Essiequard's blog

Birthday Fun

Jude turned 7 week.  On his birthday I ran into the midwife who had delivered him, for the first time in those intervening years.  She is the person who inspired me to become a midwife.  I blame her entirely.

Jude spent some of his birthday in tears, lamenting that it didn't feel like his birthday.  I told him I could relate.

Anyway, I must go.  I'm off to run my first (and I am sure I can safely say my last) marathon.  Wish me luck.

Rocks at Bradgate Park

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QotD: My Compliments

What's the last compliment you gave and/or received?
Submitted by MalieKai.

I am neither very good at giving, or receiving compliments.  I often think complimentary thoughts about other people and then forget to verbalise them.  That is, apart from to my kids who must hear at least 20 compliments a day from me.  If I compliment Hyrum he will just say it straight back to me.  Our conversation may go like this:

Me:  Hello gorgeous Hydro!

Hyrum:  Hello gorgeous Mummy!

You see, not very inventive but everyone feels good at the end of it.

A few days ago I was picking up Jude from Beavers and one of the mums there said to me 'You're looking very slim' and I am afraid to say that I did the most awful things and said 'Oh but I feel rubbish'.  There was a pause for a few seconds before I realise my social faux pas and tried to redeem myself by adding 'What I meant to say was thank you very much!'.

In her excellent book 'Watching the English:  The Hidden Rules of English Behaviour' by anthropologist Kate Fox she explains how the rules of compliments work of the English. 

'English female bonding-talk often starts with a ritual exchange of compliments.  In fact this can be observed at almost every social gathering of two or more female friends....Observing the many variations of this ritual, and often participating as well, I have noticed that the compliments are not exchanged at random, but in a distinctive pattern, in accordance with what I came to call the 'counter-compliment rule'.  The pattern is as follows.  The opening line may be a straight compliment, such as 'Oh, I like your new haircut!' or a combination of a compliment and a self-critical remark: 'Your hair looks great; I wish I had gorgeous hair like you - mine's so boring and mousy.'  The counter-compliment rule requires that the response to either version contains a self-deprecating denial, and a counter-compliment, as in 'Oh no!  My hair's terrible.  It gets so frizzy - I wish I could have it short like you, but I just don't have the bone structure; you've got such good cheek bones.'  This must be countered with another self-critical denial, and a further compliment...and so the ritual continues.  There are social 'points' to be gained by making amusing, witty self-critical remarks - some English women have turned this kind of humorous self-deprecation into an art form, and there can almost be an element of competitiveness in their one-downmanship.'

There you go.  That explains everything.  I am just too English to give or receive compliments correctly.

He Doesn't Ask For Much

Hyrum presented me with this list the other day:

What I want: a nintendo wii with sonic and the secret rings, more DS games, one set of those indian drums with the black spots on to help the sound vibrate, lots of packets of blue-tack, white-tack and green-tack, some vans and some new crocs because Jude won't let me have them and he's faking and if he wasn't faking he wouldn't of went in the water when we went swimming, he wouldn't of carried on stepping on his 'stubbed' toe and he wouldn't have been running around at play time.  I would also want some mini-con toys that Jude has got, some lip balm, my hair trimmed, a new set of scriptures, a book to read thats new, ink for the computer so we can print something off, a pet and some money and fossils, cristals, rocks and toys from borders and to go to a friends house when I want, MP 3 player batteries or ipod, a watch like mums new one, a holiday at america, piano lessons, a parachute, a phone and rock braclets and rings, a couple of doughnuts, some game boy advance SP games, some more blue-tack, a private jet, some plants, permission for me to use the computer when its got ink so I can print something on, PS 3, new play station games and us not to move house please and to have a skate board (a bit), not to do any chores or homework and to play with mum and dad, a couple of marlas (Ed note - Marla is the name the children use for their special blankets) and more marlas and enough marlas to flood my bed, some food, to sleep with mum and dad, one or two sweets, for mum to have jewels and be a googleplexaire and for dad to have the speedyist car in the world and to be a googleplexaire and for me to have all the stuff on the note apart from mums and dads stuff and to be a googleplexaire, to have more shoot outs and have lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of marlas and money! And also I would want a dozen school trips for school, a jet pack, rocket shoes, all guns, swords, shields and marlas, a hug with mum and dad and a bed time story please.  Also I would like a robot slave to do what ever I want.

 

I'm glad I've raised an eight year old with the right priorities.

 

Reality check

Yesterday was a hard day at work. I am currently doing a placement on an assessment clinic which offers ante natal care to women who have any problems such as pre-eclampsia, previous third degree tears, diabetics and so forth.  Yesterday a lady came in who, at 39 weeks pregnant, had not felt her baby move for a number of hours.  We have many women coming in for this reason.  They are checked, put on the monitor, reassured and sent home.  I was sent to admit this lady and put her on the monitor.  For the first time in my training I couldn't find a fetal heart. The couple were so lovely.  She couldn't speak any English, but he kept asking me 'Is the baby ok?  We are just worried about the baby.  We are so excited and have everything ready!'.   I told the midwife I couldn't find a heart beat, she also tried, but not for long, before the lady was sent for a scan where it was confirmed her baby had died.  She didn't want anything doing at the time, just wanted to go home.  She will come back in today.  I lay in bed last night thinking 'What are those parents going through right now?'. 

I am so grateful to live in a country which has such excellent health care for all but sometimes babies die and we will never know why.  It made me think yesterday about people (one person that I know in particular) seem to get so caught up in bitterness and pettiness, when really they have nothing to complain about.  It's all a case of where you're coming from.

Out of The Mouths of Babes

I had a lovely Mothers Day on Sunday.  Damian bought me a beautiful watch, as I had lost mine when we went to Devon a few weeks ago. (Then I found it again yesterday, oops!).  The children made me cards and gifts at school and Beavers.  Jude penned this at school:

My Mum

I hope I can help you one day.  I know you need help.  I hope you have a great Sunday.  I know you are a great help to us.  I know you love me very much and I love you very much.

How did my six year old get to be so perceptive?  'I know you need help'.  That just about sums it up!

Happy Mothering Sunday

Happy Mothers Day to all mothers everywhere!  As I sit and write this it is currently snowing outside.  My plans to take the children on a lovely spring walk to see all the new born lambs are thwarted.  The weather has been so gorgeous here, I just love England in the spring. 

Last Sunday Damian took the children to Bradgate Park for a walk while I was working.  He snapped this shot of them, which is one of my favourite pictures of them, ever. 

 

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Three years ago we paid an obscene amount of money to have family photographs taken at a very prestigious studio.  At times I still wonder why we paid so much money for these portraits, but there we go.  What struck me about the photo that Damian took is it's similarity to the professional one we have hanging in our kitchen.  Three years on and the children are still jumping in the same kind of way!

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Classic TV

Last night we watched Comic Relief, which always has the same effect on me every time.  That is crying (while trying to hide it from the kids and Damian) and reaching for the phone and donating a large sum of money. 

For me the highlight of the evening was the Catherine Tate sketches, with Tony Blair, David Tennant and Daniel Craig.  If you are not familiar with Catherine Tate's character Lauren Cooper, or the show Dr Who you may not find it as amusing as I did.

David Tennant and Catherine Tate sketch

Catherine Tate (AKA Lauren Cooper) meets Tony Blair

Catherine Tate and Daniel Craig - Comic Relief

My suggestion

If you only watch one film at the cinema this year then may I suggest that you watch 'Hot Fuzz'.  Damian and I went to see it on friday night and even I couldn't fall asleep in it.  I don't even normally laugh aloud at films or television shows (with the exception of 'Little Britain') but I couldn't help but do so during this film.  Some people were even clapping at the gags.  That is very un-English so I was quite shocked.

Stuff

This week has been an interesting one work wise.  I thought I would dislike working in the neonatal intensive care unit due to the fact that I am much more comfortable with normality surround birth.  I am also not interested in the nursing side of medicine, and on the neonatal unit there are only nurses, no midwives.

However, the experience has been great so far and the placement isn't over yet.  One of the most interesting things to occur was attending an eye examination for a baby born at 24 weeks (now 34 weeks).  The ophthalmologist was excellent, and I was able to clearly observe the clinical condition that they were observing for (Retinopathy of Prematurity).  I was amazed that I could clearly see a tiny baby's retina, and unfortunately everything that was wrong with them.  As the baby was Grade III ROP she was transfered across site for laser surgery straight away.  This is a very rare condition and the procedure is only performed about 8 times a year at the unit where I work, which is one of the biggest neonatal departements in Europe.

One of the hardest things has been observing a mother with her baby who is....well, how can I put this?  Barking mad?  Do-lally-tap?  Madder than a box of frogs?  She hasn't actually got a diagnosis yet, as she awaiting her mental assessment.  In the mean time she has to have supervised visits with the social worker as she is voilent, aggressive and a risk to her baby.  The first time I saw her she went over to the wrong baby to start with (it was even the wrong ethnic origin).  When her partner pointed out to her their real baby she spent the next five minutes swearing 'That's not my '*****' baby, it's too '****' small.  My baby was '****' fat!'.  Eventually she seemed to come round to the idea and picked him up, while I watched with my heart in my mouth, trying to figure out if I could out run her should she make a break for it, baby in arms.

I have just spent a wonderful afternoon with the kids while Damian did man things.  As I type I can hear the sound of a chain saw and smell a bonfire.  He is obviously in his element.

I took the children to the museum in town.  Now, I don't want to sound like I'm bragging but my children are above average intelligence.  I really wouldn't mind if they weren't, we don't know where it comes from and we haven't done anything to particularly encourage it, they just are.  But even I was surprised when we were in the museum gift shop and Hyrum saw a print and said casually 'Look mum, it's a Henri Matisse'.