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  • The fear of fatherhood

    How many books have been written, procrastinating about the joys and perils of parenthood? I dunno, a lot - I've read most of 'em.

    There are a few books on fatherhood too - though God knows women up and down the country are attaching pictures of half naked women in an attempt to get their partners to read them.

    The 18 pages they call it - the average woman gives her partner over 700 pages of 'pregnancy reading' while she's up the spout - he reads an average of 18 of those pages. Well, I gave my DF around 1300 pages of reading while we were waiting for DD, and he read about four. And that was only because I started wailing and throwing things in my hormonal state (yes, we do use hormones as an excuse for everything - and why shoudln't we?).

    But when the baby comes, the men presume that we are born with the knowledge of mothering - the maternal instinct. According to the male brain, this wonderful instinct means we always know what's the matter with said child, never get it wrong, and can magically stop crying like a lightswitch. Nothing to do with the fact that we spend 18 hours a day cuddling, changing, b-feeding, playing, and bathing our new little bundles.

    As I said to DF some months ago, when he was confessing that he felt useless with DD compared to me, if we were both learning a new language, and I practised 18 hours a day, and he practised four hours a week, who would learn the language first?

    And for the record, it's got nothing to do with 'maternal instinct' - it's because I bothered to read the frigging books!

    And my DF is very hands on. Changes, feeds and stimulates on demand. Has watched her for one evening a week since she was two weeks old so that I can go out with my non-mummy frineds and keep a tenuous grip on my sanity, and takes over as soon as he gets home. And he ENJOYS it, which is important. But he still got that I-can't-swim-and-I-have-no-raft feeling, even though I've always encouraged him.

    When DD was born, for the first week DF put her nappies on far too loose. Whenever he changed her I'd wait till he left the room and then re-do the nappy. But I never said a word, because why does it matter? I'm encouraging him to be good parent.

    And this is where so many couples go wrong.

    The woman doesn't trust the man to get it right (Why have a child with him then?) and snipes, and controls, even though she's trying to be 'helpful', and the man of course, who's confidence is already shaky, backs off and withdraws completely. Two years later, the woman moans that he does nothing to help. Pathetic.

    I could go on and on, but the whole point of this post is that DD is sick today - she has some mental sneezes this morning and for a second I thought her brain was coming out through her nose. I gotta go check she's ok - although I can hear her shouting at herself, and she sounds fine.

    The point is, new mums and mums-to-be out there, I know it's hard (I am an anal retentive control freak myself - so if I can do it anyone can), but back off your men! Otherwise you'll end up with three kids and stretchmarks, screaming like a banshee daily, a resentful male living n your house and you'll hate him for not helping you with the kids more, even though he tried it once and you made him feel an inch big. . .can you blame him for preferring to watch telly?

    Men aren't hard to figure out, not like women, all you gotta remember is ego ego ego. If you bruise it with something like this, it's not like he'll refuse to be put down and resolve to fight for his share in the nappy changing.

    Too many Mother's nowadays are martyr's when it comes to their kids.

  • Seasonal Affective Disorder . . or PMS?

    The wind makes me crazy. It actually infuriates me to the point where I want to punch something. I know it sounds a bit psycho, getting angry with the weather, but I HATE WIND.

    It's bad enough when you've just left the house and your mascara is fresh, without not only the blinding sun, but the f-ing wind blowing straight in your face. And don't be fooled into thinking that sunglasses offer any protection from either the sodding sun or wind. Your eyes will water like hell, especially with that eyeliner on, and your skin goes blotchy, and so you look like you've been watching RSPCA or NSPCC ads on your mobile (is it just me that bawls every time they come on the telly?)

    And the baby! God, it's so infuriating! It's like something slapping her in the face, and you can't even put the rain cover on to protect her from the wind because of the f-ing blinding sun!

    Mind you, she doesn't seem to mind. She actually opens her mouth wide and sticks her tongue out when the wind hits her face, as if to taste the air. Strange child.

    And back to the blotchiness, she gets it too, red blotches around her eyes, so that she looks like one of those children that's fed tinned spaggetti and E numbers from four months.

    I am the only person I know that actually gets irritated to the point of violence by the weather. Hmm . . .maybe I should go back to counselling.

  • First post

    Ooh, I just posted a really long introductory post and my sodding pop up blocker meant I lost it, really cannot be bothered to type it all out again so will introduce myself gradually.

    As a quick post, I'm female, 24, Mum to my 9 month old daughter, my mouth is too big for my brain and I have plenty of plenty to say.

    Which is why I've created a blog. Although I'm unsure who will want to read my rants. . . anyway, not sure how this works, but I'll get into it.

    I'm gonna be posting my musings as a Mother, (still freaking out about it a bit), and I love to answer questions (love the role of agony aunt - although I'm not soft) so if anyone for any reason wants advice form a 24 yr old working class girl from SE London, get in touch! LOL!

    I'll also be posting memeories from my not-so-nice past (the only way to heal is to feel) and rants about various people I don't like, mainly my Darling Husband's FOO!

    Ok, not so much of an explosion of a first post, but we'll get there.

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