Having a child who is allergic to things can be hard going at times. Like most issues in life, mostly you just get on with things, and it is amazing how quickly it becomes second nature to adapt your daily meals and put together a plate of food when out and about.
Some things stay resolutely out of reach though, and one of those things is cake. There doesn't appear a lot of latitude when your child has to steer clear of wheat, egg and dairy, unless that is you manage to find a recipe like this one
Babycakes NYC
There aren't many things that make me want to go to The States, but this is one of them.
I'm still trying to persuade my baby sister to open a tea room in Gib because she is queen of cakes (hell I'll open it and run it if she agrees to bake!!) and I think if I throw enough recipes at her, maybe she'll give in eventually.
Oh and Alfie had a dermatologist appointment yesterday and the lovely nurse clearly fell instantly and profoundly in love with my little lad, she was hugely complimentary about how well we're managing his skin, how he's growing (16 whole pounds now, although my lower back demands a re-count citing pessimistic scales) and also commented that she had rarely seen such a happy, well adjusted child and that Keith was clearly doing an amazing job of being a stay at home dad.
I don't think I really need to tell you how much I was beaming when I left the hospital, do I?
We have our first dietitian appointment on Friday - I just REALLY hope it is as positive!!
Wednesday, 28 July 2010
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
Holidays
Well we survived our camping holiday. Actually we did more than that, other than one night of absolute screaming ab dabs (from me as well as Alfie) it was a fabulous holiday.
I think it went so well because we were quick to work out that there was no way that we were going to get Alfie to bed at his usual time and rather than go through 3 hours of screaming we just let him stay up with us.
Yeah suck your teeth all you like, it was 30o and our tent doesn’t come fitted with a blackout blind. Whatcha gonna do?
Being selfish, my absolute favourite part of the holiday was spending time with Keith and Alfie in the pool. I’d never taken Alfie swimming before and actually, I hadn’t been swimming with a fella in over a decade. It felt really lovely (especially on the day we had the whole pool to ourselves) just to mess about, watching our son splashing around enjoying himself. There is even video of my giving him a piggyback around the pool in much the same way my parents used to do with me when I was small. I hope he remembers moments like those when he grows up.
Another of the special moments for me was finding the most awesome toy shop I have ever seen in Le Mans. I wanted to walk up to the counter and tell the shopkeep to wrap up one of everything. The place was stuffed to the rafters with traditional wooden toys, and after balking at the prices, we eventually decided to let Alfie pick out a toy car to take home. In lieu of meaningful linguistic skills, we sat him on the floor, lined up several cars and let him crawl to the one he loved the most.
This is the one he picked and as you can see, it’s very tasty.
On the mobility front I have news ... Alfie is cruising!! I do wonder whether it might be a consequence of us having had to restrict his crawling for a week. We took rugs for him to crawl around on, but a forest floor is more appealing than a nice soft rug, and sticks are apparently wonderful teething toys. I’m sure French hospitals are very well run places, but we thought it best to avoid a visit if possible: My French isn’t really up to explaining why my child has a stick wedged somewhere he shouldn’t.
Since we’ve been back things have gotten a bit crazy not least because we have started thinking about nursery schools for Alfie. I know we are a little early, but a chance advert led us to a Montisorri school in the next town and we have been a little busy looking into whether we could send Alfie there in 2 years.
It’s really odd to even be thinking about a private education for our son, but the more we look into the way these schools are run, the more it feels like it might be the right option for him. Aged just 8 months, he demonstrated his ability to throw an epic hissy fit (I believe the cause was his father trying to remove an inappropriate trolley part from his mouth in a hypermarket) and it is becoming gradually clear that he is truly, and completely, my son.
Older members of my family feel free to chuckle at will about Karma. Other readers, a short précis of my time at primary school for you:
Apart from the previously mentioned “does not suffer fools gladly” report from a teacher, I practically had my own chair outside Miss Myler’s office. I. Was. A. NIGHTMARE.
In hindsight it wasn’t anything to do with being a bad child, I just didn’t have the emotional tools to deal with the gut clenching reaction I had every time someone in authority clobbered me over the head. Not literally, I mean that’s what it felt like when a teacher/ parent told me to Do Something NOW.
I think if Alfie carries on developing the tendencies he has already shown, he is going to react far better if offered the opportunity to make the right decisions rather than being told what that decision is. Either that, or I best just warn the Headteacher to stick us on speed dial.
Monday, 5 July 2010
Things That Go Bump In the Night
Things seem to happen very suddenly around Alfie. One moment he is content to sit in one spot like a miniature Buddha playing with things that come within range and occasionally toppling over onto a stack of cushion, the next he is putting his ridiculously long legs to use scurrying after his favourite toy.
Honestly, you want to check out the 0-60 on this kid!!
What astounds me most is how quick the transformation has been, and how woefully unprepared we are. It actually feels like a sudden loss (which in terms of peace and quiet I suppose it is) and I’m still rather in shock, especially after the chaos of last night.
There’s no easy way to say it, so I’m just going to come out with it – Alfie fell out of his cot. There, it's out there, I am a bad mother.
The fault is entirely mine for not connecting speed crawling with a sudden desire to scale the north face of the Eiger. When I put Alfie down, I left the side of his cot down as I always do. Many hours passed and clearly our little boy decided that the dead of night was the perfect chance to perfect his crawling skills (yes Alfie, busted, now I know how you seem to magically acquire these skills overnight!!) and overestimated the ability of the cot to contain him.
Keith and I were woken by a twang, an almighty thump and a paint stripping WWWAAAAAAAAAROOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! emanating from the next door bedroom. We both cleared the bed in a headlong dash to see what doom had befallen our first born only to see the cot as we had left it, and no Alfie in sight.
Don’t ask me how he managed to do it, but our future MENSA candidate (snort) had somehow managed to end up under the cot, and was trying to crawl out, only to be blocked by the lower half of the cot side. In effect, he had managed to imprison himself and this was producing more grumbling than his original inglorious exit.
As soon as I picked him up, he gave vent to a lusty expression of woe and not having the heart to leave him in his bed (or actually the ability to reassemble the cot in our semi conscious state) we took him into bed with us. This act of kindness was mistranslated as an invitation to use his parents as a jungle gym which not even a cheeky bottle could sate.
He finally settled down and stopped kicking me in the back when his father rugby tackled him and held him in a bear hug until the Rescue Remedy kicked in and he dozed off.
I pity poor Keith, his life just got a WHOLE lot harder. I pity me too, because we’re about to go away for 7 days camping with the child, in a tent that we discovered yesterday has a totally rotten groundsheet, and guess what? It’s going to thunder. Oh yes.
In my spare time, I’ve also been thinking hard about legendary midwives and what that means. I started a topic on a forum I use and people were really quick to name their local heroes. It’s odd because that’s not really where I wanted to take this subject but maybe that was my mistake. Maybe it is the local heroes that I should be shouting about on here, rather than the ones that are already household names. I’m not sure.
One post really did stand out for me though, and it was this one:
“Well, I'd have to nominate Phyllis Winters of Montrose Birth Unit in Scotland.
She has assembled a fantastic team of midwives who respect the informed choice of parents. They have supported women (that I know of) who have not necessarily been low-risk, informing them of the risks etc but not just blanketly refusing if women fall out with standard policies. They run the best little Birth Unit in the land, also attending homebirths. I cannot rate them highly enough, and it's all down to Phyllis really.
Montrose also runs a Student Study Day each year which is very well regarded.
I feel very blessed and honoured to have such midwives on my 'doorstep' who have welcomed and encouraged me, supporting me in my role as a Doula.
These are the midwives every women deserves. But worryingly, they feel a little under threat of closure again, more so the sister unit in Arbroath.
http://www.birthinangus.org.uk/
We CANNOT allow the choice of birthing in these units to be taken away from women, some of whom come from far afield to birth there.
K”
So first of all, Phyllis, should you ever run into this blog, I hope you know how much you mean to the ladies you serve, because clearly you are getting something seriously right here.
Secondly, what is it with this country and destroying the beacons of good practice?!?
It feels like yesterday I was on the Birth March to support the Albany Midwives and yet I keep hearing more and more tales of services like theirs being closed down.
Government of Britain, you cannot continue to preach about choice for women, and quality of service and then take a hatchet to the very services that live those virtues!!
If you want to save money, there are plenty of places you can do it. Hell, I’ll even stop whinging about losing £750 in tax credits this year if you’ll use that saving to keep funding vital facilities like this one open.
Considering how much I can whinge, I call that value for money myself!
Honestly, you want to check out the 0-60 on this kid!!
What astounds me most is how quick the transformation has been, and how woefully unprepared we are. It actually feels like a sudden loss (which in terms of peace and quiet I suppose it is) and I’m still rather in shock, especially after the chaos of last night.
There’s no easy way to say it, so I’m just going to come out with it – Alfie fell out of his cot. There, it's out there, I am a bad mother.
The fault is entirely mine for not connecting speed crawling with a sudden desire to scale the north face of the Eiger. When I put Alfie down, I left the side of his cot down as I always do. Many hours passed and clearly our little boy decided that the dead of night was the perfect chance to perfect his crawling skills (yes Alfie, busted, now I know how you seem to magically acquire these skills overnight!!) and overestimated the ability of the cot to contain him.
Keith and I were woken by a twang, an almighty thump and a paint stripping WWWAAAAAAAAAROOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! emanating from the next door bedroom. We both cleared the bed in a headlong dash to see what doom had befallen our first born only to see the cot as we had left it, and no Alfie in sight.
Don’t ask me how he managed to do it, but our future MENSA candidate (snort) had somehow managed to end up under the cot, and was trying to crawl out, only to be blocked by the lower half of the cot side. In effect, he had managed to imprison himself and this was producing more grumbling than his original inglorious exit.
As soon as I picked him up, he gave vent to a lusty expression of woe and not having the heart to leave him in his bed (or actually the ability to reassemble the cot in our semi conscious state) we took him into bed with us. This act of kindness was mistranslated as an invitation to use his parents as a jungle gym which not even a cheeky bottle could sate.
He finally settled down and stopped kicking me in the back when his father rugby tackled him and held him in a bear hug until the Rescue Remedy kicked in and he dozed off.
I pity poor Keith, his life just got a WHOLE lot harder. I pity me too, because we’re about to go away for 7 days camping with the child, in a tent that we discovered yesterday has a totally rotten groundsheet, and guess what? It’s going to thunder. Oh yes.
In my spare time, I’ve also been thinking hard about legendary midwives and what that means. I started a topic on a forum I use and people were really quick to name their local heroes. It’s odd because that’s not really where I wanted to take this subject but maybe that was my mistake. Maybe it is the local heroes that I should be shouting about on here, rather than the ones that are already household names. I’m not sure.
One post really did stand out for me though, and it was this one:
“Well, I'd have to nominate Phyllis Winters of Montrose Birth Unit in Scotland.
She has assembled a fantastic team of midwives who respect the informed choice of parents. They have supported women (that I know of) who have not necessarily been low-risk, informing them of the risks etc but not just blanketly refusing if women fall out with standard policies. They run the best little Birth Unit in the land, also attending homebirths. I cannot rate them highly enough, and it's all down to Phyllis really.
Montrose also runs a Student Study Day each year which is very well regarded.
I feel very blessed and honoured to have such midwives on my 'doorstep' who have welcomed and encouraged me, supporting me in my role as a Doula.
These are the midwives every women deserves. But worryingly, they feel a little under threat of closure again, more so the sister unit in Arbroath.
http://www.birthinangus.org.uk/
We CANNOT allow the choice of birthing in these units to be taken away from women, some of whom come from far afield to birth there.
K”
So first of all, Phyllis, should you ever run into this blog, I hope you know how much you mean to the ladies you serve, because clearly you are getting something seriously right here.
Secondly, what is it with this country and destroying the beacons of good practice?!?
It feels like yesterday I was on the Birth March to support the Albany Midwives and yet I keep hearing more and more tales of services like theirs being closed down.
Government of Britain, you cannot continue to preach about choice for women, and quality of service and then take a hatchet to the very services that live those virtues!!
If you want to save money, there are plenty of places you can do it. Hell, I’ll even stop whinging about losing £750 in tax credits this year if you’ll use that saving to keep funding vital facilities like this one open.
Considering how much I can whinge, I call that value for money myself!
Friday, 2 July 2010
People Power
It is really is heart warming to be able to write this update, because I know that all of you are just perching your butt cheeks on the edge of your seats to know about the state of midwifery in New York.
Well actually I was, because with the recent changes for the worse in Australia, and then this change in New York, things were looking bleak for women. Whether you love the idea of homebirth, or think that all births should involve epidurals and episiotomies, I’m not sure it sits well with any of us to think that we aren’t allowed to make the choices that are right for us.
Personally, I find it so hard to contemplate that it’s not that long since the days when women were handcuffed to beds, shaved and given compulsory epidurals, and all in the name of “good medicine”. We’re talking within my lifetime, and despite how I feel most mornings, I’m not that old. Certainly not old enough that I should bear witness to such acts of barbarity.
I suppose that in part is why I break out in a cold sweat when I see stories that seem to move us back towards those dark days, and the de facto banning of homebirth within New York seemed to be one such small step.
So imagine my joy when I read this
Ladies of New York, I salute you. You are powerful, Amazonian women to have taken back your birth services so successfully.
And because I’m that sort of person, all this talk of powerful women made me think about who I would have up there if I were putting together a list of legendary midwives. I actually went online to look for one but apparently midwifery isn’t big on Top 10 lists, because I couldn’t actually find one.
So I’m going to start my own, and obviously any contributions are welcome.
My first nomination for a list of legendary midwives is Maude Callen. This awesome lady was born in the wrong country, at the wrong time with altogether the wrong coloured skin - she was a black southern lady growing up in the early 1900s in rural USA.
Despite that, she managed to get a 12 page spread in Life magazine in 1951, when she was followed by W. Eugene Smith who captured her life as a Nurse-Midwife.
The photos are just amazing, as are the many others you can find on the web, and show a woman who just seems to radiate wisdom and calm. So much so, in fact, it seems to come clean out of the photos and fill the space around you.
She served her community in often desperate conditions until her death in 1990 aged 92 years old. I’m sure she left a mighty big footprint behind
Well actually I was, because with the recent changes for the worse in Australia, and then this change in New York, things were looking bleak for women. Whether you love the idea of homebirth, or think that all births should involve epidurals and episiotomies, I’m not sure it sits well with any of us to think that we aren’t allowed to make the choices that are right for us.
Personally, I find it so hard to contemplate that it’s not that long since the days when women were handcuffed to beds, shaved and given compulsory epidurals, and all in the name of “good medicine”. We’re talking within my lifetime, and despite how I feel most mornings, I’m not that old. Certainly not old enough that I should bear witness to such acts of barbarity.
I suppose that in part is why I break out in a cold sweat when I see stories that seem to move us back towards those dark days, and the de facto banning of homebirth within New York seemed to be one such small step.
So imagine my joy when I read this
Ladies of New York, I salute you. You are powerful, Amazonian women to have taken back your birth services so successfully.
And because I’m that sort of person, all this talk of powerful women made me think about who I would have up there if I were putting together a list of legendary midwives. I actually went online to look for one but apparently midwifery isn’t big on Top 10 lists, because I couldn’t actually find one.
So I’m going to start my own, and obviously any contributions are welcome.
My first nomination for a list of legendary midwives is Maude Callen. This awesome lady was born in the wrong country, at the wrong time with altogether the wrong coloured skin - she was a black southern lady growing up in the early 1900s in rural USA.
Despite that, she managed to get a 12 page spread in Life magazine in 1951, when she was followed by W. Eugene Smith who captured her life as a Nurse-Midwife.
The photos are just amazing, as are the many others you can find on the web, and show a woman who just seems to radiate wisdom and calm. So much so, in fact, it seems to come clean out of the photos and fill the space around you.
She served her community in often desperate conditions until her death in 1990 aged 92 years old. I’m sure she left a mighty big footprint behind
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