Being honest and open is one thing I try to stay true to as a blogger. I write with my heart on my sleeve which is why you have read about the hardships of my pregnancy, the pregnancy scare we had, the tough days we have as Momma and Papa Bear and my recent spiralling descent into the maddening world of anxiety. If you follow me on social media you’ll know that my honesty is not only on the blog but also on my Facebook page, my Instagram and wholeheartedly on twitter which has become my favourite social media platform. A twitter friend named my anxiety and it’s stuck so let’s talk about this Frickin’ Flamingo and how social media has had an effect on it.
A is three years old. Almost four. She’s strong. She’s passionate. She’s opinionated. She knows what she likes. She makes her own choices. There is not a lot we can do to steer her away from what she chooses. Not that we would want to. She makes eclectic choices and amazes us when something obscure becomes her favourite. She is passionate and loyal to what she chooses and does not forget something she once loved. I sometimes wonder why she makes the decisions she does.
When D was born I was obviously in no condition to do any household cleaning, tidying or sprucing up. My recovery was long and tedious and I struggled with even the basic of tasks like pulling myself up to get out of bed. But if you know me, you will know how ridiculously stubborn I am. And how much I yearn for a tidy home. It doesn’t necessarily have to be clean, but I do need tidiness. And while I know that sounds ridiculous to some, it’s simply something my brain has to have, otherwise it won’t shut off and I’ll be agitated until the house is back to my standard. Even through the pain, tiredness and frustration of just having had a baby, I had to tidy and clean. Yes, I gave my orders to B and he obliged as much as he could but still I couldn’t stop myself. I need order amongst chaos. And along came Dyson…
When I started writing Over Heaven’s Hill over a year ago, my aim was to write about how parenthood changed me. Changed my personality, my outlook on life, and my ordinary routines. Over the year, my focus has changed a little and I now write, more freely, about the difficult days, the hardships and the worries we all seem to have when it comes to parenting and how the changes that have occurred in my life are not always welcome. Of course, I write about the good days too, but being honest about how drastic life changes when adding children to the mix is important for me. And hopefully you appreciate my honesty.
Since A was three months old, we’ve read to her. We’ve always been a family of book lovers and when we moved house in 2015, we had more books in boxes than kitchen supplies. A is no different and she hasbooks to choose from every night to read before bed. And every single night, we read at least five books without fail. It’s a tradition I never see us stopping, even when Little Bean comes along who I’m sure will get in on the act quick enough. In fact, she already has a little library of books started of her own. Personally, I believe that reading books from a young age is so important for so many reasons.
I imagine by now most people have come across that C Section text on Facebook or Twitter or wherever you lay your social media hat. Frustrated, angry, shocked and saddened are the many reactions I’ve come across. For those of you who don’t know what the controversy is about, a text message to a soon-to-be mum has been doing the rounds and has infuriated a whole cohort of women. The text, to sum it up, says a C Section is surgery not birth. Of course, like many I have a few things to say about that.
One of my new blogger buds is Sinead who writes a brilliant blog at Shinners and the Brood. Sinead is such a lovely person who started her blog in September 2016. With three little ones, she has plenty to spur her on in this blogging journey. Sinead has taken on my questions and joined me for this weeks In Conversation With. Check out her nuggets of parenting wisdown and remember to check out her blog and follow her on facebook and twitter!
I’m not normally one to complain and I don’t believe I’m privileged or expect anything from anyone, least of all their seat. However, I’ve never been on the other side of the whole seat debate on public transport before and I have to admit, as a pregnant women, I was quite surprised and ultimately disappointed in the reaction and lack of action on the part of my fellow commuters last Tuesday.
One of the questions I asked other parents in the blog series, In Conversation With, last year was what are your hopes and dreams for your children? It’s a question I have tried to answer myself over the years, but it’s a difficult one to truly articulate. Good job, success, happiness, happy relationship, respect, pride? As you probably know by now, Little Bean is growing rapidly and it turns out that she’s a she! We’re delighted to be having another girl, a little sister for A. Raising daughters in this century, however, has never been easy and it doesn’t look like it will get easier any time soon. In light of the new American Presidency, we have to question where has equality disappeared to? Why are women’s rights still not being recognised? In a world where such a man can be elected to one of the highest levels of esteem and power, how can we tell our children, our daughters, that by the time their future is here that they will be treated equally, respected and honoured?
There has been a long running debate in our society about whether it’s acceptable to forgo wearing your wedding ring. Whether it’s one of those traditions that no longer holds the same sense of purpose, or if the importance of what a wedding ring means has lost its initial recognition. There are plenty of men and women who no longer see the necessity of flashing a ring on their wedding finger. But why? Why has it become a thing to not wear a ring after your wedding day? And why does it kill me if my husband ever accidentally, and it always is accidentally, forgets to wear his ring?