Coffee and Cheese

I'm not sure which blog this ought to go on!

We went to Sheffield yesterday, where my friends still firmly refer to Miranda as "the Cheese", or at least, Cheeeeeeeeeeeeeezey!!! For nine months I was thinking about nothing else except the Cheese, setting up this blog, writing letters addressed to Dear Tiny Cheese, even trying to scab freebies from the Babybel company. But now she is actually here, it is very very hard for me to think of her as anything but Miranda.

She is very much her own person now, determined to stand up, very alert and wanting to know exactly what is going on all the time. So determined was she to take as much in during our day out that she refused to sleep at all during the day, and got so tired she started going cross-eyed on the way home! She also has developed a liking of being upside down, hanging off my knee eyeballing the world, and drooling at everything (methinks there is a Tooth brewing in there and making her a bit uncomfy, poor baby.) Definitely my little Miranda, but not just a Baby-Bel any more.

We were in Sheffield to taste coffee. With the help of Simon at Pollards coffee company, I managed to get a unique blend of coffee together for our new coffee shop. I am going to call it Miranda's Blend. I would love to make it a Family Mission to take Miri to all the coffee-producing countries whose beans are included in the blend! I couldn't actually take her in to see it being roasted unfortunately, but she did get to stare at a lot of shiny espresso machines, shout at Simon when we dared to start talking to each other instead of giving her undivided attention, and I gave her some latte foam to try - I think she approved. That experience, along with riding on a train, a tram and in the back of Simon's car, and then being cooed over by Anna, Viv, Ol and Zara at uni made for a very exciting day for her! I was pretty exhausted too...

Coffee shop plans are slowly getting there. We found a new venue, and although very busy and frequently unwilling to answer his phone, the estate agent does at least return our calls, eventually. The unit is a good size, is in a great location, and is fairly affordable. There are several ready-made customer bases we can tap into, hopefully, including the local breastfeeding groups and mother-and-toddler groups, which I want to encourage so Miranda gets some company in there. We just have to negotiate the length of the lease. We should be in a strong position at the moment; the economy is such that there are very few others mad enough to try and start a business in Darlington at the moment, so we are not competing against anyone for the lease!

However, the agency's standard is a three or five year lease. For the same reasons I touched on in the last post, this is a very daunting prospect. That is an awfully long time to sign up for, especially from Miranda's point of view. She is going to change so, so much in three years that I don't feel capable of making decisions over that length of time. I especially don't want to be tied to Darlington by the time Miri reaches school-going age. Is it even practical to try and bring her up in a coffee shop? Will I end up neglecting her? Can I really juggle her, the cafe and the phd at the same time? aaaaaaaaaaargh. I just want her to grow up Happy.

I also have an uncomfortable feeling that if I carry on like this, she is going to turn out to be a tea-drinker. Bah.

With Auntie Tattoo-Jo in the unit we really really want!

And sporting a very sophisticated Peruvian (coffeeland!) poncho.

Decisions, Decisions....

Help. Brainache.
I hate making decisions like this at the best of times, but now Miranda is here, my decisions carry more weight than usual, because whatever I decide affects her as well. I want more than anything to do the best I can for her, but sometimes I am not sure what that is.

This isn't really a Miranda-blog post (she is doing great, growing incessantly, eating tons and filling her nappy at inopportune moments and then looking very proud of herself!) This is more about my own insecurities! My issue at the moment is What Happens Post-PhD. I am supposed to go back to it after maternity leave in January, and get it finished by April. But of course, as soon as I finish it, my funding dries up. It's a daft situation that gives no incentive to finish the thesis at all...The end of uni means suddenly losing a very large proportion of our joint income, and Carl cannot support all three of us.

The most logical thing for me to do would be to pursue a career in academia, although at 27 with only a years' experience in a graduate job to my name, I think I am past the point at which I can use the word "career" with any degree of plausibility. I've applied for four academic jobs now, lectureships in Sheffield and York, and the average salary for that sort of job would mean that I could happily support us all, so Carl could give work and spend time with Miri. He would revel in that, I think. It would also have other benefits like moving house and getting out of Darlington finally. However, I did not even get shortlisted for any of those jobs, and one had NINETY TWO applicants. It is utterly hopeless, especially since there are so, so few of them in the first place.

Unless Carl miraculously finds a better job; we can't afford for me not to work. The very last thing I want is to have to find a job that I don't want to do, just to pay the bills, especially when that would also mean a huge chunk of my wages would go towards childcare for Miranda. It is counter-productive and not something I want to consider at all. She's too young!

My coffee van isn't the answer either. I at best make pocket money off it at the moment, just doing the markets. Even if I tried to do more with it, the bigger Miranda gets, the more impractical it would be. I can't entertain her or pay her much attention when I'm serving coffee at the same time and she'd hate sitting in the van all day on her own, it wouldn't be fair on her. And I couldn't inflict winter market stalls in the snow on her either.

So, I did come up with another option, which is, running my own business and finally setting up the cafe I've been on about for years. Unfortunately this has to be in Darlington which I know is not the best place. However, the one thing that I do love about this place is my wonderful collection of completely batty friends. Two of them are coming on board with this project as well. We are planning on sharing the rent on a retail unit, and opening as a cafe and writers' workshop by day and studio for Burlesque classes by night. It's called Afternoon Tease. I am completely in love with the idea, not least because it is an opportunity to do what I love, but also gives me the freedom to take Miranda along with me, thus avoiding having to pay to abandon her with strangers.

But it is not as simple as that. Due to the disinterest of the landlord, we haven't managed to get in to the unit we wanted, which is more than a little frustrating especially since there isn't actually any real reason other than this guy's slowness. Plans for getting round this hurdle have included Body Parts Squashed In New Pannini Machine, and so on. On a more practical level, we looked round another unit today. It would do us very nicely and has a lot of advantages, but it is three times the price and involves signing a terrifyingly long lease agreement.

I am worried about this. I have got some much riding on this, because the cafe idea honestly feels like my only option. But then, is it a good idea to try and bring Miranda up in a coffee shop? Would I end up neglecting her? Shouldn't I be revelling in New Motherhood and not worrying about working again given that she's only three months old? I just don't know. And then there are the financial worries. The long lease means agreeing to pay a very high rent for a very long time, and I lack the confidence to trust in the fact that a coffee shop could make a lot of money relatively quickly. Without Miri, I am sure I wouldn' be worrying about this anything like as mucb. I do still have an income that can buffer the worse of the financial hardship we are likely to encounter, and I won't need to actually make a living off this for quite a while yet. But I don't want to get tied down into something I can't afford for so long.

I don't know what to dooooooooo!!!

Granny, Mummy and Miri outside what could be the Afternoon Tease coffee shop.

Getting a bit ahead of ourselves...

Ah, maternity leave... time to relax, rest, play with adorable new daughter... I even get time to read the paper for a change!

yeah, right.

I have been reading the paper, but only because we've been on Miranda's tour of her extended family for the past week, ending up at my parents' house where Granny fussed over our Cheeseling so obsessively that I was barely allowed to hold her all week. So I actually had both hands free for the paper.

I am sure there are numerous articles like this, especially in the Guardian or the Independent, but this one caught my eye:
The nursery that teaches its pupils to boldly go - Education News, Education - The Independent

Like, OH MY GOD, a nursery school that lets kids make mudpies and play with snails in a garden? Quelle horreur! How maverick! Little Tarquin might even get dirty! Whatever next? Children cycling to school by themselves? Shock! Horror! Report those parents immediately!
Ahem.
Does beg the question, if a nursery that allows children to play outdoors is so shocking it warrants an article in a national newspaper, what the hell actually happens in a "normal" nursery?
I admit naivety here, I have no idea what modern nurseries are like. I hear good things about Surestart and so on, but I don't know what kids actually get to do in those environments. I remember going to "playschool" around aged 3 or 4. I went to one in Tenterden for a while up until I complained about having to stand behind desks in order to sing hymns. Mum didn't realise how religious the place was and I was soon removed. By the time my brother reached playschool age, Mum was running her own playgroup which involved making jelly, (that being all I remember).

I am hoping Miri will not have to go to nursery. I hate the idea of putting her in childcare or nursery too young, I just don't think it's right for baby or for Mummy. And hopefully by the time she is 3 or 4, it would be nice to be living in another country where kids are still encouraged to play and be kids - and not have to start school at four and a half.  However, at the moment, we can't afford for me not to work; I don't have the liberty to be a stay-at-home Mum after my maternity leave runs out, and after I finish uni, Miranda will be 9 months old and I will have to find a job. This is extremely depressing. Especially when further on in the same newspaper, there is this:
Nearly 70 graduates for every job vacancy - Education News, Education - The Independent

So, feeling quite hopeless and depressed about it all now!

Elah

We are slowly learning to speak Miri-language, that is, recognising her different cries. The noise that sounds like an indignant duck being sat on, for instance, roughly translates as "I am seriously pissed off now!" There is also the rhythmic, monotone and repetitive "A-yaar", which means "Give me attention!" or more often, "Why am I in this chair when you are doing something interesting?" The first word we learnt however, the one repeated most often is "Elah".

Elah means FOOD, or more precisely, Boob. At just under 3 weeks old, Miranda is having a growth spurt. She has put on nearly half a kilo in a week, and I swear her feet have got even bigger. This all means that she is eating constantly at the moment, demanding food every hour when she is awake, and disrupting our nights even more than "usual". (nothing as yet is usual or normal!). It is completely exhausting!

I am breastfeeding exclusively at the moment, which has earned whole-hearted approval from the midwife. It wasn't really a conscious decision as Miranda  found the milk bar and latched on within an hour of being born! However, I have no problem with this really. In purely practical terms, it is easier than faffing around with bottles and powder and mixing formula at 3am, I know it is all she needs, and I am never going to run out. And why pay for something when you can get it free?

It hurt like hell to begin with though. Rachel helpfully advised me: "It's fine once the first layer of skin has come off!". Seems to be true actually, it as actually a lot easier now than it was. Nevertheless, as if the episiotomy wasn't bad enough, getting blisters on your nipples is quite high up my list of Things You Should Never Have To Endure. Miranda's suction power is astonishing for one so small! At the moment it is only sore for the first few sucks - and Miri has a habit of lunging at me from a distance. Unfortunately that few seconds of intense pain is enough to render me wide awake meaning it is impossible to sleep through middle-of-the-night feeds. Also, she needs extra fluids at the moment because of the hot weather, so coupled with the growth spurt, she is feeding little but often and my nipples never get the chance to recover!

The hormones associated with breastfeeding are highly weird too. It is very bonding, which I suppose is a survival technique from baby's point of view as Mums wouldn't put up with it otherwise! Carl actually gets a bit jealous so I've started expressing milk so he can have a go at bottlefeeding her. It took a few days for the amount of milk to settle down though, and at first my boobs just swelled up enormously to the point of looking fake and cartoonish, and then promptly leaked everywhere. They have settled now though, leaving me having to panic-buy nursing bras in a ridiculous size 36J!

Sometimes I am quite proud of being able to breastfeed, I do love the time with her and it makes me feel 'capable' somehow, especially since parenthood is so new and there are so many things we need to learn and get used to. I don't have a problem with feeding Miri in public either, most of the time, and I've not had any discouraging comments yet either, not that I should nowadays anyway. I am sure our local pub has seen plenty of women get their boobs out in it in far less respectable circumstances.

At other times, however, I get frustrated with it all. I don't like just being The Milk Bar. Whenever I hold her, she smells food and immediately demands some. This means I don't get cuddles in the way Carl does, I can't just sit and talk to her or play with her like he can because she just hunts for Elah. More annoyingly I can't settle her to sleep in the middle of the night because the food supply is so distracting. When I am really tired, I feel completely useless; sometimes she has actually drained me dry, I can't give her what she really wants, and I can't cuddle her and calm her down either. Aaargh!

I do know this will pass and when she is older I will get to be Mummy properly rather than just Provider of Sustinance. I also know that it is not always going to hurt - though I am dreading when she gets teeth. The benefits of Elah outweigh its annoyances, so I will persevere. And I do love the newfound enormity. To Boobs! *chinks glass*

False Alarms

It's all kicking off!!

Or maybe it isn't.

I don't know!!

This is maddening.
I was woken up at 4am (a recurring theme at the moment) yesterday by EXTREME PAIN. Everything ached, I could barely move but whichever way I lay, I couldn't get comfy. Not nice. More worryingly, even though I did finally get back to sleep, the pain was still there when I eventually heaved myself out of bed. My whole bump had gone tense and rock hard, and I also couldn't feel Little Cheese moving about much. Usually she starts moving about to say byebye to Dad when Carl heads off to work in the mornings. Altogether, I got Worried. I rang the midwife, and she said she couldn't do anything without seeing me, so I had to head off to hospital since there was no one else free down at the clinic. After an enormous wait, I got prodded about a bit, and then had a CTG - erm, cardiotocograph monitoring. Basically hooked up the Very Important Machine That Goes BING! that measures mine and the baby's heart beats. Cheese's heartbeat was good - strong and pretty steady at about 150bmp. All perfectly healthy.
Turns out, the pain and aches appear to be because Cheese has now "engaged" - her head was burying into the birth canal, which causes a lot of pressure on delicate bits. Tensing up is not uncommon either, especially since this is my first and I haven't really been stretched like this before! (and obviously I had such strong muscly abs to start with. Ahem.) Finally, and most reassuringly, it was only because I was so tense that I couldn't feel her moving.
This morning I felt a lot better, not so tense, but as soon as I got up I suddenly felt sick and had to go throw up in the loo. Lovely. I also got a 'show' - which is a.) disgusting b) not a good idea to explain on a public blog and c) has Scary Significance. The midwife told me to come back into hospital this morning for the same thing again - another CTG, so I toddled off, still aching but nothing like as bad as yesterday. Cheese was far more awake today, I could feel her moving, and her heart rate made a much more wiggly line this time. All fine, anyway. I am just being paranoid.
The fact that I had a show, however, is far more scary/exciting because it can imply that Cheese Is Imminent, especially when she's already engaged and I am aching. The hospital confirmed this, saying I should feel free to come back as soon as something dramatic happened. It could now be DAYS, not weeks away.  EEEEEEK!!! I don't know, I really don't. I was honestly assuming she'd be late. I'll be 37 weeks at the weekend, so it doesn't even count as premature now. I toddled off to see the Chapmen by the seaside this afternoon, despite hospital trip  and nothing remotely exciting happened. I am feeling better - which is good - but I am not feeling anything out of the ordinary now. She's having a lie-in!

In case she does make an early appearence, thanks to wonderfully talented friends and family, we finally have the Cheese Room finished and fully furnished. It's AWESOME!!

The Sheffield Tram-Cot designed and built by my DIY-ing Dad. We love it!

 The Tram Map Blanket as embroidered by Mum (Halfway to Meadowhell?)

The truly amazing quilt designed and handstitched by the fabulous Julie

Mum has also knitted a mini Vampire cape and outfit (including tiny Cowboy boots just like mine!) for Cheese's First Whitby Goth Weekend in October

Suddenly the whole room seems so much smaller!!

Now of course, I am even more impatient than ever!!! More soon - I hope!

Juggling

I am exhausted. It's so frustrating!! I can't seem to do half the things I need to do, and when I force myself, things I used to do all the time just a few months ago now completely wipe me out.

Sleeping is hard; this weekend I achieved the impossible - I was apparently too tired to sleep. This predicament is not helped by a certain little Cheese being nocturnal. She seems to wake up late evening, and keeps booting me until I go to bed, and then starts trying to turn somersaults. I've been regularly waking at 6am which seems to be when she has jumped on my bladder sufficiently to warrant a bleary eyed bathroom trip. According to the midwife, she is now head-down, ready and waiting, but not actually "engaged" yet. This means that I have her giant feet just under my rib cage, with hands free to punch various vital internal organs, and she can still pivot vertically. I can actually see her moving about inside, my stomach ripples, and if I squeeze in the right place, I can occasionally feel distinct foot shapes in there. This morning, I was woken at 5.10am when she got a rather violent attack of hiccups...

I keep looking enviously at other people's 4d scans, the new ones where you can see the baby in 3D (the video makes it 4D when you see her move in real time, I guess.) There is no way we could afford one, and we've only got a few more weeks to meet her in the flesh anyway, and there is no actually reason to check what is going on in there other than curiousity and impatience. I nearly did end up with another normal scan though - last time I went to the midwife, she said I was still unusually small-bumped. It's true, depending on what I wear I can still hide the fact I am pregnant altogether, let alone nearly 8 months along. Midwife was concerned that Cheeseling might be pretty small and not growing as quick as she should, but she measured me vertically, and apparently my uterus was 33cm high - bang on for 33 weeks. It is just because I am naturally tall and pear-shaped! Nothing to worry about! Not that I want anything to be wrong, but another glimpse of her on a scan would have been lovely.

As uncomfortable as I feel at the moment, I actually think I am going to miss having her wriggling around in there. I first felt her move not long after Christmas and it's been pretty much constant ever since, which is a long time to get used to her presence. It's not going to feel right, having an immobile, empty belly again. I am incredibly excited and impatient about The Big Day, but the thought occurs that I shouldn't be wishing this time away...

Maternity leave starts at the end of the month. Now this I really am looking forward to!! As always, I am juggling several things at once - I was supposed to have got a draft together of my entire thesis before I go on my leave, because as my supervisors rightly point out, I am highly likely to forget what I was on about when I get back to it in January. Well, with three weeks to go, I am still lacking any conclusions (which is acceptable, according to the Powers That Be) and no proper methodology chapter, only very vague notes. But everything else is done. However, I also have to write a presentation for some seminar by this time next week. I also need to chase up the last of my interviewees who not only appear highly reluctant to talk to me, but are also down in London and not easily harrassed. Oh, and then I've got to write another paper for a workshop which I can't actually attend in person, it being in early July.... aaaaargh.

And then I have my coffee van to run. I am have been "lazy" with this recently, mainly because I actually can't physically stand on a market stall all day making coffee without an incredible amount of aches and pains. Cheese is too heavy! We took the van to a charity event last weekend, did extremely well but the whole thing rendered me incapable of functioning as a human being for quite a while afterwards. I've also won a competition about the markets and people are demanding I write biographies of the business for press releases and, more significantly, want me to sort out when I want to trade for free... which may well have to be in several months time.... and thus follows more general aaarghs.
Other worries and side projects include trying to move house, what on earth I am going to do for a job post uni, money worries, driving lessons, yadayadayada....

I tend to get too involved in other things as well; most recently, politics, but also emotional complications with my friends, people I care about are having some pretty tough times at the moment. But one says:

"Ignore me. You have the Cheese to worry about it. Cheese has to be number one priority."

He's right, I know. But I also find him, and others, very difficult to ignore, and I feel terrible about trying to. In truth, I don't know how to stop juggling all of the above any more. There is very little that I can, none of those commitments are suddenly going to cease to exist just because our little one suddenly pops out. Six months maternity leave with nothing to do except Look After Cheese sounds unimaginable at the moment. I don't know what I am going to do with myself! And other than collapsing in front of crap on TV occasionally and moaning a lot, I don't know how to make Cheeseling my priority. I can't hurry her along, and I don't know what to do to make her more comfy for the last few weeks! Any recommendations?