Posted by: miss cellany | September 16, 2007

I hate cars and traffic in general so much

That if I was in charge I would make people retake their test every year and no one would be allowed to learn till they were twenty five at least. You would also have to take some kind of stupidity test as well to eliminate boy racers and PEOPLE WHO CAN’T BE BOTHERED LOOKING IN THEIR BLOODY MIRRORS.There is a reason for my rant. My baby and I were almost pulverised by a van last week when the driver pulled out into the road having been parked and didn’t look to see that a woman who was INDICATING (rare in this town) was turing into a side road. Bam bash screech and the two of them careered onto the pavement a few metres from me and the buggy. And kept going. Reversing with a three wheeler is no joke when in a situation like this. I kept looking at the driver, for some reason, and his face was completely blank as if he was just not there at all. I got out of the way, obviously, by getting into the driveway of a care home. Lots of nurses and care workers came rushing out and I burst into tears. 

It was a bizarre morning. One moment I thought that my baby was going to be squished to bits and then I was sitting in a utility room with my astonished and just woken baby on my knee. They gave me a cup of tea, but I couldn’t drink it, because there was nowhere to sit the baby and they stood about saying the sort of things that people do and I had to entertain the baby instead of being in shock. How do we do that? How do mothers suddenly push everything away and make themselves seem perfectly ok for the sake of their children?

I am still waiting to have flashbacks or something. I have to go past the spot every day on the way to school and so far I have stopped on the way home and stared at the spot where my baby and I might have been killed if I hadn’t stopped to buy some face-cloths and a blanket. Or if I hadn’t stopped because of the car about to pull out of the care home driveway. 

I shan’t walk along that particular bit of pavement for a very long time, if ever if I can help it. 

The week before, we just missed witnessing a fatal accident at the exact spot where we cross the main

road on the way to school. A learner on a motorbike. The blood stain is still visible on the road. 

Any way. There was no one I wanted to tell. So I was with this thing all day long until home time…

Posted by: miss cellany | September 16, 2007

cloth nappies

I doubt my endeavours to be greener in the changing bag will turn out to be cheaper ( I am keeping the cost of it all secret from my partner who is blissfully unaware ) but at least I am down to only using a disposable at night now, wrapped up in a muslin and a wrap to mop up the leaks. My baby, now eight months is a HEAVY wetter and nothing except this system keeps her dry at night so far. I am using bamboo fibre nappies. I think they are probably the greenest option in the cloth department and I love the fact that I can have a nappy made from a bamboo plant. Who would have thought it. Also, I don’t have a tumble dryer so they are the best for air drying quickly and less bulky and more absorbant. I recently had a pad folded nappy on the baby all day long and she was fine with the fleece liner ( not so green but very effective at keeping nappy rash at bay) since she wears dresses and leg warmers instead of tights any dampness evaporated in the warm air. Not so practical all the time though and  I can’t bring myself to leave her wet like that for very long, even though her bum is actaully dry. I only use about three or four nappies a day now, because… she does her poo on a potty! I haven’t gone mad and decided to try and train an  8 month baby. I had an emergency one day when we went out and I found I had no more nappies left in my bag. we were at a cafe and she started looking like she needed to poo so I dashed into the loo with her and whipped off her nappy and sat her on the loo. She looked a little surprised but all was well and I was able to put the only slightly damp nappy back on.

SO I thought well why not save myself a lot of hassle with dirty nappies? It seemed to make sense, so I began putting her on the loo or a potty when she needed to go and it worked. 

Now I put her on the pot with a load of potty time toys in front of her and she does the bizz no bother. Much nicer for her to not be smeared in yukky poo as well! I am really astonished at how she has got into just sitting till she’s done and then getting up  – I have to be ready for that! I wonder if it will mean I have fewer problems potty training when she’s much bigger. I’m sure it will be different anyway with having real nappies and that soggy feeling. Pull ups are just a nightmare. My first child was three before she managed to stay dry and even then continued to have accidents every so often at school till she was almost six! Not that she was fazed by it at all.

But now little one is getting so wriggly at changing time it’s almost impossible to get it done without a fight. I give her a toy to play with and mostly she wriggles over and crawls off. So I’m now going to trial a pocket nappy by Minki made in Scotland. It was a toss up between that and a Bum Genius but they are made in America. Also her daddy is Scottish so it had to be a Minki. 

I’m flabbergasted by the huge variety of nappy systems available these days. A woman who insisted on giving me lifts to school in her Chelsea Tractor when I was pregnant told me that real nappies were a waste of time, that they took ages to dry and were no better than disposables. What rot.

The posibilities are endless and I have spent far too many nights perusing the immense choice on offer on the internet when I should have been doing something much more constructive.  

Hopefully I will find a system which will banish the paper nappy, as my seven year old calls them, forever.

I have discovered that velcro nappies, although very adjustable, can be scratchy on my baby’s tummy. So I’m just hoping that the Minki nappy isn’t scratchy. With the bulk of the nappy being behind the velcro it might be ok. There are plenty pocket systems with poppers, I just like the look of the minki and I know that it will keep all of her bum dry and will be super fast to dry out after wshing so I shouldn’t need too many. But then I’ll have pull ups syndrome again. And then I’ll have to get trainer pants. Oh gawd…I haven’t actually dreamt about nappies yet but I’m sure I might. Not that I would record it any where.

Posted by: miss cellany | May 9, 2007


Well I was dreading the trip up to the last minute, but we took a smaller buggy which umbrella folds and which lies flat with the babba sling and things worked out fine. I took a rain cover for a stroller which is like a poncho with a zip to keep the rain off the babba sling but we didn’t have any rain at all in two weeks!The next trip will be longer and more frightful as we have to change at Birmingham new street which is a horrible place and I think you have to manage stairs with the clobber, so not looking forward to that. But at least I have proved to myself that it is possible and it’s only a few hours(!) of your life stuck on a train.

Posted by: miss cellany | February 20, 2007

absence and lack of sleep

I thought I might be lucky and get an easy baby but this one is just like her sister only harder work! At least I knew what I was in for. Getting up and doing the school walk every weekday is awsomely exhausting and I seem to have lost three quarters of my vocabulary due to lack of sleep. Last night was four hours of broken kipping which I ought to be making up for but I needed a bath and other stuff which has been left for too long needed doing as well. Now that we have broadband though, it’s much quicker to post. Obviously I am not working at the moment. I thought I would have enough time to finish my last project just after the Christmas break, but baby came three weeks early, bright and breezy on new year’s day. Very fast and very intense labour. Strange how you get the flashbacks of the pain, but thankfully that has stopped now. It would be good if I could have a few flashbacks of what it was that I was going to be doing just before she was born. 

I know if  try too hard , and start working again now,  I will get frustrated.

So my main preoccupations at the moment are whether or not to take the tank of a buggy on holiday on the train to scotland and if not, how will I manage with just a sling, and what if it rains, can I get a poncho that won’t smother her and will she be happy in a sling, since she is such a wriggly baby. I bought a babasling ( ) (can’t work out how to put the link in properly,) because the other one I have is like a parachute with all its clips and straps and phenomenally difficult to get in and out of. The babasling is a breeze, and excellent

for those moments when you need to chop some vegetables or do the icing on the cake for the teddy’s cake ( indulging my first born to the enth degree). But I don’t know if it is suitable for hiking really. Such are the complications gathering force in my limited capacity brain right now. 

Posted by: miss cellany | June 5, 2006

a touch of fear

Well it doesn’t really matter how much a bullock weighs when you feel the ground shuddering beneath you as they leap over the woefully insignificant ‘fence’ separating the field you are in from the one they used to be in. And you know that there is nowhere to retreat to. You are too far away from the gate at the top of the field and even if you did manage to get through the twanging wire that the beasts are leaping, what would be the damn point anyway, since they are just as likely to come charging back again.
Oh yes, leaping snorting beasts with the whites of their rolling eyes showing, mooing and bellowing and falling over each other just like the wildebeasties on the telly trying to avoid the crocs in the river.
we should have known that something was going to be not quite right when the herd of insane beasts rammed the fence where it happened to be a bit more substantial. It bowed but it didn’t give. Hmm.
Top of field: wire fence with barbed wire on top sturdy posts and scattered hawthorn hedges.
Middle of field: wire fence with barbed wire and spindly posts, hardly any hedge.
Bottom of field: sagging wire fence which reaches dizzy heights of 18 – 20 inches. NO hedge. NO barbed wire. NO holding them back.
What I would like to know is what kind of idiot expects his beasts to stay put in a field with such a flimsy boundary?
Panic? Moi?
Just a little of the blind variety. Fortunately the stupid bullocks went stampeding to the other side of the field and stayed there long enough for us to get over the gate at the bottom of the field.
I think there were between 30 and 40 of them but each time I get a flashback, they divide and multiply, like one tonne germs.
Written like this it doesn’t really convey the perceived seriousness of the moment. My partner played it down, as men are wont to do, and my daughter didn’t fully appreciate the possible danger we were in, being utterly confident that her parents would protect her from the beasts.
I’m not an utter scaredy cat when it comes to farm animals. I’ll walk in a field of dairy cows nae bother, I’ll go through a herd of heifers. I’ll walk in fields where horses graze. BUT rampaging bullocks are a different matter.
I was convinced that I’d miscarry from fright. It appears I am (and it) are made of sterner stuff, and I feel just as nauseous as before if not more.
And if any of you are wondering what we were doing wandering through fields, we were in Scotland, land of the free, where “Private Road” and “Private Property” signs are a sign that some English person has moved in, unaware that their signs are ridiculous and redundant.

Posted by: miss cellany | May 25, 2006

that pukey feeling

Well, it’s been a long time since I posted anything. I’ve been so busy with my work and now I am pregnant as well. I feel a definite pressure of time, deadlines and appointments and blood taking all to come in the next eight months.
So today I made myself officially pregnant. Doctors always get a bit nervous around me when I ‘seem to know all about it’. We were discussing what types of tests are available at my local hospital and my doctor stopped and asked me what my job was. Maybe twenty years ago that would have been a reasonable question; but in 2006 it seems a bit daft, since we have information at our fingertips.
So yes I know that there is a test for Down’s Syndrome done by scanning which measures the fetuses neck and it’s called a Nuchal Translucency Test and is done between about 10 and 14 weeks.
Does this mark me out as some sort of know it all pain in the arse patient, or am I just able to look stuff up on the internet. Hmm, tricky one.
When I had pre-eclampsia (now quite often called ‘pregnancy induced hypertension’, and in my case was quite often just plain old ‘white coat hypertension’) the doctors seemed positively shocked that I knew why they were taking a keen interest in my high blood pressure and swollen feet and legs. All I’d done was read the ‘you are pregnant’ book that my midwife gave me, and retained the information. Presumably not many women bother to inform themselves about their pregnancies.
My best friend is five years older than me and is expecting her second baby very soon. This makes me feel a lot better about my forthcoming tests etc.
When people get pregnant, unfortunately, all they seem to want to talk about is being pregnant. If I turn into a pregnancy bore, sorry, but I can’t help it.
My mind is filled with all the things I have to get done before January, but also aware that it’s not necessarily as straight forward as the first time. we’re not telling our daughter about it until the tests are done – unless she says why are you fat? We’re not the sort of family that hides our bodies. Not that we go around naked but nakedness is not something to be ashamed of in this house. If I’m in the bath and she needs the loo then she doesn’t have to cross her legs and wait.
Some people you don’t even notice them being pregnant, whereas it will be pretty impossible for me to conceal for very long. Especially on the beach.

Something entirely unrelated. Got a delivery of a plant today, or rather, someone knocked on the door and ran away. I saw a young man loping off through the window opened the door and found the big box. So much for delivery instructions.
Aurgh. Delivery. see, I can’t stay off the subject at all.

Posted by: miss cellany | March 15, 2006


fight for the perhaps in every day

Posted by: miss cellany | March 14, 2006


ha! I finally worked out how to upload and make it BIG instead of a tiny little thumbnail. This is one of the photos I took with my phone today. I think I use the kaleidoscope more than my five year old. It’s a great way to meditate until you begin to think of taking photos…

Posted by: miss cellany | March 14, 2006

cold calling

‘HI there!!!! I’m from British Gas, and I’m just calling today to check whether you are still with us’

The cold wind rushes in past my knees and I’m already resentful. I give this man on my doorstep, who has distracted me from my work without apologising a quick beady stare. At least the Jehova’s Witnesses always used to apologise for disturbing me. In fact, I’d rather have a J W on my doorstep than this lying idiot. Does he REALLY think that I’ll believe that British Gas has to send a man to knock on my door and ASK IN PERSON whether I am still getting my gas from them?
This is where being a woman is useful. I can choose my method. I don’t have to rely on the old, WE ARE NOT SWITCHING PROVIDERS, that my partner blasts out at them before shutting the door in their faces. I look at this guy, right in the eye and I say, ‘well, I don’t pay the bills, I don’t know who we get our gas from.’
But he’s not going away. I smile. I can see he’s getting uncomfortable.
‘Sooooo, Miss Cellany was the previous occupant then.’
‘Nope. That’s me.’ I am still smiling.
‘When is your, erm, partner likely to be at home?’
‘Ohhh, it depends. It varies.’ Smiling really throws this guy. I nod at him. He glances at his clip board to detatch his gaze from mine. Ha! He’s not even going to try. I don’t say anything else. He backs away as though I’m part alien.

I know his game. He knows I know his game. BUT he can’t be sure whether I am lying or not.

In truth, I feel a tad bit sorry for him. It’s foul weather and his job is crap. I can imagine the kind of meetings he has had to sit through with flip charts and some cretin telling them all how to get us (unsuspecting dimwits) to agree to something we don’t need and don’t want.
But I feel more annoyed than sorry, because my house is full of icy air and I’ll have to put the heating on.
Why do these herberts always assume that just because I’m at home and not wearing any make up and my jeans are worn, that I’m not working? Why do they always assume I’ll fall for their lies?

Posted by: miss cellany | March 13, 2006


I am not the American miss cellany, the blogspot one.
I do have a blogspot blog under this name (as back up in case wordpress conks out completely) but when I was trying to set it up someone else had evidently got there before me. *sigh* It matters not. *sigh*

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