So I noticed this first photo had been reblogged like 5,000 times with comments…I found this second one a few weeks ago…here it is again…side by side. I vote for number 2. Don’t hit your children.
If you think hitting your child makes them respect you or anyone, I think your mixing up respect with fear? X
So today I’m happy!
With the help of my lovely husband and some lovely family members we achieved some housework that had been bugging me, but that isn’t the main thing that made me happy…
Today we had a gorgeous BBQ with some more wonderful family members but that wasn’t the main reason for my happiness either…
I had a lie in, discovered a new scent I like (called “happy”!) and drank some fizzy pink wine but these are all, like peripheral moments of happiness which are orbiting my overall wow day!
You see today - I feel like I achieved being the mummy I want to be :) it’s only one day - and little bear was out for a few hours and man cub slept for a few hours but I feel like, towards my children at least I’ve been able to express “only love today” :)
I know this isn’t going to be the case too often so I’m not bragging here, I’m just embracing the fact that today the mummy guilt is low and the happiness levels are soaring! Yay for today - yay for friends - yay for family and yay to both my beautiful children who I’m falling more and more in love with
“Anytime the issue of public breastfeeding is discussed, there is always a man who makes the statement that if a woman is allowed to “whip out her breast” in public, he should be allowed to do the same thing with his dick.”
Recently, I’ve been learning a lot about myself and not all of it is pretty. I am suddenly aware of a lack of patience, Which ruins time spent with my precious family. I just read this amazing quote that said something like “the things that are urgent shouldn’t take over from the things that are important” I’m learning this lesson all too slowly.
Yesterday was a prime example, I lost my rag with little bear over and over, even man cub got whined at when he wanted feeding and I had other things to do. I am becoming a bossy uptight grumpy mama bear because I want things to be just right. I do understand the irony, is that irony? I think it is - in saying that! I am becoming a control freak - I am searching for order where none can exist and trying to do and achieve far more than possible and as a result I end up depressed and stressed and missing out on what’s important - in order to achieve what’s urgent “no Little Bear I can’t play with you I have to … ( insert pointless task here) …”
This morning I find myself gazing into man cub’s eyes as he drifts off to sleep - as if for the first time really. Most of the time I focus on the bit of snot in his nose or the dry skin on his head - I feel like I try to convince myself that constant corrections of imperfection is my role!! When it really really isn’t - I convince myself that what I’m doing in this situation and those when little bear is trying her hardest but I still offer corrective advice instead of praise, is mothering when actually it’s smothering…
Literally strangling the joy out of life!
It’s a slow process don’t get me wrong - these things that trouble me aren’t things I’m constantly doing wrong but I’m worried that without positive change right now - without intentional decisive change - this may become the norm in my house and I don’t want that - I want a home that is anchored in love. One in which we all learn and grow together and feel nurtured.
It’s a big ask but today I start out on a new mothering journey, next time you come over I’ll be trying not to cringe at the (eternal ) state of untidiness in my home. I’ll be trying to not let it override my joy at seeing you! I will be repeating the mantra that “hands free mama” (who I probably mid quoted earlier) has used for a long time - “only love today”. I will be trying to enjoy just existing in those little magical moments with my whole bear like clan and not panicking about when the next nappy change is due or the next feed etc.
next time you see me - I will still be me but maybe a very slowly changing and growing mama bear version of me because I’ve got to learn to love me too. I’ve got to get a grip on this “mummy guilt” - that tells me I’m not good enough, must try harder, must do better - because when I relax and stop judging myself against these perfect unattainable standards - magic happens -
Like yesterday - yesterday must have been easily the hottest day of the year - I decided that since we’d been at home for a few days I needed to get man cub and little bear out! So the first task I’d given myself was the weigh in clinic - sounds achievable - but it was still pretty stressful, getting anywhere on time with two under two always has been. I promised little bear that if she was good at the docs we could go to the park afterwards for some fun. Bribery - cue mummy guilt! - bad mummy!!! But in reality it was more a case of - if you’re not well behaved at the docs I won’t be able to cope with the park afterwards. Why was I putting that on her? I shouldn’t have even mentioned it but anyway - I digress - so little bear was perfectly well behaved - she often is! So off we went to the park in the sweltering heat - with a man cub who now needed to feed - not surprisingly, he was probably thirsty but I needed also to be helping LB on the slide and the swing and everything else - cue lots of stress for me trying to keep everyone happy all the time when in reality LB was pretty happy anyway! Ended up only giving mancub half a feed cos the kids were coming out of school to the park and I couldn’t cope with looking out for LB whilst feeding MC so I decided it was time to go home - bad mummy! Mummy guilt rules! But LB reluctantly but still as good as gold got in the car and had some of her iced drink and MC starts yelling cos he’s too hot and still hungry/thirsty - and this is where I lose it because I can’t for the life of me remember how to fold the bloody pram up to get it in the car! There are parents everywhere and I’m sure they’re watching as my two poor children who are roasting in the back of the car have a complete melt down whilst I do the same at the pram, which - whilst I did eventually fold I then couldn’t get the wheel off like I needed to - in order to get it in the boot - I did remember then that I could put the air con on for them atleast - bad mummy! That took forever to remember - all I wanted was to get my little bears home safe and sound - I was losing it. Eventually I approached some of the parents there, it turned out I knew one if them through work - she very kindly and calmly helped me squish the buggy into the car and off I went. As I was driving I started to cry - cue LB “no mama, no sad, mama - mummy - no sad” - BAD MUMMY - not only can’t you work a simple buggy but also you then make your little one sad too by crying :(
When we got home daddy bear said “whatever happens from now till I get home is ok - don’t try and do anything much” so I poured some clean warm water into little bear’s own washing up bowl and put it outside - I chilled out - I put man cub outside with no pants on and that’s when magic happened - see pic! Beautiful, simple pleasure, the house is a tip - we were all hot and sweaty and I was in a rubbish mood but all of a sudden all that mattered was splashing about with my beautiful little bear!
So I’m going to try hard not to try too hard any more. It’s time for a bit of grace and a bit of magic :)
I keep seeing this picture and people being oh so impressed by it acting like Dubai’s Sheikhs are miracle workers or some shit. And all that skyline does is make me want to throw up. Do you understand how all of this was built?…and then there is the foreign underclass who built the city, and are trapped here. They are hidden in plain view. You see them everywhere, in dirt-caked blue uniforms, being shouted at by their superiors, like a chain gang – but you are trained not to look. It is like a mantra: the Sheikh built the city. The Sheikh built the city. Workers? What workers?Sahinal Monir, a slim 24-year-old from the deltas of Bangladesh. “To get you here, they tell you Dubai is heaven. Then you get here and realise it is hell,” he says. Four years ago, an employment agent arrived in Sahinal’s village in Southern Bangladesh. He told the men of the village that there was a place where they could earn 40,000 takka a month (£400) just for working nine-to-five on construction projects. It was a place where they would be given great accommodation, great food, and treated well. All they had to do was pay an up-front fee of 220,000 takka (£2,300) for the work visa – a fee they’d pay off in the first six months, easy. So Sahinal sold his family land, and took out a loan from the local lender, to head to this paradise.As soon as he arrived at Dubai airport, his passport was taken from him by his construction company. He has not seen it since. He was told brusquely that from now on he would be working 14-hour days in the desert heat – where western tourists are advised not to stay outside for even five minutes in summer, when it hits 55 degrees – for 500 dirhams a month (£90), less than a quarter of the wage he was promised. If you don’t like it, the company told him, go home. “But how can I go home? You have my passport, and I have no money for the ticket,” he said. “Well, then you’d better get to work,” they replied.
He shows me his room. It is a tiny, poky, concrete cell with triple-decker bunk-beds, where he lives with 11 other men. All his belongings are piled onto his bunk: three shirts, a spare pair of trousers, and a cellphone. The room stinks, because the lavatories in the corner of the camp – holes in the ground – are backed up with excrement and clouds of black flies. There is no air conditioning or fans, so the heat is “unbearable. You cannot sleep. All you do is sweat and scratch all night.” At the height of summer, people sleep on the floor, on the roof, anywhere where they can pray for a moment of breeze.
"There’s a huge number of suicides in the camps and on the construction sites, but they’re not reported. They’re described as ‘accidents’." Even then, their families aren’t free: they simply inherit the debts. A Human Rights Watch study found there is a “cover-up of the true extent” of deaths from heat exhaustion, overwork and suicide, but the Indian consulate registered 971 deaths of their nationals in 2005 alone. After this figure was leaked, the consulates were told to stop counting.
On the left we have the lyrics from Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines. On the right we rape survivors participating in Project Unbreakable, showing the various things that were said to them by their rapist.
for people who are like “but it’s just a song…”
this is by far the most powerful photoset i’ve seen on this website with regards to blurred lines
THIS THIS AND A THOUSAND TIMES THIS.