One thing that was bothering me…

Well there are several things actually. And this week I’m backed up by other bloggers or commenters on some of these which is always encouraging as it means I’m not alone.

First up, Charlie Brooker’s column for The Guardian this week covers something I noticed last week. Specifically, this part:

I don’t understand why everyone doesn’t gain an additional nine layers of rage the nanosecond they become a parent. There’s the sleep deprivation and the stress, of course, but that’s largely offset by the underlying sense of delight that babies radioactively plant in their parents’ heads in a cunning bid to stop them murdering them. It’s the rest of the world that’s the problem. When you’re suddenly tasked with steering a defenceless, vulnerable creature through life, the state of the planet instantly feels like less of a wearying joke and more of an outrageous affront to human decency. The world has slightly sharper edges than before.

He’s right, of course. Last week on the tram I had to get off 3 stops early just to avoid the other passengers. Usually I can easily tolerate the lunatics who use our public transport and often find them funny but when you’re in sole charge of a tiny person these loons become more menacing in your mind and you feel the need to flee. (Especially the one who leaned over the pram to offer me advice. Take a step back please, lady…) This was an easy solution, of course, who knows what I’ll be like next time I’m shouting at the government over whatever imbecilic policy they’re pushing through – as if I wasn’t angry enough at them before she was born. Clearly the only answer is to prepare her for the horrors of the world, possibly invoking the spirit of Sarah Connor, which seems most appropriate for these times…

Away from raging at the world and down to raging at specific and small, some would say trivial, matters. Childbirth, as you may know, does lead to bleeding for a few weeks after the event and I went into hospital with two packets of maternity towels as instructed by various well meaning types. First gripe – I could only find these in a 24-hour Tesco and not in my local Boots or Mothercare. Why?

The bleeding is more manageable now and so I’ve been using normal sanitary towels. Which leads to the next gripe. I haven’t used towels for over 20 years so I’m out of touch in towel technology but scented sanitary protection? Really? Eeuuuwww!!!! And especially eeuuwww if you’ve got stitches to look after and keep clean and infection-free. Plus they stink (the towels, not my stitches). If you’re like me and think air fresheners are the devil’s work then this is even worse. Luckily, here’s a blogger to back me up. 

Mind you, I don’t fancy washable sanitary towels, (I’m a Mooncup gal) though I am about to embark on a trial run of washable reuseable nappies. E is still a bit too small for them (a friend has lent them to us to see how we get on) so it’s disposables for now. I’m a bit nervous about the resuseables as her poo is staining the towels on the changing mat a nice yellow colour. Think pink, forget stains is not doing it on the washing front.

While we’re discussing products, however, we have this week discovered the joys of Infacol. Oh God, it’s true – parenting is all about poo and wind isn’t it? How distressing to be blogging about this sort of thing. Luckily my ambitions to win prizes for writing went out the window years ago… But nevertheless, poo, wind and protecting the baby from loons – that’s been my week. What awaits us this week?


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