Car Hostage, AKA When Your Kids Fall Asleep In The Car

As I sat outside my house today, in my car, with the engine running, windows open, radio off, phone on silent, willing myself not to slurp my get me through the afternoon coffee, so as not to disturb the three sleeping beauties that are my children, it dawned on me that I have in fact mastered all of the incredible skills of a stealth ninja.  Actually I take that back.  Stealth ninja's are difficult to find so that can't be me because my children manage to find me no matter how well I think I've covered my tracks! (They are in fact, as committed to the cause as Daniel Day Lewis was in The Last of the Mohicans - no matter how long it takes, no matter how far, I WILL FIND YOU"
 https://www.youtube.com/watch )

OK, so I don't meet the first of Urban Dictionary's stealth ninja criteria but I sure do excel at the second two:
1. Extremely mysterious
Spelling out words, talking reallllllyyy sllllloooooowwwwlllllyyyyy and/or in Irish, hand gestures, passing notes, morse code, subliminal messages, alter egos, nervous ticks have all become part of covert daily communications.  At times I reckon I'd give 007 a good run for his money.
2. Lightening fast
If you want to see faster than the speed of light in action, then look no further than me on the couch, with a cup of tea, happily about to enjoy my delicious, waited for all day chocolate mothering reward, when I hear a little voice calling me.  It is quite the skill to make an entire, under threat piece of cake disappear in zero point five seconds let me assure you.

See, ninja! And here's another few awesome talents I have - I know where every creaking floor board in the house is.  I know, exactly, down to the tinniest millimeter how high I can lift the duvet to read on my phone without causing sleep disturbance to which ever trespasser is in my bed.  I know that I can get three children dressed in the time it takes the porridge to cook - that's 2 minutes per child, pretty darn impressive.  I know I can smuggle chocolate eclairs into my mouth by pretending they are either beetroot or broccoli.  I know how to negotiate peace treaties better than any UN Diplomat.  I know that silence amongst children is nearly always deadly (often resulting in an unfortunate incident with the long suffering dog) and finally I know that whenever someone says "it wasn't me" it always, always, ALWAYS was them.

I think a role in Skylander awaits!!!

Sitting afraid to move in said car also reminded me of that time I got stuck in the car wash and had to Google the petrol station number so I could ring them to get someone to rescue me (admittedly not very ninja like) but that's a story for another day!!!

Due Dates & Daydreams

This week we should be celebrating a second birthday.  I should be baking a cake and deciding which much loved Disney character will adorn it.  I should be bestowing birthday kisses, helping to blow out candles and smiling in pride as another milestone in my child's life is reached.  Party photos should be added to the album that houses other precious memories - first steps, first tooth, first hair cut.  My older children should be chasing my younger ones across the garden, hiding behind bushes and waiting to shout "found you".  A small hand should be enclosed in mine.  Bright eyes should twinkle at me.  Two perfect lips should say words my heart aches to hear.  Instead the date will go by like it did last year.  Just another collection of numbers, important only to me.  Remembered only by me.  There will be no party in this house this July, or any other because there was no baby born here in July.  There is only what should have been.

So I will wake on July 27th, the day my fourth baby was due and I will take my cup of tea out to the garden and I will stand with pieces of my heart missing at the spot where my babies are buried and I will breathe.  Sometimes tears come.  Sometimes I get angry.  Sometimes I smile because loss has taken me on the journey to where I am now.  It's so much a part of not only the mother but also the woman that I am.  It colours my days because I know that life is precious.  It's for packing full of laughter.  This week I will hold my precious 8 month old son in my arms and I will love him and his older brother and sister until my heart bursts and my lost babies will be there with us, as we hop and skip and chase in the garden because they are my children and I am their mother and they are in all that I do.

"Golden slumbers fill your eyes,

Smiles await you when you rise,

Sleep pretty darling do not cry,

And I will sing a lullaby".

Calling Time On Controlled Crying

This morning on a parenting website I read an article (I use the term loosely) on controlled crying - a technique for training babies to fall asleep on their own, in which the child is left to cry for gradually increasing periods of time before being comforted.

This particular article suggested that the period of time not exceed 15 minutes.  15 minutes of standing outside a bedroom door listening to your infant child communicating in the only way they know how and ignoring that communication.  I was appalled.  And thankfully I wasn't alone as during the course of the morning numerous complaints led to the article being withdrawn.

I'm really not one to interfere in other people's parenting decisions but come on, have we really moved so far from our mothering instincts that it is not only considered normal but is being actively advised by so called sleep training experts that we control our babies cries?  That we control how our baby sleeps?

Look, I understand that being in a zombie like state for much of the day isn't necessarily fun.  I have spent a large portion of my adult life dealing with periods of insomnia.  I know that lack of sleep can have a huge impact on mood, on decision making, on our relationships.  I also know that if I were left alone in a room crying my heart out for up to 15 minutes at a time while the very people who are supposed to love and care for me most were standing just a few feet away I'd feel pretty damn bad about myself.

If your best friend were crying on your door step would you say "oh sorry buddy, hang on there for 15 minutes" and shut the door in their face?  No? So why the hell is it OK to do it to an infant?  And not just any infant, our own infants, that only months before were cocooned in the safety and warmth of our bodies.  I simply do not get it and I imagine it's pretty damn confusing for them too.

Co-sleeping with 2 of my three children

The advice explicitly said "do not pick up your baby".  Babies are not manipulative.  They don't come into the world with an express interest in making sure our sleep is disrupted forever more.  This notion of a "good" baby, a baby that sleeps "through the night" from two weeks of age is a myth and a dangerous one.  Babies are biologically designed to wake frequently during the night, aside from the obvious fact that their tummies are tiny and therefore they require food little and often, frequent waking also helps prevent sudden infant death syndrome.

During my training as an infant massage instructor I came across a book by psychotherapist Sue Gerhardt called "Why Love Matters".  In it she draws on the field of neurochemistry and examines how daily interactions between a baby and his primary care giver have a direct impact on the way in which that child's brain develops.  Our earliest experiences are translated into physiological response patterns which in turn become the rules that govern how we deal with not only our feelings, but the feelings of others for the rest of our lives.  In other words the love we receive in infancy and early childhood forms the blueprint for our future.

When an infant is crying, the hypothalamus (the link between the nervous and endocrine systems) produces a hormone called cortisol.  Normal amounts of cortisol do not pose difficulties and in fact fuel our fight or flight response but if a baby is exposed to stressful situations, such as being left to cry for too long or too often then the brain can become flooded by cortisol.  Every time thereafter, that child is exposed to stress, his or her brain will produce either too little or too much cortisol.  Too much has been linked to depression while too little has been associated with emotional detachment and aggression.

If stress hormones are chronically elevated, cortisol will destroy healthy immune cells that fight viruses and tumors and keep the immune system healthy.

Maybe, just maybe this is the stuff that we as parents need to know.  Maybe we should be guided by our infant and our instincts rather than a timer.  Maybe if our baby is crying, we should simply hold them in our arms and let them know they are safe and they are loved, even if it does mean we have to stay awake to tell them!

My almost 4 year old regularly seeks reassurance in our bed during the night 

Letting My Baby Lead The Way

I've been a mother now for nearly 7 years.  During this time I've developed my own eclectic parenting style.  I dip in and out of parenting books (more out than in these days).  I try to read up to date research.  I draw on the psychology I studied as part of my undergraduate degree.  I follow tips I have gotten form other moms online.  I take what works for me and my family and I run with it.  One thing that has worked really well over the years and that just makes sense for us is baby led weaning. It's really exactly what it says on the tin.  The baby takes the lead in the weaning process.  I have breastfed all my children.  They have been in control of their own food intake from the get go and so it has always seemed like a natural progression for them to just reach for food from my plate as soon as they were ready to do so - generally around the 26 week mark.  Although the littlest here is almost 8 months and is only getting into his stride in the last few weeks.  The HSE have adopted the most up to date World Health Organisation guidelines which suggest that around 6 months is the optimal time for the introduction of solids.  Current research suggests that prior to this babies gut is simply not ready and the early introduction of foods can increase the risk of infections and allergies.

Pasta with roast veggies

The premise of baby led weaning (BLW from here on in) is that baby eats what the family are eating. No need for purees or for mashing.  No need for freezing ice cube trays.  No (devoid of flavour, not to mention nutrients) baby rice.  As soon as children become developmentally capable of feeding themselves that's exactly what they start to do.  Being responsible for feeding a family of five, this makes my life easier on so many levels.  The term was originally coined by a UK midwife and health visitor, Gail Rapley, although I imagine before the advent of mass marketing our grandmothers and great grandmothers simply called it eating!

Chomping on a bread roll at a local barbecue 

BLW allows babies to explore foods for themselves.  Getting to grips with different sizes and textures encourages dexterity right from the start.  It provides an opportunity for baby to practice chewing, thus helping to develop the facial muscles.  It aids hand - eye coordination, the development of the pincer grip and fosters confidence, independence and decision making.  As a parent it is a real joy for us all to enjoy meal times together - including Poppy the dog who sits patiently waiting for spills.

Because my children eat what we eat there is very little they haven't tried.  I love to cook and generally we eat a huge variety of foods from prawns. calamari, crab claws and steak to avocado, hummus, beetroot, butternut squash, sweet potato etc.  It often amazes people to see little people tucking into such a wide variety of foods.

I know when we started the process with our eldest there was an initial choking worry, definitely not helped by the gagging, coughing and spluttering that sometimes went on.  Reading more about babies gag reflex helped to allay any fears.  An infants gag-reflex is further forward and so more easily activated than an adults.  Gagging actually pushes food away from the airway if it is too big to swallow and shows that baby is learning  how to manage food safely.  Babies certainly don't appear to be phased by it and usually carry on munching.  A choking baby will be silent, because no air is able to get past the blockage.  Undertaking a paediatric first aid course also helped me to relax a bit more.

Baked salmon, corn on the cob & potatoes 

So what do you need to practice BLW?  1. A baby. 2. Some food.  It really is that simple but as with everything, there are some guidelines:

- Baby should be in and around 26 weeks and showing signs of readiness i.e reaching for foods.  Waking at night is not a sign that baby is ready for the introduction of solids.  Babies are designed to wake often during the night, it's a preventative measure against SIDS.
- Baby should be able to sit upright, with support if necessary and have good head control.
- Baby should be allowed to go at his own pace.  A parent should not try and "help" by putting things into his mouth.
- Baby should not be left alone while they are eating.
- Potentially dangerous foods such as peanuts and honey should be completely avoided, as should fast foods and foods high in salt and sugar.

Keeping those suggestions in mind has led me on a really incredible journey with my older children, and now again with my littlest.  Watching his expressions change as he seeks out a new flavour, seeing his dexterity increase as the weeks go by, sharing my love of good food with him, it's just a wonderful experience.  An incredibly messy, wonderful experience but who doesn't love a good mess???

Getting to grips with a water beaker 

Chocolate Mousse For My Dairy Free Goose(s)

This delicious, simple, healthy and most importantly for us dairy free chocolate mousse has just received a massive thumbs up from my older two. It's another rainy day and we are vegging with tv and duvets so this seemed like the perfect addition. My nearly four year old polished hers off, smacked her lips and proclaimed 'let's make it again, I really love it'.

Two happy customers 

I started the process by chopping and freezing two bananas.  This made plenty for my smallies but would need additional for adult portions or more kids. Ideally bananas should be frozen over night but definitely not for less than two hours.

Next I put a tin of coconut milk in the fridge. Again over night works best but a few hours is fine. Creamed coconut works too.  Refrigeration enables the cream to separate from the milk and rise to the top making it easy to scoop out and giving a lovely smooth texture to the mousse. I do the same when making coconut yoghurts.

Remove bananas from freezer

Once bananas are frozen remove from freezer. Open coconut milk and scoop out the cream on top.

Scoop out creamed coconut milk which rises to top during refrigeration

Add bananas and coconut milk to a nutribullet or blender. Add one tablespoon of cacao. I use Bioglan Organic.  If you prefer a stronger flavour add extra cacao. If you want a sweeter flavour add one teaspoon of agarve syrup or honey into the mix.

Add one teaspoon of agarve syrup 

Blend all ingredients 

Blitz all ingredients and voilà. One light, creamy, dairy free chocolate mousse.

Ready to be devoured

My taste testers 

My First (And Last) Car Boot Sale

Is one man's trash really another man's treasure?  After today's little adventure I think it's safe to say that my trash is sadly just my trash.  I am guilty of being an absolute hoarder.  I frequently go through my packed wardrobe, pull things out, stuff them into bags and earmark them for the charity shop, only to shove said bag into the back of the press and pull it out a couple of months later and refill the wardrobe with things that I haven't seen in a while and "might" just "get a wear out of".  

As my family has expanded so has the amount of "stuff" that we have amassed.  The laundry piles have gotten higher and harder to keep on top of.  The play room resembles the wake of a tornado. Organised chaos reigns.  So, in a desperate bid to reclaim some semblance of control I finally decided to get ruthless and have a massive declutter and as I had never been to a car boot sale before I decided it might be a fun thing to try.

Fun turned out to be some seriously hard slog for not a whole lot of financial gain.  Toys, books, shoes, coats, clothes, DVDs, hats, scarves, paintings, photo frames, cushion covers, old baby equipment, candles - you name it I had it, sitting in a pile on my hall floor.  I spent the best part of Saturday sorting things into piles and packing the car so that I'd be ready for Sunday's early start.   

Collecting items to sell 

Packing the car

I had heard great things about the Kilkenny Car Boot Sale, on the Callan Road just outside the city.  I was advised to be there at 7am to claim my pitch and set up for the day.  Selling starts at 8am.  It was an early, coffee fueled start.  I had read bits and pieces about pricing and trying not to appear like the new kid on the block but I failed pretty miserably by blurting out "Eh I've never been here before, where should I go?" as soon as I crossed the gate.  Thankfully a kindly neighbour took me under his wing and before long I had unpacked the car and had my first customers arrive.  

6am Start 

My little market stall

The sun was shining and there was a great buzz as people came and went, some ready to barter, some lingering for a chat, while others just had a quick browse before moving on.  It was very surreal at times to see elements of my life spread out for strangers to remark upon.  To know that items which were important to me - little shoes that once housed my daughters precious piggies, cuddly toys that once slept enfolded in my sons arms - held no value to others.  I felt nostalgic at times.  It was an exercise in letting go and I tried to embrace it.  I sold books for as little as 10 cent.  My biggest sale was two pairs of my husbands old football boots which went for €16.  Dresses, some never worn and with tags went for €3 each.  I was clearly not going to make my fortune on this particular Sunday.

I had hoped to sell the majority of items and drop anything that didn't sell off at our local charity shop tomorrow but as the day wore on and things got quieter it became clear that I had sold all I was going to sell and so the car was packed up once more and I arrived home absolutely exhausted.  After paying my €20 sellers fee I was left with a profit of €79.  Not a whole lot for a 6am start, an hour long return journey and 8 hours work!  There are definitely easier ways to make a few bob.  I had some pretty decent items.  I wasn't looking for a whole lot for them and anything anyone showed an interest in I let it go so I'm not really sure how I could have done better.

What I did earn was a new found respect for people who do this type of thing on a weekly basis.  I'm not a naturally confident person.  Making small talk with strangers isn't something that comes easily to me so to have spent the day doing it was an enjoyable challenge.  Ultimately I don't think I missed my calling as a sales woman and I'm pretty sure my first experience of car boot sale selling will also be my last!

Discovering The Healthiest, Yummiest Ice Cream EVER

My daughters cows milk protein allergy and my own issues with gluten intolerance and leaky gut have taken me on a nutritional learning journey in recent times and there's one word that keeps coming up in the posts I read and on forum discussions, kefir.  Taken from the Turkish word "keif" which translates as "good feeling", Kefir has long been heralded in traditional cultures for its healing properties, but you know us modern folk love a good scientific study and currently kefir is the source of many which aim to determine its therapeutic value.

Kefir Grains 

In short kefir is a fermented milk product.  It is cultured from grains, jam packed with beneficial bacteria and yeasts.  It is said to deliver more probiotic power than any other probiotic product, including processed supplements.  So with all of this in mind, you can imagine my delight when I came across the magic, healthy deliciousness of Kefi - a simple pot of ice-cream, made right here in Ireland.

Kefi is the brainchild of Conor Saunders, a nutritional therapist, who began experimenting with adding juices and freezing when he couldn't get his kids to drink traditional kefir, which apparently is not to everyone's taste. (I'm trying to source some grains at the moment to start making my own but I fear I've rather spoiled us all now with yummy ice-cream).

After consulting with a nutritional therapist for myself and all three of my children, including my almost 8 month old we were all advised to build up our gut health and embarked on a regime of probiotics and digestive enzymes but since finding Kefi I really don't feel the need to supplement. Anything that makes my life easier is always a winner!

Two things concerned me however - the use of dairy as an ingredient for my dairy intolerant daughter and the sugar content for my wee man.  Thankfully Conor, being only a stone's throw away in Wicklow, didn't mind answering my questions.

Kefi is made from kefir-fermented dairy. Not dairy free then! No problem. Conor says there is every reason to believe that Kefi is tolerated by those who don't tolerate regular dairy.  He explains that the "good bugs" within the product make a range of naturally occuring enzymes that work to break up the proteins and lactose in dairy irrespective of whether the person eating the product has those enzymes. In other words Kefi "auto digests".  Pretty cool, eh?

Being a complete sugar addict - partly due to poor gut health and partly due to having zero will power I am trying really hard to cut refined and processed sugars from our diets. I'm very conscious that my littlest not be introduced to sugars so early in life.  Conor assures me that Kefi is sweetened only with grape juice and contains less sugar per serving than most typical servings of fruit - less than an average apple, orange, banana etc.  It is also 30 times as potent in terms of CFU score and contains many more strains than some of the leading brands of probiotics on our shelves and is fine for babies 6 months plus.

This news makes me both happy and sad.  Happy that my baby son gets to have all of the wonderful health benefits - sad that there's another mouth I need to share with!

Conor also adds that Kefi retains its probiotic power perfectly for up to a year in the freezer.  This however is completely irrelevant to me as there is no way in hell it'll be in my freezer for that length of time.

To find out more and for local stockists visit  http://www.kefi.ie/ 

Enjoy! 

Our Summer Fun Jar

It's week two of the summer holidays and the "What are we doing today Mom?" "Where are we going today Mom?" questions are pretty relentless.  At times it seems like an interrogation.  Good cop/bad cop. A tag team of little people hell bent on slowly driving me crazy.  This week I put the thinking cap on and "Our Summer Fun Jar" was born.  A whole summer of fun, in just one jar, you say? How is this possible?

Our summer fun jar 

Take two energetic children, several A4 pages, a scissors, some colouring pencils and a Kilner jar and let the magic happen.  (My little people need help with the big people scissors).  We sat down and each shouted out our favourite things to do - picnics at the beach, a visit to the zoo, exploring in the National History Museum, putting on sock puppet plays, water fights, taking train journeys, movie days with popcorn & jellies, reading Roald Dahl in the garden - the possibilities are truly endless.  

My son did the writing, while (after trying to decipher her hieroglyphics) my daughter was encouraged to decorate the slips of paper before folding them up and popping them into the jar.  This in itself proved to be a fun way to spend an hour and some of the more optimistic suggestions - such as a trip to the moon and asking Santa for our very own minion - raised lots of giggles.

The idea is that each day one of the children gets to choose the next days activity from the jar and that's how we spend the day.  It means that everyday there is something special planned, ranging from expensive days eating in fancy restaurants wearing a smart tie (courtesy of my eldest son) to toasting marshmallows by the fire pit in the garden before bed (thanks to a sugar addicted me) to painting rainbows on the paths around our house (from the fairy princess that is my 3 year old daughter).  

Obviously there will be days when we need to be flexible due to our "changeable" (ahem) Irish weather or pre existing arrangements but the kids understand that and again it teaches them new skills around planning and negotiating.  

So far this week we've had a rainy day cinema trip and a lot of splashing around in the local swimming pool.  Today it's feeding the ducks in the park.  It's taken the pressure off me to try and entertain and answer questions constantly and it's given the kids a real sense of involvement in how we choose to spend our precious free time together. 

Introducing Agnes & Margot - The Rescue Chickens

The newest members of the Quirke Joyce household joined us on Sunday and Emily the lonely chicken is lonely no more.  She does, however appear to be having anger issues!  I didn't realise that chickens were quite so territorial.  I've had to do some research fast to try and make the transition as easy as possible for the rescue girls.  They are in a pretty sorry state and honestly, even though we mostly have our own eggs I wouldn't ever buy eggs from a store again.  To see any animal malnourished and bleeding truly makes my heart sore.

 Agnes

 Margot

Agnes, missing feathers and damaged skin

On Sunday LittleHill Animal Rescue picked up and re-homed 160 caged chickens which otherwise would have been destroyed.  It was their first July rescue mission. Independence day and it was hugely successful.  Two dedicated staff drove for miles around the country carrying the chickens to the safety of new lives in a beat up old horse box.  There was a queue of people waiting at the first drop off in the car park of Lidl in Carlow town and at drop off points all over Leinster.  We took our girls home and with much excitement the kids helped settle them into their run.  They were as saddened as I was to see these two skinny birds with missing feathers and raw skin.  It quickly became clear to us all that the poor chickens didn't know what to do with all this open space and food on offer.  They cowered and trembled, screeched and squalked and when adopted big sister Emily came along to see what all the commotion was about, things went from bad to worse, as she quickly fought to establish the pecking order.  Having never witnessed this before it's a pretty brutal attack.  I've felt like intervening several times but nature knows what’s what.

Emily paced and pecked.  She stalked in and out of the coop.  She refused to let the others in and eventually when they got passed her, she refused to go in herself.  Late on Sunday night she was still protesting outside and eventually had to be lifted in.  Who knows what happened during the night but she has since refused to go into the coop, instead seeking refuge in an old dog house.  I’m hoping that in time she’ll build a bridge and maybe even move back in but for now I guess she needs to do things her own way and has naturally quarantined herself.  I didn't realise the importance of the quarantine process, not just to prevent the spread of disease but also to minimise attacks on weaker chickens.  So for the next couple of weeks she can stay in her self imposed exile. It's the best thing all round and I'm hopeful I haven't made a rookie mistake.

Agnes and Margot meanwhile were christened with mite powder and disinfectant.  They are starting to explore their surroundings.  They’ve been watching the rain with interest from the shelter of their open coop.  They’ve started to eat and drink the food that’s scattered around for them instead of just from the feeder and they have both laid delicious eggs.  All positive settling in signs.  My six year old son has been busy making obstacle courses for them and checks on them throughout the day.  I'm delighted to see him take such an interest.  I think it's so important for my children to know where their food comes from and to have it ethically sourced.  

In 2012 the EU ruled that it was no longer permissible to keep laying hens in battery cages.  Since then the majority of the over 2.2 million laying hens here in Ireland have been kept in "enriched cages".  These cages have a small perch, a scratching area, a nest and claw sharpening devices and can house anywhere up to 60 plus birds. 

Photo of enriched cage courtesy of Compasssion In World Farming 

Hens are caged when they are around 18 weeks old, just before they start to lay.  About a year they start lay fewer eggs and on most farms hens will be taken to a slaughterhouse where their meat is then used to make pet food, among other things. 

This is where animal rights activists such as LittleHill Animal Rescue step in, negotiating with farmers, collecting hens, finding them new homes and organising drop offs, all for a minimum fee which goes straight back into their sanctuary.  They and others like them work tirelessly and often thanklessly to better the conditions of poorly treated animals, 

There will be further rescue missions throughout the month of July and anyone interested in adopting hens can find out more from their Facebook page.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/LittleHill-Animal-Rescue-Sanctuary/201575106530501?fref=ts

A Visit To The Breast Clinic

There is something very humbling about sitting in a radiology department, wearing a paper gown that opens at the front.  The sign on the door says "Breast Clinic In Progress".  The pain in my breast is searing and the fear in my heart is very real.  The nurse assures me in hushed tones that the doctor is "very good" and "really lovely". Her easy manner and reassuring smile offer comfort.

It's a beautiful sunny day and I should be hitting the beach, I think, laden down with buckets & spades and sandy sandwiches and squabbling children.  I wish that's where I was.  I'm trying to get there in my mind but the burning sensation in my right breast refuses to allow it.

I've had ongoing pain for months.  I'm breastfeeding my 7 month old son who has a posterior tongue and upper lip ties.  It's been challenging.  I've had recurrent mastitis, blocked ducts, vasospasm but this stabbing, take my breath away pain, is something relatively new.  Something that isn't going away with antibiotics or the prescription painkillers I'm taking twice a day.  Something that's frightening me.

It's probably nothing.  It's probably related to the difficulties I'm having with feeding but I can't help but let my mind wander. I'm called into the ultrasound room and as I am laying down, the doctor comes in and she is every bit as lovely as I was told she would be.  She asks about my symptoms as she covers my breast in gel and starts to run the probe up and down across my chest.  I don't realise that I'm holding my breath. Ultrasounds and I are not friends.  I'm watching the screen but I don't know what I am looking at or for.  Then she is finished and I hear myself exhale as the smiling doctor tells me that what she is looking at is a perfectly normal, lactating breast and that from her point of view there is absolutely nothing to worry about.  

Relief washes over me but is almost instantly replaced by questions.  If there is no underlying problem then what exactly is causing the pain?  What does she recommend?  Starflower oil and no guilt if I decide to stop breastfeeding are the answers.  I'm handed some literature on breast examination and told to check my breasts regularly and get very familiar with what is "normal" for me and then I'm finished and I'm back in my own clothes, on the road home, to my baby, whom I hold closely and feed while thinking about just how lucky I am. 

Emily, the lonely chicken

Some women get to be the mother of dragons.  Not me.  My hair is not golden enough.  My family, not royal enough.  Me, I'm the mother of chickens.  Or chicken singular.  A sad, lonely girl at that. There is no doubt that she is depressed.  Her shoulders (yes chickens have shoulders) are hunched. Her eyes are dull.  Her movements are slow.  She rarely comes out of her coop to say hello and she hasn't given us an egg in over a week.  I'm no chicken expert but she definitely isn't the happy girl we've come to know and love.

Emily & her sister Pecky came to live with us over a year ago now and for a long time domestic bliss reigned.  We had fresh eggs everyday, sometimes twice a day.  Poppy, the dog took to her role as big sister with gusto and the three coexisted very happily.  Maybe too happily and we got complacent in our free ranging, until one day a couple of months ago, Pecky disappeared.  The trail of evidence lead to one very sheepish doggy, although to this day we haven't figured out exactly what happened.

Emily & Pecky settling in one their 1st day while Poppy looks on 

Cake baking with eggs fresh from the garden

Always the quieter of the two, Emily, took the loss badly.  She lost a lot of her feathers and she stopped laying for a few weeks but gradually she started to come out of her shell and she was back to being a healthy, happy chicken.  Although she has never fully regained her trust in Poppy.  A couple of weeks ago I started noticing her coming into the garden less and less.  When I'd check on her she would make a keening noise from inside the coop.  She needed encouragement to eat and drink.  I thought she was bound (thank you backyardchickens.com) but that wasn't the problem.  It never dawned on me that she might be lonely, neglectful mother that I am.  I mentioned it to a friend of mine who keeps hens and straight away he suggested that she had either been attacked or she was lonely.  There were no visible signs of distress or injury and so light bulb moment - Emily needs a friend.

Emily photobombing in happier times!!

Thankfully I've found a solution in the form of the wonderful hen rescue programme run by LittleHill Animal Rescue & Sanctuary and two new ladies are coming to live with us on Sunday.  During the month of July LittleHill aim to rescue and re-home over 1,000 chickens from battery farms.  They spend hours liasing with farmers, organising new homes and transportation and ask only that adoptive families contribute €5, which gets reabsorbed into the sanctuary.  

LittleHill operate a no kill policy, so that no animal in their care will ever be put to sleep, unless it is suffering.  I'm so happy to have come across the work that they do here.  I'm looking forward to introducing Emily to her new sisters and to once again having a fridge full of delicious fresh eggs. 

But for now Ì'm off to find my book of girls names and root out my knitting needles.  After all, I am the mother of chickens!!

A rescue chicken, complete with knitted jumper to keep her warm

http://littlehillanimalrescue.ie/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/LittleHill-Animal-Rescue-Sanctuary

Family Photo's

Few things capture "I love you" like the family photo. Family life, in a snapshot which will forever more adorn the walls of hallways and living room mantels the world over.  No pressure right?

I love photographs.  They are on every available surface of my house. The smiling faces of my kids at various stages of their young lives. Myself and friends on some far flung adventure. My husbands sporting achievements. My parents wedding anniversary. Happy times.  Here's the but - I love unposed, natural photos.  For some reason when someone produces a camera and says "cheese" that's exactly what I turn into. A giant, awkward, ball of grinning cheese.  

So although thrilled when we were gifted a family photo session, I was also anxious.  First world problems, I know but a legacy of horrendous communion and confirmation photos has taken it's toll.

I found myself frantically googling what to wear, how to stand, how to not look like a complete idiot in your family photo.  For the woman who has to make a daily choice between having a shower or eating breakfast I knew getting and keeping five of us clean and out the door was going to be no mean feat.  And don't even get me started on choosing outfits.  Thankfully I found loads of helpful tips from photography websites. 

Choose coordinating rather than matching colours

Having two boys and a very girly girl I really wanted to find something that would work for us all so I choose my daughters favourite skirt and built around the colours in that - beiges, blues, pinks - all complimenting colours.

Limit the use of patterns

I limited patterns to one item of clothing each for the kids and us grown ups just wore a straight block of colour. Patterns can detract from the overall image by making it appear too busy.

Say no to novelty or character t-shirts

Like patterns these can really detract from the final look of the photo.  They will also date.

Don't be afraid to accessorise

As in any situation accessories can really add to the look of an outfit.  Things like ties, scarves, hats, necklaces and even teddy bears can all be used to add character or as a talking point.

Planning ahead

Think about the kinds of photographs you would like.  As well as a good family picture I also wanted to get individual photos of each of the children, all three together, just the boys, just the girls etc.  It's good to give the photographer a list of your requirements so that you come away from the experience happy.  

Relax & Enjoy the experience

My family are my favourite people in the world.  I love spending time with them so even though I look like a deer startled by headlights when put in front of a camera I just tried to view the photography session as something new and fun for us to try. I loved seeing the kids interact with each other, pose with silly faces, hug each other fiercely and I just tried to relax and let that shine through.

The end result is a mixture of some really beautiful shots which I'll proudly display coupled with some dodgier ones which will play hide-and-seek in a very dark drawer for a very long time!

I Love Breastfeeding

I love breastfeeding. I love the incredible health benefits it gives to myself and my children. I love that as a mom on the go I can just feed on the sidelines of gaelic/soccer/ rugby/ athletics fields whilst watching my older kids train. Not to mention the swimming pool, ballet lessons and the grocery store car park. Breastfeeding is highly compatible with life as a taxi driver - oh sorry, I mean mum of three! 

I love that it's free. I love that I can leave the house with a nappy and wipes and my boobs.  I love that my body knows exactly what my baby needs.  I love the journey that breastfeeding has taken me on, different with all three of my children. Each journey throwing up different challenges.  It is these challenges that have led me to seek out help and support. And I have found it in spades, both on and offline.  There is a whole community of incredible, strong, knowledgeable women who have got my back.  

My seven month old has a posterior tongue tie and an upper lip tie.  I knew within days of his birth that feeding wasn't what it should be. Yes breastfeeding can initially be sore and uncomfortable but when your toes are curling and you are in tears dreading feeding your baby there is something wrong.  But every breastfeeding problem has a breastfeeding solution and with the right help and support difficulties can be overcome.  Sometimes a minor tweak or change in positioning is all that is required.

Breastfeeding my littlest at times makes me really sad.  I fed his older sister until one day when she was two and a bit she announced 'they don't work' and that was the end of that!

This time around I've had recurrent mastitis, sore, cracked,bleeding nipples, blocked ducts and the latest joy of joys is vasospasm - a constriction or narrowing of the blood vessels in the nipple causing extreme pain (especially on cold days). We've had two failed revisions and I've had times where I just want to scream in frustration. I feel I'm being deprived of the magical experience I know breastfeeding can be.

Being perfectly honest I'm looking forward to the day my son weans and that hurts my heart. Maybe if he wasn't my last I'd be more inclined to look at artificial feeding methods but he is my last. I'll never have this time again and so I'm determined that I will breastfeed for as long as he needs and breastfeeding needs are about so much more than nutrition.

Often those of us who are passionate about breastfeeding are accused of bullying and of making others feel bad. We are portrayed as doing something shameful by feeding our hungry babies in public. We are made to feel our bodies can't do what they are designed to do. We are undermined with poor information and ridiculous myths.

I've had a doctor tell me to stop making a martyr of myself and to give formula when I presented with a particularly bad episode of mastitis, advice that could have landed me in hospital, away from my new baby.  I've had health professionals tell me tongue tie isn't real, that it's some sort of trendy fad and that my son doesn't have one, when it was been doubly diagnosed by experts in breastfeeding.

And that is the crux of it and why so many of us feel we fail.  We are being failed by a complete lack of investment and it would seem interest on the part of our Government.

I'm so thankful to the incredible women of Cuidiu, La Leche League and Friends of Breastfeeding, who give so freely and generously of their time and their training, even at 4am, when you're a blubbering mess of hormones and tiredness.  I'm so thankful to the wonderful online community of mommas who are strangers to me in real life and yet know more about my parenting journey than some of those I meet at the school gate on a daily basis.

And I'll be forever grateful to the amazingly kind momma who after my latest online vent on a particularly bad day,took it upon herself to not only send me a treatment which would help ease my pain but also to include some delicious chocolates and some very kind words of encouragement.  A real hero.  Her kindness and the mantra of never quit on a bad day has kept me going.

Why I love being at home with my children

Before having my first child I was given lots of well meaning but sometimes utterly terrifying advice ­ sleep when they sleep, enjoy your free time now because you’ll never have it again, your body will never be the same, labour is ***** (insert expletive of choice here). What no one told me was that I might love becoming a mother so much that I would happily hang up my stilettoes, office job and perfectly coiffed hair in favour of a less glamorous but for me infinitely more rewarding career as Chief Executive Mom!

Here’s some of my favourite things about being at home with my kids:

Being there 100% for my children 
Although sometimes completely exhausting, not to mention a little overwhelming, this is one of the main reasons I chose to stay at home. I get to spend all day with these incredible people. I get to see them grow and develop everyday. Their first smiles were when our eyes met, funny faces at their first tastes of food, falling into my arms when taking faltering first steps. I kiss away sad tears and laugh outrageously at the chicken crossing the road for the 70th time. I’m there for first thing in the morning cuddles and last thing at night I love you’s and all that happens in between.

Lazy Days
Life gets a bit more restrictive as the children get older with school schedules and extracurricular activities but in those early days of being a Mommy the hours, days and weeks spent curled up on the couch or in bed with my newborns are some of my most precious memories. The smells, the skin­-to­skin, the breastfeeding, the gentle humming of lullabies.

New Interests
It turns out that chasing butterflies around the garden and explaining the life cycle of the earthworm has led me to develop interests I never in a gazillion years imagined I’d pursue. As well as growing our own veggies, we raise our own chicken (singular due to an unfortunate incident with the family dog). We compost! I’ve discovered I like to plant things and I take immense pleasure when little green buds emerge and I have somehow managed not to kill said herb / vegetable / flower /scrub. I even know how to make garden lasagne ­who knew!!  I make a mean chocolate cake too.

Friendships
I’ve been lucky enough to have the time to build long­lasting, close friendships with other mums. The kind of friendships that when the suppositories have run out and it's 2am and you have a screaming child on your hands you know they can come to your rescue. We share laughs and tears, struggles and joys as we move through our mothering journey together. They’ve got my back. They get it.

An Appreciation of My Body
My body is freaking awesome. There I've said it. My body grew three amazing people. Sadly it wasn't able to carry to birth the three more that grew within but in­spite of that it carried on working, even with it's heart broken it got me out of bed and kept me putting one foot in front of the other until I was eventually able to smile again and carry on, even with parts of me missing. My body nourished my babies with milk tailor made to suit their needs. My body has superpowers because a simple kiss from my lips can stop tears dead in their tracks.

Respect for other women
We laugh, we love, we cry, we hurt, we make tough decisions, we are hard on ourselves, we are hard on each other, we live, we lose, we birth, we bury. Women are incredible. We are a million different things rolled into one.

A Desire To Be Healthy
I want to be the best me that I can be for my children. I want to be around to see my grandchildren and maybe even their children. Being at home gives me time to learn about the foods we eat and their benefits to our health and well being. It gives me time to meal plan and to cook from scratch. I can bake cookies with my daughter whenever our greedy guts tell us we need them ­ which is a lot! I’m more conscious of taking my time reading labels and trying to steer us away from processed foods.

Me Time
O.k. so I love being with the kids but that doesn’t mean there aren’t days when my husband gets home that he literally doesn’t see me for dust I hightail it out of here so fast. We give so much of ourselves away and it is very easy for the children to become the sole focus of our energies. It’s so important to take time out to do the things we love and to remember the essence of who we are without having anyone demand anything of us. For me triathlon training gives me the time and space I need to recharge my batteries and come back to my family with my own spark in my eye.

Freedom
 I love creating my own schedule­ in the words of Princess Jasmine “No one to tell us no, or where to go lalalala”. Some days are jammie days just because someone hasn’t slept well or it’s cold and miserable outside or I just feel like snuggling my babies. Yes the school run gets in the way but sometimes a long coat and winter boots are all that’s needed to disguise a telltale onesie!! Being at home gives us the freedom to have an impromptu beach trip, a forest walk, a splash in the local pool, scones with jam and cream in a fancy cafe.

The Intensity Of Emotion
I never imagined that watching my eldest son score his first try at rugby training or my daughter skipping out of ballet practice or my littlest rolling over could make my heart swell with such immense pride. I never knew that seeing them cry would make my heart ache. I didn’t know that my last desire at night would be to creep into their rooms and plant one more kiss on their sleeping foreheads. I never dreamed that the ordinary could be so extraordinary. And I certainly never for one second believed that I deserved so much happiness.

Meeting My Rainbow Baby - November 2014

My darling little rainbow baby Ruairí was born peacefully at home on Wednesday the 19th of November at 7.17am. He emerged into water in the caul, totally unaffected by his birth journey. He crawled to the breast and fed within minutes of being born. It was an incredible experience, everything I had dreamed of and prepared for in the preceding months.

Supporters of home birth in Ireland will be only too familiar with the debacle that the HSE created with the unlawful removal of Philomena Canning's indemnity insurance.. We were one of families directly affected by this removal. I was 29 weeks pregnant when I learned of the situation via Facebook. To say it took away from the joy of my pregnancy is an understatement and I don't say that lightly. Philomena had been my midwife in 2011 when I had my daughter Evie.  I had engaged her services again in 2012 as soon as I discovered I was pregnant. Sadly that pregnancy ended in a miscarriage in the 13th week. It was Philomena I turned to for advice and support after leaving my local hospital without so much as a paracetamol, a sanitary towel or an information leaflet. Philomena talked me through the "mini labour" I would experience and advised my to have a bowl to hand so that I would be able to see the baby. This is something I am so grateful for. I was able to "birth" my baby at home, to hold him and love him and to say goodbye in a really personal and dignified way. 

Soon after, I discovered I was pregnant again and again engaged Philo's services. Sadly 7 weeks into the pregnancy I started to experience pain and dizziness and required emergency surgery after it was discovered that the pregnancy was ectopic and that I was experiencing internal bleeding. I lost my baby and my right fallopian tube. Those few months were the most horrendous of my life and there were dark days when I truly thought I would never smile again. And then in March after over a year of ovulation kits, negative pregnancy tests and sinking spirits we finally got our two blue lines and my journey towards healing my heart began.

Philomena was naturally an integral part of that journey. Her quiet confidence and calm reassurance helped me when I was sometimes so scared that I could barely breathe. To have that taken away from me with ten weeks to go in my pregnancy was devastating. It was heartbreaking to lose Philomenas care but also to see such a truly wonderful woman treated in such a disgusting way. Luckily for me the DMO for my area is a huge champion of home birth and truly couldn't believe the situation. She immediately organised to have my care transferred to Brenda O'Toole, whom I rang in a fit of tears asking her to take me on but at the same time not to take me on depending on whether or not the situation with Philomena were to be resolved. Brenda was so kind and sympathetic and we agreed to see how things panned out. After our rainy protest outside the Dail when I was 34 weeks pregnant, Philomena gave me a hug and told me she wouldn't be my midwife. I went home that day feeling deflated but I knew I needed to draw a line under it, shake myself off and focus all my energies on the positives.

The biggest being that I was still in a position to have my baby at home. Brenda was going to enable me to do that and she did. She fitted in seamlessly, being very unassuming, getting to know myself and my children, organising for our second midwife Nuria to call and meet me prior to birth and soon the horribleness of the HSE was exactly where it should be ­ far from my mind. The last few weeks of my pregnancy were hectic. Both of my children were born in the 37th week and so I had it in my mind that this baby would be much the same but as the time approached I felt run off my feet. We had a family wedding, I got a chest infection and then my aunt died. I was having a lot of braxton hicks and a couple of times felt things were really starting but then all would go quiet again and I felt that I was simply too busy and overwhelmed for a baby to be born and I trusted my baby and my body to know what to do. Every night I went to bed making sure the living room was tidy. The pool was inflated, the burco was plugged in, the hall press was full of all the things I'd need, my playlist was ready,my mood board was hanging up, positive affirmations were scattered around the house.

At 39+2 I went to bed with some back ache. I listened to my positive affirmations and I felt my baby squirming. He was really active,much more than he had been for days and I took that as a sign that we wouldn't be meeting for a while yet but a little while later a real sense of calm came over me and the words 'I'll be there soon Mommy' rang in my ears. I fell asleep with a huge smile, hugging my precious bump. I woke at 3am with that nagging periody ache. I couldn't settle back to sleep and by half 3 I thought I better pay attention to surges. I got up, made tea and a hot water bottle and pottered about for a few minutes. Surges came every 15 minutes and at 4.30 I decided to text Brenda. I was feeling nauseous.. I went to wake Alan, my husband and told him that I thought the baby was going to be born that day. He groggily said he wouldn't go to work, to which I replied never mind go to work, you need to get up now. I think it was only at that point that I knew the baby wasn't far away. We both went back downstairs. I rang Brenda and she said she was on the way. I lit my candles and oils and started to get in my comfort zone while Alan started to fill the pool. My daughter had been born in such a hurry that I hadn't gotten to use it last time and really wanted this baby to be born in water. When Brenda arrived at 5.30 I was using the ball to stretch out and listening to my relaxation tracks. Surges had gone pretty much straight to five mins. Brenda had a listen into babs and all was perfect. The next hour passed quickly, I was using the ball to rest my elbows on while circling my hips, or leaning against the wall during surges and really rocking my hips deeply from side to side, trying to stay loose and limp. Brenda was doing some really light massage on my back which really helped to focus me. I tried to use my tens machine but couldn't adjust it properly and was getting flustered. By that stage Nuria had arrived and both herself and Brenda just stayed in the shadows. By about 6.45 I was feeling a lot of pressure and was in and out to the toilet. The last trip to the toilet I asked Alan to come with me and while there I had a really big surge and felt a bit out of control. I was pacing and I remembered the feeling of being a lioness from the birth of my daughter. It’s that raw power of your body taking over and you just have to go with it. I went back to my den and quickly had another big surge. I said to Brenda that I felt I should get into the pool. I wanted to sit back and birth baby and catch him myself but two attempts at sitting down were too uncomfortable and so I stayed on my hands and knees,letting the water ease me. I must admit that I didn't feel particularly calm but then Nuria listened to the baby and took my pulse and she said 'wow you are both so calm, it's obvious you are athletic because your pulse is barely raised'. That made me feel like a total champion. In my head I thought 'yeah damn right I'm an athlete'!!!.

Alan was holding my hands and I could feel our baby descending and reached around to feel his head emerge. One more surge brought the rest of his body and I felt my waters release. Brenda passed our beautiful baby boy to me and I held him there in the water and my heart swelled with love and pride for the wonder that is birth.

It was 7.17. Alan brought our other children in to meet their baby brother and it was just so lovely to be all together. They had come in at 7 to say good morning and were watching cartoons and eating breakfast in the play room and then a few minutes later were greeting their brother. It was magical and for me just felt full circle.

I moved from the pool to the couch and delivered the placenta quite quickly thereafter. We named our little boy Ruairí and I placed him on my tummy and watched mesmerised as he crawled to my breast and started to feed. Later after lots of naked cuddles he was weighed and measured. He was 7lbs 6 ounces and 53cms. Nuria had asked me when he was born if she could take some pictures and I'm so glad because Alan had said he would but these things quickly get forgotten when there's a tiny, handsome newborn to stare at! She got some great pics and then we took some more with herself and Brenda before she left. Alan started to clear up, Brenda was doing her notes etc and I was laying on the couch wrapped in blankets holding my new love.

At about 11 Alan sat down with me and said 'this is exactly how it should be, look at us, at home, fire lightening, everything is cleared away, all our children are together, it's great'. And he was so right. It was exactly how it should be and so much more. It was magical.

Brenda was incredible. Her care was beyond fantastic, bringing me scones and homeopathic remedies when feeding was a struggle, suggesting books and articles I might find useful, constantly encouraging me. Nuria has also been great. As a lactation consultant she has been at the end of the phone for me with great advice while we wait for a tongue tie assessment. These two women enabled me to have the birth I desired and I'm so incredibly thankful for them and the work they do.

Philomena, although not physically present was with me in my heart, where there will always be a place for her. Sometimes I look at my little son and can't believe he's actually here and sometimes it's like I've always known him, with his little dimpled chin and calm way. He's like a missing jigsaw piece. I am totally and utterly head over heels and I feel complete.

I am once again honored to call myself mother to these three wonderful earth children and my two butterfly babies and I'm thankful to the HBA, AIMS, Gentle Birth and the three strong, passionate, loving midwives Philomena, Brenda & Nuria that I've been lucky enough to encounter for helping to empower and inspire me to have the births I wanted and to give myself and my babies the best possible start to their precious lives.

Thanks women, ye are terrific. Keep on keepin’ on!