End of an Era

Today was the first day I ventured out of the house with Jaguar in "big boy" pants.

(He did great for the first part of the day at the gym, not so great later. Eek. Cringe.)

Regardless, the end is in sight. He's two and a half, so yes, he could still be wearing diapers for a while yet, but I have a feeling we're getting close to actually being totally potty trained. He's almost there. It's the end of an era.

Which got me thinking... Jaguar is my End of Eras baby.

A few months ago, I bought him a new stroller. The one we'd brought over with us from Scotland had finally taken it's last stroll. As I paid the cashier more money than I really wanted to pay, it occurred to me: This is the last time I'll ever buy a stroller. At least until I'm a grandma.

And about six months ago, just a few weeks after his second birthday, I breastfed him for the last time. It was unceremonious. I didn't realize it was the last time. I can't even remember when the last time was, it was so unceremonious. We had just finished. It was over. It wasn't until at least a month later when I realized: I'm done breastfeeding. I'll never breastfeed again. Not even when I'm a grandma.

I packed away his cloth diapers a few months ago. He's too big for them now. I don't have the heart to get rid of them just yet, but no one in this family will ever wear them again. The end of my cloth diaper era.

He's in his own bed now. No more cribs.

He drinks out of cups now. No more sippys.

And now he's potty training. Soon, no more diapers.

(Which, incidentally, hurray!)

Happy as No More Diapers makes me, it's also the end of yet another babyhood era in our family. The McFarlane babyhoods are nearly complete. Never again (lord willing and the creek don't rise) will there be another baby in this family. No more breastfeeding. No more baby-led weaning. No more baby-wearing in slings. No more bed-sharing. No more cribs, sippy cups, bibs, muslins. No more diapers.

It's a relief, but it's also kind of sad. We're soon to be a family of kids. Of school-age kids. I mean, in six months, Jaguar will be old enough for pre-school. PRE-SCHOOL. In just over two years, we'll have a child in middle school. MIDDLE SCHOOL.

I don't care if it's a cliche, it's totally freaking true - Kids grow up so fast!

I never shed a tear over Jaguar's last breast feed, the way I did over Lolly's and especially Fifi's. I'm not feeling weepy now either over the end of this baby era. I know I'm truly ready now to say goodbye to our family's babyhoods. But it's sobering. We have only this one life to live and one chance to live it, and, well, a really special part of my life is just about over, never to be repeated. I'll soon be the mother of school children, then teenagers, then college students, leaving me an Empty Nester. And Scott and I will be that old couple who look at each other in our empty house and wonder, "What the heck happens now?" And we'll plan to travel the world, except one of the kids will announce they are having a baby, and we'll suddenly be grandparents instead of globtrotters, and we'll be cool grandparents until our bones get too achy and we can't see through our cataracts and then, at some point, we'll just die.

End of an era indeed.

Okay, feeling a little weepy now.

Seven Years a Daughter Makes Seven Years a Mum

Not to expose your true feelings to an adult
seems to be instinctive from the age of seven or eight onwards.
George Orwell
Tomorrow is Fifi's seventh birthday.

Really, how have seven years gone by? I look at my toothy, trendy, talkative teenybopper and wonder where the tripping, tubby toddler went. How could I possibly have a seven year old, and how is it possible I've been seven-years a mummy?

With Fifi at school all day, I feel I don't get to connect with her as well as I used to. I feel her slipping through my motherly grasp, learning things I never taught her and discovering interests I never instilled. She's becoming her own person, with emotions I don't always understand, stories she keeps to herself, and experiences all her own. I miss the oneness we used to share, when we spent all day together with jigsaw puzzles and baby dolls. Now we only see each other on evenings and weekends, and at those times she just wants to watch TV shows and read books by herself.

I didn't expect for my first born to grow so independent so soon. I imagined we'd still be sitting side by side, playing pretend, coloring with crayons.

She still likes playing pretend - though her imagination is much more grown up now - and she still likes to color - drawing made up inventions that do wild and wacky things.

There's also me. I've grown away from her in a sense too. While she goes off to school, adapting her life to suit herself and friends, I'm at home lassoing Lolly and chasing Jaguar. My energy is spent by 3pm, and I don't give her as much attention when she gets home as I'd like to be giving.

I know children grow up fast, but seven years seems an awfully short time to feel you're already losing your babies!

Tomorrow is Fifi's birthday party. She wanted to invite nearly everyone from her class. She wanted to invite the boy who never gets invited to parties and the new girl. She has a heart of gold. She is oscillating between feeling like a child and feeling grown up; she wants to have a fairy-themed party but said making balloon animals was 'babyish'. She wants a fishing rod and a weave-your-own-bracelet set but also asked for a Barbie. My little girl - still so little, yet also so big.

I love who she's turning out to be, but it scares me to think that once the children go to school, I'm setting them loose to develop without me. My influence is still there, at home, and I'm sure it's still strong, but there's no denying the influence of their peers is huge too. I can see why people home school. It seems five, six, seven years old is too young to let them go so freely. When I think that I only have seven more months with Lolly before she too heads off to school and starts breaking our special ties, I'm terrified. After Lolly, there will only be Jaguar; give him another four years, and they will all be off on their own wee paths. Fifi will be almost a teenager.

I feel desperate to grab hold of her and hold on to the years. Keep knowing her, keep sharing with her and talking to her. Keep in touch with her feelings and her experiences as she grows and has her own life apart from the one we share at home. I want to turn off the after-school TV more and read more of her stories, work more jigsaws, play more board games. I want to stay connected with my seven year old so when she's eight, nine, nineteen, we'll still be connected.

I know I can't slow down time, lasso Lolly less or keep Jaguar off the coffee table. Therefore I know I'll often be short of energy and patience. I'll have days where the TV is my savior and the kids in closed rooms will be a sanctuary (even if to them it's a prison cell). I know I can't be as in tune with the needs of my seven year old schoolgirl as I am with my one year old baby, but I plan to make more of an effort. Spend more one-on-one time with her. Make our moments count. With Fifi in school nine hours a day, and sleeping another twelve, the quality of our time together will have to count more than quantity.

In the morning, she'll wake up a seven year old girl and I'll wake up a seven year old mum. It's a birthday for both of us. I hope I'm maturing as beautifully as she is.

Baby Con-TRAP-tions

Today was a very special day. Today, Lolly and Jaguar met the 'real Santa'. He had a real beard and all. And a very fancy suit, not one of those cheap ones. He had the glasses, he had the boots, he had it all. Except for the reindeer. Lolly was seriously worked up over the lack of reindeer and how he got here from the North Pole without his sleigh. Cover nearly BLOWN.

The Real Santa came to our library this morning. For the first year, Lolly gladly sat on his knee and told him what she wanted. Powerpuff Girls, of course, and a unicorn. Jaguar also sat in his lap, tear-free. He was highly curious of Santa when he came in, yet more dubious as we approached him. I hinted to Santa that Jaguar would willingly come if bribed with a candy cane. Sure enough, when Santa held out that sweet treat, Jaguar toddled right over and allowed Santa to pull him up on his lap for a picture.

Isn't he a jolly old soul?

CANDY.

(It's been said before, but it must be said again - WHY do we think it's okay to sit our little children on the laps of men we've never met before at Christmas, after telling them all year long to avoid getting overly chummy with all the rest of the world's creepy strangers?)

Fifi almost ended up at the library with us. Last evening, she started complaining of an earache and running a mild temperature. She was acting truly miserable which clued us in that it was for real. She had red cheeks, she whimpered in her sleep. I was sure she had an ear infection. I was all geared up for keeping her off school this morning to arrange a doctor's visit, and since ear infections aren't contagious, taking her to the library with us. But she awoke this morning fairly bright and said it didn't hurt really any more, so we think maybe it was just trapped water or the cold weather or something.

Banoffee wasn't so lucky. We found Banoffee this morning lying in the tissue box clutching a baby doll surrounded by used tissues and cold medicine. We decided to give him a day off elf duties and let him sleep it off. Hopefully he'll be back to his usual cheeky elf self tomorrow.


(And once again, idea stolen. It just happened to really work really perfectly into our lives yesterday.)

We were busy most of the day any way. School started an hour later this morning, so after school drop off, running a few errands, and getting some bits and bobs at Walmart, we came home, made pizza for lunch, and Lolly and Jaguar watched TV while I got out the sewing machine to work on a project (to be discussed post-haste). Then this evening, I made yummy broccoli soup and cornbread for dinner and the girls had an indoor Treasure Hunt as their Advent Activity.

MY KIDS IN JAMMIES SLAY ME.

I stole the idea a few years ago from some website, so I can't credit it here. I hope through the years I've changed the little poems enough that it's not TECHNICALLY plagarizing, but I'm probably still committing a crime posting it. If anyone ever discovers its true origin, tell me where I find it and I will link the crap out of it, because it was awesome. The little poem clues I used are are the bottom of this post if you want to use them. The kids had to follow the clues all around the house to find an early Christmas present. Originally, that present was going to be homemade Powerpuff Girl dolls, one for each child, but when Fifi drew the ticket out of the Advent calendar this morning, I remembered I had not yet even attempted making them yet. I had another idea instead... magnetic paper dolls. But Walmart was out of magnetic printer sheets, so I had to think up something else again. The kids love board games, so I slipped a Candyland box into the shopping trolley and wrapped it later when Lolly was busy watching Bubbles, Blossom and Buttercup save the world for the bazillionth time. The kids had a great time running all over the house responding to clues and then opening their present.






So... back to that sewing machine. What did I spend my afternoon doing, while my precious offspring rotted their brains with television (Netflix, to be exact)? I spent it devising and creating my secret nighttime weapon - the Jaguarator.


This toddler-sized sleeping bag idea came to me late in the night two nights ago as I lay staring at the ceiling, listening to Jaguar cry and crawl out of his crib every couple of minutes. I needed something that would make it impossible for him to hike his leg up over the crib, without actually tying his legs up, which just seemed a little ... child protective services. Then I remembered the sleeping bags babies sleep in and decided I could make one myself. I imagined up the pattern and the sewing order and what materials I'd need all night long while I didn't sleep.

I'd planned on making it out of thin fleece and lining it with cotton, but Walmart's fabric section only has so much, and I wasn't even considering heading into the metropolitan area to find a real fabric store. Lolly found this cute red polyester thick fleecy-type fabric with puppies all over and it was kind of perfect. It was a bit more expensive than some of the other things, but it was thick and soft enough not to need a lining, so the cost evened out. The fabric and the zipper together cost me $10. To buy one of these things manufactured from a shop we're talking so, so much more.

I came home, set up my mom's sewing machine and laid the fabric out to create a 'pattern'. And by 'pattern', I mean I totally eye-balled it. I took one of Jaguar's larger sleepsuits and laid it over the fabric to get an impression of how big it needed to be. I cut out a shape around the sleepsuit a few inches larger all around for comfort. I cut the front part in half so I could insert the zipper. I eye-balled the straps too, which were actually my biggest mistake.

When I cut out the straps, I folded the pieces in half to make them even on both sides, but when I unfolded it, I realized I'd made the neck room extremely tight. I started imagining the headlines: BABY STRANGLED BY OWN MOTHER'S HANDMADE BABY SLEEPER. So I started messing around with it, cutting the neck line lower in the front, almost into a v-neck. Finally I realized if I cut any more I was going to ruin the whole thing, so I just went with it. Once I'd put the whole suit together, and tried it on Jaguar, I discovered that not only would my original neckline have been already too gapey, but with the new cuts I'd made, it was huge. The baby would've been able to squirm right out of the top. I readjusted and tightended the straps, thankful I'd given myself so many extra inches at the bottom, and the bag fit perfectly.


Jaguar was able to walk around without tripping, but the real test was the crib. I placed him into the crib with a bright smile and stood in front of him, hands on hips, waiting to see what he'd do. Sure enough, that little leg came climbing up... and stopped. He couldn't get it any higher. He started pulling at the bottom of the bag to loosen it but it was firm! He was stuck! I plucked him up out of his crib with exorbitant glee. I win! I WIN!!!

However, I might want to refrain from counting my chickens before they are hatched. He's in his crib asleep right now in his warm blanket / baby trap. When he wakes up at 2am, we'll know for sure if the Jaguarator is a true success.


(No, this photo doesn't fit in anywhere, but it's so cute, right? Any guesses where he learned to handle a keyboard and mouse so eloquently?)

**And as promised...
The Indoor Treasure Hunt

Again, I have no idea where I found this on the web. It may have even been a collaboration from several sites. Please don't sue me, I have no money.

Cut out the clues and hang them in the right spots. Each clue will take them to the next spot with the next clue until they come to the end and find the treasure.

Follow this clue to a very cold place,
where ice cubes and popsicles fill up the space.
Go into the kitchen to solve this brain-teaser,
and open the door to the family’s _______.

Follow this clue to a very dark spot
Where bedding and linen and towels may be got
Go to the hallway (go there yourself)
The clue will be hidden up high on a ______.

Numbers and letters
combine on the screen,
where I made up this rhyme...
can you find the machine?

When you're feeling less than fresh
or you want to have a laugh,
you wash and get all squeaky clean
inside a warm bubble _________.

Dora, Peppa, Charlie and Lola -
are what the children like to see.
Shows like Gilmore Girls and Scrubs
are what Mummy puts on the ________.

This place is mostly filled with papers
that often bring you glee
Like letters and packages,
plus the bills you'd rather not see.

At breakfast and dinner
and sometimes lunch when we are able,
we set out the dishes and put out the food
and we gather around the kitchen ________.

Our cleans just keep getting dirty
and we put them here to get them clean.
We like to take turns pouring in the soap
and pushing the buttons on the washing _______.

Up and down, and up and down
you climb these every day.
You've likely seen the clue on these,
but passed it anyway.

This room is for the kids to sleep
when going to bed for the night.
Let's hope the bed is comfortable
and sheets are clean and white.

Be the first back to the room
where this hunt did begin
If you're the first you'll hear the words,
"Congrats, to you... YOU WIN!"

Baby Jaguar's First Birthday

 

It hardly seems believable that it's been a whole year since Master Jaguar was born. I remember the day so clearly; it could have been last month. But here we are, an entire world away from where we were then, on Jaguar's birthday.

There hasn't been much time for blogging since we moved here. Scott needs the computer most of the time for job hunting, and when he's not using it, we are usually busy doing other settling-in things. As much as I'd like to write a long, heart-felt post (and I do intend to later if at all possible), right now I'm busy making lunch, getting the girls dried off and dressed after playing in the pool, baking a birthday cake, and tidying the house before an old high school friend of mine and her little boy get here. Scott is busy cleaning out the pool. The Birthday Boy is busy playing with his new toy (and the poor kid has been relegated to the play pen while I do all the hot oven stuff). It's all go around here, all the time, despite my not having a job!

But I'll give you a quick birthday up-date. The wee man slept in (which meant I slept in!) until nearly 9. He opened his present from us, an elephant that blows baubles out his trunk. We all went to breakfast at Waffle House to celebrate. My aforementioned friend is coming over soon to play. The girls are going to Vacation Bible School tonight. Jaguar's actual birthday party will be on Saturday, which I will make a tremendous effort to blog about. He's been all smiles all day, and even took a wonderful nap earlier, allowing me to do paperwork while he slept. He's my perfect little ray of sunshine, that boy.

Happy birthday, Jaguar. You made this little family complete.

Picking Your (Green) Battles

Laundering a Rainbow

You'd have to live in a cave (or be a Republican) to maintain an unawareness of how our modern lifestyle is adversely affecting the environment. We burn - literally - valuable fuel by pumping it into cars so we can avoid walking a mile. We throw goodness-knows-how-much rubbish into landfills. We pollute our drinking water. We kill wildlife in order to build more buildings. We use copious amounts of chemicals. We throw antibiotics in the trash and create superbugs.  We use products that rely on radiation on a daily basis.  The list goes on and on.

When you start to think about all the ways we abuse our planet, it can become pretty overwhelming. You can start thinking of all the ways you could do your part, but then more issues creep in, and before you know it, you are trying to battle global warming singlehandedly, and you begin to feel like just one tiny oil-covered seagull in a vast ocean of poisoned, mutated fish. Or something.

So I comfort myself by picking my battles. I know I can only do so much, and I know I could never do everything I should to protect our earth, so I choose those issues that I know I can do something about, and I dedicate myself to those small things. I'm like that kid who threw the starfish into the sea one by one.  Or something.

For instance, I've started taking my unused prescriptions and medications to the pharmacy for proper disposal. (I'm willing to bet they 'properly dispose' of them by tossing them in the skip out back.) I teach the kids not to litter. I tear apart my plastic six-pack soda rings, so they don't end up around a swamp duck's neck. I don't pack my kids' lunches in disposable sandwich baggies.  I limit the amount of chemicals and anti-bacterials I use in the house, opting for natural cleaners and body products where possible. Fifi (and the Inverclyde Council) coerce me to recycle.

And I use cloth nappies.


IN THE INTEREST OF FULL DISCLOSURE, I am not perfect with my cloth nappy use. I am on my third child, and I've learned (and re-learned) a few things. When Fifi was a baby, I was very, very dedicated. Cloth all the way, near enough, with only a few exceptions, until she was over a year old. Then came Lolly, and the cloth lasted all of three months. I was exhausted and stressed with two under two, and I fell off the wagon.  So when Jaguar started cooking in my womb, I re-dedicated my life to the use of cloth nappies (and bought some new boy-themed ones to re-enthuse msyelf!) and have done a pretty good job of keeping up with it, with some exceptions. For instance, I do put him in disposables for bedtime, because I have yet to find a good all-nighter that works well enough, and sometimes I reach for the disposable out of laziness. But a majority of the time, Jaguar too wears cloth like his sister Fifi did.

Fifi in a Tots Bots Bamboozle

My reasons going cloth are many. I decided to use cloth nappies on Fifi, because I'd read they were better for babies' skin and better for the environment. I realised this was a tangible and real way in which I could do my part in Saving The Earth, saving a ridiculous amount of unrecyclable landfill waste, while treating my baby better too. Then I discovered that not only are cloth nappies better for babies and for the environment, they were mega cute to boot!

Jaguar in an eBay Bargain

I mean, just how cute is a baby's bum all wrapped up in a big bulky colourful nappy?! And how much nicer must it feel to them to have their special baby bits wrapped up in soft cotton fluffiness over papery disposable scratchiness? And how much fun is it to find adorable new nappies to add to your collection? I just love them.

I admit, cloth nappies do have their down-sides. You must change them more often. You have to actually deal with poop. You must wear trousers the next size bigger to accommodate the oversized bum. And of course, you have to factor in a bit of extra laundry. It's not for everybody, but that's precisely my point here.

We all have to pick our battles. If you have the energy and resources to tackle every single environmental issue yourself, then go for it! But if you, like me, simply find yourself lost in the hopelessness of it all and must decide which small contributions you can make, then choose what works for you. Cloth nappies work for me. Composting and growing your own vegetables might work for you. Making one's own clothes out of repurposed plastic shopping bags might work for someone else. The point is finding that small wee way we can do each do our own wee part to help keep our planet happy.


In the meantime, look how cute my ten-month-old boy looks with his adorable cotton bottom!

(Also, that green nappy in the above two photos? It's a Birth-to-Potty nappy, so that's him in it a few days old, and him in it still ten months later!)



P.S. Tell me, what are YOUR green battles?

A Week in the Cairngorms

So as I mentioned, Scott, Jaguar and I just spent five days in Kingussie, which is up near the Cairngorm Mountains. What a wonderful time we had! We stayed in a friend's holiday house (thank you again and again!), where there was wood-burning stove and no internet. I'm not gonna lie, I think we suffered a bit of internet withdrawal for the first couple of days, holding our phones up in crazy positions trying to get some mobile connections with which to check our emails and go on Facebook, but in the end it was kinda nice being away from the digital world.

Which is part lie because the house DID have basic TV channels, which to this no-TV family is a massive luxury. We watched plenty of "Come Dine With Me" and "Dinner Date" while we were there.

But mostly, we just enjoyed each other's company. Jaguar was a bit grumpy half the time, but still, Scott and I had a wonderful time of just reconnecting, talking, taking walks down the quiet little street, going to cool places (which you'll be able to read about soon enough on SearchScotland.org!) and buying daily foodstuffs at the local grocers. It was definitely a step forward in my 2013 goal of learning about simplicity.

This time of year in the Cairngorms is skiing season, so we were able to soak in the majestic beauty of the snow-covered mountains. It was awe-inspiring, breath-taking, my heart was full to burst - all the cliches that in this setting become alive and true again. I felt peaceful, happy and fully alive up there.

Maybe it had something to do with the thinner air, but it could also be just the slow-paced, quiet way of life in the mountains.

We visited the Highland Wildlife Park, the CairnGorm Mountain and its funicular railway, and ate delicious food at the Silverfjord Hotel and Auld Alliance (wee plugs there for SearchScotland again, reviews of all will be posted shortly... after I finish writing them). We read books. We took naps. Ahh what a week it was.

(Wondering where Fifi and Lolly were? Sunny Portugal. But anyway.)

Here are a few photos we took while away. No photos could do any of the sights justice, but I sure tried.

These are just some photos we took at the top of CairnGorm. It was so beautiful. I don't know how cold it was up there, but at the bottom of the funicular railway it was -5.5C, so I imagine it was much colder at the top. But it wasn't uncomfortably cold; it was really fresh and invigorating. Made me think learning to ski might actually be kinda fun.

A Pallas Cat at the Wildlife Park... trying to look so innocent while the murder victim lies right before his paws...

The monkeys at the Wildlife Park were my ultimate favourite. I love monkeys more than anything. It is my lifelong dream to hold and cuddle a baby monkey. I'm thinking seriously about getting a zoology course and becoming a zookeeper just so I can hold an orphaned monkey baby.

This mama monkey nursing her baby was just too much for me. They both looked so serene and peaceful sitting among all the baby monkeys playing rough-and-tumble (and the littlest baby stealing the patch of moss from the older monkey kids and the older monkey kids chasing it to get it back). I was captivated. I must have taken a million photos of this little couple. I don't believe humans evolved from monkeys, but I can sure see our resemblance. I wanted to sit down with mama monkey and talk childbirth and rowdy toddlers with her over a cup of coffee.



And finally the polar bears. Yes, there are polar bears at the Highland Wildlife Park (hey, I think I'm writing my review already!), it is their main attraction. We watched the polar bears wrestle and play for a long time too. It's such a thought, being that close to something so large and dangerous, separated only by a fence (and at this stage, a car, but at another part of the park, it was just a fence). The bears were great fun to watch, and again, I pretty much depleted my camera battery taking gazillions of shots of them. But I didn't have the same desire to play with them as I did the monkeys. Not quite.

Overall, it was a wonderful week. Now we're back home, and I'm looking forward to my darling daughters coming home tomorrow. Life can go back to its regularly scheduled programmes, but hopefully I'll be approaching it from a chilled out, happy place.

(Which reminds me, I've done really well with my-giving-up-negativity-for-Lent thing. But we'll see how it goes 20 minutes after the arrival of my inevitably hyper and exhausted daughters.)

Blessed With Peace

All the walls painted a blueish shade of white, desperate to appear homey instead of clinical, swelled inward around her, as if trying to subtly choke her without the midwives noticing. Visions and beliefs, once so clear, blurred and spilled over her eyelids in suffocating silence, something akin to grief.

She had plans for this baby; she was going to shape this baby's soul and nature with these plans. All she had imagined for eight endless months was birthing her precious child in love and tranquillity in the peace of her own darkened home, in a pool of warm calming water. She was going to have a baby associated with that element, a gentle, flowing water-child, soft and peaceful and able to love.

She was new to babies and birth but had done all she could to be ready for this moment. Well, not this moment, but the moment of her dreams and plans. This moment engulfed her, frightened her, grieved her. She was being told that there was no chance for a natural birth, let alone a homebirth or a waterbirth, and the section would be booked for 39 weeks gestation.

Hours later, she gathered the blankets around her body up to her neck in the late afternoon, pulled-curtains semi-darkness, and allowed the sadness to slowly and warmly trickle over her. She spoke quietly but audibly to her unborn baby, telling her all plans she had for her, apologising to her for what would have to take place, and blessing the child who could live thanks to the very technology and science that so frightened her. She prayed her baby could still be born into the serenity she imagined would mark the child's life, though her entry into the world would be far from serene.

The day was booked - 2nd of February, Groundhog Day. But instead, four days earlier, her body once again resisted her intentions and bled its warning. She was brave but only briefly. Bravery turned to concern which turned to anxiety as doctors waited, stoic experts. Tears once again, this baby more acquainted with fear now instead of peace. Finally, she was wheeled into the room, more blueish-white walls, more homelike-attempts, and she greeted the moment she would meet this child who had consumed her every thought. Please, God, let there be calm. Though this baby will not flow into the world as she should have, bless this baby with the gift of sweet peacefulness.

******
The girl born into blood-soaked hands in a room of bright lights and irrelevant chatter was indeed blessed with sweet peacefulness. Her mother's wishes were granted, not in the way she had wished them, but granted nonetheless. Her daughter flows through life with cheerfulness, joy, kindness and gentleness, along with comical clumsiness, like green water tripping over a stony, crooked brook, squirrels and bluebirds giggling nearby. She is indeed her mother's water-baby, pure and bright and deserving of her name: "white, fair" Fifi.

Happy sixth birthday.

Six Months!

The following post was written two weeks ago but never published. Since I've got the opportunity to go to bed early tonight (having accomplished so far goals 1 and 2 for the weekend), I'll just leave you with this wee post for today. Good night.

*******

11 January 2013

My goal this month has been to blog something every day, and when possible, blog something fairly interesting.

But how do I blog something interesting after having just folded five baskets of laundry?

(Truth. I only folded three. The other two are still waiting.)

So tonight I leave you with a little 'taster' (ha) of the baby led weaning returning to the McFarlane household after four years.

Baby Jaguar be's six months old!

(How? And I mean, when? Where? I just don't know. I honestly thought he was just in my tummy a minute ago.)

Weekly Shatter Chatter

Get it? Shatter?

I started this blog back in '03 (whoa.....) as a sort of narcisstic public journal. I later moved to Scotland and used it as a way to keep my family back in the States up-to-date with my life. Then it became about pregnancy and motherhood and then... it stopped. I've only recently picked it back up with an aim for writing more creatively and introspectively (ding ding, narcissism strikes again!) but also feel my old folks back home might still want a bit of McFarlane-family catch-up. So this is for them. You're welcome, Maw.

This week has been a busy one for us. After the ease of the Christmas holidays, I think we felt a bit of a jolt with everything starting back full force this week.

Monday morning was the kids' first day back at school. Getting out of bed was a feat. Luckily getting the children out the door was my only goal for the day, and we succeeded. I spent the morning wandering through the town with my good friend Laura, and after nursery, she and her two youngest kids came back to our house for lunch and a play.

Tuesday we woke up bright and early to head to Edinburgh. I was imagining another nice long lie-in until Scott and I started thinking through the logistics and realised we'd have to leave super early to beat rush hour traffic in both Glasgow and Edinburgh. We had appointments booked for 11am at the US Embassy to get the children *officially* registered as US citizens.

Because they were born to at least one US citizen parent (who had established domicile in the US), the kids are all entitled to US citizenship. Here in the UK we are happy to call it 'dual citizenship', because the UK recognises it, but the US does not. So as far as it's considered here, my kids are both UK and US citizens; the US sees them as belonging only to them. Anyway, so to actually officially claim that entitlement, we had to file paperwork with the Embassy and attend an interview. This can be done anytime before they are 18, but for some reason, the website says to get a Social Security number, they have to register before the age of 5. Fifi has actually been 5 for almost a whole year, and Lolly will be 5 next year, so we decided it was time to hurry up and get this taken care of.

So we spent the morning in a cramped little waiting room with a dozen other people, registering our three children's 'Consular Report of Birth Abroad', their US passports, and their Social Security number applications. (I will at some point in the near future devote a whole post to this process, which will hopefully be useful for people searching the 'net for information on this process.) It was quite efficient, actually, and we were out of their even earlier than I expected to be.

Since we were already in the neighbourhood, we had lunch at Judith and Craig's house. Judith is an amazing cook, so we've discovered, and she treated us to Greek-style burgers, a Greek salad, fried halloumi and pitta bread, followed by butterfly fairy cakes. It was delicious, and we enjoyed having another wee visit with them. All our kids had fun together too.

The kids were back to school and nursery on Wednesday, and Jaguar and I spent the afternoon at the hospital getting yet another kidney scan. He was diagnosed with a dilated kidney pre-birth, and they have been keeping an eye on it with scans since he was born. There has been no change, as in, the kidney is still dilated, so I will be arranging a visit with his pediatrician soon to discuss the situation. Doing my best to act positively, even though inwardly I'm wringing my hands and worrying myself silly.

Thursday morning was my first TinyTalk class since going on maternity leave, and it was great. I had a great wee group of mums and babies attend, and it reminded me how much I love baby signing. Thursday afternoon we were back at the doctor's with Jaguar again, this time to check up on his cough. He had bronchiolitis, and the GP wanted to have him back in to check up on his recuperation. Thankfully, the infection has cleared from his chest, his lungs are clear, and the cold is now just in his throat. He looks absolutely miserable, and when he coughs I stop breathing with him until he sucks back in that big gasp of air, but Doc says he's on the recovery side.

This morning, Friday, was my other TinyTalk class, and it too was a success. I love my Friday mums - so many loyal, returning families with whom I've become great friends outside the class, and today there were a few new faces too.

Also today... my little boy turns a whole six months old. I can hardly believe that exactly half a year ago already I was standing outside the Inverclyde Royal Hospital with amniotic fluid trickling down my legs, waiting for Scott to hurry and park the car so we could hurry up and go back home for a homebirth that ended up a blue-light trip to Paisley hospital! Half a year ago yesterday, Jaguar was still in my belly. Half a year ago today, he was out. Incredible.

Tomorrow we have nothing planned, except in some alternate fantasy world I think I might start tackling that whole Simplicity concept but realistically will sleep in until 11 and lounge around in pjs all day. Sunday Fifi has her first Sound of Music rehearsal, and I, if I can garner the motivation, am going to go for a jog with my friend Cheryl's jogging group.

My Bed

Tonight all I can say is Thank You For My Bed.

I'm off to join this little guy in it.

Good night.

The Language of Birth

I've been meaning to go through all my draft posts that for some reason or another never made it to the light of day. Several of them were worthless, like a couple of sentences started and never finished. Then others were fully written but never published and I don't know why.

Below is one such post, which upon re-reading I think is still good. It was written while I was pregnant with Lolly. It's about the language of birth.

****

Me several months pregnant with Lolly

I'm re-reading the birth stories in Ina May's Guide to Childbirth to give me some encouragement while I wait for the arrival of little Spooce. Ina May comments at one point that early in her career she felt free to change some of the words surrounding childbirth, the main one being her change of the word 'contraction' to 'rush'. Marie Mongan does the same in her book HypnoBirthing, changing 'contraction' to 'surge'. I'm sure many others have done the same.

I agree with what they've done. As a graduate in English, I recognise how much language affects our thinking and perceptions. Ina May says it doesn't make sense to use a word that implies tightening, when the purpose of contractions are to open and thin the cervix. While I still call them contractions myself - calling them rushes or surges just sounds too contrived for me, though I think they are perfectly acceptable to use as long as they make you comfortable - I think it's really important to use words that don't negatively affect you psychologically.

I'm thinking of this, because at my last ante-natal clinic, the midwife was on the phone with the hospital scheduling an appointment for me, and she referred to me as 'the woman who was very keen to have a home confinement'. (For the record, I'm not having a home birth now; I will be going to the hospital's midwife-led unit.) The phrase 'home confinement' irrates the crap out of me. Why does the medical community have to turn every phrase into something horrible sounding? Home 'confinement' sounds like house arrest. Why not just simply call it a home birth like everyone else in the world?

ODP Day 26: The Yodas On the Bus Say 'Use the Force'

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Baby Shower

Saturday was my baby shower, organised by the lovely Cheryl. It was seriously such a great party. I felt so incredibly touched to have had someone think to throw me a shower and then to have so many people show up.

Cheryl's mum hosted the shower at her beautiful home and provided tons of gorgeous food. There were crackers dressed with cucumber, cheese and sausage, vegetables and dips, crisps, scones with jam and clotted cream, tea and cold drinks. My sister-in-law also brought a dark chocolate mousse cake and some cookies, and I made an angel food cake, complete with fresh strawberries and cream.



(I wish I had a picture of Kate's chocolate cake. Oh my, it was heavenly.)

Cheryl organised several games, including 'Baby Bingo', a baby anagram, 'Pass the Parcel', a memory game (in which I got to keep all the items I remembered) and prediction cards where everyone predicted the baby's name, weight, time of birth, etc. Whoever ends up being closest gets a special present from me and Scott... that is, if we can find the cards, as they are currently MIA. Oops.

I also got loads of gifts. Opening presents in front of people now that I'm an adult is far more embarrassing than it was when I was eight. Luckily, I loved everything I got so there were no awkward embarrassing moments where I had to fake a reaction. Everything was lovely. I got mostly gorgeous clothes, but also a few really special items like a clay hand print kit, a 'baby keepsake capsule' and a hand-knitted jumper. It was all so thoughtful and wonderful.

You can click on the flickr set from the shower. Why I needed to post all the pictures, I don't know, as they mostly all look the same, me looking like a big stripey whale sitting in a chair making really terrible faces. I think maybe it's the variety of terrible faces that made me put each picture up. Or maybe laziness in not wanting to go through and choose the best (or worst) ones. At any rate, feel free to just look at a few and you'll get an idea of what the shower was like.

Also you can see my last week bump pictures. I'm sure I'll take some pictures before the birth and when I get to hospital and all that, but this is the last official week of my pregnancy... unless for some horrible reason they put it off and make me wait until Monday or something... oh my goodness I will die if I have to sit in a hospital over the weekend waiting to have this baby. Anyway, no dwelling on that, we'll just all assume that by this time Friday (9pm) I'll be cuddling my darling baby and all will be well and good.

I can't believe I only have three more days in my home to get ready. Notice the To Do list though... it is definitely dwindling!

Practice Makes Perfect

How To Fit a Mamabless Wool Wrap

By Sir Quackenbush III


Step 1: Prepare the Changing Mat


Step 2: Lay Naked Baby on Nappies


Step 3: Fit Nappy


Step 4: Fit Wrap Around Nappy in Impossible Way


Step 5: Be Impressed With Horrible Wrapping Skills

If Step 5 cannot be achieved, repeat Step 4 over.

Step 6: Make Sure the Back Part Is Right

If Step 6 has not been achieved, repeat Steps 4 and 5 over and over and over and over.