"Blundell-gate". My views on THAT editorial.

There has been much furore this week over the Guardian article Breastfeeding is creepy, says parenting magazine in it's discussion of Kathryn Blundell's editorial in (of all places) Mother and Baby Magazine entitled I Formula Fed - So What? Not least because in an age where health professionals and hospitals are striving to win "Breastfeeding Friendly" accreditation this personal rant comes in a respected magazine aimed at the mass mothering market, and in Breastfeeding Awareness Week for maximum impact.

As discussed eloquently here my gripe is that once again the myths surrounding breastfeeding are clouding the real issue here and precipitating the age old breast v bottle debate. Breastfeeding does NOT make your breasts sag, pregnancy does and even if it did surely that is the reason women have them in the first place? Whilst we persist to deliberate over the either/or decision we lose sight of the salient fact, that breastfeeding is what nature intended, what is without any doubt is best for all babies unless there are other issues present which alter this.

Now before everyone jumps down my throat, I'm not a "breastfeeding nazi", and I recognise the role formula feeding has in modern society. I only breastfed my eldest for six weeks due to poor advice and his severe reflux and the prospect of returning to full-time work after a mere twelve weeks post delivery. (The latter was a statutory requirement then.) It was the right decision for us then, I challenge anyone to say otherwise. I did have several friends in the NCT then who would indeed qualify for the above status. I actually wrote an article "When Breast Isn't Best" for their magazine - which to their credit they published.

But (and this is the key point in my eyes) I assumed breastfeeding was the norm, what I intended to do and gave it my best shot. With better advice and in different circumstances I might have succeeded too. Never did I assume I would bottle feed my baby and no threats of sagging breasts of lack of alcohol would have persuaded me otherwise.

Over the years I have known many mothers who needed to bottle feed - due to maternal medication, ill health both physical and mental, ridiculous working hours, and infant health issues like the dreaded Reflux which all my children have suffered with. Formula feeding when appropriate should then be embraced as a modern miracle, a way of safely feeding a precious baby who centuries ago in some of these circumstances would have perished.

But as a first choice with no major influencing factors?

The myths are bad enough - when our twins were tiny and failing to thrive the number of doctors who genuinely believed that formula feeding was the way to go concerned me, not least because they were ignorant of the possible benefits and were therefore unable to make a balanced decision. (They were more concerned with measuring formula and weighing babies like those who recommended a family friend express then bottle feed her premature baby to ensure she received enough milk. I mean, seriously, can you not tell when a baby is or is not thriving? The sad fact with our twins and many others with reflux is that it is all too often exacerbated or even caused by food allergies and intolerances, and a diet of only breastmilk until six months of age as recommended by the World Health Organisation is one of the very best ways to try and reduce the chances of a baby developing such issues. My youngest son was fed a top-up of formula in hospital and that single exposure precipitated a severe dairy allergy which might have been avoided. Yet despite being armed with as much factual information as possible I was still viewed as extremist and eccentric by the health professionals caring for my babies!

What I am trying to get across here is that viewing what nature intended, what is best in every way for a baby in normal circumstances and is supported by the international health community as eccentric really should shock! We as a nation would never accept removing all newborn puppies from their mother and choosing to bottle feed them cat milk as an equal option to their mother's milk and neither should we have this view for humans!

Until we in the UK start embracing breastfeeding as the norm rather than one of two equal choices, with totally acceptable alternatives when the need really does arise which are respected and supported then we are still going to have some of the lowest breastfeeding rates in the world. The language of breastfeeding of breastfeeding needs to change.

Kathryn Blundell's rant in Mother and Baby magazine endorses myth and misunderstanding, playing into the hands of the "have it all" brigade. It marginalises the campaign to promote breastfeeding as a ram-it-down-your-throat propaganda attempt (no pun intended!) rather than a drive to inform and promote understanding.

The most Amazing Feeling.

Today my son became an asset. Not a problem to be fixed, overcome or ignored but a positive and beneficial contributor. How good does that feel? Even better to him than it does to me, and that's saying something!

H's new school would so far appear to be one of the very best things to happen to him in his life so far. (I only hope this continues!) It started with the Holiday Club and Wraparound Care (Breakfast Club) telling me additional support really wasn't required and Harry was welcome to attend as many sessions as we (or he) wanted. Not only were they completely "unfazed" by meltdowns and tantrums, insecurities and possible running away attempts, they actually think Harry is good fun, has a wicked sense of humour and barely noteworthy in the challenge stakes!

Now we *know* this is not always the case, given a different environment, different staff with less experience etc it would likely be a very different scenario. As a family with two adults we struggle on outings at the best of times and until recently rarely attempted them. Snide remarks from ignorant members of the public do eventually grind you down! But how completely liberating to be told your child is "one of many" and "not a problem", I just cannot describe how good that makes me feel.

Today H had the first of four short visits to his new school. They met him at the Office, welcomed him, had a visual welcome book ready and an allocated SEN supporter for him. He clung to Richard, overwhelmed despite a previous visit until he spotted a friend from their Holiday Club we had sent him to in Half Term for this very reason. And the school KNEW this and put him in the SAME CLASS as this friend to help him settle in! After one short hour, Richard collected him, a happy grinning child who LOVES the new school and cannot wait for September. Even better, the school are so impressed with HIM and he's going in with a "gifted" label rather than a "problem" one.

I'm grinning all over my face as I type. His current school have been really supportive, this is not written in condemnation because they have faced a steep learning curve over the past 4 years - and so have we. That mountainous curve has been a hard climb but we must be somewhere near the summit if only in terms of understanding his current needs having picked and fought for his new school.

My son. Wanted, welcomed and viewed for his positive attributes whilst supported in his additional needs. Love it.

The "Science" of Childcare - the scourge of modern society.

As the coalition attempts to get to grips with tackling this country's enormous deficit, inevitably Welfare and Education are among the front runners for intense scrutiny.

I doubt many of us would question a general spending overhaul in all government departments, the growth of management level employees over the past 10 or more years has been exponential and excessive. But what I as a parent, former teacher and Registered Childminder would most like to see is an admission that the patchwork that is the Children's Plan has stupendously failed to improve opportunities for children from less well-off families (Jill Kirby Telegraph 11th June), and that "learning outcomes" for children are no better with the blinkered focus on quantifying and measuring learning and achievement using the six learning areas and 69 goals every child should achieve by the age of five.

For me, it has always been obvious that children learn best when they are valued, loved, happy, interested and encouraged. Giving them opportunities and supporting their curiosity is of paramount importance, not photographing and recording their every action as evidence of progress and attainment. I’ve seen teachers carrying around digital cameras and post-it notes constantly so as not to miss anything they need to record rather than focussing on their vocational task in hand and found it quite distasteful. It is degrading for teacher’s to justify their professional recordings in this way, akin to a GP having to photograph each patient and add a note of conversations and discussions to support each prescription. Or the surgeon having to stop mid- operation to photograph each step and justify his action and the patient's progress! Totally absurd but a product of the gradual attrition of the professional qualifications of all who teach and care for children. Is it any wonder there is a national shortage of suitably qualified teachers and the job has become so much more about recording and pen pushing than actual teaching that those with the best teaching qualities are no longer attracted to the profession? And childminders are apparently quitting at the rate of 12 per day, small wonder perhaps when a trip to the park becomes another day of box- ticking and self-justification?

What is it with our obsession with making all that should be intuitive and spontaneous into a science? 

A friend with a premature baby was recently told she should keep expressing all her daughter's feeds so she could record exactly how much milk the child drank. What on earth FOR? If the child is thriving and producing plenty of wet nappies then intake is irrelevant and expressing potentially damaging since it fails to stimulate milk supply like a baby feeding. A different issue but another good example with our obsession with quantifying, measuring and recording!

What we are losing at an alarming rate in this country is the ability to trust our human instinct and intuition, as mothers, carers and professionals. 

The money wasted on this is shocking. There is no evidence that Every Child Matters has done more than generate a phenomenal amount of training, paperwork and stress for professionals whilst they are distracted from interacting , caring and nurturing those in their care. Records matter, but professionals should be able to write them without focussing on collecting evidence every second of the day.

In our drive for efficiency and frugality in the cuts ahead let's take this golden opportunity to reassess and reevaluate what really matters to our children. This requires far less financial input and reinstates the professionalism of those working with children. It would recognise the all-important ingredients for happy, thriving individuals in all arenas and form the building blocks of happy successful adults.

As human beings we need to be loved, nurtured and respected. Children should have opportunities to succeed and progress but no amount of tick boxes and performance indicators can guarantee this. Unless there is good reason for greater scrutiny on an individual basis attempting to mechanise a child's development is costly and superficial at best, at worst it undermines professionals and prevents them from doing what they do best- caring for our children.

RIP Zippy Mouse

It's been an odd week. After calm acceptance (below) came the storm. First the rental was offered to someone else, having been supposedly taken off the market, then problem after problem arose with the new build. It would seem I am all out of adrenalin because even I was surprised how serenely I digested each piece of news and with visions of our family sleeping in cardboard boxes somewhere on the road to Ipswich I dedicated the week to serious house hunting. It paid off, and many miles, viewings and tired stroppy children later we had two beautiful (and very different) homes to choose from.

So do I play Lady of the Manor in a superb Georgian house or Footballer's Wife in an equally appealing town house? In the end we plumped for the latter, if only because it is far closer to the Station and it would seem that two house moves are no longer on the cards - all being well in the summer we will make one move to our new home and be settled in time for the new term.

This week had more surprises up its' sleeve than Paul Daniels however and midweek I realised with horror that my smallest boy was infested with head-lice. Ugh. Something every parent dreads but thankfully he was easy to clear. I made sure I took a large paper bag to school today when the head-lice notification letters were sent home (I now keep a stock of useful identity shields, highly recommended for days like today) and fondly remembered bringing similar slips home to my parents when at school. We used to sit on the school bus home and draw little diagrams of lice all over the letter too! Lovely...

The on Friday, after a blisteringly hot first Sport's Day at Josh's school we came home to discover his beloved hamster, Zippy, had died in his sleep. He was pretty old for a hamster and had enjoyed a full life but we are extremely sad to see him go. We held a funeral and wished him plenty of banana chips in his little niche in heaven, thinking of the prehistoric squirrel in Ice Age and his acorn! Zippy was our first hamster and a real character, he will be much missed.

So, on with a new week, forget the battered Volvo and Hunter Wellies, this summer I need blonde highlights, hair straighteners and a visit to the nail parlour. Wind Chimes de rigeur and a good dose of Mediterranean Sun would be nice. I think the Multipla might have to go though..... it never was going to fit either option!

Experiments in Minimalism

So here I am, sitting in my sunny spot outside my kitchen. Which, in point of fact, will no longer be "mine" in 7 weeks of so, and if we're being picky the chair might be my favourite spot to sit when the sun is out, but I rarely sit down at all! 

Still, when the sun is shining, and I find a rare quiet moment it is most definitely my most favourite seat. Shutting my eyes, listening to a bumble bee drone past I could be a child again, in a different garden at a very different time. I'm quite an aesthetic person, finding sounds, smells and sights incredibly evocative and  sustaining. Just thirty seconds of imagining a time of incredible simplicity and serenity is sufficient to revitalise me again. 

We are busy packing all the items we will not need until we finally move into our new build early next year and I have to remind myself in my haste that material items carry all-too-important sensory meaning too. I can do simplicity, live very well without the trappings of materialistic accumulation but I would not stay happy for long without the little touchstones of my life. This seat has seen me watch my children grow and play, nurse babies and cuddle baby rabbits. Plan menus, muddle through family logistics and campaign strategies (for anyone who tells you running a large family is not akin to a major military campaign is being economical with the truth) and escape the noise within.

Not bad going considering how infrequently it is used - but then that is exactly the point I am making. Filtering everything out except our wind chime tinkling in the breeze for the briefest of spells is quite sufficient to calm the soul. Which is why I will be packing the most obvious of creature comforts during sixth months of minimalist experimentation, but the chair, the wind chime and hopefully some sun this summer will be coming with me.

The Country Show

Well today, at last, the sun seemed to break through what has been a truly wintery week.  What a difference a little bit of sunshine makes. Today was the Hadleigh Show, an event I look forward to every year. In a moment of ambitious optimism we decided to all go, hoping for few tantrums and meltdowns and  as little rain as possible!

It started well, until H spied the Australian leather hats and decided that he couldn't live without one - and any suggestion otherwise met with screaming and sobbing. We doggedly persevered with promises of hats for good behaviour and enjoyed the sunshine, ponies (my daughter informed me"girls don't ride horses Mummy")  and laughed at the Dog Agility Team whilst keeping an eye open for the most promising coffee stand for essential caffeine top-ups to steady the nerves. 

Queueing for lunch required more paper bags than we could muster, so lacking invisibility or at least limited visibility we gritted our teeth and stoically reminded H of the promised hat if he managed to wait with at least attempted patience. Someone please remind me next time to obtain a menu from the burger van in advance to allow him to make his choice from a clearly set out list of choices though, since interpreting a chalkboard list whilst waiting in line was never going to work.

The twins enjoyed sitting in the fire engine, always a highlight of the day for them. This year though A had more in mind than pretending to drive and managed to start the computer up! A few clicks on the mouse and he'd reconfigured the nav-com, and the engine was destined for Pontefract. Swift intervention from Richard prevented trouble but A was really very disappointed! ( I think he had designs on following in Fireman Sam's footsteps, he's always had a penchant for fire engines. ) K's wish for the day was to see some baby piglets though and in this we failed to deliver but she did concede the cows were "quite nice". Fortunately Richard stopped short of pointing out the nearest we got to baby pigs were the bacon rolls at the burger van since we had only just managed to stop H getting progressively more frustrated as he struggled with the concept of eating meat whilst admiring the cute animals on display! The highlight of my day was getting caught in the Joules tent when the Heaven's opened, and I was forced to spend fifteen minutes browsing.... and spending more than I ought to. Well, it was obviously Fate intervening and it would have been rude not to!

Eventually, we congratulated ourselves on achieving a family outing relatively unscathed and bought the coveted hat. I must admit it really suits him - and he is now wearing it asleep in bed!!

Protection or Prejudice?

There is much written at the moment in Blogland about the Children, Schools and Families Bill, Child Protection and parenting choices. What most of you reading this or any other Blog today might be unaware of is the potential impact across all society that this Bill might have had if passed (and still might have if Labour are re-elected and have a second attempt) which extends beyond how you choose to educate your children. It challenges something totally fundamental in our society. Not only does it challenge the right parents currently have to choose how their child is educated but introduces an unpalatable advance into the erosion of individual choice and independence to be and live as we choose.

The CSF Bill which has largely been dropped due to pressure from Home Educators who not only objected to State interference in their right to educate their children as they see fit but also pointed out the obvious - that a HE child is no more or less "at risk" than any other school educated child, all of whom have long periods of time at home. The unfortunate Khyra Ishak was indeed deregistered from mainstream schooling but was not, by any stretch of the imagination Home Educated. But suspicion is the child of ignorance and choosing a path for your family which is in any way different from the vast majority should not leave you open to prejudice. Yet Ed Balls has stated he fully intends to "provide proper protection to home educated children" if Labour are re-elected.

There is a veritable industry that exists to "safeguard children" now which must therefore justify its existence on a daily basis. So deep is the desire to prove themselves at every level this "protection" system is trapped looking for cases and fitting individuals into their preconceived moulds. There is no room for uniqueness, for unorthodoxy, God forbid you do not choose to or are unable to tend towards the mean. This offers up a perfect opportunity to convert misunderstanding into accusation.  

This is a constant battle fought by parents of disabled children, particularly those with invisible disabilities. So vast and complicated is the framework in which support is or is not available that if there is not an immediately visible, convenient niche in which to slot your family (either inside or outside that framework) then you invite suspicion and intervention. Instead of training health professionals, social workers and other front line workers to respond to individuals on a case-by-case basis we are trapped in a system where government frameworks and policies constrain free, rational thinking and financial accountability has been stretched to require self justification at every level. In our case we have a very able, but clearly autistic child who does not fit the mould of expected outcomes for education and behaviour management. Consternation and lack of alternatives precipitated enquiry and accusation because there wasn't a tick box for our family.

The modern world needs to learn  to celebrate individuality, in a current time frame rather than persecuting those with something unique to offer society. We are taught to recognise and remember those who were "different" in history and we are learning, slowly, to recognise apparent "deviations" from the norm when faced with large groups. Religious toleration, racial and social acceptance are goals many aspire to if not reach but still, in the twenty first century it is still socially and politically acceptable to seek and root out, to stigmatise, persecute and victimise that which is unfamiliar and alien. It seems we have learned little and increasingly offer ourselves up to be judged by supporting continued and increasing State intervention in our lives. Without individuals and individual ways of living we might just as well enter a Brave New World and admit defeat of the very essence of being human.