Birthday Musings

A week ago yesterday my husband and I headed out to celebrate my 35th birthday. Our little girl was safe and snug in nana and granddad’s house so we had the whole night ahead of us to let go and just relax. A night of pizza, prosecco and partying awaited. We ended up in bed by half eleven.

This wasn’t our intention. But rather it was the by-product of parenthood; the accumulation of numerous sleepless nights means that you burn out far quicker than in your pre-parent days. We were doing quite well at the beginning of the night, all shiny and clean in our dressy clothes. I had treated myself to a top that couldn’t be used for general mum wear; this was a big step for me. Normally I don’t buy anything that can’t be re-used for around the house or doing the grocery run. I don’t get out enough to justify good money on ‘going out’ clothes. But it was my birthday so I took a leap. I disguised the bags under my eyes with layers of concealer and thought I might just pass muster. Thankfully no photos of the night exist and in my memories (glazed by prosecco) I look sparkling!

So there we were; a mini bottle of prosecco for me and a fancy ale for my husband. We ate pizza and sipped our drinks; revelling in the fact that our clothes would not soon be covered in sauce, our conversation wouldn’t soon be interrupted by a scream and our night would not soon be cut short. We ordered another drink instead of dessert. We then left to find a cosy corner in a pub where we could pretend to be ten years younger. This is where the night started to take a turn. We couldn’t decide on a pub; this one was too scruffy, this one too snooty, this one too grim…and on it went. Finally we ended up in a somewhat decent location. I noticed a devilish gleam in my husband’s eye.

‘Do you fancy a shot?’

Oooh it had been a long time since I’ve had a shot. I should be clear though that I don’t have a good history with shots. Tequila usually ends with me legless and talking nonsense. My one encounter with a Baby Guinness warranted a swift trip to the toilet and a promise never to hold commerce with Mr. Guinness or any of his babies again…As for vodka shots enough said. So I had to give this decision serious consideration. While I mulled over my choice the pub closed (it was a Monday night and practically dead in town) so we ended up in a hotel bar.

‘I’ll just have a Bailey’s.’ I said somewhat shamefully.

My husband returned with two Baileys and a packet of crisps.

On the walk home we came to the conclusion that while our mad, crazy, youthful days are far behind us there’s nothing wrong with a Baileys and a packet of Tayto to see in a new year.

 

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The human face behind the debate

I had a little epiphany while we were at the zoo the other day (and not just about how important mama instincts are). As we were taking a quiet moment in a shady part of the zoo, watching some birds hanging out in the sun, another family joined us and sat a little way away. After a few minutes we decided to keep on trekking. As we passed this little family of four I noticed the mother was breastfeeding. She looked completely relaxed and at peace with the world. It was a lovely sight. I gave her a smile as I went by and she smiled back; two mothers just acknowledging each other. But it made me stop and think. A great way to encourage other mothers, especially those who may feel uncomfortable about public breastfeeding, is to just offer a simple smile. That may be all it takes to relax somebody and put at them at ease in a sometimes challenging world. The mother breastfeeding for the first time. The mother whose children are killing each other in the breakfast aisle. The mother with the loud toddler. The mother whose baby won’t stop crying. A smile can really help. I realised that the best way we can show our support to other mothers is just showing we get it. We either have been there or we can understand what they are feeling.

I read an interesting article in Empire magazine this morning about a new film coming out called ‘Loving’. It deals with interracial marriage in 1950s America. The director, Jeff Nichols, made an intriguing point. He said “I don’t like things that preach. I don’t think that’s how you further the conversation. You further the issue through showing people the humanity at the base of the issues – which we so often forget.” This statement really had an impact on me. Perhaps this is what has happened with infant feeding. It has become a highly charged debate with everyone from politicians to celebrities weighing in on both sides and we can sometimes forget that behind every decision is an actual human being making a choice out of love; whatever that choice may be. So what can we do? Well as mothers we can take a step back, stop and think. Why do we fuel the Mummy Wars? We all keep adding energy to these heated debates; infant feeding, early potty training, ideal age to start school. I’ve judged (and been judged I’m sure) but I am now trying my best to see the bigger picture and not just leap to assumptions (they make an ass out of you and me, don’t ya know). We can start by showing other mothers some solidarity. So the next time you see a woman struggling with a toddler who is having the mother (pardon the pun) of all tantrums, catch her eye and share a little sympathy. It might just make her day a lot easier…and it will definitely make you feel great.

We’re all going to the zoo…

Last Saturday my husband and I decided to brave the zoo with our tiny lady. It’s a wonder we have never gone before but then I didn’t really feel it was worth the hassle involved until our daughter was actually old enough to appreciate that yes that’s an actual elephant! I am not the type to put myself through unnecessary hardships and I like to have some kind of pay-off in the end…you know like an actual reaction from the child! If I sound slightly bitter it’s because last year we ventured to an animal park with the grandparents in tow and she slept the whole way through it. She was awake to see the ducks…and that was it!

I planned the outing like a military excursion. There were two bags. One with extra snacks, pull-ups, clothes etc. I had another to carry with me, just the essentials (or so I thought). I was quite smug at how organised I was. This smugness was not to last. I should have known. Since the poor child’s birth I have been forgetting things; I once went out when she was teeny, tiny and forgot to bring a blanket. I had a whole heap of mama guilt after that outing; how could I forget a blanket?? The poor cold child.

But I digress. The zoo. We booked our tickets online thinking we could beat the queue. However, when we arrived the queue for online tickets was nearly as long as the one for people who hadn’t booked in advance. My smugness took a small hit here I’ll admit. However, I was pleased to note that the zoo was only pleasantly busy. There was room at picnic benches and lots of space to actually see the animals. We stopped for a quick sugar hit – hey you have to have treats on days out then my husband made up a brilliant name for the tiny lady’s buggy; he called it her zoo car. The backstory to this is our lady hates being in her buggy, she wants to walk. But the reality is a toddler is not going to last very long walking around a zoo and we were worried she would tire herself out before seeing anything. So the genius idea of a zoo car was invented. She clambered in and for about an hour all was well.

Then 12 o’clock hit. This is usually her nap-time. Spirits began to flag. She wanted to walk. So we let her out. That’s when I discovered she was soaked through. Her pull-up had leaked (and it never leaks!). I then had to confess I had left all the spare clothes in the other bag…back in the car! My husband ran the ten minute walk to the carpark and back. I stripped her down and got her nice and dry….five minutes later she pooped. Naturally. I was already becoming far too familiar with the changing room (kudos to Dublin Zoo it’s lovely and clean).

This change required two parents because guess what? The tiny lady was beginning to turn into a mini-beast and she refused to lie on the mat. Of course there was another couple next to us quietly and calmly changing a small baby. Meanwhile our little terror screamed and kicked while sweat ran down our faces and we fake laughed at her, ourselves and the whole situation though inside I felt like crying.

We decided lunch was the best thing to do next. After that well…we should have left. But we didn’t. My mama instincts were yelling to get the hell out of there but my husband wanted to show our daughter the giraffes. This involved a ten minute walk with a child who definitely didn’t want her zoo car anymore. It was also becoming hotter and more crowded with every step we took. The final straw was my girl kicking off her shoes then refusing to put them back on while simultaneously trying to walk on the grit laden floor. I grabbed her, signalled to hubbie we were done and literally pushed my way back out of the African Planes. That’s when B**** Ann-Marie took over.

B**** Ann-Marie made her first appearance on one long ago summer when I lived in London with a boyfriend (now ex) for two whole months. I learned quite quickly that in order to survive I would need to toughen up. Getting around on the Tube was a necessity and it absolutely terrified me at first. But after a few weeks I was an old hand at it. So much so that I would look pityingly at the tourists nervously moving their way around on the carriages and clutching their bags ever so tightly. The following year I returned with my mother for a visit. It was as if I had never been away. I think I may have scared my mother slightly with my hardened Londoner edge.

So London Ann-Marie came to the fore as I battled the crowds at London Zoo. I have never been so glad to see an exit sign! We still had one stop to make before we could head home. The shop, ever so cleverly placed next to the exit. A visit to the zoo wouldn’t be complete without a furry animal to take home so a little elephant was bought and promptly named Dumbo.

What a day. I can only imagine how people cope with little tots while on actual vacations. As we were driving away I noticed a couple with their six children (including what looked like toddler twins – yikes). All I could think was they must have better organisational skills than me.

In support of mothers

This week is World Breastfeeding Week. As regular readers will know I didn’t breastfeed my daughter. My reasons were varied and probably only make sense to me. It is something, however, I have often wondered about…after the fact. I wonder if it would have been something I could have come to love and cherish. I don’t regret my decision as I made it after a lot of thought and anguish. I have a lovely bond with my tiny lady. But there is still that sense of curiousity.

Personally I think breastfeeding mamas are awesome. It sounds like a tough gig as you are the sole repository of your child’s nutrional needs. There is also the fact that you feel judged for simply feeding your baby in a restaurant or shop or sitting in the park. Just for feeding your child. This is so crazy in a world where modesty has become less and less of an issue…unless of course you are breastfeeding. Than of course you must cover up! This makes no sense to me. A baby feeding is a much lovelier sight than some of the topless men I’ve been treated to during our last mini heatwave.

The point of having initiatives like World Breastfeeding Week is to attempt to normalise breastfeeding. But I think until we really allow women a choice when it comes to feeding their baby there will always be a battleground when it comes to infant feeding.Women who breastfeed feel judged and women who bottlefeed feel judged and so the battle goes on. We are simply defending our choice and our right to make that choice but it all ends up in a muddle of harsh words and mud slinging.

I am now a toddler mama so the whole debate is beginning to be lost in a haze of new concerns – what age to potty-train etc. But today I just want to applaud those mamas still in the early days. No matter how you choose to feed you rock. And for all you breastfeeding mamas out there don’t let the negativity stop you. If you are out and your baby needs a feed don’t let the small minded opinions of a very small group of people stop you or embarrass you. 

This week I celebrate all you newborn mummies. You are doing great!