I apologise for not posting yesterday, but in all honesty I was out there getting shit done so that I would actually HAVE summat to blog about!
Little O and I spent yesterday and today getting up to and in to loads of stuff. First we went to a craniofacial appointment at CHOW on Monday morning, which is one of my least favourite clinics to visit because they have such appalling time-management. Once I was a there for nearly two hours, and saw the doc for about five or ten minutes of that. Yesterday was a little better though, and we were there for only about an hour or so, seeing the doc for about ten minutes. Doesn't mean I don't still hate them though.
After that went to see my friend up in Milwaukee for lunch, and she's lost loads of weight from having the stomach flu so she looked a bit gaunt. Still beautiful though. Then we went to buy Little O a new swimsuit and supplies for swimming in the afternoon. I LOVE buying clothes for my son, but shopping in Babies R Us is VERY dangerous. I seriously had to set myself a budget and only walk out of there with a new swimsuit and those fancy diapers that don't explode when your kid gets in the pool. I got so close, too! I walked out with diapers, swimsuit, and a new sheet for Little O's bed that cost $4.99. That's actually pretty amazing. His new shorts are rainbow-coloured and I bought a UV-protective t-shirt in orange to match. It says Beach Bum on it. It's awesome. :)
After that we went swimming! It was kinda rubbish, actually, because the pool was advertising that time as designated for special needs users only, but it was no different to any other time of day. It's a water park too, which meant there were loads of slides and cool shit for older children, but nothing that suitable for babies. Little O is trying to figure out to crawl, and when we were in the zero depth section he kept trying to put his face in the water and crawl into the deeper sections. I was terrified he'd inhale water and start drowning! I think if I go again I'll take my husband.
Today we've being doing chores, seeing therapists, and running errands. I even got something very special sent to Butterfly Charlie in the mail! (Shh... don't tell her...). My kitchen is finally tidy again, after a weekend of not doing any dishes AT ALL - I am disgusted at myself, but mature enough to blame my husband - and I am trying to get caught up on laundry. But, more importantly, I have been playing with my son. He is pulling himself to stand all the time now, and figuring out this crawling and walking malarky, and he's just so much FUN at the moment! It's been like having a 12-month-old in the house, when they learn all this new cool stuff suddenly, and I'm just enjoying it so much.
I'm also enjoying "An Idiot Abroad", which is currently airing over here. Sooo funny!
Happy 100th International Women's Day, everyone! May the next 100 years be even better than the last.
Tina.
Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Radical Parenting
Watched a very, very cool documentary on Discovery Health last night called Radical Parenting. Check out The Feminist Breeder's blog (see sticker on the right) for more info.
Can't write much more right now as Owen has the stinkiest nappy you've every smelt, but I'll try and update more about why this show was so cool later.
Tina.
Can't write much more right now as Owen has the stinkiest nappy you've every smelt, but I'll try and update more about why this show was so cool later.
Tina.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
The Truth About Online Anorexia
So I sat down by myself tonight as Mike had his work Christmas do, and I stumbled across this documentary on BBC America. (It was an ITV programme originally but BBC America likes to mess with my mind like that.) Called The Truth About Online Anorexia, it was presented by Fearne Cotton and followed her investigation into the world of online Pro-Ana websites. I daren't link to any here for fear of prompting someone else to actually visit one, but rest assured they are a grim sight.
I'm sure countless other feminist bloggers have already written about this documentary as it was aired in the UK back in April, but I just feel I need to put something down about it too. Imagine the scenario: here I am, sitting on the couch having just battled for the last two hours to get my son to initially take his food, and then to assist him in keeping it down. I'm scoffing a rather scrummy frozen cheese pizza (I like to add sweetcorn, personally, although I do get rather strange looks when I do it in public) and I'm sipping on a caffeine-free Diet Coke (I like the taste, and I do acknowledge that this makes me odd). Then I turn on this show about how eating is BAD BAD BAD and being thin is GOOD GOOD GOOD.
To say I was upset is an understatement. After half an hour I looked at Owen, and I just burst in to tears. I looked at his chubby little cheeks and his lovely fat arms, and I thought about how so much of his life is completely and utterly controlled by food. He is at his happiest, like nearly all children with GERD, when he is not eating. When he is eating, he's miserable. He feels gassy, over-full, uncomfortable, nauseous, like he has heartburn, and I imagine it stings like hell when the contents of his stomach are violently projectiled out of his mouth and nose.
But we battle it, he and I. I work like hell for three out of every four hours to make sure his food stays put. It is a tribute to my own perseverance, grim determination and sheer bloody hard work that he is exceeding every single doctor's expectations and has grown as much as he has. He has gone from losing weight as a newborn and dropping off the growth charts, to an astonishing 50-75% percentile placement. And that's if you don't even account for his prematurity and knock five weeks of his age. It's the hardest, most draining job I've ever had and I consider it a successful feed if he keeps down at least three quarters of his food.
So for me to watch this documentary and to hear about women denying themselves food to try and reach some unattainable perfection was so, so sad. I felt many things. I felt, initially, sorry for these women. Then I got angry and I felt that I'd never heard of anything so fucking selfish in all my life. You don't eat DELIBERATELY? You starve yourself? You are so ungrateful that there are people working hard to put food on your plate that you consider it to be disgusting to put it in your mouth? I've never heard of anything so repulsive. Don't you know that there are children out there who don't HAVE food to eat? That there are children out there who have all the food they could want, but who can't or daren't eat it because of the reaction their little bodies have to it? Don't you know that when your child can't or doesn't want to eat, it is one of the most frustrating, upsetting, guilt-ridden emotional rollercoasters a parent can go through, and they go through it every moment of every... single... day...?
This train of thought continued until the show was over, I'm sorry to say. The idea that you would work so hard as a parent to feed and nourish your child, only for them to deliberately damage their body and make themselves ill - even to die from it - just made me sick to my stomach. I even ate my pizza more quickly because of it. Then, after a while, I just felt sorry for them all again. And I thought about my own issues with food and eating, and how nothing is ever as simple as it seems.
I've put on A LOT of weight since my pregnancy. In part it's due to a lack of exercise (I'm stuck on the couch feeding Owen so much that it's really hard to get out), partly with what I eat (see the pizza example, above), and partly the depression. So in way, I'm damaging my own body by not giving it the healthy, nutritious stuff it really needs - is this worse? I might be eating, but I am also sticking two fingers up at the work my parents did when I was a child to keep me healthy and growing. I came to the conclusion that the only way to be a positive role-model to Owen as he grows up is to have a healthier relationship with food. I need to stop using it as a crutch when I'm angry or sad, or when I feel as though I deserve a "reward". I need to use that hour before the next feed to walk around the house, or to stick the Wii on and jump up and down. Hell, I need to stop going to Target and buying candy just to get out of the house.
So, starting tomorrow, one week before Christmas, I'm going to eat healthily. We already have many, many healthy items in the fridge and I think it's time to eat them. I cannot let my depression or any other excuse rule my life. If I want to change, the only person who can make it happen is myself.
Tina.
I'm sure countless other feminist bloggers have already written about this documentary as it was aired in the UK back in April, but I just feel I need to put something down about it too. Imagine the scenario: here I am, sitting on the couch having just battled for the last two hours to get my son to initially take his food, and then to assist him in keeping it down. I'm scoffing a rather scrummy frozen cheese pizza (I like to add sweetcorn, personally, although I do get rather strange looks when I do it in public) and I'm sipping on a caffeine-free Diet Coke (I like the taste, and I do acknowledge that this makes me odd). Then I turn on this show about how eating is BAD BAD BAD and being thin is GOOD GOOD GOOD.
To say I was upset is an understatement. After half an hour I looked at Owen, and I just burst in to tears. I looked at his chubby little cheeks and his lovely fat arms, and I thought about how so much of his life is completely and utterly controlled by food. He is at his happiest, like nearly all children with GERD, when he is not eating. When he is eating, he's miserable. He feels gassy, over-full, uncomfortable, nauseous, like he has heartburn, and I imagine it stings like hell when the contents of his stomach are violently projectiled out of his mouth and nose.
But we battle it, he and I. I work like hell for three out of every four hours to make sure his food stays put. It is a tribute to my own perseverance, grim determination and sheer bloody hard work that he is exceeding every single doctor's expectations and has grown as much as he has. He has gone from losing weight as a newborn and dropping off the growth charts, to an astonishing 50-75% percentile placement. And that's if you don't even account for his prematurity and knock five weeks of his age. It's the hardest, most draining job I've ever had and I consider it a successful feed if he keeps down at least three quarters of his food.
So for me to watch this documentary and to hear about women denying themselves food to try and reach some unattainable perfection was so, so sad. I felt many things. I felt, initially, sorry for these women. Then I got angry and I felt that I'd never heard of anything so fucking selfish in all my life. You don't eat DELIBERATELY? You starve yourself? You are so ungrateful that there are people working hard to put food on your plate that you consider it to be disgusting to put it in your mouth? I've never heard of anything so repulsive. Don't you know that there are children out there who don't HAVE food to eat? That there are children out there who have all the food they could want, but who can't or daren't eat it because of the reaction their little bodies have to it? Don't you know that when your child can't or doesn't want to eat, it is one of the most frustrating, upsetting, guilt-ridden emotional rollercoasters a parent can go through, and they go through it every moment of every... single... day...?
This train of thought continued until the show was over, I'm sorry to say. The idea that you would work so hard as a parent to feed and nourish your child, only for them to deliberately damage their body and make themselves ill - even to die from it - just made me sick to my stomach. I even ate my pizza more quickly because of it. Then, after a while, I just felt sorry for them all again. And I thought about my own issues with food and eating, and how nothing is ever as simple as it seems.
I've put on A LOT of weight since my pregnancy. In part it's due to a lack of exercise (I'm stuck on the couch feeding Owen so much that it's really hard to get out), partly with what I eat (see the pizza example, above), and partly the depression. So in way, I'm damaging my own body by not giving it the healthy, nutritious stuff it really needs - is this worse? I might be eating, but I am also sticking two fingers up at the work my parents did when I was a child to keep me healthy and growing. I came to the conclusion that the only way to be a positive role-model to Owen as he grows up is to have a healthier relationship with food. I need to stop using it as a crutch when I'm angry or sad, or when I feel as though I deserve a "reward". I need to use that hour before the next feed to walk around the house, or to stick the Wii on and jump up and down. Hell, I need to stop going to Target and buying candy just to get out of the house.
So, starting tomorrow, one week before Christmas, I'm going to eat healthily. We already have many, many healthy items in the fridge and I think it's time to eat them. I cannot let my depression or any other excuse rule my life. If I want to change, the only person who can make it happen is myself.
Tina.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)