Sorry for lack of posts - life got in the way. And, by the way, isn't chickenpox horrible?

Hello
It's shocking how I didn't post at all during June. Somehow the world got on top of me. Even now, my brain's on overdrive. Can't sleep, eating like a pig (big bar of Chocolate dairy milk anyone) and worrying about everything.....
It started with the kids getting chickenpox. Boy, were they ill. I didn't realise it could be that bad. The little one was covered in spots, all over his scalp, in his mouth and throat, all over every part of his body. He wouldn't eat anything, except fairy cakes. My mother had to step in there. Even now he's better, he's got a fairy cake fetish (no icing needed).
Then I got offered a new job, at the same time as taking on loads of work. Haven't started yet, but obviously stressed about it, even though the contract hasn't arrived. Maybe they're withdrawing it before I even start???
And we're hoping to move house - surely the most stressful thing of all. I dream (when I sleep) of surveys and boxing up our house. Shoot me now.........
More later when my brain's back in proper gear (not that I have any idea when that will be!)

Who's in charge of the pregnant woman?

As if being pregnant wasn't already hard enough, we women are now being assailed by a whole new series of warnings and messages. It's enough to make you think that you aren't in charge of your own body (although we women with children usually know this - the little parasites make it obvious).
Last week there was the ridiculous announcement that pregnant women mustn't drink any alcohol AT ALL. It's not as if this was even based on any new research. Rather it was to stop the 9 per cent of women who drink too much and damage their children. Now, call me cynical, but I'm not convinced that those 9 per cent will be at all affected by new government guidelines. What is more likely to happen is that the other 91 per cent will feel incredibly guilty if a mere tipple makes its way into their mouths.
The government loves telling us mothers what to do. Pregnancy has always been a time when other people feel they can offer unwanted advice and admonitions, but when the government gets involved (telling you what to eat, and what not to eat, what to drink and what not to drink), it somehow becomes depressing. And it doesn't stop there. We're also supposed to breastfeed our newborns exclusively for six months - even if they start screaming for food at four or five months. It's enough to drive you mad.
But driving you mad is not good either. Get ready to pile on the guilt, for today brings reports that women who suffer stress during pregnancy transmit their anxiety to their unborn children as early as 17 weeks.
I had two awful pregnancies and hate reading about this type of research. It makes me feel bad when I can't do anything about it. But, to cheer up those out there who may be concerned, take heart. I ate complete rubbish during my pregnancies, was stressed beyond belief because I felt so ill, threw up for nine months and took a whole load of (prescription) drugs to make me feel better. I even started my kids on solids at four months. And they are both gorgeous.

I don't just work because I have to - and my children should know that!

A recent trip to the library introduced my children and me to a new book, My Mum Goes to Work, by Kes Gray. The title sounded good, so I brought the book home. What a mistake...

I think the idea behind the book is to reassure children that although their mums may go to work, they still love them. All well and good. Except that it goes further and suggests (or at least appears to suggest) that mum doesn't really want to work at all.

"My mum goes to work but I know she still thinks about me all the time," it says, showing mum sitting in front of her computer with a cup of tea, and looking at a photo of the child. I wouldn't have thought this was the most appealing of thoughts for mum's boss.
And it gets worse.....

I know she'd like to be cuddling me

I know she'd like to be tickling me etc etc

How depressing.

Mums who work are in such a complicated situation. On the one hand we're told that it's good to be with our kids, especially if we don't want them to end up as delinquents and on the other, we're encouraged back to work.

But that's not the only complication. Books like My Mum Goes to Work promote the idea that we work not because we want to, but because we have to. What this apparently simple picture book actually implies is that mum would much prefer to be at home. Well, while that may be true of many, it's not true of all. Lots of us work not only because we have to, but, actually, because we want to as well. We enjoy getting out of the house, enjoy thinking about something other than what to make for supper, and enjoy talking to adults instead of two year olds all the time.

There's always going to be guilt, especially for full-time workers, and there are always going to be mixed feelings, from full-time mothers, full-time workers and part-time workers. But isn't it time we accepted that mothers don't stop wanting to have mental stimulation just because they have kids? Can't people accept that often we want to work, and agonise over balancing our lives for ourselves and our children?

I also think that books which actually mention mums who work (as opposed to the hundreds of books which have mums taking their kids to the park, bathing them, feeding them and reading them stories) could do a better job and remind children that such mothers can be role models. My Mum goes to Work hints that the mum is almost unhappy at work, and that can't be a good thought for a child (by the way, the book is written and illustrated by two men...)

I'll stop ranting now, but hopefully you have got the gist of what I mean. Can't we finally admit that we work because we want to (but that we love our kids too!)?

If you deserve a pay-rise for failure, what does that say about success?

So, Neil Warnock, the manager of Sheffield United, is leaving - partly, apparently, because he wasn't being offered more than a £50,000 pay rise. For those of you who don't know about football, Sheffield United have just been relegated, which means the club loses millions next season by being out of the Premiership.
So, please explain, why should Warnock get any rise, let alone more than £50,000? Should failure really be so heavily rewarded?
Football's a very strange environment anyway - with players getting upwards of £100,000 a week, and fans now having to pay an absolute fortune to see their teams to fund this. I haven't been to see my team for years - how could I justify spending £30 for an hour and a half's entertainment?
But it's also a strange world because there doesn't seem to be that much motivation to prove yourself for your pay rise. Mr Warnock needed to succeed - and keep Sheffield United in the Premier League - not fail. That way, a huge pay-rise would have been justified. Otherwise it sends out completely the wrong message.
But if £50,000 is too little for him, I'd gladly take it - it's way more than double my yearly salary......It's as if football, footballers and their managers, are living in a completely different world.

I think I have a square child....

Honestly, the things some people complain about. And now I'm joining them. The trouble is, I think my five-year-old is a bit too good.
"Lucky you," I hear you mutter, but that's not always true. It can get embarrassing having a daughter who adores rules so much, she gets upset if anyone breaks them.
Last night I could see that she was upset (again).
"What's wrong, darling?" I asked.
"I'm sad because X* broke the rules," she said softly. "At Show and Tell today, she brought in her new puppy and we're not allowed to bring in things that are alive. That's not fair, is it?"
Uncertain what to reply, I was keen to say something like "Life's not fair, love. Some people get away with things and others don't. X - who is pretty and full of personality - will probably go through life getting away with whatever she wants."
But instead I said some waffle, and went away shocked at how put out she was.
This followed a weekend where we went to a friend's house and, having gone upstairs to play with her friend, she kept re-appearing downstairs where we adults were attempting to have a conversation.
"Mummy, Y won't let Jonny (not his real name, I hasten to add!) play with the garage. She's put all the cars away."
"Mummy, Y is jumping on the bed. I don't think she should."
And finally, "Mummy, Y keeps throwing things."
"Well," I replied, "that's okay as long as it doesn't hurt anybody."
"But it could, couldn't it?"
My daughter is lovely, fun and sparky. But often that spark can't be seen, as it's so heavily overlaid by the rule-following goody-goody. This part of her definitely doesn't come from me. I blame my husband.......And I'm not sure what to do about it.


* Yes it's the same X as below.....

I know I need to lose weight, but this is ridiculous.......

Disaster has struck. Masterfoods have begun using animal products in their chocolate bars. I will no longer be able to eat a Mars a day, or (more likely), stuff myself on Malteasers or Minstrels (which I absolutely love).
Recently I have been complaining that I have put on weight. Don't hate me, but I have always been quite slim - which is not always great, as I also have no figure to speak of (no bust - which shrank even more after breastfeeding, even though that seemed impossible).
I always knew that if I did put on weight, I would have problems, as I just like to eat what I want. Most of it is healthy, but I do love the odd chocolate bar, cake, biscuit etc. And strangely, while it was once the odd one, it's now the odd two, three or four.
I blame the kids and their "special treats." They have one, and obviously I need one too......
Not only that, but I now become hungry at 5pm - their mealtime, even if I'm working and not looking after them. Snacking has become a dangerous pursuit in my house.
Perhaps I should say thank you to Masterfoods for at least blocking off numerous delicious chocolate bars. But I can't. I think I will miss the Malteaser one in Celebrations the most......

Find it hard to relax? I do. Is it guilt?

My toddler is asleep. The older child is at school. I am on a day off. This means I now have an hour or so to myself. So why do I a) always feel bad about it and b) never utilise the time properly?
Think of all the things I could do - from eating a proper lunch (fat chance) to reading the paper, watching one of the zillions of things we have on video or ringing a friend. Instead I find myself in front of the computer answering emails, catching up on work and yes, writing this blog.
It's almost as if I'm so wired to be either working or looking after the kids that I can't quite cope (or believe it) when there's actually some time off. My brain won't believe it.
One day I'll work it all out, but in the meantime I'm sure ds will be up soon, and the moment long gone......