Snips and snails, and puppy dog tails.

~ by Kendal

When it comes to finding out the baby’s sex, there seems to be two types of people. There are those who are patient, who relish the surprise at the moment of birth, who find bonding with their unborn child easy, regardless of knowing whether they’re a Timmy or Tania. I am not one of those. I am the other kind of person – the kind that could not bear the idea of being able to know something so exciting and yet choosing not to.

I am simply not a very patient person. This seems to come as a surprise to a lot of my friends who have an idea of me as a super calm, super zen Mama who never gets cross. Of course this isn’t true, but when it comes to surprises, I genuinely have absolutely zero patience. None.

I am the kind of person who would rather watch a series of something back to back, over an intense period of time, than wait week by week. The kind of person who will buy a lovely big bar of Lindt and have eaten it by the time she’s left the shop and crossed the road.  So you can imagine, when it comes to the possibility of knowing what gender my baby is, there is simply no question. I want to know. Of course I want to know!

Those that do not find out, frankly, confound and impress me. I do understand the logic and I have contemplated what it must be like, at the moment of birth, to suddenly know whether your baby is male or female, but I just don’t understand how anyone can possibly wait so long.

After all, a surprise at 20 weeks is just as good at 40, no? And what’s more, the moment of birth is so monumental and overwhelming that the added surprise of gender seems superfluous to me. But the main reason, impatience aside, that my husband and I are both keen to know what the baby is, flavour wise, is because we both feel it makes it so much easier to round out this little person in our imagination.

To stop calling them it, or them, or Pillywiggin, as we have been, and start referring to the baby by name, seems like no small thing to us. With Ava, we started calling her Ava the moment we left the hospital, and by the time she was born, she was very much Ava to us, complete with an imagined personality which, strangely enough, turned out to be pretty accurate.

So, on Wednesday, we found out. We are having a boy. A boy! And funnily enough, I knew, without a shred of doubt, that this little one was going to be a boy. Even during the scan, when the sonographer was slowly going through his anatomy, measuring, analysing, I kept referring to him as ‘him’. I just knew. And I know how that sounds…because whenever I’ve heard someone say that in the past, my inner sceptic raises her head and eyebrows and thinks, ‘Hmm, well, sure, you think you know, but you have a 50% chance of being right so…’

I can’t even explain how it is that I knew. When we found out the baby was due in April, my first thought was that he was going to be a boy. (I’m a bit of an astrology nerd, and family astrology is of particular interest…Howard and his sister are October/April babies, as are Howard’s parents, and since Ava is an October baby it wasn’t a surprise at all we were due an April one next…)

Partly, too, it was down to how different this pregnancy has been. I have been a lot more sick, and that lovely second trimester surge of energy kicked in about two weeks ago as opposed to at 12 weeks when I was pregnant with Ava. I have been craving meat as much as I was disgusted by it with Ava, and I have generally just felt …different. It is hard, of course, to know whether that’s down to carrying a boy instead of a girl, or simply any number of other variables, like the fact I am looking after a toddler this pregnancy and am much, much busier and much more active. Or the fact that I am two years older. Or…well, you get the picture.

So, there we were on Wednesday, in a dark room. Me on a hospital bed with a rod poking my belly whilst Howard did his best to make the baby on screen seem interesting to a tired two year old, and as soon as the sonographer said, ‘See that, there? That’s a willy’’ and I thought, ‘Yes! I knew!’, I was also flooded with a whole wave of other emotions and thoughts which surprised me somewhat.

Things that, given my dislike of stereotypical gender roles and my attempt to discard them at any opportunity, I was surprised I was occupying. ‘What will I do with a boy? I don’t know boys. I can do girls. I have a girl. But boys?’ And, ‘What will he wear?’ ‘What toys will he play with?’ …and so on, and so on.

Every time I thought one of those thoughts, I also realised how absurd it was to think it. How some habitual, learned part of my brain was bombarding me with things I didn’t really think. With stereotypical gender ‘norms’ that I have never bought into and certainly don’t want to now. As a dear friend wrote to Ava when she was born, ‘There’s no such thing as ‘for girls’ and ‘for boys’. There’s just what you like and what you don’t.’

And I know this. I do, of course. I genuinely had no preference when it came to what sex this baby was, as sure as I was that he was a boy. But if I’m being totally honest, the reason I didn’t care is because I already have a girl, and in the film that has played out in my head since I was a child, the one where I fantasized and dreamed of being a Mama, it was always to a little girl. I’ve always felt relieved that we had a girl first, because on some basic level it ticked a box I had waiting to be ticked. I had always wanted a daughter.

And now, I also can’t pretend that knowing this wee one is a boy doesn’t add an extra level of excitement to this, my second child. After all, we’ve never been parents to a son, and whilst his anatomy might be totally irrelevant to what kind of person he will be, it’s still different and new. Something we haven’t yet experienced.

Recently, a friend pointed out that it is almost impossible, now being a Mama to both a girl and a boy, to tell whether the difference in their personalities has anything to do with their gender or simply personality, and a whole bunch of other factors in their environment. The fact that a second child is generally more chilled out (or so I’m told by friends and parenting books), because they don’t get the kind of 24/7 microscopic attention a first child does, or the fact that, as a second time parent, you are not quite as freaked out by everything, not quite as paranoid and nervous….these are all things that are bound to have a huge impact.

When I think of all the little boys and girls I know, it is certainly hard to make sweeping generalisations, although I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see some small, but common differences at times. For example, in general, the little girls I know are less likely to become aggressive in times of frustration than the little boys. I’ve read that this is, indeed, in part due to hormonal differences between girls and boys. Likewise, it’s always funny to be in a big group of children and notice that, as someone pointed out recently, all the little girls had found dolls or teddies and were playing quietly, whilst most of the little boys were running around, making more noise, and even banging things with sticks.

Yes, it was quite a startling difference that particular day, watching how very different the girls and boys were behaving. But of course, once again, it’s impossible to tell whether or not that’s down to gender or down to the way they are treated by parents and friends. If a boy is always encouraged to rough play, he will be more comfortable doing so. If a girl is always handed teddies and soft toys, she will most likely go to do the same. I suspect, of course, that like most things, it is a combination of all these factors. That gender may well play a role, albeit quite small, I think, in defining a person’s characteristics, but that it is other factors that have more of an impact on a developing personality.

The boys I know (like the girls) who are gentle and kind and introspective have parents who are like that, themselves. Or who, at least, are encouraging of them to be as emotive and sensitive as they would with any girl. And if you’ve met my daughter, you’ll know that she can be extremely energetic and boisterous. Whilst she seems to have next to no aggression in her (most of the time she is pretty calm and chilled out) she can be as physical and as excitable as any boy I know. She loves nothing more than throwing herself off chairs and down slides.

I’d like to think that by the time our son is born, I will have had enough time to contemplate how silly some of my learned gender assumptions are. Any time I think something about having to buy ‘boy clothes’ for example, I can remind myself that Ava dressed mainly in blues and reds and that so will he (until he is old enough to decide what colours he wants to wear) And not because those colours are gender neutral, but because there is no such thing as gender neutral colours since all colours are gender neutral. I just happen to dislike pink.

I am lucky enough, and very grateful, to know some exceptional people who just happen to be male. Some of them are young and are incredibly kind and gentle souls, some are full of energy and excitement and curiosity and I hope that we are the kind of people, with Ava and our son, who will always be able to look past what gender our children are and to take account of the whole person, whoever they may be. To encourage them to be whoever it is they want to be, without the need to behave ‘like a girl’ or ‘like a boy’, whatever that means.

Knowing that we are having a son won’t change anything about us. It won’t make us decorate his and Ava’s bedroom differently, or buy different toys. At most, it allows us to imagine what having a little boy is like, and to imagine what his personality may be, but really, this has little to do with gender and more to do with acknowledging that, although he may still be in utero, he is, after all, a whole, definite, important and unique person.

It is nice to be able to say to Ava that the baby is a boy and to hear her refer to the baby as such. It’s lovely to see her ‘draw’ four different spiders – Mama Spider, Daddy Spider, Ava Spider and Baby Boy Spider (she likes to draw spider families at the moment). And it is easier for me to carve out a space, mentally, emotionally and physically, for this new person, being able to refer to him not just as Pillywiggin but by his name. Ezra. Or, as Ava says, Ezzzzza.

'What are little boys made of?

Slugs and snails

And puppy-dogs' tails,

That's what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of?

Sugar and spice

And everything nice,

That's what little girls are made of'

DaddyBlog: Is this your day?

~by Howard Mosley-Chalk

Is this your day: get up, get dressed, go to work, stay there until the agreed upon time, go home, engage in parental activities, put child to bed, go to bed yourself?

I’m sure that repetitive sequence is familiar for many people, particularly for fathers with a stay at home partner. And it is, unfortunately, my stripped-down, bare basics day. And although I don’t particularly dread going to work, or fear the next day being quite similar to the one before, it is a sequence that I’m working towards breaking.

I want to be a stay-at-home dad. Now that statement is often met with reactions including, “well, what will you wife do?” In answer I say that she’ll stay at home as well. It’s something that we’re both working towards, namely that I don’t have to leave each morning to ‘go to’ work. I’m a writer (obviously, you’re reading this) but I’m lucky enough to actually do it for a job. I do words for cash, by day at a York magazine, (in an office with a chair, desk and toilet that only employees can use) and by night thinking up things for imaginary people to say and do. Hopefully one day people will be able to read these things in a book which they paid money for. It is my aim (and Kendal’s too) that I will soon be working on a combination of these tasks from home.

No bus ride to the office, no hour for lunch, no being away from the family for nigh on ten hours a day – just home, with the wife and the kids (they’ve already been planned – I have no say in numbers) and the freedom to work as I want.

Head voice speaketh

But I'm a man – see my hairy chest and full beard– why the hell would I want to hang around the house all day with the sprogs and 'little lady'? What about my heroes? Do you think Isambard Kingdom Brunel spent all day with his Missus? No, he was out there in a top hat, looking at gaps and saying “Mmm, a bridge I think”. What about Emperor Hadrian – think he built all those walls while playing with his kids? No, he got amongst it, saying “Stick a wall there, a big one” and having homosexual sex. Don't I want to be like those men?

Yes. I like top hats and tall walls, but for me the world is a heavy place, one that can usually only be held aloft by pretending to be someone I'm not. That bearded guy that just bought four cans of fake Red Bull from the lady in the Co-op, casually joking about the sudden downpour of rain... not really me. Look, it's Howard, he's chatting to his neighbour. He's using his open, friendly face and nodding when the other person speaks... not me. Sometimes I wish I could just get on with the day, be it productive or not, without having to channel the character acting skills of Daniel Day-Lewis. Zero pretence and bullshit – that's what being at home is. Kendal knows me without my 'job-interview mask' on and seems to still love me. Which I'm both grateful for and a little surprised by.

Improving and planning

Put simply, working from home would make me a better, more productive person. I am unfortunately the kind of chap who can get rather grumpy if external forces beyond my control put pressure on my time. By staying at home each day to write I'll never be wasting time in pleasing the people that are further down my list of concerns. Ultimately everything I'm doing, be it working on the novel or planning to invade Jersey, I'm doing for 'them indoors'. We're an Unschooling family after all and we live by those principles; have done in fact since Ava was born. It makes complete sense that both Kendal and I should be present during the day, not only for Ava's sake but also for our own. We both respect the fact that we each have our own projects and interests to pursue, those that might not necessarily fit in with Ava's day. By double-teaming it, by having the flexibility of me not being out of the house from 8am to 6pm, we are able to give each other some time and space.

So, using the medium of the internet via words, I shall describe to you just what I think about when dreaming of the days to come; days in which the words 'commute', 'meeting' and 'sexual harassment investigation' are alien.

The Ideal Day (or A Look Into One Possible Future)

We get up whenever we want. Except on days that end with the letter 'y', in which we get up when Ava wants. This is usually around 6am and to a dawn chorus of “Gass of milt! Gass of milt!” We get Ava some milk. Then as the early morning progresses, we have breakfast as a family, never watching the clock, never rushing through the task of making oatmeal and tea and coffee and toast.

At some point in the morning, possibly even as the afternoon beckons, I ascend to my study to do some writing. In this version of the future, my study was once Kendal's hallowed craft room. I won the space from here after an extremely brutal game of Monopoly - a game of which I'd previously hidden my total mastery, always leading the wife to think I thought it was dull. I bankrupted the crap out of her – so now the room is mine.

Anyway, after a few hours clickety clicking on the old 'puter, no doubt adding the finishing touches to my magnum opus in which an autistic boy... I don't know, fights dragons or summut, I come back down to join the family for lunch. We head out to the park with a picnic (its July, right now in the future) and we spend some time with the children/robots (depending how far in the future this is) exploring outside and generally being 'unschooly'.

Home. More writing. Maybe the dragon learns a vital lesson about love. More play time with the kiddies. Dinner. Story time. Bed. Repeat the next day in a completely different and refreshing order.

Nice, eh? That's the dream anyway, one that seems to be asserting itself over the current reality a little more each day. But although I'm full of dreams, I'm also a person who is tragically ruled by logic. That is why, although the above is the desired future - the life-goal - it hasn't stopped me imagining a alternate possibility; one in which I am still working from home, but in more challenging circumstances. Namely, after nuclear war tears a hole in the fabric of existence. And so...

The Ideal Post Apocalyptic Day

We get up when we want. Mostly because we haven't slept - not since the Octo-wolves got a taste for human blood and we must stand guard all night. Ava declares she wants a “Gass of milt” and tenderly extends a purple tentacle to receive her drink. I nod, utter “Okay” and head out back to milk one of the colloso-bees. We have breakfast in the bunker because between 6 and 9 am is when the demons roam the dining room. We never rush. We can't, its -5 degrees Celsius down there.

I head up to my study to write. On opening the door I discover the study has fallen into the nth dimension. I close the door and tut. I sit on the toilet and type out chapter 23 of my picture book for the blind on my phone.

For lunch we head out to the park. Its the only area of open land not yet claimed by the clam people. Ava plays in the pond. At the bottom of the pond. Kendal comments that she's surprised how quickly Ava's gills have come in and how hopefully this means the end of nightly calpol doses.

While Kendal strips to the waist, daubs herself in Celtic blue and hunts squirrels with her teeth, I head to Costa to do a bit of writing. I order a latte, sit back and get cracking in relaxing, tranquil surroundings (n.b. Costa Coffee survived the apocalypse due to their espresso's high lead content which helped shield them from the initial blasts. Plus all the staff have horns).

We return home. Its fallen into the void. We tut. Story time. Bed. Repeat the next day in a completely different and terrifying order.

I've also made a plan for the eventually that Ava turns out to be the new Jesus, but won't include it here. Suffice to say, it's amazing.

A Day in the Life

 - by Emi

I, like many other women, am always in awe of other Mamas. It can often seem like every other Mama has their life more under control than you. Constant comparisons, for me at least, can sometimes leave me feeling, on a bad day, downhearted, low spirited and like a failure. On a good day, I see these Mamas as... well, not idols exactly, but people to look up to.

However... Although this blog may appear to paint Kendal and I in a hugely organised and tidy way, as women who have time to be attentive to their children, breastfeed, craft for their businesses, craft with their children, maintain loving marital relationships, keep a home, and make all meals from scratch, not to mention all the while photographing and blogging about it... it simply isn't true.

Everyone has their own challenges. In my social circle alone, there are parents with twins, single parents (both male and female), parents with special needs kids, parents with children who have long-term illnesses, parents who have illnesses themselves, parents dealing with one child, three children, seven children...



Kendal and I have been asked how we do it all, how we fit it all in.

Well, here's the thing.

We most definitely, empatically DON'T.



Stephen and I have a philosopy, that it is easier to give to others when your own 'cup' is full. We strongly feel that as a parent, EVERYTHING is easier when you feel happy within yourself. Those toddler meltdowns that make you want to tear your hair out and scream just as loud as they are? Much easier when you've had time for a child-free shower.

Our relationship almost takes turns in who needs more nurturing out of the two of us. The end of last year, and the start of this one, we needed to focus on Stephen, due to some issues relating to Stephen's job at the time. The wheel has now turned to me needing the focus.

It is worth me explaining at this point that I have recently started taking anti-depressant medication, after suffering with depression consistently since my early teens. I have been forced to spend an increased amount of time to do things for my own benefit, to 'fill my own cup', so to speak, for my own physical and mental well-being.

This is one of the main motivations that helps construct our days right now, as well as making sure each other member of our family is fulfilled. We try and take everyone's changing needs into consideration.

Pixie, for example, is at a point in her development where she is desperate for one-on-one activity without having Ru 'helpfully' directing it.

Ru needs rough-and-tumble play several times a day to direct his energy. He also needs calmer afternoons as his mornings at nursery are very stimulating for him.

Stephen needs time to do his music (I jokingly call his studio  his 'other wife'), and is always better set up for the day if the house is tidy when he gets up.

I need time for myself, and am finding it hard to accept this. A constant feeling of needing to be doing *something* pervades my days. I don't even sit and watch a film without having some embroidery to do, or cutting out fabric, or my laptop open writing for this blog or doing book-keeping for MamaPixie. Keeping busy has long been successful at keeping my mind off depressive thoughts... The devil makes work for idle hands, after all...

I have been told to stop and just relax, but I'm just not sure I know how to do that. Stephen has long since accepted that I truly am happiest when I'm busy and have something to occupy my mind.




So, let me share our week with you...

Currently, we're still settling in to our new rhythm, as Ru started morning sessions at nursery a month ago which has been a big change for us.

Unlike Kendal's family, we don't have a 'weekend', as such, as Stephen works weekend day time, as well as Monday and Wednesday afternoon to evening.

When Stephen is at work, my focus is the children and doing activities with them. I will manage to get standard housework done (well, most of the time), like emptying the dishwasher and filling the washing machine. I tend to save really messy or time-consuming activities for when Stephen is home as I can easily feel overwhelmed with this on my own. Instead, we choose to read books, colour and draw, do jigsaws or play with whatever toys Ru happens to be into at the moment (currently the dollshouse). We have simple easy meals, like pasta bake and picnic teas.

When Stephen works nights, I bath and bed the kids, and then have a rare couple of hours of doing absolutely, completely NOTHING constructive. I stay upstairs in our family bedroom, watching trashy television on my laptop. Faves right now are Glee (something shared by Kendal!), Hoarders and America's Next Top Model. When Steve returns home, we swap stories about our day whilst he grabs a bath. Then off to bed.


On days when Stephen doesn't work, our standard routine plays to our strengths.

Stephen doesn't work weekday mornings, and so consistently does the entire morning routine for himself and Ru, including breakfast, wash, teeth, hair, dressed and to nursery for 8.45am whilst Pixie and I sleep in.

This is where the 'Know Your Strengths' part comes in to play. Stephen doing the entire morning routine whilst I laze in bed may seem harsh. But... I loathe mornings. I am not a morning person. I simply need more sleep to function that Stephen, and I am neither use nor ornament until at least 9am has passed and a cup of tea has made its way into my stomach. I am short(er)-tempered and find myself lacking in patience. It benefits everyone for Stephen to be in charge at this time of day. Fewer tempers are frayed and there is far less shouting.

I can, when needed, be bribed/guilt-tripped into taking over so Stephen can sleep in, or if he's poorly. I'll be honest, this usually involves a promise of cookies.

Once Steve has returned from taking Ru to nursery, we sit down together for coffee and tea either in bed or curled up on the sofa, and decide what to do with our morning whilst Pixie has breakfast. And by 'has breakfast', I do in fact mean, 'smears herself liberally with yoghurt, mushes banana into her hair and attempts to feed toast to the cats'. We both check Facebook, I check email, Etsy, Crafty by Nurture,  and my favourite green parenting forum.

Since Ru started morning sessions at nursery, this time of the day is fast becoming a very special time for Stephen and I. After Daddy-Daughter time for Steve and Pixie, giving them valuable time together and providing her with the much-needed one-on-one time I mentioned earlier, she falls asleep till we collect Ru from nursery.

As Stephen's weekday shifts are all afternoon-to-evenings, so we take advantage of Ru-free/Pixie-sleep combo by doing trips into town to purchase MamaPixie supplies, go swimming, once a week we head out for a morning of wandering the local charity shops, coffee and cake together. We also are the keyholders for Natural Nurturing Network (a brilliant crunchy parent-child group), and open up for that every other Tuesday. Sometimes we'll watch a film together whilst I embroider crowns and Pixie naps. We have found that this time is doing wonders for making Stephen and I stronger as a couple. Often though, I will work on MamaPixie orders.




I LOVE making things for strangers. The joy I get and pride I feel in myself are wonderful! MamaPixie is an amazing outlet for me. It allows me to be selfish; it is MINE, something for ME. As a creative person, I have an intrinsic *need* to make things and MamaPixie enables me to throw myself completely and wonderfully into a passion of mine. I find great joy in imagining the children I am making costumes and dying playsilks and embroidering crowns for enjoying them.

I aim to do some work on MamaPixie every day, as I do get a lot of orders. If I don't work on these in the mornings, I will do some on an evening, utilising child-free time to fill the living room floor with pieces of fabric for quilt layouts and not worrying about Littles wandering over it!

Sewing also provides me with a much needed brain-focus, keeping my mind off the depression, and plays a key part in keeping me in a stable place.




We fetch Ru home from nursery shortly before midday, and then he has a snack whilst one of us reads to him and the other prepares lunch. We are four chapters into 'George's Marvellous Medicine' right now. Lunch is often leftovers and salad for Steve and I, and then picky food/sandwiches for the kids. Sometimes we'll have friends of Ru's over for lunch and a bit of a play, though this doesn't happen more than maybe once a week as Ru is usually bushwacked from the busy fun of nursery!

I find it difficult to leave the house with both children on my own, a part of my depression that is something I am working hard on changing. However, right now, when Stephen is home, we go out for a walk in the afternoons, go to the park, or work in the garden; just do something outdoors-y.

We also see lots of our favourite people, with LOTS of visits from godparents (especially Alex and Susana). Kendal and Ava will often drop in during the daytime, and I love popping over to hers on an evening to gossip about Glee and discuss Crafty by Nurture.




Our afternoons cater to Ru's dual needs for aggressive play and calm.

Firstly, rough-and-tumble. As a three year old boy, we find that having several sessions of physical, rough-and-tumble play does wonders for him and helps him work through anything he's been dealing with that day. We feel that aggressive play gives him an opportunity to work through the new ideas, concepts and games he's learning at nursery. Since he started nursery, we've noticed an increase in games that involve a conflict of some sort. This includes dinosaurs fighting one another, using his 'wand' as Harry Potter to cast spells and fight off Dementors, or pretending he's  a dragon or monster trying to catch us! Often, he will introduce a resolution into his games; the dinosaurs will discuss good ideas to solve their problem, Ru/Harry will save Daddy/Ron and Mama/Hermione, and the dragon-monster will turn out to just want a friend or discover that he prefers eating cheese to people! If he doesn't bring a resolution of the conflict into his games, Stephen and I will endeavour to do so, as we think it's important to balance the conflicts presented in Ru's games with problem-solving to a happy end.

As for the calm, once Ru's expended all his remaining energy, we then spend the rest of our afternoons playing, reading or watching a film. I've covered the kinds of toys we have in our home in a previous post, so I don't really need to cover it again here.

Like Kendal's family, we chose not to have a tv license either. When we were living with family who constantly, and I mean CONSTANTLY had the tv on as background noise, we would see an increase in Ru's lethargy and lack of interest in activities and playing with us or his toys.

Whilst Ru has a tiny amount of screen time compared to his peers of a comparable age, but the amount is something we're looking at modifying. We are in fact, Stephen and I, going completely TV-free for the entirety of November, so keep an eye out for posts sharing how we manage with that! (What will I do without Glee and my XBOX360?!) We will sometimes rent a film to watch together for a special film night, complete with extended bedtime, pizza, popcorn and icecream. Ru adores animals, spending hours poring over the gorgeous animal photography books we own, and loves watching documentaries, especially anything to do with lions! Stephen or I watch with him, answering his questions and paraphrasing the narrator's information into something a toddler will understand. He amazes us with information and stories from these documentaries, happily telling me about how people in really cold places at the top of the world don't have cars and have sleds with husky dogs instead, or telling Stephen that he is silly because dragons *do* exist and live on an island in the sea far away from our house.

We also love sharing classic children's cartoons with him, namely Bagpuss, Mr Benn, and Pingu, supplemented with My Little Pony. Ru loves watching films, and enjoys Harry Potter, How To Train Your Dragon and Nanny McPhee best. Even more, he enjoys acting out and 'playing' his own games, based on the films. My absolute favourite is running round the house yelling spells at one another. Ru's great at Expecto Patronum, whilst I'm pretty handy with a Wingardium Leviosa (the trick is to get the 'swish and flick' movement right). We often incorporate activities that have some basis in the films we've watched or books we've read. We've made our own wands, had Wonderland teaparties complete with playdough cakes, we've eaten Elsa Beskow-inspired Sun Eggs, made Paper Caper airplanes and played with Happy Feet penguins in mashed potato snow.

Films are important to me and my husband. The first thing we bonded over on our first date was a film. Because both Stephen and I love, love, love films, we can't wait till Ru and Pixie are old enough for us to be able to share our most favourite movies with them (though we have a looooooooooooooooooong time to wait as my top three films are 300, Pan's Labyrinth and Perfume, whilst Steve loves the Alien franchise as well as anything to do with superheroes!).

We will never get rid of the tv completely because we love films and I love gaming. I love losing myself in a fantasy character for an hour! Skyrim is the game of choice right now, though I have plans for exploring into Call of Duty once I complete Skyrim. I can only game on a night though, or when Steve takes the kids out for a walk or upstairs for a bath. Because they're so stimulating and intense, it doesn't make sense to expose Ru and Pix to that.

In the months after Pixie's birth, with my post-natal depression at a very very low point, Ru and I watched a lot of films. Sometimes, you need that. I know Kendal has done similar recently whilst she was exhausted from baking that teeny human in her tummy! Whilst this is ok for short bursts, it's not something that we'd encourage for long periods of time. TV, when used properly, is meant to educate and amuse, sparking discussion and imaginative play. It's not a babysitter. (Having said that, if the house is a total bomb-site, I am not above putting a film on so that I can restore order whilst Ru's attention is elsewhere!)



Pixie and Ru will often play together, although we offer Ru the opportunity to play alone upstairs if he feels that she is spoiling his carefully-planned game. He gets very frustrated when he spends time creating an elaborate wooden train track, only to have it broken apart by an interested Pixie!

Don't get me wrong though, we don't always do set activities with our kids. It's so important for them to direct their own play and do what they want, rather than what we think they *should* be doing. Right now, Ru is spinning wooden disks on the floor, much to Pixie's delight!




So, back to our days... Late afternoon, one of us prepares dinner whilst the other tidies with Ru. We feel it is so important for Ru to feel like he is part of this home, and that we want him to learn that everyone contributes to making everyone else happy, and that keeping our home tidy is part of that. Like Ava, Ru loves to help Mama and Daddy. He favours putting cutlery away and sweeping, hates the hoover and handling wet clothes, but seems to find an odd pleasure in folding clean ones - a job he does FAR better than his Daddy! We want him to see the both of us enjoying maintaining our home.

One evening a week, I have a Bokwa class which is yet another opportunity to fill my Mama cup. I get to feel healthy, actively work towards losing my baby weight and feel better in the process. In a similar vein, on days when Stephen doesn't bike the four miles to work, we make time for him to exercise and box.

After dinner, we start on the wind-down to bedtime. Bathtime for Ru and Pixie gives an opportunity for a break from parental responsibility for whoever is most frazzled at that point in the day! Those 20 minutes for Stephen to play with music editing software, or for me to reorganise fabric, does wonders in restoring us to full working order and soothing frayed nerves. I find noisy, loud games with lots of shrieking and screaming the most difficult to deal with, whilst Steve gets easily frustrated by many different toys out at once.

After a bath, the kids have supper and we all head up to bed together. I feed Pixie to sleep and listen to Steve and Ru reading stories to one another. After three or four stories, Pixie will have dropped off in her cosleeper and Ru will be fast approaching a similar state. Once they're both fast asleep, Stephen and I head back downstairs.

At this point, I am at my best and most productive. As a self-confessed night owl, I can often be found (much to Stephen's utter confusion) starting big projects, like completely reorganising the kitchen cupboards, sorting through the myriad of photos on my camera, or working on MamaPixie orders if I didn't do so earlier in the day.

Regular as clockwork, Pixie wakes around 11pm for a feed, Steve fetches her whilst I have a last run round the house, feeding kitties, turning on the dishwasher, finishing up sewing, before we head upstairs one final time for teeth and 'jamas, before snuggling up in bed.




As Kendal said, it is all about what you choose to spend your time doing and what you choose to drop. I will always pick sewing over housework, for example.


The three biggest things that Stephen and I use to make the most of how we choose to spend our time are as follows.

1. Play To Your Strengths - I am not a morning person, Steve is, thus it makes sense for him to take charge then. He also freely admits that he's not hugely inspired in the creative activity department, leaving me to lead those more often than not. You find out what works for you as an individual and as a couple. Even simple things like the fact that Stephen willingly does the sweeping and hoovering because I despise those jobs (that's what years of bar work will do to you!), and I will do the gardening because Stephen simply doesn't enjoy it.

2. Fill Your Cup - Everything is easier when you have some time to nurture yourself and your interests. Nothing seems as bad after a lie-in, a bath or an uninterrupted Glee episode. Or ideally, a lie-in, followed by a bath whilst watching Glee.



MOST importantly...

3. You Can't Do It All... And That's O.K. - If I choose to work on MamaPixie orders, I'm sacrificing time with my family. If I'm spending time with my family, the bathroom doesn't get cleaned. If the bathroom gets cleaned, then there's probably a bucketful of nappies to be washed and a pile of clean clothes in a neglected corner, waiting to be put away.

Ya simply can't have it all. That's one of the things I love about this blog. Whilst Kendal and I have months-worth of posts planned and detailed schedules, it is flexible. Best example is this post. We'd agreed to post both of ours together, but after a bloody stressful night, I was all out of creative spark, and by the time it came to publish it, I was nowhere near done. At times, we've both posted late, and sometimes not posted at all.

I openly admit that I wouldn't manage a third of the stuff I do if it wasn't for Stephen. I did far less when he worked 9-5. I did far less before I started taking medication.



Please, please, don't ever feel whilst you're reading this blog that Kendal and I are perfect, with perfect lives and perfect children and perfect homes and perfect relationships. It simply doesn't work that way, for anyone. Attempting to attain perfection is such a pointless endeavour, as is unfavourably comparing your life to anyone elses.

In the end, we're all doing the best for those we love, with what and who we have. There's nothing better than that.

Except maybe for luxuriating on your own in a bubble bath that has no plastic sea animals in sight, whilst you watch Glee and convince yourself that Darren Criss really isn't too young for you...

A Day in the Life

~by Kendal

‘Do the best that you can in the place where you are, and be kind’

- Scott Nearing.

Like most Mamas I know, I often hold myself up to unrealistic expectations. I have the sense that I could and should be doing everything I want to, all at once, managing effortlessly without food smeared on my clothes and dark rings of tiredness under my eyes.

Like most Mamas, I find myself looking at other women who seem to do so much and who make it look so easy, and I wonder what their secret is. I’ve certainly had my fair share of people comment the same to me – how do I manage to be an attentive parent, to keep a clean house, to sew as much as I do, to have two blogs, to go out and do things? And when I write it down like that I think, wow, how do I manage all that? I know Emi gets the same kind of question too, and when it came up again recently, on here, we got to talking about how it is always a misconception that we, that any of us, can do everything without other things falling to the wayside.

So, following the suggestion of one our readers, we thought it would be a good idea to talk a little about what our days are actually like, and our weeks too. What we do do, what we wish we could do, and what we simply don’t manage. What things get sacrificed when it comes down to choosing how we spend our time, because the truth is, something always does get sacrificed, and this shouldn’t go unnoticed.

When I think back to the first year of Ava’s life, one thing stands out. How very unproductive  I was. Ava was a babe-in-arms all right, and she was literally attached me to me 24/7. When she was awake, she was nursing, and when she was asleep, she was always asleep on me, so I got very little done. If I got dressed, let alone showered, it was a small miracle. Housework was done only when Howard was home and we could manage to do the bare minimum to keep things clean, if not always tidy. I certainly didn’t even consider doing all the things I do now, and I often wondered if I’d ever be a functioning member of society again.

But Ava grew, as babies do. And round about the time that she started to get a little less attached, I started to really want to make things. The urge was so strong, and felt so necessary, that I invested in a lot of expensive quilting equipment, bought a book, got a sewing machine, and made my first quilt. And that was me, hooked.

I think now that this was a need for me to have something to do for myself, something to let me feel productive and, more importantly, creative, and it felt so good. It didn’t matter if I was bone-tired the next morning, sewing into the wee hours of the night awoke a passion for making things that I had only been vaguely aware of previously in my life.

And that began to fit into a new rhythm we were finding as a family, as we looked for ways to spend our time, our precious time, as well as possible.

For us, that’s the key to being productive – spending our time wisely, choosing to use time instead of simply letting it pass.

But it is also very much about going with the flow of where each of us, individually, are in terms of energy and need. Right now, for example, I simply do not have the energy to spend four or five hours sewing in the evenings, as much as I would love to do so. Instead, I am reading or sleeping and trying not to feel restless, trying to honour the importance of relaxation and rest.

In a typical week, just as in a typical day, we have certain things we like to do. Because Howard works 9-5, we always do special family things at the weekend, lots of outings to the park, swimming, coffees and lunches out etc. But during the week, when it is just me and Ava, I find that a regular rhythm works really well for us.

We always go out at least once a day, and almost always in the mornings, which are our busy periods. On Monday morning we go to the library and to town. On Tuesday mornings we go to Natural Nurturing Network, or see friends when it’s not on. On Wednesday mornings we either go to the library or swimming. On Thursday mornings we go to Woodland group and then friends come back to our house for lunch and playing, and on Friday we usually go to the Museum gardens in town and feed the squirrels and birds.

Ava usually naps just after lunch, so we spend the afternoon doing more chilled out activities likes drawing or painting, having friends over, or going to the local park, and then Ava ‘helps’ me cook dinner.

And then, within each day, we have certain routines and rituals we follow. For example, Ava sits on the counter and has a glass of milk and piece of fruit whilst I make tea and oatmeal, and then we sit in the dining room and look out at the garden eating our breakfast. Then we read some stories, and then, between 8 and 10, I try to do any housework that needs doing and have showers/baths, get ready.

Ava loves to be involved in things so she always ‘helps’ me clean the bathroom (she uses a baby wipe to wipe things) or hoover (she uses an attachment to pretend hoover the carpet). If I have any breakfast dishes to do, Ava will sit up with me and either help dry them or, if she’s not in the mood, sing songs.

Whatever we do, I try to make sure Ava is always involved, even if that means she bounces up and down on the bed whilst I put clothes away. This helps me get things done whilst still being attentive to Ava, and I also think it’s really good for her to see me happily doing things, and enjoying housework, so that she might want to join and help too.

In the evenings, when Howard comes home, we eat dinner together in the dining room and then read stories in the living room. Ava goes to sleep around 8pm, and this is usually when I start doing anything like sewing or quilting, up in my craft room. If I haven’t spent too long sewing, I also try to read for an hour or so before bed. Sometimes, Howard and I will sit and talk instead, or we will watch a show we have streamed, depending on our mood.

But this brings me to an important point. Everything we choose to do, we choose in favour of doing something else. One of the most important decisions we made was not to get a TV license, which means we can never just sit and watch TV. Since we stopped watching TV, both Howard and I have found so much more free time to do other things – for me, making clothes or quilts or household things, as well as having the time to write for both of my blogs and for other writing projects on the go. For Howard, that means time to read a lot of books, and time to write his novel.

But this decision has affected us in a great many ways. It has changed the energy and harmony in our house too. It affects the way Ava behaves, or more to the point, doesn’t behave. During times when she has watched more TV, like when we lived with family, I have noticed an increase in four things – aggressive behaviour, lack of responsiveness, attention issues and hyperactivity. And these things seep into the times when the TV is not on, too. These are the same things I have seen over and over throughout my life, without exception, in children who watch a lot of TV, and both Howard and I saw how strongly it created a disconnection between how we wanted to spend our time and how Ava was reacting to us and to her environment,

And so, without TV, we sometimes put on a film for her, but even this is a thing we do very rarely these days. And this has had the biggest impact on how we spend our time and also, Ava’s capacity for spending time calmly, engaging, interacting. When she needs down time, we quietly read stories or lie on the bed together talking and gently playing. We sometimes draw or I just let her wander about the back garden, but it certainly leads to a much calmer, happier child, who can play with her toys in a much more creative and imaginative way and without aggression.

(Plus, since children below the age of 7 have no way of editing out the things they see on TV, I don’t have to worry about her little sponge brain picking up things completely unsuitable for her – things I certainly don’t want affecting her personality and development.)

Aside from removing TV as a presence in our household, we’ve also had to choose carefully from the things we really want to do. We try to spend some time alone, doing something for ourselves at least once a week, to replenish and reinvigorate ourselves, and this helps a great deal too. But there are only so many hours in the day, and there are things I would love to do that I never get the chance to, at the moment. I would love to do Pilates and meditate – things I did a lot of before Ava was born – but I choose to do other things instead.

I might choose, for example, to write for this, or my other blog instead of watching a film in the evenings, or having a bath, or doing something else that might be beneficial, but writing is more important to me. I also know that I have times of high productivity and times of low productivity, and that for me, it’s a challenge to find a balance between the two. My husband says I am terrible at pacing myself and he is right, which means I have a tendency to burn out sometimes, and whilst I used to be able to hibernate before Ava, I don’t have that option now.

I find that since I only have limited making time, and this is almost always in the evening when Ava is asleep, I have to choose wisely what I want to make. I came to realise that although I love having an Etsy store, I would much rather spend my time making things for Ava, for the house, or for friends and family, than I would for strangers purchasing items online. I don’t get very much satisfaction from that, and so I tend to focus on making things that I feel would benefit our lives in some way.

And the last thing that we try to remember, especially in times when it seems days have passed without us getting much done at all, is that the best way to approach things is 'one stitch at a time'. A little here and there. Whether that’s with housework or making something, just doing a little bit often can have a huge and cumulative affect on our productivity and it also helps to keep our sanity in check too.

I think whatever we are doing, it is important to remember that we are also not doing something else at the same time. I have no idea how single parents manage to be attentive and productive at the same time, and I am in awe of their ability to do both. I am in awe of working mums who manage to organise their days and their children and still come home ready for being present with their Littles. I often wonder how people with four or five children do it – and it really seems like a miracle to me that anyone does. 

But, like a good friend pointed out recently, it is impossible, and detrimental, to compare your situation to anyone else’s because we all have our own set of challenges, our own energy levels, our own emotional dramas to deal with. We all have such different lives, and we all need different things to feel healthy. I try to remember this when I find myself wondering how other people do ‘it’, because ‘it’ doesn’t really exist, and comparing yourself to others can lead to a feeling of never being good enough, which is something as Mamas we deal with all the time. We are all doing our best with what we’ve got, where we are.

***

Soon, Emi will talk about what her days and weeks look like, and what works and doesn’t work for her family

On being pregnant, again.

~ by Kendal

Everyone remembers the moment they first find out they’re pregnant. With Ava, I managed to covertly pee on a pregnancy test whilst Howard was in the shower, running back through minutes later, half-dressed, with a positive test waving about in my hand whilst shouting, ‘I’m pregnant! I’m pregnant!’ I remember Howard’s shocked face peering out the glass door of the shower, completely unaware of what was going on.

Not exactly smooth. So it’s not a surprise that when I found out I was pregnant again, for the second time, it took me four tests and three days to really feel certain that I was, indeed, with child. Again. After a year of breastfeeding on demand my period returned almost exactly on Ava’s 1^st birthday. As good a time as any, I thought, to kind of start trying for baby number two. Five children take time, after all, and my only-child longing for many children wasn’t getting any quieter.

I knew that it might take some time since I was and still am breastfeeding Ava on demand. I read that, period or not, it can take some women two or three years to conceive again, but I was determined that nothing was going to stop me nursing Ava and somewhat naively assumed that since it took us a couple of months the first time round, it would probably follow suit again.

But then six months followed that were probably the most stressful of my whole life. We moved house three times. Howard was searching for the right job, and we were amidst near constant family drama that made it seem like it might, in fact, be the very worst time to get pregnant again. And unsurprisingly, it just didn’t happen.

During this time I was recommended a book called Taking Charge of Your Fertility which brought out a raging feminist from within that I frankly didn’t know existed. Not just about how to understand your own fertility, this book educated me in the ways of my own body to such an extent that I wondered why it wasn’t handed out to every 14 year old girl in need of answers. I started to take notice of my monthly cycle – every stage of it – and it became easy to interpret various signs and see that in fact my fertility was clearly not back to where it should be. Whether this was due to the breastfeeding or the stress, I don’t know.

But then we moved into this house and everything settled. Howard found a good job, and I felt everything in me just relax and let go. And two months later, hey-ho, I was pregnant. And really bloody happy that it hadn’t happened in amidst turbulent times, when I would surely have been constantly worried that such stress was having a negative effect on a baby.

Still, nothing quite prepares you for the feeling of seeing that line on a test. Even if at first that line is very faint, just the suggestion that somehow, without you knowing, this incredible, life-changing thing has happened, is not the easiest thing to process. In fact, it doesn’t quite seem real until my body starts to react to the surge of pregnancy hormones and sickness and exhaustion take over.

The past nine weeks have been challenging in a number of different ways than it was with Ava. Unexpectedly, I’ve been more sick this time around, but I’ve been able to nap with Ava for a couple of hours most days which means I’ve not been quite as bone-tired exhausted as I was when I was working. We’ve watched a lot more films during the day than I ever thought we would, but sometimes it felt like lying on the couch with Ava and watching Mary Poppins for the twentieth time that week was all I could muster. You begin to understand that it’s okay to let go of some things, to compromise.

Most days I waited for Howard to get home so I could run upstairs and fall fast asleep in bed. My ‘morning sickness’ was worst between 5 and 7pm at night, which meant eating dinner was impossible.  However this time round, instead of going off meat/protein, I actively craved it. I discovered almonds not only stopped the first trimester heartburn that seems to occur, but it also helps with nausea.

As for breastfeeding, my feelings have changed a little. I still nurse Ava and it’s my hope that I continue to do so until she wants to stop, but I find myself discouraging it more and more, since it has added an extra feeling of being drained that I didn’t expect. I have never been worried about nursing whilst pregnant – I’ve read enough to know how natural and possible it is but I’m sure my milk supply has gone right down already, and I can tell by the way Ava responds that she has noticed. I suspect that she is one of those children who will happily nurse through the next six months, milk or not, rather than wean, but we’ll see, I suppose. The logistics of sleep nursing with a huge tummy seems a conundrum.

And now here I am, about to enter my second trimester tomorrow, having mostly passed that really challenging stage, and wondering how it is that I could possibly have two children. Two human beings that depend on me. Two children I love as much as I have one. It is a concept very hard to understand. Perhaps more so because this time around, with a rambunctious toddler running around, I have had so little time to focus on being pregnant, to fantasise and ruminate on who this little person is.

Again, so different than the first time round, when all my thoughts were focused on one thing and one thing alone. The advantage to this, I think, is that your body just gets on with doing what it has to do, and you don’t have the time to worry and panic over every little thing. I’ve managed to write a few lists which mostly consist of slings, reusable nappies, a sheepskin and little things I want to make, but so much less to buy than last time. Unless of course I get carried away with the beautiful range of slings I covet almost daily. No pushchairs, no Moses basket, and certainly no Pampers.

When we were notified our first scan would fall on Ava’s birthday, I thought it a particularly lovely stroke of luck. I didn’t feel too nervous this time, in part because my body is so unbelievably sensitive to hormonal changes that it’s somewhat of a comfort to feel so sick, as if you can really believe that something big must be going on.

But at the same time, lying on the hospital bed with Ava and Howard next to me whilst a huge picture of a little baby flickered on screen – I also felt incredibly relieved. There it was – there he or she was. Proof that there’s a human being growing at a phenomenal rate inside me. Proof that I haven’t just been imagining the past three months, complete with fabricated pregnancy symptoms and a swollen tummy.

A little fluttering heartbeat, and hands that flicked around everytime my tummy was prodded.  A near identical profile to Ava’s scan. And for the first time since finding out I was pregnant, I really did feel a rush of love, of protectiveness, or warmth towards this little person. I understood for the first time how easy it would be to love another person as much, as unconditionally, as I do Ava. Love is not a pie after all. And as I lay there with this baby bobbing around on screen and inside me, whilst Ava clambered to get up beside me and Howard earnestly tried to divert her attention towards the picture of her new baby brother or sister, it seemed like the most easy thing in the world to just welcome another person into our family.

Ava tells me the baby is a boy. I’m inclined to agree. She likes to pretend-feed my tummy blueberries and sometimes, if she’s feeling particularly generous, yoghurt covered raIsons. She is the first to remind me at dinner to take my ‘preggy pill’, which has become her job. I have a feeling she is going to be the most amazing big sister, and everytime I imagine it I am flooded with gratitude for our growing family. These are good days.

  Ava and I snuggled up on the couch watching Mary Poppins during one of my 'sick' days

What we all have in common

~by Kendal

Flee to the Wilderness

the one within, if you
can find it.

       -       Utah Philips

When I was a child, I wasn’t particularly outdoorsy. I so admired other kids my age who went hiking or climbed trees – did normal outside kid things. I didn’t spend a lot of time playing outside and I certainly didn’t enjoy getting messy. Looking back, I think that was mostly down to environment rather than my own innate dislike of nature - I was that girl who stayed curled up inside, nose in a book.

And yet, some of my most vivid and exuberant memories of childhood are memories of being outside, of engaging with nature in some way. A week spent by the beach with my closest childhood friend, our hands and toes sprinkled with sun and sand, falling heavily into bed each night, full of the excitement of our days. A camping trip with my first boyfriend and his family on the Isle of Mull, canoeing in the sea, sleeping on the rough ground.

This week we visited the seaside at Scarborough and I watched my daughter explore. I watched her dig her feet in the sand, throwing handfuls on me, on her head, on my feet. I watched her dig and bury, roll around and jump. We walked towards the water and she ran ahead, straight into the icy cold froth and onwards until her bloomers were wet. Every time a wave swelled and lolled around her legs she squealed and ran backwards. She threw her bright pink ball and watched it ebb with the water.

And I saw how free she felt. I saw it because I too felt free. Her body reacting and delighting in the beauty of the natural world around her.

There is something so inspiring about watching children unfold within a natural setting, be it seaside, woodland or park. It is hard to deny that their spirits soar and that they seem to relish a connection to the earth that is so obvious and accessible to them.

And when I am with Ava, watching her enjoy the smallest and simplest elements of the earth, I feel a sense of peace, a sense of presentness, that I rarely feel elsewhere. Perhaps this is why I remember those moments in my own childhood easily, because those are the moments I was most in the ‘now’, directly engaging with the beauty and the wildness of the world around me that seemed so primal, so essential. It lends itself well to the glorious feeling of being young and somehow invincible.

Being free to explore the world around us keeps up close to the things that are important and gives our children such a strong sense of their own individual, burgeoning freedom. Never happier than knee deep in water, or covered in mud, Ava keeps me on my toes, reminds me to go outside more, to stand still outside and just breathe. Let go of the day and all the troubles that came with it.

The more time we spend outdoors, the more our home has changed. It has been easier to ‘keep things simple’ by letting the colours and the natural beauty of the outside world influence our own home – from the colour of our walls to the (relatively) clutter free shelves (although my inner book-girl still smarts to see only a couple of hundred books out when there are so many more in boxes in the attic). We decorate according to the seasons instead of traditional holidays and festivities, and the rhythm that has created has been so much more harmonious.

Our Seasons Table is a central point in our living room, surrounding our fireplace where Ava can play with it and change it as much as possible. We have bunches of flowers cut from our garden in as many rooms as possible. Even the toys we buy have been influenced from watching the things Ava truly loves in her own explorations.

As Summer reaches its peak, the days uncomfortably hot, bursting in rain here and there, the promise of Autumn is just around the corner. My favourite season, Autumn is so full of beauty – the sadness of another summer, and all that summer has held, coming to a close, and the excitement of cold nights spent inside, warm from sipping hot chocolates, reading stories, planning our Yule presents.

I imagine leaves dipped in beeswax hanging on our walls. I see vats of butternut squash soup cooking whilst carved pumpkins with candles inside flicker magically on our table. For the first time in my life, it is not hard to want to live connected to the earth around me. I feel happy with myself for spending more time than I ever have before, outside, playing and exploring, even when I have had to force myself to take those initial first steps out the door.

I watch Ava play and I wonder at her ease and confidence with the earth she explores. Is it because children seem to make instant connections to their environment more easily than we as adults do? Because they explore with their whole bodies, without feeling self-conscious, without editing their delight and wonder at the newness of everything? Or is it because children will jump in with both feet without wondering if the water is too cold or if they have fresh clothes waiting for them?

Children seek the world. I know it is part of my job not to stand in the way of that, even when my natural tendency, forged on years of doing the same, is to stay inside, to not get wet, to read about instead of experience. Watching Ava fall in love with one of our treasured spots, revisiting it again and again and finding countless new toys out of the treasures that the earth provides – this is a gift, and one I try hard not to take for granted.

Being in nature makes me feel young - the kind of young that has nothing to do with age - because it makes me feel connected. I breathe in the heady scent of being deep within a wood and I feel full of life – electric life – I feel the current of being alive, and I watch Ava and hope more than anything she always feels that way. That she grows without a care of being messy or mucky, with grazes on her knees and earth in her hair, that she explores fearlessly and with wonder in her heart because she always feels as free as she does now. That she always finds a sanctuary in the beauty of the world around her where she can be, simply, herself.

The earth is what we all have in common - Wendell Berry

CBN Interview - Keir, Daddy of Twins

(So, in the true Crafty by Nurture spirit of honesty, we will be bringing you a couple of interviews each month, with real, regular people, just like us! A little insight into what other people's children are *really* like...)

Remember the joy you felt learning you were pregnant?

Well, imagine how you would feel if you were having TWINS!

This week in Twinsburg, Ohio, they've been celebrating the wonder that is twins, so we're celebrating here on Crafty by Nurture with the lovely Keir, actor, husband to Claire, and father to 2 year old Dylan and Scott.


Tell us about your boys...

K: Well, Dylan is more sociable, gets involved quicker, whereas Scott is more reserved initially. Once he feels comfortable though, he's just as gregarious as Dylan. They do take it in turns to egg one another on, but overall they really are very affectionate and placid. I think this is because of their close, nurturing 'attachment parenting' start to life. They feel content because we're there for them.


What is the hardest thing about having twins?

K: I don't know, I've got nothing to compare it to! The hardest thing, I guess, because we've got twins is that it's non-stop; as soon as you change one nappy, then there's another! There is very little downtime.



How do you find being a stay-at-home dad?
K: One thing I'm very aware of is that I'm very fortunate. I'm the coordinator for the York NCT Dad's group that meets once a month and you realise how little some of the other dads get to spend with their children, maybe the odd half an hour of an evening after work. Me being at home, this bond it's generating between me and my boys is amazing. That said, it is frustrating not being able to pursue my career as an actor. I'm sure that's not exclusive to stay-at-home dads, but it can be difficult not to resent your children. No one tells you how much you have to stop pursuing your own things, but then you look at them, your heart melts; it's such a bonus.

I do feel guilty that Claire can't be at home as much as me though, but to have the opportunity to be with Dylan and Scott is great.


How do you share responsibilities with Claire?
K: I suppose that's one of the things with twins is that you can't just say 'Right, they're yours now!', as there's always something to do, but it does seem like I'm the main nappy changer!

I do try to make sure Claire has quality time with the boys; cuddling up on the 'milky chair' whilst I cook tea. I like her to have the fun stuff with them because she's not there during the day. Bathtime is shared however, because you need two pairs of hands. I feel like I don't stop!

Claire also tandem feeds which can be difficult when they boys interfere with one another; one will push the other off or they'll both want the same breast, so it's tricky. Mainly because one sees what the other has and thinks 'Hey! I want some of that!'


How has becoming parents changed your relationship with your partner?

K: To be honest, it has changed it totally and not necessarily for the better. I think having children is stressful because of all the things I've mentioned are tied in to any frustrations you have with your partner. Having children acts as a magnifying glass for any problems you have.

You find that you just can't resolve issues because you don't have a chance to sit and talk because the children are around. Either that, or when they're asleep, you're tired out and therefore can't have a rational discussion.

It's been tough and it IS tough, but it ultimately will bring you closer together. You share the most beautiful things but also the frustrations.


What is your favourite thing to do purely for yourself?

K: This is not typical for me, but I have to say that at the moment, it is going to a pub and having a pint of beer and just doing nothing! Just chilling. I mean, there are so many other things, theatre, pictures, but if you give me an hour, I will go to the pub and have a pint in a beer garden, next to a river.


What is the worst parenting moment you've experienced?

K: I hate it when they get to the tantrum point, where they have a total meltdown. That is so difficult as there's nothing you can do other than try to be with them, when you actually sometimes want to put them down and walk away. I think that you can't help feeling some of that emotion yourself, it's natural empathy, but as an adult you have to really control that anger. Smacking isn't good, it has nothing to do with the control of the child, it's a release of YOUR anger and frustration.


What springs to mind when you think of one of your favourite parenting memories?K: There's a few but particularly the most beautiful was when the boys were in the bath together and it was the first time they kissed and cuddled without any prompting from us; they did it because they wanted to. Your heart does burst, you can't describe it any other way. So beautiful.

The bottom line though is hearing them laugh, there is nothing better than the sound of your children laughing.


What are the best, and worst, pieces of parenting advice you've been given?

 K: The best was from our Steiner baby group. So much boiled down to letting the child do things for themselves and not rushing them or forcing them. Don't worry if they're not walking, if they're not talking, they'll get there, just allow them to find their own time.

The worst is 'Tummy Time' - They don't need it! All it does is frustrate them lying on their tummy, unable to get out and it upsets you because they're crying and unhappy. They say it's building strength but they'll get there when they're ready. Leave them on their backs. Sit back, just watch them. They don't need to be in positions that they wouldn't normally find themselves.


What gem of knowledge would you pass on to a new parent? What would you say?

K: You fool! (laughs) Enjoy it. It's going to be hard, you're going to be tired, it's frustrating but it's so beautiful; try and enjoy it.


What have you found most surprising on your parenting journey?

K: The one thing you can't be prepared for is how tiring it is. Not just lack of sleep when you're being woken up every other hour when they're babies, but also at this toddler stage when you're running around after them! It was a big surprise!


And finally, if you could change one thing about to the world today to make it better for your children, what would it be?

K: That's so difficult! The world is what it is, and I think it is an amazing, incredible place, and human beings are an amazing animal. If I could banish anything though, it would be selfishness. If people are pushing in front, or not opening doors or parking poorly, then it's not thinking of others. It's a pet peeve of mine.

That, and I'd banish the Tories.

Photograph used with Keir's permission

"There are two things in life for which we are never truly prepared:  twins."
~Josh Billings


Many thanks to Keir for letting us interview him!

DaddyBlog: Breastfeeding Is A Team Sport

~by Steve

I guess I should introduce myself.

I'm Stephen, the husband of Emi, and I have the great honour of writing the first monthly CBN 'DaddyBlog'. This is an honour I will share with Howard, who you will meet next month and no doubt decide is far funnier and more charismatic!

This is me.

I've chosen, this month, to discuss breastfeeding, to tie in with the fact that it's Global Breastfeeding Week. Now, I can hear a chorus of lactating Mamas singing the first verse of 'But You Don't Own A Set Of Mammaries' but, give me a chance here, I'm going to explain why I think breastfeeding is a team sport.

First things first. Men intrinsically do not understand breastfeeding. We can't. Our nipples are pointless. One of the most prominent thoughts that runs through the mind of a first-time (and some second-time) Daddies when faced with the sight of a tiny human sucking on his partner's boobs is "Erm, excuse me. I'm pretty sure those are mine.". This is in no way meant to be misogynistic, far from it, it's just a very hard concept for the male of the species to come to terms with - here's someone you've only just met, who's allowed multiple moments of intimacy with your partner. Let's face it, if a new work colleague did that the first time they met her, you would punch them. Hard. Probably in the nether regions.

I won't pretend to be an expert on British law, but I'm pretty sure this kind of act is frowned upon when performed on a newborn infant.

Nevertheless, men are left with these conflicting feelings of love and crotch-punchery, which leads me to the flip side of the patriarchal coin... One emblazoned with the phrase 'Okay, So I Love This Child... How Come It Likes Her Better?!'.

As a man, you've gotten over the initial shock of this midget userper, began to even enjoy having them around, but what happens? They don't seem that bothered about having a connection with you! As hard as it seems to understand, there is a genuine jealousy there in regards to bonding with your child. Luckily, we find other ways to bond, however. But there is still this Mama-Baby time that we can't be a part of. Right, guys?

WRONG.

As stated earlier, it is a team effort, and it can even strengthen the relationship between Mama and Daddy which, let's be honest, can be quite strained at times. So, I've compiled my best Daddy-of-two expertise tips on how to support your partner during breastfeeding.

1. The magic phrase - "Do You Need Anything?"

Utter these four words when she sits down to feed, and you'll be surprised just how supported she can feel. Whether it be a hot drink, or a nutritious snack, your partner will need sustenance, as an average nursing mother will burn and extra 500 calories a day (which is a Quarter Pounder with cheese from a well-known, Scottish-sounding High street fast food restaurant).

2. It doesn't matter what time it is.

Yes, you're tired, yes it's 3.47 in the morning BUT your partner STILL has to nurse. If she needs something (see above), provide it. She WILL be more knackered than you, trust me. Although, if you're smart, you will have provided a cornucopia of energy-giving snacks on a bedside table for pre-emptive kudos. And more sleep for you.

3. Learn to see breastfeeding for what it actually is...

...A completely fantastical wonder of nature. Once you've learnt this, TELL YOUR PARTNER! Let me put it this way, (drawing comparisons to a 50's B-movie), she grew a human - a real live functioning person! Not content with the minor miracle of turning one cell into about 50 trillion (eat your heart out, Jesus!), she then decides to produce sustenance for this human using her breasts, body parts that previously were naught but 'fun sacks' for your entertainment.

It's pretty damn amazing, isn't it?

4. Here's one I still have trouble remembering... Breastfeeding Can Be Ridiculously Uncomfortable.

Having only minimal personal experience of this, (we bed share, it's dark, newborns eyes are crap at the best of times) I'm going by what my wife has told me, so I'm guessing it's true. Add to this, toungue-ties, chafed nipples, teeth, and mastitis, and suddenly breastfeeding doesn't become the magic 'off-button' that many men feel it is, myself included sometimes.

5. Be The Knight In Shining Armour. Defend Her Choice.

As crazy as it sounds, your partner will still receive those tuts and 'looks' when she partakes in the most natural activity know to mothers. Let's face it, she has balls for doing it in the first place, she needs not the judgement of others for doing something that will be showing less flesh than the average British 12 year old.

Puff out your chest, grow a pair, and calmly explain how proud of her you are for nurturing your child. Failing that, "...And why, pray tell good Sir, were you staring at my lady's chest?! You have insulted her honour, and I demand satisfaction!" accompanied by an angry fist clench, and possibly the production of a rapier usually gets the point across.

Plus, legally, she's entitled to do it anywhere!

As a side note, I've always been ready for the above, but have never had the chance! All the old women that come up to Emi congratulate her on her choice!


And finally...

6. Remember earlier when I mentioned Daddy bonding with Baby? Find A Way To Do This.

Whether it's carrying them in a sling, or reading them stories, Find A Way. The reason I feel this is so important is because it means breastfeeding no longer becomes the answer to every question.

Your baby bumps herself? Feeling safe with Daddy can make it all better.

You have a tired, whiny little darling? A cuddle and a bounce with Daddy can be the balm for a blissful night's sleep.

Your partner feels empty, 'touched out' and to put it mildly 'like a cow'? "That's ok, darling. I'll take her for a bit while you read 50 Shades Of Grey and relax for a while."

Trust me. Get over it. Get involved. Make it a team sport. (Just always remember your wife is the Captain. Or star Quarterback. Depends which country you're reading this in.)

Until next time,

Steve


"There are three reasons for breast-feeding: the milk is always at the right temperature, it comes in attractive containers, and the cat can't get it." ~ Irena Chalmers