More than a teacher

I had to speak to Martina's mother the other day regarding her recent behaviour deterioration at Nursery.  She is starting to behave in a very, for want of a better phrase, attention seeking manner - pushing the other children, occassionally hitting them, complaining frequently that they are hurting her (on one occasion, she said that a little boy had hit her - impossible, he was sitting with me at the time) and most upsetting for me, destroying her own work.  Her mum is expecting another baby in May, and Martina is apparently being equally attention seeking at home, demanding that Mum does all her bedtimes, reads to her constantly, cuddles her, carries her, feeds her, everything.  She is also starting to "act up" a bit in public, something she's never done before. 

I wanted to talk with Mum to let her know what is happening at Nursery and to discuss her behaviour generally, and whether there was anything that we could do to help with her behaviour at home.  We all acknowledge that this is a difficult time for her, and we all need to show her that she is loved and valued despite the new baby coming.  I talked to Mum about the ways I had handled the transition from only child to sibling and tried to reassure her that this phase would pass.  It is very difficult for us to explain these concepts to Martina; not only is she three, and therefore only just becoming able to understand that Mum will still be the same when the baby comes, but she is also Polish, with a fairly limited understanding of English.

As examples of good practise, we will all monitor Martina's behaviour and help her make good choices at home and at Nursery.  At Nursery, we will be on hand to make Martina feel special and loved when the baby arrives - hopefully we can provide some familiarity and normality for her - her world is about to be completely turned upside.

I don't think this is really in my remit, but I think it's important for everyone concerned.  All names changed.  Obviously.

Not quite in the right spirit

I go to church most weekends.  Sometimes, if I can tie it in with childcare, I like to go in the week, but that's not really been happening much since Hattie stopped reliably sleeping for half an hour at ten.  While I have terrible problems with the hierarchy, the way the message has been corrupted over the past 2000 years, the way the Church has historically treated its members, St Paul and other minor characters, I am basically a Church of England supporter, a Christian and a fully paid up member of our local religious community.  I am not interested in being told that I am wrong about this; I will not force my views on you, please don't tell me I'm an idiot for believing in God and Jesus and the resurrection and the life of the world to come.  I also don't think that church is only about after you're dead, I am doing my bit to make things better on this side of the grave too.  I am as heavily involved with the homeless shelter that is run out of the Church Hall on a Monday night as I can be (I do a bit of washing and I cook the occasional meal) and I teach Junior Church.

Ah.  Junior Church.  Why do something with a modicum of professionalism and efficiency when you can get a whole bunch of people involved and run it by committee?  I am a teacher, I may have mentioned this before, and I have a professional attitude towards my little class; I turn up late with a massive hangover, two screaming kids and no resources.  This has only happened once, and I am never, ever going out on a Saturday when I have to teach on a Sunday again in my life ever.  That minor aberration aside, I do try to plan something that is relevant to the children, loosely based on the text, and interactive and fun. 

This morning, as I sat in the car on our, late again, way to church, Simon asked me whether I wanted to take the girls to creche, or stay in church and sleep listen to the sermon.  I opted to stay in church, on the grounds that someone would try to get me involved with this week's Junior Church lesson if I showed up there.  We hadn't been there 5 minutes when one of the leaders asked me to fill in as someone wasn't there.  To cut a long and increasingly dull story short, I ended up teaching on no notice, with no materials and no real knowledge.  The woman I was covering for had printed out the wrong week's work and had prepared completely inappropriate resources, so I basically busked for 45 minutes and then put up a display. 

I was a bit cross about this, but being the consummate professional, just got on with it.  After the service, I was chatting to Angela when along marched Colonel Mike, husband of the woman I stood in for, who proceeded to be a total regimental tit for about five minutes.  Fortunately Hattie can be relied on to be sick after three biscuits, so I was able to dash off while he was hauling Angela over the coals for not running Junior Church the way it would be run in the Army.  My slapping hand was itching so hard, but I know it's not the done thing in church.  I so desperately wanted to tell him that we are not subalterns on a charge, so he should just shut up and listen to us when we explain why things aren't run the way he thinks they should be.  Honestly.  We have a get together next week, and I really hope he and his wife aren't there; I am annoyed by her letting me down - I know your son is unwell, but in your position, I would leave Daddy at home with the ill one, and take the well one to Church so I could fulfil my commitment. 

Nothing says "lovely little Christian community" like a strong desire to punch someone in the nose.

12 12s in 2012

Because I love Americans and their self imposed rules, here are my New Year's Resolutions, which are mostly to do with knitting and cooking.  Of course.

12 unread books read (easy peasy, I have about 50 on my shelves at the moment)
12 babygros made (sewn) (easy, lucky Amanda)
12 meals from Nigella's Kitchen book  (easy)
12 pounds lost (see above) (hmm)
12 jumpers knitted (baby, adult, child) (hmm)
12 knitted things for Lucy (not the blanket)
12 knitted things for Hattie  (easy)
12 individual socks (possibly pairs) (not a chance)
12 weeks no yarn buying (except to finish projects, otherwise they become WIPs and part of the problem, not the solution) (consecutive?)
12 patterns used (easy)
12 blog posts a month (hmm)
12 other things (tbd, who can say?)

I've set myself another couple of challenges, such as "Make 12 full sized adult jumpers/cardigans in a year" and "Knit something during the massive waste of money, good lord what were we thinking marvellous celebration of sport that is the Olympics" and "Make 26 things from your Ravelry queue, what do you mean you want to make 100 things, are you insane?", as well as, you know, looking after the girls, cooking, working, Rainbows and training to be a Rainbow leader, Junior Church and housework. 

Good thing I thrive on stress really.

Making things for fun and profit

This year has been a bit of a successful one for making and sewing and creating, and most importantly selling.  I've been making baby gros with lovely things on them for friends for ages but not really doing very much else with them.  My friends love them, their babies tolerate them, and I have fun making them.  Then my friend Amanda opened an online shop www.peas-and-love.co.uk, and she is selling them for me.  So far, I have sold two, and I feel as proud as anything.  I am still making them for friends, of course, but getting money for doing something fun is the best thing in the world.

I also started a blanket back in 2009 for Lucy, and she rejected it while I was pregnant with Hattie, saying that it was for the baby.  I have finally finished it, and it is on the baby's bed this evening.  It is lined and everything. 



I am rather pimping this photo out, it has been on facebook, twitter, ravelry and all sorts, but it is a lovely one I think.  I am as proud as proud of my work, the knitting, crocheting, sewing and procreating.

Other things I've made this year have been fish mittens that were too small for me, but perfect for Gaby,

a kitten jumper for my friend Kaili's baby daughter, Posy, which was more of a pain in the bum than it looks, thanks to me having decided to ignore the pattern and knit it in the round,



and Simon's wedding anniversary socks with a triforce and three hearts on the forest green background,

We are nerds, and he loves Zelda, so there you go, synergy.  Because he is sad, he wears them while playing the new Zelda game, which I actually really quite enjoy watching, and helping him complete.  Because I am a bit useless, they were started well before our anniversary on the 4th of August, and were finished well after.

I've made lots and lots of things this year, but I think these four are my personal favourites.

Roll on 2012 and a whole new wardrobe.

Unable to be more interesting than this

Well, Christmas went off without any problems.  I'm glad it's all over now, as it was remarkably stressful, emotionally and physically.  We, as in the girls and I, went to see my parents in Cambridge, which is always amusing - highlights include me getting cystitis, having to ask for help with the children while on antibiotics that didn't work, being told that the reason Hattie isn't walking is because I don't pay her enough attention and coming home. 
The best bit of the day itself was going to church and genuinely enjoying the peace and quiet joy of the service, even given the girls climbing all over us and shouting.  Matthew the vicar made the cardinal error of picking Lucy up for a cuddle and realising that she is deceptively heavy - 2 and a half stone at last weigh in.  The day before was the Christingle service with a Nativity, and that was very lovely and mildly stressful.

Simon did all the cooking on Christmas Day, which earned him massive Brownie points with everyone we know - gosh, imagine, a man! Cooking! How unusual!  It also means that I will be doing all the cooking for the first fortnight of the New Year, which is fine, it'll make a change and I enjoy cooking, so long as I have something interesting to listen to on the wireless and someone else does the washing up.

My brother in law was his usual charmless self, but I must try to be positive or at least vaguely polite about him as he has given us the gift of time together for Christmas, which is really what both of us wanted.  His friend works for the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, and can get good seats cheaply, so Jamie and Jim are treating us to a meal, a night at the opera or ballet and overnight babysitting.  Fantastic and really surprisingly thoughtful of both of them.

The girls, especially Lucy, were utterly spoilt over Christmas, but the excitement has worn off, and apart from being foul at around 4 pm, they are back in their usual routines.  Hattie is being conned into having two day sleeps, which she is very grumpy about, and we are attempting some quiet time with Lucy.  Admittedly, I think I enjoy sitting and listening to a story more than she does, but I'll keep trying at weekends and during holidays.  Hopefully she will be happy to go up to her room and play with her dolls' house by herself soon.  My dad has renovated my dolls' house and the girls are borrowing it for the next 10 or so years; it was my favourite thing, and I am so pleased that we have a house large enough to keep it - it is enormous.

Hattie is almost walking.  God help us all.

I wanted to write a huge post about the wonderful books I'm reading (Magnificent Obsession - eye opening) (Middlemarch - frustrating) and about the mountains of knitting I've managed to finish (masses - including the FLOWER BLANKET) but I'm just too, too tired.  Next time.

Happy belated Christmas.

Getting it off my chest

This time last year I was in Queen Charlotte's, the maternity hospital next to the White City estate, listening to Persuasion, and cuddled up with my tiny little baby.  Hattie was born on the 3rd by elective c-section, weighing in at 7lb 10, just 1 ounce heavier than her sister, and than me when I was born.  Thanks to my gestational diabetes, she was whipped out two weeks early, so she probably would have been massive if I'd been able to have her naturally, as I'd desperately wanted to.

I've been reading a lot about childbirth and babies recently - maybe my body/someone is trying to tell me something - and a lot of it is making me as mad as a wet hen.  The natural birth lobby are up in arms over c-sections, and there are lots of comments from people who didn't have them about how difficult they are to recover from.  The home birth lobby are all in favour of a return to the days when women and babies died in childbirth at home with just the midwife for company - I am exaggerating but out of two people I've known who had home births, the outcomes were utterly gutwrenchingly awful for everyone concerned. 

I've had two pregnancies and two births via c-section and while I didn't really want to be cut open and have my babies pulled out, my body wasn't having it any other way.  I went into labour naturally with Lucy the first time and then, nothing.  The obstetrician I saw when I was expecting Hattie told me bluntly that it wasn't likely that I'd have a natural birth the second time, and I should really consider my options.  My choices were a c-section on that Friday or the following Friday, and at 37 weeks pregnant, massive, stressed, diabetic and chasing a fast-paced toddler, it wasn't a particularly hard decision.  I wish I could have popped the babies out like peas, one after another, but it wasn't for me.  One hundred years ago and I might not have made it through my first labour.

We have the right to choose where and how we give birth; however, we don't always get our own way, and sometimes our bodies do not work.  We are not ill when we are pregnant, and yes, as a species we have been giving birth in the same way forever and a day, but the baby will only fit through the pelvis in one rotation, and sometimes that rotation doesn't happen naturally.  Sometimes it is actually safer for you and for the baby for your pregnancy and birth to be closely monitored and for medical intervention/interference to take place.  And the NCT telling us that the NHS want us to be well behaved and quiet during childbirth - fucking hell.  Tinfoil hat time, chaps.

People to read for two opposing views:

http://morethanamumblog.wordpress.com/2011/11/30/first-time-mothers-and-home-births/

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/nov/27/barbara-ellen-birth-marilyn-monroe

One Day

I joined an online book club, thinking that I could do with a bit of a challenge, what with my life being so empty and everything.  My friend Ruth has started this blog here, which I read every now and then, and the first virtual meet-up is this evening.  Unfortunately, I'm out tonight, so I thought I'd write a blog post with a review of the book.

I wanted a challenge, and I got one.  I've heard all sorts of opinions about this book, from "Oh my God, it made me cry", to "I flung it in the dustbin and then set fire to it", and so was interested to read it.  The challenge was not in the writing, or the plot, or the characters, it was in finishing the damn thing without heaving it out of the window.  The protagonists are deeply unlikeable for lots of different reasons, and, while I often read things about people I wouldn't have in the house, the writing and the plot are too weak to carry the characters.  It's an easy and light read, I'll give it that, which is good for the brain-dead, but my God, I've never been so cross with myself over literature.  My instinct was that I wouldn't like it, and reading it in the charity shop made me a bit cross, so I don't know why I bothered.  At least I can say that I have read it now, and I am not going to the trouble of watching the film.

For what it's worth, I think he would have had a better book if he'd forgotten he'd written Cold Feet, and missed out the bit that was lifted straight from the telly.  I know you should never waste good material, but bad material can be thrown out. 

The other online book group is more promising - Middlemarch with dovegreyreader.

Mostly about disgusting people

Some days I could just scream and scream and scream, and this is one of them.  I have a proper head cold, all sniffles and snot and headaches but not really ill enough to justify staying in bed for a whole day.  Frustatingly, I caught from the children at school, most of whom have been away in the last couple of weeks. 

My least favourite child is a disgusting ball of snot - today, he spat something out on the carpet; yeuck.  I mentioned him to our childminder - her reaction? I bet he's foreign.  Well, yes, his family is from Sri Lanka, as it happens.  She had once seen an Indian man spit in the streets, and thought of telling him that he should go back to his own country and spit there.  A charming woman.  Can't wait to stop using her.

Today, in more spitting news, the nanny of another child spat on the ground outside our Nursery.  If I see her doing that again, I am going to call her on it, as it is disgusting.  Yeuck, yeuck.  I hate my job sometimes.

What else?  I got a load of Christmas information - lots of money to spend on a night out with my colleagues, I don't THINK so.  I am not going to our Christmas meal as it is just too complicated with the girls schedules, so I will hoy my Secret Santa into the bag and give it a miss.  I could do it if I want to, but I really, really don't. 

Three good things:

I sold a baby grow for a tenner.
My friend has had a baby, and wants a baby grow.
It is nearly Hattie's birthday.  I can't believe it.

Oh golly, I just can't bear it any longer.  I need a new job.

Total fail

I have given up on this NaPloBloMoDo whatsit, mainly because there is only 1 thing I want to write about and I am actually probably not allowed to until the police leave.

Intriguing no?

Stories about socks

I like to knit socks.  I find them meditative and comfy to wear, and because I like to knit them in the car, I like to make very dull socks, with stripes as the only distraction from round and round and round and round.  I like making the heel, especially now I can make them without a pattern, because I am CLEVER and BRILLIANT, not because once you can make a heel, it is a very easy thing to do.

According to my ravelry page, I have made 15 and a half pairs of socks, with another pair cast on but not worked on for a while, as I lost interested under a shower of baby stuff. 

Isn't knitting wonderful?

Honestly, this is the best I can manage tonight, my brain is totally frazzled.