School Uniforms, Perfect Poop and a Quick Chat
I knew it was coming, and I’d been dreading it for AGES. Taking Noah to get his school uniform. I knew he’d be well behaved; in fact he was pretty much no trouble at all. But when you have TWO little people, one of whom would risk ripping off limbs (mine, his and/or other) to get out of the pushchair, does not make for a particularly fun trip. I strapped Isaac and Noah firmly into the Phil & Ted’s as I had NO INTENTIONS of getting them out unless strictly necessary. Joyfully (not) I manage to land possibly the dreariest assistant ever. This was gonna be fun.
So after repeatedly telling her what we needed, she started to bring stuff over and it dawned on me (yes it took me THIS long) that I was going to have to get Noah out of the pushchair. Isaac had already ripped off one shoe and thrown it across the room; I was on limited time.
Thank God – Noah was golden, behaving like a saint, trying stuff on, babbling away and repeating what he could hear going on around him. Then Ms Dreary had to go find something, I dunno, a hat that didn’t engulf his entire head (“Yeah…um…yeah I guess that’s a bit big, shall I go find a smaller one?” “No, I’d like to take this one, I’m quite sure his head will have grown to twice the size by next Monday and will therefore fit perfectly.” *FACE-PALM*). Clearly, they were low on stock as she was taking her time. Noah was getting restless. And Isaac was getting shouty (shoes and socks had all been removed). We’d got just about everything, just needed a hat, socks and some clothes labels – and then I spotted it.
Tucked away in the corner was a little play area, perfect for them to go and be quiet.
I threw them in and waited.
And then, I smelt something.
And knew instantly that Isaac had pooped. Did I have any spare nappies with me? Of course not. Did I have any baby wipes? Of course!! In the frigging car parked a short walk away.
I sidled over to Isaac and gingerly pulled back his nappy. Vomit inducing air billowed out, but his nappy was empty.
“Is everything ok?” Her nose wrinkles. “We um, we have a toilet if you need it…”
“No thanks! It’s just air, thank God!”
“Ok, well I can’t find the hat and it says on your list you still maybe need socks, I think…I don’t know which ones you want…”
All I can think is sweet god in heaven why does it still stink so much around here? There’s one other kid in the play area so I assume it’s just him. And return to the task of deliberating over whether Noah needs grey ankle socks or grey regular socks. Turns out he needs both (are you kidding me with this, School? He is TWO. Not even funny.)
And then it dawns on me – Noah’s pooped. Of course he has. I peek in and there it is, perfectly nestled in his pants. Is it wrong that my first thought was “Thank god it’s a completely solid one”, closely followed by “I’m so glad he knows not to sit down and squish it”? I have no choice but to put Isaac back in the pushchair – cue desperate wailing like I’m taking him to prison. Noah once again was brilliant; although I realised I had no spare pants for him either (what the fuck is wrong with me? Rookie mistakes after 2 years? JESUS H. C.) Hoiked down his trousers and wrapped my hand in tissues to create a glove and remove the perfectly formed poop from his pants. I dunno how he does it, but no skids and minimal smearing made it an easy job. If I wasn’t feeling so stressed about the impending bill for his clothes (which he’s only allowed to wear until March OMFG) I would have high-five’d him. I wiped him down best I could and took them both back to the play area (anything to stop the small one screaming like a Banshee).
As the assistant put the stuff through the til and I repeatedly mentally thanked my mother for donating some money to help pay for the uniform, I watched Noah playing with the older kids in the play area. They talked to him really nicely, Noah would smile and he spoke just as politely in return. I smiled. Only, the kid would look at him, then look at me, then sidle away awkwardly. They didn’t understand him and none engaged in further conversation. Was it because they didn’t understand him? Did they just get bored quickly? Did they just not know how to respond?
Those were the questions that went through my mind and I quickly realised that these are the sort of questions that will go whizzing around in my head for a long time to come. I want my kid to fit in and be ok, but I want him to stand out and be awesome. Buying his uniform, making sure that it was pristine and he would fit in great and that it would be the same as everyone else so he wouldn’t be teased. And yet I want him to maintain his own personality. How do we deal with that? How do I help him grow like everyone else, and yet grow to be himself, be his own little person?
PhotoBox Review
I was recently contacted by PhotoBox, a company I’m sure many of you will have heard of, to see if I would review one of their products. It came at the right time, as I was thinking about getting a canvas done of Noah and Isaac for the home, but couldn’t decide who to use and what sort of quality they would offer. Needless to say, you don’t want to spend a fortune on something that is only going to last five minutes and look rubbish.
So PhotoBox allowed me to order a canvas for free, hence this review. And I have to say, from the moment they contacted me, I was very impressed. If there’s one thing that matters to me as much as the product, it’s the customer service. It’s not hard to pull your finger out and get on with the job in hand. So when they contacted me and got the ball rolling immediately, advising me on what to do, sorting my account, taking my order, sorting (and fixing!) my blog badge, actually sending my order and the product arriving on my doorstep (the whole process took less than a week) I was already impressed.
This was the picture I chose to have:
And here it is on a 60cm x 40cm canvas
I’m really pleased! It was carefully wrapped in bubble wrap, plastic wrapping and then cardboard all of which protected it quite well (which needless to say I unwrapped very cautiously), and supplied with the usual hanging hook and nails to fix on to the wall.
I examined it a little closer and was pleased with the print quality.
Was very apprehensive about any “bleeding” but it was a really good job.
I was admittedly apprehensive about the security and covering of the brown sticky paper on the back; when it arrived some of the paper had lifted a little and had not been properly secured. It was easy enough to stick back down, however time will tell to see if it lasts well. The frame itself felt very sturdy, and appeared to very well held together; I’m curious to see what I can do in the future should the canvas begin to slacken; I’d like to know that it’s reasonably easy to tighten it should the need arise. I obviously wasn’t about to start throwing it around to test it, of course.
The canvas itself is certainly a tidy job, with no ripples or odd bulges, though I would liked to have seen the print go throughout the edges of the canvas; this could add a little more depth to the picture. Plus I guess I like to let my picture dictate how it goes with the surroundings, not a canvas colour, if you see what I mean.
This particular canvas was listed at £49.99 (it was on offer at the time of ordering) and is now hanging on my wall very nicely, though I used my own hanging stuff. Theirs would have involved me drilling a considerable hole in my wall which I didn’t think was necessary; I have many prints and frames on my walls, MUCH bigger than this canvas which don’t need such bulky wall fittings. But I suppose if/when I find my canvas looking at me from the floor one morning, then I’ll know I was wrong…
I would not use them for my photography business, purely because I expect absolute perfection with no question whatsoever about quality, for my clients. I’m curious to see the quality in prints, and suspect I will take advantage of the 40 free prints offer you receive when you first sign up – who can complain about that? But, uploading the one image was easy, and my mind wonders how they might cope uploading multiple high quality images, as I do with any other photo site.
Great service, decent product, will be ordering again sometime soon, partly for some family prints and partly to see if the great customer service was a one-off because they knew I was reviewing (sorry! I am that cynical). Having said all that, I give them a thumbs up. I’d say if you’ve got some pennies to spare, you want to give yourself or someone you know a nice decent gift or treat, or you just want to see how awesome your photos can look on a bigger scale than your computer screen, then yes, it’s worth it.
This post is a product review for an item sent free from PhotoBox. All views are entirely my own
Blognonymous – The MADs
This post was written anonymously and submitted to Blognonymous for publishing on this blog. Please feel free to leave your support should you wish, in comments below. Many thanks.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Many people have asked me why I pulled out of the MADs blogging awards and I have remained silent.
I didn’t want anyone to know because I didn’t want to make a fuss and I didn’t want any backlash. I wanted to withdraw quietly because I knew it was the right thing for me to do and I stick by my principles.
I know a lot of people supported my blog and voted for me to get me through to the final stages. And I am hugely grateful. So you need to know that pulling out wasn’t a decision I took lightly: I really do not like disappointing anyone.
But the competition became a farce as far as I was concerned. Someone closely connected with it was behaving intolerably and I couldn’t in all consciousness have anything to do with it any longer.
Other people pulled out too, I haven’t asked them why, but I assume it’s for similar reasons. And from what I have heard they were treated appallingly. Unprofessionally. Certainly not fitting for a nationally-run, high profile competition.
Which only went to underline the reasons I pulled out in the first place.
I am writing this because I want everyone to know that I pulled out for good reasons. Whatever you are told: I pulled out, it was my decision no one else’s.
Like I say, I notice when checking the finalist list that others have pulled out too. Lots of others. Which makes me feel vindicated, because it’s obviously not just me feeling this way.
The idea of an award to celebrate bloggers and to showcase their words was a great idea. Something to celebrate. But I discover it’s not the platform I thought it was going to be and back-biting and behind the scenes sniping have proved to me that pulling out was the right decision.
I do not want my name or my blog associated with anyone willing to tarnish reputations and behave in a petty way which upsets others.
I would rather not win anything; rather go on happy in my little corner of the blogosphere.
There have been many, many blog posts recently about online bullying and most people have assumed this is down to public comments made either on blogs or on Twitter. They assume it’s about people being forthright and saying things others may not like or agree with. People being a bit outspoken.
Sadly it goes deeper than that. Not all bullying is that obvious. Some bullying is more vindictive than that and more shocking. Some of it becomes impossible to turn a blind eye; to just ignore it and move on. Withdrawing from the MADs is my way of saying I do not support or even tolerate this kind of behaviour.
The parenting blogging community is a wonderful place and I love being a part of it. But I choose not to support anyone who employs underhand behaviour to rise to a perceived position of power.
We don’t need that.
The Day Asda Taught Me a Thing Or Two About Sausages
A few weeks back, I was incredibly lucky to go and spend a day up at Asda House, Head Office, up in Leeds, thanks to Jo in Asda PR. I had been invited along with Him Up North, Mummy’s Busy World, A Mother’s Ramblings and And 1 More Means four… and 1 More. Was lovely to meet them again (from Cybermummy) or meet them for the first time!
We learnt a hell of a lot about Asda’s history from Owen and Mike who knew more than anything about Asda (seriously. Cut them and they bleed green and white), as well as having the chance to speak to Paul in the “World Food” section (who REALLY knew his stuff, and was very impressive considering we caught him completely off guard) and also Richard in the “Free From” section (who was also really impressive; took loads of notes while Pippa gave an impressive list of requests, and then he gave her a bag full of “Free From” foods for her to take away and sample.
I loved how they all had so much information to give; so much to know about how they try to keep their costs down, how they interacted with their consumers; incidentally, Asda are looking for more bloggers to blog and support their Baby Club.
One of the awesome moments of the day was to be a judge and taste-tester for some customer inspired sausages. There had been a competition where consumers were invited to submit flavours of sausages they had made up. 5 different customer-invented sausages with major prizes for the winner, including their sausage available to buy in store in the next few months. And it was rather cool to go to Asda kitchens (in the MIDDLE of an office, very goldfish bowl-like, but brilliant all the same) and, um, sample some meat.
We met the team in charge of…you know what? I met the guys in charge of meat. Cooking it, testing it, making sure it met standards. These are my new friends.
Now, annoyingly, I can’t find my notes from the day that tell me who people are, so I’m going to momentarily bombard you with pictures of food.
Anyway!! We tasted the sausages and there were some really random flavours (Venison and black cherry, Chilli Con Carne {yes, in a sausage, which absolutely rocked and should most definitely win} and oddly enough one with liquorice in it which did NOT go down well with me), then had a little time to natter amongst ourselves.
(Patience…it’s rather large…)
The very lovely ladies Amy, Maria and Jo talked about baby goods,
And then fabulous Garry had his starring moment, even though he doesn’t like things pointed at him. *snigger*
Huge superstore chain Walmart actually own Asda, and over in America they have something called Walmart Moms, which is roughly the similar sort of idea Asda are hoping to produce over here in the UK. One of these US moms is Jen Fowler and she was around to skype us and listen to our questions; very useful to get the info first hand, as it were.
Sadly the Asda nearest me is so tiny there’s no way I could complete even half a week’s shop in there; but having seen how things could benefit us immensely, D and I are looking for another one nearby. On the whole, a great day, and I’m intrigued to see what we can do to work with Asda. DOn’t forget, if you’re interested in blogging for them, go and have a look at Your Asda and read up on the new Asda Baby Club.
So really, he meant this.
“Ah. Dee dee. Mommy.”
“You want a wee wee?”
“Ohw. Ah. Dee dee. Mommy.”
“What do you want Noah?”
“Ah. Dee dee. Mommy.”
I look down while I’m changing Isaac’s nappy and realise he wants to get past – he’s saying “excuse me, mommy.”
*****
“Ah. Go. Gahggak. Oh. Doodat.”
“Noah please leave Isaac alone, he’s fine.”
“Ah. Go. GAHGGAK. OH. DOODAT.”
“Noah what’s the matter?”
“AH! GO! GAHGAK. OH. DOODAT!”
I look over to see Noah telling Isaac to stop messing with wire cables.
*****
“Ah. Dit-dit. Oot.”
“…”
“Ah. Dit-dit. Oot.”
“What Noah?”
“Ah. Dit-dit. Oot.”
He points at the potty to show me he’s done a wee and I should tip it out.
*****
“Mommy, ah. Hyind.”
“..er..”
“Mommy. Ah. Hyind. Hyinge.”
“Behind?”
“Ah. Mommy. Ah hyinge.”
“Orange?”
“Yeah. Ah hyinge.”
He’s pointing to a pack of wipes now with an orange on the front.
*****
“Ah. Bibbin. Ah. Woof woof! Ah gog. Ah dat.”
“Pippin? A dog? He’s not a cat, is he?”
“Oh, ah Bibbin, ah gog.”
“Yes Pippin is a dog, that’s right.”
“Ah. Gog.”
I listen to hear the “Come Outside” music on CBeebies.
“Mommy, ah chun chun ah howp, ah bibbin. Woahwah, howp, ah gykit, woah Mommy.”
You tell me.
We have another speech therapy appointment in a week – oh goodies! After the last time, I’ll be intrigued to see what help we get this time.
#Blogladesh goes to Bangladesh for Save The Children
The Gallery: One Day in August
Yes, that’s a baby’s bottle filled with water, and yes, next to it is a toy ambulance.
I’ve posted it because of this week’s Sticky Fingers gallery; we have to take a picture and post it today, Sunday 29th August. We could have posted anything we liked. I chose this as what I really want to post about is raising awareness of 3 moms who are probably about to land in Bangladesh as I type, on the start of an amazing journey.
They are there for a week, in order to help raise awareness of the work being done by Save the Children, for mothers and children. Bangladesh is one of the poorest places in the world, and millions of children suffer and every year because of it. Go and read the blogs of Sian, Josie and Eva, who will be documenting their journey for the week.
So why the hell this picture? I took it because in light of what these three mom bloggers will be doing, these are things that a huge number of us, way too many in fact, take for granted. You give your child water when they’re thirsty. You probably don’t think twice about where it comes from – tap? Mineral water bottle? Filter? It’s all good, right? Yeah sure.
And the ambulance! A nice, though slightly battered toy for kids. Something to play with! And on a grander scale, an ambulance to save someone’s life. Hey, you know how, in the UK we bitch about when an ambulance take ages to arrive? Wouldn’t it suck if one didn’t arrive at all???
Huh.
What would you do if you knew that giving your baby that bottle of water might kill them? You take the chance, give them the water. You can’t just watch them dehydrate, can you? Sadly, it turns out the water was very, very bad. Your child now has chronic diarrhoea. And is dying from it.
So now what do you do? What would you do if you were watching your child die, and you knew that it was a considerable hike to the nearest hospital for help; no ambulances, no transport, you have to carry your child.
It’s a tough decision; you have to assume you’re going to make it…but your child may not.
Millions of parents do this, and not just in Bangladesh, and it happens every single day. I’ve written this blog post. I tweet #Blogladesh on twitter. I carry the badge in my sidebar. I’ve pressed for change. I’m raising awareness, just in the hope that I can make a difference.
Are you?
This post was written for The Gallery over at Sticky Fingers.
Recognition, but not for vegetarians.
You all know my love of bacon. I’ve gotten the Kiddos eating bacon. Isaac eats anything you put in front of him (apart from cucumber), and Noah is eating more and more. Especially pork based goods. In fact, Noah will now eat just about anything with pork in it.
And yeah, like I said, you know my love of bacon. So imagine my mother-humping DELIGHT when THIS email arrived in my inbox.
Click to embiggen.
Now, I have no idea what they are going to send.Vouchers? A lifetime supply of pork? Make me president of the board? Who cares. This is a SIGN from the Pork Gods.
In fact, this just shows that if you work at something hard enough, that if you plug away tirelessly, that if you fight for what you truly believe in, then someone, somewhere, will recognise your efforts.
PS If this turns out to be supermarket vouchers, a) I will be REALLY pissed and b) USA bloggers can expect a mammoth giveaway on the blog soon. All be it a bitter one.
The Gallery – Picture Proud
See, this is another flippin’ reason, it turns out, why I couldn’t stop blogging. Lord forbid I should get on the wrong side of The Tara Cain.
I haven’t done The Gallery in a while, for various reasons, which I can’t be arsed to go in to. But this week’s theme, “A Photo I’m Proud Of”, would have been so wrong had I not had a go.
I mean, go look at the post. She used me and my blue tongue, for cock’s sake.
So obviously, I’m going to post billions more than one picture because I’ve finally started becoming really proud of my work. Originally I was just going to post this picture, my favourite for a long time, “Orbs on The Beach”.
This was one of my first attempts at a long exposure image; with a little help from my brother in law (he did the blue orb) this took me nearly 10 straight minutes to do. I haven’t yet been able to recreate since (I did this last year), but we’re heading down to the beach again soon so watch this space! You can see more crazy light art stuff on my flickr set.
When I saw the theme for the gallery, Orbs on The Beach was my first immediate choice. But then, with the weather being so shit here, I decided to play around in the rain and came up with this picture.
Again, another first attempt at water droplet close ups, even though it wasn’t quite what I wanted, I was still really proud of the clarity of the houses reflected across the street from my house.
And then perhaps inspired by the rain, I finally got round to trying something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.
It’s not perfect. It’s not exactly what I wanted. I could tear it apart for the things that to want to fix. But hey, it was my first attempt, achieved in less than 20 shots (I had anticipated maybe 200 shots…). And I love it. Will I do another one? Of course I will. I suspect I’ll reach the point of obsession and then get desperately bored.
Ok now go look at some other pics to be proud of.
Giving In To The Bullies.
You’re all bullies.
All of you.
Yes, even you, looking all sweet and innocent at the back.
But you know what?
All of you who yelled at me on my last rant of a post? All of you who made me fall over with laughter with your words and swearing at me (omfg the SWEARING)? Appealed to my nature (bacon, Sanchez and cock have never been so dear to me)? Told me to pull myself together and not let the real bastards win?
I love you. Thank you. I really was ready to stop. I thought, “You know what? I just cannot take any more, it hurts too much.”
But then you reminded me of what’s important. Important to me in any case. You’re bloody right! This is MY fucking space. And here I can do what the hell I like (as long as it’s not something likely to land me in jail. Or the Daily HateMail).
I can’t thank you enough. I’ve never had such an overwhelming response of amazing comments here, on twitter, DMs, emails OMFG you people really know how to push and shove when you’re ready, don’t you??
Seriously, thank you. I had hit “publish” and was done. And thought I felt relief. As soon as the comments started coming in, I felt sad. Then I saw more posts from people saying similar things. And then I felt infuriated. And realised, YES, if I stop, the real bullies win. I can’t do that. I can’t sit here and whinge and complain about them, and then just give in.
I’ll fight. I’ve always been a fighter. I’m not a fan of taking shit. And I don’t like seeing others take shit, especially people who have supported me so much along the way.
The shit has to stop. It will stop.
They will stop.
So I’m Done.
Literally. With blogging, in any case.
I’ve had enough. I’m sick of it all. I’m bored of it all. It’s shit.
I’m sick of not being able to say what I want to say, for fear of upsetting the apple cart.
I’m bored of people telling me how to write my blog, what to say and how to say it correctly.
I’ve had enough of being told “there are no rules to blogging”, only to have a list of caveats in the very same breath.
I’m bored of the bullying. There is so much bullying. SO MUCH. And I don’t understand it. WHY.
I’m done with feeling like I have to be a competitor with every single post I write.
I am sick to death of the backstabbing, bitching, biting and childishness that seems to come with this.
I have finally reached the point where I am too exhausted to just keep my head down and repeat my mantra: This is me. This is my blog. If you do not like it, do not read it.
The same can be said for twitter. All this “please follow me because I’m following you” bollocks. The crap that is “so and so unfollowed me on my blog, now I’m gonna go unfollow them and block them from my blog too, just for good measure. And also, so I can bitch about them.”
I don’t know how to handle shit like this. I’m not built for shit like this. It’s not who I am. I’ve held on to my mantra from day one. I’ve tried not to beg people to read my blog unless it’s one post that really matters to me. I don’t seek attention unless I’m constantly shoving the info in your face. Though many wouldn’t believe it because quite frankly, the cynicism out there is fucking rife, I link my blog around because with some of the things I write, I only hope I can help someone else out there who might be struggling with the same shit as me.
So for those out there hell-bent on taking mahoosive dumps on those who they think are lesser people? To those who disagree with what I have to say in MY OWN personal space? To those enjoy the satisfaction in the self-appointed role of being Judge-Holier-Than-Thee?
Congratulations. Your absolute shittiness and disgusting attitude is doing a great job.
Shame, really. Because the repercussions are probably more than you would ever fucking know, and you probably don’t give a shit.
twitterererer- @LauraAWNTYM I'm totally glad i did. Major kick off downstairs. Sweet Jesus.
- @jasperblu nope; after November's concert that's it; no more. Played for 25 yrs, want to do other things now :D
- @legobloke thank you! :)
- @jasperblu heh heh! Ahw fanx *blush* xx
- @marketingtomilk thank you! It's at one of Birmingham's biggest concert halls too so I'm hoping it all means good things... xx
Where Are You?
flickr
Networked Blogs
Linky Things
Copyright © 2007-2010 mocha beanie mummy All rights reserved.
