Keeping abreast of the situation!

Kamaiura : Siesta of mother and child, originally uploaded by klausdgrio (unabled - all photo-gear stolen).

Breastfeeding. This is something I want to blog more about, if only to increase awareness about why it is the most magical, miraculous thing a mother can do for her child. Before Layla, I used to feel pretty neutral about it - but now...

In other cultures, like the Mongolians, breastfeeding is celebrated! Breastfeeding in public is not just a cultural norm, but expected.

Having lunch the other day in a garden centre's cafe with my friend, Lisa, and her year-old little girl, Freya Rose, we both hauled out our boobs so our children could have their milk. Knowing the taboos surrounding this wonderfully natural and beautiful act of mothering and nutrition, we took care to choose the most discreet seating in the cafe, and made sure not the barest glimpse of flesh was flashed! And yet, in our hearts, we feel like organising militant-style pro-breastfeeding ralleys! But we don't. Because............. I've just deleted an extremely passionate paragraph in case, oh dear, it might offend.
The day Layla was born, and in the weeks following, I had decided Layla would only be breastfed until she was six months old. That is, when the teeth arrive. But now, 8 months on, I almost wish it would never end. It gives us the most precious moments of quiet intimacy. A time that no-one else can muscle in on with a bottle of formula in hand. Through the night, she reaches for me in her sleep, and we lie in each others' arms - a twilight of love. One day, too soon, she will be off and running, busy, painting, playing, climbing trees, homework, boys... And these moments will be my perfect mother's treasure. An anchor, I hope, for us both.

Dark, grey, gloomy...

Today makes me think of studying Shakespeare at school. When the weather was believed to be a direct reflection of what was going on politically etc. Like the storm in Macbeth. I've just stepped outside in my pyjama socks to let my neighbours gentle giant of a German Sherpherd out for a quick wee in her cramped, little pebbled yard. Today hasn't been a 'good' day in the conventional sense of the word. i.e. no housework has been done because I'm just too damn tired. And it's that deep kind of tiredness you feel in your soul. The kind of exhaustion that you have to just try and ignore, because if you don't, it'll consume you. Until you feel like you're drowning.
The miraculous thing about being a mother, is that somehow, out of nowhere, you are suddenly blessed with a fresh abundance of energy. (I'm counting on this to happen for me tomorrow!) When I let go of this feeling guilty about being tired, and allow myself to chill out for the day (in pyjamas, with a sink full of dishes and a basket of laundry to be folded and packed away, and ... and... and...), then I am usually guaranteed to wake up feeling like the proverbial million bucks! So today, Layla and I have napped together, played together on the floor, shared a sarmie for lunch, cuddled and laughed and giggled at each other... I have learnt (though it's taken me 31 long years) that these darker days are there for a reason: to stop you in your tracks so you're forced to take stock of what really matters to you. Otherwise, with a constant supply of perfect energy, I would whizz through life and take everything (and everyone) for granted. I wouldn't pray. I would never be still.
Supper tonight? A quiche bought from a 'boutique-deli' : feta, spinach, sundried tomatoes and pine-nuts. I'll bang it in the oven and chop up a few tomatoes with some crisp slices of cucumber, and voila! Maybe I'll get really lucky and Craig will stop to pick up a bottle of vino on the way home from work. It's usually a bottle of Cape Red for 3.39 GBP from the Co-op in Brixworth. (I'm really struggling to concentrate... I find that when Layla is asleep, my ability to focus on writing, painting etc is quite good. But when she's awake - my brain turns into a primitive survivalist machine and all that matters is my child: is she cold? is she hungry? is she thirsty? is she happy? Eish...)
*Sorry, Mel - another short entry. Blame it on motherhood.