Two posts in one day? Huh?
Something today got me thinking about lazy parenting and / or laziness in general.
Last year we took our first family villa holiday. It was. of course, self catering. Now I don't think I was being lazy up until then for not choosing a self catering catering holiday with 5 of us to cater for - far from it. But the time had come when I had to face up to this personal nightmare in case it turned out that this type of holiday turned out to be everyone else's idea of holiday heaven - turned out it wasn't, woo hoo!!
We learned lots of things on that holiday.
One thing my kids learned after we got back is that 'Portuguese croissants are nicer than French croissants.'
I believe I do need to explain how they came to that conclusion.
The first time I went to the local supermarket I came across a very large bag of croissant shaped brioche rolls. They got chosen based purely on quantity. 5 people can get through lots of small croissant shaped rolls. They were served up warm for breakfast the next morning and adored by all. The inevitable question was asked - 'What are these Mummy?' I'm still not sure how or why the word croissant came out of my mouth. But the lazy lie had been told.
Those brioche rolls remained croissants for the rest of the holiday. For some reason I just never could be bothered to straighten everything out.
Fast forward a couple of months ....
We are in a cafe having a snack and I ordered a Croissant to go with my hot chocolate. The food arrives. By this point I had completely forgotten the brioche / croissant mash up in Portugal.
The ritual sharing of food took place, no one gets to eat their own food in our family! So the questions followed.
'What have you got Mummy?'
'It's a croissant'
'Its bigger than the croissants we had in Portugal'
'Yes, I know, but this is a proper French croissant.'
I'm thinking I've got away with it now :)
But then it all fell apart when the youngest offered the opinion that 'Portuguese croissants are much nicer than French Croissants!'
My one lazy word in Portugal so many months earlier now meant giving a long drawn out explanation in front of witnesses about the merits of French croissants and that although croissants could be made in Portugal they would be unlikely to be as good as ones made in France and anyway you ate Brioche rolls in Portugal which are in face another French pastry. Confused yet?
Sunday, 22 April 2012
Faith?
I promised I would write about my faith when I started this Blog.
Just reviewed my three posts so far and no mention has been made of faith, not even the fleeting part Faith played in the baby naming saga!
Off I go on a tangent but I will get back to faith / Faith I promise.
The naming of my babies proved not to be the straight forward process I always thought it would be. I don't suppose it is for anyone really.
I really wanted to know the sex of the twins for many reasons - one being that I figured I would have to come up with names to suit if I had boy / boy, girl / girl or boy / girl twins. Then there was middle names too, insert head exploding icon.
I didn't think that simply choosing 2 boys names and 2 girls names would do the job - not sure why now but that easy course of action remained off the agenda! Anyway it was not until what proved to be 2 weeks before the twins were born that we got confirmation that we were having a boy and a girl. By this point the option of middle names had been thrown out. Here's a faith bit coming .... I figured they could chose their own when it came their time to be confirmed and therefore use their confirmation name as a middle name. That way they could take all the blame too!
Soooo the day dawns when I off I go into pre term labour and no decision has been made. My two favourite names had been vetoed by hubby. In return I had vetoed the majority of names he chose :) We had managed to narrow the decision down to 2 of each boy and girls names(one of which was Faith!), not bad I had thought with over 2 months left of my pregnancy. The birth story is a whole Blog post (or 10 more!).
But here comes the faith bit - As I was being prepared for the Section I knew that my epidural had worn off / failed and no one had told me that I was to be given a general anaesthetic. I lay there believing that I was about to have major abdominal surgery without the benefit of a working anaesthetic, OMG!!! At that point my babies were fighting for their lives too. I handed everything over to God and as I did the nurse beside took my hand and as I was turning my head towards her she said - 'Don't worry, I am going to stay with you until you go to sleep.' My sign from God.
Back to naming babies. I surrendered to the anaesthetic not having chosen names for the babies that were about to be born. It goes without saying that the next 24/48 hours were given over to matters much more important than names. At some point I did notice that there were tags on each incubator then some time later noticed that the girl baby was called Rebecca and the boy baby Matthew. How the hell had that happened? These 2 names had made the short list of 2 but how had they become my babies names? The mystery was solved when I next saw my hubby. He told me that after the babies had been taken to Special Care (NICU) a nurse had come to give him an update and had also asked what names we had chosen. 'So I told her' was what he said to me. See that is how easy it is. I am not sure that are many Mothers who do not get to chose the names of their children but I am in that select band! And yes I know the choice was not set in stone etc. but they had names which seemed to suit them so I left well alone :)
So comes the day to give birth to my plus one! And despite getting a full 9 months of pregnancy I am once again being prepared for a Section (in much calmer circumstances this time!) not knowing what we are going to call this baby I about to give birth to. A quick discussion squeezed in between the medical questions and we came up with Lewis as a name. Would love to say that we we had considered our choice carefully but we didn't and as these things happen he totally grew into his name.
There was no blinding spiritual moment during the birth of Lewis - in contrast the first words he heard his Mother mutter were 'Oh Shit' - again a whole other Blog post!
It was when we came to have him baptised that I got hit across the head with a faith lesson. For most of my adult life my attendance at Church had been sporadic at best and sometimes a lot worse. I had asked the Parish Priest if we could just bring Lewis along one afternoon and have him baptised without all the pomp and circumstance of the usual baptisms at our Church. I think Father Jim misunderstood my reasoning and because I could not point to my regular attendance at Church he was somewhat sceptical that all wanted was for Lewis to receive the sacrament without fuss. I had showed him no outward sign of my faith or my commitment to raise my children in the faith. So with a bit of a 'I'll show you' attitude I signed up for the Baptismal preparation classes and started attending Church every Sunday.
Eight years later as myself and my Church prepare my plus one for his First Holy Communion my Church attendance is sporadic at worst! I have gained so much in those years but as I hijacked this post to talk about baby names I'll leave that for another time .....
Just reviewed my three posts so far and no mention has been made of faith, not even the fleeting part Faith played in the baby naming saga!
Off I go on a tangent but I will get back to faith / Faith I promise.
The naming of my babies proved not to be the straight forward process I always thought it would be. I don't suppose it is for anyone really.
I really wanted to know the sex of the twins for many reasons - one being that I figured I would have to come up with names to suit if I had boy / boy, girl / girl or boy / girl twins. Then there was middle names too, insert head exploding icon.
I didn't think that simply choosing 2 boys names and 2 girls names would do the job - not sure why now but that easy course of action remained off the agenda! Anyway it was not until what proved to be 2 weeks before the twins were born that we got confirmation that we were having a boy and a girl. By this point the option of middle names had been thrown out. Here's a faith bit coming .... I figured they could chose their own when it came their time to be confirmed and therefore use their confirmation name as a middle name. That way they could take all the blame too!
Soooo the day dawns when I off I go into pre term labour and no decision has been made. My two favourite names had been vetoed by hubby. In return I had vetoed the majority of names he chose :) We had managed to narrow the decision down to 2 of each boy and girls names(one of which was Faith!), not bad I had thought with over 2 months left of my pregnancy. The birth story is a whole Blog post (or 10 more!).
But here comes the faith bit - As I was being prepared for the Section I knew that my epidural had worn off / failed and no one had told me that I was to be given a general anaesthetic. I lay there believing that I was about to have major abdominal surgery without the benefit of a working anaesthetic, OMG!!! At that point my babies were fighting for their lives too. I handed everything over to God and as I did the nurse beside took my hand and as I was turning my head towards her she said - 'Don't worry, I am going to stay with you until you go to sleep.' My sign from God.
Back to naming babies. I surrendered to the anaesthetic not having chosen names for the babies that were about to be born. It goes without saying that the next 24/48 hours were given over to matters much more important than names. At some point I did notice that there were tags on each incubator then some time later noticed that the girl baby was called Rebecca and the boy baby Matthew. How the hell had that happened? These 2 names had made the short list of 2 but how had they become my babies names? The mystery was solved when I next saw my hubby. He told me that after the babies had been taken to Special Care (NICU) a nurse had come to give him an update and had also asked what names we had chosen. 'So I told her' was what he said to me. See that is how easy it is. I am not sure that are many Mothers who do not get to chose the names of their children but I am in that select band! And yes I know the choice was not set in stone etc. but they had names which seemed to suit them so I left well alone :)
So comes the day to give birth to my plus one! And despite getting a full 9 months of pregnancy I am once again being prepared for a Section (in much calmer circumstances this time!) not knowing what we are going to call this baby I about to give birth to. A quick discussion squeezed in between the medical questions and we came up with Lewis as a name. Would love to say that we we had considered our choice carefully but we didn't and as these things happen he totally grew into his name.
There was no blinding spiritual moment during the birth of Lewis - in contrast the first words he heard his Mother mutter were 'Oh Shit' - again a whole other Blog post!
It was when we came to have him baptised that I got hit across the head with a faith lesson. For most of my adult life my attendance at Church had been sporadic at best and sometimes a lot worse. I had asked the Parish Priest if we could just bring Lewis along one afternoon and have him baptised without all the pomp and circumstance of the usual baptisms at our Church. I think Father Jim misunderstood my reasoning and because I could not point to my regular attendance at Church he was somewhat sceptical that all wanted was for Lewis to receive the sacrament without fuss. I had showed him no outward sign of my faith or my commitment to raise my children in the faith. So with a bit of a 'I'll show you' attitude I signed up for the Baptismal preparation classes and started attending Church every Sunday.
Eight years later as myself and my Church prepare my plus one for his First Holy Communion my Church attendance is sporadic at worst! I have gained so much in those years but as I hijacked this post to talk about baby names I'll leave that for another time .....
Friday, 12 August 2011
Giving Blood
I first tried to give blood when I was 19. I'm 43 now and have only managed 3 full donations during that 24 year period.
Giving blood is something I always wanted to do and I dreamed of reaching those 10, 25 and 50 donation milestones. I've got the bog standard blood group as far as I am aware - A+ Nobody ever writes or telephones asking for more of it.
Some of my failed attempts to give blood were spectacular, some ironic and some hilarious.
The first time I went along I was about half way through the registration when I was asked how much I weighed. I was blissfully unaware of my weight at the time! Anyway when I got on the scale I was 7 stone 10lbs and apparently you can not give blood if you weigh under 8 stone - bye,bye Cathie :) Never had that problem again!
Second time I walked into the donation centre in Manchester, sneezed during the registration and was sent away.
So I'm getting a bit pissed off by now, after all I had put a load of weight one just so that I could give blood, not!
I left it a while before I gave it another try. The first Gulf War was on and there was an urgent appeal for donations. At last I was going to be able to give blood. This attempt turned out to be the most embarrassing of the lot. The venue was a big sports hall in Crewe and there were loads of beds lined up like a dorm. This time I got past the registration process and was getting a little excited by the time the needle was inserted - yes, excited about that! All went well for a while but then I noticed that there was a different person on the bed next to than had been there at the beginning, same on the other side. When the second lot of people started getting off the beds the staff checked my line - 'just a little bit slow but you are doing great!'
Then the shift at the local Fire Station came off duty and all of sudden I was surrounded by Fire Fighters giving blood! Then boom! my head stared spinning and I knew what was happening. The staff noticed too and every single person in that sports hall turned to look at me as the smallest member of the donation team screamed at the top of her voice 'ASSISTANCE' across the full length of the sports hall. I swear that shout brought me round from a dead faint :)
Despite evidence to the contrary it was not the sight of so many Fire Fighters that caused me to swoon. It was nearly an hour later before I was allowed to go home and to add insult to injury I had not managed to donate enough for it to be even registered, so I still could not say I was a blood donor.
Of course that put me off for a while. I had one more attempt before having the kids but the same thing happened as in Crewe (minus the eye candy this time).
During the emergency c-section I had for the twins I lost nearly a litre of blood. I was very close to needing a blood transfusion of my own. Just a few months after becoming eligible to give blood again, I was pregnant again. So there was no opportunity for me to give blood for about 4 years. But I held on to the fact that because I had not had the blood transfusion at least I could in the future.
Two years after Lewis was born I tried again.
Managed to give 'almost' a full donation before the line was ripped from my arm and my legs were raised in the air again, sigh.
This time the staff talked to me and stated the obvious - me and blood donation was not a good combination :) I knew they were right.
But 2 years ago I tried again! And I did it, woo hoo! Took longer than everyone else in the place and needed a lot of assistance during the donation despite having had an afternoon nap, drinking plenty of fluids and eating loads of chocolate beforehand. I needed extra rest afterwards but I had remained conscious!
Then in May this year I went back again and gave a full donation without a single problem, for the first time the staff were not swarming around me and keeping me at the refreshment table for ages - I was allowed to leave when I wanted to, yeah!
Still thinking this was a bit of fluke I turned up yesterday to try again. Success again! I've got another appointment in December and that first target of 10 is looking achievable.
For me donating blood really was a case of 'if at first you don't succeed ....'
Now then that reminds me of the 6 attempts it took me to pass my driving test, PMSL
Giving blood is something I always wanted to do and I dreamed of reaching those 10, 25 and 50 donation milestones. I've got the bog standard blood group as far as I am aware - A+ Nobody ever writes or telephones asking for more of it.
Some of my failed attempts to give blood were spectacular, some ironic and some hilarious.
The first time I went along I was about half way through the registration when I was asked how much I weighed. I was blissfully unaware of my weight at the time! Anyway when I got on the scale I was 7 stone 10lbs and apparently you can not give blood if you weigh under 8 stone - bye,bye Cathie :) Never had that problem again!
Second time I walked into the donation centre in Manchester, sneezed during the registration and was sent away.
So I'm getting a bit pissed off by now, after all I had put a load of weight one just so that I could give blood, not!
I left it a while before I gave it another try. The first Gulf War was on and there was an urgent appeal for donations. At last I was going to be able to give blood. This attempt turned out to be the most embarrassing of the lot. The venue was a big sports hall in Crewe and there were loads of beds lined up like a dorm. This time I got past the registration process and was getting a little excited by the time the needle was inserted - yes, excited about that! All went well for a while but then I noticed that there was a different person on the bed next to than had been there at the beginning, same on the other side. When the second lot of people started getting off the beds the staff checked my line - 'just a little bit slow but you are doing great!'
Then the shift at the local Fire Station came off duty and all of sudden I was surrounded by Fire Fighters giving blood! Then boom! my head stared spinning and I knew what was happening. The staff noticed too and every single person in that sports hall turned to look at me as the smallest member of the donation team screamed at the top of her voice 'ASSISTANCE' across the full length of the sports hall. I swear that shout brought me round from a dead faint :)
Despite evidence to the contrary it was not the sight of so many Fire Fighters that caused me to swoon. It was nearly an hour later before I was allowed to go home and to add insult to injury I had not managed to donate enough for it to be even registered, so I still could not say I was a blood donor.
Of course that put me off for a while. I had one more attempt before having the kids but the same thing happened as in Crewe (minus the eye candy this time).
During the emergency c-section I had for the twins I lost nearly a litre of blood. I was very close to needing a blood transfusion of my own. Just a few months after becoming eligible to give blood again, I was pregnant again. So there was no opportunity for me to give blood for about 4 years. But I held on to the fact that because I had not had the blood transfusion at least I could in the future.
Two years after Lewis was born I tried again.
Managed to give 'almost' a full donation before the line was ripped from my arm and my legs were raised in the air again, sigh.
This time the staff talked to me and stated the obvious - me and blood donation was not a good combination :) I knew they were right.
But 2 years ago I tried again! And I did it, woo hoo! Took longer than everyone else in the place and needed a lot of assistance during the donation despite having had an afternoon nap, drinking plenty of fluids and eating loads of chocolate beforehand. I needed extra rest afterwards but I had remained conscious!
Then in May this year I went back again and gave a full donation without a single problem, for the first time the staff were not swarming around me and keeping me at the refreshment table for ages - I was allowed to leave when I wanted to, yeah!
Still thinking this was a bit of fluke I turned up yesterday to try again. Success again! I've got another appointment in December and that first target of 10 is looking achievable.
For me donating blood really was a case of 'if at first you don't succeed ....'
Now then that reminds me of the 6 attempts it took me to pass my driving test, PMSL
Tuesday, 26 July 2011
Baked Camembert ....
... is my latest guilty secret. I love it! It is no secret to those who know me that I could easily survive for the rest of my life only eating the food groups bread and cheese so I'm left to wonder how it has taken me so long to discover Baked Camembert.
I making up for lost time though - I've got through 3 of those little boxes of delight in the last week alone, OMG!
There is no recipe involved but this is how I baked it if you are interested - How to bake Camembert
I making up for lost time though - I've got through 3 of those little boxes of delight in the last week alone, OMG!
There is no recipe involved but this is how I baked it if you are interested - How to bake Camembert
Monday, 25 July 2011
I joined a group on Facebook a while back called 'I hate my kids Goldfish' and I meant it at the time. But tonight I am distressed by thought that the Goldfish (Oliver and Abigail) may be dying.
The Goldfish are 6 years old now. I have been the only one in the family ever to look after them. They have graduated through several fish bowls and tanks and now have a fully functioning aquarium with filter, lights, gravel, and too many decorations. As with most things in life keeping Goldfish can be an opportunity to shop!
Sooooo, having reared these Goldfish for 6 years despite being borderline phobic about fish in general I was feeling pretty chuffed with myself. Well you would, wouldn't you? Two weeks ago I added 5 Black Moor Goldfish to the tank. Tonight only 1 remains and Oliver and Abigail are looking pretty rough. I've done all that I can as there is no obvious cause of death. The usual culprit is White Spot apparently and White Spot is very easy to spot on black fish - it's not White Spot. I've done quite a bit of filter cleaning / changing, water changing and additional of liquids from bottles bought at various pet shops in the area but nothing has worked and now I am just about out of options.
I'm feeling distressed to think that my arrogance has caused this - hey, I've raised two Goldfish - I must be good at this! Apparently not!
Some pics - I'm not a great photographer so add in some glass, water and moving targets and this is what you get, ha ha.
The Goldfish are 6 years old now. I have been the only one in the family ever to look after them. They have graduated through several fish bowls and tanks and now have a fully functioning aquarium with filter, lights, gravel, and too many decorations. As with most things in life keeping Goldfish can be an opportunity to shop!
Sooooo, having reared these Goldfish for 6 years despite being borderline phobic about fish in general I was feeling pretty chuffed with myself. Well you would, wouldn't you? Two weeks ago I added 5 Black Moor Goldfish to the tank. Tonight only 1 remains and Oliver and Abigail are looking pretty rough. I've done all that I can as there is no obvious cause of death. The usual culprit is White Spot apparently and White Spot is very easy to spot on black fish - it's not White Spot. I've done quite a bit of filter cleaning / changing, water changing and additional of liquids from bottles bought at various pet shops in the area but nothing has worked and now I am just about out of options.
I'm feeling distressed to think that my arrogance has caused this - hey, I've raised two Goldfish - I must be good at this! Apparently not!
Some pics - I'm not a great photographer so add in some glass, water and moving targets and this is what you get, ha ha.
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