Should I or shouldn't I?

So I'm thinking about whether to take part in National Novel Writing Month this year. This 30-day, crazy-ass dash to a 50,000 word novel in draft form is sheer madness but I grew at least a foot when I hit the finish line back in 2008. But back then I was newly pregnant with DD, in China and with time on my hands. I popped my novel into a drawer and promised myself I'd edit it once I had more time. Of course  my NaNoWriMo mojo fell apart big styleee the following year when a little bundle arrived in my lap and getting-through-the-day became a more important activity. The dust on that novel gets a little thicker every year...

But ever the optimist I've signed up again (this year as Bod for tea, sort of a fresh start if you will) at NaNoWriMo.org. If I'm to take it seriously I need to be writing 1667 words a day to complete my 'novel' by the end of November. That's about six A4 sides of paper if I was writing long hand *gulp*. But here's the thing. I'm using the term 'novel' very loosely.

I sweat blood (metaphorically) and tears (literally) to reach that 50k target three years ago. By the end of it I hated my novel and I haven't read it since. I don't have the luxury of time this time around. I can't just slop about in my PJs on Sunday and write my little tushie off (again, I'm using the term 'little' loosely here). So if I do decide to do it this year (and I think I more or less tweeted myself into it on Saturday with @ghostwritermumm and @rantybeast) then I'm going to have fun with it. I'm going to write with abandon and not give two hoots about the word count. I'm going to create fantastical characters and get out of their way so they can walk around on the page doing whatever takes their fancy. I'm going to try really hard to switch off my inner editor and just write. I may even publish some of it here (because let's face it, it's never going to be published anywhere else), and I might even ask for plot twists and character turns on Twitter.

Of course it will likely mean this blog suffers for 30 days. I'm not sure even I have the mental capacity (or the finger strength) for both. But I'll try my best. There may just be a bit of a NaNo edge to things for a while, so please bear with me while I get this out of my system.

Fancy joining me? Head on over to NaNoWriMo, sign up and see you at the finish line!

Silent Sunday

Reasons to be cheerful

Reasons to be cheerful: 1, 2, 3...

1. Pink my blog. Yesterday was Wear It Pink day, a fundraising event for the Breast Cancer Campaign encouraging everyone to pay £2 to wear pink for the day, at work, at home, wherever. Bod for tea went pink for the day too and I must say it was rather liberating. To promote the day one of the campaign's sponsors, Vanish, created the largest bra in the world.  The bra, scaled up from an original 34B, would be a 1360B. Phew! Talk about an upper-decker-flopper-stopper. So this reason to be cheerful is two-fold. First, I'm just grateful that I don't have to lug two of those enormous boobies around with me. Second, and more seriously, I'm cheerful that people are stepping up to continue to raise money for such an important campaign. As I said on my Wear It Pink post yesterday, ONE IN EIGHT WOMEN WILL BE DIAGNOSED WITH BREAST CANCER. Cancer has touched my family and my friends. You can still donate to the cause even though the campaign day has drawn to a close.

2. The Tweetosphere. It never fails to amaze me how one little request that you tweet out into the world can bring about such a flurry of help from people you hardly know. It's staggering how social media can connect you with so many people so quickly, like six degrees of separation at warp speed. My one little tweet reverberated around the Tweetosphere touching all sorts of people in different countries at the same time before being bounced on like light reflecting on a mirror, tangentially firing off into another sphere on it's journey through virtual space. Goodness, I've come over all Stephen Fry. Anyhoo, you get my point. Thanks to everyone who retweeted my tweet about Parenting Around The Planet. Mahoosively cheerful about that.

3. Tests. After almost two months suffering from a chest infection that just won't bog off and find something else to do, I've finally had some tests and a ride through a donut (also know as a CT scan) to see what's going on. Bit scared about the results which come back next week but I'm channelling Scarlett O'Hara at the mo and thinking about that mañana.

Do you have reasons to be cheerful this week? Pop 'em down and link 'em up over at the lovely Mich's place Mummy From The Heart. While you're at it make a note of the bloggers who will be guest-hosting for her over the next couple of weeks while she takes a break.

Wear it pink

You might have noticed a not-so-subtle change to Bod for tea today. I'm wearing it pink - all over (ahem) - thanks to this post from Little Stuff which got me fired up.

ONE IN EIGHT WOMEN 

WILL BE DIAGNOSED WITH BREAST CANCER 

IN THEIR LIFETIME

I can't say it any plainer than that.

Wear it pink day is Breast Cancer Campaign's biggest fundraising event and it takes place tomorrow, Friday 28 October. Put on something pink (or pink-up your blog) and donate £2 to Breast Cancer Campaign - it couldn’t be easier to help save lives. In 2010, hundreds of thousands of people wore pink, raising over £2 million to help fund vital breast cancer research.

Breast cancer has touched my family. It has touched my friends. It's probably touched someone you know, even if you don't know it.

So please, do your bit. Do what you can. Wear it pink.

Visit the Breast Cancer Campaign's Wear It Pink site, sign up for the event and find out more great fundraising tips, recipes and fun ways to wear it pink.

Parenting Around The Planet - India

Welcome back to this new series of guest posts from mummy and daddy bloggers around the World. Big thanks to Mum of Sindri Blogger from Reykjavik for last week's thoughtful perspective from Iceland. It struck a cord with me, harking back to days past when you could leave your baby asleep outside a shop while you popped inside without fear of abduction or child services intervention. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. This week I'm thoughtful again, and I'm listening. Hard.

Sometimes I read an article and it speaks to me so loudly it shouts. It yells 'STOP and read me!' Then it leans back and whacks me round the head just to make sure I'm listening. And so it was with an article I read on Youth Ki Awaaz recently. Translating literally as voice of youth this is an online platform for young people to express themselves on issues of critical importance. Their mission is to be the voice and ears to a large unheard youth community that fails to reach out to a mass audience when they raise their voices. And it works, because I listened.

While this is not strictly a parenting perspective it is such a powerful child perspective that I had to include it in the series. Big thanks to Youth Ki Awaaz for giving me permission to reprint it here. This article really made me sit back and think about the opportunities that will be available to DD. I hope it raises some interesting thoughts for you.


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Children In An Indian Village - Their Daily Routine
By Pranietha Mudliar

Place: Sasthapur Village, Basavakalyan Taluka, Bidar District, Karnataka, India
(February to April 2011)

I had been meaning to pen down my thoughts about my time spent in my study area since a very long time but somehow the words wouldn’t flow out straight. I saw a lot of things and it somehow confused me. I went down to field with no pre-conceived notions. My advisor had warned me innumerable number of times to get rid of any biases that I may possess.

Happy… Simple joys.

The NGO that hosted me also ran an orphanage. This is not any ordinary orphanage in the real sense of the term. The children who live here are either school dropouts, children who work as labour on farms or children who are just too poor enough to afford going to school. There are 25 boys here, ranging from 5 years to 14 years. The NGO trains them for a year and then helps them with admissions into primary schools. Girls still don’t have the privilege to be a part of such an institution as it is difficult to convince the parents that the girl child also need to study. It is indeed a luxury to go to school when one can rather contribute by earning wages by working on the fields.

The day begins for them at 5 am. They get up with a lot of clamour as all children do and start rushing off to start the day’s work. They have to clean the compounds, bring in the vegetables, wash the rice (in a huge cauldron like vessel), wash their clothes and then take a bath at the community tap. Then at 8 they start their breakfast after a quick prayer to Annadatta. Then it’s time for studies which continues till lunch time.

After lunch they have some respite from the rigor of their studies and they sit around trying to complete some math sums or just read - which entails keeping books in front of them trying to make sense of the strange little characters.

It was a pleasure to watch them play kabaddi one evening. Their smiles and their camaraderie made that moment for me magical. It took them too away from their strict and rigid life.

By 5 it’s again back to studies till 10 in the night with a short break for dinner. The kids are a disciplined lot. They obey their master who doesn’t refrain from using his cane liberally. They fear their elders and flinch when spoken to.

I looked at the kids hard for 2 days before I ventured out to speak and play with them. I could only think that city kids are such a privileged lot and I was so thankful that I was lucky enough to receive the ‘benefits’ of living in a city and well, not a life like these kids.

On my last night I was invited to teach the children some English so that it would inspire them to keep trying to learn it. The logic being that an outsider would have greater impact on the kids rather than someone close harping about its importance day in and day out. I hesitated at first thinking that I didn’t in any way want to play a part in already burdening the children but after a lot of insistence I gave in and went.

It was 10 pm. The kids looked dead sleepy to me. A bunch of 5 kids were made to sit upfront because they were ‘better’ in English that the rest of the class. I mulled over what to teach such a lot because I was sure that hardly anything would make sense to them when all they wanted to do was sleep. Having no choice I started by telling them about seasons. The response was overwhelming. I could see no trace of their sleepiness and they were just so eager to soak in any bit of knowledge that came their way. Maybe the night was playing games with me.

The kids were very willing to sing songs so we started with Jack and Jill and Hum honge kaamyaab. And they just loved it. They followed the tone of my voice and the actions of Jack and Jill sent them into thrills.

Before leaving one boy who was ‘better’ at English asked me, “Tumchya sarka English bolayla kay karava lagta?” (What do we have to do to speak English like you?) That is when a lot of conflicting emotions hit me - I was so touched and glad that they have the hunger to learn and yet saddened by the fact that though the hunger exists, the opportunities were not going to be easy to come by.

I say this because they previous day in one of the villages I saw one kid in his uniform roaming in the village while the rest of the children were in school. I asked him why he wasn’t in school. Pat came the reply, "Today I had to go on the field to work with my parents".

Though these kids will be sent to school, there is no guarantee that they will remain in school. For most it will be back to the fields in the hot scorching sun and remembering a fading dream.

Photo via Procsilas via Flickr Creative Commons.

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Would you like to write a guest post for Parenting Around The Planet? Drop me a line at bodfortea(at)gmail.com

How the bottle with a halo saved my sleep

When DD was a teeny, tiny thing (and she was teeny, tinier than most at only 4 lbs) and I desperately needed to sleep, two things happened. First, I had to feed her every 2 hours 24 hours a day. Second, she had Colic. Sleep? Yeah, right.

And that's when I was introduced to the little bottle of blessed relief that is Infacol. My Mother brought it out to China in her suitcase and I swear it faintly glowed with a halo round the lid. It relieves the griping pain of Colic and helps baby to bring up wind and while it didn't cure the Colic completely it certainly seemed to take the edge off my little screaming bundle's discomfort. And she learned to burp like a trooper too (much to OH's delight). No wonder Infacol is the UK’s leading colic relief treatment. Thankfully it's suitable to use from birth onwards (unlike gripe waters, which can only be given to babies over a month), is sugar, alcohol and colourant free, and good value for money, as it contains up to 100 doses in each bottle (although frankly  I would have re-mortgaged our house to stop DD crying at this point).

Why am I telling you all this I hear you wondering? Sorry, I'll get to the point. Infacol has launched a new parenting and baby wellbeing social community where new mums can learn, share tips and advice and get updated on all things relating to their new addition - with a focus on colic of course. I particularly liked the videos showing baby massage techniques. Anyhoo, to celebrate they're offering one lucky person the chance to win £500 worth of baby goodies to raise awareness of colic. Nice eh?

To enter simply ‘Like’ Infacol's new Facebook page, answer 3 colic related questions correctly and follow the instructions to enter the contest. The closing date is 1st November and the winner will be drawn the following day.

This is a sponsored post. Infacol is a licensed medicine. When using any medication, always read the label and make sure you keep all medicines out of the reach of children.

Images: m_bartosch / FreeDigitalPhotos.net and Infacol.

Missing

That space he usually occupies so fully is empty today. There will be no 'upside downies', no 'shall we have a glass of wine', no cuddles on the sofa. DD's Daddy is missing. But thankfully the void will be temporary. There will be 'where's Daddy?' and 'Daddy come home!' for a few days. But he will be back. Others are not so lucky. Children in the world who are missing out on the love and security that we take for granted. Children who suffer neglect, abuse, abandonment. It's hard to imagine DD in that situation. I just can't go to that place in my head. My heart is too strongly bound to her. It will break if I even imagine that bond broken. But just peeking into that place makes me want to take action. To bring a little joy into the life of a child, so like DD but so unlike her too. So this week I've decorated and filled a shoebox with goodies and love for Operation Christmas Child. For one day I want to take away what's missing and pour in some joy. I urge you to do the same.

Operation Christmas Child.





This is not a sponsored post. This is just something I had to do.

Silent Sunday

Reasons to be cheerful

Here's my reasons to be cheerful this week...

1. New windows. Did I mention this last week? *Goes back to check* Opps, yes I did. Well consider this an update. Most of the windows are now in and the house looks bright and sparkly. It's not until you make a change like this that you realise how much darker your house was before.

2. New windows II. Sorry, another one about the windows. Last one, promise. Today I am very cheerful that all the noisy work is done so that DD can nap upstairs in her room rather than me having to push her for 4 miles around the village in her pushchair for an hour and a half. Normally that would be good exercise, and I have enjoyed the beautiful, crisp, cold, sunny afternoons, but with a chest infection? Not so much.

3. Wrapping things up. And to finish off (see what I did there? *smug*) this morning I wrapped my first Christmas present. I hope that when it's opened the contents is greeted by a smile from ear to ear. But I won't be there to see it because that child? She's not mine. This morning I wrapped a shoebox full of goodies for a little girl somewhere in the world who doesn't have the privileges that DD has. I urge you to do the same. Operation Christmas Child. It's what Christmas is really all about.

4. Mum's gone to Iceland. This week I had a bit of a coup and managed to get my first blogger from Iceland to share their perspective on parenting for my Parenting Around The Planet series. She wrote such a fab piece with two lovely photos.

Have you had a cheerful week? Or can you think of at least three things to be cheerful about (go on, I bet you can). Pop 'em down and link up over at Mummy from the Heart's Reasons to be Cheerful linky.


Image: Idea go / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Parenting Around The Planet - Iceland

Welcome back to week three of guest posts from mummy and daddy bloggers around the World. Huge thanks to the wonderful Kim at Let Me Start By Saying, for last week's thought provoking perspective from the USA. Did it make you think too?

This week I'm delighted to welcome the Mum of Sindri Blogger from Reykjavik in Iceland. I spent some time in this amazing city many years ago and reading this post brought back wonderful memories of geysers, glaciers and the land of the midnight sun. There are some stunning photographs on this blog so grab a cuppa something hot, have a read below and then pop over to enjoy them. Oh and don't forget to say "Hæ!" (hi!) from me. (How educational is this series? You even get to learn a new word.) Happy reading.

I'm the 35 year old Swedish mom of Icelandic blogger Sindri (4 years) and his little sister (10 months). We live in an old house in downtown Reykjavík, Iceland. We have a tiny 46 square feet apartment with one bedroom and a sleeping loft. 

We spend a lot of time travelling around Iceland taking pictures. We decided having children shouldn't keep anything we love doing on hold. We've had no problems taking them along. Sindri went on his first jeep trip to a mountain cabin 5 weeks old. A friend of ours literally came to that same cabin straight from the delivery room and popped in for dinner when her daughter was just to become 2 days old! There is no traffic in the highlands and no need to find a parking spot. You just stop on the spot when you need a break. I hope the kids will grow up to share our love for our beautiful nature and appreciate our experiences as a family. We're putting more efforts into our travels than buying them all the fancy toys or a big home. When it comes to parenting I don't believe in having too many rules and boundaries. I want my kids to have a fun and pleasant every day life. I don't want to be nagging all the time. They didn't ask to be thrown into our daily life. There are few problems that we can't solve with humour. When they keep their mouths shut at tooth brushing time you just brush their belly or ears until they open their mouth. I try to take a deep breath and think outside the box. It's often we parents that are creating the "problems".
At the moment we work shifts for one of us to be able to stay at home at all times until the baby can get into a public playschool. That usually happens about the age of two. Parental leave in Iceland is nine months, three of which belong to the mother, three to the father and the rest can be divided as they see fit. However due to economic problems after the crisis in 2008 most fathers can no longer afford to stay at home so if you are an average family you end up with only six months of parental leave since the mother is not allowed to take over the father's days. So much for equality.

On a regular day we walk a lot around the city center. It's a such a privilege being able to walk everywhere, to daycare, to the store, to work. Hopefully that makes up for our super jeep trips, environmental wise. It's perfect to have everyone you know within 15-20 minutes drive, grandparents, friends and family. Reykjavik being the only bigger city in Iceland where most people live, it would still be regarded by most as a small town. People definitely do not make a fuss about having babies. One of the first things I noticed was that you saw much younger mothers than I was used to from Sweden. You'll also find Icelandic people leaving their sleeping babies more or less unattended outside their houses and in the main shopping street outside the shops and cafes. Crime rate is low. If you would steel a car or a baby there would be no where to go. An old lady got mugged last week and it was on the main news. Things like that never happened in Iceland. Police do not carry guns. In my sons playschool there is a kid whose parents moved here from Portugal without knowing anyone here just to bring up their kids in a relatively crime free environment.

I love being able to get out into the unspoilt nature for the weekend, having the scarcely inhibited breathtaking countryside just a short drive away. However people are deeply affected by the bank collapse and big debt the country is now in. Food prices have gone up maybe 60 percent since 2008. Salaries have gone up approximately 4 percent. In Iceland there are limited possibilities to rent a flat or a home. Everyone I know has a home loan. The home loan system is of an ancient kind that has no similarities in other European countries that I know of. Your home loan increases with inflation. Due to the last year's economic crises and high inflation people pay more and more and their loans get bigger and bigger.

The government has corrected or cut the loans for the big important people that had borrowed fantasy amounts for speculations and for the people that took too many loans to start with and most people would have regarded as reckless even before the crisis hit. The middle class that struggle and are still able to pay put up with their increasing debts. I hope I will be able to stay in my favorite country. Many Icelanders are now moving away to Norway, Denmark and Sweden.

I'm sharing some pictures from a family jeep trip in August. It's a quiet, funny family portrait including our car, my boyfriends two brothers cars and their parents car in one of our "in the middle of the road" stops.

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Would you like to write a guest post for Parenting Around The Planet? Drop me a line at bodfortea(at)gmail.com.

I'm in love...

...again. Oh fickle me, I have sinned through lusty thoughts of another. Even as you sit her beside me I'm dreaming of another. I'm coveting my neighbour's changing bag.

But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. You should know the beginning. I've written about my search for the perfect changing bag before and I loved the Storksak Emily from afar. I stalked her online from the other side of the world and imagined myself using her when we finally returned home. If she was good enough for Angelina Jolie, she was good enough for me. I wanted her to be perfect and so she was. Chocolate brown loveliness with a big dash of practicality all for £89. I can honestly say this is the best of the changing bags I've used in the past two years and the one that looks least like a baby bag. Not that there's anything wrong with the fru-fru and pink and flowers and everything, but it's just not for me. I don't do fru-fru.

There's loads of room inside for all my bits and bobs, a wipe clean durable satin exterior (that feels more like nylon) and a lighter also wipe clean interior with lots of pockets and a key holder (which I cut off actually as I kept getting it caught in the zip. Don't let that put you off, I'm just cackhanded). There's a change mat included, two front zip pockets for your phone, tissues and lollipops for that moment, plus two ingenious insulated pockets at each side for bottles. As DD doesn't and has never drunk milk from a bottle (not from want of trying, I might add) so I use one for DD's water bottle and the other for sun cream, two things I'd rather keep away from my Mulberry purse. See? The only criticism I have is that the handle is too long. I have worn it across my body sometimes but I want the option of wearing it as a handbag too, snuggled right under my arm, rather than banging about on my hip. So I added a couple of holes to the strap with my leather hole puncher and secured the extra length of strap to the bag with some heavy duty velcro. You'd never know. And voilà, the perfect bag.

Until now.

Welcome to my new love. Her name is Lily. She lives at Sugarjack who have lots of other lovely bags too. Isn't she just drop-dead gorgeous? A vision in burnt orange leather with lots of pockets and a pop-out removable liner so that you can use the bag as a handbag when the little one is old enough to carry her own gubbins about. I almost don't care how practical she is but she sounds very practical indeed with a thermal insulated bottle holder, luxury changing mat (for the bottom that has everything), plastic zip pouch for wet things, and a nylon and leather detachable zip pocket pouch for storing small items.  I am hearting her BIG STYLE.

But I just simply cannot justify the hefty £249 price tag. *Sniff* So unless someone at Sugarjack is feeling uber generous and wants to send me Lily to road-test (I would take really good care of her and stroke her and everything, honest), I shall continue to love her from afar.


This is absolutely NOT a sponsored post. I bought Emily with my own hard earned cash. Neither Storksak or Sugarjack have asked me to write this review. You just do crazy things when you're in love. Images courtesy of Sugarjack and Storksak.

Silent Sunday

Reasons to be cheerful

Cough, cough, ouch! Yep, still got the chest infection and still got the cracked rib. Might even be pneumonia according to the doc. But I am determined to stay cheerful. Urm....

1. Mummy 'n' me baking. On Tuesday DD and I made gingerbread men and teddy bears together (you can see the results on Silent Sunday). OK, more chocolate buttons and mini marshmallows were eaten than ended up as buttons and eyes but hey, that's all part of the fun! OH got a Daddy size one and MIL had a teddy bear. Everybody loves baking day (except my waistline *sigh*).

2. New windows. Gulp. Today some men will come into our house and bash it about with hammers. Fear not, it's all planned maintenance as we're finally changing our old knackered windows with shiny new ones. Goodbye shelling out the £££s on painting every couple of years and hello to just wiping with a cloth. Wheee! (Let's not think about the mahoosive disruption to DD's nap routine for a moment. Ok, so she won't nap for a week probably unless I walk her up and down the village in the buggy but that's the price you pay for shiny new glass. And besides, I'm supposed to be being cheerful here *slaps wrist*.)

3. Weekend me-time. I've got a manicure and a reflexology session booked for this weekend which means some lovely all-on-my-own snoozing me-time. Now following this post earlier in the week I just need to decide whether to say thank you...

P.S. I'm also uber excited to have some exciting guest posters on the way from Iceland, India and Malaysia for my global perspectives series Parenting Around The Planet. Woo hoo!

Do you have reasons to be cheerful this week? Pop 'em down and link 'em up over at this week's decidedly upside down linky over at the lovely Mich's place Mummy From The Heart.





Image: Rawich / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I keep her in a box

I got excited when I saw this week's prompt over at Sleep Is For The Weak. Josie is such a talented writer that I'm enticed to join in with her weekly writing prompt just for the pleasure of basking in her writerly halo as it casts a faint glow over my forlorn page. (Errrr... I digress. In a particularly stalkerly fashion. Sorry 'bout that. I blame the drugs.) This week's prompt is collections. 'Great!' I thought. I collect all sorts of things. But when I actually got down to it and wracked my brain to figure out what those 'all sorts of things' were I realised that I don't collect anything at all. If anything I'm an un-collector.

I think it's partly because I don't like clutter. Part of me longs for a sleek white-walled zen-like existence where there's a place for everything and everything sits very politely in it's place. But if you took a quick glance around my house you'd see we're not quite there yet. Like by a million miles. So I keep that part of me locked in a box and only let her out to shout at OH when he leaves six pairs of shoes by the front door or when the pile of magazines by the side of the bed that he's already read AND WILL NEVER READ AGAIN IS TOO HIGH! You see? Back in your box Mrs. Caaaalm down.

I don't really remember collecting much as a child either. I don't have boxes full of Barbie dolls and her minions. I don't have antique bric-a-brac from car boot sales littering the loft. I don't have walls full of pictures by the same artist that I've scoured Ebay for. And I don't have keys by the dozen (although if I did I would SO donate them to Josie for The Twitter Key Project).

If anything I collect my thoughts. Every morning before the house wakes up and wants coffee or cereal or a new nappy before the old one bursts its banks, I open my writing journal, turn to the morning pages tab and put pen to paper collecting the flotsam and jetsam that's bobbing about in my brain. Then I shut the book and get on with my life. (AKA logging onto Twitter.) Sometimes, and particularly at the moment when the painkillers for my cracked ribs kick in, I wonder what my collected thoughts get up to in those closed pages. Tea parties or raves? Car boot sales or conferences? Do they wear name badges? (Hello my name is Collections, I was written on a wet Wednesday in October.)

I wonder if I should start collecting something, and if so what? I don't have the room in my kitchen for pretty china cups (and besides, the fiddly bits annoy me). I could collect stationery I suppose, but it would be a shame to see it sitting there all unused when there's always a perfectly good letter waiting to be written. So no, I think I shall stick where I am, the un-collector and leave the real collecting to the experts. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a split personality to get back into her box.

Written for the writing prompt Collections over at the Writing Workshop on Sleep Is For The Weak.


Image: nuttakit / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Parenting Around The Planet - USA

Welcome back to this new series of guest posts from mummy and daddy bloggers around the World. Big shout out and thanks to Sharon DeVellis, aka Speed Skating Mom, for last week's chucklesome perspective from Canada. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

This week I'm delighted to hand the reins over to one of my favourite bloggers. Kim over at Let Me Start By Saying makes me belly laugh each week with her Things I Said series. But she's also an uber talented writer and she's working on a book. A real-life offline book. I know! Here's how she describes herself:

Kim is a girl who believes that being a SAHM, wife, and wannabe writer would be easier if life would stop chucking things at her head. Like lemons. And poop.

See? I told you. You call follow Kim on Facebook and Twitter. In the meantime, sit back and enjoy Kim's perspective on parenting in the USA.

My days begin with coffee and a quiet house in Northeastern USA.
I prepare the breakfast, then myself.
Then the kids wake up.
I take them to school five minutes away, where they get a great education for free, surrounded by children and teachers and staff of all different backgrounds, races, religions who work together seamlessly.
I know they are taught tolerance, understanding, respect in school, are challenged and encouraged, corrected and praised.
Our afternoons are full of luxuries like well-oiled soccer practices that guide kids to be competitive and fair at game time, dance classes that encourage belief in your own strength, free time at playgrounds designed to be both adventurous and safe.
I live in a land of opportunity and options.
I feel very lucky.
I also feel frustrated.
Because with options come opinions.
With the ability to raise your kids however you want, wherever you want, it’s hard to stand firm in your decisions.
So some try to knock others’ parenting decisions down.
Some try to get ahead by stepping on their communities by force.
Parents placing kids in school a year late so they’ll be the biggest, strongest, smartest in their class, for the edge 14 years from now, when they enter college at the head of the others who started on time.
Conversations at the park that are filled more with quotes from books by experts on feedings, parenting, bathing, breastfeeding, cooking, educating, and sleeping rather than a natural flow of life experience.
Private schools rising in elegant brick, offering exclusive memberships on heavy cream letterhead with a fat price tag.  Members of these schools looking down at their noses at those few families who attend on scholarship, or others who can’t afford to send their children at all.
Parents who cringe in revulsion at those who don’t fastidiously avoid all television, recycle everything they touch, sew their own diapers, and live completely green lives like they do.
Young kids who have no free time for the playground, because their schedules are packed with sports, languages, arts, music lessons of the parents’ choosing.  Leaving no chance for their children to stand on their own, discover mud pies, finger a rosy autumn leaf, happen upon a new sport in a neighborhood pick-up game.
Comparing and contrasting.
Taking an extreme position on something, just to be assigned a label.  To fit somewhere.  To join a team.
Us versus Them.
Deliberately making every experience a competition, so you have a chance of proving your decisions were the best.
I understand it’s hard to make parenting decisions.  This is why I am always watching, asking, wondering aloud.
We have the opportunity to try pretty much anything.
Which sends some parents into a tailspin, because they want to be right.
And what I want to shout?
Is that we are all right.
And we are all wrong.
Instead of dividing, debating, proving one another wrong, how about we shut up and listen to one another?
How about we all confess that we want the best, but have absolutely no clue what that might be?
Living in the Land of Opportunity is a wonderful thing.
It’s just too bad that so many people simply can’t handle it.

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Would you like to write a guest post for Parenting Around The Planet? Drop me a line at bodfortea(at)gmail.com.

Please don't complain

Credit: Joke 7x24

Please don't complain so loudly...

...about your swollen ankles and your aching back

...about the sleepless nights and indigestion

...about your growing belly not fitting into your clothes

...about having to do pelvic floor exercises (your bladder will let go whenever you cough or sneeze regardless of how many you do, necessitating that you wear protection everyday like some sort of geriatric gangsta, trust me)

...about not being able to decide which baby name goes best with the one you've already got

...about your midwife/health visitor/doctor

...about wanting this or that baby accessory but not being able to get it in the right shade of azure to go with your freshly painted nursery

...about being told you're having a boy/girl when you really wanted a girl/boy

...about the birthing pool being closed for maintenance on your due date (do you really think it will happen on exactly that day?)

...about not being able to eat your favourite foods while you're piling that cream cake into your mouth

Please just be totally, utterly overjoyed that you're pregnant and spare a thought for those who, despite all their best efforts, thousands of pounds, tears of frustration, anger and finally resignation, are not.

"Don't complain because you don't have. Enjoy what you've got." H. Stanley Judd. 

Silent Sunday

Reasons to be cheerful - the drugs edition

I am all discombobulated this morning. Got up late, coughed a bit, realised I'd gotten up late and felt annoyed. Remembered that I'd set my alarm later so that I could get a bit more shut-eye to try and get over this annoying chest infection I've picked up. Coughed a bit more. Then remembered that I've also cracked a rib from coughing so much. Ouch! Bleary eyed and seeking out coffee like a mouse searching for cheese I tiptoed downstairs and realised it was Friday today. Time to write about my Reasons to be Cheerful. Mmm... going to be a hard one this week. Well, here goes:

1. Drugs. Ok that's going to get the spam filters creaming themselves. But the reason that I'm even mildly cheerful is thanks to the wonders of modern medicine. Anti-biotics and painkillers are my new best friends. Now I just have to wait for them to kick in...

2. Grandparents. I know they were on my list last week too, but this time it's not just for the look of joy in DD's eyes when she realises that she's going to see them, but the look of joy in my own when I realise I'm going to get a break. An extra pair of hands at the moment is most welcome.

3. Family lunches. The whole Bod for tea tribe is popping over for lunch this weekend and it will be lovely to catch up with everyone and have a real family get together. I'm making a huge fish pie. Yum.

Do you have reasons to be cheerful this week? Go on, scrabble around for a bit of positivity and link up over at the lovely Mich's place - Mummy From The Heart



Oh and before you go, I'm going to shamelessly plug my new guest post series Parenting Around The Planet. If you've got a mo check out this week's fab perspective from Canada.

Image: markuso / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Parenting Around The Planet - Canada

Welcome back to this new series of guest posts from mummy and daddy bloggers around the World. First of all a big thank you to C is for Capetown for last week's perspective on parenting from South Africa. Having lived in China for three years I could relate to her description of living in a continual dichotomy and the roller-coaster ride of parenting.

Missed last week? Wondering what this is all about? Get the low down on Parenting Around The Planet.

For this week's perspective we're moseying over to Canada. Sharon DeVellis is a mother, wife, writer and editor who can uncork a wine bottle in less than 10 seconds but buys twist-offs for emergencies. You can read about the deep, dark, grammatically incorrect intimate details of her life at The Inside Scoop or how she decided to become a speed skater at the age of 41 at Speed Skating Mom.

So, without further ado, over to Sharon...

Speed Skating Mom

When I was first asked to write about parenting in Canada, my mind drew a blank. Canadians are a mix of people from around the world blending together to create a culturally diverse country. How do we parent differently from the rest of the world? And then I got to thinking about all the Canuck stereotypes that are out there:

· We live in igloos
· It’s always winter
· Dogsleds are our main mode of transportation
· We say “eh”, “oot”, and “aboot”
· We drink a lot of beer
· We’re hockey fantatics
· We’re extremely polite

While some are completely untrue (summers are hot and our houses have four walls and a roof), and some are partially true (a cold beer on a hot day is heaven and yes, people do get a little hockey crazed), the one that really is dead-on is how polite we are.

Even as a little girl I remember how if someone bumped into me, I’d apologize. I used to wonder where this innate sense of politeness came from. Then one day at the kindergarten play area, I saw with my own eyes.

Since the beginning of the school year, my friend Kara* had been telling me how her son was having a problem with one of the kids in his kindergarten class. Her son was a quiet, gentle soul and this other boy was more rough-and-tumble. Yet for whatever reason, Mr. Rough-and-Tumble was drawn to her quiet, laid back little guy. The outcome never ended well and her son had been coming home in tears more and more frequently. Kara talked to her son and taught him how to use his words to let Mr. Rough-and-Tumble know that this wasn’t his type of play. She even spoke to the teacher but to no avail. Kara was reaching her breaking point….and then it happened. We were standing at the fence watching the kids line-up to go into school for the day and Mr. Rough-and-Tumble deliberately shoved Kara’s son - hard. He stumbled into the kids in front of him but managed to hold his balance. He turned and looked at his mom, tears in his eyes.

Kara’s face turned red as she gripped the fence, leaned over and yelled as loud as she could “Tell him NO THANK YOU!”

While most of the stereotypes about us are not true, one thing is for sure, we really are a polite bunch, eh.

*Not her real name

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Would you like to write a guest post for Parenting Around The Planet? Drop me a line at bodfortea(at)gmail.com

Babysitting or parenting?

So I came downstairs yesterday morning, dripping with sweat (and rather smelly actually, but that's probably tmi) after finishing a particularly boring but still knackering half-hour cycle on our Ebay purchased spinning bike. As usual I automatically thanked OH for watching DD while I was away. I'm lucky I suppose, every week I manage to get a spin session, manicure or whatever, some precious me-time to unwind and recharge, while he plays with DD and generally ensures she doesn't stick the nearest metal instrument into a socket or pour squash onto our new carpet.

And then I got to thinking.

OH doesn't thank me when he's had a couple of hours in front of the TV on Saturday afternoon while DD and I paint the kitchen floor masterpieces.
Or at dinnertime when I'm persuading DD to eat a mouthful of whatever I've put in front of her.
Or at bathtime when I'm chasing her round the house trying to get her clothes off.
Or at bedtime when I'm trying to ignore the new need a drink of water/need Bonjella/need new nappy delay tactics (impressive for a two year old I feel).
And I don't expect him to. That's just what I do. That's being Mummy.

We picked our roles traditionally when we became parents. I stay home and OH goes out to work. I'm totally fine with that, it works for us.

But raising a child is a joint responsibility regardless of the role that you play. I feel it's only polite to thank anyone for letting me have a little time out, but I'm left wondering... when a working partner babysits while the stay-at-home partner takes a break, is that babysitting or is that just, in fact, parenting?

Image: jscreationzs / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Silent Sunday

Fussy Eaters Support Club - October

Can you believe the fabulous Indian Summer we're having? We celebrated with a BBQ last night and I was over the moon when DD asked 'Amelia have one of those...?' pointing to the plates of yumminess on the table. Woo hoo! I thought. When I realised she was pointing to the barbeque sauce and just wanted to lick it off her finger I admit I was a tad disappointed. Still, we soldier on. This week she tried a raspberry for the first time in return for getting some more orange juice (her current fav food). Sounds like a small step. But this way mountains are climbed. 

How are you all getting on with your little one's eating habits? Any hints and tips to share since we last got together? Link up and share your stories...

Here's a reminder what the Fussy Eaters Support Club is all about...

One of the things I love most about blogging is knowing that I'm not alone in the the trials and tribulations of mummyhood. A problem shared is a problem, well not quite halved, but it's certainly a lot less stressful knowing there are some other rowers in the same boat as you. My current trial du jour is the seemingly never-sending saga of DD's fussy eating habits. We've tried puree, we've tried baby-led weaning, we've tried eat-this-or-nothing, we've tried it all.

I got to thinking that there must be other Mummys and Daddys out there who have the same goal that I do; for DD to eat as much as she wants of what we're eating as a family, but to at least eat some of it. Perhaps we can support each other? And so the Fussy Eaters Support Club was born. Each month (or so) I'll post up a linky thingy for anyone with a fussy eater to air their story, share recipes and their tips for what works (and what doesn't), to celebrate their fussy eater successes or to just have a good old fashioned whinge about it all.

Welcome! 

The Fussy Eaters Support Club doors for OCTOBER are now open!

Image: Stuart Miles / FreeDigitalPhotos.net