and then there were two

My top tip for the novice vegetable gardener - read a book before you purchase your seedlings. That way, you can avoid varieties that only thrive in greenhouses in extreme humidity, within ten miles of the equator. Two out of four of my cucumber seedlings have flopped over with great dismay. I purchased a variety that need to be grown under glass in humid conditions, neither of which describes the shed in which they are currently housed. I am holding out hope for the remaining two and will keep them indoors until the summer. I am determined to make real dill pickles!

Remember when I longed for summer's return and Jim commented that I would only complain once it arrived? Although it's still spring, I would like to point out that the frackin' ants have returned and the neighbourhood birch trees are producing massive clouds of yellow pollen, covering our cars with an allergy-inducing layer of annoyance. And the rapeseed is back and I think I saw a mosquito the other day.

it's true, doctors really don't write legibly

A big giant envelope containing my hospital records and maternity notes arrived in the post last week. The whole process was surprisingly easy: I sent an email to the hospital, they emailed me a form to fill out and post back, and around four weeks later, my documents arrived. All for the low, low price of £10 (they can charge you up to £50, depending on the hospital). Reading everything was far less traumatising and upsetting than I thought it would be and in fact, there was nothing in there that I didn't already know. The main document of interest to me was the surgical notes, however they are written in scribbly doctor handwriting and barely decipherable. As far as I can tell, I've got a "v. floppy" something and my abdomen is "very vascular". Alrighty then.

The main point about getting these records was to go over them with my (independent) midwife the next time I'm pregnant. I figure that if she has all of this information she can a) help me make sense of what happened and b) can help me avoid this again next time. I'm worried about the lack of progress during my induction, particularly because one midwife uttered the dreaded "small pelvis" diagnosis at one point. So now I'm paranoid that Jack never went more than 2/5 engaged and I never dilated because I'm not built for birthin' babies. Yes, yes, I know. The truth probably is that nothing happened because Jack simply wasn't ready to be born yet. Doesn't stop me from being paranoid, though.

I read today that if you don't go into labour, your milk production may not kick in quite as well. Thanks for telling me this NOW. *mutter grumble*

only six?

Jeni tagged me on this one. Feel free to participate on your blog if you're so inclined. If you don't have a blog, why not bring this up in conversation with a workmate or loved one? If you're unemployed/work from home and have no loved ones, perhaps you could strike up a chat with a stranger on your next outing. People love that sort of thing.

Right so, six weird things about me:

• I like plastic cheese and have a slice on my bagel almost every morning. There is nothing finer in a grilled cheese sandwich.
  
• I have eleven active email addresses. I regularly use five of them.
  
• I can't drink plain milk, warm or cold.
  
• I can't sleep in the nude. I think this may be too much information.
  
• Whenever I get into a lift/elevator, I'm always secretly relieved when the doors open. I have a fear of dropping lifts, particularly when I'm in one.
  
• I've never had a cavity. In my teeth, that is.

my son is a rooster

Every morning, whether it's a weekday or the weekend, Jack wakes up at around 6:00 in the morning. As Dougal from "Father Ted" once said, "I've never seen a clock at 6 a.m. before!" I am not a morning person and no child that has my genes should be either. He used to wake up cheerfully, making happy little baby sounds that melted my heart. Now, he makes a *cough cough cough* spluttering noise that always precedes the screeching that doesn't end until someone releases him from the confines of his cot. It's a very effective alarm clock, I'll give it that. The trade-off is that we have a child who sleeps through the night, but we've got to get to bed early if we want a decent stretch of sleep. I think that I would opt for early mornings over interrupted nights, as memories of waking and feeding every two hours still linger in my mind.

In other "look what my genius son can do" news: Jack says "uh oh" whenever he drops something, nods his head when I ask if he's "all finished?" at the end of meals, points and says "dat?" when he wants to know what something is, enjoys dancing to the ER theme song and (sadly) the Sheila's Wheels advert, uses cutlery very well (but much prefers the mouth stuffing with both hands method), and is now drinking from a Big Boy Cup. Tommy Tippee do beakers with a lid and hole (sort of like the cups you get from fast food joints with a hole for a straw), which has been really great for teaching him how to drink from a cup. I often end up with a very wet child, but I'm sure he'll get the hang of it.

how does your garden grow?

I have a habit of embarking on ventures that I end up neglecting or it ends up going horribly wrong. Take my diet and exercise plan, for example. I went to the gym faithfully, kept calorie-rich foods away from my mouth, and even created an Excel spreadsheet with statistics on it for goodness sake. I haven't been to the gym since early December and I managed to polish off the rest of an obscenely rich chocolate cheesecake recently. I'm pretty sure that's a no-no on the GI Diet. So all of this to say, I've decided to grow vegetables this year and I'm really excited about it. You can see where I'm going with this.

I've managed to kill the unkillable plants like mint (twice) and rosemary. I bought three different plants for our front door that were supposed to thrive in full sunlight, and all of them turned into shrivelled brown twigs within weeks. Apparently they needed regular watering or something, the demanding things. This time, I am determined not to let my little seedlings go to veggie heaven (until they are ready for our table, that is). I've bought books - and read them - and have my organic grow bags ready to go. I've diligently watered and tended to my young plants, keeping them safe and warm in the shed near a window until the end of this month. I've sought advice from my sage in-laws who are very good at growing things and keeping them alive. I'm terribly optimistic.

I'm attempting to grow tomatoes ("Gardener's Delight" and "Roma"), courgettes/zucchini, cucumbers, petit pois, potatoes, and garlic. I'm using an assortment of containers and large pots, and grow bags. I made the silly purchase of a globe artichoke plant before reading that they actually take 1 1/2 years to produce edible buds and don't like winters, and chillis which are supposed to be difficult to grow unless we get a very hot summer or I build a greenhouse. I might give strawberries a go in the summer, and it looks like my oregano and chives from last year survived a winter of total neglect. Even the rosemary is looking okay. Go me!

Here's hoping that by the end of the summer, I'm complaining about what the hell I'm going to do with 5lbs of tomatoes.

everyone's a critic

I debated about publicising this, because the person involved would very likely enjoy the attention. Still, it made me giggle like a loon and more importantly it represents an important milestone: my very first grumpy email! It is as follows:

From: "Somba Dih" sombadih@gmail.com
Subject: of water safety and craftiness

Just seen http://www.wittydomainname.com/index.html

Like so many blogs it is puerile.

You are so full of yourself.

Also that Kiwi Jack looks like an attention seeking idiot.

Regards

Somba

Well of course I'm full of myself - no one writes a blog because they think they have nothing interesting to say. Kiwi Jack isn't an idiot; he simply enjoys hanging large metal objects from his earlobes. It's a fine, longstanding tradition in most countries.

I have to say, this is the most courteous grumpy mail I've ever seen. I rather like the "regards" at the end of the message. It warms my heart to know that this person's mother raised him right and he never forgets his manners. Oh dear Somba, thank you very much for taking the time to write to me. I have included your email address in this post so that people can get in touch with you, just in case you were feeling a bit lonely or perhaps were interested in signing up for numerous interesting email discussion groups.

lost light

Yesterday, a 10-month-old girl died after choking on some food at a nursery close to our office. My friend/workmate's daughter goes to this nursery, and was in the same room as this little girl. This is way too close to home.

I already experience enormous amounts of guilt about leaving Jack in the care of virtual strangers four days a week, and always felt tentative about entrusting his safety to girls who look no older than teenagers. When my friend got the call to pick up her daughter because there was "an incident" at the nursery, I wanted to get in the car and take Jack home. It's the complete lack of control that scares me the most; I simply have to trust that Jack is being taken care of properly while I'm at work. That's a lot to gamble on. On the other hand, things are not always in control even when I'm around. This morning, I turned around to find Jack leaning forward and holding on to both sides of the baby gate at the top of the stairs - which was wide open because I forgot to close it. My hands shook as I picked him up, and I cursed myself for being so incredibly stupid. Maybe sometimes he is actually safer in other people's care.

Last night, as I cradled Jack and sang to him before he fell asleep, I became too overwhelmed to continue. I could only stare at him and hold him tight, knowing that someone else would not be holding their baby that night.