Archive for breastfeeding
Oh, I’m sorry. Have I offended you?
Posted by: | CommentsTowards the end of last year, I got some incredibly amazing feedback and emails and messages from people about my website/business and how it has affected their lives. Well, I got bits all throughout the year, just Christmas brings the cards, and with them, messages of thanks.
I don’t tend to promote this feedback much, because, despite popular opinion, I’m actually quite modest and reserved. More about that feedback later.
What I got from these comments, aside from totally confronted, is how I could actually do more if I weren’t so worried about what people thought of me, and if I weren’t so careful and cautious about accidentally offending someone. Despite my very conscious acknowledgement of various practices and beliefs, and my acceptance of them in a bid to ensure no one is offended, I still receive comment from others who have taken offence.
Let me give you an example. This particular one is my favourite from 2010 and came from a misinterpretation and subsequent Jumping On The Bandwagon that every other ignoramus had done. It was also based, without thought or attempt to understand, on the name of my business “Bad Mother’s Club”.
This site definitely has the right name if this stupid excuse for a parent honestly believe the Govt should be responsible for doing their job of raising their kids for them!
Grow a fucking brain and do your own parenting c***!
I have actually edited the last word for the benefit of my readers. It came to me, quite publicly, on my forums, unedited. Hilariously, I feel the poster used these words in an attempt to offend me. Clearly they have no clue what I’m about, nor, quite obviously, have they read any of my blog or forum posts 
Either that, or they are obviously somewhat inarticulate and unable to string together a better argument. Also, seriously, what a stupid concept! Even with my ability to see things from different perspectives, I can only conceive that a moron would be able to interpret anything I say as that. Just saying.
I have received emails telling me, again, based solely on the name of the business with no further looking into what I’m actually about, emails and near-midnight phone calls telling me I’m a terrible parent, that it’s “parents like you who let your kids run around and won’t discipline them who ruin it for everyone else” and complete misquotes along the lines of “if you don’t’ let your kids under the age of two watch DVD’s they’ll grow up to be stupid”.
Actually, what I said was “It’s no wonder parents are confused. On the one hand, we have all this research telling us not to let your kids under two watch TV, yet you walk into any baby shop and there’s an entire wall devoted to telling you if you don’t let your kids under the age of two watch their DVDs they’ll grow up to be stupid.” Completely different, yes?
I’ve been absolutely slandered on [mummy] blogs by [mummy] bloggers (yes, if you use my business name and link to my site, I will find out about it) accusing me of similar misdemeanours, and for speaking on behalf of a group of mums. Hmmm, here’s the thing; I run a business that specifically supports a group of mums, so when the media ring me for a quote based on the demographic I support, yes, I am speaking on behalf of a group of mums. It’s what running a business like mine does. I’m not “just” a mummy blogger (no disrespect intended, I say that with the utmost respect – just stating the fact that I run a business as well as blog, so things are different).
Ooh, and my other favourite was when I was likened to Hitler, funnily enough by a representative of a breastfeeding support organisation, because I dared to suggest that if people are demanding respect then they need to show respect. Yes, apparently this is just how the Nazis treated the Jews back in the day. By “respecting” them. Shame on me.
And I had a huge laugh after one woman accused me of having a “detachment disorder” because not only did I condone controlled crying, but I also “have a blog devoted to the promotion of controlled crying”. Yes, this blog. This very one you are reading. I still laugh out loud when I recall this.
I’m not telling you this because I want sympathy or “how dare they” or blah blah blah. I’m saying it because I have gone out of my way not to offend, to be cautious and careful of respecting other people’s views (as Nazi-esque as this is, according to some) and accepting other people’s practices and values.
I have been reserved, I have held back and I have, in hindsight, done a heap of people an injustice by doing so.
And, for all the care I have for others and my desire not to offend, it appears that there are a LOT of people out there who do not care if they upset or offend me. Not only that, but they are offending on shallow, misinterpreted and ill perceived basis. They have made no attempt to respect, accept or understand any point of view, other than their own ignorant one.
So, you know what? I’m over being “nice” and doing my best to be inoffensive when it is not appreciated. I am going to offend some people anyway. Personally, I think it gives them something to live for; being offended at something they’ve misinterpreted.
This is not to say I won’t be respectful or accepting, because that is just who I am. And some of you will be offended anyway, overlooking the respect and acceptance and being downright offensive in return.
Go for it. Knock yourself out.
Because, and going back to the start of this post, this is also what I’ve had come back at me, in WAY more posts, messages, cards and emails than have the other:
Thank you for all your support. If it weren’t for you and real mums/ bad mother’s club I would be very lonely / dead right now.
(and variations on that them)
You are a very special person, bringing warmth and happiness to so many.
Thank you for all your support all year round. I’d be lost without you all.
(and variations on that them, too 
)
I can’t thank you enough for what you do. You do an amazing job …
If it weren’t for you and real mums, I would neverhave had the courage to start my own business. Thank you.
You give us a safe haven in a hectic world … you make me feel normal … you make me feel llike I’m NOT a bad mum at all … etc
Real mums saved a life today, and that life was mine.
This last one, I’ve had several of those. Which makes me sad that the society we live in has lead to mums feeling like they want to end their lives. But grateful that I have done what it takes to provide them with a safe place to be. I’m also grateful for the community I have that has helped create this safe haven.
So, if I’ve offended you I’m sorry. I know most of you won’t be offended, anyway, and will have at some point, been offended my the narrow minded, the sanctimonious and the Always Right (you know, “It’s my way, and if you don’t do it my way, you are wrong”).
Given I’ve changed the lives of a handful of people, but in my efforts to not offend I have done them an injustice and I have been abused, personally attacked and others don’t really care whether they’ve upset, hurt or offended me, I’m not going to hold back any more.
If it changes the lives of people who matter, then so be it.
And if my being accepting, respectful and empathetic offends you, then so be it, too.
My most memorable “compliment” came from Nick Coe, multimedia magastar and reporteer with A Current Affair who said about me “She’s nothing if not a pragmatist.”
Yes, yes I am. And I will continue to be. If you’re offended by reality, I can’t help you there. For most of my readers (that’d be you) I’m sure you’ll be completely fine with the concept
The Need to be Alert when you are a Mummy
Posted by: | CommentsAnother day of vague muddling through day and wishing someone where there to relieve me.
Another day of totally screwing up making coffee in new machine.
Note To Self: Make sure pot is actually in machine before pressing “On”, otherwise you are left with extremely sarcastic husband, a huge mess to clean up and incredibly weak coffee. Not much fun all round.
Grumpy heads off to work (after making himself a coffee – much safer) and I sit to feed Chippie.
Thankfully, I have him to keep me alert. Easy done when he sinks his brand new teeth – yes, two of them, that sprung up out of nowhere, with no warning signs at all – into my left nipple.
There’s an awareness no amount of well made coffee will give you. And something no amount of well made coffee will fix.
OUCH!
Parenting – its all in the timing, you idiom
Posted by: | CommentsAfter today’s efforts, I pulled out all stops to get myself a bath with only one child, not three.
I timed dinner perfectly; we could eat as a family, and we’d finish just prior to the Simpsons starting, which meant I could go have a bath with Chippie, and the older two would watch the Simpsons. Because their lives would end if they missed it.
Despite his full belly from dinner, Chippie still insists that he help himself to boob whilst in the bath. Only, he often gets distracted by floaty things (most of which are supposed to be in the bath) and likes to pull himself up to standing.
Alas, we were early in the bath. It was just as he used my left nipple and grabbed, simultaneously, a handful of pubic hair and my caesarean scar to haul himself across my belly and latch onto the other breast, that his two older, and much larger, brothers splashed into our domain. He turned his head, suction still in full … suck …
*sigh*
Of course, it wasnt’ all bad. I managed to discuss, with Monkey Boy, his homework he was supposed to be doing over the last hour. The homework that would probably take him 15-20 minutes if he actually did it. Homework on ‘idioms’.
We discussed a few, and I did the lazy parent thing where I said “what do you think it means”.
“How about …. sharp as a tack?”
“What does that mean?”
“What do you think it means?” and we discussed whether tacks were sharp or not, and what a tack is.
(I really need to get a life)
“It’s like a nail or a pin or something.”
Godzilla, Knower Of All, says “Yeah. They’re sharp. It could be a paper clip, coz they’re sharp. Or a shark!”
I’ve lately been contemplating a nanny. I wonder how much I’d have to pay them to take on some of my life …
Working Rights for Tooth Fairies!
Posted by: | CommentsGodzilla is ever so excited.
His tooth has been wobbly – a Wibbly Wobbler – for a week now. And getting wibblier and wobblier ever day.
It was hurting at tooth brushing time, but not quite ready to come out. Just not “hanging by a thread” enough.
Didn’t stop him repeating “I want it to come out” incessantly at bed time. Even Daddy had a go at pulling it out, but it just wans’t ready.
Eventually got him into bed, and staying there, and set off for the comfort of my own, taking the opportunity to get as much rest as possible before a Wake Up Booby Call.
Just as I’m getting into a good bit in my book, in he comes. How is it they know you’re up to a Good Bit?
His tooth has gone wonky and won’t straighten up. It’s annoying him.
Daddy has another play and, pop, out it comes. It didnt’ really make that noise, but you get the gist.
How exciting!
And its after 10pm – grumble grumble.
Is the Tooth Fairy really expected to exchage tooth for dollars at such a late hour? Is the Tooth Fairy on call, expected to show up immediately? Or can the Tooth Fairy call in the “after hours” excuse and put the job off until kids fall asleep the following night?
Besides, what if the Booby Wakeup Call happens at the wrong time … like when Godzilla is still awake, or doesn’t happen, and the Tooth Fairy misses the opportunity to make her house call overnight?
Surely the Tooth Fairy has some rights?!
It’s human! And it’s alive!!!
Posted by: | CommentsArgh! I hate Thursdays at the best of times.
This year is slightly better, what with the two older ones now doing swimming at the same time. And at the same place.
Not at the same place, only six and a half hours apart with the need for school dropoffs and pickups in between.
Not that it makes the kids any more meniable.
Still, I have found something that sorts them out. Quite by accident.
I feed Chippie, real growed up food – mashed stuff. He likes it. The main problem with it is, well, he now poos human poo.
Not that breast milky poo, but real human poo. It’s gross. And smelly.
I then do some proficient yelling about finishing meals and getting in baths. I strip the littlest one off as two school-aged kids come hurtling in, wrestling, teasing and doing everything but quietly getting undressed and hopping in the bath.
“Right!” I yell, as I whip the nappy out from under a wriggling little bottom and simultaneously point a finger, full of “if you two don’t stop that now” intent.
The poo previously contained in the nappy leaps out, rolls out the bathroom door and chases the now screaming children down the stairs, where it then sits, menacingly, daring them to head back in it’s direction; threatening them to come near so it may work its way under their feet and squelch up between their toes.
(For people who eat their own snot, they are certainly picky about what constitutes ‘grossness’)
Ah, success at last. The universe working with me instead of against.
“Get. In. The. Bath. Now. If you are not in the bath by the time I count to ‘one’ you will have to pick that poo up!”
“No,” come the sobs. “Please don’t make us, mummy.”
“Www….”
I’ve never seen two children get into a bath so quickly, quietly or efficiently.
Now all I have to do is remember to move it before I stand on it. Given my recent state of mind I’ll probably forg …
Um, what was I doing?
A day at the Zoo
Posted by: | CommentsWeather warming up ever so slightly. Nothing like it was the week before we left. Or the day before.
Some suggestion made over breaky (fruit for kids again this morning, their own selection) about going swimming. Oh, dear. Mummy forgot her bathers.
Which haven’t fit since about week 7.5 of my latest pregancy and are unlikely to provide adquate boob coverage at the present moment. Besides, thighs are looking somewhat like mottled blanc mange.
Luckily my children have to love me unconditionally. But its just not fair on the rest of the seeing population. Or the unseeing for that matter. They’re pretty bad.
Thwart the idea and we head off to the zoo instead. Via Train Station of a million stairs and the ferry. Where I am again forced to feed Chippie in howling winds. Discreetly. Ish. It’s getting too hard. And the Discreetness Care Factor is slipping.
Look at some animals with interest (Grumpy and I) and wander around saying “I”m bored” and whinging a lot (the kids).
We check out the toilets, a water fountain, hop on the sky rail thing, go to the bottom and back up, look at some more animals, suggest some more animals to look at, locate a sign and have Godzilla yell “Here it is!”
Wow, great reading, I think.
“The cafe. It’s here!”
So, we sit and eat for an hour, which I believe is the longest we did anything at the zoo.
Stop and feed Chippie on a bench – screw discreetness – because he decided that eating when the rest of the family did was not really on.
Work our way down and out of the zoo, just missing a ferry and hanging around for half an hour waiting for the next one. Five minutes before its arrival, Godzilla needed to go to the toilet, which was located somewhere near the top entrance of the zoo, some 500 kilometers away.
I make him wait. If my pelvic floor can hold it in, surely his can too.
Head back to the hotel. Dinner, bath and back out again to view the city at night up Centrepoint Tower, where Chippied decided screaming in a confined space to avoid sleep was the answer to his troubles.
