NotSheep

Jack isn’t allowed to play out at the front of our house without someone watching him, and I always make sure one of the others knows he has full responsibility, because if two or more share it, they all think someone else will do it. That goes for everything, not just watching Jack. But anyway.

Today Freddy volunteered. A minute later Jack came through the house to get some sidewalk chalk. No problem.

A minute after Jack went back out the front, Freddy came in. “Where’s your brother?!” we exclaimed. Freddy turned to go back out the front, saying “well I drew a chalk line on the driveway to keep him in…”

Right. Because everyone knows that four-year-olds are not physically capable of stepping over a chalk-line on the ground. What could we have been thinking?

I think the following two comments, made over the last 24 hours, sum up much of my life right now:

To Scratchy, when we were about to start dinner and various children were whining about geting the “wrong” colour cup, and Scratchy had just knocked a large cup of orange juice all over the table, chair and floor whilst trying to pour someone else’s drink: “Would this be a bad time to say I think I want another baby?”

To anyone under the age of 12 who was listening today: “Go and play outside now - and if you’re really lucky, we won’t lock the door behind you.”

There are lots of very good answers to the “socialisation” question - the one that comes from people who assume that kids can only learn social skills by attending schools. But here’s yet another answer to add to the list: it turns out that schools don’t do such a great job on teaching social skills anyway. Who knew?

EducationGuardian.co.uk | Schools special reports | Call for schools to teach social skills

Children in one of the most deprived areas of Britain who can barely talk in sentences or read by secondary school desperately need to be taught basic social skills, Nottingham MP Graham Allen will tell a Westminster debate today.

I used to think that post-it notes were one of the greatest things ever. That was before I had children.

Now I think that the person who invented post-it notes must not have had children. Either that or they didn’t mind their kids’ bedroom looking like it had been in the path of a yellow blizzard.

It’s been a quiet week around these parts, activity-wise if not volume-wise. On Monday everybody was grumpy or moany or something-that-drove-me-nutsy, so when Scratchy proclaimed “Right! That’s it! I’m not taking anybody to ju-jitsu!”, I stood behind him and nodded. Actually what I wanted to do was go nah-nah-nah-nah-told-ya-so, but I resisted.

Yesterday was no better, and when nobody was even close to having eaten dinner and being ready to leave at 6.10 p.m., the decision was taken that Beavers (which starts at 6.30 p.m.) and SJA Badgers (also starting at 6.30 p.m.) and SJA Cadets (which doesn’t start until 7.30 p.m., but in the interests of fairness…) were not happening. Jack did go to Monkeynastix again though, because it was earlier in the day, and he joined in with most stuff and had a good time, so it looks like we’ll stick with that for now. Scratchy took him, as Toby’s been a bit ill this week - feverish at nights and just not his usual cheery self during the day - and I didn’t want to leave him. I’ve mostly spent the last two days cuddling and feeding him, and he seems a lot better.

George is off at Cubs now, and Barney will be leaving for Scouts in the next few minutes. I’m so glad I don’t have to do all the taxi-ing myself. It’s not that I mind driving - it’s the thought of getting all the other kids in and out of the car constantly.

I did get out on my own for an hour this afternoon though - and despite having had all day to think of reasons not to, I went to the gym. Went on the treadmill and the rowing machine and some of the weights-machines. Of course I was in the shower when I realised I hadn’t brought a hairbrush. Still, that’s better than Saturday, when the forgotten item (there’s always one) was a clean shirt, so I’d the choice of stinky-shirt or no-shirt. (I went with the former, in case there’s any doubt. I don’t mind breastfeeding in public, but even I have my limits LOL)

I’ve been on my exercise bike regularly too. If I’m not ten pounds lighter by tomorrow morning, I’ll want to know why

…without breaking some eggs. Or so they say. Whoever “they” are, Jack obviously believes them, because this evening he broke fourteen eggs. That’s fourteen, out of fifteen that I bought today. He was “helping”. Hm. Guess it’s omelette for brunch tomorrow. Or, more likely, French toast.

We visited the library today and the kids all borrowed more books. Barney and George borrowed some Star Wars books, because they’d been talking about it with Scratchy. They couldn’t have been talking about it with me, because on the three occasions I’ve tried to watch it, I’ve fallen asleep within the first ten minutes. We got Jack a library card, because all the spots on the other library cards were full I think it would really be better if they just issued “family cards”, because our books are always all mixed up on the various cards anyway. And it would save me from carrying around all those cards. Anyway, now we’re a five-library-card family, so we can borrow up to 45 books at a time. Because what this house really needs is more books, to add to the thousands already here. Heaven help us.

After the library we did our regular check on the local charity shops. I bought a skirt for me - hey, me wearing a skirt could happen! - and tried to buy a sewing-machine, but then one of the staff remembered that they weren’t allowed to sell electrical goods. So I suggested that they could “donate” it to me, and I could make a “donation” to them - two entirely separate transactions, of course. Since they couldn’t sell it, they also couldn’t offer me any assurances that it would work, so in the end she said to take it home and, if it worked, to come back with a donation

Haven’t tried it out yet, but will get to it. If it works, I’ll have got myself a fine sewing machine for a fiver, and if it doesn’t, well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Bought some groceries and was told by an old man in the shop that my children were lovely and fabulous etc… sometimes you just warm to people, y’know? Then he went and told the cashier (who he knows as “Brenda” ) that we were a lovely family and she was to be nice to us. Then he came back and told us he’d told her that. And when we got to the paying-for-it bit, he was still about and pointed us out to her, just in case she didn’t realise who we were He was really sweet though, and even thanked me for talking to him, which made me a little bit sad to think that a lot of people probably don’t

Fed the boys a snack and headed for the swimming pool, where we splashed about a bit, and then I sat on a seat a few feet from the pool with Toby and fed him under a towel - partly because swimming costume requires yanking down rather than pulling up to feed, and partly because he’d been in the water so I wanted him warmed up. After a few minutes, one of the life-guards approached and told me that I couldn’t breastfeed there. Hm, I say, interesting. By that time he wasn’t actually nursing any more, as he’d fallen asleep. Anyway. A little bit later she came over and apologised and said that she had no problem with it but that someone had complained so she’d had to say something. I said that it would probably be good for the leisure centre to have a written policy, and asked for the manager’s name. I felt sorry for the life-guard - she was clearly totally embarrassed about the whole thing. I reassured her that it wasn’t her fault and promised not to push her into the pool

When we went into the changing room, a mother whose kids had been in a private lesson commented on Toby, and I mentioned that I’d just been told not to breastfeed in the pool area. She was stunned and immediately started saying “That’s insane! How stupid is that! I can’t believe it!” - etc. She said she’d fed her children until they were two, and she’d fed them everywhere, and she thought that not allowing a mother to breastfeed by the pool was completely unjustifiable. At that point the swimming instructor - who also happens to be the teacher of the class my older three are in - came in with this woman’s children, and the woman told her, and she went off on one about how stupid it was. Since she’d actually been in the pool at the time, she was saying “and there wasn’t even anything to see, for goodness sake! - you’d a towel wrapped around you!” I said that there might possibly have been a very brief glimpse of flesh as I latched him on, if anyone had been really trying to see - and she said, very forcefully, “No! There wasn’t! There was nothing to see! And anyway, why would anyone be looking?!” So - nice to feel that I at least had some support. I said I’d probably write to the centre manager and suggest a meeting to work out a policy on breastfeeding in the centre.

I got Jack and Toby dressed - the others were in the male changing room - and went into the hall, to find the other mum standing waiting to tell me she’d been “so incensed” that she went and “demanded to speak to the manager” so she could tell him how angry she was Apparently he made noises about “trying to keep everyone happy”, but at least he didn’t try to claim it was anything to do with health and safety or something stupid like that. I thought afterwards, when I was telling Scratchy about it, that I should have suggested that if the staff could actually see any food I’d gladly remove it from the premises

I will contact the manager, and at least now I know that I won’t come across as some one-woman-mad-thing. The other mum gave me her name and said she was very happy to support any move to get a pro-breastfeeding policy in place. Funny how an experience can start off negative and yet leave you feeling warm and fuzzy, isn’t it?

Barney, George and Freddy had soccer school after that; thank goodness the rain from yesterday didn’t continue, as the field would have been a disaster. Oh, uh, just remembered it’s astroturf. Never mind We got home just a few minutes before our grocery delivery (I never feel it’s worth bothering ordering on-line, but I do like it when they deliver for free! :-D) - this was the point at which Jack’s “help” was so… er… “helpful” - and Scratchy cooked while George, Freddy and Jack cleaned out the car and I vacuumed it. I might be a stay-at-home-mum and all, but traditional roles don’t carry much weight here After dinner Scratchy and Barney went off to basketball.

Shock of the day was when George declined to have more chips and said Freddy could have them. George does like his chips! Slightly lesser shock when he changed his mind a minute later and Freddy cheerfully gave him the rest of the chips: “You can have these, because I’ve already had some.” See? My children can be lovely - the old man in the grocery store was right

And there goes another week. Just the weekend to cope with now!

Or, “how long can a bumblebee live in a toilet?”

That is the question

Large bumblebee discovered in pile of laundry which had previously been hanging outside. Nearest receptacle for said bumblebee: toilet. Approximately one hour later, bee is still floating and moving in the water, despite attempts to flush. Yes, that’s right: this bumblebee was swimming

We think it’s gone now. I’m still using the kids’ bathroom tonight though. I’ve seen the X-Files and I’m taking no chances

Apart from bumblebee excitement, today has included:

rummaging through books at the library booksale. I brought two large boxes of books home, mostly non-fiction but a bit of Philip Pullman included. Three very large books which, purchased new, would each have cost more than I paid for the whole lot. Quite a pile of books about ancient civilisations, several about Einstein and his work (an interest of Barney’s), a couple about spies and spy history and spying equipment (something the older three are all interested in) and a few more besides. Not a bad haul. So we’ll just add those to the thousands of books we already had and the 45 library books, ‘k?

I could probably have found more, but the room was hot and airless and there were too many people and the Grumpy Old Man was waiting outside in the car and making faces about having to go back to the bank machine to get more cash out.

Barney spent most of the afternoon engrossed in books (surprise surprise). The others played in and out of the house. One of the little girls from down the street came in and started asking about the aquarium because they’ve just set one up in her house (water but no fish yet). I fixed the comments on my blog (I hope! - please let me know if I’m wrong!) and fixed a wonky feed link on someone else’s (again, I hope). Do people still say “wonky”? I just realised I haven’t heard that in ages. All meals today eaten in the conservatory, some with windows and both doors open - I do like warm sunny weather

Freddy’s birthday is in just over a week; he had expressed a wish to have a party at an indoors adventure playground place, but I explained that the cost of that would severely limit the number of invitees, so he went outside to “see how big the house is” and then came back in saying “Here. I’ll have it here.” So I suppose I’d better get on with inviting people. If you’re reading this and you’re local enough, come over next Sunday

Forgot to blog my favourite line from yesterday. The three older boys were told to wait for me before getting into the swimming pool, but when I came out of the changing-rooms, they were all exploring the shallow bit. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me before you got in the water?” I say. “Well,” says George, “we didn’t really go in, we just put our heads under the water.” Oh. That’s all right then…

I’m just testing to see if my comments close automatically or if it was me that somehow managed to do that on my last post (I’ve opened them now).

Edit: It appears to have been something I did last night. It would appear that 9.25 p.m. is past my brain’s bedtime

Eight bottles of blood. One chest x-ray. An appointment for an ECG. An appointment for a sweat-test. A referral to the cardiology department. A referral to a dietitian. A referral to a paediatrician who will monitor Toby in the local clinic every few weeks.

That’s how it went at the hospital today.

Toby is very, very light. We knew that. He shows no other signs of any health problem. We knew that too.

The paediatrician was okay, on the whole. He seemed offended that we were not “in the system” (”So who do you want me to write to?”) but somehow coped. He did tell us that he believed it was legally required to register a child with a GP, but at least his clinical skills seemed better than his legal expertise.

He ordered lots of tests.

I said I wanted Toby to have the anaesthetising cream before they took blood, so he didn’t feel the needle. He was fascinated by the wrinkly plastic stuff they’d stuck to his hand and feet though. I tried to nurse him to sleep before they took the blood, but he was far too curious about what they were doing to his foot. He wasn’t bothered; just interested. It was me who cried while they did it.

The other boys went to my friend S’s house while we went to the hospital - thank you, S, for looking after them for us - and sorry we made you answer the door dressed in a towel with conditioner in your hair and a carton of apple-juice in your hand. (Don’t ask me about the apple-juice; I don’t know.) After the hospital, I went shopping (mostly for Freddy’s birthday party this weekend) while Scratchy went back for the boys. Then Toby, Jack, Freddy and I went to my friend J’s house while Scratchy took the others to archery.

On the way home this evening, Barney asked how it had gone at the hospital. I told him that Toby was very underweight, and that they wanted to do lots of tests. Barney, blinking back tears, said, “I don’t want them to take blood from him.”

I know just how he felt.

The paediatrician said he’d phone if there was anything abnormal on the blood tests or the chest x-ray. We have an appointment for the ECG and sweat-test. We’ll get appointments for all the rest of it through the post.

Maybe there’s a problem, and I will feel like crap for not taking him to a doctor sooner. Or maybe this is just how he’s meant to be, and I will feel like crap for putting him through all this for nothing.

Either way, I feel like crap.

This is scary

The day started when George came storming into my room and said, “I’m simply livid with Freddy!”

The morning was one of those invisible ones - you know the ones that manage to pass by without you noticing? After lunch we walked to the leisure centre (which isn’t quite as far as walking into town but is still a fair old trek) and Barney and George went swimming. George’s pool time was cut short when he had a meltdown though *sigh*. One of the staff came out to the entrance hall where I was sitting, and asked if he was mine… George was putting water in his mouth and spitting it out, the lifeguard asked him to stop, George took his locker-key (on a safety-pin) and threatened to poke the lifeguard, the lifeguard told him to get out of the pool, and George stood in front of the lifeguard with his fingers in his ears and making faces at him. Never a dull moment.

I went and got George and his clothing and he waited with the rest of us until it was time for soccer. He and Freddy are in the same class at 4 p.m., then Barney goes from 4.45 until 5.30 p.m. Scratchy met us just as the first class was starting and we came home for five minutes before realising why I had to go back when he went to take Freddy and Jack swimming - because George would have finished soccer, of course. Some days I think it would be nice to have a brain; other days I think it would just be one more thing to remember to take with me.

So… back to leisure centre, and George and Toby and I hung out while the others did their swimming/soccer. He’d calmed down a lot, and we had a chat about what the lifeguard must be thinking of him. He agreed that apologies were in order, but was a bit hesitant about speaking to the lifeguard (and we didn’t know if he was still there anyway), so he decided to draw him a picture and write a note of apology. And he has, so that will be left at the leisure centre tomorrow.

Home for dinner and the intention was for all the boys to have an early night - it’s been a very active day and there’s an early start tomorrow with swimming - but Scratchy went off to basketball and I was trapped on the bed nursing Toby, and I can still hear the others chatting away - so not so much of the early then…

…by changing my blog’s colour-scheme to look more Spring-like.

*looks hopeful*

Bah, it’s still raining.

Maybe I need to give it more time?

This evening’s blogpost, that is.

I found the image thingy to the right on Sarah’s and Jax’s blogs, and did it despite not really seeing the point - though to be more true-to-life it would need to be fatter and accessorised with a babe-in-arms. I did equip the image with a laptop computer, but it was all wrong - the wrong colour, too big and (most importantly) closed

And thanks to Sue for the quiz below, which is probably more accurate than the image above

You Are 11% Vain

You don’t have a vain bone in your body - almost as a matter of principal. You demand to be judged on who you are, not what you look like.

Yesterday was one of those days when you keep going and going and then at the end of it you look back and try to figure out what on earth you did all day.

I know I wasted an hour in the morning trying to deal with a government department who wouldn’t talk to me on the phone because I’d “failed our security check” - the information I’d given to prove I was who I claimed to be didn’t match the information on their system. After several more phone-calls, it turned out that they were using an old address for me. A very old address. Three addresses before this one, to be exact Apparently someone changed the file to show that very old address, on August 23rd last year. Which is even more unfathomable when you know that the same department wrote to me at this address on August 26th

I discovered that Freddy has an adult tooth. It hasn’t pushed out the milk-tooth yet - it’s growing in behind it - though the small one is certainly wobbly. Freddy hadn’t noticed either the wobbliness or the new tooth. The new one does seem very far back, so I phoned the dentist to ask if we should be concerned. I haven’t heard back from her yet though.

Barney, George and Freddy went to archery with Scratchy and Jack and I stayed home and fell asleep.

Today was all go! First I went shopping - looking for a small washbag that George could take to cub-camp, and failing to find one. I also didn’t find a wind-up flashlight for him, so he’ll have to do with a battery-operated one and the last two batteries I could find. After that we headed to S’s house, and hung out there for a couple of hours (much of which seemed to be spent providing food for children :-D), though we also borrowed her bicycle-trailer, so that I can try it out and see whether Toby classifies it as a stroller (okay, as long as we’re outside and we don’t stop moving) or a car-seat (not okay. Ever.) If he likes it (or at least tolerates it), we might buy one ourselves.

Back to local for Barney and George to go swimming, after which George and Freddy went to soccer. Scratchy met us, and once the first soccer session was over, he took Freddy and Jack into the pool. Barney went to his soccer session, and I took George to meet with his Cub Scout pack, for his first ever Cub Camp. He was looking forward to it, though when I left he seemed to be feeling a bit down - which might have been nervousness, as that would probably be how he’d show it. It’s only for one night, and they’re actually staying in a school rather than tents, but I’m still doing the anxious-mum bit. I was in two minds about sending him - I’m not sure how he’s going to handle it, and if he goes into meltdown mode, I don’t know how well the leaders will handle that (which isn’t a suggestion that they’re less than competent - they’re excellent - it’s just that you have to be able to tune into George to bring him through a meltdown, and I’m usually the only one who can do that). In the end, I decided to let him go for two reasons - one, that I didn’t want to prevent him from the fun and friendship of it, and two, the “real” Cub Camp (two nights, tents) happens two weekends from now, and this might give us all some idea of how George will cope with that.

He went in his sweatpants because when we got to the Scout Hall and he changed into his Cubs uniform, he complained that his trousers wouldn’t stay up. This was due to them being Barney’s Scout trousers

So only four children here tonight. Funny how empty the place seems!

An earful of oil, that is. Garlic-infused oil. I am typing this whilst lying sideways on my bed, because I have garlic-infused oil in my ear. On Thursday night I had some stabbing pains in my ear before I fell asleep, and they continued all day yesterday. I ended up taking some painkillers last night (which will give anyone who knows me an idea how painful it was - I almost never do that), and this morning June suggested the garlic-oil thing. It feels very weird going in, but the pain does seem to have eased a bit. And the good ear is against a pillow, so I can’t hear a thing. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing I will give it a bit longer to do its job, then I’ll get up and see if it runs out again or what happens.

Barney and Freddy had swimming lessons this morning, and Barney went to Fit Kids afterwards, then went swimming again. A couple of weeks ago an unfamiliar child showed up at our door, asking if he could retrieve his ball; he’d been visiting the house at the back of ours. He came through to get the ball, and recognised Barney from Fit Kids, so they introduced themselves to one another properly. This morning he and Barney and another boy hung out together in the fitness suite and in the pool; it sounds like Barney had a good time. Scratchy had arranged to collect him at 11.30, but by the time Barney got out of the pool and got dressed and home, it was nearly 1 p.m. - and the leisure centre is only five minutes away!

We’ve not had any calls from Cub Camp, so I assume George is doing okay. I do miss him - even though he has swimming and trampoline on Saturday mornings, so I’d only have seen him before bed last night and for an hour or so today anyway! How on earth am I going to cope when they all grow up and leave home?

Going to spend this afternoon trying to write a webpage I promised someone, and playing with Linux.

I was just getting ready to go meet George off the bus from Cub Camp when I got a phone-call to tell me the bus hadn’t shown up to collect them! It’s on its way to them now, apparently - but they won’t be back until about 7 p.m. I’ve been counting the minutes until pick-up time all afternoon!

This is a week old, but I’m just getting a chance to write about it now:

Children “should sleep with parents until they’re five” - Sunday Times - Times Online

ONE of Britain’s leading experts on children’s mental health has advised parents to reject years of convention and allow children to sleep in bed with them until the age of five.

Margot Sunderland, director of education at the Centre for Child Mental Health in London, says the practice, known as ‘co-sleeping’, makes children more likely to grow up as calm, healthy adults.

Sunderland, author of 20 books, outlines her advice in The Science of Parenting, to be published later this month.

She is so sure of the findings in the new book, based on 800 scientific studies, that she is calling for health visitors to be issued with fact sheets to educate parents about co-sleeping.

“These studies should be widely disseminated to parents,” said Sunderland. “I am sympathetic to parenting gurus - why should they know the science? Ninety per cent of it is so new they bloody well need to know it now. There is absolutely no study saying it is good to let your child cry.”

I love that last line, but what I wanted to say about this - apart from nya nya nya told ya so - is that I didn’t need “800 scientific studies” or a “leading expert” to tell me that physical contact between mums and babies was good for them. I already knew. Maybe I’ve known it my whole life, but certainly I knew it when I became a mother. I just had to learn to listen to what I knew.

When Barney was a baby, I wondered why he wasn’t sleeping through the night when all the other babies his age seemed to be - at least, that’s how it seemed. So I went off to the library in search of help. The only book about babies and sleep that I had ever heard of was Solve Your Child’s Sleep Problems (Ferber), so I looked that up in the card catalogue (see how old I am? ;-)) and went to find it on the shelf. There were a couple of other babies’n’sleep books on the shelf too, and I borrowed all that was available.

I read Ferber, and it made no sense. The whole argument that a baby will be confused and upset if he wakes in a situation different to that in which he fell asleep - that was nonsense, as far as I could see. Babies fall asleep and wake up in different places all the time - they fall asleep in the car (well, some of them do - Toby doesn’t!) and wake up at home, they fall asleep in one person’s arms and wake up in another, etc. I just didn’t buy Ferber’s reasoning, and much of what he wrote felt harsh. His advice to essentially ignore a child who’d cried until he threw up horrified me. But more than that - it just didn’t feel right to ignore my child’s cries. It made my head hurt, it made my gut feel scrunched up, it made my heart pound, it made me feel terrible.

Now I know why a baby’s cries make his parents feel so awful - they’re supposed to. The whole point of a baby’s cries is to get a parent’s attention and presence - the baby relies on those things for his life. Now I wonder how we can expect our older children and teenagers to talk to us, if we spent the first few months/years sending them the message that we weren’t going to listen anyway, even when they’re trying to express their most basic needs.

(Ferber later - a lot later - said that his methods were only ever intended for babies who had been diagnosed with genuine and severe sleep problems, not for babies who just didn’t sleep as easily as their parents might like them to. And he said he wished he’d never written that co-sleeping was “not a good idea”, because he no longer believed it.)

But I digress (heh, there’s a surprise). One of the other books I picked up at the library that day was Three In A Bed by Deborah Jackson. I read it after reading Ferber, and my reaction to it was very different. I said “yes, of course!”, I nodded, I thought “that makes sense”… and it changed what I thought about co-sleeping.

That night, instead of guiltily bringing Barney into my bed as a last resort, I picked him up as soon as he woke, cuddled him beside me, and nursed us both to sleep. I no longer had the goal of getting him back into his own bed as soon as possible - or even the goal of getting him to sleep longer, because there was no need for me to be more than semi-awake while he nursed so I could put him back to his cot.

And for the first time, he slept six hours straight - though it wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t, because that wasn’t the purpose of doing it.

When George came along, intense child that he was (and is), he absolutely could not sleep anywhere except my arms or my bed. If he’d been my first baby, I’d have been convinced that I was doing something wrong. Barney hadn’t been “a good sleeper” as a baby, but George took it to a whole different level. He was over a year old before he ever slept for more than two hours at a stretch. I’d have lost my mind if we hadn’t been co-sleeping.

By the time Freddy came along, the notion of putting him anywhere other than our bed never even entered our minds.

Now I know there are some babies/children who are easy to sleep beside and some who aren’t. I know some thrash and kick etc. I think that can be worked around - a three-sided cot by the bed, for example, can give everyone the space they need and prevent bruises and broken noses. I know that some parents feel very nervous about co-sleeping - but I think that’s a product of our culture rather than an instinctive fear. In cultures in which it is the norm for babies and mothers to sleep together, nobody seems to worry about the safety of it. And I know that some parents fear that their child will never leave their bed. To them I say this: Don’t worry. Your baby will choose to sleep in his own room before he starts trying to sneak his girlfriend into the house. I promise

The article I’ve quoted doesn’t address whether co-sleeping is good for parents, other than mentioning the maternal exhaustion that can be the product of having to get up frequently to see to the baby - though the book might talk about it, I don’t know. But when I look down at my sleeping or nursing baby, snuggled up beside me, I feel a surge of “this is right” - not just for him, but for me. This is where my body wants my baby. This is where it needs my baby.

I recently heard someone say that there is no such thing as “a baby”. There is always “a baby and someone”. A baby is always part of a relationship, dependent on another person, not quite an individual entity. That makes sense to me, and fits well with what we know about human babies being born so much more dependent on their mothers than the young of just about every other animal. Our babies are programmed to want to be close to us, and we are programmed to want to be close to them.

The point of all this (see, there’s a point ;-)) is that my instincts said “respond to your baby’s cries” and “sleep with your baby”, and I’ve never regretted following them. We seem to have gone through a few decades during which parents were expected to ignore both their instincts and their babies. I’m glad that articles like the one quoted above are starting to appear in the mainstream media, that “experts” are starting to give their stamp of approval to co-sleeping. I just wish it wasn’t needed.

When I read the quiz-thingy below and saved-it-for-later a couple of days ago, I thought it was probably about right. After today, I’m not so sure. Today I have five children, none of whom wants to cooperate in even a minor way, two of whom are sleep-deprived as a result of staying up chattering half the night (and in the case of one of them, starting off sleep-deprived after Cub Camp anyway), and all of whom seem capable and willing to trash the house, given any opportunity^* to do so.

*Any opportunity = the time during which mother is using the bathroom (for any purpose), answering the door, on the phone, or otherwise engaged.

What’s your motherstyle (on a good day)?

Your type is: infp: The ‘Tuned In’ Mother “Inside our children, I believe, is a truth that tells them what’s best for them. I am always listening for that truth.” * Aware, astute, and understanding, the INFP mother is sensitive to her child’s needs, feelings, and perceptions. By observing and listening to the cues of the whole child, she is ‘tuned in’ and naturally develops an intuitive feel for what he or she needs. Responsive and helpful as well, she tends patiently to those needs as they arise. * The INFP mother is comfortable letting her children follow their own course of development and make their own choices. She offers encouragement and uses her insights to head off trouble and difficult issues. * The INFP mother takes vicarious pleasure giving her children good experiences and watching them enjoy childhood. She’s happiest creating pleasant, memorable times for the whole family.

This would probably all be much closer to the truth if I wasn’t sleep-deprived myself. The shooting pains in my ear keep me awake. The lack of sleep gives me a headache. The headache makes me clench my jaw more than ever. Clenching my jaw makes the shooting pains worse. And so it goes.

On the up-side, I spoke to the hospital paed today. He phoned because wanted me to take Toby in to be weighed tomorrow. This would involve Scratchy taking time off work, driving through traffic with a probably-crying baby and four other children for an hour, waiting in a line of cars for between 20 and 40 minutes as one car was admitted to the car-park each time one car left, keeping all children entertained whilst waiting for a staff member to be available for one-point-three minutes, then driving everyone home again…and so is not going to happen. I’ll see if I can get him weighed somewhere locally instead. To get back to the point (and the previously-mentioned up-side), however, all the tests that have so far been done have shown absolutely normal results. While this leaves us no further along in working out why he’s so small, it’s still reassuring. I think.

Cubs and Scouts for George and Barney this evening - George came home with a certificate for having got through the District Challenge last weekend, and a note about a sports event on Friday night. Nice to get lots of notice of these things. Looks like I get to do my being-in-two-different-towns-at-one-time act again on Friday then.

Now here’s a quiz I like

You Are Cookie Monster

Misunderstood as a primal monster, you’re a true hedonist with a huge sweet tooth. You are usually feeling: Hungry. Cookies are preferred, but you’ll eat anything if cookies aren’t around. You are famous for: Your slightly crazy eyes and usual way of speaking How you life your life: In the moment. “Me want COOKIE!”

The older boys did lots of studying today - Latin, French, history, maths, geography… I’ve probably forgotten something too. Freddy had a weird ten-minute period this morning when he suddenly starting burping, and when I looked at him he’d gone grey, even his lips. He felt sick and had a clammy feel for a few minutes, but seemed to recover quickly after a few minutes lying down with a blanket tucked around him.

Barney and I went out to the garden after lunch and I showed him how to use the lawnmower. He did the front lawn, but hasn’t quite acquired any tecnique yet, so it’s still fairly difficult for him, and he decided to give the back a miss for a bit. I don’t mind leaving it a little longer, as it’s covered in daisies right now and looks very pretty

I got a new mobile phone (I do like those 100% cashback offers!) which has a decent-for-a-phone camera on it (2mp for those who care about these things), so I’ll be playing with that this weekend

Toby has discovered he can use his voice to squawk, and has been doing that all day - he’s getting very vocal, and very clearly “talks” to us now

Right. Time for a cup of tea, I think, and, uh, maybe some cookies

Toby has a runny nose and a rattly-in-his-throat cough, and all night long every time he nursed, he’d start coughing a minute or so later - which made for a very disturbed night. I was so tired this morning that I thought we’d better get stuck in as soon as possible, before I fell over. So I started the boys doing some bookwork right after breakfast - and as with yesterday, they did masses of it. We covered history, geography, Latin, French, maths, science, and lots and lots of writing. Barney and George blogged, and I had to laugh when I saw what George wrote. Talking about the bruise he got from the accident at Cub Camp a week ago: “I’ve got a big bruise on my chin - wanna see it?”, then he’s inserted a photo of it, followed by the words, “Nice, isn’t it?” I guess black-and-blue is the new black Then he’s put in a photo of a picture Freddy drew, and afterwards typed, “Odd but great.”

Since we all left the house so tidy yesterday, someone took it upon themselves today to sprinkle blender-ised porridge oats (intended for use in the bath) over the living-room floor After cleaning that up and discovering jigsaw-puzzle pieces and bits of Harry Potter Trivial Pursuit mixed in with all the other masses of stuff on George and Freddy’s bedroom floor, I decided I wasn’t leaving it any longer. I think it probably took about an hour-and-a-half to clean it up - but I don’t expect it will stay tidy for much longer than that…

Scratchy has just blown a fuse - the electrical kind, not the kind I blew when I found the porridge oats today - so I’m hoping he gets the power back on before my laptop battery dies and I lose this post