by shredded paper and hair clips.

Then I’m searching for what? Oh I dunno, probably some hair bobble that must be found. And I start wadding through what is the minefield of my daughters bedroom to find a wet flannel. As I pick it up and it unfurls, out drops my deodorant – wth?!

I’m nursing the boy on my bed and hear some strange noises from the bathroom next door. Low and behold the carpet is soaked, so is my daughter and one of her teddies has clearly had a bath in the sink. It was rather a comical picture, but I do keep getting wet feet when I go in.

Now await the dirty dishes, and the kitchen that needs cleaning. I’ll hop to it…not giving up quite yet!

Three Year Old Antics

Preschoolers really can be a laugh a minute. I just had to share with you a couple of my daughters golden comedy moments from the last 48 hours.

As a parent, you will well know that it’s nigh on impossible to go to the loo alone. Not for a #1 and most certainly not for a #2 unless you can crap at the speed of light. Upon pulling up my jeans, my daughter said the following:

“mummy those are quite tight…because your big.”

Ok I get the big thing, she’s not inferring that I’m obese, just that adults are big and children her age are small. It’s what she followed it up with that was a little harsh.

“no you’re massive” followed by a huge grin.

Thank you in a sarcastic tone was really not the best answer, but my self defence mechanisms kicked in, now she thinks I like her calling me massive…hmmm :-(

Today we had a new one. I was looking at the children’s clothes on sale in a shop. She picked up a pair of ear muffs and vocalised her wishes for them. “I want these”, then followed it up with “I want a laptop.” The women next to us smiled and said “she doesn’t want much does she”.

The not so comedy things that are seriously starting to grate on me is her total joy for cutting things, namely bits of paper. Hack hack hack, there are bits of shredded junk mail everywhere. And just when I have cleaned up, it’s like in her world, there is something missing. Yes bits of paper. I’m also not appreciating the breadstick crumbs in my bed, the endless amounts of bags being stuffed with an assortment of toys and goods from around the house and being piled in her bedroom.

But what am I to do? Smile, accept that I can’t even shit in peace and remember that I should enjoy every moment of it.

The Must Have For 2012 – A Homebirth

When my friend first told me she was planning for a homebirth over three and a half years ago, I replied with “well I’m not afraid of hospitals.” NIEVE, hell yes. I had no idea what I was so quickly dismissing. I thought that it was only serious hippy types and people with a hospital fear that actually chose to give birth at home. My friend was neither, she was a paediatrician – she knows what goes on in the maternity ward.

When planning for baby #2 I’d already started finding out more and it dawned on me, there was an even better way if the circumstances were right. Due to various circumstances we didn’t plan a homebirth, it just happened. And well, kinda fell into place on the day (erm mind the pun, although I’d not calling that falling, I still had to do a whole lot of hardworking pushing).

I can admit it now, but I wanted a homebirth so much, at one point I’d convinced myself that I was willing to let the dream go. I’m so pleased that I didn’t need to in the end, that it all happened without the stressy prep – better than I could have ever imagined. Mainly down to the midwife I had and my subconscious determination.

I appreciate that the best way to have a homebirth is to plan it, but don’t write it off if you haven’t. A waterproof picnic blanket and old towels was all we needed. But I guess the most important thing is the right frame of mind.

Any chance I get, I can’t help but rave about how good it was. It’s not just me gloating about the most amazing experience of my life. (cough cough…although it is a little, I still brim with pride now). But mostly it’s because I wish more expectant mothers would get switched onto the idea. This is how birth is meant to be. Not all gowns and hand sanitiser, and polished floors and bed rails.

If you are interested in finding out more, why not pop along to this homebirth support site

Talking Time With Babe

Three year olds say the funniest things. I find it adorable how Babe merges two words into one, or uses a single word in place of a sentence.
Prime example: “Let’s do this first-do, idea?”
Translation = “Lets do this first, is that a good idea?”

Then there is repetition of phrases I have said to her, in a ‘right back at ya’ style…
“Mummy don’t talk d me like that”

And this corker – “You shouldn’t say bloody hell mummy” (I think she’s heard me telling daddy off for swearing a few too many times). In my defence, that day we had spent ages getting ready to go out, and then baby Boyo threw up all down my top.

Not forgetting the phrases that make her sound like a wanna be Jessie J…

“Talk d me mummy, talk d me louder”

From listening to Babe it seems to me that I say darlin far too much, maybe it’s the west country influence.

“Alright darlin, I’m here” said to baby Boyo when crying and I’m not immediately available.

Plus the stark grammar issues:

“I do it, my big girl”

And finally the plea for me to quieten the baby:

“Mummy mummy, boyo wants more milk.”

What about your three year olds? Have you got any classic funnies to share?

Have You Started A Bottle Yet?

A different bottling theme today, and this time I’m refering to bottle feeding Boyo. At this age (and if you haven’t got to go back to work yet), if you can be be bothered, good on you, but for me the hassle is not worth time away. Expressing, sterilising and then feeding – the boob is just soooo much easier.

Baby Boyo is now four and a half months old and the added hassle of trying to get him adapted to taking feeds from a bottle is too much for us to entertain. All that pumping and crying, for what? So I can go out without him for a few hours while hubby fends for himself with the three year old and baby. No thanks. I have no desire to be apart from my baby yet and I doubt hubby has a wish to advance multitasking skills to that level. Although I’m sure he’d love to be able to feed the baby…that part of breastfeeding can be really tough on the dads.

I appreciate that many mums are desperate for some “me time” away from the baby. But that’s just not me. I felt the same with my three year old when she was tiny. I expressed so I could go to the supermarket on my own and guess what, it felt wrong.

My sister in law, who’s hen night is coming up soon asked if I had got him on the bottle yet so I could go along.

I agreed to join for the meal if I could bring him along. But now I’m having second thoughts. It’s in the city centre on a Saturday night, they’re planning on drinking before the meal and the theme is St Trinians. It’s not the fear of dressing up, but its not the quiet meal I envisioned.

So for now baby Boyo is staying near his food source and I’m not going to bottle it. I don’t think I could contemplate an evening without him anyway.