Honouring Moontime

OK, I confess. When I wrote the title of this post, it made me cringe. Our society likes to keep periods pretty quiet. Sanitary products are advertised by letting us know that nobody else will ever know you're 'on'. Fear not! Normal life can be resumed and you can go jogging in white shorts. Any celebration of your 'moontime,' on the other hand, is frankly rather weird. Well, with apologies to anyone's delicate sensibilities, I'm going to tell the story of my relationship with periods .

My feelings about menstruation have been pretty mixed over the years. My first one arrived on Halloween when I was staying over at a school friend's house, aged 11. Thanks to my mum and the school nurse, I was pretty clear on the theory, but the reality was never the less quite disconcerting. In the following years I would dread my time of the month coming. I suffered with awful cramps that would wake me sweating and crying in the night. I had PMT that made me hard to live with, and my acne covered face really knocked my confidence. I always struggled to use tampons, and towels made me feel hot and unclean. I felt far from womanly.

A significant change in attitude came during my university years when I discovered the Mooncup. For the uninitiated, it is a silicone cup inserted into the vagina which collects the menstrual blood. For someone who couldn't even use a tampon, this seemingly giant cup looked pretty intimidating, but after a few tries I was amazed to find I couldn't feel a thing. Emptying the cup removed some of the mystery of my period. It was no longer something foul and hidden. I felt clean and for some reason I still don't understand, my cramps eased considerably.

Then came pregnancy followed by ecological breastfeeding and my Mooncup was packed away. When my period arrived yesterday, 30 months after my last one, my heart sank. It appears my luteal phase (the time between ovulation and menstruation) is only 5 days. Far too short to sustain a pregnancy just yet. I've decided to put away my negative attitudes, and celebrate this time of the month. It is a time when my body is giving me clear instructions to take it easy. It's a few days where I can focus on myself and gaining the energy to begin again with renewed enthusiasm. I've taken the time to learn and try a few gentle yoga positions to relieve cramps. I've taken out sewing projects that have been put to one side and I'm making an effort to eat wholesome foods. My lovely husband is shouldering the responsibilities I'm stepping back from, and as a result, he and Alice are getting some closer time together. By respecting this time, I'm able to see my moontime as a blessing, not a curse.

Controlling anger

Lately, my gentle parenting aspirations have taken a bit of a battering. Alice has traded in her meltdowns for less spectacular, but more prolonged whining. Unfortunately for us both, this presses all my buttons, and I find myself frequently snapping and shouting. What follows then, is by no means a perfect solution. I'm quite clearly no expert when it comes to anger management, but I find some of the ideas below are helping me, and making my angry outbursts less common.

The key to preventing toddler meltdowns is making sure your child is well fed and rested. Difficult as it sometimes is, make sure you do the same for yourself. It's worth the investment. Think about when you're at your most volatile. For me, this is the afternoon when Alice is often whiny, and there's still a few hours before my husband gets in. I've started sharing a cup of chamomile tea with Alice, and we talk about the day. Whether it's the chamomile taking effect, or just the act of spending a relaxing few minutes together, we're both soothed by this little routine. Try to find a shared activity that you both enjoy. I also find it really crucial to spend time with other adults, ideally every day. Being in the house with your child all day can make both of you irritable with each other. I find getting together with other mums acts as an invaluable pressure relief valve.

If your well laid plans have failed and you feel the anger rising, try some techniques to control yourself. These are almost clichés, but sometimes the old ones are the best!

If possible, make sure your child is in a safe place, then walk away for a little while to collect yourself. Make it clear to them that you are going to calm down for a moment, and will be back soon.
Close your eyes and take a few deep, slow breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth.
Make yourself aware of areas of tension, especially in your neck, shoulders, jaw, brow and hands. Make a conscious effort to relax them.
Remind yourself of how wonderful your child is. Think of the moments when you felt you could hardly breathe because you loved them so fiercely. Remember how they look when they sleep.

Once you return, you try to explain that you got angry, and how you're both going to move on. I find it really important that I reconnect with Alice, and the easiest way for me is through physical contact. Sharing a hug, or stroking the nape of her neck. Gentle, maternal actions awaken my motherly instincts and are often enough to shake off any remaining ill feeling.

If all this hasn't worked, and you've blown your top, apologise. Not for being angry, that's a valid emotion we all experience, but for how you expressed it. Maybe tell your child what you should have done instead. Don't labour the point though. Children are generally more forgiving than adults, and a clear, simple apology is all that's needed. No self-flagellation necessary. Try to forgive yourself too. I first heard the idea that people who feel bad behave badly in relation to children, but I think it's the same for us all. When I feel like a crappy mum, I generally act like one. No, it's not OK to shout and scream at your child, but we all slip up now and again. Remind yourself that you're the best parent this child can have, and move on from your mistakes.

As with most things in parenting, we're never going to get it right all the time, but hopefully we can aim to improve as we go along.

Living in the Moment

While walking back to our holiday cottage in Cornwall last week, I was chatting to Alice about the horses in the field. She was clearly very excited to see them, and I casually asked "Do you like horses?" She didn't reply. It's not the first time. She's a chatty little girl, but she has never replied to a question about her preferences. I started thinking about the way toddlers view the word, and realised that they live in an eternal present. They simply experience what goes on around them without weighing it up against previous encounters. To say we like or don't like something requires that you compare it with other times we've experienced it. It's a developmental stage that is still ahead of Alice.

I tried to imagine what life would be like if you live completely in the moment. You would become mindful of what was around you. I've often been amazed at the tiny things Alice spots or faint sounds she hears that are just background noise for me. I think this is because toddlers minds aren't clouded by the countless thoughts that whirr around an adult's head. I don't think it is sustainable, or even desirable for an adult to constantly live in the moment in the same way, but taking time to experience the world like a child for short periods would be very liberating.

Taking my daughter as my teacher, I've been trying to really sense what goes on around me. To throw myself into our games without planning how they'll end up, thinking about when to put dinner on, or worrying about what other people might be thinking. I aim to enjoy time with my daughter without comparing her to her past self, or thinking about what will happen as she grows up. I hope it demonstrates to her that I value her play. Even the short periods I manage to spend in this way act like little calm oases, reinvigorating me to take on the rest of the day.

Decisions

I've been thinking lately about the huge responsibility a parent has to make decisions for their children. Even before conception there are so many choices. The easiest path to take is to follow the general population. You don't cause ripples, you assume someone has researched for you, and if Mrs Bloggs' kids turned out OK, most likely yours will too.

Sometimes I wish I could take the easy way, but I can't. I feel I have to read up on every issue I encounter. Sometimes I come to a quick decision. It just feels right. I knew I wouldn't ever let my baby 'Cry it out'. Yes, I read a lot to support my decision, but I didn't need a book to tell me how wrong it feels to let a baby cry uncomforted. Then there are the decisions that took a little longer to make. I began bed sharing with a huge burden of guilt. I'd said all through pregnancy that I'd follow the FSID guidelines for safe sleeping, and keep my baby in a cot. After less than a week, she was in our bed, and closer research revealed that this was actually not just better for me, but also better for Alice, I felt vindicated.

Unfortunately, there are also decisions that I sit on the fence with. At 19 months old, Alice still hasn't had her MMR jab. Frankly, I hate both the idea of her having it, and the idea of her not having it. My heart and instincts are useless to me in this decision, and I'm so confused. Equally, should I get pregnant again, I don't know if I'll want dopplers and ultrasounds used on me. I find in medical matters, I'm completely clueless, and sway wildly from one point of view to the next.

In the natural parenting community, I think there is sometimes pressure (self imposed, I must add) to collect the full set: Breastfeed, babywear, bedshare, eat wholefood/vegan/raw/paleo/organic, don't vaccinate, use homoeopathy, home birth, practise EC, unschool, plus many others. Straying from these makes me feel uncertain. If people I respect and identify with have gone a particular way, maybe I should too. I suppose that a decision made purely to fit in with a particular group is as ill-considered as blindly taking the conventional route.

I may not always make the right choices. There are already many I regret, and there will be many more, but I hope my children will know I always had their best interests in mind.

Dandelion Syrup

After my previous post on dandelion tea, I thought I'd try a recipe using the flowers rather than the leaves. As ever, there are a million and one recipes for how to make it online, so I've cobbled my version together out of a few of them.

Pick as many flower heads as you can (ideally about 100) from a pesticide free area well away from roads. If you've got some in your garden, even better! Try to do this on a sunny day when the flowers are open. As ever when foraging, make sure you are absolutely sure what you're picking. There are some look-a-likes of dandelions, make sure you check exactly what you've found first. The one you're after has an unbranching hollow stem from a rosette of leaves.

Cut the ends off the flowers with a knife and remove the green sepals. They are edible, but they'll make the syrup more of a muddy colour. Put the petals in a sieve. This step takes a lot of patience, so don't hurry it. Probably best done outside with a nice glass of something summery.

Rinse the petals and add to a pan with just enough water to cover them. Turn on a low heat until it reaches boiling point, then remove from the heat, put a lid on and leave overnight to infuse. If you've not got time, you could simmer the petals for 20 minutes instead.

Strain the liquid and weigh it. Squeeze in the juice of half a lemon. Add the same weight of white sugar as liquid to your pan, and heat gently, stirring until the sugar has dissolved. Continue simmering until the liquid becomes syrupy. This took about half an hour for me.

Pour into sterilised bottles or jars and keep any opened ones in the fridge.

You can use the syrup as a cordial, poured over pancakes or add hot water for a soothing drink. Apparently, you an also add some pectin and keep boiling the syrup to make dandelion jam. A project for another day!

Dandelion Tea

I've been in need of a bit of a spring time tonic lately, so thought I'd make use of a plant that is permanently taking over my garden. Dandelions.

I'm no expert when it comes to nutrition and the properties of plants, but I do remember that an alternative and rather less charming name for dandelions is piss-a-bed! It's a handy reminder that dandelions have long been known as a diuretic, and act as a cleanser on the body. The whole plant is edible - roots, leaves and flowers. Apparently, it is a good source of Vitamin A and K and various other vitamins and minerals. See here for a fuller description.

To make my tea, I just pick about 10 young leaves, tear them into pieces and pour on boiling water leaving it to brew for about 5 minutes before straining. I like to add a drop of lemon juice for a fresher flavour.

Healthy, tasty and counts as weeding my garden!

Thanks Mum

It's my second Mothering Sunday since Alice was born, and I've been treated like a queen by my husband. You could argue that our mothering is something that should be celebrated year round, and it is for us, but I think it's nice to have a day when we can really focus on what we're grateful for.

I got thinking about my own mum and what a huge impact she's had on my journey as a mother. One of the many things I am grateful for is that she breastfed me until I was 18 months old until the day I said 'No gack', and that was that. I don't have any clear memories of her feeding me, but she often told me fond memories of how I fed, and I was brought up knowing that breastfeeding was not only normal and natural, but that it felt great too. Having her example before me as I started out as a mother, I never even considered formula as an option, and never doubted my ability to feed my baby. I'm sure that confidence is often half the battle when it comes to breastfeeding, and having a positive role model on the end of the phone boosted that confidence no end.

She had me at a time when she'd moved away from family, to a small town with few friends around her. She didn't read books on child rearing or take much advice from others (I am grateful for it!) but she mothered according to her instincts. She tells me now that she often felt as if she was doing it wrong. She fed me on demand and to get me to sleep. I was a fussy baby who frequently cried, and she would hold me rather than leave me to cry it out. Now I am raising Alice in much the same way, she says that she has come to realised that the way she did things weren't so bad after all!

I'm also grateful for the respectful way she raised me. There was no 'Because I said so" in our relationship. I was treated with the same consideration as an adult, and felt I would always be listened to. That feeling is something I hope Alice also experiences. My feelings, however odd, were validated rather than ridiculed. When I had a phase of nightmares, my parents' bed was always open to me, and always felt like a safe haven. When I struggled at school, my mum always took my side and recognised that sick days weren't always about physical illness, but mental welfare too. She was (and is) a fixer of things, and she'd take an interest in any problem I brought to her. She eased my path through my childhood, and is still doing it now I'm an adult.

We speak every day, usually more than once, and see each other every fortnight. She's my closest friend, and a wonderful grandmother to Alice. If I can be proud of any part of my mothering, it's because I was mothered so well myself. Thanks mum.