327
I love 7pm that’s the magic number. That’s when the wee bairn is tucked up in bed and I can collapse on the sofa watching junk TV. At 5 o’clock I’m thinking brilliant it’s nearly 6 which means I can put her in the bath at half past and then it’s 7…7 …7 …7 how I love 7pm. Hollyoaks I love it. I never used to watch it, but I became addicted when I had to breastfeed the baby for hours. Recently I have got in the habit of getting into my Jim-jams ten minutes after I have put the baby to bed. That means I’m ready for bed at 7.15pm every night reading a book watching junk TV out the corner of my eye (multi-tasking mum). I am reading a book at the moment about how people sabotage their own relationships, about how you can be a passive commitment –phobe. What is that you say? Well apparently it is someone who unconsciously (passively) chooses people to form relationships with who won’t be able to commit. For instance choosing to be with a married man, or falling in love with someone abroad or far away up north that you can’t see regularly. Or still being in love with your ex who has walked all over you and clearly doesn’t want to be with you…. Apparently these are all the classic signs of a passive commitment-phobe, an active commitment-phobe on the other hand actively runs into relationships all guns blazing and then gradually runs in the opposite direction after probably asking them to move in after a week being together. A commitment phobe will make you feel like a million dollars; they are not scared to suggest having a relationship the first night they meet you because they always believe they can run away if they want to. A commitment–phobe will talk about having babies in week 3 of knowing you, they do this (apparently) because they are totally fearless in their pursuit of you. It is only when this active runner feels nice and secure in this love that they actually realistically consider commitment. Have you ever noticed that? They fancy you, pursue you, you finally stop running and turn round and go okay yeah I like you, only for them then to go abit cold? The first rumblings of panic appear when they feel their love is returned and there is some sort of event which might deepen attachment such as visiting the parents, a joint holiday you get the picture, after that they begin paddling backwards but by this point they have asked you to marry them (okay it’s abit crazy after all you’ve only known them a few months but hey love has no limits right?) I’m reading this book, and its all-sounding abit familiar; I like the fact that it doesn’t let me off the hook either. It kinda suggests that I have invited this commitment-phobe into my life because possibly I am scared too; perhaps I have passively been scared of commitment, unconsciously choosing partners that can’t commit. It seems society is kinder to women who are abandoned by their partners than the ones that abandon, much much kinder, there is more support. Hmmm… where’s the remote control? This is all much to much to think about, and Big Brother is about to start. (phew…it was all getting abit deep and involved there…)
Friday, May 11, 2007
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
325
I remember when I was little, about 9 years old, my friend Emily’s mum used to send us to the local shop to buy fags for her. They were the days eh, when little old ladies called Doris ran the off licence, accepting just a note from mum to hand over cigerettes. The note said something like “Hi Maggie here, can you give the girls some Golden Virginia, thanks” Wow that was only 10 years ago, ahem okay 25 years ago, I’m not 19… I guess Doris knew Maggie was too busy as a single mum to walk the 5 minutes to the shop to buy her own baccy and the two 9 yr olds wouldn’t want the tobacco for themselves surely. We didn’t. We hoped Doris would offer us a Milkybar if we looked sweet and unfortunate. These days the shopkeeper wouldn’t probably know Maggie by her name, and the 9 year olds would probably be smoking it themselves or trying to sell the shopkeeper dodgy tobacco brought over from France.
Ahh how times have changed, what will it be like when my baby is older? Will she say things like ‘ooh I remember when I was a girl there were dustbins in the streets… but now in 2035 due to international terrisorism and major advancements in recycling, street dustbins don’t exist!’ Hmmm she probably won’t have too many friends if her topic of conversations are always so fascinating, but what will the world be like in years to come? I expect there will be more interesting things to have changed than dustbins… Though I once asked my grandad what was the best invention he’d experienced growing up from 1918, and guess what he said? Tarmac! He said your clothes used to get filthy before that was laid on the roads. He said you’d just be walking down the road, a horse drawn taxi or some chitty chitty bang bang style car would go past and your new suit would be covered in earthy dust! Very annoying. I can’t imagine being a mum then! Imagine the washing loads! No wonder looking good was such a tell tale sign of wealth in those days. The nuclear family was so important then without washing machines! The mother kept her family clean and in washed clothes ready to go out and get jobs to bring home the bacon, or the Persil… Is it because men can now use automatic washing machines that the nuclear family is beginning to disintergrate? Our washer woman hands are no longer needed?
As a parent I am constantly juggling time. I feel like the day goes so quick but at the same time so long… A friend said to me “life mothering a baby is quite monotous isn’t it?’ and I was “no…” but actually it is, I mean I do the same things repeatidly. Feed/change clothes/change nappy/ …wash clothes/clean kitchen/pick up toys/wash wash wash. Bang head against wall.. I am constantly washing sheets, towels, clothes, my god not mine I stink. It’s like my needs are constantly on the back burner. Feed me? No way I don’t have time to cook me stuff… No wonder Emily’s mum Maggie used to send us down to the shops for tobacco, firstly she probably needed to get rid of us for abit and secondly she probably really needed that ciggie to suppress her appitete. Maybe I should start smoking.
I remember when I was little, about 9 years old, my friend Emily’s mum used to send us to the local shop to buy fags for her. They were the days eh, when little old ladies called Doris ran the off licence, accepting just a note from mum to hand over cigerettes. The note said something like “Hi Maggie here, can you give the girls some Golden Virginia, thanks” Wow that was only 10 years ago, ahem okay 25 years ago, I’m not 19… I guess Doris knew Maggie was too busy as a single mum to walk the 5 minutes to the shop to buy her own baccy and the two 9 yr olds wouldn’t want the tobacco for themselves surely. We didn’t. We hoped Doris would offer us a Milkybar if we looked sweet and unfortunate. These days the shopkeeper wouldn’t probably know Maggie by her name, and the 9 year olds would probably be smoking it themselves or trying to sell the shopkeeper dodgy tobacco brought over from France.
Ahh how times have changed, what will it be like when my baby is older? Will she say things like ‘ooh I remember when I was a girl there were dustbins in the streets… but now in 2035 due to international terrisorism and major advancements in recycling, street dustbins don’t exist!’ Hmmm she probably won’t have too many friends if her topic of conversations are always so fascinating, but what will the world be like in years to come? I expect there will be more interesting things to have changed than dustbins… Though I once asked my grandad what was the best invention he’d experienced growing up from 1918, and guess what he said? Tarmac! He said your clothes used to get filthy before that was laid on the roads. He said you’d just be walking down the road, a horse drawn taxi or some chitty chitty bang bang style car would go past and your new suit would be covered in earthy dust! Very annoying. I can’t imagine being a mum then! Imagine the washing loads! No wonder looking good was such a tell tale sign of wealth in those days. The nuclear family was so important then without washing machines! The mother kept her family clean and in washed clothes ready to go out and get jobs to bring home the bacon, or the Persil… Is it because men can now use automatic washing machines that the nuclear family is beginning to disintergrate? Our washer woman hands are no longer needed?
As a parent I am constantly juggling time. I feel like the day goes so quick but at the same time so long… A friend said to me “life mothering a baby is quite monotous isn’t it?’ and I was “no…” but actually it is, I mean I do the same things repeatidly. Feed/change clothes/change nappy/ …wash clothes/clean kitchen/pick up toys/wash wash wash. Bang head against wall.. I am constantly washing sheets, towels, clothes, my god not mine I stink. It’s like my needs are constantly on the back burner. Feed me? No way I don’t have time to cook me stuff… No wonder Emily’s mum Maggie used to send us down to the shops for tobacco, firstly she probably needed to get rid of us for abit and secondly she probably really needed that ciggie to suppress her appitete. Maybe I should start smoking.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
324
She just wants to eat wires. Its like she knows what are the most dangerous things to do in the flat, and she has some sort of manual she is working from, and is just ticking things off. 1.Scare mum by crawling under her feet as she boils kettle and cooks lunch. 2. Whilst mum isn’t looking, crawl quickly towards mobile phone charger and try to chew on the end of it before mum notices. 3. Climb up onto futon and then head dive off onto laminate flooring using head as a buffer. 4. Pull standing lamp along floor by wire and watch it topple sideways. 5. Put any object, food or otherwise found on floor, into mouth i.e. old bits of grated cheese/blue tack fallen off wall etc….. You get the picture, I hope she has worked through her list and now has another list like THINGS To MAKE MUM HAPPY LIST. 1. Use pincer grip (babies show off using thumb and index finger to grab small objects such as peas at about 7 months) use this newfound skill to help clean the carpet in the living room of food crumbs and fluff. 2. Wear kneepads with Pledge on to dust and shine the floors as I crawl. 3. Use new motor skills to put toilet roll on the holder for her; she never has the energy to actually put it on the holder it just sits next to the toilet roll holder like some sort of statement. I’m not sure what it says, maybe “I’m too run off my feet to do that “ or “”this is way down my list of priorities” When you have a baby, you have to prioritise the workload, washing clothes, and cleaning work surfaces and floors are the top priority. Err and of course maintaining mum’s outer appearance…. showering, make up applying and the essential clothes dressing. Sometimes some of my priorities get a bit mixed up, the washing up doesn’t get done, but my fringe gets blow-dried or eyebrows plucked, but hey as long as I leave the house with clothes on I’m doing well. I actually think I might be getting abit obsessive about the cleaning and tidying, I never used to be, but I now have this thing where I think people are grading me on my ability to be a good mum on how clean and tidy my house is.
The ex’s Nan said to me “he says you keep a nice house” like it was the biggest compliment anyone could ever pay me. It true though especially that for that generation that a clean house meant you were a hard working fantastic mother because it was so much harder to clean the house. They didn’t have Mr Muscle, Hoovers and washing machines. Imagine sweeping the floor constantly with an old broom and washing the bath out with vinegar. That’s some serious elbow grease at work. Maybe they worked out how great a mother you were by how big your triceps and biceps were. I remember my mum used to make us walk on the clothes in the bath to wash them… and then mangle clothes! My dad eventually bought a washing machine since they had been invented by 1976 I think they were just too hippie to want to spend money on machines maaan. But hey at least they had less wires to worry about the children chewing on!
She just wants to eat wires. Its like she knows what are the most dangerous things to do in the flat, and she has some sort of manual she is working from, and is just ticking things off. 1.Scare mum by crawling under her feet as she boils kettle and cooks lunch. 2. Whilst mum isn’t looking, crawl quickly towards mobile phone charger and try to chew on the end of it before mum notices. 3. Climb up onto futon and then head dive off onto laminate flooring using head as a buffer. 4. Pull standing lamp along floor by wire and watch it topple sideways. 5. Put any object, food or otherwise found on floor, into mouth i.e. old bits of grated cheese/blue tack fallen off wall etc….. You get the picture, I hope she has worked through her list and now has another list like THINGS To MAKE MUM HAPPY LIST. 1. Use pincer grip (babies show off using thumb and index finger to grab small objects such as peas at about 7 months) use this newfound skill to help clean the carpet in the living room of food crumbs and fluff. 2. Wear kneepads with Pledge on to dust and shine the floors as I crawl. 3. Use new motor skills to put toilet roll on the holder for her; she never has the energy to actually put it on the holder it just sits next to the toilet roll holder like some sort of statement. I’m not sure what it says, maybe “I’m too run off my feet to do that “ or “”this is way down my list of priorities” When you have a baby, you have to prioritise the workload, washing clothes, and cleaning work surfaces and floors are the top priority. Err and of course maintaining mum’s outer appearance…. showering, make up applying and the essential clothes dressing. Sometimes some of my priorities get a bit mixed up, the washing up doesn’t get done, but my fringe gets blow-dried or eyebrows plucked, but hey as long as I leave the house with clothes on I’m doing well. I actually think I might be getting abit obsessive about the cleaning and tidying, I never used to be, but I now have this thing where I think people are grading me on my ability to be a good mum on how clean and tidy my house is.
The ex’s Nan said to me “he says you keep a nice house” like it was the biggest compliment anyone could ever pay me. It true though especially that for that generation that a clean house meant you were a hard working fantastic mother because it was so much harder to clean the house. They didn’t have Mr Muscle, Hoovers and washing machines. Imagine sweeping the floor constantly with an old broom and washing the bath out with vinegar. That’s some serious elbow grease at work. Maybe they worked out how great a mother you were by how big your triceps and biceps were. I remember my mum used to make us walk on the clothes in the bath to wash them… and then mangle clothes! My dad eventually bought a washing machine since they had been invented by 1976 I think they were just too hippie to want to spend money on machines maaan. But hey at least they had less wires to worry about the children chewing on!
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