#DAREcember - Week 2

I came to realise this week that this challenge is contributing to my mental health. Funny to think that a style challenge could do that, but for me, it's working two-fold. Firstly, I'm being mindful; I'm really being present when I'm getting dressed, adding accessories etc. And recently some fellow counsellor friends asked me what I'm doing for self-care. As well as the usual getting enough sleep, doing some girlie pampering, etc, I realised that I'm doing this challenge for me. Not for my clients, colleagues, Pickle, BigTed or anyone else, just for me. So this is how Week 2 panned out...

Day 8 was In the Wild, slim pickings here, it was either going to be my cow print sneakers or my leopard print scarf. The day came around and it was way too hot to consider having the scarf around my neck, so I wore it as a belt. Pickle chose my earrings and the colour of my hair clip, so I chose the green top to coordinate. Of course, trying to capture this resulted in my second "awkward bathroom selfie", the first being here. I love that this constitutes a work outfit these days!

All Black for Day 9 was really out of my comfort zone. I never wear all black and I struggled not slip on a bright pair of shoes... I couldn't resist adding a splash of colour with some bright red heart earrings a friend gave me. As it was a work day, I'd initially selected a sensible pair of ballet pumps... Then saw these heels sitting next to them and it was a no-brainer. I love these shoes and they are surprisingly comfortable.


Pinned On for Day 10 gave me a good excuse to dig out the vintage brooches I've been collecting. I love how the prettiness contrasts with the utility of the denim vest, so think I'll keep one on the collar from now on. Pickle chose my earrings again today, he's becoming my regular stylist!  I love "twin" earrings, though they're hard to come by - not a matching pair, but part of a set.

Day 11 for His, saw me doning the only shirt of BigTed's that was at my house. Good thing I like it... I nipped it in with a belt "borrowed" some years ago from a former boyfriend. This was perfect for a day of Christmas shopping in 32°C.

Brightest for Day 12 was much more in my comfort zone. I *love* colour. Today was my work Christmas lunch, so I got glammed up to hang with the girls. I had a divine pasta, glass of wine and indulgent dessert at Café Cavour, which I highly recommend, not only for the piquant food, but for the top notch customer service. My brightest day dress was a relatively new purchase, but with cost-per-use, I'll soon be in single figures... Pickle again chose my earrings, a green flower drop; hot pink shoes and red lip tar complete the outfit. Hair up in my latest favourite look, red glitter and gold nails, and I was ready to go. Do you think I'm bright enough?!

I cheated a little for Day 13's Killer Heels, as the actual day started out at kindergym and on general Mummy duties... Not really Killer Heel appropriate! However, I was heading out on Day 12 for dinner with a couple of the girls and our men for a glamorous Christmas get together that evening... And it went late, so technically I started Day 13 wearing this outfit (artistic license and all that). I kept the dress bright - I purchased this dress years ago in Paris (sorry, had to drop that in there), with one of my favourite people in the world (Chaz, do you remember?). Adding in my rose gold shoes and vintage accessories, I was ready to head to Coast, by far the swishest restaurant in the region. It deserves it's own blogpost, which will feature soon.

Backless for Day 14 is a little out of my comfort zone these days. I actually used to wear this top as a dress(!), and have been thinking of donating it, as it so rarely gets an outing. I dressed it down with white jeans to take Pickle to see Paddington the movie today,  and added a pop of colour to the monochrome with my favourite red Converses and the red heart earrings again. The movie was great btw, but watching Pickle's expression was the best bit. 

Tune in for more next week... vintage, ring bling, mixed prints, curves, cats eyes, rock out, and product free... definitely some there well out of my comfort zone!

Was there anything that caught your eye this week? 

Cheers, KangaRue :) 

#DAREcember (not a fashion blogger!)

While I certainly wouldn't call myself a fashion blogger - I just don't think I'm that stylish - though I do love my shoes, handbags, earrings, hats, scarves etc. And this is (I suppose) a lifestyle blog... Well, a blog about my life with Pickle anyhow (is that the same thing??).

One of the bloggers I've been following on social media for a while is Fox in Flats, and while she regularly runs style dares, I've never had the chutzpah to join in before. Now that I'm back at work, and am feeling fitter and more confident with our new simplified lifestyle, I thought I'd take part in #darecember.

Stacked up was the first challenge. Working as a counsellor, I took a bit of a twist on this one, and wore my mental health rubber bracelets stacked against a simple black dress for the day (turquoise earrings and hair-clip completed the colour injection). If you'd like to seek support and are aged 12-25 years old, then check out headspace; additionally and for those outside that age group BeyondBlue is a great resource and why not check out World Mental Health Day's suggestions too.

Today is braided... Now I'm not adverse to the odd French plait.  But it felt a bit of a cop-out to go with something I regularly do.  So, loving a bit of asymmetry, I went for a one-sided braid.  Now trying to get a shot of this was a trifle more difficult.  I call this one "awkward bathroom selfie".

So what do you think so far?  Are you tempted to join me? 

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Degrees of doldrum

I'm done!  After taking the best part of 8 years to complete my degree, I've finally finished.  And truth be told, it's been a little anticlimactic.  I was expecting a huge rush of triumph... but it didn't happen.

Finishing up was spread over a couple of months.  I handed in my last paper, a few weeks later I got the results.  Then I had to finish the practical aspects... the required client hours and clinical supervision.  The final supervision session was delayed as I ended up in A&E with Pickle (who had fractured his arm, but coped really well in plaster and is fine now)... and then it was done.

I had to finish up at my placement venue as I was no longer a student, yet the required meetings and paperwork hadn't been completed in order to offer me a position.  So I set to spring cleaning my house, de-cluttering our wardrobes and the accumulation of toys (this is still a work in progress).  I had the meetings, signed the paperwork and a couple of days later I was back in the workplace having only missed two days of work (I've chosen to work part-time as a good balance for my own mental health and well-being particularly as a single parent).

The beautiful flowers on my desk at work
with obligatory photo of my gorgeous Pickle

BigTed sent me a gorgeous bunch of my favourite flowers to celebrate my first day as a fully-qualified paid counsellor... and as they are opening up they smell stunning.

And don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic that I was offered a position doing the work I love.

Over the coming weeks I'll need to do some delightful paperwork *yawn*, to apply to graduate... in May 2015... so I'm not sure when, or even if, I'm going to a celebratory *woohoo* moment.

Has this ever happened to you?  Did you get your *woohoo* eventually?  What triggered it? And what happened if you didn't get that lightbulb moment?

Cheers, KangaRue :)
BAppSocSc (Couns)  - well, that's the first time I've written that and admittedly it feels pretty good

Freaking Out

That's how I'm feeling right now. I've got a major assignment looming, am only current on the current week of my university work (as opposed to ahead so I can actually *do* the assignment), the house is a mess, I need to find a second student placement (and believe me the first one was a struggle to find though it ended up awesome). Oh, and somewhere in there I need to be a mother and have a life.

I had the flu for almost three weeks. Which meant any advances I made, promptly disappeared. And then we had three public holidays in a two week period. Now for most people, this means extra study time... but as a solo parent, not so much.

So I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. I felt my anxiety levels rising quite dramatically this morning. So I've done some mindfulness meditation - I am a little bit in love with Smiling Mind at the moment. I've then cracked on with it, asked my tutor for an extension on the assignment, and I'm using this post to clear my head a bit before hitting the books again.

Do you ever feel like a huge wave is about to come crashing down on you? How do you manage the anxiety it produces?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Nailed It

I've been seething since the weekend. A parent of one of Pickle's friends told him "you'll have to stop Mummy painting your nails in a few years". I turned around and politely told this man that Pickle actually asks me to paint his nails and chooses the colour each time.

The "offending" toes - outrageous!

I'm allowing Pickle to express his individuality as he wants. He wants to put the pretty colours on his toes, like Mummy does. Is he likely to want to conform to gender norms down the track? Probably. But it will be his choice, not something I'm going to force on him.

Pickle has a tea set, he has a baby doll he nurtures, along with a myriad of stuffed toys.  Not to mention Lulu and Hermes, who are subjected to his attentions he also adores. He also has a Buzz Lightyear, dinosaurs, light sabers, laser guns and a train set. He plays with the lot, in fact the dinosaurs often have tea parties.

As a society we're (still) figuring out that girls/women are as capable boys/men - if I had a girl, I'd be buying her Goldieblox.  If you don't know what they are, there are some excellent videos on YouTube here and here, and a fantastic TEDtalk.

Can we do the same for our boys/men please? (But in reverse, if that makes any sense?) They can be - and indeed are - loving, caring and nurturing.

Picture from Stonewall UK - a great resource site

And what about Rainbow individuals? As a counsellor, I particularly want to work with children, young people and their families. The risk figures around mental health and suicide sky-rockets for Rainbow youth. By raising Pickle to be accepting of all people, I hope he'll be an influencer in his generation on acceptance of all people.

If I painted that man's toe nails, would it change his sexuality or preferred gender? I promise to get off my soapbox soon, but would really love it if you watched this video that asks the question gay people get asked all the time... and this mind-expanding TEDtalk about transgender youth.

As a girl, I think I had the best of both worlds, I had dolls (and cats) I dressed up, but I also climbed trees, and rode both a bike and a skateboard... I'd like for Pickle to have the same opportunities.

Do your boys paint their toe nails or play with tea sets? Do you allow your girls to build with blocks or train sets? 

Cheers, KangaRue :)

PS. Thanks for allowing me my rant!

I'm a cyclist. And a mother.

I've just got back from the Hervey Bay police station, after having a very near miss with another car this morning. There have been a number of incidences since I started cycling in Hervey Bay (after years of cycling on the much narrower, more congested and busier London roads). While the other incidences have been due to the lack of care and ignorance of the drivers, this one was reckless and possibly even malicious. Worse yet, I had 2-year old Pickle on the cargo-bike with me.

I follow the road rules. Unfortunately it appears that many local drivers aren't aware that cyclists are legitimate road users. That we are allowed to take the centre of the lane on a multi-lane road*. I had been keeping to the left even on multi-lane roads, but found the ridiculously close passing put me in more danger than if I kept to the middle of my lane, though I now receive aggressive horn blasts and abuse hurtled at me through open car windows.

Don't get me wrong, the majority of drivers are friendly, safe and welcoming. In fact, on the way home a car slowed down and waved encouragement - this was not the first time. In addition to favourable goodwill from drivers, I've also had enthusiasm from motor-bike riders and pedestrians; young, old and middle aged people.

So why, when it takes an entire 15-minutes to drive from one end of Hervey Bay to another, do some drivers have such an aggressive sense of entitlement on the road?

The Amy Gillett Foundation has a vision to eliminate bicycle related fatalities and is spreading the word about 'a metre matters'. There is currently an e-petition that will be put in front of the Queensland Legislative Assembly in four days time, advocating for a minimum safe passing distance - I would love it if (as a Queensland resident or citizen) you would please sign it. Aussies can also easily write to their MPs (templates and contact details).

Others have written more eloquently about a cyclist always coming off worse
in a collision with a motor vehicle - there's not only the unprotected impact, but the risk of being thrown into - under - the path of another car. Though I can't seem to find any links to the articles at the moment, unfortunately. (See update below).

I'm a single mother, caring for a two year old. Part of simplifying my life, not least reducing the exorbitant
costs of car ownership (purchase price, tax, insurance, petrol, maintenance etc) has been to go car-free. I'm also physically and mentally healthier, am introducing Pickle to a healthier way of life in an era of increasing obesity, and just generally enjoying our day-to-day life more fully.

How do we get a message out to drivers that cyclists are not only legitimate road users, but (in my case) also someone's mother, daughter, sister, friend???

Cheers, KangaRue :)

* this is not meant as legal advice; road rules can differ from state to state within Australia.

UPDATE: An incredibly well put article: In the US and the Netherlands, two children on bikes are struck by cars—and the responses couldn’t be more different. 

Pickle's Ponderings

I believe that Pickle ponders. He may only be two years old, but he has an amazing recall and I do think that he reflects. I try and spend some time at the end of each day remembering the good things he experienced and his achievements throughout the day. I'm not saying he's amazingly gifted, though perhaps he is (hey, I'm a proud Mummy after all)... and maybe I've been encouraging Systems Thinking without even realising it.

After watching the below video - which is part of my current study materials - perhaps I'm not so barmy after all.  The concepts in this video blew me away, and is well worth the ten minutes of viewing - I honestly do not know anyone who couldn't learn something from it...

Simple concepts, and something I would love to see more involved automatically throughout education, needless to say the wider community (I won't start ranting about Australian politics and the media, promise!).

So what do you think, is it possible for a two year old to ponder? Are there any other ways you can suggest I can include Systems (Reflective) thinking with Pickle?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Car-free at last!

It has been a while since I've blogged. Many apologies to my discerning readers... while I doubt many (any?) of you have been waiting with bated breath for my next installment, I do have lots to tell you.

The beautiful bride, Pickle's
Aunty Catherine & his new Uncle

In the interim not only have I been studying, but Pickle and I travelled across the country to see my Outlaws, for a family wedding and so BoyWonder could visit with Pickle too. Pickle was obviously a hit, they were very welcoming, it was good for that side of the family to get to know Pickle more, and was relatively angst free. Sure, there were some *ahem* challenging moments, but considering the situation (divorce, annual visitation etc.), it could have been a lot worse.

I've given up trying to find paid work in the Mental Health industry - the jobs I have applied for have each had 135+ applicants. As a Student Placement is required to do the next few subjects and in order to complete my counselling degree, I decided it would be pertinent to offer myself up as a volunteer. Now, being a hard-working, enthusiastic, engaged advocate for all areas of mental health, with a Distinction average for my subjects, you think I'd be snapped up, right?

There was lots of opportunity
to try out Pickle's "muddy puddle
boots" (I blame Peppa Pig)

Apparently not in Hervey Bay. I've called upward of SIXTY organisations, with no luck so far. Some have seemed promising, then the return phone calls dry up. Frustrating only begins to describe it. I'm pondering whether there is any point even trying to finish my degree.

On a brighter note, I now have my cargo bike. Pickle and I are car-free! Avid readers and my Twitter followers (those I mentioned earlier, hanging on with bated breath, no doubt) will recall my moaning about the disastrous saga that started almost a year ago with the first cargo bike company I dealt with. The Dutch company based in Melbourne was a complete customer service fail. Firstly an incorrect stock count meant none of my first four colour preferences were available, then shipping delays (admittedly out of the distributor's control)...

So the bike that I had hoped to receive in early December, then promised pre-Christmas 2012, eventually arrived on 12th January 2013. Except it wasn't the e-bike I had ordered and paid for. And that's when the somewhat patchy customer service to this point, took an absolute nose-dive; I was talked-over, condescended to and insulted. So it was arranged that this bike would be sent back and I would get the new bike in two to three weeks.  I was promised - in three separate written messages - that the bike would arrive fully assembled, and I would only need to put four bolts in to attach the box to the bike.

And then the bike arrived on 4th February 2013. Not only was it not assembled, it was missing not only the lights, but the entire braking system... a somewhat key element to safe riding, don't you think?

Our first ride on our
Christiania cargobike!

Needless to say, the bike was returned and I went back to the drawing board... and via Twitter, I was recommended the lovely Peter at PSbikes.

You can fit a surprising amount
in the cargobike!

While there was a delay in getting the bike, it was more than made up for by the charming customer service I received with door-to-door delivery, fully assembled and customised! The Christiania bike is made in Denmark, and I believe the Scandinavian engineering is slightly superior. Both Pickle and I love the bike and it's been getting lots of attention on our outings.

Pickle "drumming" with BigTed

On an even brighter note, things are going really well with BigTed, but
more on that later...

Cheers, KangaRue :)

What if being straight was frowned upon instead?

I've mentioned before that I'm an advocate of the LGBT community, especially around youth support. As someone who empathises with the LGBT (GLBTQI) community, I thought I "got it". That is, until I saw the Love is all you need? video (below) earlier this week. It affected me so deeply, I was a sobbing mess by the end of it. And I'm not even hormonal at the moment. 

I almost didn't watch it, the premise is a little cheesy and it is quite long. But I'm really glad I stuck with it, as it is beautifully rendered. A simple concept, the genuineness displayed through both the writing and acting, allows this to avoid the cheddar territory.

So I'll take this opportunity to give you an early heads-up that WEAR IT PURPLE DAY 2013 is FRIDAY, AUGUST 30th. The last Friday in August is set aside to support rainbow young people, as everyone has a right to be proud of who they are.  Register your interest, be kept up-to-date or get involved by clicking here. Rest assured, I'll be making future posts closer to the date to remind you.

I'd love to know what you thought of the video? Will you wear purple on 30th August? Any ideas about hosting a Wear It Purple day?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

This is not a sponsored post, just something I believe in passionately.

Introspection (Tough Times)

I'm very good at keeping myself busy. Busy enough that I don't have time for self-reflection. Not blogging much in February - not even my Project 365 photos - is another way to avoid this, as I find blogging carthartic.

However yesterday, my work day, I sat down to answer a number of emails and also do some blog work that had me writing openly and honestly. And last night I had a proper cry.

The past year has been tough.

This time in 2012, I was midway through a two month trip from the UK to Australia. Sounds idyllic, right? But travelling on my own with a baby was nerve racking. The idea of it was far worse than the reality, though I didn't get much sleep in the 36-hours of door-to-door travel.

We visited Sydney, Hervey Bay, Sydney again, then Perth. All in all, there were seven flights. Pickle is a well-travelled munchkin. The last week in Perth with the Outlaws, was some of the most relaxing. Though I was still paranoid about my Mother-in-law judging me, not least when a newly mobile Pickle bumped his head on the coffee table. True to form (from my experience, not the stereotype), my MiL was über supportive and basically told me there would be lots more bumps and bruises and to let him get on with it.

So two days after arriving back in London, my then husband BoyWonder, announced that he no longer wanted to be married. This in it's own right was stressful as I'm sure you'd understand. But I still hoped we'd work things out. It wasn't to be, and our relationship counselling turned into divorce counselling on the second visit. Those fortnightly appointments were stressful too.

Meanwhile, remember I'm still raising an active and demanding baby.

So divorce proceedings with the ensuing paperwork, resigning from my job and explaining why, planning a relocation across the world... All while living in the same house as my ex; all stressful events right?

Don't get me wrong, BoyWonder and I have had the most amicable divorce of anyone I know - with the possible exception of my brother and his wife, who still run a business together. They were certainly our inspiration, but I doubt anyone wants to compete for that award.

I'm thankful every time I hear another divorce drama story. And there have been quite a few of those.

Leaving my adorable friends was certainly stressful. I miss them regularly. I've luckily made a few good friends already in Hervey Bay, but they can't replace the ones, in my heart, that I left behind.

Arriving to a "fresh start" (and remembering the 36-hours of travel with a now-toddler) wasn't quite what I'd anticipated.

I've struggled how to address the difficulties I've encountered, as it's not necessarily my story to tell. So I will cut to the chase and just say that, after an immense amount of additional and extremely unexpected stress, Pickle and I ended up living in emergency accommodation a week before Christmas. I'm lucky it was a house and not share accommodation - I'm really not sure how I would have coped with that (SilverLining anyone?!).

Trying to find rental accommodation was far more difficult than I'd imagined. It was just the wrong time of year and very few places were listed. It came down to the wire, as the emergency accommodation was only for ten weeks - I moved out the day before expiration.

I'd ordered a cargo bike as a car replacement. There were months worth of dramas there, which deserves it's own post and will arrive in due course. I'm starting from scratch on that front.

My shipping from the UK has been in the country since 5th January, but still hasn't been delivered. After chasing yet again, I found out yesterday that it's now "probably" due Monday. Which means I've had to reschedule appointments and don't have any childcare for Pickle.

Oh and I've got a frozen shoulder - an increasing interference and a painful one at that. Chiropractic treatment and one cortisone injection later (I've had to reschedule the second injection due to the imminent shipping delivery), I'm still in pain and I sometimes feel like I'm haemorrhaging money.

So that, in a nutshell, has been the past eleven months.

Yet, I'm still - relatively - positive. I'm enjoying a simplified life. I'm actioning my career change. Pickle has started day-care one day a week (hence my work day). I'm ready for him to be in day-care, which I certainly wasn't six months ago.

Sure, it's hard work being a single Mummy. I often don't get a break until an hour or so after he's gone to bed. But after washing up, folding laundry, putting his toys away, etc., I can have quality me-time. Or - most likely - quality vegging time.

And quite frankly, Pickle is frigging amazing.

So enough self indulgent rambling from me. Time to finger paint...

Cheers, KangaRue

Sydney Mardi Gras and LGBT Youth Support

I thought it would be timely, with the Sydney Mardi Gras Parade occurring tomorrow - and not due to my complete slackness of blog posting in February (yeah, right) - to comment on my friends vlogs and LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender) support.

My friend Brett is doing the slightly crazy admiral task of a daily vlog (video blog for the uninitiated). In a recent post he talked about gay youth support. Brett also referenced his brother Kevin's post which stated the irrelevance of whether sexuality is a choice. I wholeheartedly agree with both their posts. Kevin in particular makes some really well thought out and articulate posts about same-sex marriage.

I grew up in the unusual position of knowing a number of gay and lesbian family friends. I've only come to discover in adulthood, that this actually was unusual . I presumed most people knew someone not straight*.
As part of my counselling studies I undertook a research project focussed on the LGBT community. I was horrified to discover that it was an anomaly to personally know anyone LGBT before coming out; it was pretty much non-existent. This impacts who LGBT youth come-out to, and potentially unsafe introductions into LGBT life.

The presumption of heterosexuality and the need to come-out is a whole other discussion in itself. I wrote a paper on the negative impact homophobic-bullying (the second most common form of bullying after weight, in UK schools) can make on young people questioning their sexuality. The use of the word gay as a negative, is never OK.

I'm passionate about working with youth, particularly LGBT youth. But I'm wondering if I'm going to encounter resistance being hetero myself? Is there a place for a straight* but supportive person to work in a niche where I'll likely be the minority? I hope so, especially as I'm now living in a semi-rural community; I believe these kids need to know there are supportive people in the normal* world.

I love the Mardi Gras. I'm gutted that I'm not going to be there again this year, especially as I'm now in the right bloody country! But if young people only get to witness the extreme images, and not the day-to-day of openly loving families of all descriptions, then I will despair. For this very reason, I'm hugely excited that the Australian Armed Forces are finally able to walk in uniform. I have also explicitly told Pickle's nursery that I'm happy for them to discuss families of all descriptions.

I would love to know your thoughts? Will you tell your children's school that you're explicitly happy for them to discuss families of all kinds?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

* I could honestly rant for ages on the use of words like "normal" and "straight" in this context, but I'll spare you. For now.

Going Car-Free

When planning on our move to Australia, I had to decide what to do about my car aka the Purple People Eater.  The Grandparentals have been driving the PPE for 13 years now - I've owned her for 14... I was only planning on going to the UK for 12-months!

Rather than leave them stranded, I embraced the idea of a lifestyle change. Hervey Bay is relatively flat.  I love to cycle - I find it really mentally relaxing.  And while having Pickle behind me on my gorgeous vintage-style bike was OK, he was neither thrilled with looking at my back, but we also couldn't carry much in a pannier bag. Shopping, or even a day out would be tricky.  So I looked into cargo bikes and trialled one in Cambridge (very helpful chap up there, and I'm regretting not buying my bike from him in hindsight).

I decided on the Bakfiets brand of Dutch Cargo Bike.  It's not cheap, that is the major downside.  But they hold their value and are extremely well made.  The research I did into cheaper Chinese-made models varied from worrisome to downright scary.  So I decided to go with a classic, and after riding one, was hooked.

I thought the bike was going to be cumbersome, heavy and awkward.  Pushing off with all my strength, I wobbled as I'd over compensated.  The bikes are well-balanced by design.  It was easy to ride the Classic model, in both the Short and Long versions.  I decided on the Long version, which can theoretically fit four kids - or Pickle and a shed-load of shopping (and a friend or dog down the track perhaps).  But I'm getting the power-assisted model - the power only kicks in if you pedal... but I figure Pickle is only going to get bigger, and as a replacement to regular use of the car, when it's full and I'm going up a hill, it will be really helpful.

And I'll still have access to my car when it's needed - trips desperately seeking culture and old friends in Brisbane and Sydney for example.  In addition to the Grandparentals needing the car, the environmental impact and a healthier lifestyle, I really don't want the responsibility or the continual expense.

Unfortunately, there have been ongoing delays with my bike's delivery.  Firstly the stock count was wrong, and there were none in the four colours of my preference, only one in red, which is not really me.  And investing the money I am, I want a colour I'll enjoy.  Then there were shipping delays, so the new bike that was supposed to be delivered before Christmas arrived today.  Except it wasn't the e-bike I have paid for and need.  So two months after I was hoping to have my bike, I'm having to draw on my inner reserves of patience.  Going car-free will have to wait for another two or three weeks...

Any ideas of names for the bike please? Pickle's Pedals is the working title.  

And I'd welcome any suggestions for personalising the cargo box at limited cost, but with oodles of style please?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Head in the Sand

So the removalists have gone.  Accounts are being closed.  I'm almost packed. There is definitely an air of finality.

BoyWonder doesn't understand how I didn't realise things were bad before.

Perhaps my head was in the sand.  He neither came to my initial gynaecologist appointment, when I found out I was pregnant with Pickle, nor the 12-week scan, which was truly amazing, especially when Pickle did a somersault in-utero. 

Glaringly obvious signs in hindsight, though I know that some men just don't get "it". (Whatever "it" is, but I expect that's a whole other blog post.)

So right now, while we've metaphorically battered heads on occasion, but still generally get on well, it's just time to be a little sad.  I just need to remind myself that there are new beginnings and exciting adventures ahead for Pickle & I.

Divorce Solicitor & 4th Wedding Anniversary

If you'd asked me on my wedding day, what I thought I would be doing for my fourth wedding anniversary, it wouldn't have been "initiating a divorce".  And yet, that is how I spent the morning.

I didn't expect to feel physically ill as I prepared to leave home to head to the appointment.  Though once there, I was more worried about entertaining Pickle and providing the correct documentation.

I did spare a thought to the recent Divorce Counselling session, where our counsellor asked us how we'd be celebrating.  WTF?!  I know we want to stay friendly, but you don't celebrate a marriage when you're getting divorced.  At least BoyWonder thought the comment was as bonkers as I did.

And my SilverLining as my darling friends have reminded me, is a "new beginning".

Am I being harsh? Should I be cooking something special for dinner!

Mummy Olympics

The Olympics have commenced!  (Am I even allowed to say that, not being a major sponsor?)  And while I abhor the corporate machine grinding away, for me the Olympics is about the athletes who have worked their arses off preparing to do their best.  But there's another type of athlete, the Mummies out there, who are raising the next generation - a few Olympians among them - who I want to recognise today.  My darling friend Caroline, who has been an inspiration and a guiding light to me many times, has written about her very own Mummy Olympics...

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About me:

I'm normal, BC (before child) I was a normal woman who spent time with other adults and held adult conversations and did adult things, I went to the hairdresser, wore white or black clothes and always had my nails and make up done. AC (after child) it ALL seemed to turn to shit. I've been known to go from normal, to lost, to neurotic, to broken in less than 30 seconds; that coupled up with no hair/make-up/nails done etc. can only spell out one thing: NEW MOTHER! After 18 months of being a new mother I have finally grasped that the life I had as an in control, social adult, with time on my hands, is long gone and has been replaced with express hair stay-on make-up and patterned clothes, but it’s all good as the birth of our daughter, Lulah had put a whole new spin on things and it’s all good in my books.

The Mummy Olympics:
Apparently the Olympics comes every four years, as any mother without a nanny will know, every day is a challenge of strength, agility, speed and stamina. It all starts at the crack of dawn in mid-slumber: on your marks, get set, cue gunshot (aka 1st howl of the morning), GO! And we’re off… and then greeted with the most wonderful smile, which almost makes waking up so early worth it.

Breakfast/Lunch/Dinner shot-put: you so know that you’re going to have something fired at you at great speed, whether it be milk or porridge, whatever the substance you know you’re gonna get covered. Through trial and error, or because someone’s told you, we know NOT to get dress until after baba has finished eating.

Wrestling: or should I say the nappy wrestle, we long for the natural development of our children as we all love to see them do new things; once learned, this can make the simplest tasks turn ugly and Lulah is no exception for this. After a wriggly slam dunk on to the changing mat she’ll wrap her legs round my hands as I go for the tags, only releasing so that she can get a foot in the soilage, once feet are soiled it’s a race against the clock to get these bad boys clean and out of the offending area while legs are giving Michael Flatly a run for his money, once the nappy is off, so is she with a full body flip on to the front, meaning I have to release my grip or dislocate her hip. When I’ve managed to put her on her back again the turning stats again; Mummy raises both gripped feet higher to inhibit flip but Lulah is still going for it, one leg release and Mummy goes in with wipe, Lulah is then released and both parties allowed to return to their corners, Lulah is returned to the mat with Mummy holding the feet in one hand and finger looped in nappy with the other. SLAM the nappy is up and Mum finishes with the tags, Mummy is left to clean soilage from surrounding area. Note to self don’t wipe poo on one’s face.

Despite what she tells you, she still looks
glamorous - AND she's teaching Lulah about
all important accessorising!

Pin the nappy on the moving target: should Lulah not want to return to the mat we have a new sport of putting the nappy on the moving target, with knees like the soles of my feet (from being on them too long), I quick shuffle round the room trying to pin Lulah with one had while unsticking and re-sticking the tabs on each side, quite some task as mine and Lulah’s head clearance is considerably different even when I'm on my knees; catching up with said child I then have to rearrange her, but cheeks so both are covered, mission accomplished! Now recover and repeat with clothes.

Toy Volleyball: how is it that Lulah still hasn’t learned to throw a ball yet but she can launch a toy some distance so long as you’re the target? I have had every toy with corners that Lulah owns thrown at me at one point or another, her favourite have to be wooden blocks, light, sharp and easy to aim, I'm a typical girl I never could catch…. Until now. And how comes they never feel the need to throw something soft?

Poker: I was never able to lie, I still can’t, but the poker face is your best tool against a gorgeous little horror who thinks funny to draw all over themselves with your make up, or empty your mother-in-law’s pot plant on to her cream carpet, or open the curtains in a changing room. This was never truer than a few weeks ago when I experienced my first mouth injury, leaving Lulah covered in blood, wave of panic and distress hidden, cleaned up and calm child as if nothing’s wrong – unleash tears in to G&T later, whether it’s for good or bad you can’t let it show, god knows all you want to do is burst out laughing/crying in an uncontrollable mess or take a photo, but as a law abiding parent you can’t, poker face it every time! And make sure you have a very good memory.

The 5, 10, 50, 100+ Sprint: OK so we all want our babies to stand up, crawl or walk, it’s the most amazing thing in the world when you see these things for the first time, but be warned this is where the real fun begins . Like moths to a flame, children can travel at speed towards anything they like the look of. These little monsters spend how many months not moving then they are like lightening! This is never truer than in the mornings as I fold the pram up and put it away in the nursery’s shed. Our routine goes: Lulah climes out of the pram, I take my handbag off the back, remove any nursery supplies and she normally stands there and waits for me to close and store the pram; clearly cars and roads are THE most exciting thing in the world so she’s off, handbag open on the ground, stack of nappies, pram half done, WHAT DO YOU DO??? No one in their right mind wouldn’t go after their child but then there you hand bag calling ‘steal me, steal me, I'm valuable’; is this a quandary we will ever know the answer to? Gold medal to the lady who told me about handbag insurance on my home insurance.

The buggy child press: Something I only started to experience when Lulah started to be more confident with her walking, she now has an aversion to sitting in the buggy, and it’s like I'm asking her to sit on a spike. It’s funny how many knowing looks you get at the nursery at the end of the day, children all practicing their planking skills as they go stiff as a board as you try and sit them in the pram for a quick skip home, and don’t you just feel like the worst person in the world when they kick up one almighty stink. My answer, she wants to lie flat out? I flatten the buggy out, lay the planking Lulah in and strap in quick and sit ‘em up! Works every time.

The one handed chore: Having me do one handed chores is a favourite of Lulah’s, she loves nothing more than to demand a cuddle or pick up the very moment I need to do something, I think it’s a sixth sense she was born with. Since becoming a mother I have mastered many chores, like buttering toast with a child attached: sit child on worktop, put bread, toast etc. behind child and spread like mad, this is not time for measuring out weightwatcher points or making sure you get to the edges, baby doesn’t care! This same tactic can be applied to many other things: opening cans, bottles, jars, but for god sake don’t let them see what you’re doing, you’re on your own then, go-go-gadget hand will be deployed and will remove all items from said worktop at lightening pace. The one handed chore can be adapted for carrying things, you may not have noticed but you actually have 4 thumbs and countless fingers to complete this, no checking now these extra digits are very shy and only come out when needed how else would you carry a small wriggly one, fav toy, changing bag, muslin, keys and a skinny latte eh? Us mothers also gain amazingly superhero strong legs from all the squatting and bending while performing one handed tasks, unfortunately this comes at the expense of completely shot knees, can’t help you with this one. Gold medal to the person who invented the baby sling.

Endurance: as every parent will know endurance is the key to everything in this sport, you have to keep your wits about you 24/7 so the Lulah’s of this world don’t run riot and grow up to be ASBO horrors! I wish there was a magic spell which you could use at such times when your resolve has dissolved, or if there is no one has let me in to the secret. What I will say, is keep yours and your partner’s intentions the same in front of little horrors, that battle can be held later out of earshot. They learn fast, so we have to learn faster and don’t forgot that it will end soon and everyone is in the very same boat as you at one time or another, and for when all else fails, there’s always wine!

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Do you have any other events to suggest?

 Cheers, KangaRue :)

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Quite frankly, I'm hoping my SilverLining is somewhere very close over the rainbow... but for now I'm having some crappy days.  Wednesday was a good day, and hopefully tomorrow will be a good day too.  I've been quiet on the blogging front, so hopefully this post will explain why, on top of the usual being a Mummy, study and life in general excuses.

A couple of days after Pickle and I returned from Oz, BoyWonder* said he wanted a divorce.  (Nothing like burying the lead, hey).  I've been trying to work things out, but he's adamant that he's felt like this for some time and can't move beyond how he feels.  We tried two sessions of couples counselling, and while my goal is to work through our problems, build on our friendship and reconcile, his goal is for an amicable divorce, so there's not a lot for the counsellor to work with.

I'm pissed at him.  I think he's a numpty and will regret it down the track.  And that's being kind.  I'm angry, but most of all I'm sad.  I've been dealing with a good dose of denial as well - it's actually been months since this happened, and I guess I was hoping he'd change his mind, see the error of his ways or whatever.  I'm doing a good job of working my way through Kubler-Ross' stages of grief.

I had depression about four years ago.  It was my second time.  Most people who get depression will get it more than once.  BoyWonder* blames my depression for the downturn in our relationship and his subsequent depression.  It's an illness, you have to have a predisposition to it, a bit like diabetes say.  Believe me, I've argued 'til I'm blue in the face that I can't be blamed.  And I'll be the first to put my hand up to say I didn't pull my weight around the house when I was depressed.  But when he's running through a list of any and all of my failings from the past seven years of our relationship, it's no wonder it's not worked.

His inability to communicate is a major factor - he has one friend who he's been completely honest with, but talking to me a couple of years ago might have helped.  He admits he hasn't been successful either in opening up or when he has, not doing it successfully.  My lack of realisation just goes to show there's a reason people don't counsel those they know.

When we first started going out, within the first three months in fact, I pointed out our age difference (he's 9 years younger than me) and how I really wanted kids and eventually wanted to move back to Australia.  We agreed on the fundamentals.  Since then, BoyWonder* has changed his mind, or was previously only telling me what I wanted to hear.  I was naive enough to believe it.

And while I am trying to have a balanced, non-snarky post here (not least because my lovely in-laws might read this), he's starting to sound a bit like Mother-bloody-Teresa.  He's made some really horrible comments recently... mind you, I've stropped back with "you'll be rid of me soon enough" as well, so not my finest moment.  Thankfully they've been the exception to the rule, and I believe I've (generally) dealt with them in a calm and adult way.  But FFS, he's leaving me.  A little snark is surely allowed?

He wants to stay friends, and I think that will be possible, if we can get through the crappy stuff quickly.  We're trying to do the divorce bit as amicably as possible.  It would be good to stay friends in the long term, as he's still Pickle's Daddy, and we both want what is best for Pickle.

For now, that will mean Pickle, the cats and I move back to Australia in the near future; to be closer to our families, and at least in the same country as the friends I consider close enough to be family.  It will unfortunately mean leaving a few of my really close friends here who I love dearly, and who have been a great support.  I'm crying while I'm typing this now.  In the library.  Nice.

It will of course mean leaving BoyWonder* in the UK too.  We will set up regular Skype times for Pickle, but it won't be the same.  Down the track there will be visits.  We'll sort it out.  It won't be easy, but hopefully there will be a SilverLining.  Cross your fingers for me, OK?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

* well that pseudonym is going to have to change isn't it!  Alternate suggestions welcome, but Pickle's Daddy (PD) might have to suffice for now.

PS.  If you are family or friends reading this post, and this is how you found out, I hope you can forgive the mode of communication - quite frankly, it's exhausting to talk about.

73/366 - Hitting the Books

Trying to fit in study time being a new mum is, shall we say, somewhat challenging.  With Pickle being a baby that fights going to sleep, it can be hard to schedule study sessions and I sometimes end up studying late at night.  Tonight he didn't got to sleep until 9:30pm, so I was studying until just past midnight, and feel like I'm a little behind this week (guess what I'll be doing once this post is up!).

73/366 - 13 Mar 2012

This term I'm studying Mental Health Issues, so it's quite heavy going, but very interesting.  I always find it really interesting when I can relate aspects of what I'm learning to people I know in real life - the academics then become so much more meaningful, though sometimes painful and challenging.

Cheers, KangaRue :)

36/366 - Silly Snowballs

A raft of photos from our walk today, but I couldn't go past this one of BoyWonder.  He's made an enormous snowball and is throwing it in the air waiting for it to explode when it lands.  Between work, house renovations, the allotment, study and being a husband and Daddy, he doesn't get enough time to be silly - this was one of those rare occasions, and it was a delight to watch

36/366 - 5 Feb 2012

I'm a strong believer that silliness is a good thing, and extremely important for mental health.

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Fattening up babies?

I'll apologise now, as I think this might turn into a bit of a rant!

I was asked if Pickle was lethargic.
I laughed - it's the one word you
could never use to describe him.

We have a standing appointment at the weekly Child Health Clinic for Pickle to get weighed.  He was a small baby to start with (2.855kg), but other than losing a small amount of weight the first week (which is perfectly normal while my milk came in), he has gained weight every single week.  Despite this, the Health Visitors have been concerned at his level of weight gain, hence the weekly visits.  He has been a purely breast-fed baby, which generally have lower weights; I expect this is somewhat due to formula being higher in calories and/or because it may be easier to over-feed with formula.  I have no issues with anyone who chooses, for whatever reason, to formula feed their baby - I believe each Mummy needs to do what is best for her and her child.

I've seen other health professionals, including the nurse who has given Pickle his immunisations, who have said he is happy, alert and healthy and there is nothing to worry about.  While I know this in my heart, it can be very disconcerting to be questioned every single week.  I feel like I'm being scrutinised for under-nourishing my child.  Pickle is demand fed - generally around every two and a half hours... but if he's sleeping, there can be a four hour gap between feeds.  And if he's hungry, I'll feed him, even if he just ate half an hour beforehand.

He's hardly scrawny

I have asked three times now, for the breast-feeding only weight chart.  The first time I was told it didn't exist.  The same person went away on the second date of requesting to find out there is a separate chart, but they would have to get it in for me, to which I said "great, yes please"... the third time it was too busy being the first session since Christmas and New Year...

But then they wanted me to start him on a top-up feed with formula once a day.  I decided I was happy to do this, so off I trotted to the supermarket.  But after I picked up the cartons of formula, I really felt like I'd failed somehow.  It was a really horrible feeling.  I want to do the best for Pickle, and felt I'd faulted at such an early hurdle.  I didn't have the birth I'd wanted, but was happy that I was able to breastfeed him, as it was something I really wanted to do; and now I'd fallen short.  Not a logical reaction I realise, but it didn't hurt any less because of it.

I was told to top up his early evening feed, as Pickle seems hungriest at night. "He'll probably wolf down 150ml" they said.  Cue two hours of screaming while we forced 30mls (1oz) down him.  It wasn't good for any of us.

I tried a doidy cup the next night, and got - I think, as a fair amount went down his front - about 50mls down him.  Spooning went well, though was a slow process.  We tried a few different bottles and cups at my friend Caroline's house, and have bought the cup that he seemed to get on with the best - it's in the steriliser now, so hopefully we'll have better results tonight.

Pickle did put on 180g (7oz) this week, and is now 5.18kg.  So you think the Child Health Clinic would have been happy, right?  Nope, we have to go back again next week.  I was less passive this time though, as I pointed out that I'm 5'2", BoyWonder is skinny with a very fast metabolism, Pickle will be starting Baby-Led Weaning in just over a month and he also does 2 poos every single day (which is a lot for a breastfed baby, so he's obviously getting enough in him to produce waste), so I didn't see the point of talking to the Health Visitor when he'd had a good weight gain.  They didn't push it.  But no, I haven't seen the requested chart; though it's a moot point now I suppose.

All these photos were taken in the past month
- before his latest, big weight-gain

Since then, I've discovered that babies weight-gain tends to slow around 4-months, especially in breast-fed only babies (World Health Organisation, 2002; cited in Rapley & Murkett, 2008).  There seems to be an trend to fattening babies up to see them as "healthy", yet we have a growing obesity epidemic... surely not unrelated?  And making a new, and first-time Mummy feel this bad, isn't supportive and could lead to Post-Natal Depression; Mum's tend to judge themselves the most harshly, and need consistent knowledge provision, not unfounded criticism.

*rant over*

Has anyone else experienced similar with their child's weigh-ins?  What did you do?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

References
Rapley, G. & Murkett, T. (2008).  Baby-led Weaning: helping your baby to love good food.  Random House Group: Chatham, UK.
WHO/UNICEF (2002).  Global Strategy for Infant and Young Child Feeding.  WHO: Geneva, Switzerland.

The Pickling Process

Photo used with permission.

I feel like I had an easy pregnancy with Pickle, though with hindsight, it did have its tricky moments.

I came off the contraceptive pill in August 2010.  And then... nothing.  I wee'd on a stick a couple of months later, but it came up negative, so I went to the doctor to say that my periods hadn't returned and was told to be patient.  In my late 30s, and with patience never my strong suit, this was difficult to say the least.  So off to Australia on a planned holiday BoyWonder and I  went (along with my brother Wayne).  It was a surprise for my Mum and this, along with my parents wedding vow renewal, TV cameras in tow, deserves a blog post of its own.  One day, while walking on the beach, my Mum asked if I was sure I wasn't pregnant and I'm pretty sure I snapped back at her in frustration (sorry Mum!).  Back to London, and back to the doctors; it was now 11 weeks since I came off the pill and I still hadn't had a period.  A different doctor tried to put me off by telling me to come back at the three month mark... which would have been the following week, so having private health insurance, I pushed for a referral on spot.

The following week, I went to see the loveliest doctor.  He planned to do three investigations that day, but after the internal exam (not the most comfortable experience!), he switched the process around to do the internal ultrasound.  "I can see why you're not having your period" he said.  I held my breath imaging him saying polyps, cysts etc.  "You're about 7 weeks pregnant".  How I sat up from the position I was in I don't know, but I was thrilled and more than a little stunned - I really had imagined the worst.  And I do consider myself lucky to have become pregnant so quickly, as I've had a number of friends struggle with various difficulties.

The next thing was to keep quiet... probably my next greatest failing after patience!!  We held out until Christmas to tell our parents and a few close friends.  And just made it to the 12-week mark before telling work.  While I felt really tired to start with, I barely had any morning sickness, just the occasional day of nausea.  Again, I count myself lucky; one of my close friends threw up every morning of her first pregnancy, except for a week right in the middle.

So on I pottered, getting bigger.  I actually lost weight the first trimester, which I'm sure was due to not only being more conscious of what I was eating, but cutting out alcohol.

Then one day, at around the half-way mark, I was walking through Soho when I slipped on a grape that had been dropped to the pavement.  I went flying, but the worst of my injuries appeared to be a badly scrapped knee.  I still bear a large scar.  My lower back hurt, but I didn't think much of it.

Unfortunately, the lower back pain got worse.  I have a great Osteopath, so went to see him.  After a few treatments, when I realised that the pain wasn't so much in my back, as in my hips and across my pelvic bone, he diagnosed Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction (SPD).  Pregnancy hormones help loosen the ligaments and joints in order to gain room for the baby to grow and for the actual birth.  In some cases, the loosening can happen too soon and/or too much - in my case it was both, likely brought on by my slip and aggravating a prior injury.  The ligament that joins the pelvic bone at the front was over-stretching and tearing.  SPD isn't common, and isn't particularly well known.  It probably helped that my Osteo is married to a midwife, and he suggested a Maternity Support Belt - not exactly the sexiest thing alive, but it helped.  My GP had been fairly unhelpful up to this point, just putting it down to regular pregnancy heaviness, though he did later refer me to the hospital physiotherapist; my appointment was lost twice and the third appointment was eventually scheduled for after Pickle's due date.

I was - quite frankly - in agony.  I only realise how bad it was now that I'm no longer in constant pain.  I struggled to walk, and stairs were extremely difficult.  Getting up out of a chair was a struggle - and this was before the third trimester "I've swallowed a watermelon" ensued.  Living in a Victorian Terrace, which was also undergoing renovations, was less than a joy.  If I left something upstairs it generally stayed there, or I'd ask BoyWonder to go and get it.  While he was understanding, he couldn't really comprehend the extent of the pain, and eventually got fed-up with my constant requests.  Now that I will happily go and grab something from upstairs he has realised I wasn't 'putting it on'.

While Transport for London kindly supply "Baby on Board" badges, there is a certain person - generally young, male and wearing a suit - who will spot the badge and proceed to avoid eye contact at all cost.  I'm aware this is a sweeping generalisation, and was indeed offered seats by young men wearing suits during my pregnancy, but the number that fit the stereotype was laughable.  Early on in my pregnancy, I stood right in front of one of these guys, who was also sitting in a priority seat.  While I felt able to stand most days at this point in my pregnancy, I was getting a hot flash; it was -2 degrees Celsius outside, but I started stripping hat, gloves and scarf off and was fanning myself.  Eventually I had to ask to sit down (there was a little old lady sitting next to him and I wasn't going to oust her from her seat!).  He got up, but would it have killed him to offer?  I gulped down my bottle of water I'd thankfully brought from home - I think I would have fainted if I hadn't sat down at that point.  Standing on public transport with SPD though was ridiculous - I went three stops on the tube one day, and the act of balancing aggravated my pelvis so badly I was bed-ridden the following day.  Out of necessity, I would be the one saying "excuse me would you mind if I sat down?" to someone youngish and healthy looking.  I only had one person say no - well actually, the middle aged guy shouted "what, what!" in my face, and the chavvy looking guy sitting next to him that I thought would be unreceptive, hastily offered me his seat.

Years ago, my friend Joe studied hypnotherapy in London before returning to Australia.  At the time he mentioned that one day when I was pregnant, I would have to look into hypnotherapy for giving birth.  When telling him about Pickle, I asked him about it again.  He gave me a few questions to ask, which freaked out the first consultant I contact whose response was, shall we say, less than positive.  Luckily, I discovered Dany from Tums2Mums on Twitter, who was happy to answer my questions, and offered to meet BoyWonder and I prior to signing up for a HypnoBirthing course (which we started the following week).  The techniques and mp3s Dany provided not only helped me to remain calm and focused during the birthing process (more on that in a later post), but also for the remainder of my pregnancy AND helped with pain control for the SPD.  I was doing Pilates and yoga prior to becoming pregnant, and continued these for the duration of my pregnancy, which I'm sure helped with focus and calm... the latter not necessarily being one of my most natural states.

Photo used with permission.

I did end up on crutches for the last month of my pregnancy, but regardless of this, and other than the pins and needles that appeared in my hand, and the day I partially lost my eyesight for a couple of hours with subsequent headaches, and the cankles I was lumbered with towards the end, I still consider myself lucky to have had a relatively easy pregnancy, with my SilverLining no doubt being the gorgeous little boy that I am very thankful for.

Cheers, KangaRue :)