Stop the World

First of all, I want to thank everyone who contributed a comment to my previous post; a subject I have never written about before; breast feeding and a woman's right to choose. I was overwhelmed with your comments and found each one of particular interest. It's inevitable there will be a difference of opinion on such a complex issue, and it was welcoming to see that most were very gracious in giving their own point of view and managed to stay impartial and unjudgemental. Sometimes, one just has be included in a continuing debate, but I doubt this will be a topic I will write about again. So thanks to all. And if you didn't see the post but would like to know what I'm talking about, it's here: Breast is Best? Poppycock. (It's the previous post - the comments are well worth a read.)

I spent most of Monday sat on my bed watching Dallas. Do you remember that wonderful 80's soap opera based in the oil capital of the world? Shoulder pads, big hair and very long legs, bursting onto our screens in abundance. Some of the original cast will be starring in the new series which I believe comes to UK television in summer. I'm so excited about it that I bought seasons 5-14 on DVD in order to catch up. So now I'm having lots of Dallas days and nights. It's not surprising I'm feeling nostalgic as the 1980's was the decade I went through my teens and into adulthood. They were amazing years for me. I could have done without going to school but the social side of my life was fabulous. I often sit and reflect on the person I was back then; the teenager itching to grow up and become an adult, wondering what the world would be like once I was set free from the clutches of my parents. There were no bills to pay, no complications, no big decisions to make. I was trendy and carefree, happy-go-lucky and dreaming of my future. Life changes so much as we get older; responsibilities mount up and we find ourselves held down by commitment. My dad was still around in the 80's of course, and if anyone had told me during those wonderful years that by the time I was 31 my dad would no longer be with us, I'd have laughed and told them not to be so silly. But then it happens; that moment in time when you suddenly need to press the pause button because you feel your life is moving too fast.

Watching Dallas right now is something I need to do. I feel as though my life has overtaken my thoughts and somehow I need to put the breaks on what is fast becoming a future I'm not sure I want. I know I'll get over this, hopefully sooner rather than later. If I can recollect those carefree days of the Ewings sat around their pool at Southfork, and my dad telling me not to forget Dallas was on that night, I think for now I can handle this feeling of needing to be far away. Occasionally, a look back can help us to search for the way forward.

Breast is Best? Poppycock.

I'm involved in many blogging circles, mainly to do with writing, autism and mums. For a while now I've read, and sometimes commented on, a considerable amount of posts with regards to breast feeding, and most of the articles have been written by mum bloggers. I have fairly strong views on this subject and I try not to shy away from them. But this week, I read a post written by a mum blogger who's blog I've never read before, and she was literally beside herself because she found it difficult to breast feed. I read through some more of her posts because I assumed she was suffering from post natal depression or something, but all the posts indicated that she just lived a normal, healthy and happy life with her husband and two other children. I refuse to judge anyone, most of all people I don't know, but her words made me feel really sad for her and women in that position.

Women who find it hard to breastfeed their babies are NOT a failure. The whole campaign that "breast is best" has put an increasing amount of pressure on new mums and when I heard many hospitals no longer supply formula, well, I dare say the air was blue around me. I guess that's an issue with the Health Service really, and I assume it's a new issue. I do sympathise with women who feel inadequate because they can't breast feed but I do feel this comes from deep within, like it's a desire to prove their woman-hood in the most natural way they can. All we want is for our babies to be healthy. Many new mums like to try breast feeding and that's entirely their privilege. I didn't.

I was asked once during my pregnancy if I intended breast feeding or bottle feeding. My answer was quick, adamant and not debatable. I was never asked again, not even in hospital. When Amy was born, I was passed a small bottle of formula and she drank it straight away. I had no intention to even try breast feeding, and I certainly had no intention of changing my mind about it. Pressurising new mums is, in my humble opinion, one of the worst things anyone can do. Hormones raging, tiredness, trying desperately to get into a new routine and realising that your life will never be the same again is most definitely all the pressure a person needs. When the health visitor sits opposite you, watching baby squirm about in your arms, then asks how you're getting on feeding and you reply, "not great", that's when you need the support and not the "do you think you might be suffering from PND?" question. If a woman can't decide on which method to use then help should be sought, but it should not be turned into "you should do it this way because it's best for your baby" conversation. Mum knows what's best for her baby, and baby will soon tell you anyway. Breast feeding AND bottle feeding is a CHOICE. No one should ever be made to feel as though they failed because they're having problems with baby latching on, or because the experience is painful and uncomfortable. A woman is very capable of carrying and nurturing an unborn baby for nine months. Surely she is capable of making a decision without being judged or discredited by other women and health professionals.

p.s. I've changed the comments format, can you tell me if you prefer it like this or the other way please...

I Dream of Emigrating

I have an uncle and six cousins in Australia. My uncle is my dad's brother and the resemblance is pretty striking. I've only met two of my cousins when they came over with their mum and dad in 1979 but I remember it like it was yesterday. The last time I saw my uncle was about four years ago when my nana passed away. If I had to leave the farm, there are two places I'd like to live; one is the Scottish Highlands where The Farmer, Amy and me have spent several wonderful breaks together and naturally holds fond memories for me. The other place is Australia. My uncle lives in Adelaide and even though I know virtually nothing about the place, I'd be interested to learn more. But something I did learn recently was how difficult it is to obtain a visa for a special needs child. They need to prove they can live independently yet I'm not sure if Amy ever will do. It brought it home to me how our special needs society are continuously fighting a battle, just to live the best they can.

The opportunities might be better in Australia, not only for Amy but for me, too. I don't mention The Farmer because he'd never move out of the UK in a million years. I'd be shocked if he agreed to move at all. Because of my epilepsy I realise a long distance move would have a massive effect on me. I'd have to find the right medical care for a start. But I could live in Australia. In my mind I feel I could make a life out there. My uncle moved to Adelaide in the late 60's and settled immediately. I expect times have changed significantly since then but to know I have seven family members out there, not to mention my cousin's children also, gives me a reason to at least dream about it. Maybe one day I'll visit them all. Maybe.

How Much Is Not Enough?

I know it sounds a bit sad but last week I decided to count the amount of cold-callers and begging correspondence I received in the post and on the phone. On average, we get 2 phone calls a day offering their services and trying hard to make us believe they're the next best thing since Bell invented the phone. Between Monday and Friday I answered the phone 14 times to cold-callers, even though we are registered with the Telephone Preference Service. We only have a business line so I assume this is why the volume of calls is so high. One caller rang twice in one day; he wanted to speak to The Farmer who was, astonishingly, working on the farm. When I told him this, he said he'd ring back another time, which he did, at 3pm that same day. Once more I fobbed him off and fortunately he hasn't rung back since. As I'm far too polite to tell them to piss off, after all they're only doing their job, I just hang up. A lot of these calls are international; I'd be interested to know how they got my phone number.

But what is really starting to irritate me, and it's not a new problem, are the amount of begging letters addressed to me personally. Charities seem to be getting increasingly desperate for our money but is January really the best time to try to encourage us to pay out? Last week, I received two lots of charity raffle tickets, three pens, a huge sheet of address labels and a very sad letter telling me that the amount of money I give to a certain charity simply isn't enough. We see adverts on tv everyday attempting to make us feel guilty for eating and having fresh water, organisations asking for just £2 per month and a constant barrage of charities urgently needing our help. I give to 3 charities, all very close to my heart. What puts me off is the fact that our £2 will make "all" the difference. How many people need to give £2 in order for it to make a difference and how long will it be before that charity is ringing up to ask for more money? I'll always support genuine charities because I believe in the work they do, but all this paper and free gifts seems, to me, a waste of money, money that could (and should) be used to support the cause.

Edit: since publishing this post at 9.30 this morning, I've received two more phone calls, one company of which phoned twice last week.

Use Twitter Wisely

I had another freaky experience on Twitter the other day when I obviously tweeted the wrong thing. Being a lover of social networking, I find I have more confidence online than I do in the 'real world'. Whether that's right or wrong, it's how it is for me, and honestly, I'm not really that bothered. But occasionally something happens that undermines that confidence and pulls you down a peg or two, making you feel like you're the biggest loser on the planet. For those of you who use Twitter, you will know how inundated it is with spam. Many people, especially in my timeline, try not to type words that will trigger spam tweets such as "diet", "weight" and "job". All these words generate automatic spam tweets, or spam-bots, that are usually asking you to click onto a dodgy link, and have a profile picture of a scantily-dressed woman. Once you've used Twitter for a while, you get wise to these spam-bots and know not to click on the links. I'm digressing slightly, so I'll cut to the chase... Over last weekend I tweeted about my iPad. Now whenever someone tweets the word 'iPad', they are usually bombarded with spam tweets about where you can buy an iPad, how to win one and such-like; so many of us prefer to tweet something like 'eye pad' as an alternative. I got into the habit of doing just this and have used that term for weeks now.

I learned, on Sunday, that there are some pretty nasty individuals on Twitter after I tweeted about not being able to use photos I'd taken on my "eye pad". For the next few hours, I was completely overwhelmed by what I would class as bullying tweets taking the piss out of my use of the term eye pad. I stopped counting the amount of retweets that particular tweet got after I reached 50, because it was starting to upset me. As a general rule, it's a great thing to be retweeted, (and in my opinion, important to say thank you) especially if you're promoting something and want to spread the word, but in this instance, that tweet was picked up by someone in another country who wasn't even following me. They are obviously a member of a very large group of people because over and over again, I was retweeted by people who didn't follow me, who had thousands of followers themselves and who just seemed hell bent on making me look like a complete idiot. "What's this bitch talking about", was one comment, followed by "rofl, wtf", followed by many leaving symbols of faces laughing, some crying, others rolling their eyes. None of these people knew me, not one of them even tried to get to know me, yet all of them thought they had a right to judge me. I don't know if you could call something like this bullying, or even abuse, but it made me realise, yet again, that we have to watch what we say. I often find Twitter a difficult place to be these days; recently, I'm finding less people wishing to interact with me and I'm also noticing an increase in the self-righteous tweets. If I had my way, I'd keep Twitter a friendly and supportive environment and not have it turned into an aggressive and smart-arse social network that none of us really need. And before anyone says I'm being too sensitive, I agree with you - I am too sensitive, but none of us should have to put up with bullying in whatever form, however weak or strong our personalities are.

Who Comes First?

There was a debate on the radio concerning the tragic incident that happened over the weekend where the cruise  liner capsized. It must have been a very big shock to the passengers to realise they were caught up in what has been described as being like "a disaster movie". It certainly brought tears to my eyes when I listened to a survivor tell how some people were asking other passengers to take their children because they didn't think they'd get off alive. I've never been on a cruise, I don't like sailing. But getting back to the question that sparked the debate, and one I found rather interesting, listeners were asked, "should women and children get off first?" My initial reaction to that was, yes, they should. Then someone rang in and changed my mind; he thought mothers and children should be first, rather than women in general. It raises a very thorny issue though, don't you think, especially where hidden disabilities are concerned. It was reported that grown men were pushing past people in order to get off the boat, and I think that's because it's human nature to panic in an unknown situation. But I suspect many of those men were fathers and husbands, desperate to stay with their families. What an incredibly difficult issue to raise, one listener said, especially in these modern times of equality.

Once upon a time, it would have been women and children first, no questions asked. But what about the elderly, the mentally unstable, the disabled? Where should we draw the line when it comes to 'who comes first'? I listened to a few more people giving their opinion but in the end, it was clear that the answer is such a grey area it is almost impossible to answer. What do you think? Women and children first? Mothers and children first? Disabled people first? It's worth a ponder isn't it...

Give Me Reality Any Day

As someone interested in farming, I love to watch the reality TV shows that are supposed to educate us all on the trials and tribulations of working and living on a farm. Lambwatch and Springwatch will be on before we know it, and once more we'll all get the opportunity to see new life brought into the world. It's quite encouraging how so many farms have spanking new gates and sheep pens, new and shiny pieces of machinery to make the farmer's job so much easier. It's wonderful to see how the whole family takes part, all year round, shoveling poo, mending fences and working round the clock to ensure the new pick-up that's desperately needed is delivered on time. I delight at the wonders of a well-trained, fit and healthy sheep dog, adhering to every command, beautifully groomed as it lives in its meticulously purpose-built kennel. I love to see the farmer's wife donning her many hats; cook, child bearer, mum, wife, farmer, lambing assistant, taxi, happy-go-lucky and not a care in the world because her husband comes in every night, shags her senseless and they wake up content, before she pops off to the kitchen to rustle up a full English.

And back to the real world....

Gates falling off; crap everywhere.

A Real Farm!

Confused Sheep Dogs

Okay, so being a farmer is pretty amazing...

Is It All Too Much, Do You Think?

There's such a lot happening in my life right now, I feel as though I'm stuck on a roller coaster and can't find the exit. When evening comes I can't wait to put my pj's on and snuggle up under the duvet with the television on. Sounds a bit pathetic I know - I mean, how old am I? Not exactly past it am I?! (Stop sniggering at the back) One of the things I'm planning is quite exciting, for me. I've decided to re-launch my book, Discovery at Rosehill, but this time just as an eBook. Many people I've been privileged to get to know in the last six months have done this too, and I feel it's time I joined in. The book has sold well but I certainly haven't promoted it enough. My lack of confidence hasn't helped. Popping into a few local book shops a while ago was the furthest I got to a book signing and to be honest, I'm starting to feel a bit inadequate as an author. I read so many wonderful websites offering advice and giving suggestions, and the websites I'm involved with (loveahappyending.com and Famous Five Plus) are incredibly supportive. I'm in the stages of planning a Blog Tour and ten people so far have offered to help.

I think we go through these periods in our lives where we don't know whether we're coming or going. I like a challenge and I like to be kept busy, but for some reason recently, I've been so unmotivated and lethargic that I knew I needed to do something drastic. Re-launching my book is perhaps a little drastic especially when it's been out for ten months now, and I have my second novel ready to be edited which I'm determined won't take a back seat. Am I taking on too much do you think? Amy's at school all day and I'm here, trying to get on with my own life. It's easy to become entangled with our kids lives and wake up one day to find we've lost our way. I know if Amy needs me I'll drop everything, but this is important to me. Something I achieved with no help from anyone was writing a book. Well, when I say no help from anyone, I mean no help from anyone still living...

Our New Addition

This is Tanya; she's 8 weeks old and the new addition to the Jigsaw household. She has already, after only a few days, settled in and made herself completely at home. House-trained and eating well, she's proving to be a very clever little sweetheart. We got her for Amy but I must admit, this gorgeous little creature has captured the hearts of all of us. She sleeps in Amy's bedroom and in the middle of the night snuggles under the duvet to keep warm. Amy is naturally in her element!

On Wednesday, Amy went back to school and I shut Tanya in her bedroom while I showered and dressed. This was where I found her an hour later; quite content as she lay on Amy's pajamas. How adorable is that?!

She absolutely loves playing on the stairs. We have quite a lot of them, some steeper than others, and it's so funny watching her scramble to the top only to bomb back down again at a hundred miles an hour! We've introduced her to the dogs who don't seem particularly bothered about having a tiny creature in their house, but Jessica (our adult cat, 9yrs) has shown her who's boss. We're letting them face up to each other for a short time each day until eventually, they will just accept that the house is overrun by animals!

Happy Birthday, Amy

My beautiful malteser-eyed princess is twelve years old today. So often I wonder how I was capable of bringing such loveliness into the world, but of course I did. She was born three weeks early and took almost 36 hours to make her appearance once labour had started. Believe me, the relief I felt when my baby was swathed in a blanket and placed in my arms, was quite intense. I guess I thought I'd given birth to an elephant at one point, then I looked at the tiny button nose, luscious lips and the rosy red cheeks as perfection stared back. Our child's birthday will always be one of the most nostalgic days of our year and today, for me, is no exception. I look back on previous years and recollect the precious memories that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

Which words come to mind when I think of Amy? Incredible, unconditional, overwhelming, beautiful, independent, talented, argumentative, loud, funny, happy. She has a wonderful life because she's loved, and because she knows how to love. She comes first, second and third. She's the brightest light in my heart and the deepest hurt when things go wrong. So much has happened between us over the years, and so much more has yet to take place. What a lucky mum I truly am.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AMY.
I love you more than anything else in the whole wide world.