tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38272155929376368432024-03-22T01:48:43.103+00:00The Daily British Life of Jenny MacCherishing Love,
Loving Life,
Living the Dream...Toujour.Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.comBlogger191125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-32361141228901194752022-08-08T13:43:00.004+01:002022-08-08T13:57:05.781+01:00Nana's Visit to the UKIts been 2 years since my mom had the opportunity to see Henry (thanks Covid) since he was born. Hes definitely grown up and become a little tiddle toddler. <div><br /></div><div>The last few months we've been living day to day life, but just with a Nana in the picture, although we did manage to get out and have little mini adventures to make the most of her time here. </div><div><br /></div><div>There was only a period of like 2-3 weeks where we caught covid and had to isolate. First I got it, then mama, and we couldn't have Mush for a full 2 weeks! That was probably the toughest part of the visit--not having Henry around. Luckily, through us getting it, and then his dad, Granny and uncle Tony getting it...it seemed like the little man came off unscathed. </div><div><br /></div><div>After the covid period of things, we were able to go have fun while Nana was here. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We went to the Beach ⛱️ </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0hmgEWXIPT1ohgnbwOxJjWCwvrmpftnTKuX7Bc0Lt6PRk-gftPa6Tv0B81y_cqurRUPwIuTXzE_PLQ_nFuAN6-vfCooA5attRRxPmsD0ozibBdP-DKeyKx2TLY3JiTJ9f8plNMxhJODH2EDKlJMXhmw37vUN1VMM-gYgrwCpwXrRaTgucYzALmAOOrg/s4032/20220617_114811.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0hmgEWXIPT1ohgnbwOxJjWCwvrmpftnTKuX7Bc0Lt6PRk-gftPa6Tv0B81y_cqurRUPwIuTXzE_PLQ_nFuAN6-vfCooA5attRRxPmsD0ozibBdP-DKeyKx2TLY3JiTJ9f8plNMxhJODH2EDKlJMXhmw37vUN1VMM-gYgrwCpwXrRaTgucYzALmAOOrg/w225-h400/20220617_114811.jpg" width="225" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdiGFTTvWFXpGu8yPT-6po2_m3-hyK85avpP8-5DbTGwG5M0CKC9tHA4Os5-g6M-h4RrUugeWGp5_6lOev6T4druH-2xVekYmTXFekl-_7BGY71Jtv9e-lYB9N_AZESLZ84k8Sr0aYq9gEQi1ZbjoIOWA1E0EfQbzM1xPMp3uypK-7uhNAlrNuJJBmmg/s3648/20220617_131133.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="2736" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdiGFTTvWFXpGu8yPT-6po2_m3-hyK85avpP8-5DbTGwG5M0CKC9tHA4Os5-g6M-h4RrUugeWGp5_6lOev6T4druH-2xVekYmTXFekl-_7BGY71Jtv9e-lYB9N_AZESLZ84k8Sr0aYq9gEQi1ZbjoIOWA1E0EfQbzM1xPMp3uypK-7uhNAlrNuJJBmmg/w300-h400/20220617_131133.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div>First time at the beach went swimmingly well! Henry liked to hang out in the tide pools (just like mama) and look at all the sea creatures and the flow of the water. He was less impressed with the actual ocean. In fact, he was scared that mama even went into the ocean for a little dip. Something to work up to.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLh4T82J98zgl1UJbHMvDglgZfKta1OHwE7mCBNKam3FqOd-7XU8KOsOVHb87XSI0oxGF3vdqJp52mKhK3tT61NrNGquHOuD6cYszsM4gdApR0qSNH0Dl3meGJo25DlqSpAQZ9t5VIH2sEn1JjJMwBbKxJxosw4u6e-ZJT1an9hCsFr827B_FBCZ5TJQ/s4032/20220617_134409.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLh4T82J98zgl1UJbHMvDglgZfKta1OHwE7mCBNKam3FqOd-7XU8KOsOVHb87XSI0oxGF3vdqJp52mKhK3tT61NrNGquHOuD6cYszsM4gdApR0qSNH0Dl3meGJo25DlqSpAQZ9t5VIH2sEn1JjJMwBbKxJxosw4u6e-ZJT1an9hCsFr827B_FBCZ5TJQ/w360-h640/20220617_134409.jpg" width="360" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-7VmjD2BOvBflz8dlnP1RstAD6L_pPFl8hJW_8rUOktPuEjIDI4ljcXMwwXsvmjYDkTPF_rprvJvZih3eXB810lRKiHlnrznChsivvNF4pa8GTqB1kS6GTijwToVxfLwpAyl0oBnfGGTHLIvle7BCSXYAwmWQNb5Aov19Q_34perQP6U4I0E2F8CyKg/s4032/20220617_143959.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-7VmjD2BOvBflz8dlnP1RstAD6L_pPFl8hJW_8rUOktPuEjIDI4ljcXMwwXsvmjYDkTPF_rprvJvZih3eXB810lRKiHlnrznChsivvNF4pa8GTqB1kS6GTijwToVxfLwpAyl0oBnfGGTHLIvle7BCSXYAwmWQNb5Aov19Q_34perQP6U4I0E2F8CyKg/w225-h400/20220617_143959.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>He did however love digging in the sand, splashing about in the tide pools, and of course....ice cream. The boy loves chocolate, but he won't say no to a Mr Whippy vanilla ice cream cone. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We also went to the Safari Park TWICE! Once with just the three of us (Nana, Mama, and Mush), and once with Auntie Lua and Uncle Simon. </div><div>🦁🦓🦒🐘</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCZcv2jIG5RawpwtJ1bjg1KfxMGTzexWd15RVvI-LADl7qZvyRZlU5dQ7lUZ4Y-NfKgX-CIcUr2rgT-T9ASm4mJSPIeFGdJa_TGlbjX5PPLjnWzI0hIzieU-batJlME0doqD9RGYpCHmjjfVKE3zWaX_0c9YDFFLnC2ld7bcMcDxGdVvHKeZUnc5N6g/s4032/20220709_100729.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCZcv2jIG5RawpwtJ1bjg1KfxMGTzexWd15RVvI-LADl7qZvyRZlU5dQ7lUZ4Y-NfKgX-CIcUr2rgT-T9ASm4mJSPIeFGdJa_TGlbjX5PPLjnWzI0hIzieU-batJlME0doqD9RGYpCHmjjfVKE3zWaX_0c9YDFFLnC2ld7bcMcDxGdVvHKeZUnc5N6g/w360-h640/20220709_100729.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_NNjW76rEMMh2mrgadvGsGbmucE0mh7jBcoAMG-FNlOp0-RER6uHA0e23QRGLLJD47jfHr6F4fq7davy2Hi-TZf0f-kYsaN9r-uTIA_uHlCgFhI3UkePpwOIQ7T-20jvqaUEySIWQTE3tf5IKVCkjc_l1qF55BLEJuNZnGEFA-JrBTDmNQ4yIJitCYg/s3648/20220709_100754.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="3648" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_NNjW76rEMMh2mrgadvGsGbmucE0mh7jBcoAMG-FNlOp0-RER6uHA0e23QRGLLJD47jfHr6F4fq7davy2Hi-TZf0f-kYsaN9r-uTIA_uHlCgFhI3UkePpwOIQ7T-20jvqaUEySIWQTE3tf5IKVCkjc_l1qF55BLEJuNZnGEFA-JrBTDmNQ4yIJitCYg/w400-h300/20220709_100754.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The first time we went was good when we got to the park, but since we did the drive through last Henry was asleep for most of the safari. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfcSDir0VFGWb_6DL7b3qTufOIN3ABjq10eV_q-rDTpUmeN9AQFy_ykfzlexce24Vn_Kfdn6eMx15zeKFF-vaELVB-BB0uUmId16U51ZYueZE1uAEaaTJVm9UuZ0CDFy9ZtbOCjQwy2PF_KTWsqXqCTiJq4NkdyP-RB85YnoHdjuBW8wKbXRFzZFP_cQ/s4032/20220514_161839%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfcSDir0VFGWb_6DL7b3qTufOIN3ABjq10eV_q-rDTpUmeN9AQFy_ykfzlexce24Vn_Kfdn6eMx15zeKFF-vaELVB-BB0uUmId16U51ZYueZE1uAEaaTJVm9UuZ0CDFy9ZtbOCjQwy2PF_KTWsqXqCTiJq4NkdyP-RB85YnoHdjuBW8wKbXRFzZFP_cQ/w640-h360/20220514_161839%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>The second time we went we made sure to do the drive through safari bit first. Henry was sat in the back seat with Simon and Lucie and loved looking at all the animals. However, he was ABSOLUTELY not keen on having the window rolled down and the animals getting too close. Even when I rolled my window down and the Antelopes and Zebras etc got too close to me, he was a bit scared of mama getting hurt. After a few minutes, he got used to the animals coming close to the car, but even towards the end, he didn't want HIS window down and the animals getting too close to HIM. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-F1C2MQTmreMi2-XtSCwMmzrcyKTJ1o-rzj1htb4OFoTANIys-jNyb5ahgXCgn8Wh-XzpoxA2fLyiWuFVxAyv4sGOKWLgzvYhLyUj4K9rxD5gduk-hmP4-W8p9GynMH5H1k4f9gHz9WPWP2Mj2IVUmjMgGUPDCMfxupmcEgV2UwkiQxYf8FvvbikU6g/s4032/20220514_161821%20(1).jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-F1C2MQTmreMi2-XtSCwMmzrcyKTJ1o-rzj1htb4OFoTANIys-jNyb5ahgXCgn8Wh-XzpoxA2fLyiWuFVxAyv4sGOKWLgzvYhLyUj4K9rxD5gduk-hmP4-W8p9GynMH5H1k4f9gHz9WPWP2Mj2IVUmjMgGUPDCMfxupmcEgV2UwkiQxYf8FvvbikU6g/w225-h400/20220514_161821%20(1).jpg" width="225" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNC8UbsRbV0dbeSNP0XCbQ3dpgZMw3L8GUErtIGJaq4deJXaSxN6jL5p23i2aB1Yu0sUC2MqQMxHAsu6WRo-D4DyzsCCWF13EYkCsRdvSnwytwJIt87XgscQ0hR1kZzB598V4uDtNA9iZw2BqnSbXDD_wC07qyL51hzvVZuMoqesIVV0yAIxsxKQ1Yqg/s4032/20220514_120109%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNC8UbsRbV0dbeSNP0XCbQ3dpgZMw3L8GUErtIGJaq4deJXaSxN6jL5p23i2aB1Yu0sUC2MqQMxHAsu6WRo-D4DyzsCCWF13EYkCsRdvSnwytwJIt87XgscQ0hR1kZzB598V4uDtNA9iZw2BqnSbXDD_wC07qyL51hzvVZuMoqesIVV0yAIxsxKQ1Yqg/w360-h640/20220514_120109%20(1).jpg" width="360" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmrnlwKeqDys4rUNp9mDcGOGqHJ3TfaQsZRpcd51NCFlES_dTlrjqgO1oJZMm-5l_zqXCMctAoIx6jGg69tfs88GpkIAc5Yakn17FyDaVYajqbA0PwoWv1binDtFGjNsl3XNc23XriGdU3nZiwCAiZv2goNLOhhCtpO-uDTKktQRNUBQz0EU_dyOegHQ/s4032/20220709_103359.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmrnlwKeqDys4rUNp9mDcGOGqHJ3TfaQsZRpcd51NCFlES_dTlrjqgO1oJZMm-5l_zqXCMctAoIx6jGg69tfs88GpkIAc5Yakn17FyDaVYajqbA0PwoWv1binDtFGjNsl3XNc23XriGdU3nZiwCAiZv2goNLOhhCtpO-uDTKktQRNUBQz0EU_dyOegHQ/w640-h360/20220709_103359.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Through the two visits we discovered that Henry LOVES the Lemurs, and feeding the Lorikeets. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgORLBUNsp0ILi3vyLEAAIEoo8nUN8jhk-jBDZufbjrWCW_YVdt_a_BXTOFlZUvDa1ehGfcSsCWHBppFAjATxkC_Zz1_5_Ap6DqJD0SKe0SLjFXxeB_1puWu39qe6xQLskf_RgO1n4EusfFumK60uWmGIQ0fNhyJcfceCaoO8HlRIcQSHH4zRDUFDvLUw/s4032/20220709_105142.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgORLBUNsp0ILi3vyLEAAIEoo8nUN8jhk-jBDZufbjrWCW_YVdt_a_BXTOFlZUvDa1ehGfcSsCWHBppFAjATxkC_Zz1_5_Ap6DqJD0SKe0SLjFXxeB_1puWu39qe6xQLskf_RgO1n4EusfFumK60uWmGIQ0fNhyJcfceCaoO8HlRIcQSHH4zRDUFDvLUw/w225-h400/20220709_105142.jpg" width="225" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD0Zlx_vWcOdGbekUBHAIsWOhJtL8zm0jK8T7H5IsaZ-3JREwtdbVeVfKDKkujPEYBbubWdvdc0IvFg3bHx8SPu5K40c5-UTfmwt8sIDkr3sm9Hpq8FyW2P4BmzhYLAnMygNiqL2JxzB-Vy11N8o0UgMfymqGZqmMhhvHYj6KIVaARVIIOyLZZRvidSw/s4032/20220709_142342.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD0Zlx_vWcOdGbekUBHAIsWOhJtL8zm0jK8T7H5IsaZ-3JREwtdbVeVfKDKkujPEYBbubWdvdc0IvFg3bHx8SPu5K40c5-UTfmwt8sIDkr3sm9Hpq8FyW2P4BmzhYLAnMygNiqL2JxzB-Vy11N8o0UgMfymqGZqmMhhvHYj6KIVaARVIIOyLZZRvidSw/w225-h400/20220709_142342.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Besides those few major excursions, we got out and about and had lots of fun in the sun, making the most of our 30-40°c weather! Parks, Cafes, Shopping, Walks, Puzzlewood, Blue Elephant Play Cafe, pool time in the garden, etc</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGEdcB1osF-0D-jWXxl5OjbtLGow_1FwwXcM7LNIENlk_5dL-CGQ4Jv1XXgmWcconcqgLUSrOrjLm2Hj7Zvu7iSXN7PNud4IEdosmemW11ageIc6q1CPJCASBhj1qiZooNtiyjlTOYGES8v4w43sGwvDL5rZrxbzqpq6wJznEAv2BWHF8whXAa4TxS7Q/s4032/20220709_114914.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGEdcB1osF-0D-jWXxl5OjbtLGow_1FwwXcM7LNIENlk_5dL-CGQ4Jv1XXgmWcconcqgLUSrOrjLm2Hj7Zvu7iSXN7PNud4IEdosmemW11ageIc6q1CPJCASBhj1qiZooNtiyjlTOYGES8v4w43sGwvDL5rZrxbzqpq6wJznEAv2BWHF8whXAa4TxS7Q/w640-h360/20220709_114914.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_IAr1kAMuJ79mSd4KsBfQ_bXQj9bqbo6dkvpptTY-ZsEDa47_OyyNsquBjLjtIVecB2GJyZvX9W-C9wKdwX_OAhDCqZ_BOwBgajUZnKrusgIIIYaud-HkqhItD7qqRuhUokXimA1S_DRy_9CIR9by3owy5y_gT6Dy5MKyPSmcE9aUoqHAyGq_ezHU_w/s4032/20220709_120857.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_IAr1kAMuJ79mSd4KsBfQ_bXQj9bqbo6dkvpptTY-ZsEDa47_OyyNsquBjLjtIVecB2GJyZvX9W-C9wKdwX_OAhDCqZ_BOwBgajUZnKrusgIIIYaud-HkqhItD7qqRuhUokXimA1S_DRy_9CIR9by3owy5y_gT6Dy5MKyPSmcE9aUoqHAyGq_ezHU_w/w360-h640/20220709_120857.jpg" width="360" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4UZ3kp8zDTzW7sk2eNJe0EoAAmjHs8ZGzBSPIjzlQaaEErY8VXhMRPVe37bZwjYFv611LgJw30N94rp3_TCjnuGWiXMubKUIVQqecn5kzLO8SGA2RLaI_k914kEHibOVfkMU_DjM3CS6HwZrdH1j3FP809fwABjd4gdg1L1CNl8H4X3-nI7q6MZlTSw/s3648/20220709_193940.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="2736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4UZ3kp8zDTzW7sk2eNJe0EoAAmjHs8ZGzBSPIjzlQaaEErY8VXhMRPVe37bZwjYFv611LgJw30N94rp3_TCjnuGWiXMubKUIVQqecn5kzLO8SGA2RLaI_k914kEHibOVfkMU_DjM3CS6HwZrdH1j3FP809fwABjd4gdg1L1CNl8H4X3-nI7q6MZlTSw/s320/20220709_193940.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl3Xe9sv3h73xlgFRDIyV7Df5vOTUJ-gG07tra2Uxax-_2vPEILbO4pjC4z44SEZcxZNKnQtJ28HCYOdtKWWeyb9t1YfGAp504IrGv3yCMcUlvkkLR3z0fv2d2XIiwldqURmAUACCRhklMi8h1uf0nDEUyLbnwqMs9AoajcbFNS8iB8tSqG3BaxUExaw/s4032/20220710_103950.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl3Xe9sv3h73xlgFRDIyV7Df5vOTUJ-gG07tra2Uxax-_2vPEILbO4pjC4z44SEZcxZNKnQtJ28HCYOdtKWWeyb9t1YfGAp504IrGv3yCMcUlvkkLR3z0fv2d2XIiwldqURmAUACCRhklMi8h1uf0nDEUyLbnwqMs9AoajcbFNS8iB8tSqG3BaxUExaw/w640-h360/20220710_103950.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYWBnmPZWOsIGxniFnpJmeY-UwFohtv2LwN5MoAFHzdnna1g9GAIGavvhvQkSn7Chc05dNDeWqvoTf05J3_ybRJhtqLpZh7wKjntvzsTB0CEbWwFDieiLmQJfjgayjw-X4FKujPnuK6DUuDcrjlU_prh88J6lB_xJtIIYWT_X3PtP6TMyjvnlajfaqHQ/s4032/20220710_153818.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYWBnmPZWOsIGxniFnpJmeY-UwFohtv2LwN5MoAFHzdnna1g9GAIGavvhvQkSn7Chc05dNDeWqvoTf05J3_ybRJhtqLpZh7wKjntvzsTB0CEbWwFDieiLmQJfjgayjw-X4FKujPnuK6DUuDcrjlU_prh88J6lB_xJtIIYWT_X3PtP6TMyjvnlajfaqHQ/s320/20220710_153818.jpg" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmeNXyrmHGz-uV4xPCfYYqtPaNpbjOVv59MIsJhYRMnnJatnsAVsq3J6YqIimCwfNrxagPKFsgK7blqE4ALy9l-L-clNvVC_com4RInmjU7KXSqfZIza4ZMhlMHl4szH9omQZy-fOmP_2mjw7M7mMTMsVlTnx3m8cWUU4dPYLszVK3hCY3ljYnVlsLOQ/s4032/20220710_160850.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmeNXyrmHGz-uV4xPCfYYqtPaNpbjOVv59MIsJhYRMnnJatnsAVsq3J6YqIimCwfNrxagPKFsgK7blqE4ALy9l-L-clNvVC_com4RInmjU7KXSqfZIza4ZMhlMHl4szH9omQZy-fOmP_2mjw7M7mMTMsVlTnx3m8cWUU4dPYLszVK3hCY3ljYnVlsLOQ/w225-h400/20220710_160850.jpg" width="225" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWDchwt-D5l8izlfMkp8It-oFMEPfQ1oYnSpPvWJaDDt2fxtmFOF7UJeoYIHo2dy3d-v37PZ1M4hFAAFJGuY4giEW5K2lxk1EI_Bm_USUnLJxkuPsiFZQCi_zvEPmWVPRjZ1jrSBPiLcnGlQ2FRjCHgD0ozN6CctolkW1V7wCZHaTiyVk5Y-JKTmHDQ/s4032/20220716_131850.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWDchwt-D5l8izlfMkp8It-oFMEPfQ1oYnSpPvWJaDDt2fxtmFOF7UJeoYIHo2dy3d-v37PZ1M4hFAAFJGuY4giEW5K2lxk1EI_Bm_USUnLJxkuPsiFZQCi_zvEPmWVPRjZ1jrSBPiLcnGlQ2FRjCHgD0ozN6CctolkW1V7wCZHaTiyVk5Y-JKTmHDQ/s320/20220716_131850.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When it got way too hot, after being in the pool during the 'cooler' hours of the days, Mush even decided that it was time to get in some hard work mowing the living room...butt naked. LOL </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMroeM-obCUDjGYwkFksHXD2CtWLb6sMdY8zL7ERQkRav93kGdxQjkWh0ZmWHTFuLBQIm3Usm4ZkTYiF9b0-yjAbPEaW_6ENBlJnVSWD-6ypRtWczCy7is-9TEno5uvG0qGfjeto6N3F6pa9UtZFpX-GiYmJkFlN72jQ2HO73wEoGVYsZyNEvq8Z43Q/s4032/20220716_102920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMroeM-obCUDjGYwkFksHXD2CtWLb6sMdY8zL7ERQkRav93kGdxQjkWh0ZmWHTFuLBQIm3Usm4ZkTYiF9b0-yjAbPEaW_6ENBlJnVSWD-6ypRtWczCy7is-9TEno5uvG0qGfjeto6N3F6pa9UtZFpX-GiYmJkFlN72jQ2HO73wEoGVYsZyNEvq8Z43Q/s320/20220716_102920.jpg" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLeBgxZJX7q7w9bsD3RuQvq5YEr4BrYOo7Pms9LWlD9Z0XpZQkof8pY60iVOXUCEerkJr6ERpbBt-zuNjtRh7jv3ebG4lqxwkUNy_VyQpwps_5CHOIT3jxP0OqYv6HT9BfzqEnqcG5ElDjvmavRb8JOdWBx1GZjNPXlnw9xqNv4KZLiIu1-Z9uuE2Ew/s4032/20220716_102921.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLeBgxZJX7q7w9bsD3RuQvq5YEr4BrYOo7Pms9LWlD9Z0XpZQkof8pY60iVOXUCEerkJr6ERpbBt-zuNjtRh7jv3ebG4lqxwkUNy_VyQpwps_5CHOIT3jxP0OqYv6HT9BfzqEnqcG5ElDjvmavRb8JOdWBx1GZjNPXlnw9xqNv4KZLiIu1-Z9uuE2Ew/s320/20220716_102921.jpg" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO_7eKGXxU-yoi6lJl7cejFMuLrHVjilkMPByVWFkZ7cJIyJmMlDPOBBhiIrr62JNrg2jTEF5XTzjiSB0nC644_hsE5Ff2GpmQgNI_JsEzcwYDYlIGxPJhrtDRvGc5qrKo__Ef83-2UJcYeX-vt0pSH67QVtjLbvdRWdlI75PwUB2QKb7XR6XLio4y8A/s4032/20220716_170841.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO_7eKGXxU-yoi6lJl7cejFMuLrHVjilkMPByVWFkZ7cJIyJmMlDPOBBhiIrr62JNrg2jTEF5XTzjiSB0nC644_hsE5Ff2GpmQgNI_JsEzcwYDYlIGxPJhrtDRvGc5qrKo__Ef83-2UJcYeX-vt0pSH67QVtjLbvdRWdlI75PwUB2QKb7XR6XLio4y8A/s320/20220716_170841.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Puzzlewood was another successful venture. I think he managed near enough 2 hours wandering through the forest trails before becoming too tired. Can't wait to go back there again. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOEemkfCrw0ziKcz6ufo6mU5nMGymsj1udHkXczTEzIR_VxKt0J-B1_oyHZZ5wVhR8bwmXdyUDz6hsl0Za291UrDth0n200yCpYepcnHK-z7sRkp5fCH54QSnI0D78s61LXpeosrfXDpB94wuSZKr345O5AfUJ1UFoA7nqYlSeIazprfOXG1HAG3vrhA/s4032/20220625_113834.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOEemkfCrw0ziKcz6ufo6mU5nMGymsj1udHkXczTEzIR_VxKt0J-B1_oyHZZ5wVhR8bwmXdyUDz6hsl0Za291UrDth0n200yCpYepcnHK-z7sRkp5fCH54QSnI0D78s61LXpeosrfXDpB94wuSZKr345O5AfUJ1UFoA7nqYlSeIazprfOXG1HAG3vrhA/w640-h360/20220625_113834.jpg" width="640" /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOEemkfCrw0ziKcz6ufo6mU5nMGymsj1udHkXczTEzIR_VxKt0J-B1_oyHZZ5wVhR8bwmXdyUDz6hsl0Za291UrDth0n200yCpYepcnHK-z7sRkp5fCH54QSnI0D78s61LXpeosrfXDpB94wuSZKr345O5AfUJ1UFoA7nqYlSeIazprfOXG1HAG3vrhA/s4032/20220625_113834.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfucKodguEkoRk6rkEJf6CS2dwyZZgrUicBjgPP656vp9FLMhgeAt3zlJY-3CqAz9VpCNY1bliOnC8VzZrweC7kxM1RYI0DXSJ6W017Y8YNua8LAkmMJ_AVroLJUJJGKgFtHs_aCrPhe_HNuxVmvm5Jf_BEdeeC0XFq2-GYuJpTE6uOizpo8vpWbPCg/s4032/20220625_122519.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfucKodguEkoRk6rkEJf6CS2dwyZZgrUicBjgPP656vp9FLMhgeAt3zlJY-3CqAz9VpCNY1bliOnC8VzZrweC7kxM1RYI0DXSJ6W017Y8YNua8LAkmMJ_AVroLJUJJGKgFtHs_aCrPhe_HNuxVmvm5Jf_BEdeeC0XFq2-GYuJpTE6uOizpo8vpWbPCg/w225-h400/20220625_122519.jpg" width="225" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ymoSDN0POYDyo9uLsC8cB8HO0WPFj-sidv1gb-Nl--8gaBKBCCxwiQYCfgQwp6beuuRg0NDkwqWELLy7TYHwbate5m-2R4D0LOqQowekl15gwh85tlweU-CrFLd2a-wejW8gF166OfwPqrpUKUgSWcoKsP82ulI_ryEnurI442Y-0VK2BqkN3SBh1g/s4032/20220625_113533.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ymoSDN0POYDyo9uLsC8cB8HO0WPFj-sidv1gb-Nl--8gaBKBCCxwiQYCfgQwp6beuuRg0NDkwqWELLy7TYHwbate5m-2R4D0LOqQowekl15gwh85tlweU-CrFLd2a-wejW8gF166OfwPqrpUKUgSWcoKsP82ulI_ryEnurI442Y-0VK2BqkN3SBh1g/w360-h640/20220625_113533.jpg" width="360" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There was some indoor play as well, since the weather got a bit too much for little ones. There was even a day that Henry had to come home early from Nursery because of the high temperature warning (fyi....most places do NOT have air conditioning in the UK so it was a bit dangerous having littles in a stuffy room during the hottest part of the day).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfu10v7yjGx_ItklV_WLCT3EvTbTgMnN7JfVv-FuuF349I-vm0wAA-eWdI_ltNaFq8TTgNgErIK2BGooAkld4fLJJR_P4ape3BTQaKnz0Gh7-MVTmosfubHuwAY1j_eMZUAAD-i3O8ge5wWMBMqcTGyDC4NcnGFQcd5ZYhFsIm9efapptxRmOFgE9zQ/s3648/20220723_112752.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="2736" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfu10v7yjGx_ItklV_WLCT3EvTbTgMnN7JfVv-FuuF349I-vm0wAA-eWdI_ltNaFq8TTgNgErIK2BGooAkld4fLJJR_P4ape3BTQaKnz0Gh7-MVTmosfubHuwAY1j_eMZUAAD-i3O8ge5wWMBMqcTGyDC4NcnGFQcd5ZYhFsIm9efapptxRmOFgE9zQ/w300-h400/20220723_112752.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhkH6eQNspi94GgSE5dlvnzd_Slggio7yYBV-HVG6GwLSXtn9zSPf16vS8_qWOqxhnk9i31pLfEQSCo2NN6ipcVFYUpwDfobkJscUjT3WgKDTP1cJmhbqZNgmoeuePGJ7vVgWcTdQHTsvadzRc-Xm3Sqe9XHXATzC5WbKUo9cpdnY0oAfQEuRI8WW6Q/s4032/20220723_105727.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhkH6eQNspi94GgSE5dlvnzd_Slggio7yYBV-HVG6GwLSXtn9zSPf16vS8_qWOqxhnk9i31pLfEQSCo2NN6ipcVFYUpwDfobkJscUjT3WgKDTP1cJmhbqZNgmoeuePGJ7vVgWcTdQHTsvadzRc-Xm3Sqe9XHXATzC5WbKUo9cpdnY0oAfQEuRI8WW6Q/w225-h400/20220723_105727.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Its was weird for my mom only having Henry half of the time (the joys of seperated parents and shared care arrangements), but she busied herself with crafts, and we went out together when we didnt have Henry. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1GoTMLwbSeY5PQLgsEU6L-yBCfHcNNOGE9ryOm7WBW-izMoJb6WrK4-QF2-8QFDbbDzgYc3j2m7fj4kLeQPpsE6ConOk3NkJs6J83MxxhzEGSZBZrOU_u8wGQA8eZKvNYHYUW7UtM2yGSoTr2Mhe-auoZkmoMEooWR0vjXZziCTdcdbrSszu8ZrKPQ/s4032/20220614_144652.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1GoTMLwbSeY5PQLgsEU6L-yBCfHcNNOGE9ryOm7WBW-izMoJb6WrK4-QF2-8QFDbbDzgYc3j2m7fj4kLeQPpsE6ConOk3NkJs6J83MxxhzEGSZBZrOU_u8wGQA8eZKvNYHYUW7UtM2yGSoTr2Mhe-auoZkmoMEooWR0vjXZziCTdcdbrSszu8ZrKPQ/w360-h640/20220614_144652.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A few nights we went out to the Cinema, we went out to eat, and had a few days of shopping and touring around little English towns. I introduced her to Axe throwing, and we had an all around good time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8HGzrJxVP89QkNuoYs89A-4vzbXFhfP73-kPL4xPfKUWYon0zo7v-bOhn35e0ss1gTMXQDjkcxI1czc_tVk4dAL9_Y2x7mA2jcS2fY8UGRUdwsxixfaBKmC-khd5mfgxWoecjAX9BrL37m5XOxmXc1ySr2MPqpRtXr6ssltrzrjdigYm2AEQRXaNtmg/s4032/20220728_203808.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8HGzrJxVP89QkNuoYs89A-4vzbXFhfP73-kPL4xPfKUWYon0zo7v-bOhn35e0ss1gTMXQDjkcxI1czc_tVk4dAL9_Y2x7mA2jcS2fY8UGRUdwsxixfaBKmC-khd5mfgxWoecjAX9BrL37m5XOxmXc1ySr2MPqpRtXr6ssltrzrjdigYm2AEQRXaNtmg/w225-h400/20220728_203808.jpg" width="225" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw2eBP48hpQ6sOH2zrMxB0bvGzIbyUxXXVq7WgQ5mfkh-vzLIIvqbn66obU2LLIr-_pusir1wFYFeJAZlzUUkkr3L8TEZOx0a3ZWxgQad_e_tt1sLRFLB7F911iSWfBxnf9bGVVr4J1qSdrlXlSdA_XCjG-4ceU1JLVf57GV4_XNEl0oedF3xDMl3BYQ/s4032/20220728_210840.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw2eBP48hpQ6sOH2zrMxB0bvGzIbyUxXXVq7WgQ5mfkh-vzLIIvqbn66obU2LLIr-_pusir1wFYFeJAZlzUUkkr3L8TEZOx0a3ZWxgQad_e_tt1sLRFLB7F911iSWfBxnf9bGVVr4J1qSdrlXlSdA_XCjG-4ceU1JLVf57GV4_XNEl0oedF3xDMl3BYQ/w225-h400/20220728_210840.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg21hQK8aQnFMRkI6AGnecJDTne3CvH0ia8YEa3Y13qWoDg7qL3FWFs1SFYWU7U5FB5E6DL4uHmIJVl51mRQS3MkC5ruoK35tSOgIFgY-8MZm3WtQevQ-v_dFH3qMpwPHCDlX2teZU3A8J7yh_rRo6vTV80Xf57Fz_jEbMIztgqlUjamPdMY0Z88Aw_Pw/s4032/20220729_140039.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg21hQK8aQnFMRkI6AGnecJDTne3CvH0ia8YEa3Y13qWoDg7qL3FWFs1SFYWU7U5FB5E6DL4uHmIJVl51mRQS3MkC5ruoK35tSOgIFgY-8MZm3WtQevQ-v_dFH3qMpwPHCDlX2teZU3A8J7yh_rRo6vTV80Xf57Fz_jEbMIztgqlUjamPdMY0Z88Aw_Pw/w360-h640/20220729_140039.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisx5APq36k-6lQ-EbbmQkR16x5QWxxNyNLLXEb3QhHp_YGRL3FogULFP_WQY2-5HWOwS_80l4mDpyIKUqLreIKqFzkiJNsMqpoD5J6iyKoMwVUtOmq-Gv0dX84sepC3YdPKGrZSs4s5S0eD9AbaoaVSGB2eC5kT5g32Sj4HtCVo8aQSVpPO2j4MjC5Gg/s4032/20220728_164703.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisx5APq36k-6lQ-EbbmQkR16x5QWxxNyNLLXEb3QhHp_YGRL3FogULFP_WQY2-5HWOwS_80l4mDpyIKUqLreIKqFzkiJNsMqpoD5J6iyKoMwVUtOmq-Gv0dX84sepC3YdPKGrZSs4s5S0eD9AbaoaVSGB2eC5kT5g32Sj4HtCVo8aQSVpPO2j4MjC5Gg/w360-h640/20220728_164703.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Mom was also here for Fourth of July, so her and the ex-pat (Me) made sure to have Burgers for dinner. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgnlzvgkSrXPqsNriGSDXcn3LA4PwqsWfjACAD3TtG4FStoXyU1iOZrKFdaEMDodC1QPqLirpfYk-Oo4EbnJ-rlLiKS4ouS7koYZpboAjO7L8XKDnoFFsAbuiDmg1xmdzMgVF6bUi6XKo0M3gKjDqThLRkzxqSQNtITaqelhdeXqAoVL1q3-N8SIbX5w/s3648/20220704_183528.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="2736" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgnlzvgkSrXPqsNriGSDXcn3LA4PwqsWfjACAD3TtG4FStoXyU1iOZrKFdaEMDodC1QPqLirpfYk-Oo4EbnJ-rlLiKS4ouS7koYZpboAjO7L8XKDnoFFsAbuiDmg1xmdzMgVF6bUi6XKo0M3gKjDqThLRkzxqSQNtITaqelhdeXqAoVL1q3-N8SIbX5w/w300-h400/20220704_183528.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLVoHhZ2gSbxwEbIs-CDvx1m6jh9Qn1GaMZQAuPqtcsjV7wlc54lBP1hb7GZqCojGfSfPKHVBIjJFLEa7j1Y7lfbUlxCuBvvHu03bgHH1iFENkoK95LTJS2-NDw76sfTNmJLu4u_BUkP5gLWzxvRf17Z45U9jiWE-eKndBSY2SiUl91F_gBOg0y5lCw/s4032/20220612_160345.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLVoHhZ2gSbxwEbIs-CDvx1m6jh9Qn1GaMZQAuPqtcsjV7wlc54lBP1hb7GZqCojGfSfPKHVBIjJFLEa7j1Y7lfbUlxCuBvvHu03bgHH1iFENkoK95LTJS2-NDw76sfTNmJLu4u_BUkP5gLWzxvRf17Z45U9jiWE-eKndBSY2SiUl91F_gBOg0y5lCw/w225-h400/20220612_160345.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>And of course, Mom and the cat got on famously. I always say that mom becomes Charlie's favorite human while shes here. She doesnt pester him for cuddles as much as i do :p</div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDIF5Mr13GFHm779mAZxvLepNIYKBTprnfToXK2tfFUyfhn2KoDwPR5pQOgammqVM9E0skckrgmSo0VwEV5qrINUpFiwdsbSMpNL75cBrZmdqa-kwYbapua4CocOytBVwgvmysgcEwD8kJ-J2lomhyW36qoX1lgsPAwWdiF8SO3GdcigGJ-GpftL5MnQ/s4032/20220628_201607.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDIF5Mr13GFHm779mAZxvLepNIYKBTprnfToXK2tfFUyfhn2KoDwPR5pQOgammqVM9E0skckrgmSo0VwEV5qrINUpFiwdsbSMpNL75cBrZmdqa-kwYbapua4CocOytBVwgvmysgcEwD8kJ-J2lomhyW36qoX1lgsPAwWdiF8SO3GdcigGJ-GpftL5MnQ/w640-h360/20220628_201607.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We did manage to get in a few 'trips'--day trips and a few overnights -- so we could do a few things together without having to figure out taking Mush and all his paraphernalia. One of those times we went to London to see the new Cinderella musical from Andrew Lloyd Webber before it left the West End. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBa0z8cm5VyImFCE4MSxMjuaKS-HK3ZIGgqFYt9vTsfZZrtI36dOy9q5OGGK20Fy-CAr19EsSGNvDbQYEyk-PePPVTTk32Dr71yI3SncvdXqF3XLNc7gtk1iyPFuJmrNm_9KbP3jacTXbYhtUmK_VAUe2irMk-GypIwvcye6zwOkhmJfEi4-S_4e3Qg/s4032/20220608_171246.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBa0z8cm5VyImFCE4MSxMjuaKS-HK3ZIGgqFYt9vTsfZZrtI36dOy9q5OGGK20Fy-CAr19EsSGNvDbQYEyk-PePPVTTk32Dr71yI3SncvdXqF3XLNc7gtk1iyPFuJmrNm_9KbP3jacTXbYhtUmK_VAUe2irMk-GypIwvcye6zwOkhmJfEi4-S_4e3Qg/w360-h640/20220608_171246.jpg" width="360" /></a></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We went to a few towns just outside of London on the way to the airport, so we got to see Windsor (not just the Castle) and Marlow and see the locks operate on the River Thames. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaktelT3Bf7D8C7qj_om1GV26RF7OOB7CGkuELn0QrTUlmsvZuYGTPI7a_A9icyn7Bxh6g_8KZ3GzepfUmf3mM5VBM2_a8PxCphpjEIKLCwc2Z9sTMOMBSYHCl4z-yFB4Np0_OG6Rcy_TymQOIty8OA_BaZTjKdFTkxQLGQcnRuKl5B2GOtkzNHkHqlQ/s4032/20220801_203813.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaktelT3Bf7D8C7qj_om1GV26RF7OOB7CGkuELn0QrTUlmsvZuYGTPI7a_A9icyn7Bxh6g_8KZ3GzepfUmf3mM5VBM2_a8PxCphpjEIKLCwc2Z9sTMOMBSYHCl4z-yFB4Np0_OG6Rcy_TymQOIty8OA_BaZTjKdFTkxQLGQcnRuKl5B2GOtkzNHkHqlQ/w180-h320/20220801_203813.jpg" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1B-7RtmzdYW7VqJAo2NYDCW9dAFBM4jz-NqmZYMFHG032daZiNrnIkflmAG0KnmPs4p9j0BZ8jZ3IE2I_BeC-wVIyXzos9C3svzpeEWJwISTfN_Pek9T4w6CoMqMbtdONSMIeOI3ro_43eCWFNjawugaHRz_GIDbYDuSAkycrf8Godv03HqRQsGTbzA/s4032/20220802_105822.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1B-7RtmzdYW7VqJAo2NYDCW9dAFBM4jz-NqmZYMFHG032daZiNrnIkflmAG0KnmPs4p9j0BZ8jZ3IE2I_BeC-wVIyXzos9C3svzpeEWJwISTfN_Pek9T4w6CoMqMbtdONSMIeOI3ro_43eCWFNjawugaHRz_GIDbYDuSAkycrf8Godv03HqRQsGTbzA/w360-h640/20220802_105822.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyQFxI2ouVs9VZsV_M_x6_hfq0RMSAfT6oVEruuaNLssCisxWc7-2x5oZdEqhpLYdVCYLkZOQusDPVmFhA5w7GvW-l-InGnp8pcv8j68-tdgD0eYq0RT8dSxBPt0Lw9kKKU2u9WFD3sHJErSQiS4_tdxp0f9YSnmlp5IgXEwdoT6GKE7C_vo-_Eh5LQ/s4032/20220801_161837.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyQFxI2ouVs9VZsV_M_x6_hfq0RMSAfT6oVEruuaNLssCisxWc7-2x5oZdEqhpLYdVCYLkZOQusDPVmFhA5w7GvW-l-InGnp8pcv8j68-tdgD0eYq0RT8dSxBPt0Lw9kKKU2u9WFD3sHJErSQiS4_tdxp0f9YSnmlp5IgXEwdoT6GKE7C_vo-_Eh5LQ/w360-h640/20220801_161837.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdF8uhp4dO3p62HcoQn5o1fv02xq16zKzrlvgNo_P05HTPzEDn8x52Db77D39Sb10LRgsTOEd1n2D4sgyFWtyNPb1QN4w2TchXf0kA3QGoeRcTa0t7nVbvId0r_cdQ9jmrbkSHubLSB9PHZlTGXGfZa44qdZ6KnHR3TdljhzbknN3sqmLLpgqpWfidw/s4032/20220802_102633.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdF8uhp4dO3p62HcoQn5o1fv02xq16zKzrlvgNo_P05HTPzEDn8x52Db77D39Sb10LRgsTOEd1n2D4sgyFWtyNPb1QN4w2TchXf0kA3QGoeRcTa0t7nVbvId0r_cdQ9jmrbkSHubLSB9PHZlTGXGfZa44qdZ6KnHR3TdljhzbknN3sqmLLpgqpWfidw/w640-h360/20220802_102633.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div>Now Mush and i resume normal life. Its been great having Nana around, especially when i needed a Mush-free moment to just be me instead of Mama. Being mom to a toddler is tough work, but luckily i had my mom here to help me through some of those terrible two tantrums. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now we just have to gear up for the next adventure.....getting my little man on his first airplane ride so he can visit his American cousins, aunties and uncles for the first time 😪</div><div><div><br /></div></div>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-14420630222470342222022-04-18T22:03:00.000+01:002022-04-18T22:03:36.597+01:00Hindsight<p>Emotional abuse is the hardest categorisation of abuse to spot, but to those who have been through it--its easier to recognize. To those who haven't had the displeasure of experiencing it first hand, or even for those who are in denial it can be alot harder to convince someone that you've been through a trumatic abusive cycle. </p><p>One of the most frustrating victim blaming phrases I've come acorss was "If it is so bad, then why didn't you leave before". </p><p>There's a saying from my childhood that got tossed around quite alot "I don't know what I don't know". Stop. Read that again, and let it sink in, cause it's true. Hindsight is a fickle thing, especially for me. I constantly beat myself up and think 'why didn't i see/realize this before', and the simple fact of the matter is, before I didn't know. I know things now, and it's easy to see, but at the time I was none the wiser. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.safeservices.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/Cycle-of-Abuse.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="452" data-original-width="650" height="445" src="https://www.safeservices.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/Cycle-of-Abuse.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The fact if the matter is that I did try to leave my abusive relationship once before. Probably around 2016, when we had a group of 'friends' that were no good for us, I was done. I was ready to pack up and leave back to America and call it quits. </p><p>After an evening out at a Charity Ball, I got very distraught by my abusers' behavior. I sulked alone outside the party cause I didn't feel he or our 'friends' gave a crap about me. I got drunk, got tired of the party and just walked home by myself when I said to him I wasn't having fun and wanted to go home. The cavalier attitude I got in return ignited a rage in me. I locked up the flat for the night, and the next morning proceeded to bag up all his clothes and throw them out the front door. I wanted one of three things at this point and I really didn't care which way it went: I wanted him gone, or i wanted to move back to America, or I'd rather kill myself and save the embarassment of having to move back home and admitting i failed at life. </p><p>In Hindsight, I see that as the first time I tried to end the relationship. But of course, he apologised, said all the right things to get back into my good graces and we were back to being in that honeymoon love phase. Abusers are great at manipulating the cycle back in their favor. </p><p><br /></p><p>Over the past few months, whenever any sort of thought has come into my mind in hindsight that could explain things I couldn't see in the relationship at the time, I've been cateloguing them as journal entries on an app. I'd like to share some of them now....</p><p><br /></p><h1 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e;"><span style="font-family: times;">January 16th, 2022<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Statements that seem normal if said one or two times, but when they're constant its feels judgemental and controlling. 'You're hands are SO cold.' (Every time i washed my hands in the middle of the night, then came back to bed. If i cuddled or touched him-even on accident or subconsciously-he'd recoil so it felt like constant rejection. I found myself actively trying to warm my hands before i got into bed to please him.) 'You're wearing makeup, you look nice' Or 'You're hair is down. I like you with your hair down' (sounds complementary, but there is an underlying tone of i only like you when you look the way I want you to look.) 'You should [insert physical activity here]' (walk, bike ride, yoga, pole...pushing me to exercise always felt like his priority for me, not mine. Combined with how weight obsessed he was with himself...)</span></span></p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">January 28th, 2022<br /></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;">In hindsight im thinking of more and more things that i would or wouldnt do to appease Rob. Some things he would outright tell me what i can or cant do, but most of the time it years of conditioning(aka him expressing his interest or disinterest in stuff i did or said and i subconciously would curb my actions to suit him):</span></div></h1><h2 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web (West European)", "Segoe UI", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif;"><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-family: times;">* he didnt like our cat sleeping in the same room as us...so it became habit to shut the bedroom door or lock the cat elsewhere in the house. The same could not be said for dogs-he loves dogs and whenever we looked after his mums dog(slept at her house overnight, lived with her, etc) the door stayed open so the dog could wander in if they wanted to. <br />* i got into the habit of wearing old tatteted clothes for years (so long as they fit) and rarely bought anything new for myself because Rob was perpetually buying new clothes for himself and i felt like he obviously needed them more than i did. If i did buy new clothes, i would make sure it was something Rob liked based on opinions hes had on my wardrobe previously. <br />* at some stage in our relationship i tried to wear more makeup and style my hair down (instead of my default of no makeup and putting my hair in a ponytail) because hes rarely told me I look nice or given me a compliment and it was usually when i sporadically did something with my hair or makeup. Ie: i wouldnt have a hairtie, so id leave my hair down,but Rob said he liked my hair down and so i tried to have it down more. <br />* whenever we went away, slept in a different bed and even in a new house, he always claimed the side of the bed furthest from the door. I asked him about it one time out of curiosity and found out it had to do with his fear of being closest to the door if an oncoming attacker broke into our room. By default, any attacker would come to my side of the bed first. When i found out i think i made a joke about protecting him, thinking nothing of it at the time, but now im thinking it was more about his self preservation.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p></h2><h1 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e;"><span style="font-family: times;">Feb 1st, 2022</span></h1><h2 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web (West European)", "Segoe UI", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif;"><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-family: times;">Thinking back further and further to determine when the emotional abuse all started.... When i miscarried and no support was there....2021 When my dad died and it was just another fun holiday back to California for Rob while the rest of the family grieved...2018 When i was diagnosed with anxiety/depression and started meds....2016 When Lindsey and Greg were our our friends and that made us toxic,almost ending up with me leaving the relationship (the 1st attempt)....2014 When i got my Indefinite leave to remain,and my driving licence.. was doing well in my own job and making my own friends at pole...so i didnt "need" him anymore...2013 When we got Charlie and i was more obsessed over the cat than him....2012 Anytime ever that i did nanowrimo and the attention was taken off of him....2012-2020. The more i think about it, the more i see smiles fading away around the 1-2 year mark in old pictures.... the more i think the relationship started to die in small amounts only a year or two after it started.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p></h2><h1 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e;"><span style="font-family: times;">Feb 5th, 2022</span></h1><h2 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web (West European)", "Segoe UI", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif;"><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-family: times;">This morning as i was taking a shower i remembered something. I was thinking about safety measures...how Henry is upstairs with me, the stairgate is locked, Henry cant get into anything dangerous and the door to the bathroom is open in case i hear him get into anything. Since Henry was born, i havent closed the bathroom door for several reasons....one so i can keep an ear out for him, two he can come in if he needs me, and three so he can watch and learn from my behaviors...washing self, going potty, washing hands, etc. Looking at the door i remembered the only time ive ever closed the bathroom door was when i wanted to be by myself and take a bath or something. Usually it would happen when rob and i had a fight, or he upset me in some way and i wanted to be alone. I would go to the bathroom and lock the door so i could be left alone. Somewhere along the way, Rob discovered that he could bypass the deadbold lock by turning the bolt on the outside with a coin to unlock it. He would purposefully "break in" instead of respecting me and giving me my privacy.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p></h2><h1 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e;"><span style="font-family: times;">Feb 12th, 2022</span></h1><h2 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web (West European)", "Segoe UI", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif;"><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-family: times;">When we moved into the house, i was semi excited to have neighbors and be a part of a community. Rob expressed that hed rather not have any interaction with people just because hes used to not doing so. his mum is the same that she'd rather live in a country house and not have neighbors and just have herself and her family as company unless she wanted it otherwise. Selective isolation in a way. Rob is somewhat the same way just because hes grown up in country houses and is used to that type of seclusion. However, rob is the type of guy that can chat for england, so when a neighbor would say hi, he would politely turn on the pub bartender charm and keep chatting to appear friendly and approachable. In hindsight i see i started a habit of not chatting, or feeling awkward and anxious about talking with neighbors, with or without rob there, i think because subconciously i knew he didnt want to make friends with the neighbors so i did as much as i can to discourage interaction and when i did interact i felt awkward, almost guilty because i was going against what Rob initially wanted. The only reason i see this now is because i had a conversation with my neighbor Dave a week ago and i was more than happy to keep on chatting freely with him. even though i had henry and had things to do when we got in, i was happy to pass the time cause it didnt feel so awkward. The only difference....its not up to rob if i make good relationships with my neighbors. Cause he doesnt live here.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p></h2><h1 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e;"><span style="font-family: times;">March 7th, 2022</span></h1><h2 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web (West European)", "Segoe UI", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif;"><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-family: times;">I remember a time after we moved into this house, that i was coming downstairs from using the bathroom or something and all i could see before i turned the light in the bathroom off was a figure crawling on all fours up the stairs in the dark towards me. I had a full break down, crying tears, scared for my life panic attack. Through sobs i had to steady my breath enough to tell a laughing Rob why that was 100% not okay. How frightened i was, how scary that was for me to see something i couldnt recognize crawling up the stairs in the dim then dark light. He continued to laugh while i cried hysterically and protested that it was just a joke...ligthen up... you could see it was me... why are you so scared... Stop crying.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p></h2><h1 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e;"><span style="font-family: times;">March 23rd, 2022</span></h1><h2 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web (West European)", "Segoe UI", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif;"><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-family: times;">I went through a phase when we rented our first flat of wanting to burn incense or have reed diffusers around the house to make it feel relaxed and homely. It made me so happy to do it, until Rob expressed how much he hated it and how it sets off his asthma. Hes mildely asthmatic, but i respected his wishes and packed away all my stuff never to use it again. Its only now that im able to burn scented candles and essential oils that i remembered how much joy it brought me before Rob put a stop to it. </span></p><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-family: times;">Another thing was that i had all sorts of jewelry that i had been given over the years, some from ex boyfriends who im still friends with. I cant remember if Rob expressed that he didnt want me wearing them, or if i felt like i was 'cheating' by wearing something an ex gifted me but somewhere along the way i stopped wearing those pieces of jewellery. Ive begun wearing a particular gold ring with a tourmaline crystal in it again, which was a gift from an ex boyfriend and its become a staple of my everyday outfit again. </span></p><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Another time, when a friend of mine was visiting, we ended up going into a shop in Gloucester called Spellbound. It has all sorts of witchy stuff, but i took a shine to a little Blue Howlite crystal which was supposed to help with dream recall. Over the years i stopped remembering my dreams and so i thought it was perfect...and even if it was all in my head, the stone was a pretty blue so i bought it. I was so excited and i was telling Rob about the properties of the crystal and how it works. I 'charged' the stone in the moonlight, then put the stone underneath my pillow as instructed. I started slowly to recall my dreams which was nice, but the thing i remember most was that Rob could recall his dreams as well, cause he would tell me about his dreams when he woke up when i told him about mine. I cant remember when it happened, but after using the crystal for a while, Rob kept making snide comments about "i had another bad dream last night. Did you put that </span><i>thing</i><span style="font-weight: 400;"> under you pillow again?" Subsequent comments of how he didnt like it and i was locking it away in a box, never to be used again. Ive only recently gotten this out of storage and started using it again. I know alot of this could be put down to "it was your choice to do [X]" but its the fact that little comments of displeasure/ discomfort/ annoyance... things like this actively influenced my choices. I felt i was being considerate of my partner and listening to what he needed, but in hindsight i feel like i was being bullied into submission indirectly.</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></p></h2><h1 style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web (West European)", "Segoe UI", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif;">April 3rd, 2022</h1><h2 style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web (West European)", "Segoe UI", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif;"><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><p style="font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web (West European)", "Segoe UI", -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 400;">Being afraid of reprimand if i did anything wrong to any of our material possessions. Rob was all about material posessions. The show, the things mattered to his persona. Brand names, the latest model of some tech, increasing value on things he owned so theyd be worth more in the future. For me it was always about living comfortably, not living with the newest shiniest thing to show off. But Rob would. He would yell at the cat for stractching at the carpet in the living room. Eventually, i started yelling at the cat for scratching at the carpet cause it displeased rob. If i spilled some coffee on the sofa, or caught the wing mirror of the car on a hedge, or got a parking fine, or broke a mug while washing up, or Henry broken something/ruined something on accident.... i wouldnt want to tell Rob. I would be afraid of telling him, for fear of being judged. When i eventually did tell him, or he found out about something i did. I would be so overcome with anxiety that i wouldnt be able to get the words out because it would make me cry so much thinking i would upset him.</p></h2>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-61721187783798800382022-04-03T22:47:00.000+01:002022-04-03T22:47:19.359+01:00Emotionally Drawn and Quartered <p>There's alot I can't say in a public forum yet (divorce proceedings and all that), but I needed to return to this outlet because lately I've felt so emotional that I can't contain it anymore. </p><p>The tradgedy of Empaths is that we feel so intensely and deeply, that it's hard to protect ourselves when that emotion is stored without any way of releasing it. Writting/blogging is one of the ways I release all the built up, undealt with emotions that get stored within me. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6EB3Gjoogc7XZoIaH9IE93hMv0L7JGtJ5ph3WYLsumikL91iGlv1gS7djW4PJ3YUYq9CAMGkjzpW8S4_RbUdxZ6RLbiVMZl0oiFwZl0tzEiUwaJtfCR5RairNnxAWlizJU9cTUQPClxNg_qCk-aruc211cEz71iFeifgknCjMkOtIWm8zmyNHIp7nrA/s763/6b9dv3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="763" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6EB3Gjoogc7XZoIaH9IE93hMv0L7JGtJ5ph3WYLsumikL91iGlv1gS7djW4PJ3YUYq9CAMGkjzpW8S4_RbUdxZ6RLbiVMZl0oiFwZl0tzEiUwaJtfCR5RairNnxAWlizJU9cTUQPClxNg_qCk-aruc211cEz71iFeifgknCjMkOtIWm8zmyNHIp7nrA/w640-h420/6b9dv3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Above is a depiction of the horrendous act of being 'Drawn and Quartered'. Emotionally this is where I'm at. It's the most poetic way I can explain my current state without getting into details--I'm being emotionally drawn and quartered. </p><p>And on top of all the mental, emotional, cerebral loads I carry, I've also been ill the past 6 weeks. (Side note, this has also contributed to the emtional load...thinking that 'oh lord, do I have COVID?' and blowing through all of my lateral flow tests in an almost daily anxiety feuled panic to make sure I don't and that I'm not spreading it to others while I go about my daily life). </p><p>No, I don't have Covid. But for about 3 weeks (without realizing it until it got so bad I sought medical help) I had tonsilitis. 10 days of Antibiotics and I felt better, except I still had a cough, 'Oh well, it must be residual, i should just carry on.' Turns out that although the antibiotics took care of the Tonsilitus, they weren't effective enough to catch a secondary bacterial infection of Sinusitus. I wish I was making this up. I'm not. So, I'm back on antibiotics once again, more widespread ones that can kick it all this time, hopefully.</p><p>The reason I'm explaining this, is because as well as having to go through big life descisions and big life changes, my body decides to go on strike and I haven't been able to get a respite between everything I'm going though for quite some time. </p><p>The thing that happens when you get sick is you rest, you get better, but when you're a mom, you are expected to run normally like clockwork despite your body failing you. When I'm not trying to keep up with a tantrumous toddler whist being ill, I'm still trying to manage a household, work for a living, and getting my life shit together. When is there time to rest? When is there time to get better? Never...you just have to carry on. </p><p>So that is where I am at. I'm being pulled in all different directions and without an outlet I'm going to snap into quarters. And now that I've brain dumped....I'm going to sleep, because when I wake, it starts all over again. </p>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-3224585959276654662021-12-10T22:52:00.000+00:002021-12-10T22:52:16.655+00:00All I want for Christmas is Me<p>I'm not even sure who I'm writing this for yet, but its come apparent to me that there are people in my wider atmosphere that may not know what has been going on in the life of Jenny Mac. </p><p>The last 6 months have been some of the toughest days of my life and to be completely frank, I have gone through some shit. </p><p>There are people in my day to day life who know all the intimate details effecting my life. Some of my family know, but since ive been so emotionally distraught and overwhelmed this has come all from 2nd hand sources instead of me explaining what im going through. Then there are those who might have seen things ive posted on instagram, which has become my outlet for being heard and bringing awareness of issues to my 'followers'. </p><p>Now I'm not a 'social influencer' by any means, but I like to put into the world what I get out of it. Particularly when it comes to collective knowledge-- meaning if I have living knowledge of something that happens to be a taboo issue I WANT to share it with friends, family, and those I don't even know because someone else might be dealing with similar issues and there is power in knowledge. So I share my personal experiences, not only to get things off my chest, but to help those who might need it. </p><p>[Side Note: I was DMing an old friend of mine who had recently had a baby girl and sharing any sleeping/feeding/mom helping tips I could because I felt the urge to give back to the Universe. Take those things I've learned in my short 2 years of motherhood and give back to someone who needs it. And The thing I will never forget is her saying 'Thank you, I needed to hear that.' So I know it works...sharing experiences and passing on knowledge. It's what helps us grow as a collective.]</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span> </span><span> </span>So here's the naked truth: after 10 years it seems like the marriage I committed myself to is irretrievably broken. After 10 years of making excuses, turning a blind eye and refusing to see the writing on the wall, I have admitted to myself that I have been the survivor of an emotionally abusive relationship.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiN7iLsWThAVKEcufFFdZRNWYp6pYfuq-PDUd3f68S97foFeRJXCgMgEW0wNtXB-AehjseNBBBO2964jWrYOgHVLZbo68sGBTl2lrOUwHPn3kDtwx8AAQiqXH6WvCf-yun5KiFfJUHOkfo/"><img alt="" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="1114" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiN7iLsWThAVKEcufFFdZRNWYp6pYfuq-PDUd3f68S97foFeRJXCgMgEW0wNtXB-AehjseNBBBO2964jWrYOgHVLZbo68sGBTl2lrOUwHPn3kDtwx8AAQiqXH6WvCf-yun5KiFfJUHOkfo/w624-h269/image.png" width="624" /></a></div><p>The strange thing is, that because I wasn't openly being called malicious names all the time and I wasn't at the receiving end of angry verbal abuse or threats...I never copped on to being abused. This kind of abuse was more subtle, manipulative, and in no way less than any other type of domestic abuse, and I see that now. </p><p>I've looked at Women's Aid, googled certain phrases that I've come across in my findings and it shocked me how much these things ran true to my circumstances. I've expressed my findings to friends, to make sure I'm not just making things up and they've observed some of the signs independently because I feel like my partner, my closest companion was gaslighting me (more on that a bit later). I've had several conversations with professionals (social workers, Support workers, GPs, Councillors, etc) where my suspicions have also been confirmed- I've been emotionally abused. </p><p>That knowledge was the hardest thing for me to overcome. <br />I've been abused. <br />How could I have been abused? <br />How could I be so stupid not to see it? <br />Am I weak? <br />Surely I would have known if I'd been abused. This makes me a useless empath. <br />I can't even see what's going on in front of my face.<br />Maybe I deserve what I got because I was so oblivious to see it.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgtx4xLidLtGRk1YvPEArt3P482D_fdFT6HpVdvt801ud6qyahdNzsf72S714nMF4ZN_mIIhtLzTrUyylKG1uUmBotlR7cr5R8OWnx8yB5G6B33zLDhRbqt4S_UJJTJRy-aEr15z1orjpmjqg6VpNvfyhdFfaYdTgh-CDf2CsSDSA4K-XbkYWJi2tREVQ=s800" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgtx4xLidLtGRk1YvPEArt3P482D_fdFT6HpVdvt801ud6qyahdNzsf72S714nMF4ZN_mIIhtLzTrUyylKG1uUmBotlR7cr5R8OWnx8yB5G6B33zLDhRbqt4S_UJJTJRy-aEr15z1orjpmjqg6VpNvfyhdFfaYdTgh-CDf2CsSDSA4K-XbkYWJi2tREVQ=w325-h325" width="325" /></a>Luckily I have some amazing friends who help me see the reality of my situation. I am NOT weak. I am a loving, trusting individual who wouldn't expect someone I care about to stab me in the back so heinously. These friends reminded me that I am a strong, confident, independent women. They reminded me that I am better than my weakest points and that I will rise like a Phoenix from the ashes to be born anew, and stronger than before because I've been forged in fire. </p><p>There are a certain group of my friends who have become such a support network to me in the last few years that I no longer even think of them as friends. They are my family. They are the people I trust most in the entire world besides my own blood, who can't always be there for me since they live back in America. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0glv0ouU9QRkmafjgWLQJakhCQyBoHOT-ECIKDzI_HVGmmdo3unEwSOzNOu6YRpqdiX3_E3VMir8MDcLGF4KJdWYZW-U9NnxW05Cb_vAu3f8T5xS1b9Negq0G0i1uZS82RKir7hWMSevANhk2fNng8XLof3WRlut0_fY1iSsAJwFdR9XCiGCMqdlgXQ=s960" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="866" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0glv0ouU9QRkmafjgWLQJakhCQyBoHOT-ECIKDzI_HVGmmdo3unEwSOzNOu6YRpqdiX3_E3VMir8MDcLGF4KJdWYZW-U9NnxW05Cb_vAu3f8T5xS1b9Negq0G0i1uZS82RKir7hWMSevANhk2fNng8XLof3WRlut0_fY1iSsAJwFdR9XCiGCMqdlgXQ=s320" width="289" /></a></p><p></p><p>I think that's something that clued me in first to my circumstances. When the person I trust and love the most in the entire world isn't my marital partner, something is off. I stopped feeling love. I started feeling used--for my body, for my knowledge, for the things I could do for him, for the convenience of being a wife. </p><p>To quote a joke my abuser has said many times, "I don't like you. I like the IDEA of you."</p><p>It's those type of encouraging comments that turned my closest friends into my confidents instead of confiding in someone closer to home - like a husband. </p><p>It's the reason I sought refuge with many of my friends throughout this summer and fall. In my darkest days, I couldn't count on the one person I'm supposed to, to be my rock. Instead I made a support network out of my nearest and dearest friends. They have housed me, fed me, lending an ear to my woes, offered solicited advice, distracted me for a time, and taken me and Henry in as if we were flesh and blood. </p><p>I mean, lets be honest it's not hard to love that little man. Even when he has a vacant expression of confusion on his face, everyone he comes in contact with loves him. I pour my heart and soul into caring for that little man and I wish that he could feel the same love from his father, but having experienced what I have, it's all I can do to protect him from any fate I have suffered. I have seen him being blatantly ignored for a mobile device, a TV program, or any other distraction multiple times and it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart even when daddy isn't around... the amount of times I see a father and a son playing (on television, in a social setting like a park or soft play centre) and I think "That's it. That is the love I want for my boy."...well, there have been alot of those times. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1BNxhlNtNCRmvk8A_DU8KHOqe8b1PjrbuFCg0okky4Rsy3-CgJwmKTXi4rM_8RrEvofpsR7iYMglpsIgWde9q_glRVnixkL_kLC4spAr80aGC_e2lHSaE1KAro0Uy_6pdP1UaQEXh77lVbL1YjUEd-kv9WG70M8CD4xQ3hfOpqGV9obEMmBQnH4lHcQ=s1351" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1351" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1BNxhlNtNCRmvk8A_DU8KHOqe8b1PjrbuFCg0okky4Rsy3-CgJwmKTXi4rM_8RrEvofpsR7iYMglpsIgWde9q_glRVnixkL_kLC4spAr80aGC_e2lHSaE1KAro0Uy_6pdP1UaQEXh77lVbL1YjUEd-kv9WG70M8CD4xQ3hfOpqGV9obEMmBQnH4lHcQ=s320" width="256" /></a></div><p></p><p>I'm grateful to the people I have met who have included my son in play, and treated Henry with the kindness, patience and enthusiasm that I think he deserves. [Another side note: The last time Henry and I went to Play planet there was a dad and his son--probably 4 or 5 ish I'd say--that were rough housing in one of the play areas. The dad saw how shy and tentative Henry was around people (he still is bless him, I blame covid mentality) so he softened and encouraged Henry to play with him and his son--talked to him, tried to include him in the fun. I didn't know this guy. It wasn't creepy. It was kind and my heart swelled that there are good male figures out there for Henry to look up to.]</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhX8hlyP_3vCCyXBcN3Lh0H0cKYyXFrQE-DZpD1cqu_QbsxEmYidKME0X_kP9Q3_U21BgwJpNzlckJ-dm9yh3a5vJqSqEWv0qphksI_ShOCqkWM8LTuDj29JrcZxfZBcWExMtg8BTOwS9ERwb5OVTkCeS_4CG09Nu5qAgXd3T_z257Irg1TbjVdAZYbsA=s3264" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhX8hlyP_3vCCyXBcN3Lh0H0cKYyXFrQE-DZpD1cqu_QbsxEmYidKME0X_kP9Q3_U21BgwJpNzlckJ-dm9yh3a5vJqSqEWv0qphksI_ShOCqkWM8LTuDj29JrcZxfZBcWExMtg8BTOwS9ERwb5OVTkCeS_4CG09Nu5qAgXd3T_z257Irg1TbjVdAZYbsA=s320" width="240" /></a></div><p>Henry has become my whole entire world since he was born. I thought that I was loosing myself when I became a mother, but I'm starting to realize now that I may have been manipulated. After Henry was born, I felt a duty to 'get back into fighting form' when it came to my lady bits, and I think I 'gave in' to having sex before I was ready because it's what my husband wanted (to feel loved). I was never 'raped' as such, but i did feel this tremendous amount of pressure daily to be intimate once again. </p><p>It took me months to feel confident enough to give it a go and even then, the first time, and actually quite a few times after that it felt odd, not right, just not what I wanted. But I was doing my duty as a wife to be sensitive to how my husband was feeling neglected after having a baby and so I gave in and put my needs aside for the 'greater good'. </p><p><br /></p><p>A fat lot of good that did. And I want to retrospectively kick my subservient ass for being that way. </p><p><br /></p><p></p>Instead of focusing on my own needs and desires I was so focused on those around me. Babies take up most of a new mothers time, then there's the husband feeling neglected.... I completely lost who I was as a person. So, I tried to find my way back....<p></p><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnk2PJFkCw4EH65vgOjIGCyzt5y_tyuOflEq1BfTJ3nkAdQzDGkF7yFkrVGH00Pw08g7ClimJpEp-y-mTSgGD9DZBbNnHHofPOeX6whdx9xAQq2M6AMdJkRNODnJuzMOD15H3A9BJHxq8vplOdKABfBORhyepA0-eoBTpYve3e9l_K3pZ13H9rvVcpBw=s1119" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1119" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnk2PJFkCw4EH65vgOjIGCyzt5y_tyuOflEq1BfTJ3nkAdQzDGkF7yFkrVGH00Pw08g7ClimJpEp-y-mTSgGD9DZBbNnHHofPOeX6whdx9xAQq2M6AMdJkRNODnJuzMOD15H3A9BJHxq8vplOdKABfBORhyepA0-eoBTpYve3e9l_K3pZ13H9rvVcpBw=s320" width="206" /></a></p>I started firmly implementing self care. I made sure I had time to myself. And I thought really hard about what makes me happy, what makes me sad, etc. I started to really think about my life and where I could make some changes to have a better life balance. <p></p><p>I made weekly lists of what things I could do for Henry, for myself, for the marriage to help me focus on balancing my life instead of instantly putting all my energy into one aspect of my life. I wanted to make a conscious effort to respect and give attention to the parts f my life that fell to the wayside after having a child--mostly self love, and the love in my marriage.</p><p>That's when I started noticing elements of my life that didn't add up. </p><p>Very slowly, from being in tune with myself, I noticed behaviours' around me that made me feel off. Comments have been said overtime, actions have spoken much louder than words, in fact they've written whole essays about the warning signs that should have been obvious. </p><p>Sometimes they were obvious....to anyone but me. I've spoken to friends who recall the first time they met my husband and being very British, never wanted to say anything about their first impressions before because I was in that 'honeymoon phase' and they didn't want to shatter my perception. I wish they would have, because maybe I would have saved myself years of torment. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj58nZHadRk0O3kpnOLlbqO-T1lfFAzMYCanvRr67n_oO_Kryou81-WmjT5Br-ZiPc37uPxMbH9mfx5cA069SiXIc5WUb04LUT1bqjh7InRanmW749zqDStd7VlcIopHGTZikiR08bsuCJe/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3508" data-original-width="2480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj58nZHadRk0O3kpnOLlbqO-T1lfFAzMYCanvRr67n_oO_Kryou81-WmjT5Br-ZiPc37uPxMbH9mfx5cA069SiXIc5WUb04LUT1bqjh7InRanmW749zqDStd7VlcIopHGTZikiR08bsuCJe/w453-h640/image.png" width="453" /></a></div><br /><p>I have realized over time, through thinking back to different points in my life where things might have started to go wrong. It's very difficult to say when the dynamic of the relationship changed because it was subtly slipped in over time, like the Crime Drama Trope of poisoning someone's food for years so it goes undetected but its still effective. Under scrutiny, I've been able to pinpoint some moments in my life here in England where there has been a shift. </p><p><br /></p><p>2012 - When we gained new 'Couples' friends who we were really close with, there was a shift from banter to bullying. We picked up on some pretty toxic behaviours and it wasn't until we ended these friendships that we realized how toxic we because in our relationship. I had hoped we moved on from it, but I think this is when the gaslighting began.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjj2DAp6-y6_7xjAhGbRiNG-Lmo_HXlUM5Fw_tJp8lRvy2BO_SY4mKJIGieLn__8RV6Q_1vZwPipLx2ZE9dtf7k-DHs981CUzL9fBmb0Od31nI82E-ePhmSvJ6Vg02lww6mPUS-iUTz_C5zy7LwDAcvpQ_HfEPv5e3rGQdF6wSLhNE3W5KUZsfc_U0aJw=s1080" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1031" data-original-width="1080" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjj2DAp6-y6_7xjAhGbRiNG-Lmo_HXlUM5Fw_tJp8lRvy2BO_SY4mKJIGieLn__8RV6Q_1vZwPipLx2ZE9dtf7k-DHs981CUzL9fBmb0Od31nI82E-ePhmSvJ6Vg02lww6mPUS-iUTz_C5zy7LwDAcvpQ_HfEPv5e3rGQdF6wSLhNE3W5KUZsfc_U0aJw=s320" width="320" /></a><br />2013 - When I gained my Indefinitely Leave to Remain Visa, there was a shift in confidence. I suddenly felt more secure in myself being allowed to live and work in the UK without limitations. Looking back at photos in our first few years of marriage, it seems like there was a definite shift in mood in my abuser too. I can only speculate, but it seems like he might have been unhappy because I was finding my place in the world, where he stayed static. </p><p>2014- When I gained a new hobby (Pole Dancing), there was a shift in how I was treated (either an embarrassment, or a prize, depending on the mood of my abuser). Some days I was treated like the 'hot sexy wife', the prize to be won, the pretty thing put on a pedestal, someone he could brag to his friends about. While other times, it felt like my hobby got disregarded: didn't want to watch my performances, comment on the way I'm dressed, the amount of money I spend on classes, etc </p><p><br />2016- When I was assessed for anxiety and depression & went on anti-depressants. This was a tipping point. It came from the fall out of the three events above and the way life was after the first few years of marriage, then the floodgates of Major Life Events opened.....</p><p>2017- When there was a massive evet that spiked my social anxiety....<br />2018- When my father died...<br />2019-When I was pregnant/gave birth...<br />2020-When a pandemic started....<br />2021-When I miscarried....<br /><br />All the way up to now....When I realized that the last 6 years have hit me with one distraction after another to blind me from reality. I probably haven't experienced a healthy marriage since 2012, after the honeymoon phase. It took me having a baby, some self care, some tough love, and a miscarriage during a pandemic to kick off this thought process of looking deep within to find the root of my problems. </p><p>What I do know is that I have been unhappy without realizing it. I am not happy being a doormat for someone to use and abuse just to make themselves and their life feel better. I refuse to accept the abuse any longer and so I am standing up for myself and putting a stop to the abuse. My abuser refuses to see that the behaviour is abusive and continues on as normal. I know that I will not be happy if I live in the same house as my abuser. </p><p>At the start of November, after one of the worst weeks of my life and putting plans in place to safeguard myself, I spoke up to my abuser and expressed that the three days we spent apart were the best I'd felt in a long time and that I'd feel happier separated. That night, he moved in with his mother and Henry and I stayed in the family home. </p><p>I have seen a HUGE improvement in myself. My family, friends and those closest to me have told me how much better, happier, healthier I look and that my mood and demeaner have changed drastically for the better over the past month. I have also noticed subtle differences in Henry and the way he acts when he's at home. Whether that is to do with managing expectations or just a happier mum equalling a happier baby I'll never know, but I can surmise that I have done right by him and I've done right by myself. </p><p><br /></p><p>There is a long road ahead of me in rediscovering who 'Jenny' is, but I have come on leaps and bounds already and I cannot wait to actually start living my life. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>To quote some song lyrics (because you know I love a good song lyric) here has been a representation of my roller-coaster of emotions while figuring all this out: </p><p><br /></p><p>"When I'm away from you, I'm happier than ever."-Billie Eilish</p><p>"I say 'yes' too many times, now it's 'No, No, No'. Told you, I'm no longer under your control. No I'm not the kind of girl I was before. Can't walk over me no more." -Little Mix</p><p>"Your love feels so fake. My demands aren't hard to make." -Billie Eilish </p><p>"Tell me how you're sleeping easy. How you're only thinking of yourself. Show me how you justify telling all your lies like second nature. Listen, mark my words one day you will pay, you will pay. Karma's gonna come collect your debts. Maybe you'll change, abandon all your wicked ways, make amends and start anew again. Maybe you'll see, all the wrongs you did to me, and start all over." -Set it Off</p><p>"Is my value based only on your perception? Or is your opinion of me, not my responsibility." -Billie Eilish </p><p>"Maybe I'm too emotional. Apathy's like a wounded soul. Maybe I'm too emotional. Maybe you never cared at all....like a damn sociopath" -Olivia Rodrigo</p>"You made me feel so high, babe, then crushed me to the ground, babe." -Baekhyun<p></p><p>"I'm in love with my future. Can't wait to meet her. I'm in love but not with anybody else. Just want to get to know myself. I know supposedly I'm lonely now. Know I'm supposed to be unhappy without someone, but aren't I someone?" -Billie Eilish </p>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-69014711959428677692021-09-03T11:32:00.001+01:002021-12-06T07:30:59.978+00:00Journal Entries from a Broken Mind<p>The past few months have been rough. Ive been keeping a journal to help with my anxiety and depression. These are just a few of the pages from the paat 2 months. An insight, unfiltered into my mind.....</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCV6Yt5uh9sUv02W9ARDa3kpjtcjhJ5Oakc6fgjfDJ3DgKwek3t5LrJI8A4DyspVoekKxiQTJlT7MCqn_XNa5V-026WxbGKLcPtMTRZTlxkfrSxJFUiJfJT85IG0IpEoZZ-3KuH6rTAtWS/s2048/20210903_103331.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCV6Yt5uh9sUv02W9ARDa3kpjtcjhJ5Oakc6fgjfDJ3DgKwek3t5LrJI8A4DyspVoekKxiQTJlT7MCqn_XNa5V-026WxbGKLcPtMTRZTlxkfrSxJFUiJfJT85IG0IpEoZZ-3KuH6rTAtWS/w480-h640/20210903_103331.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GjWID2OIrDCH0i0TgBjEqMqmJIUpPveFx-S9EfolRWjijRLg0rJoz9zqqBGu1Lx3FQwEC26mwSxOUR1T-BKaeRfjYcAxnNEb1Sjtpul1POQkUj9ZI3gwnZ6jk_4PBTfearUe8-B_1cV_/s2048/20210903_103306.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GjWID2OIrDCH0i0TgBjEqMqmJIUpPveFx-S9EfolRWjijRLg0rJoz9zqqBGu1Lx3FQwEC26mwSxOUR1T-BKaeRfjYcAxnNEb1Sjtpul1POQkUj9ZI3gwnZ6jk_4PBTfearUe8-B_1cV_/w480-h640/20210903_103306.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1ClxCBoO97TgUQ-XvhGW0fTQRMHtd1iKmT8qbG-0LYwe-5dgnJtyrEcuYiSmL8qmyqfRnRTyrJUYVlxFCzgbN221AuUZuPCqMYXSodk-sLLddH8wDiFrOjzaZMUBXLtPKMBdf4nqlThQ/s2048/20210903_103446.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1ClxCBoO97TgUQ-XvhGW0fTQRMHtd1iKmT8qbG-0LYwe-5dgnJtyrEcuYiSmL8qmyqfRnRTyrJUYVlxFCzgbN221AuUZuPCqMYXSodk-sLLddH8wDiFrOjzaZMUBXLtPKMBdf4nqlThQ/w480-h640/20210903_103446.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif3jnVpZ12sXgvy1Ow1KklJAAG0IdPWCGgCYmK8kpDl53Fep8_AeLSyuQoyGa8YxORKHJVRVJmNF9_MEuJSgPNLPpwGjOZYw-n_CcRDiFX_5u2C7eSXoiZVPRzbFJnXrM08fJfwIa-zRQJ/s2048/20210903_103631.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif3jnVpZ12sXgvy1Ow1KklJAAG0IdPWCGgCYmK8kpDl53Fep8_AeLSyuQoyGa8YxORKHJVRVJmNF9_MEuJSgPNLPpwGjOZYw-n_CcRDiFX_5u2C7eSXoiZVPRzbFJnXrM08fJfwIa-zRQJ/w480-h640/20210903_103631.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqeY_yNITQ_DLE2VPlG-zlhoAJef9OYHCDMi_3NSkmx-IRX_1NEOc-NuyaMkwmJqicdkUxBx2jdQLZuwrosapN4m3VswwYsvR02sRiwfaRYIrxAVxOeydYv-27dXpNKsXgs9ChPqsIb7K/s2048/20210903_103709.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqeY_yNITQ_DLE2VPlG-zlhoAJef9OYHCDMi_3NSkmx-IRX_1NEOc-NuyaMkwmJqicdkUxBx2jdQLZuwrosapN4m3VswwYsvR02sRiwfaRYIrxAVxOeydYv-27dXpNKsXgs9ChPqsIb7K/w480-h640/20210903_103709.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKbFNCZ0UsWOWPxx5hz0igTbigsjwSMx2AV0wyPmpCKYN-I2oV0Oj-ELrmeuFNpgMay9AXK4en-f4dm90dMZq6WjkCG88QoX2jQm4QKVs6wChME09EgOfLspX1OINT7pJHdBivctbZf9h/s2048/20210903_103823.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKbFNCZ0UsWOWPxx5hz0igTbigsjwSMx2AV0wyPmpCKYN-I2oV0Oj-ELrmeuFNpgMay9AXK4en-f4dm90dMZq6WjkCG88QoX2jQm4QKVs6wChME09EgOfLspX1OINT7pJHdBivctbZf9h/w480-h640/20210903_103823.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcCJYOOg3lFlNfPc0z48CwsPAuY_gXcmqNRn0-LW7_yB-Pfz_GF4Bm5SRxPtNvM9oghHVpM-f2BGGyh5vj5cLrV8rXAk8UYzUaeqxy_3bHVJitkZKtpOytEQ3vdQMIfdYX40H7ASmm2E4_/s2048/20210903_103927.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcCJYOOg3lFlNfPc0z48CwsPAuY_gXcmqNRn0-LW7_yB-Pfz_GF4Bm5SRxPtNvM9oghHVpM-f2BGGyh5vj5cLrV8rXAk8UYzUaeqxy_3bHVJitkZKtpOytEQ3vdQMIfdYX40H7ASmm2E4_/w480-h640/20210903_103927.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFhk53tVB7w95zNhjVanA0ZlKibs2Q1H6-l68zvA3fEwzfBmntyr6lCpylCCX4umEOgvnbtr8c5R_NgcfMIL59J8yaiEZTZxoblKD9Qm4Lkw3fExg9KZzEIOheP_s1r3CG5A93xw37hYEt/s2048/20210903_110429.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1419" data-original-width="2048" height="445" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFhk53tVB7w95zNhjVanA0ZlKibs2Q1H6-l68zvA3fEwzfBmntyr6lCpylCCX4umEOgvnbtr8c5R_NgcfMIL59J8yaiEZTZxoblKD9Qm4Lkw3fExg9KZzEIOheP_s1r3CG5A93xw37hYEt/w640-h445/20210903_110429.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6plS5VuakI0_RM40ZgKF6oS0kaVGyQFlBTOPHXh9bXiUfeaMBzzchXeIeKcPZPz0RNtJva1UcWRP7EdVJkwRSbTcfgp69t_XOLE0tG4CQajuV2ZWedji66OFSxX9eSek5EwnTy1gu6Xr/s2048/20210903_104316.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6plS5VuakI0_RM40ZgKF6oS0kaVGyQFlBTOPHXh9bXiUfeaMBzzchXeIeKcPZPz0RNtJva1UcWRP7EdVJkwRSbTcfgp69t_XOLE0tG4CQajuV2ZWedji66OFSxX9eSek5EwnTy1gu6Xr/w400-h300/20210903_104316.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrUPqeFzacgaMAg6dz96YqU8i6dBmzMO7Hym3YABGLh4XPEVMobG9JnI5fAdhdnxkcqWafz1XAOQyuzqTSI5l_BE8bHMI9w9LhloSW0QKOfh6Kl6pTGBvgpmJKKZoloqbFrIHhAR9o-1R/s2048/20210903_110402.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1431" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrUPqeFzacgaMAg6dz96YqU8i6dBmzMO7Hym3YABGLh4XPEVMobG9JnI5fAdhdnxkcqWafz1XAOQyuzqTSI5l_BE8bHMI9w9LhloSW0QKOfh6Kl6pTGBvgpmJKKZoloqbFrIHhAR9o-1R/w448-h640/20210903_110402.jpg" width="448" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIC5y7cMt-7VIwXhSaG5q3AX3ELlpHbk0C-8wtcRlTRBBop3Hwra7-iGf5QHUtSyJY01edClfYmU2uzHRFRpa1lv-_Sa9BKGulInpCAvK0wYw5Cp7sEiqPD_4IYtePPXOlqYIQEt2rrfdT/s2048/20210903_110340.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIC5y7cMt-7VIwXhSaG5q3AX3ELlpHbk0C-8wtcRlTRBBop3Hwra7-iGf5QHUtSyJY01edClfYmU2uzHRFRpa1lv-_Sa9BKGulInpCAvK0wYw5Cp7sEiqPD_4IYtePPXOlqYIQEt2rrfdT/w480-h640/20210903_110340.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-9691249805912967532021-07-04T10:43:00.003+01:002021-07-04T10:43:28.863+01:00A Hard Pill (or 7) to Swallow--TRIGGER WARNING(loss) <p><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm a very open person, but this is something that I'm just coming to terms with</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> and its a lot easier to collect my thoughts over a period of time and put into a blog than it is to tell a story to someone face to face. My brain is in a heavy fog, I suffer from small tremors in my hands when I talk about it, but I'm currently constantly reminded of my misfortune (because of the physical effects) multiple times a day so I'm forced to face it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I am supposed to be 13 weeks pregnant by now, but I had a miscarriage.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">This is something that is seen as an awful, taboo subject, but I feel like in order to heal from what I've gone through I need to talk about it. First thing I will say is that I knew it was a common occurrence to miscarry a baby. In fact, most people wait until after the 12/13 week mark to tell people about the pregnancy because the likelihood of miscarrying is so high in the first trimester. I just didn't realise how common it is: 1 in 4 pregnancies end up in a miscarriage. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">For something that happens with those kind of odds, It's a wonder there aren't more people talking about it. I know it's a horrible event to go through both physically and mentally, but I hate the idea of suffering in silence, because no one talks about it. I didn't realize that so many women close to me have suffered the pain of loss from a miscarriage, not until I talked to them about it. Just like Postpartum Depression is a medical condition where support is openly available and encouraged to talk about if it does happen to you, I feel Miscarriages need to be treated the same way & have the same support/resources available (just in ca...not talked about in hushed tones after the fact when life spirals out of control. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">So this is my story, open and raw. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Last Tuesday I rang my doctor because there was some bleeding going on downstairs, when for a supposed pregnant woman there shouldn't be any. I was referred to A&E to get it checked out since when the doctor rang me it was nearly closing time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">To add insult to injury, at the same time Rob had tested positive for Coronavirus so the whole household was self isolating-Rob in his bedroom, and me and Henry away from him as much as possible in the house. So, going to the hospital I was asked all sorts of questions about having come in contact with anyone who tested positive for Coronavirus (yes) and if I was self isolating (yes). In the end, I was put into a sick bay that was something out of a Virus Disaster Film--zipped shut in my own little bio hazard cubicle--had to have 3 Coronavirus tests done on me, my blood and urine samples taken during triage before I even got to see the on call Gynaecologist. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyc46NyjSUpWO0-rXVvh1dQWj2d6Ljwod4d1iGZF4vDK6LHSJf7AbQ8zt6C3UzEIPtXRQ39EOgr5-Tnm7A8Fg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Three hours in A&E, a visit from the Gyno, midwife, and administrative midwife and it was determined inconclusive, but there was a possibility of a 'Threatened Miscarriage'. Only an Ultrasound would be able to determine the health of the foetus and they couldn't do one in A&E at 11pm at night. I was sent home and told to wait for a call for the soonest Ultrasound appointment available. Next day(Wednesday) I got a call for an ultrasound but the earliest appointment was Friday morning. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I was distraught, worried, anxious. I was working from home that day and found myself unable to concentrate on work because my mind was racing with all manner of thoughts. Why isn't there an appointment sooner? </span><span style="font-family: arial;">How will they be able to tell from an ultrasound if the baby is okay? What if it's not okay? </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Was it something</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> I did? Did I fall at some point? Did I eat something</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> I shouldn't? What if it is okay, then why am I bleeding? What if I was never pregnant to begin with? What if the home test I took was a false positive?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">An overwhelming sadness took over my body at the thought of having a miscarriage. I found myself staring off into space for who knows how long, before snapping to and realizing that all of this speculative thinking wasn't healthy. I needed a distraction, and starring at a computer screen and waiting for the software to catch up with my clicks was NOT the best way of doing that--it lent itself to too much starring off into space and not enough getting work done. Knowing that I wouldn't be able to be any type of productive with the mood(and life) draining out of me, I took the rest of the week off in hopes that come Friday there would be some better more conclusive news. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">When I went in for my appointment, I was told the rundown of how they were going to check for things. I saw a Nurse/midwife practitioner who took my details & medical history. I was so nervous that I kept forgetting basic information of my own information (my doctor/surgery's name, the name of prescriptions I was/had been on, etc). Embarrassed and flustered, I got through that session with the right information in the end, it just took me a little longer to get there. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I waited a bit, then went in for the 1st of 2 scans. The first scan was a normal ultrasound, where your bladder has to be full in order for the ultrasound to bounce the image back to the screen for the technician to see. It wasn't looking good. Not much could be seen because there were dark pockets of blood obscuring the path. I was told to empty my bladder then they would conduct an internal scan where instead of the jelly & scanner on the outside of my pelvis, they stick a wand up me to get a closer look from the womb opening. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The second scan wasn't any better than the first and after having 2 technicians conferring, it was determined that I had a 'Missed Miscarriage'. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Even though I was supposed to be 11 weeks along, the</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> foetus measured</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> 7.7mm, which would roughly be the size of a 6 or 7 week old foetus, and the sac was misshapen/not rightly formed. Also, the technician said anything over 7mm they would expect to see the flicker of a heartbeat, but there wasn't one. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I was ushered into a small side room (I suppose it was their 'Grief' room) with a small sofa and armchair facing one another, a box of tissues on a short cabinet, and light/bright walls with 'happy' scenescape art on the walls. I waited, crying & in shock, trying to process what I was told. I knew it was a high probability with everything that had been going on. All signs were pointing to a miscarriage and I was prepared for it (or so I thought), but somehow it just became real when the technicians both said to me "I'm really sorry" and all I could say was "it's okay, it's fine" when I really wanted to articulate, 'It's not your fault for telling me. I'm glad I have an answer, even though it wasn't the answer I wanted to hear. Thank you.'</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">It also made it worse being alone with my thoughts and replaying what the technicians said in my head. Mainly, that the foetus was no more than 6/7 weeks, if we were going off of size, which means that for approximately a month, I've had a dead baby residing within me. No wonder I had such horrible morning sickness. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Eventually the Nurse/midwife practitioner who took my details earlier came in and explained in full the diagnosis and next steps:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Natural Management-Where we wait to see if the body expels the tissue etc naturally without intervention.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Medical Management- Where pills/tablets are taken to help encourage the body to expel the material. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Surgical Management- Where the contents of the womb are removed surgically, and there is an option of doing this with a </span><span style="font-family: arial;">general aesthetic</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> or without. </span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">She told me that I didn't need to make a decision straight away; some ladies know exactly which option they want to take and some want to get over the initial shock and take their time to determine which course of action is best for them. My shock apparently put me in 'fight' mode of the 'fight or flight' theory because my pragmatic side won out and I was able to make a decision right then and there about which option I wanted to take--Medical management. I wanted Them gone. I wanted this dead baby out of me so that I could grieve and move on and it was the only option that I could start that day. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">She went through the one-off procedure with me, how it works, what will happen, the side effects, etc. then went to get a doctor to sign off on the medication and came back with 4 small pills, 2 pain pills, and 1 anti sickness pill. I gulped them all at once, swallowing my grief down with it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I went home, cried to hubby while I told him everything I could remember about what the verdict was, which expelled any energy I had left, so I went upstairs to sleep for most of the afternoon. I could do nothing else that day but lay down and stare off in one direction, thinking, crying, and thinking before letting sleep take over. I had several little catnaps, but then the worst set in in that evening, about 8 hours after the pills were administered to me at the hospital. ((I WARN YOU NOW, the next paragraph is GROSS. Skip to the paragraph after if you cant handle bodily functions)).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: arial;">First started the cramping. Imagine period cramps mixed with the early onset of labour pains when you start having contractions. This was the way the pills worked, they made the Uterus contract so that the material is encouraged to dislodge and come out. On top of that, the pills also gave you extreme nausea and diarrhoea so at one stage I shat myself before I could walk 3 metres to the bathroom, then proceeded to expel all manner of bodily fluids from both ends as I sat on the toilet and leaned over the sink simultaneously. For the rest of the evening, until about 2am I believe, I was getting up to go to the bathroom constantly to either throw up, poo, or have blood and tissue dripping out of me. When I returned to the bedroom each time, I would still be in so much pain from cramping, retching and straining that i would groan until sleep took over briefly, only to be woken up by the next round of expulsion. </span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I was in such extreme pain not only physically, but emotionally I was in turmoil as well. It was all the pains of labour, but without the squishy prize of a baby at the end... which somehow made the physical pain so much worse. Luckily that was the worst of it, so by 2ish in the morning I was able to get some sleep with minor aches and pains. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">This past week has been a mix of emotions to day the least. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">The doctor at the clinic signed me off for a week, not only for my emotional wellbeing, but also because it's recommended that women going through Medical or surgical management of a miscarriage be on bedrest or at least take it easy for a week post procedure. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">The day after I was sad and delusional and just not myself at all. I</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> thought I was going to have days of this where i just stare blankly all day, but it turns out that with the right amount of distraction, I wasn't like that ALL the time. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">For the most part I played with Henry, got lost in the story of reading a book, or slept off the emotional and physical exhaustion. There wasn't much I could do to function normally because I just felt sad and drained, but not because of anything that triggered thinking about the circumstances. However, there were triggers that did make me zone out and hubby caught me staring into space quite a few times... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Seeing a new-born baby at the supermarket...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Going to the park with Henry and seeing siblings playing together....</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Any mention of pregnant women (i follow some mum groups on Facebook so that is fairly common. I had to snooze those groups for a bit)... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Then there is (still) the reminder every day that my body is getting rid of evidence i was ever pregnant. Every time I have to go to the bathroom, I'm constantly wiping blood and tissue away. This is normal according to the midwife, for a couple of weeks, but its a constant reminder. Its as if when I'm having a good part of the day, I go to the loo and it renews that disheartened feeling I thought I was getting over.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">What's worse is that throughout this time, from A&E to the ultrasound, and a day or so after, Rob was isolating, so I pretty much went through this alone, and had to take care of Henry on top of it. Towards the end, I just couldn't cope and I was getting frustrated with Henry because I was so frustrated and depressed about the situation I couldn't take any more. When Rob started feeling the effects of Covid going away, it coincided with when I found out I definitely had a miscarriage(officially). He took over looking after Henry in isolation so I could just be depressed without having to force myself to function. It helped tremendously and that was a tipping point for me moving on from crippling depression(not being able to do anything), to manic depression (doing things out of the norm). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I liken my grief so far to a midlife crisis...the time where drastic changes come into play to renew that youthful feeling of life. For me, I've determined that I'm trying to do everything I can to take advantage of not being pregnant so I'm not as sad. So basically doing all the things that were a pregnancy no no: </span></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: arial;">Drinking Alcohol</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">Consuming copious amounts of Caffeine </span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">Gorge myself on soft cheese, deli meats, undercooked meat, sushi, etc</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">Dyed my hair</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">Enquired about getting a tattoo</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">Looked into giving blood again</span></li></ul><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruyNT5wAlE8gTwsYNvhyMBGuwDLT2qSGlD21Uji7N5Ci_RflF4okjUPD2BVqqkRxRYFbUxf5nehSIYDRaoPxbVottCvRfA18cVNM7_iwpgyqepUlK3ntzwV0qZngJQbGlbhyAvida-hAR/s2048/20210529_130024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruyNT5wAlE8gTwsYNvhyMBGuwDLT2qSGlD21Uji7N5Ci_RflF4okjUPD2BVqqkRxRYFbUxf5nehSIYDRaoPxbVottCvRfA18cVNM7_iwpgyqepUlK3ntzwV0qZngJQbGlbhyAvida-hAR/s320/20210529_130024.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">I don't know when my manic behaviour will end, or if it will... but I'm rolling with it right now because its stopping me from getting in my head and sinking back further down into crippling depression. I'm still depressed, daily, about the situation but the longer life goes on, the more variety of highs and lows there are during my day. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I know this wasn't my fault. The midwife said that miscarriage is just one of those things that happens--the luck of the draw. If I wasn't already able to conceive a child (Henry) I'd probably be far worse and blaming myself personally for what happened. As it stands now, I know its not my fault. I know that it must not be the right time for us to have another child, but it still hurts. <br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">No matter who you are, how you live, how many times it happens, which trimester it happens, it sucks losing a baby. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I obviously wasn't far enough along to know if it was going to be a boy or a girl. At one stage my morning sickness was so bad that Rob joked that it might be twins and I shouted "DON'T YOU DARE wish that upon me. One is hard enough!" After that comment, thinking about baby names, I decided that if it did turn out to be twins, that I fantasized about calling them Artemis & Apollo after the sibling Greek gods. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">In retrospect, the thought was silly and probably never was going to end up of any birth certificate with the surname 'Vidler' because Rob would probably veto it (also, who's to say it would have been 1 boy and 1 girl!).</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">But the more I pondered over this miscarriage and the circumstances, the more I thought I'd like to give my unborn child a name, at least so we can refer to Them as an entity rather than 'the miscarriage'. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I thought this one might have turned out to be a girl, so I'm going to honour this juncture in my life and say that the world almost got to meet my baby girl, Artemis. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Too good for this earth, a warrior goddess, Artemis will still live on in my memory, because she was real. She did exist. I can't just let her be another no-name statistic. I'm rewriting the narrative. I'm accepting I had a miscarriage, but it doesn't stop me from honouring Artemis. </span></div><p></p>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-75600342472833808162021-06-14T16:06:00.002+01:002021-06-14T16:13:26.267+01:00The Time Has Come...to get stabbed for the greater good<p><span style="font-size: 17px;">COVID-19 has gotten everyone in a tizzy. And whether you believe in it or not, that choice is up to every individual. Some people think its a hoax. Other people feel like once they get the vaccine the world will automatically go back to normal. Some dont want the vaccine.</span></p><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Personally, for me, when i heard about the vaccines, my decision was made. Greater number of people vaccinated, means a greater possibility of Herd Immunity and the sooner things will go back to normal. Now, im not one of those people who thinks it will magically happen overnight, but i know i will do my part in progressing the world back to normal. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">When Covid broke out, i didnt think it was going to be as big a deal as it was, but then it reached Pandemic status and it wasnt something i could ignore. Speculation flew around about how "long" it was going to last but i dont think the majority of people would think it was going to last over a year. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">I had my suspicions that it was going to last 2 years like previous pandemics and no matter how quickly things seemed to be progressing with a vaccine we were not going to be out of the woods yet. I predict that even with the majority of the population vaccinated, wearing masks, social distancing(to some degree) and obsessive hand washing/sanitizing will become normal for quite a few years. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">The first step though-getting vaccinated. The UK government has been doling out vaccines based on critical vulnerability and age, working from oldest to youngest. The time finally came that i got invited to have my vaccine on Friday, so i thought id do a little run down of how it was for me at least in case anyone was curious. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">I should say that i originally got a text inviting me to get my vaccine before it looked like my age range group opened up. I snatched that up, but unfortunately the day before my vaccine, i was super ill (unreleated to covid) so i had to cancel my jab. :( sad times. When i felt better i did rebook, and by that time loads of my friends seemed to be getting the text invitation so our age group mustve opened up. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">The booking system was really easy to manage. Super easy to cancel and rearrange. And you had the option to book your second jab as well and it showed you only the bookings for the time you needed (with the appropriate number of weeks between each jab).</span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">The day of my appointment it was fairly smooth sailing as well. There was a small queue to get in the building as they were doing a one out, one in type of system. Someone at the door asked some standard questions, then as the queue moved, you took a step into the building. Next step inside the foyer i got checked in with the booking code and verifying person details (name, d.o.b. etc). Another few steps and i was shown to an available station to get the vaccine. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">The centre where i got my jab was giving out the Pfizer vaccine, which is actually the one i was hoping id get. When i got inside I was asked a few more standard questions, including if im right or left handed to determine which side i got the jab in(the non dominate side). The shot itself took all of 5 seconds and didnt hurt any more than what youd expect a needle prick to be. I was handed some leaflets, and a timer set for 15 minutes and told to have a seat until that time was up. </span>
<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Done, dusted. I felt fine straight after. I could barely even see the pinprick of where the needle went in. Later that evening i only noticed the injection site hurt a bit when it was touched because Henry was jumping all over me and putting some serious pressure on my arm. Ouch.</span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Day after, again no major side effects except feeling stiffness in my arm and being tired.... then again, weve been having a heat wave lately, so it could just have been the sweltering heat tiring me out. All in all I think i had a good experience with the Pfizer vaccine and i am very thankful. Im hoping that the next jab goes just as smoothly. </span><br />
<!--/data/user/0/com.samsung.android.app.notes/files/clipdata/clipdata_bodytext_210614_155945_642.sdocx--><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQ5krB_c-GNjWtfcqNQF17WmXeymtWdaXMsCPsm07VmR7ocKzzzRLI4GLBFuTUdcG6j2oHSZCrsCUBwrfYSI3zoKAK8oaVt5liUSvmaKFCtB6IzjdGD93GN5ZY6snEV0lGfAxOElKOQVA/s2048/20210611_125952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQ5krB_c-GNjWtfcqNQF17WmXeymtWdaXMsCPsm07VmR7ocKzzzRLI4GLBFuTUdcG6j2oHSZCrsCUBwrfYSI3zoKAK8oaVt5liUSvmaKFCtB6IzjdGD93GN5ZY6snEV0lGfAxOElKOQVA/s320/20210611_125952.jpg" /></a></div><br />Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-13493723582317495842021-05-01T08:53:00.002+01:002021-05-01T08:53:54.668+01:00Global Nerds....UNITE<p>Lockdown has taught the world many things, but one affirmation I will always take with me is that Nerds/Geeks/Fanatics will flock together... even if we have to do it virtually. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuOqxylP2CKMqXFhHtHBI3hBZjKX-w2wmLBbU2AZvJrgK7-cOOhQgRlG5W1fAtgcZyWd5GUlTi6G_5YWrFCETKu2bIcWpzrK3XEsp7R78lPO2KEvZVLVAWbXmebzOjfUPJp5dUgQ6pVHYx/s498/hug.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="373" data-original-width="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuOqxylP2CKMqXFhHtHBI3hBZjKX-w2wmLBbU2AZvJrgK7-cOOhQgRlG5W1fAtgcZyWd5GUlTi6G_5YWrFCETKu2bIcWpzrK3XEsp7R78lPO2KEvZVLVAWbXmebzOjfUPJp5dUgQ6pVHYx/s320/hug.gif" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Take my love of D&D for example. I only recently got back into playing Dungeons and Dragons after a 10 year hiatus. I used to play in California with my college friends before I moved to the UK. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The group I hung out with tended to gather in a large section of the cafeteria at our community college, and someone would always set up shop early in the morning and there would always be at least one of us who would stay until the end of the day to stake out 'our spot'. It was a safe haven for all us 'weirdos' and outcasts to come and go throughout the day, hang out, play table top games, eat meals, study on the odd occasion, have a nap if need be, and leave our stuff for safe keeping while we were elsewhere on campus. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was a casual player of D&D at best; mostly I was the one jumping in to play someone's character so they could actually attend some of their lectures for an hour or so. These sessions would more often than not be ALL day and a lot of us were spectators while the game and the banter rolled on. I wasn't too into watching the game, but I did enjoy jumping in and learning the rules and praying I didn't mess up someone's character. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Fast forward to 2011, I got married and moved to the UK, so I stopped playing with my school chums. It took me quite a while to find another group of friends that played D&D for me to pick it up again, not that I was actively looking. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One of my work colleagues, Lucie, had never played D&D but her husband Simon is a full-on fanatic so a few years ago we devised a plot to start a new campaign. :) With a few seasoned players, and a few complete and utter noobs (and me, who hadn't played in nearly a decade), we set off on an adventure! This became a once-a-month Weekend session(due to us being adults and ya know...real life stuff getting in the way) for the better part of a year I reckon. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I got pregnant and played nearly up until my due date (where many a joke was made by our Hosts-Lucie and Simon- about worrying I'd break my waters on their living room floor during a session). After having baby boy(NOT on their living room floor), and being sleep deprived, new parents, etc.... I didn't really feel like I could slot back into driving 45min away to play D&D, baby in tow (although I'm sure that would've been welcomed). So I went without and I was missing the hilarity of sessions. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">THEN Covid happened....and lockdown....and the D&D group wasn't able to meet up in person, so they turned to a new campaign, on a new platform. They started playing on facebook chat/video, and somehow I weaselled my way back into the party. :) I think it started out as a one shot, a short term solution to get our D&D fix, but over time, it's turned into a weekly game for over a year during lockdown. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Virtual table top gaming is possible....annoying at times, but completely possible. There were trials and tribulations, not only with sound and audio connections but also with sharing screens, building online Maps, and getting used to asking a million and one times 'so, are they 5ft away from me?' or 'How close am I to them?' without having a physical table top marker to eyeball proximities. It's just not as fun as sitting in the same room and having banter. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Throughout the year we bounced between Facebook video and discord, lost some players who had bandwidth problems and other issues, gained some new players who had never attempted D&D before and overall kept each other sane during lockdown. Strangely enough it was only the other week when outdoor events could take place with masks & social distancing that I met one of my party members in real life for the first time! I had been playing D&D with Gareth for over a year and I've never met the guy! It's a strange world we live in, and when we are finally allowed to play again in person, I can't wait to give all of them a great big hug-- even a guy whom I only know by his character roleplay!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Further than this close-knit little group, D&D has brought me closer to an online community of D&D players across the globe. My friend Stacey got me listening to a D&D podcast called Romancing the Dungeon and I couldn't be more grateful. I binged the 24 episodes of the show and almost instantaneously became invested in the characters and the players. Last night they had a Season 1 'wrap party' on Discord and it was great to meet, not only some of the people involved in the podcast itself, but chat and have banter, with other fans of the show. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Proving once again, that fanatics will always find a way to flock together and discuss their favourite things... even while there's a global pandemic going on. </div><p><br /></p>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-27390695511407924622021-02-27T19:04:00.004+00:002021-02-27T19:12:11.818+00:00Positive Affirmations<p><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">I was talking the other day about positive affirmations. I think its a wonderful thing to be able to bolster oneself up by looking in the mirror and saying positive things about one's life. I however cannot for the life of me, stand in a mirror and say things and expect them to be true. I have a very hard time forcing myself to believe in things that i innately think are untrue. And its also hard for me to look at myself, past the flaws that my overly scrutinising self sees to focus on the good things about myself. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfCktxitzQZm9RT-Ip5h7jQt_NkKZr680Vqwiynva3xxasbdpDAEPJ0mquAcTIYLILQdaVFXWEhHbu9t8E4KmGZKNhg8OStDxYjk8SwF2rlDaiAGZvFD_T16pfIaGkGfGwOIF7BfMfAySa/s652/3jsdv8.jpg" style="background-color: #9fc5e8; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="652" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfCktxitzQZm9RT-Ip5h7jQt_NkKZr680Vqwiynva3xxasbdpDAEPJ0mquAcTIYLILQdaVFXWEhHbu9t8E4KmGZKNhg8OStDxYjk8SwF2rlDaiAGZvFD_T16pfIaGkGfGwOIF7BfMfAySa/s320/3jsdv8.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><br /></span></div><p><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">I do however have an alternative way of incorporating positive affirmations into my life. Ive always found deep comfort in Lyrics. So alot of songs that i listen to end up becoming my comforting sayings to build myself up. It acts much in the same way i think affirmations do, getting that warm glow or positive feeling to carry on with the day. A motivational trigger that helps one soilder on in the darkest of times or the most mudane of days. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">Alot of the times, lyrics become my affirmation after it triggers a feeling within me after a certain event in my life. Sometimes the power of the lyric itself is enough to make it one of my affirmations. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">At the worst of times i can be a pretty pessimistic person by default so it takes alot for me to self motivate. The power of music and lyrics helps me spin my attitude into positive thinking and self empowerment. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">Just to share s<i>ome</i> of my lyrical affirmations: </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><u style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">MUSE - Uprising</u></b></span></p><p><i><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8; color: #3c4043; font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-small;"><span face="Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif" jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">They will not force us</span><br style="max-height: 999999px;" /><span face="Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif" jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">They will stop degrading us</span><br style="max-height: 999999px;" /><span face="Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif" jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">They will not control us</span><br style="max-height: 999999px;" /><span face="Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif" jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">We will be victorious</span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: georgia;"><span face="Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif" jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: #9fc5e8; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;"><br /></span></span></i></p><p><b><u><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8; color: #ffa400;">HAMILTON(MUSICAL) - My Shot</span></u></b></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><i style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">"Hey yo, I'm just like my country I'm young, scrappy and hungry and I'm not throwin' away my shot...</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><i style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">"The problem is I got a lot of brains but no polish I gotta holler just to be heard with every word, I drop knowledge I'm a diamond in the rough, a shiny piece of coal tryna reach my goal my power of speech, unimpeachable...</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><i style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">"I'm past patiently waitin' I'm passionately smashin' every expectation every action's an act of creation..."</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><i style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><br /></i></span></p><p><u><b><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8; color: #800180;">JESSI - Drip</span></b></u></p><p style="color: #3c4043; margin-bottom: 16px; max-height: 999999px; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">Fuckin' wit no bitch<br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">Don't act like you know me<br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">You funny with money honey<br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">Don't act like a poor bitch<br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">I'm sick of all these fakes (Fakes)<br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">I'm sick of all these phonies<br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">Everybody same<br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">They be lame<br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">They be clonin' <br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">Ay, who you think you frontin' on?<br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">All you little kiddies run along<br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">I ain't goin' anywhere<br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">Ah y'all can kiss my derrière</span></span></i></span></p><p style="color: #3c4043; margin-bottom: 16px; max-height: 999999px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: #9fc5e8; max-height: 999999px;"><br /></span></span></i></p><p><b><u><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8; color: #04ff00;">ED SHEERAN -You Need Me, I Dont Need You (Chorus)</span></u></b></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><i style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; max-height: 999999px;">You need me man I dont need you</span><br style="color: #3c4043; max-height: 999999px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; max-height: 999999px;">You need me man I dont need you</span><br style="color: #3c4043; max-height: 999999px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; max-height: 999999px;">You need me man I dont need you at all</span></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><i><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: #9fc5e8; color: #3c4043; max-height: 999999px;"><br /></span></i></span></p><p><b><u><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8; color: #f1c232;">STARSHIP (A StarKid Musical)</span></u></b></p><p style="color: #3c4043; margin-bottom: 16px; max-height: 999999px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><i style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">Who wants to be like the rest<br /></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">And deny the best that I'm meant for?<br /></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">I will show t</span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">he status quo, <br /></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">w</span>ho cares about normal?<br /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">I'll never conform<br /></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">I will be content to resent the status quo.<br /></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">I kick down the walls around me<br /></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">They don't know how strong I am<br /></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">I'm not defined by boundaries<br /></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">They could never understand<br /></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="max-height: 999999px;">I'm so much more t</span>han status quo</i></span></p><p><br /></p>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-46916064778375846622021-01-28T20:46:00.002+00:002021-01-28T20:46:12.677+00:002021: A BRAND NEW YEAR--oh wait....never mind. (aka 2020 Mock II)<p>A New Year, so it must be time for a new blog post!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTdhk2aIpfBtBuzjX418Ma6yrMmnvV7P6NUwvMAy_oYhi9vYLQylURczwDTD-VNhlQ3kvRdOKikf1a-gKONYSfypR2hpGbgpftJ7fLIHJDXyJY2vZ-5F84x9C8oPG7m21866Si-ecyGJo/s924/DreamScryer.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="215" data-original-width="924" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTdhk2aIpfBtBuzjX418Ma6yrMmnvV7P6NUwvMAy_oYhi9vYLQylURczwDTD-VNhlQ3kvRdOKikf1a-gKONYSfypR2hpGbgpftJ7fLIHJDXyJY2vZ-5F84x9C8oPG7m21866Si-ecyGJo/w640-h149/DreamScryer.png" width="640" /></a></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWGKjm7gIdjSUfQDHlgbSFFWEyv4qttYU8iWpkDvkuEVo2t7t78LyEuVu68JorpR4NKjquAMpOVYJR3o-gOeiSxQV9D9LcUcc-9P4dydMjgeHJHsCKO-l1DaVFrP15LifGmApXL91u_fkv/s788/nano20cert.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="788" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWGKjm7gIdjSUfQDHlgbSFFWEyv4qttYU8iWpkDvkuEVo2t7t78LyEuVu68JorpR4NKjquAMpOVYJR3o-gOeiSxQV9D9LcUcc-9P4dydMjgeHJHsCKO-l1DaVFrP15LifGmApXL91u_fkv/w400-h306/nano20cert.png" width="400" /></a>Nanowrimo has been and gone, so all my writing energy was sucked up in the 30 days of November. I'm proud to report that I have successfully written another Novel, and I went over the target of 50,000 words, AND I still have a sequel to write for next year! Thank goodness for epic fantasy genre stories. </p><p>Then the British Nation had to deal with "Lockdown Christmas" which was a bit of a whirlwind. Where we live, we started off December with lighter restrictions for good behaviour--able to go out to Restaurants and shops with social distancing measures-- but then that quickly turned into a bad idea and then the nation as a whole was told nope-no Christmas for anyone. So, in true British fashion everyone complained about not seeing loved ones for Christmas, but then actually felt so comfy indoors that we forgot people outside our four walls even existed for about a 2 week period.</p><p>And then January happened...and we're still not out of the woods yet, being put on another National Lockdown for the foreseeable future. So, even though I've been stuck at home, I've kind of been busy with the ever growing restrictions/lockdowns the UK has been under. </p><p>Let's face it...I also get so busy I forget I even have a blog. That sums up my life in general, but I certainly feel that way during this past year. Living life in a pandemic is a weird parallel universe where things are the same, yet not the same at all. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDm6Z_2ZZHoY1k2rShdHOP3DUhKoIxvTUo4qR9RnX6srY60871tyEDivEFxb5hvrYzzW35Jl5N1UEpDakoO28TagrAQDn2bdgF3O_0c2do8iIes_y68pm4IW_S2J_Iwx3ym7xz4wqm4okL/s2048/20200821_150114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1730" data-original-width="2048" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDm6Z_2ZZHoY1k2rShdHOP3DUhKoIxvTUo4qR9RnX6srY60871tyEDivEFxb5hvrYzzW35Jl5N1UEpDakoO28TagrAQDn2bdgF3O_0c2do8iIes_y68pm4IW_S2J_Iwx3ym7xz4wqm4okL/w400-h338/20200821_150114.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>We've been lucky that, although we've been cautious, we've actually managed to keep some level of normalcy around our lives the past year. <p></p><p>Rob, although not been able to go out and do Races, has still been using time at home to go out running. </p><p>I've been able to visit a small selection of people this year during the pockets of time where the government allowed socialization and give Henry some sort of 'Normal' example of outside life. </p><p>And Henry for the most part has still been able to socialize with kids his age regularly through Nursery. </p><p>I was going through my diary and the pictures and videos I had taken throughout 2020 and I could easily count the amount of days that I had been out in a social setting. That made me sad, but I did realise that it was a pandemic year and also I spent the better part of the first 2 months still wrapped up in baby madness and didn't go out except for baby classes and to celebrate my birthday. Then I noted the times that I was just out of the house for ANYTHING where I could be in close proximity to other people (grocery shopping, petrol station, into town, picking Henry up from nursery, going to work, going for a walk etc)....it scares me that I estimated, the amount of days I was 'near people' added up to about 20% of the days in the year. On one hand I'm very depressed that I only got out of the house a 5th of the year, but on the other hand, I'm scared that I LET myself go out for that much while a global pandemic was happening. </p><p>Don't get me wrong, we've been safely keeping distance where possible and wearing masks, washing our hands, and trying to be responsible for the most part, but life goes on. I know that when I've been out (however little or however much that is...depending on which mood I'm in), I've been trying to be safe and my sort of way forward is that I'll be continuing safety measures long after the mandate has been lifted by governments. </p><p>In my opinion, there are going to be loads of people who refuse a vaccine to COVID-19. There's also the rule that no one under 16 in the UK will be vaccinated so there still will be transmission between households. And at some point 'Herd Immunity' could take hold, but no one knows for certain when that will be. SO I will err on the side of caution and I plan on still distancing and wearing masks and not travelling for a good long while after life 'resumes' again. </p><p>I will take small liberties when I feel brave enough to go out when we are allowed, but I shutter at the thought of anything grouping large people together. I've got a concert that was rescheduled to this June and I really hope it gets postponed again because I don't think I'd be able to go that soon after the way things are now. Same with travel. I know loads of people who are planning their next vacation and dreaming of going abroad, but I'm still very hesitant to get on a plane anytime this year. Maybe by 2022 things will look better and my anxiety won't be making warning sounds to my brain. </p><p>Everyone has their own way of dealing with this pandemic. I've put them into 4 categories of what I've seen and I think that everyone fluctuates between these four mindsets: </p><p><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">The Overly Cautious--Don't leave the house. Obey the law. Stay at home. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: #f1c232;">Reasonably Cautious -- Obeys the rules most of the time, but thinks some are down right ridiculous and will do what they want within reason. They're sensible people, who break the rules, but with good rationale.</span> </p><p><span style="background-color: #ef6b13;">The Ignorant-- Nothing registers on their radar and they go along in ignorant bliss. Either that or the ones who think Covid is a Hoax, or that the rules don't apply to them</span></p><p><span style="background-color: red;">The Rebels-- They know what's going on. They just don't care...because FREEDOM > consideration for health--theirs or anyone elses. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: red;"><br /></span></p><p>The people I know usually fall between the first 3 categories on different days/different circumstances. Some people fluctuate more than others. I have yet to come across someone personally who fits into the 4th category but I have heard stories of those types of people. I can't say that I understand people's rationale for one extreme or the other. </p><p>All I know is what works for me and what I'm comfortable doing. And for me...what I'm comfortable doing is being that mom who sprays all the playground equipment with antibacterial spray and going when no one else is in sight. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5582N7VRaIf8UzSluIc_QiPoRzKhcTmPNt8E7uVOWCQTejrN7sNtKvbNHzKEujL_5RSlGcH7I_ycFVdwAqigbRWow2P1Xo-r4jvFb-zd2wAopRRYlPxBxW3lfhjQepVxuL58QEjyLiRkm/s2048/20201121_140634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5582N7VRaIf8UzSluIc_QiPoRzKhcTmPNt8E7uVOWCQTejrN7sNtKvbNHzKEujL_5RSlGcH7I_ycFVdwAqigbRWow2P1Xo-r4jvFb-zd2wAopRRYlPxBxW3lfhjQepVxuL58QEjyLiRkm/s320/20201121_140634.jpg" /></a></div><p></p>I'm not so fussed for myself. Besides the downfall of not seeing friends, I'm quite happy to hide in my own little bubble reading books, crocheting and watching streaming services until the end of the world. Let's just say I can't wait for things to go 'back to normal' so that I feel more comfortable taking Henry out. Sometimes it's like Henry sees 'the world' as our house and Nursery and I can't wait to introduce him to more now that he's old enough to start absorbing everything he sees. <div><br /></div><div>The other day we had someone come around to clean our windows, gutters and solar panels. Henry was FASCINATED. He couldn't stop starring out the windows and knocking on them. It was like Brenden Fraser in 'Blast From The Past' coming out of the bunker for the first time and seeing other people besides him mom and dad.</div><div><br /></div><div>"LOOK! PEOPLES!!!!"<br /><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p></div>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-27428742172291287112020-10-25T10:50:00.003+00:002020-10-25T10:50:54.150+00:00A Story of Love, of Loss, and Disappointment (Manifesto Part 3-My Personal Take on Events)<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I've been the champion for others, and making sure their issues were heard in my last blog. I did this as professionally as I could and that was what I would have presented in the business meeting, should it have gone ahead. Now, it is time for a good old fashion Jen's storytime blog.... Settle in kids. It's gonna be a bumpy ride. </span></div><div style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-ab54d7b9-7fff-a19a-41f3-3fb725fa9ee7" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My story: </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the beginning I was happy. I found something I loved to do, in a friendly small studio that was reasonably priced and something I could afford to do once or twice a week. My love for aerial grew, the studio grew and that’s where things got more complicated.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The bigger the place, the more classes could be offered, and with the owner being the only one who did admin, lots of mistakes happened. Cash transactions became messy, money misplaced/or services mismarked as unpaid still. Information got misconstrued. Products went missing often, and instead of taking the loss the business owner openly shamed their customers on social media for the missing supplies trying to get to the bottom of it. There is nothing wrong with putting a PSA out on a Facebook page but the wording used was not unlike a ‘name and shame’ tactic. Patrons would be publicly tagged on posts which shamed them into explain that they did pay, stating when and where, all because the admin wasn’t as solid as it could be.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRsmPFpJ9sXPCzJ6r8ph830rrTB73z002QEt28DMCs6TjvA6ZQsa7UziRqScQVqmDBMdRY-qYsCZw7nwTPKgc83jkupeNKPgNjVxO39Xqn-FJTNo7XGGOiZdq5NboLPpQq-rrxOR7RE_DP/s2048/Rock_balancing_%2528Counter_Balance%2529.jpg" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: right; float: right; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRsmPFpJ9sXPCzJ6r8ph830rrTB73z002QEt28DMCs6TjvA6ZQsa7UziRqScQVqmDBMdRY-qYsCZw7nwTPKgc83jkupeNKPgNjVxO39Xqn-FJTNo7XGGOiZdq5NboLPpQq-rrxOR7RE_DP/w300-h400/Rock_balancing_%2528Counter_Balance%2529.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="300" /></span></a><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For every little mistake that was made or every poorly worded Facebook post uploaded it still didn’t overpower my love of this place. I ignored the Faux Pas and carried on with life….. that is until the offenses stacked up like Counterbalancing Stones.</span><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first big stone to be placed in my path of discovery came before I fell pregnant. The studio had to be closed for a month due to maintenance and instead of cancelling/refunding memberships, the proprietor decided to hold workshops the following January and offer 4 workshops—the equivalent cost of a month’s membership-- free to those who were on memberships. Some workshops were held more than once due to popularity, so specific times of workshops were assigned to attendees to prevent overcrowding any one session.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was a perfect way to arrange a work around for having the studio closed for a month, but still have people pay for their memberships. However, the times of workshops people were set to attend suddenly changed without much notice. Due to me living further away from the studio the time changes on the day made it difficult for me to attend half of them after I had signed up. I was surprised that the miscommunication in time was seen as my fault and that I would not be granted a refund because I was not the only one who had noticed the time changes. Many other students noticed the time change of workshops, it just happens that they were more flexible and could make the new time.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not only that, but when I attended the 2 workshops I was able to make, I didn’t enjoy them because the instructor/owner had a very aggravated attitude, calling me out in front of the class-publicly shaming me-and it did not make me feel welcome at all. I could not wait to get out of there. I left feeling so belittled.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The encounter left me emotionally shaken enough that for the next 2 days, I avoided the studio because I did not feel comfortable. On the 3</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="vertical-align: super;">rd</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> day, I returned to classes because I had private tuition booked and paid for before my classes that night. I was planning on entering a competition so I really needed to practice, but I still felt awkward and undervalued during this private lesson. At one point I discussed with the tutor my apprehension of putting a particular move in my routine, only to be met with hostility. Private lessons for competition pieces had always been about collaboration and making a routine best suited for the individual competing, but I felt like my concept was taken from me and they were trying to morph it into something THEY wanted, not something I was proud of. It was clear to me that at this point I wasn’t seen as a real person with thoughts and feelings, but I was made to feel like just another number, another potential breadwinner…..someone who was instructed to be the best to bring home another win or an improvement project to be shown as a before and after, and quite frankly, just another source of income.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">My confidence really suffered at this point. I didn't feel valued, I felt very out of place by the comments that were made in that private lesson. So, I hit another low point and really didn't feel like I was doing my best because I wasn't able to do what the studio owner wanted for my routine. MY routine! <span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Again I tried to shrug off these feelings of dejection, saying that it was just my social awkwardness/anxiety brain playing tricks on me. I was so blind to the shiny facade of this place that I could not fully put all my experiences together to see the bigger picture of what was going so wrong. I carried on for another month of harboring this slight unease, not knowing why because this was my ‘happy place’. Then I found out I was pregnant and I could no longer take part in classes—so my 1 year sabbatical from Aerial began….but somehow I wasn’t devoid of the drama.</span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">During my Pregnancy: Absence makes the heart grow fonder….or does it?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A work colleague of mine signed up for a 6-week Chair Dancing Course with me that was due to start the week I found out I was pregnant . Regrettably, I couldn’t join her and not that it was my job to, but had I been around I might have been able to cool the situation before it got heated. As it was, I had not been gone from the studio for a month before I was forced to get involved by the owner of the studio. I was called and begged to ‘fight [their] corner’ since it was someone I referred to the studio. This situation put unnecessary stress and worries on me while I was already 3 months pregnant—which FYI is the worst time to be stressed when carrying a child—and it made it appear as if my wellbeing paled in comparison to this owners reputation.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The issue in short was, the description of the course being advertised was recycled verbiage from a specific showcase routine back in 2015 and was not changed to fit the current course description(for the 2019 class). My friend signed up for a class that was not as advertised and wanted a refund. Normally these classes are ‘Non-refundable’ 6-week courses, but seeing as how the course was falsely advertised and totally NOT something my colleague wanted to continue, one would expect a refund or exchange to be given freely, without challenge. That wasn't necessarily the case. Offers to swap courses, insulting a potential customer's mental health, and one mention of calling trading standards later, a refund was finally given. From an objective standpoint, knowing both individuals, I can understand why they said what they said to each other, albeit they didn't communicate that well enough to one another.
This does not diminish the fact that there have been several occasions where information was either changed, misinformed, or not as advertised that could seriously get this business into trouble. While I was on the outside looking in, I started to realize that my discomfort wasn't all regarding poor admin mistakes either.
The issue with my work colleague opened up a whole 'nother sector of feelings. I felt embarrassed by the studio owner's behaviour. I felt pressured into taking a side. I felt sorry to my colleague that they had to deal with this unfortunate occurrence. It made me feel glad that I didn't have to deal with the studio owner face to face because I probably would never hear the end of it.
At this point I still championed the business (sharing links supporting the business online, liking/commenting on the latest IG or FB post, etc) but I was becoming more aware that it was better for my mental health NOT being there. It wasn't really until the drama surrounding the yearly showcase that I really started contemplating whether or not I wanted to go back to the studio post-pregnancy, or if I was better off not involving myself cause I'd only get more upset. But more on that a little later.....
Over the months of my maternity, through following the studio online and hearing tales my friends who frequent the studio had told me...it jogged my memory to things that had either happened in the past, or similar such occurrences while I was a regular at the studio. I started thinking retrospectively and came to the conclusion that this business wasn't the happy place I had once claimed it to be. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mistakes/Past Grievances now realized:</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. EXPLOITATION OF EMOTIONAL PAIN:</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The last showcase I was a part of before I left had been a grand affair. Most of the acts were full up with people from each section of aerial discipline, but the studio owner had an idea for the finale act. They posted a facebook message on the group page looking for people who would be willing to take part in a very small (6-8 people) group project....but then they actually tagged a handful of specific people, including myself. The act was to be self-choreographed, with the thorough line of 'This is who I am and I am not ashamed'....to, you guessed it "This is Me" from The Greatest Showman. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;">At first, I was hesitant to say yes. I loved performing but I already signed up to be in 8 other acts in the show and I wasn't as into the song as other people were. Through speaking with the studio owner I finally relented and said I'd be happy to do it. Later on during the process we all had to write 1 sentence to sum up "This is Me" for the introduction speech for this act. Wordsmith that I am, I thought about it and came up with my 1 sentence, shooting it off to the studio owner via private facebook message. They came back to me and said "can you just tell me about why you wanted to be in this is me then I will write the sentence". Obviously, mine wasn't good enough. It doesn't matter my reason/answer because it was never used in the introduction anyway, but for the record, here's my reasoning: they made me feel so special for singling me out to do this exclusive act that I didn't want to let them down. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span>Initially, I thought the people tagged by the studio owner were people who liked the song/movie ALOT, or who were like me --people who loved any chance to perform. This may still be the case, but I fear we were singled out for a far bigger reason. </span>This is MASSIVE speculation of course, but i feel it deep down in my bones..... all of us who took part in that act were having our pain exploited in front of an audience of 400 people. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Being backstage, I couldn't really hear the introduction to out act clearly and the adrenaline from the night probably didn't help me focus on exactly what was being said when we were introduced. It was only after the fact, when I was watching the recording of showcase that I actually heard the whole speech before we went on. I'm ashamed to say that the dots didn't connect until after I took my little pregnancy sabbatical from the studio. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I won't quote the whole thing, but it started off with the studio owner being bullied, and how this place is so important to them and so many people who have suffered. Eventually it segwayed into them asking a 'group of particular people to come on stage and share their stories.
</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><b>"the people in this group have been through alot in their lives, we have someone who lives with a life-shortening debilitating disease, that's Laura who you just met, someone who has dealt with 30 years of addiction of alcohol and drug abuse....someone who has dealt with a traumatic childhood experience and who is dealing with the death of someone extremely close to them. Someone who has had years of domestic abuse and is finally free, someone who has had years of being surrounded by emotional and physical abuse by people close to them, someone who is suffering from years of depression, taking them to the brink of suicide with anxiety and depression along the way.....At [the business] we build each other up....we build their confidence so much that they get themselves onstage to perform in front of 400 strangers."</b>
</i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I watched the recording of the show back, it clicked in my head...."okay, that's this person they're talking about, that bit is about this person"...and went down the list of the 7 of us. At that time I thought maybe I was the 'one dealing with the death of someone close to them' because my dad was losing his battle with Cancer at the time. In hindsight, I don't think I was noted at all in the little speech because I didn't give the business owner a 'reason' to exploit. I however feel for every person who shared that stage with me because I know some of their stories and it was a clear show of exploitation from the business owner...hey...you have a shit life, but I still turned you into a performer to deal with your pain. And on so many levels that is wrong. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That was the most hurtful, because I empathized with everyone who bore their heart on that stage, not knowing it was just another in the long list of ways of the business showing off their 'cash cows'.
</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">2. NARCISSISTIC TENDENCIES</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Another thing that clicked during my time off was seeing the business owner for what they really were. Someone who talks a lot of talk, but it's all for show. </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">The sad thing is I honestly can say that this person is a narcissist who doesn't want to be helped. I surmise that's the reason why they disengaged in conversation with me instead of going through with meeting and discussing grievances. It's because they know I will be blunt and point out all their flaws and they're too scared to face them. They would rather fill their space with 'yes men', people who will give them constant praise and attention rather than see it as an opportunity to learn and grow. To me, that's sad but in the end it was their choice and I respect that. So, they didn't want to hear it from me? I guess anyone who reads this blog and rumours going back to the studio will make them hear it from someone else...which is something they abhor anyway. Oh well, you reap what you sow. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;">All the classic signs of narcissism are there and one of the biggest things that drive them is self preservation. That's clear in the way they make so much money and keep begging for more because they don't want their (presumably) successful business to go under. It's evident in the fact that every trophy that comes back to the studio from a student who places in a competition is actually a win for the business owner. Myself and others who have choreographed routines and collaborated with this instructor to perfect a competition piece have been robbed of our victories and our creativity when they claim the routine as 'theirs'. They will forever be focused on how much they have done for other people like they are god's gift to the world, when in reality they have done as much harm as good in falsely claiming other's victories as their own, among other wrong-doings. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times; white-space: pre-wrap;">3. FAVORITES</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-decoration: none; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">This very small purview of 'me, me, me' doesn't allow much room for other people, and usually the people that are cared about and nurtured are the ones feeding the business(with money and praise) or stroking the owners ego. I've definitely noticed a pattern over the years of people who are deemed 'favorites':
</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-decoration-line: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">
➤People who constantly praise the studio (free advertising, appreciation posts, etc) to a nauseating degree
</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-decoration-line: none; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">➤</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-decoration-line: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">People who spend the most money at the studio (signed up for multiple classes/courses or have a monthly membership, but also hardly miss an opportunity for a photoshoot, workshop, weekend event, private lessons, merch, etc)
</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-decoration-line: none; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">➤People who own their own business (because they can 'relate' like no one else can)
</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">➤People who have a special skill the studio owner can utilize (Photography, Graphics/Advertising, business contacts, qualifications, apprentices, etc)</span>
<br /><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">➤People who can act as an example/trophy</span> for the studio owner (improvement projects-aka someone who is low confidence, or weak/overweight, or they have a preexisting medical condition where it appears like they couldn't do things others can. Basically anything that the owner can work on and say 'look, I helped them. this is all my hark work', etc)<br /><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-decoration-line: none; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">➤People who are in the 'Inner Circle', aka personal friends or other loyal instructors</span><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-decoration-line: none; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>
</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> At one time or another (it was off and on but I think the height of it was in 2016 when I was doing ALLOFTHECLASSES & extras) I think I would have been considered a favourite. I spent loads of money, did private lessons, achieved some great things, constantly praised the studio and it's owner. And my benefit was that I was getting paid attention to more, and I was treated with more respect and admiration. I was praised for my achievements...I was encouraged to do more...I felt like more of a friend than a patron of the business. However, all this light suddenly dimmed or was extinguished </span><span style="text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">whenever personal circumstances in my life came into play (when I got into a car accident and couldn't come back to the studio until I healed, when I had to take time off to go visit family, or just when life got to busy that I couldn't devote 3-4 nights a week at the studio anymore). </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of times where I felt very valued as a human being by this person...but I can't help but think there was a catch every time. I was at the studio when I got a text from my mom saying that dad had passed away...and the business owner tried to comfort me, and drove me home since I was in such a state of shock. (at that point I think I had fallen back into favor spending copious amounts at the studio, but it was still very appreciated that someone was there for me. Although I question now whether it was genuine, or if it was in self preservation--'look at me, I care ' or 'i don't want someone to die cause they crashed leaving my studio'). I was specifically asked by them to perform my 1st competition piece at the yearly showcase the week after when NO OTHER STUDENT was performing a solo act (only instructors). But again, in hindsight, was I only seen as a cash cow because they could tell from private lessons that I was a winner and they wanted to showcase that achievement (for them..not necessarily for me). </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe I'm just being cynical (although that is definitely not my personality type so for me to go down this negative path there must be some validity in it). It begs the question that if there's not something in it for them....do they actually care? Most of the time, t</span><span style="text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">hey just have a blatant disregard for other people who don't have anything to offer.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-indent: 36pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The date changing for the 2019 showcase is a good example of this. At the 2018 Showcase, a whole year in advance, the date for the 2019 Showcase at the courtyard was announced to the audience of the show—to the general public. Even though it had been advertised in the public sector, the date was changed and notice was only given on the studio’s Private Facebook Group page only 3 months ahead of the 2019 showcase date. Additionally, it was only posted on the private group, after only spreading by word of mouth at the studio. Someone mentioned that it probably needed to be known to everyone...not just those most in the studio.(I've noticed as well that communication issues happen mostly because information is spread in the studio, and only put online as a PSA afterwards; so, if you don't come into the studio frequently enough you could miss major news). </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4no8D2mmxvDl6lXih31Hvv0ZE2z47SsScE7hgU28k6nM5v1MlqIi9_B78w_rToV7hSLw_X3kXhJJkeVhC52P4vdUe0sz6Vwr7mrXbO5buB95KT3OPDUisXoPJbEa0gDD8CssFm0F6csZ/s414/FB.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><img border="0" data-original-height="185" data-original-width="414" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4no8D2mmxvDl6lXih31Hvv0ZE2z47SsScE7hgU28k6nM5v1MlqIi9_B78w_rToV7hSLw_X3kXhJJkeVhC52P4vdUe0sz6Vwr7mrXbO5buB95KT3OPDUisXoPJbEa0gDD8CssFm0F6csZ/w400-h179/FB.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was then posted on social media by the business owner that ‘one of the main reasons’ the date for the 2019 showcase changed was in order to fit certain students’ schedules, which is highly unfair seeing as how not only was the date announced to the public, but other ‘less favoured’ students had planned holidays around the date so they wouldn’t get shouted at for missing rehearsals leading up to the show, as this happened in previous years.</span></p><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><span></span><span><a name='more'></a></span></span><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">While being off on Maternity, this showcase moved dates and I was privy to the goings on of showcase rehearsals due to some of my friends being in the show. Having been in a few showcases prior, I was shocked to see how the rehearsals were operating. To put on a show of this grandeur, it is expected that people pay for rehearsals—to help pay for the instructors time for teaching the routine, the cost of upkeep of the equipment, cost of electricity used during rehearsals, etc. This is all reasonable, however, the one thing that pained me as a performer to hear about, was that some of the routines were pre-recorded.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m still confused as to why this was even considered a good idea: those in a routine had to learn choreography from a video, by themselves, at home, then be ready to perfect beats, etc at ‘actual’ rehearsal but somehow they were still expected to pay for instructors time in ‘teaching’ the routine. I’ve never been a part of a show where this type of method is used. And it confused me because one of the ethos of the studio on any normal basis is ‘don’t teach other people’ and ‘don’t try anything you’ve seen on a video without getting proper direction from an instructor first’. Does this key point only apply to when it is convenient for the studio owner to make a point about safety regulations? It also disturbed me that there was a showcase membership price depending on how many routines you wanted to be a part of—the more routines, the higher the showcase membership price…on top of a normal class studio membership people pay. It drew me to the conclusion that this was less about showcasing the talents and efforts of the students of the studio and seemed more like a money making commodity.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Since I wasn’t directly involved in the showcase (besides someone messaging to see if I had my old costume from last year’s showcase), I will never know what it was like to the full extent. I do however know that people who love and live for the showcase said it was one of the most stressful, mentally jarring experiences they’d faced. Many people I knew either quit or were very close to quitting the showcase because of how stressful it become. I heard from my friends who participated in rehearsals that the studio owner/instructor was aggressive, demeaning, and threatened to cancel the whole thing if people couldn't get it right.
<span> </span>I was starting to see in other people that my once love for their studio was actually a toxic bubble, one that I was glad to escape under the pretense of pregnancy.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The lead up to the final straw:</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I announced my pregnancy, I was hopeful that I could still continue to do some light stuff at the studio(dancing, choreography, stretch) and taper off the less strenuous aspects of aerial (crazy tricks and going upside down) . However, my involvement in the studio was a liability as long as I was pregnant. It was a fair point. I accepted that and moved on. For the first few months I didn’t feel like exercising anyway because of the nausea, but once that passed I missed aerial classes terribly.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And it wasn’t all of the crazy tricks I missed. It was Pole Flow—just dancing to music using the pole and the simple moves I knew to make my body move. I was more than willing to ONLY perform moves that I felt 100% confident on, taking it really easy, and even sign a waiver absolving the studio of any liability if I injured myself – I simple just needed use of the studio/apparatus to move around just to dance.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The list of restrictions that came back from me asking if I could come back safely (No aerial; Only pole. No going upside down. No climbing/moves up the pole. No static tricks where both feet are off the floor. Only spins & Floor work permitted. An instructor would have to check the pole, sign a waiver, have me sign the waiver and have another person witness the equipment being checked and sign the waiver every time I came in.) was a bit outlandish and I felt like I was being fobbed off. I could deal with some of the requirements – like not going upside down; that makes sense—but to inconvenience an instructor and another witness </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">every time</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I wanted to 'play' on the pole was too much for my anxiety. I hate to keep people waiting or hold people up and it didn’t seem worth it for me to go back to pole, pay full price, inconvenience people and not even be able to do much more than roll around on the floor so I left it well enough alone. However, I was feeling like I wasn’t welcome because the restrictions made it feel like I was going through hoops (not the literal kind). I chalked it up to my anxiety and abandonment issues that I felt this way and ignored the feelings.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">However, coming back to an open Practice Time at the studio after I had the baby and was cleared by my midwife-- suitably healthy and no pregnancy complications to speak of-- I still felt like I was being fobbed off when I was told I still couldn’t do anything except spins and floor work without a doctors note. I was only told this upon arrival at the studio, not at the time I booked online(which was 2 days prior). I’m sorry, but if that’s the case I should have been notified as soon as I booked online to attend the class and not waited until I was already there. I felt like my time and money was being wasted.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">Most midwives clear women for exercise at 6 weeks post-partum so it’s not normally something that needs a written note. I know that Pole and Aerial is more strenuous exercise than your average fitness regime and it takes a lot of strength and a lot of core power, which is why I waited until I felt alright in myself (10 weeks post-partum) to even attempt a light pole practice session. I know my body. I know what it could do pre-pregnancy but I wasn’t about to start whipping out the big tricks on my first day back. I planned on taking it real easy and going back to basics. Climbing the pole—one of the first things a beginner learns when attending their first or second pole class is how to correctly climb the pole. I wasn’t even allowed to attempt that without a note clearing me to exercise. This also could be sited for misconduct as nowhere on the business’ website/booking system/waivers does it say that before taking part in a class post-partum does one need to have a note from a doctor or midwife, or what the acceptable time frame for returning post-partum is (which I was told on the day, 12 weeks is standard in the pole industry), so once again I felt like rules were being made up on the spot to deter me from coming back there (probably because I was a 'troublemaker' who referred people to the studio *see above* who weren't complacent and kicked up a fuss).</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">It needs to be made clear on the health waiver at least that if a student is coming back after time off due to pregnancy (or any other serious issue regarding health) that a doctors note is needed otherwise it is unfair to claim this as a rule of engagement. I felt dejected when I was told on arrival that I wouldn’t be able to do the things I had set out to do in that session. And yes, I could have said that I didn’t want to participate in that session and asked for a refund, but I couldn’t have cared less about the money at that point. It was more the principle that I was not told in advance of this supposed rule and felt excluded/discriminated against.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">Honestly as soon as I walked through the doors and got that ‘fake customer service greeting’ I knew I wasn’t truly welcome. It was almost as if I could hear the inner monologue screaming out “Oh greeeat” in a sarcastic tone, “She’s back. Well. Better be nice so she spends more money”. It’s the same shocking two-faced approach like that scene in Mean girls when Regina says ‘Oh I love that Skirt!’ to the girls face, then privately, without missing a beat says ‘That is the ugliest effing skirt I’ve ever seen.’</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">Now it’s all circumstantial in my case, but as an empath, I have fairly accurate insight into people’s vibes. There are many many times I have picked up these certain vibes and have been correct in my assumptions. I was correct when once the studio owner said some degrading things about one of their other customers, behind their back, to me in a private lesson. It was true to me when one time on a road trip to a pole event, one of the instructors discussed openly with me(while I was ‘in favor’, aka during a time where I spent loads of time and money at the studio) who their favourite and least favourite students were and why. And my assumptions were evident when the amount of friendship, kindness and attention I was paid equated to how much time I spent at the studio, how loudly I pronounced my love for it on social media, how much praise I gave the owner, how many workshops/classes/events I attended and of course all that added up to how much money I was shelling out of the studio.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><h3><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times; font-size: small;"><u style="font-weight: normal;"> "You can check out anytime you want, but you can never leave"</u> </span></h3><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">I've been a part of the studio's private group on Facebook since I joined in 2013; I've followed it's instructors and several of my friends who frequent the place on both Facebook and Instagram over the years, delighting in seeing everyone's aerial progress. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">While I was off on maternity leave it kept me informed of how everyone was doing, but it also made me mad/upset/worried/annoyed at some of the stuff I kept seeing on social media. Since I wasn't "in the thick of it" and I was able to see things for how they really are I noticed a lot of things I didn't agree with. Some of which were the poor business practices that I detailed in my last blog and this one, but some things were just annoying little pet peeves that I could do with deleting from my life</span></p><div style="clear: both;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><b><br /></b></span></div><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 36pt; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">One of the most annoying bloody things I can't stand personally (although, when I was blinded by the light of my 'happy place' I used to do this a lot and I regret how much of a mindless mug I was), is the constant admiration and praise people give the studio owner. </span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"> "Thank you for arranging this Workshop/photoshoot/event".... it's their job. </span></li><li><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">"Thank you for teaching me this move"...it's their job, and also, thank yourself--your body did the hard work! </span></li><li><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">"Vote for ____"...never mind if you're not involved in the aerial industry, or you've never met the person up for nomination, or even find that their worth winning. Just do it because I, your FB friend, posted about it.</span></li><li><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">"Thank you for the opportunity...." given, some things are not possible without a studio to facilitate it, but let's be honest. You create your own opportunities in life. If you want something-you will find a way. </span></li></ul></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">I regret every trigger phrase I've ever utter about this business "My happy place", "Thank you for XYZ", "Vote for so n so", "It's not a business, it's a family". Some of it was true at the time....I voted for instructors up for an award because they were the best candidate. I expressed my love for my happy place because at the time it was, and it's only in recent years that I've found the underlaying grief it gives me. And I realize that with everything I know now, the studio is NOT "all that and a bag of chips". </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">Eventually I made the decision to just cut ties all together. At first I only muted the people and pages I was sick of seeing for the time being, but then I realized that I was far better off without seeing any of their dribble so I got rid of them all together and just unfollowed them, or remained friends but kept their posts on mute. There are still those who frequent/support the studio whom I follow on facebook and instagram--these people I consider friends or I just enjoy the content they post, but every once and a while I see the business name and just have to roll my eyes and ignore it or put their content on snooze for a period of time.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">I have eliminated I'd say about 95% of the posts that have triggered me in the past regarding this business and I have to say that removing myself from the studio, and disengaging in that content was probably the best thing I could do for a happier life. Do I miss aerial? Yes. Do I miss the people/patrons? Some...not all of them. Do I regret taking such a public stance? Absolutely not.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">I've already had people 'come for me', but I don't care. My blog is for me to share my thoughts and opinions. If someone doesn't like the content I put out, they don't have to read it! Just like I don't have to follow everyone I've ever known from the studio and be flooded with the things that cause me upset. We have to do what's right for us. I eliminated seeing posts online because it made me unhappy. I blog about these events because it's therapeutic for my mental health. I have not shared any names of people involved or the business' name because I don't want to 'cancel' anyone. What I do hope, alongside using writing as therapy, is that people who read this and still frequent the business will not suffer in silence like I did for years. Be brave...speak out....dare to enact change. I tried my best to bring this to light with the business owner so that conditions would improve, but to no avail.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">Had we had our discussion, I could have inadvertently improved the business by pointing out its shortcomings in a constructive way. On the other scale, I could have made things worse by offended the owner to a point where they took it out on existing students. I'd like to think that some of what I've said in this series will trickle down to the business owner and things may still improve. I know of people who have stopped frequenting the business because they also don't like the owners attitude or policies and if things were to improve then they might return. The only thing I can say with absolute certainty is that</span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;"> </span><b style="color: #0b5394; font-family: times;">I did what I did because it was best for me. And I hope my actions will help encourage others to do what's best from them (whatever that may be). </b></p></div>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-85663341561187478402020-10-18T11:22:00.000+01:002020-10-18T11:22:05.468+01:00COLD HARD FACTS (Manifesto Part 2) <p><i>Following on from my last blog....</i></p><p><span> </span><span> </span><span> RECAP: </span>After my recent disappointment in a certain business owner ghosting me on social media, I sent them an email stating that I would still be willing to give the feedback they asked for. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6e4SA9Q50BltEqR20u__0O7CKNlLlMVOT8NbH_S3i8oPN4orSDODzhovuNSNzeeO7N_fJy6Htjn9roHK2ZTcDXBxeStVECF0xb8nmmzxTQ7tExz3mw29EjKDp81f58BgAkXCEGPVnwTJz/s196/th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="166" data-original-width="196" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6e4SA9Q50BltEqR20u__0O7CKNlLlMVOT8NbH_S3i8oPN4orSDODzhovuNSNzeeO7N_fJy6Htjn9roHK2ZTcDXBxeStVECF0xb8nmmzxTQ7tExz3mw29EjKDp81f58BgAkXCEGPVnwTJz/w320-h271/th.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Their response was possibly the most professional piece of writing I've experienced from them. It was suspiciously like it was written with aid from someone with more business aptitude, tact and diplomacy (and rightly so) while still retaining their down to earth tone of speech. They fully admitted that they ghosted me although it seemed like they took offense to my use of the word 'block' and insisted that they didn't do so on social media, only 'muted' me. Strange....because I was pretty sure that when someone's profile disappears from even the generic Facebook search bar, that's because someone has blocked you from finding their page. Maybe I'm wrong, but I digress. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> Anyway, they explained that they've chosen to disengage in conversation with me because it's bad for their mental health and that their 'admin' team will be dealing with any further emails from me. As someone who suffers greatly from mental health issues, I responded that I completely understand and respect their decision, and that this would be my final correspondence. I added that I wanted them to have every opportunity to hear me out as this individual has said repeatedly in the past that if people have an issue with them or the business to "come talk to me first". </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">I had hoped
when I got that initial text that the truth will out and I would finally be able to
unburden myself of the long buried grievances I held and be a martyr for those
who wanted to speak up but were afraid to.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">I spoke to dozens of close
acquaintances & friends from the studio whom I knew had issues in the past
and present, hearing their stories and addressing their concerns. I have
compiled a concrete list of poor business practices, and personal shortcomings
that have been a detriment to this individual’s business. I had hoped that I
would be able to bring forth this agenda to the studio owner in a calm and
constructive way. This was not meant to be a ‘bitch fest’ (although with the
level of unprofessionalism shown in the past it very well could have been).
This was meant to be a chance to hear feedback, open up a discussion, and move
the business forward so that no one would have to suffer the same way I or
anyone else did. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">There are those who have drunk
the cool-aid for far too long, but I’m hoping that anyone who knows the business and reads this in
disbelief will wake up and run like many others did. Believe you me…once you
are out of the hazy mushroom cloud of toxic behavior and sketchy dealings, you begin to see a lot clearer and things from the past start to
click and make sense. So without further adieu, here are the reasons why I and others turned away from this business after years of loyalty and support. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;"><u>Please note the following key: </u></span></span></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;">🔼<span style="text-indent: 36pt;">= </span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">This is to note a first hand account, meaning I have witnessed/experienced this myself. <br /><br /></span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">➤ = </span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">This notes a 2nd hand account, or something that someone else whom I've spoken to has personally witnessed/experienced, so I'm trusting them that it truly happened. <br /><br /></span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">💢= </span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">This is something that has been filtered down through a couple of people, so it may only be rumor, but there is plausibility that this actually has happened.<br /></span></span><br />POOR BUSINESS PRACTICES:<br /><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">There is something to be said about small businesses, that their charm lays in the very human mistakes that get made. They aren't big companies that thrive on a perfect image and cannot afford to make any minor PR mishap. However, when all of the minor offenses all add up it seems more like poor business decisions rather than careless mistakes. </span><br /></span></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li style="font-weight: 400;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">There are no policies on pregnancy or post natal procedures on the website, health waiver, or any other public forum. During both my pregnancy and post natal period I was told that I could come back, but I couldn't do most anything. I was told on the spot and expected to follow the rules even tho there is no procedure on this. 🔼</span></span></span></li><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The Course Descriptions on the booking page are rarely updated and significant changes can be seen as false advertising. Someone I know signed up for a 'sexy music video style' chair dance class and was very disappointed when they were taught a contemporary piece. 🔼➤</span></span></span></li><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Reluctance to offer full refunds/admitting admin mistakes. Many MANY times students have been told they 'read information wrong' when they have evidence of admin mistakes that effected them. </span></span></span>🔼➤</li><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Changing dates of events (showcase) with short notice and only in a private sector (private FB group). The annual showcase date was announced a year prior in front on a public audience, however mere months before the actual showcase date, the date was changed and only those in the private Studio facebook page were notified. </span></span></span>🔼➤</li><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Changing dates/times of classes/workshops. Again, MANY times a class or workshop's time would be altered with little to no notice and the business owner denies changing it even though they are the only person who does the admin. </span></span></span>🔼➤</li><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Extortion/Charging students to get the business free advertising. A personal bulletin was made by the studio owner looking for people who were willing to have their photo taken (on the equipment in the studio with a professional set up) that the business could use on advertisements. Volunteering should have been enough, however, they not only needed to give their consent for their picture to be taken and used publicly, but they needed to pay the professional photographer, absolving the studio owner of all advertising costs. </span></span>🔼➤</li><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Flippant employment status: A few employees/past employees of the studio have made it known that the </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">employment</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> practices of the business owner are less than desirable. This ranges from changing a clause in the </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">employment</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> contract (ie: period of leave) or student agreement (restricting any competition by banning students from opening their own business or teaching within a period of time after leaving the studio) all the way to the confusion over status of </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">employment</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">. For example, the business owner insists that all instructors are self </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">employed, however they are still treated like normal employees with certain contract agreements in place. Another example of this is that instructors were paid per class(including a cushion period before and after the actual class) instead of per head, which is how most self employees exercise classes work. </span></span>➤</li><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Double Standards/Favoritism: There are so many examples of this, and although it's not a bad business practice that would hold up in a court of law, it's still worth noting a few instances where double standards could be sited specifically instead of relying on speculation: </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: 400;">1. Changing showcase date for a certain individual--This was self admitted on a facebook comment by the studio owner that "one of the reasons" the showcase date changed was due to a certain student's availability. </span>🔼➤<br /><span style="font-weight: 400;">2. Double standards when it comes to paying for Grip (an item from the online shop). The studio owner is forever chastising people for not paying for grip that every time someone asks to have grip, they have to show proof of their purchase of it from the online store. However, the people who hold favor with the studio owner will be told "oh don't worry about it, just pay for it later". </span>🔼➤<br /><span style="font-weight: 400;">3. Rigging a raffle to ensure the studio gets the top prize. One showcase, the top prize was 'won' by an instructor's partner. Since they had no interest in the prize--an aerial apparatus--they gave it to their partner, one of the studio's instructors. The instructor then 'decided' to 'gift' the prize to the studio. Allegedly this was all according to a plan for the studio to gain new equipment for free (since the prize was donated by the company who makes the apparatus). <i>This has been corroborated by 2 people who heard the story from the instructor who gave up said prize, but since this is a 3rd hand account, I've marked it as speculation</i>.💢 </span><br /><span style="font-weight: 400;">4. It is an unwritten, but verbally announced at every class, rule that you </span><u style="font-weight: 400;">'DO NOT TEACH EACH OTHER'</u><span style="font-weight: 400;"> and </span><u style="font-weight: 400;">'DO NOT TRY SOMETHING YOU'VE SEEN ON A VIDEO</u><span style="font-weight: 400;">'. However, the studio owner has contradicted both of these statements. The first by calling me out for not 'helping' a fellow student with the choreography, when I shouldn't be teaching my peers. The second by producing videos of showcase routines and telling students to learn it themselves. </span>🔼➤<br /><span style="font-weight: 400;">4. Allowing favorites use of the studio out of hours: During this pandemic, a comment was thrown about on a FB live video by the studio owner that they know everyone is missing aerial, 'so are we' and going on to explain that the instructors don't have their own equipment at home to train on, so they are deprived as much as the rest of the students were. However, I know of at least 2 people--🔼➤1 confirmed, 💢1 speculated by timings and locations of social media posts during lockdown (there may have been more)--who used the studio while it was allegedly shut. Not only would this potentially be breaking the law at the time, but it doesn't look good to have lied about it. </span></span></li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Poor inventory management. It's a common occurrence that 'things for sale' go missing from the studio without payment. Whether this is poor inventory, or poor cash handling I don't know, but this is FAR too common an occurrence to just be a simple mistake or someone has stolen merch without paying. 💢</span></span></li><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Double Booking/No Shows: Due to the business owner's poor admin skills, there were numerous times where private lessons overlapped or were double booked. There have been more than one occasion where a private lesson with them had been booked, only for the patron to be stood up by the studio owner because they forgot they booked someone in until they were called out on it. In addition, I myself have pointed out admin mistakes as a kindly gesture where 2 classes were put on the booking system at the same time in the same room. </span></span>🔼➤</li><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Pricing. This is a personal pet peeve of mine because the studio owner would, on more than one occasion, say to me "It's always about money with you, isn't it Jen?" .... My father was an accountant. I'm just interested in where the money is going. I have NO problem paying a price, otherwise I wouldn't have paid it, but I like to know where my money is going and keep my books in order...so forgive me if I ask questions revolving around money. But...my due diligence has shed some light of the following: <br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">1. SHOWCASE: </span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"> First of all, it is unfair to ask for rehearsals to be mandatory and have people pay for said rehearsals. Showcase rehearsals should either be mandatory and free....or they can charge per head, but then people can choose whether they pay to rehearse. </span>🔼➤<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Secondly, if you are charging per head for a rehearsal (to pay for the cost of keeping the lights on, the instructors time, the </span><span style="font-weight: normal; text-indent: 36pt;">equipment</span><span style="font-weight: normal; text-indent: 36pt;"> upkeep, etc), then it needs to be reflected fairly instead of picking an </span><span style="font-weight: normal; text-indent: 36pt;">arbitrary</span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> number. It's a elementary maths problem: If the cost of running a rehearsal in the studio is £50/hour, and you have 10 students, how much will each student need to pay?(£5/student) What would be the cost per student if there were 20 students? ...you'd think it would be £2.50, right? But no....still £5, that arbitrary amount that ensures a 50% profit margin at the expense of your </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">gullible</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> students. </span>🔼<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"> The Third issue surrounding pricing and showcase happened while i was away, but I had more than one of my friends still participating in showcase tell me that instead of attending rehearsal where the routine was taught to you... a few routines were not 'taught' in rehearsal. You were sent a video of the routine, which you had to teach yourself and know it ahead of the rehearsal </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">time slot</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">. Part of the cost of rehearsals is the TUITION/</span><span style="font-weight: 400;">TUTELAGE</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> you get from an instructor, otherwise, why are you paying for their time to teach you? </span>➤<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">2. MEMBERSHIPS: </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"> 🔼➤The price of a gold, all-inclusive (and by all, it meant mostly) memberships when I was paying for it was steep, but I couldn't do aerial anywhere else so I didn't mind paying for the </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">privilege. I</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">t made more sense to me than paying per class and spending loads more. Aerial is a *specialist* form of exercise....with specific equipment that you can't find in a gym. I know this is what SHOULD have been said by the studio owner, but instead they used the word </span><i>'</i><i>elite'</i><span style="font-weight: normal;"> when describing the new pricing regime post covid lockdown. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"> This may have been a case of misusing the incorrect word</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">, but I think it was more of a Freudian slip because what followed was disgracefully elitist, said with an air of superiority when explaining the price increase was "Because we're worth it". </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"> It was explained in an online zoom meeting that the old regime was out. Memberships are a thing of the past and a new block booking system would take it's place....EXCEPT for people who were financially secure enough to keep paying their full price membership during 'lockdown'(without use of it) while the economy tanked and people were either sacked or placed on furlough. Those who kept funding the business by paying their memberships while the studio was closed would be rewarded with a freeze on their membership price-- so long as they kept that membership ticking over, they would never face a yearly price increase. But prices would continue to rise at the </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">desecration</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> of the business owner for any other patron of the business. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"> I am outrageously </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">appalled</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> at this action. It's </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">essentially</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Socioeconomic Status Discrimination and it is </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">disguising</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">. The business owner is very quick to think about their own financial security by begging the government to reopen their business, or by explaining price increases as 'I have to pay myself too." However, when it comes to other people, there is no financial consideration, and it's all take take take and bled them dry. I've known people to pay for a one-off workshop or photoshoot instead of spending the rest of their very tight budget on the last food shop of the month. Now, that's that individual's choice; however I don't think the business owner knows how much of a slap in the face this 'reward for keeping membership through lockdown' really is. <br /><br /> People are real life </span><span style="font-weight: 400;">individuals</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> who require a job to pay for things, and while I appreciate that this business owner is a person, they were still making money during lockdown by offering online zoom classes. Whereas students might have been furloughed during this covid pandemic, couldn't afford a nearly £100/month membership without using it and now they are being punished for their poverty. Elite sport indeed....</span></span></span></li></ul><p></p><br />ALL BARK AND NO BITE:</h3><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">This business owner has a very
large social media presence and they talk a big game about body positivity,
mental health, women’s advocacy, but all of it does seem a bit of hot air.
Things that have been said on social media to big up women, to inspire confidence,
to be a positive influencer has to look a bit hypocritical next to the way this
person acts in real life. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>There have been posts about women building each other up, but then I've heard them talk about students behind their backs. And I know that this may sound hypocritical coming from me who's blogging about the shortcomings of another, but I've never claimed to be a saint. I see it, I say it. I'm that blunt American with candor for days. 🔼<br /><br /></li><li>There have also been speeches in person, social media posts, and business mottos online that state People of all shapes and sizes are welcome at the studio. However, I have witnessed passing comments in class about someone's shape/size being an issue in executing a move (technical things about weight distribution, not enough 'pocket' (skin/fat) to grip the pole, but then the odd comment that only eluded to the subject of weight loss in relation to stamina or progress).🔼<br /><br /></li><li>I personally have not felt welcome because of my pregnant/post partum status.<span style="text-indent: -18pt;">When I got pregnant, I made this known straight away as it would be a health risk undertaking physical exercise without my instructor knowing. However, this condemned my aerial career as I was not welcome in the studio whilst pregnant due to insurance purposes. Meanwhile, through social media and being told first hand by the business owner, there had been other girls who continued to train whilst pregnant. I was very confused as to whether this had been discrimination against pregnant women and the ‘favorites’ were an exception, or if it was just me who was being outcast.</span> 🔼<br /><br /></li><li>Then there is the feigned apathy for mental health. One example of this was when a work colleague of mine decided to give chair
dancing a go to boost her confidence. However the class (not as advertised) was
not for her. When she brought this up to the studio owner in an email, and
expressed that she felt very out of place with the fit young girls who
obviously had been regulars at the studio, the reply had been <span style="background-color: white;">“to <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #212121; text-indent: -18pt;">try a different course in the future however the
issues you have brought up seem to go deeper than the fact this was a
contemporary course”. This was disheartening for a number of reasons, not least
of all was the insinuation of ‘you got problems and that’s not my fault’
attitude of a business owner. 🔼➤<br /><br /><br /></span></span></li></ul><span style="color: #212121; text-indent: -18pt;">Another issue that could fall under poor business practices as well as attacking people's mental health is the amount of <b style="text-indent: -18pt;">Public Shaming</b><span style="color: #212121; text-indent: -18pt;"> </span>that this business owner initiates. </span><br /><p></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>There was a news article where they publicly shamed half of their customers for not being able to afford memberships during an economic crisis. 🔼➤</li><li>Reprimanding students in front of the whole class for a variety of reasons (being on their phone, not paying attention, etc) This is not school. We are paying for a service. If someone wants to waste their money by not participating in the class, that's their own prerogative. It is not their place to shame their students in front of others. 🔼➤</li><li>When the aforementioned 'grip' goes missing, the business owner usually posts a facebook message to the group page and tags certain individuals in the message. Then people are forced to embarrassingly explain that they paid for the grip they took so it wasn't them. 🔼➤</li><li>During showcase rehearsals, the business owner/instructor took the time to single out the individuals who were not doing well/holding the rehearsal up. This lead to threats of cancelling the whole thing if those doing poorly couldn't get their act together. ➤</li><li>Showing competition videos to students of bad performances the instructor has had to judge for a competition, openly making fun of the routine and the performer. ➤</li><li>The business owner's social media presence is a PR nightmare because I would say at least half of the comments they make online is either flippant, misdirecting, or sardonic to customers/potential customers. I think that sometimes they forget they are a business owner and how the things they say/do will be perceived. Which isn't a crime, but their comments on social media have left more than one person feeling dejected and unworthy of their time. 🔼➤</li></ol><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Like I said before, these are all things that I myself, or my sources have stated as reasons for discontent with the business. Most of us either leave or suffer in silence. I truly, truly hope that those who read this and are still immersed in the happy bubble, begin to realize that these things ring true and reevaluate going back if any of it has caused you past distress, or consider addressing the problem. </p><p>Next Time...I will go into detail about my own personal experience from a mental health perspective. Stay Tuned. </p>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-90035851854060858332020-10-10T20:22:00.002+01:002020-10-10T20:22:53.833+01:00Its a Small World after all (Manifesto-Part 1)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfgfHAWr6Dz8MAM-2jrkrnkMgfwZEE41G6YVUNE8V4ih66-tRLE3ddWka5wOIv6xXJ2sQVfUbokNIny9PbFAy1WNVOXWAAhvw1XxpFscw4NPAhk2p8b2jCUDYaLIH6biYEhwMAorlHjoW/s568/DISMALland.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="326" data-original-width="568" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfgfHAWr6Dz8MAM-2jrkrnkMgfwZEE41G6YVUNE8V4ih66-tRLE3ddWka5wOIv6xXJ2sQVfUbokNIny9PbFAy1WNVOXWAAhvw1XxpFscw4NPAhk2p8b2jCUDYaLIH6biYEhwMAorlHjoW/w640-h368/DISMALland.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>One of the hardest things for me
to do is keep my mouth shut when there is injustice. Seriously, I once got
detention when I was 12 for getting into a physical fight with a bully after
she wouldn’t stop tormenting a girl younger than us at school. Was it right to
fight verbal violence with physical violence? Probably not. But I couldn’t just
stand there and watch while this younger girl was being bullied. I don’t
tolerate bullies. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></p>As I got older I learned to hold
back my fists and try to talk things out whenever I was faced with a problem.
Slowly over time I learned to pick and choose when to speak up about my
discomfort in something, and when it just wasn’t worth it to leave well enough
alone. For the past 2 years I've had an onslaught of bad interactions with a local business that i used to love. I feel like ive turned a blind eye to some bad business practices, shrugged off some less than desireable conversations and just learned to solider on. For probably longer than two years, I’ve been supressing my thoughts about this establishment, because if I spoke up it would be a futile effort and
the outcome wouldn’t be the most desirable. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">Do you know those people that
just can’t take constructive criticism? That everything you say in trying to
help them is seen as a personal attack? For example, a director might tell an
actor that they need to enunciate their words better when reciting lines on
stage. A good actor would take the note and enunciate their words clearer,
while someone else would grumble and moan about it being the director’s fault
(bad hearing, etc) for not understanding the words. The business owner I have
grievances with is an example of the later and it’s the main reason why I
haven’t said anything until now.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">To put it even more in perspective,
I once complimented this business owner for hiring such an amazing member of
staff in regards to a new employee. Instead of feeling pride for their ability
to hire the right people that heighten their business, this owner looked
offended. It was almost as if they thought I held their new employee in higher
regard than I held them and it was completely unacceptable. What was meant to
be a complement of their hiring skills was taken as a personal attack. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">So when I say that I haven’t
spoken up for fear of the backlash, just know this: Even when I mean to
compliment them, their narcissistic tendencies somehow have twisted the
compliment on their staff into a negative reflection of themselves; therefore,
anything <u><i>actually</i></u> negative about them would surely have a more volatile outcome.</p><h3 style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The reason I speak about this now is
because I see so many of my friends suffering with the same or similar
grievances and it breaks my heart. I’m hoping that by writing all of this down
that not only will I be unburdening myself of all these toxic feelings I’ve
been harbouring, but anyone who has suffered the same wrongs will not feel as
alone.</b> </h3><p style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">Know that you are welcome to come and talk to me freely without fear
of judgement or retaliation – a safe space to air your grievances instead of
holding it in inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">First of all let me preface this
by saying that anyone who knows this establishment and knows me will know
exactly who and what I am referring to. I know that for every one person who
will be on my side because they have experienced similar things, there will be
an army of loyal followers who will rally against me…and that’s okay. I would
just ask those who will take up arms against my words that you truly look deep
within yourself and ask ‘Is it necessary?’ , ‘Is this my fight?’, ‘Will it change
how I feel if I bully someone for stating their opinion?’ I am not here to tear
people down or tell you what to do, I am simply stating my opinions and that
facts I have to justify those feelings, so please choose to be kind, not
blindly loyal. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">I have known many strong independent
business owners, and while they may not operate on a ‘perfect image’ corporate
level, they still all have a level of tact because they know they are the face
of their business. I have NEVER experienced the level of unprofessionalism that
this individual presents as a business person. There is a long list of grievances
that I have both personal and about the business practices. I won’t dwell on
the petty “he said, she said” antics, but I will express how this establishment
has affected my mental health. And because I have a lot to say, I will be separating
these into different blogs so they are easier to digest. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">For now, here is the vaguest
overview of the turn of events that brought on the need to write this series of
essays and air my grievances: <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the last year and a half, I have not given my patronage
to this business more than twice due to my pregnancy and being post-partum,
however I have been roped into drama unnecessarily.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I haven’t physically set
foot in the business since January. I have not engaged in any contact with the
business or its owner, even on social media, in so long because of the toxic atmosphere
I feel and wanting to remove myself from that circle and move forward with my
life. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The last time this business owner was in contact with me via
message/social media was June.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I received a Whatsapp
message from said business owner, asking if I could let them know what they’ve
done to upset me. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">Up until now, I have stuffed down
my feelings. I have silently removed myself from the situation to save my
sanity and not rock the boat in the process. But due to my past of having been ‘ghosted’
without explanation by so-called-friends, I felt it would be
hypocritical of me to do the same. So, in the most kind and articulate way I
could muster at 10-o-clock at night, I sent that person a message back, saying
just that.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxK9_gIg7sIgLJ1NYaSTOqEhmpJ2v6Ib2F3fJ9EIZyX988QOD7vtXxAGj12txjEFIUS0Xe-F5h0tuLtHNJZ31ih4OU-bWWY2SgP6cZ3YSdw46KLeMF180FG5zzIfrf09uQGZLsvdSOsULS/s1516/20201010_193208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1516" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxK9_gIg7sIgLJ1NYaSTOqEhmpJ2v6Ib2F3fJ9EIZyX988QOD7vtXxAGj12txjEFIUS0Xe-F5h0tuLtHNJZ31ih4OU-bWWY2SgP6cZ3YSdw46KLeMF180FG5zzIfrf09uQGZLsvdSOsULS/w285-h400/20201010_193208.jpg" width="285" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">What I was sent back was somewhat
of a surprise- an olive branch. A chance to meet up and air not only my grievances,
but present the concerns of many other patrons I’ve talked to on the subject. I
think the exact words i got from the business owners response was “…I would actually
love to hear more about this so I can work on this and hope no one ever feels
this way in the future...”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Although
I was not happy to be a bearer of bad news, I was excited at the prospect of
this individual finally being open to feedback. Myself and countless others who
have been jilted by this business would finally have a chance to be heard in
hopes that things would change for the better. But this dream may have been to
short lived. In the midst of back and forth messages trying to arrange a time
for a meeting, my final message bounced back. It was sent, but never delivered.
The message was never seen. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">In fact, it took a friend of mine
to casually mention that she was blocked on social media by this same
individual, for me to actually investigate if I had been blocked in the same
capacity. I checked my Whatsapp message….found it wasn’t ‘delivered’ and then
noticed that this person’s contact picture had disappeared from the
conversation ‘bubble’. I checked facebook…can’t see their profile (aka
blocked). I checked Instagram…also invisible to me (aka blocked again).<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">Just when I imagined that things
could be resolved, and a meeting would be held to have a civil conversation I
surmise that it was all pomp and circumstance and a meeting was never going to
happen anyway. In a last attempt to make things right, I sent an e-mail… something
that hasn’t been blocked…to the business and announced that although the act of
blocking me was unprofessional, I was still genuinely willing to give them the
feedback they asked for. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know what will come of this, or if it
will be an never-ending saga. I don’t know if they ever truly desired the
feedback and to grow their business into something better for the future, or if
it was all a façade. ….All I know is that it has gone this far and I would be
remiss if I didn’t speak up for the dozens of people I personally know that
have suffered trauma, mental anguish, exploitation, low self-esteem, injustice,
and unfair encounters with this person and their business, especially when so
many have claimed it to be their ‘happy place’ in the past. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">It begs the question...was it ever a happy place? Was it my version of Disneyland? Or are we all looking through rose tinted glasses and eventually find out that its <b>Dismal</b><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">and after all? </span></p>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-12777732620025945502020-10-04T10:43:00.002+01:002020-10-04T10:47:13.535+01:00The onset of late night anxiety<p>So heres a fun little insight into anxiety...its a pain in the ass. It rarely ever goes away and you can only learn to mange it, or try and numb it for a little while. Thats why people who arent on anxiety medication usually turn to drugs, drinking, gambling or sex to distract themselves from the anxiety that gets overwhelming from time to time. I wrote a little prose (would you call this prose?) In the moment of an anxiety episode i had to illustrate what goes on when i have an attack. </p><p>I wrote this drunk, whilst having an attack so forgive me if its a little disorganised-its just how thoughts raced through my mind at the time. whats that phrase?...was it Hemmingway that said "write drunk, edit sober"? Well, that's what happened here. Enjoy.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>"Missed messages on my notification widget of my phone. Oh now. That name. Not again. Heart palpitations. Why me? Why this? What now? Should i look? Should i not? Its gonna bug me if i dont. But then im damned if i look cause theyll see i read the message. Do i leave it until tomorrow? I wont be able to get to sleep. Ill keep wondering what they want. </p><p>Fuck it. Im opening it. </p><p>Okay. Its not so bad. But now ive read it. Do i reply? Do i not reply? Do i leave if and reply tomorrow? No, ill be up all night trying to think of what to say. I wont sleep. Best write something now. But what to say? I dont want to. I just want this to go away. I cant deal.</p><p>The impending doom creeps over me like a fog, enveloping my senses in its dark dreary matter. Anxiety. Its here and its staying. I sigh and steady myself. Time to craft a response.</p><p>A moment later...</p><p>SEND. There. Its done. I can go to sleep now.... except i cant. My mind races. I cant stop thinking about the words in my message. What will they think? What will they say? Will i get backlash from the proverbial shit hitting the fan? I need to relax. I need to go to bed-look at the time. But i cant sleep when im like this. My mind racing like the beating of hummingbirds wings,faster and faster as i try to leave my body and fly away to escape my current misfortune. </p><p>I put my headphone on and crank up some tunes hoping to drown out the noise that my anxiety is making. My anxiety is unwelcome noise, like a poorly practiced music student screeching irritating cords on an ill-fated stringed instrument. The music, although lovely and enjoyable, does not compare to the ruckus my anxiety makes. I need something more. </p><p>As i pace downstairs i pass the liqour cabinet, something i rarely touch now a days. </p><p>Fuck it. Im having a drink. </p><p>A nice drink, amaretto, i like amaretto...straight. thatll get me buzzed enough to shut my brain up. But wait, next to it...Bourbon. thats stronger. I dont much care for the taste on its own, but with my sweet favourite amaretto....and double the spirits. That'll do. </p><p><br /></p><p>I grab both bottles and begin mixing the concoction. No mixers. Just straight proof. I need sleep. I dont want to feel this anxiety. I justify my actions as i take swig after swig of the amber liquid, each time feeling the anxiety fading into the background. </p><p>I change up my plan and try putting on an audio book ive listened to before and concentrate on visualizing a detailed picture of the scene and characters as the narrators describes it all in detail. I engrose myself in it, until in my mind pops up the text. No... NO. I push it down and try and focus on the audiobook again. I can feel the haze of the alcohol taking effect as a drift in and out of torn thoughts. </p><p><His hair was the colour of ink on stained parchment of his face></p><p>...my mind drifts from the narration as it continues to play....</p><p>I wonder if they'll reply now; my thoughts overlap the narrators voice in my ears.</p><p>I quickly put the conversation on mute so i can focus solely on relaxing with my audiobook and head to bed. If i can go to bed before X time then i will get enough sleep before i have to wake up for work tomorrow morning...must concentrate on my book. Focus solely on the book....</p><p>I can feel the spirits working as they flush through my system and my brain slows down enough to switch from one train of thought to another in a slower dopey way...</p><p><Lazily, he ran a rough hand through his dark hair and glanced at the french doors.....></p><p>Slowly again my attention drifts. For a few seconds its floating high above me, not engrossed in the story that has now faded away and i can no longer hear the narration. It takes a while before it comes back down to my body and im thinking of how it tingles from the sensation of being drunk and i am suddenly aware of my new slowed conciousness. Good its working...it wont be long now ..."</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>That's all i wrote. I know its bad to self medicate with alcohol, but sometimes its just what needs to be done for a temporary reprieve. This all reminds me of some Green Day Lyrics and they couldnt be more relevant: </p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span face="Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #3c4043; font-size: 14px;">Take away the sensation inside</span></div><span face="Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif" jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #3c4043; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;"><div style="text-align: center;">Bitter sweet migraine in my head</div></span><span face="Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif" jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #3c4043; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;"><div style="text-align: center;">It's like a throbbing tooth ache of the mind</div></span><span face="Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif" jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #3c4043; font-size: 14px; max-height: 999999px;"><div style="text-align: center;">I can't take this feeling anymore</div></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9lLlV9H_fyu953ClgmmuFptWRWUwf2uxCgVhI2iC1pEtdhe2An7S6JfetLSLjzt3jaUCoP1-8vwkYVXm1QED7WP-sfAyCEKdGwHSCf4tPUZLEwodKkUhlh3YsPSwcT6y9gezsB6s9Jrt/s1265/20201004_104610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1265" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9lLlV9H_fyu953ClgmmuFptWRWUwf2uxCgVhI2iC1pEtdhe2An7S6JfetLSLjzt3jaUCoP1-8vwkYVXm1QED7WP-sfAyCEKdGwHSCf4tPUZLEwodKkUhlh3YsPSwcT6y9gezsB6s9Jrt/s320/20201004_104610.jpg" /></a></div><br />Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-44303422473312268502020-09-22T21:45:00.000+01:002020-09-22T21:45:12.174+01:00A Brush with a death sentence - A COVID Tale<p>Let me start by saying.... I do NOT have COVID. No one in my FAMILY has COVID. As far as I am aware we've never HAD COVID. And I'm pretty sure from the start of my tale, that it was never going to BE COVID-19! Now That that's settled....</p><p><br /></p><p>One thing that this pandemic has certainly pulled out of me is the crazy. My anxiety has been through the roof about contracting covid and every little thing I do has to be done with extra EXTRA precaution. I've been exhibiting very 'health anxious' behaviors that I'd never had before. But along side these new behaviors, my old habits have been creeping back again. </p><p>I said before that one of my anxious behavior 'ticks' is the picking at imperfections on my skin...and if they are close to me: other's. I have been known to pop pimples on my face and hubby's face when he gets an ingrown hair. I've tormented our poor cat, picking at scabs he's gotten from fighting other neighborhood cats. And as of late this picking behavior has extended to the impulse to pick my son's scabs as well. I really REALLY have to watch my behavior around him and in fact I call the day a win if I turn to the cat or myself rather than baby boy's afflictions. </p><p>The other anxious behavior that has come out recently has been my 'inconvenience' anxiety. I have a real big hang up about inconveniencing people. I have been known to stall a car multiple times because I'm so worried about stalling and holding up the line of cars behind me that it makes me more nervous and more likely to stall. I've also been known to fumble and drop my coin pouch and all it's contents on the floor because I'm worried that paying in change(which is all I had) would take too long that the cashier would be upset with me, I would delay those in line behind me, and just generally annoy everyone. Point is, my hang up about keeping people waiting, or holding others up, or any other type of mild convenience is a big deal for me. And when I get anxious I often make mistakes and get very depressed and hard on myself. </p><p>So, how does this fit in with COVID? We'll I'll tell you. The story actually begins with Henry starting Nursery and me going back to work. Let me just say that every nursery or day care worker will tell you that Nursery and Day Cares are a germ infested playground. Even in the welcome packet we got when we signed Henry up to Nursery said expect your child to come home with more than a few colds (and eventually their immune system will grow because of it). This being the way things are, we think that Henry did pick something up at Nursery because he started to get a snotty nose. </p><p>Jumping back to me returning to work for a second.... I had to delay my first day back in the office on Monday because someone we had been in contact with had a covid scare-- turns out.... Not covid. Just a high fever because of another medical condition. So I already inconvenienced work for the first time, just after a week of working from home. </p><p>When baby boy got sick, that meant mommy started to get sick too. Now when mommy gets sicks, she gets sick HARD. At first I was at work on Thursday, feeling like I had something stuck in my throat all day and trying to wiggle it out by clearing my throat continuously. But then when I was at home and I could cough and hack and clear it properly, it turned out that what I was faced with was a case of acute bronchitis. It was bad enough not to want to spread my germs around the office but I had a clear head so I told work that I was able to power through and work from home on Friday. Strike two for inconveniencing work in my book. </p><p>The whole weekend I stayed in with baby boy, and tried to rest as much as I could but when it came to Sunday night and the coughing up green phlegm hadn't stopped it was time to tell work that I was going to take Monday as a sick day. One more day and it should be all fine. It still makes me nervous and I count that as a strike three for inconveniencing work. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdhihFXJI7u8IosYucYV5hs6Rnm-NKhJW1FgI3j5Hy8zAqA63aRh4ivspRB8qGoq7MGAh-JRiuKRpL5uTNShjVGwxbXRWqpD0Qv5QqjlUJWvg0OVmJ_R5RJLG6J-f1mnUplXjKQYOA1W9-/s2048/20200921_101009.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdhihFXJI7u8IosYucYV5hs6Rnm-NKhJW1FgI3j5Hy8zAqA63aRh4ivspRB8qGoq7MGAh-JRiuKRpL5uTNShjVGwxbXRWqpD0Qv5QqjlUJWvg0OVmJ_R5RJLG6J-f1mnUplXjKQYOA1W9-/w400-h300/20200921_101009.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Well, word got around that I wasn't feeling well and Rob got sent home from work Sunday night and was told that he couldn't come back until I took a COVID test and it was negative. So, begrudgingly (cause I'll reiterate...I'm pretty sure it wasn't COVID. just my stupid broncitis flaring up!) I did my adulting thing-- booked a covid test for Monday morning, and emailed Nursery to say Henry wasn't going to be in for his all day session-- and then had a mental breakdown over the numerous accounts of inconvenience this has caused those around me: <p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZyDZHNEpfkjJAetgVdP7oLUM9IU6AGR10I3X0k-bb1sDAaLYvbKSDRaXQeE99r_LRPFpBn_r6_pPXGsYG9DAHhHBAcQwp7CWPSe-7NrvJ4MUV6vfZTi9RpEbuQZWJt5VIRpY30pt7Qqsh/s2048/20200921_100518.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZyDZHNEpfkjJAetgVdP7oLUM9IU6AGR10I3X0k-bb1sDAaLYvbKSDRaXQeE99r_LRPFpBn_r6_pPXGsYG9DAHhHBAcQwp7CWPSe-7NrvJ4MUV6vfZTi9RpEbuQZWJt5VIRpY30pt7Qqsh/s320/20200921_100518.jpg" /></a>1. Rob's work<br />2. The worry that if I DID have COVID, then Rob's health would also be at risk<br />3. The Nursery for letting them know so late<br />4. Henry, for taking him away from Nursery aka interaction with other people<br />5. My Work--seriously, by this point I feel like it's just taking the piss--Strike Four, and possibly 5, 6, 7 etc if I had to self isolate for any reason <br />6. Me, Rob and Henry for having to take Monday to drive to Wales to get a covid test<br />7. Anyone I've been in contact with over the past two weeks if the test DID come back positive<br />8. Subjecting myself to sticking a swab up my nose/throat<br />9.Subjecting baby boy the the torture of sticking a swap up both his nostrils</p><p>10. Wasting Government resources</p><p>That's the catch 22 of it all. If you tell people you're getting a COVID test, you feel like a leper because if you're getting a test you MUST have COVID. If you get a test and you're negative, it's STILL seen as a bad thing cause you've just wasted a government resource and took a test away from someone who could have actually needed it. </p><p>You can't win with this Covid thing. </p><p>So now that I've inconvienced loads of people, wasted government resources and had a few days of hacking and gaging my guts out to get rid of this thing, I'm back to work because guess what.... my test came back Negative. No COVID. </p><p>Bloody thing needs to go away.....I've had it, officially, with anything COVID adjacent. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-22928649375840324922020-09-15T19:59:00.004+01:002020-09-15T20:02:00.108+01:00Back to the Office<p>This is something that I have been dreading for a very long time: returning to the office. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4rrs_44EGJbKyDP6kqFVnIBumOCvuY3AR9GLi5BRreb1TZL1FaUTybjthz1fWA9VTajeWwvZUfztbc0o36Ci-DDPYEyY5gsS8PuE2iUIkNzIHQJqYq4K4EKjXwU0-WK-UXFh24iaO6EsO/s720/FB_IMG_1597782114031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4rrs_44EGJbKyDP6kqFVnIBumOCvuY3AR9GLi5BRreb1TZL1FaUTybjthz1fWA9VTajeWwvZUfztbc0o36Ci-DDPYEyY5gsS8PuE2iUIkNzIHQJqYq4K4EKjXwU0-WK-UXFh24iaO6EsO/w200-h200/FB_IMG_1597782114031.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p>Not only was I not keen to come off of maternity and get back to work (i miss my mush mush!), but I certainly wasn’t expecting returning to work in the middle of a pandemic. My first week back luckily i worked from home, but this week was the “Reoccupation” of the Registry office- full stop. (Today was my first day back in the actual office due to my own personal circumstance.)</p><p><br /></p><p>Leading up to this, i had many trepidations surrounding going back into the office. The way it will be is that every other person in the office will be working from home, while the first half work in the office...this way the people who a “In" will be spaced apart. This will happen for 2 week....9 days to be exact with everyone on Friday of the 2nd week working from home to allow the cleaners to do a deep clean. This will also leave 72 hours between the first group of people occupying the office and the 2nd set of people(the ones working from home to start with) who will occupy the office for the following 2 weeks (or 9 days). And repeat. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn3DzolPMqVuZaKhgAVq3wPgGhbYx7N3HANcdIhISTdXJ6SfPT6B9kuICoJ-hOr4fh281SOfufkStfKSXfO79T_hG_deJGRwhUuspCTqWrKrR4kvd6OtoqzV1-BDvmCHvrFCDOrB49Uq6z/s834/20200915_142205.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="486" data-original-width="834" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn3DzolPMqVuZaKhgAVq3wPgGhbYx7N3HANcdIhISTdXJ6SfPT6B9kuICoJ-hOr4fh281SOfufkStfKSXfO79T_hG_deJGRwhUuspCTqWrKrR4kvd6OtoqzV1-BDvmCHvrFCDOrB49Uq6z/w400-h233/20200915_142205.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Two days before reoccupation i saw a risk assessment for the office as well as general university guidelines: </p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Wear masks inside while walking around</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Use the hand sanitizer provided at entrances</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Wash hands often and for 20 seconds each time</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Blue roll and antibacterial spray provided in each classroom and in the office. </p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Wipe down desk and work area at the start and end of every day</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Keep your distance </p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Keep left when walking down corridors</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Communication should be through phone, email or video call</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If meeting face to face, keep distance, wear masks and limit to 15minutes</p><p><br /></p><p>In theory it checks out, but my anxiety brain had more than a little freak out about things. How often are things(door handles, bannisters, etc) cleaned? When will bathrooms be cleaned? How many ppl are allowed in the bathroom at a time? Will we be able to use the kitchens? If so, how often are those cleaned? How many people are allowed in the kitchen at one time? Will there be proper ventilation in the office? How deep are the offices going to be cleaned every fortnight before the swap over of staff? Where will I be able to eat my lunch? Are the outside benches clean? How much cleaning supplies will be offered for us to use in the office? Do i have the right to refuse meeting anyone in person? Who’s going to be la-dee-da on the rules? Can i avoid them? Will i catch COVID? What will i do if i do get it? What if i pass it on to Henry? Will i show symptoms? How will i know? </p><p><br /></p><p>And a myriad of other thoughts. On the surface, i reckon these are normal things to be worried about in a pandemic. I got some of these questions answered the next day but there were too many variables that didn’t add up. Since i was due to come back into the office this week and there was no way around it ive adopted the philosophy that the only one i can count on is me. So i took precautions to make sure all of my bases were covered. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoVVzdks7khQb7ey4gvo7ppYobVXcA0Gy2jRWsbm4HOTd_GIU34A3IxduCIVQzkPrRC-wwhT1xuAL16TMwEIU1e2gyiDh3BijmCRvD1XEiOtI3-YdyBGElJeSHpgNaZoJORjW9fb2C_cx/s1080/IMG_20200915_070621_030.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoVVzdks7khQb7ey4gvo7ppYobVXcA0Gy2jRWsbm4HOTd_GIU34A3IxduCIVQzkPrRC-wwhT1xuAL16TMwEIU1e2gyiDh3BijmCRvD1XEiOtI3-YdyBGElJeSHpgNaZoJORjW9fb2C_cx/s320/IMG_20200915_070621_030.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAUoOoqlpr8QyRqvWvNtOUT3jigZLspHlMTYeTUqaAwYBSOPW-c_Ops-0afhHU9zLQ-3dJ_UKwXg7Gq8M-pSaGfQLLr_q6Qcyj5Ur3QmrD8kJrJnS5NR6bN0YhByyBGEltik4eOog6VfIZ/s1080/IMG_20200915_070621_011.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAUoOoqlpr8QyRqvWvNtOUT3jigZLspHlMTYeTUqaAwYBSOPW-c_Ops-0afhHU9zLQ-3dJ_UKwXg7Gq8M-pSaGfQLLr_q6Qcyj5Ur3QmrD8kJrJnS5NR6bN0YhByyBGEltik4eOog6VfIZ/s320/IMG_20200915_070621_011.jpg" /></a></div><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Office supplies...my own paper, notebook and pens. There is no sharing. No chance of cross contamination. </p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>5 facemasks: a new one for every day of the week, until they can be laundered</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Personal hand sanitizer dispenser.....</p><p><br /></p><p>The AWESOME thing about my personal anxiety is that some of my physical symptoms are increased heart rate, sweating, AND impulsive touching of face, chewing on my nails/cuticles, and picking my spots, scabs and other skin imperfections. Now what SHOULDN’T i be doing during a pandemic? ANSWER...all of those things. But being in a pandemic makes me do these behaviours exponentially more depending on how anxious i get. Hence i will be using a bucket ton of hand sanitizer</p><p><br /></p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Measuring tape and some painters tape: this is so that i can mark out 1Metre around my desk so i know when to tell people to get out of my bubble. </p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A picnic blanket: to sit on outside on the grass when i have my lunch</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The little Book of Mental Health: in case i need advice</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Antibacterial Wipes: these are mostly so that when i do need to use the bathroom i can wipe the door handle, lock, the toilet seat, the flush button, faucet and soap dispenser. I’ll also take these with me when i need to sanitize and there aren’t supplies provided by the university. </p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A variety of cloths to use in conjunction with...</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Anti bacterial spray: because wiping things down twice a day will not be enough</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A plastic bag to put the used cloths into and take home to wash</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My own water bottle</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A back up water bottle to refill</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Lunch, including snacks and soda so there’s no reason to need to visit the on campus shop or canteen. </p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Coffee, Tea, Milk again...so i don’t need to go out of the office for my caffeine fix</p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My own Mug, spoon, and fork that i will take home and wash every day. </p><p>•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A small tin can to use as a desk trashcan: so i don’t have to keep walking through the office to throw trash away</p><p><br /></p><p>Everything that I’ve taken in to work with me is to ensure i am as safe and cautious as i can be. Some people might think im over doing it, but the thing about anxiety is that there is no rhyme or reason to it. Even though the risk assessment did its job in stating that security measures had been put in place, i still had a huge distrust that this was the case and that id be safe enough to return to work.</p><p>I fully expect that depending on how anxious i get, i may be spending a third of every office working day physically combating COVID.....wiping down desk, phone, computers, sanitizing hands, washing hands, wiping down toilets or door handles, or anything else that gets touched, putting facemasks on or off, walking further to avoid people. There is no knowing what is going to happen and seeing as how i will be sharing the campus and our building with staff and students i feel i need to be extra vigilant. </p><p><br /></p><p>So, how was my first day back in the office? Quite frankly...interesting. </p><p><br /></p><p>I made sure to allow loads of time to account for travel/traffic, parking, getting my staff card activated, setting up my computer and just generally getting my bearings. I got there 30min early which is what i hoped. Also it helped because I noticed while i was driving that my trousers were inside out...so getting there early gave me time to change too.</p><p>Besides the trouser mishap, the 2nd pitfall?... I had to walk to reception to get my ID card activated since it wouldn’t work at the key activation point in our building. </p><p>Next was tackling the desk. There was hand sanitizer, paper towels and antibacterial spray in the office(although i couldn’t find it to begin with cause i was looking for stations on the wall, but they were on the ends of desks in the centre of the room). I wiped down EVERYTHING. And in fact, i dont think my station had been cleaned at all by cleaning staff over the weekend because there was a lot of dust build-up. I felt bad using up loads of the communal office sanitation supplies that i ended up using my own...which is why i brought it in as well...i wanted to make sure i wasn’t bogarting the supplies, knowing how much id want to keep my station clean. </p><p>I marked down where 1metre (6ft) was with tape on the carpet surrounding my desk. Luckily I’m in a corner, by the windows, so im the furthest away from anyone else, with fresh air, and only 1 way for anyone to approach me. So if anyone does drop in unexpected, if they reach that 1metre line, that is the NOPE ZONE. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpD7cmcKlbBspA0_kSCRWJOUhtmqP_2SN5A_NtCELYc3Ozkgx2BjG2669mo4uK0H4plMLwUMROH8tpl6sJTm0543oS0QTVLtRGmudSOKETr31P7_EbrGBbkKUmm1cUDD7wxUONAPEEjZ08/s2048/20200915_124810.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpD7cmcKlbBspA0_kSCRWJOUhtmqP_2SN5A_NtCELYc3Ozkgx2BjG2669mo4uK0H4plMLwUMROH8tpl6sJTm0543oS0QTVLtRGmudSOKETr31P7_EbrGBbkKUmm1cUDD7wxUONAPEEjZ08/s320/20200915_124810.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>After all the COVID measures were in place, i set up my laptop...but low and behold, nothing was working. I could log on to my computer, but i couldn’t open ANYTHING up because it said my internet wasn’t connected. Basically everything on the network requires internet connection. So I spent the better part of the day waiting....and waiting...and on the phone to IT to get my internet to play ball so that i could do some actual work. </p><p><br /></p><p>The only GOOD part of today was a visit from a <b>new</b> Campus Cat. Oooooooh! </p><p>The windows being open...people in the office started hearing a wailing noise. It turns out it was a very loud Himalayan Cat that was wandering in the outdoor space between our office and the next open plan office about 7/8? metres away. Not only because i love cats, but because this cat was causing such a disturbance, i decided to don my face mask and go visit the kitty. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyME8oMkxFaSGGXO2gK8yZ0B3MVJhbI5nbTf_P4Q-MVW-YwOhmUWEWtw2Ae1DFnZPDTnKwGIpZ1uNoLHDZitw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p>I went round to the outside, called the kitty to me, and they followed me as i lead it out of that space and away from the offices so it wouldn’t disturb anyone. Then when we got far enough away the kitty laid down and started rolling around for me to pet them. I gave them a cheeky little stroke or two before sneaking back to the office. The kitty was SOOOOO friendly, the trouble wasn’t getting them to follow me away from the office windows, it was getting it NOT to follow me back into the building!</p><p><br /></p><p>Anywho...I washed my hands after petting kitty and went back into the office to sit and do nothing again. *sigh* This being my first day back i have no idea if this cat will hang around, or if it was a one off but it was a lovely addition to a complicated day. If this Himalayan kitty cat will be making a frequent appearance on campus, then A) I best think of what to call them, and B) professor Toby Paws(the actual resident Uni Cat-with its own Instagram account might i add....) better watch out!</p><div><br /></div>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-1018705389178041622020-09-13T12:32:00.004+01:002020-09-13T12:32:38.907+01:00Creation of the Quiet Book<p>Over maternity leave i decided to create a Quiet Book for Henry. It's comprised of soft felt pages and everything is either tacked in with glue, Velcro, snaps, string, or sewn in. And let me tell you...there was LOTS of pieces to tack in. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBs_yu4tzDDSa049an08tgz-BJQz6CQd0vSSgUas3xLiEOEu5GsrDXl0yzSuIwMwTO7ovB4g3jChxpF5XKklJ9OOxGj24CedsIoKS7uHaxtilHzXOBIzXZcbw4Rphra5EFPK_C_SwlpCrH/s2048/20200905_230445.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBs_yu4tzDDSa049an08tgz-BJQz6CQd0vSSgUas3xLiEOEu5GsrDXl0yzSuIwMwTO7ovB4g3jChxpF5XKklJ9OOxGj24CedsIoKS7uHaxtilHzXOBIzXZcbw4Rphra5EFPK_C_SwlpCrH/w500-h375/20200905_230445.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The majority of the pieces were hot glued or sewn in really well to make sure that they could withstand lots of toddler pulling and picking....cause if it's one thing toddlers do best, its to fiddle with things until they're destroyed completely (not unlike puppies actually🤔). Since there was a ton of sewing and hot gluing to do i had to work on the book while the small child wasn't around during the day, which only left when daddy took Henry out for a few hours or when Henry went down for a long nap.</div><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8Ej_Yswa8WcTCvepKgMFPv7Lvz5nRfNdeOS2vceH1Rh7JGdz75lIg3QpuZxpyu5nHuzUJs7Z2aadoOePLhyQsqLJ3LpY1de9NTFv7g0XpPZ1QE7GDiz2VE9-NgFhXhvAJoxB-uEBMt0x/s2048/20200905_230536.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8Ej_Yswa8WcTCvepKgMFPv7Lvz5nRfNdeOS2vceH1Rh7JGdz75lIg3QpuZxpyu5nHuzUJs7Z2aadoOePLhyQsqLJ3LpY1de9NTFv7g0XpPZ1QE7GDiz2VE9-NgFhXhvAJoxB-uEBMt0x/s320/20200905_230536.jpg" width="320" /></a>I tired to include a range of learning potentials (learning colours, numbers, life skills etc) for later on, but for now Henry will just be very textile as well as looking at pretty colours. </p><p>The rundown of pages/learning: </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpafr7mCl0Rh-ayHdxFzPWbdvFFyCKyRRaiEX8A3HpVJk1McCwnIzKqyHm3KxTwrSrsFIh6ap8CTGJ9FfcAKG6BbMP6awks0gUZjIjJ_x0sjsy7She7z-4pbU_mTCGnCbeZ2wP594NA5P/s2048/20200905_230630.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpafr7mCl0Rh-ayHdxFzPWbdvFFyCKyRRaiEX8A3HpVJk1McCwnIzKqyHm3KxTwrSrsFIh6ap8CTGJ9FfcAKG6BbMP6awks0gUZjIjJ_x0sjsy7She7z-4pbU_mTCGnCbeZ2wP594NA5P/s320/20200905_230630.jpg" width="320" /></a><li>Textile page (buttons, a snap, velcro, yarn, zipper, sponge, rubber shapes)<br /></li><li>Matching colours</li><li>Matching Shapes</li><li>Abacus w/ beads</li><li>I spy with my little eye </li><li>Right v Left</li><li>Big to Small shapes</li><li>Learning colours</li><li>Counting</li><li>Moods Page</li><li>Name page</li><li>Learning how to dress</li><li>Laundry/washing pretend play</li><li>Braiding Hair</li><li>Tic Tac Toe/ Noughts and Crosses</li></ul><div><br /></div><div>It was quite a feat trying to fit in all the little pieces, lots of cutting felt, gluing, drawing faces, making 'clothes', sewing in sections... but I finally finished it! And already henry has fun flipping through the thick book like felt pages and feeling all the little intricate pages mommy hand crafted for him. Whether or not he uses it as it's intended for learning as he gets older will be another story entirely. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjobWvqsd4F9CY_H0XQlXJpoHAD0uZva5c9YSo8gI2y8s1IXvQjN3yzCsXxVBF9Q-3t4gaYCOuvlDDrhLAfluleWdGokOiHhRBi42tBd05wLSC0Garzjg9_YkPyAsjXlmRf4bNbN_BYDBDD/s2048/20200905_230713.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjobWvqsd4F9CY_H0XQlXJpoHAD0uZva5c9YSo8gI2y8s1IXvQjN3yzCsXxVBF9Q-3t4gaYCOuvlDDrhLAfluleWdGokOiHhRBi42tBd05wLSC0Garzjg9_YkPyAsjXlmRf4bNbN_BYDBDD/w400-h300/20200905_230713.jpg" width="400" /></a>One of the sections I debated on was something I would never have thought about consciously before: What colour felt do I cut out for the faces? Up until a few months ago, it wouldn't have been a question and I would have automatically just put in a beige felt face. Thanks to the massive media hype around Black Lives Matter, I've been putting in the time to think about my world view, how I can broaden it, and what I can do to change things. </div><div><br /></div><div>One of the things I learned from actor Mehcad Brookes was that change starts with the collective consciousness. In the simplest terms, to make outward change, we first need to change the way people think. Everyone has unconscious bias about a myriad of things--these are things we have an innate opinion about because it's been made socially normal through our upbringing. A few good examples of that would be: </div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Different jobs men hold or women hold (ie: Men are doctors, Women are nurses. Men are Builders, Women are ballerinas)</li><li>Gender Stereotypes (Boys play sports, Girls play with dolls....or Women should be pretty, men should be strong)</li><li>Cultural Misconceptions (Spanish people are Lazy, Canadians are too nice, the British don't care about dental hygiene, Germans are humorless, Jamaicans love getting high, etc)</li><li>Thinking all people over a certain age are frail and incapable of looking after themselves</li><li>Racial Bias (Black people are great at sports, white people are racists, Asian people are intelligent, Hispanic are illegal immigrants, etc)</li></ul></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlYiKdaTotDw-GsKwhH9zYWpX50oAcddRKHhTEyFQcP4x8ND-k_JprhSvzg9nCuvrY-FkyzFHl-WIpRvvRLJUWz09S0jsPa-qN4ZkBz7tRgpUDANlzG6NzJhtcCEXEeBvfq3ONl1efjy6/s2048/IMG_20200913_090805_869.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlYiKdaTotDw-GsKwhH9zYWpX50oAcddRKHhTEyFQcP4x8ND-k_JprhSvzg9nCuvrY-FkyzFHl-WIpRvvRLJUWz09S0jsPa-qN4ZkBz7tRgpUDANlzG6NzJhtcCEXEeBvfq3ONl1efjy6/w400-h300/IMG_20200913_090805_869.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />I've been challenging these social norms and stopping more to think about them--"okay, well why is my first thought X, can it be Y instead?" Breaking the cycle of these 'social norms' and allowing room to grow is a big part of changing the world. <br /><br />So, whilst I was making my Quiet Book and I had a few pages that would feature faces I thought to myself...I would normally put in little white boy faces because Henry is a white boy. But could I do it differently? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />The answer was undoubtedly YES! And why not? At the moment Henry's exposure to people of colour will be minimal because 99.9% of the people he sees on a daily basis are white-mummy, daddy, granny, granddad, mummy/daddy's close friends, Nursery carers, etc. I can't control outside factors--what people say or do concerning POC, but I can control how we in this family treat the issue of it. So that Henry can see that diversity is normal and 100% okay (hopefully to counteract any outside negative influence) I'm making efforts to grant him positive exposure to things he wouldn't normally come across. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOmae8bZXE2oPWF_ujlZB2yNm1PP0_HEKvrIrVmaCfrWG5_JGfcrbVirb-vO2ZRckv67HkAGlpqc1PR2Vbxs716zQpmfpbBbWR1ssvDDomQ4yIJovO96Hj4w6FCsPI1HPuTaTRNrbe7jr/s500/muertos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOmae8bZXE2oPWF_ujlZB2yNm1PP0_HEKvrIrVmaCfrWG5_JGfcrbVirb-vO2ZRckv67HkAGlpqc1PR2Vbxs716zQpmfpbBbWR1ssvDDomQ4yIJovO96Hj4w6FCsPI1HPuTaTRNrbe7jr/w164-h164/muertos.jpg" width="164" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVMv2rRJk-TmEeMNlg_poPW5oQ5dR04jDGj33tQfTcK3l02RA8nwx6pDmB8yEYpvNjYqE8fHQOS5C103ziQddjoI0BIka5fg-zme6X_F2vatPmsOchLyNbZAYP5ujWdtl-vARGE-zYnm2/s2048/20200625_093643.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVMv2rRJk-TmEeMNlg_poPW5oQ5dR04jDGj33tQfTcK3l02RA8nwx6pDmB8yEYpvNjYqE8fHQOS5C103ziQddjoI0BIka5fg-zme6X_F2vatPmsOchLyNbZAYP5ujWdtl-vARGE-zYnm2/s320/20200625_093643.jpg" width="320" /></a>I'm firstly leading by example by checking myself (and Rob) for any lingering bias and correcting this behavior so Henry can't copy it. I'm making more effort to buy culturally diverse books, including some amazing finds from independent authors so that he can have an array of protagonists to follow and learn about some of the amazing cultures that the world has to offer. And, I've opted for NOT putting the face of a pale blond girl (which is what my default would have been) to braid her hair in Henry's quite book. It's a minor change and it doesn't really matter who's hair is getting braided but it's one opportunity to diversify Henry's 'feed'. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Now on to my next homemade project for Henry--The dreaded 3 page cross stitch that will take forever to complete. I'm hoping that I can at least manage the bottom half of the cross stitch by the time we start marking Henry's height. I'm back to work full time now, so that may be a pipe dream. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">More about returning to work in an upcoming blog. For now, I'm signing off!</div>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-90351786174398712432020-09-07T21:52:00.005+01:002020-09-07T21:52:57.923+01:00All the Things that Ive Done<p>As my Maternity leave ends and I'm headed back to work tomorrow I've had a look back at all the things I've been able to accomplish in the last year. I know it might sound silly, and that raising a child should be reward enough but I'm a very visual, list checking type person. I prefer to see things laid out in a list and feeling a sense of accomplishment when I'm able to tick things off as I've done them. I get immense gratification from doing so and it makes me feel worth something when I'm able to display my accomplishments like this. </p><p><br /></p><p>So, for no other reason than to lay it all down on paper (or a digital format in this case) for myself, here is a list of all the things that I've done. </p><p><br /></p><p>My Prenatal / Postnatal / Maternity leave / Quarantine Combination Accomplishments List:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sOvC6EV7cCQdfIUs6LuWsPP238BdE2Fw4QVWZsetu6yNyPysUD-bAsVdA2M-vID8TCVUySO26JMTcsy_f2JImzCkAB46Pl91DiMUxS4Srd0TBakM9b2FLVSq2cjg4oHJcdTLWlDJwUQI/s1920/InShot_20200906_201740832.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sOvC6EV7cCQdfIUs6LuWsPP238BdE2Fw4QVWZsetu6yNyPysUD-bAsVdA2M-vID8TCVUySO26JMTcsy_f2JImzCkAB46Pl91DiMUxS4Srd0TBakM9b2FLVSq2cjg4oHJcdTLWlDJwUQI/s320/InShot_20200906_201740832.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgzykGWPuUj5byUsSG16hAUA4jDy1RJtVsLb8qrm_cM4HoqoZh4ODg2pN77h5Me72DiZXw9U3_Xa397h5coIzTLFF2nBQbIalvEexEYvvYkSw70o97PdUhLqBwAvt3M1OOITZKBOLLGr6/s1920/InShot_20200906_201936156.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgzykGWPuUj5byUsSG16hAUA4jDy1RJtVsLb8qrm_cM4HoqoZh4ODg2pN77h5Me72DiZXw9U3_Xa397h5coIzTLFF2nBQbIalvEexEYvvYkSw70o97PdUhLqBwAvt3M1OOITZKBOLLGr6/s320/InShot_20200906_201936156.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>Of course the greatest thing during this time has been to be home and see Henry grow up and help him achieve new things...speaking of which, baby boy did his first full day at nursery today! I think he enjoied himself way too much and his key worker said he did extremely well.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FRJZozj9UbUy5gKKag0IzIpjFkTndyjykfDVjpjFIV3zvt5rigZyANzPpJCrqnVYOfvI7IJO3Z2zYB_t2sl2PmpUK87Xt_f51EnT_gUtkFxuFgektR2VslWI-9pZP3tfRItSLmVUBhJV/s2048/20200907_073706.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FRJZozj9UbUy5gKKag0IzIpjFkTndyjykfDVjpjFIV3zvt5rigZyANzPpJCrqnVYOfvI7IJO3Z2zYB_t2sl2PmpUK87Xt_f51EnT_gUtkFxuFgektR2VslWI-9pZP3tfRItSLmVUBhJV/w469-h625/20200907_073706.jpg" width="469" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1V9ehXA6y22aiaNakHcqjvU12mD33hWbeGQUNBtJHhbiGf-utMUuTgXEzNsgaOQQoT8yGQQliATc1c0P7jIY6klyNmEc08GNRlHytrolK-10gFK6tyqCIS52lg3rqmep7lL_jrt3QwCxI/s2048/20200907_073720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1V9ehXA6y22aiaNakHcqjvU12mD33hWbeGQUNBtJHhbiGf-utMUuTgXEzNsgaOQQoT8yGQQliATc1c0P7jIY6klyNmEc08GNRlHytrolK-10gFK6tyqCIS52lg3rqmep7lL_jrt3QwCxI/s320/20200907_073720.jpg" /></a></div><br /> My BIG boy ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤<p></p>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-73504953126849275052020-08-30T13:53:00.001+01:002020-08-30T13:53:32.389+01:00A Typical Day in the Vidler HouseholdSo, it's going to be boring mom stuff again, but hey...what else do I do all day except be full time mommy!?! And there's limited time before I go back to work so I've gotta get my mommy rants out now. <div><br /></div><div>So without further ado...</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gs-f_52b_JFH1C39bhxOx0CbqIw7Mh3hti-zLk5q-wUAEsD8c1WqeFnjVGOC3mA_MCtZQj1hlVRu8OrllSPLc7pfINVyinlOuMN1ArYn95eODEAkSQOuCGctBDvU7xbpTauPHeH9neUi/s1600/IMG-20200711-WA0002.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gs-f_52b_JFH1C39bhxOx0CbqIw7Mh3hti-zLk5q-wUAEsD8c1WqeFnjVGOC3mA_MCtZQj1hlVRu8OrllSPLc7pfINVyinlOuMN1ArYn95eODEAkSQOuCGctBDvU7xbpTauPHeH9neUi/w307-h410/IMG-20200711-WA0002.jpg" width="307" /></a></div><div>I have a great kid. And I know all the moms say that, but we've been really lucky that Henry is so chill. We've been told as much, many many times. He hardly cries/makes a fuss and if he does there's a very good reason for it. That's not to say that there aren't some hard times, but very rarely are we at wits end with Henry... yet. The toddler years are still to come. The jury is still out. </div><div><br /></div><div>I thought I'd give a little insight to how the inner workings of the Vidler house have been over my maternity leave and over quarantine and just raising Henry in general. It's all new for us, so right now it's a novelty when even the most mundane of things occur. I'll take you through the highlights of the Good and the Bad (I don't think there's been any ugly...maybe my anxiety days but that's a different matter). These events are typical of the Vidler household, but not all these things will always occur in one day... obviously. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><b>Morning Routine: </b></h3><div><u><b><br /></b></u></div><div><u><b>THE GOOD:</b></u></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-44LDRYT2cIijKrW_r2uTUTS_DtE-dvMZFaDtmozgmSihH2353rDHnoOXCL2EM26x4I9uMlE2zKMf0lgcMb3ibn-qC32lAkPazVTXzXvgZsbU9jhgTby0NN8t3cHXgVl9HBfP_YZHClnp/s2048/20200722_173141.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-44LDRYT2cIijKrW_r2uTUTS_DtE-dvMZFaDtmozgmSihH2353rDHnoOXCL2EM26x4I9uMlE2zKMf0lgcMb3ibn-qC32lAkPazVTXzXvgZsbU9jhgTby0NN8t3cHXgVl9HBfP_YZHClnp/w308-h410/20200722_173141.jpg" width="308" /></a><li>SLEEP IN UNTIL 8am! This is a miracle if this happens....or it's Rob's day off and he gets up with smushy first and lets mommy sleep a bit longer. :) Sometimes it's not always a sleep-in day though. Sometimes if mommy can sleep in until 7am without any middle of the night interruptions, then it can start off as a good day. In that case, it's usually the coo sounds that smush makes and giggles in his crib that let me know he's awake. </li><li>Sometimes(whether it's immediately after waking, or a few hours later) we wake up daddy to have some morning cuddles. I love seeing Rob and Henry together in our bed. It just warms the heart that even though Rob is so tired, he's still a great dad in giving smush his last leg of energy.</li><li>It's also always a good day when I can go downstairs after waking up, put Smush down on his playmate to peacefully make a cup of coffee & mix up a bottle of formula before he kicks up a fuss. If the kitty meows to come in straight away, this usually means that the presence of the cat distracts baby boy long enough for mommy to do her morning routine and maybe even sit and have a few sips of coffee before it kicks off. </li></ul></div><div><b><u>THE BAD:</u></b></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>6AM WAKE UP CALL. Yep. We went from having the perfect week old baby who slept for 8 hours straight until 8am, to now the new normal of waking up to babbles and cries at 6am. seriously...no matter how late we get this kid to fall asleep, inevitably he will wake up at 6am...or before. WIDE awake and hyper. (Those moments I resign to the fact that I am up until Rob can let me go back to sleep or smush goes down for his first nap.) If we're lucky we get about half hour of babbling before he gets fussy and one of us has to actually get out of bed. On the odd occasion we get a screaming/crying baby (no babbling to start with) & we guess it's because he's had a baby nightmare, or he bumped his head or leg against the cot railing...even tho we have a bumper there 😑 </li><li>Henry is so needy that he doesn't want to be put down so I can make him a bottle and me coffee....so there's either a crying boy, or mommy has to juggle holding him and mixing up a bottle one handed. </li><li>One step further, we've had a few occasions where not only is the boy fussy, but the cat has either brought in something dead through the window or made a mess in the living room and I'm forced to play Nanny and Housemaid before 'normal work hours'.</li></ul></div><p style="text-align: left;"><b><u>THE UGLY:</u></b></p><p style="text-align: left;">This isn't typical, but I've had more of these episodes during quarantine than I have in a whole year, which is something worth mentioning when I talk about the day to day. There are days where I can barely function....but 'MomLife' makes me go through the motions. </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-nUSZOeIH8qyVTMKvkR7qLAjRGeBXM1mz9d3yj4hdBng4Z63G0jWBYJ78V5nV4k2Uxi8x4W1qPhwybmZ46eoQlFcaQd5ZwQY-sykl73D-ONGgydK-lVIJKo3mfCpbQyOajxh0n1D7pP5/s2048/20200727_142808.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-nUSZOeIH8qyVTMKvkR7qLAjRGeBXM1mz9d3yj4hdBng4Z63G0jWBYJ78V5nV4k2Uxi8x4W1qPhwybmZ46eoQlFcaQd5ZwQY-sykl73D-ONGgydK-lVIJKo3mfCpbQyOajxh0n1D7pP5/w307-h410/20200727_142808.jpg" width="307" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the cat knew I couldn't cope<br />and came upstairs to bed with me. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;">....I wake up, depressed and sleep deprived wanting to stay in bed, but Henry needs me. I drag myself out of bed, change him, feed him...basically the bare minimum, then leave him to play on his play mat all day watching him, staring blankly from the sofa drinking cups of coffee until he cries for something he needs. When Rob gets home, I go straight back to bed, or plug in my headphones to drown out the world until I feel marginally better.</p><p style="text-align: left;">It's weird, when I get in my 'low mood' I go almost catatonic. I don't take care of myself except for brushing my teeth, drinking coffee and peeing. Honestly, I don't shower, I don't get dressed, i don't brush my hair, I forget to eat. I only brush my teeth because I have an anxiety thing about my mouth that's hard to explain. Getting downstairs with Henry is a struggle and doing basic things like changing a nappy or mixing up a bottle of formula is maximum effort, but I do it because I know I have to. And if I admit defeat and can't even do the bare minimum then the voices of my inner saboteur come creeping in to say what a $£*% mom I am. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">I'm thankful that these types of days are rare because of my medication and coping techniques, but this pandemic has definitely kicked it up a notch in terms of mental breakdowns. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">MOVING ON.....</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: left;"><b>During the Day:</b></h3><div><b><u><br /></u></b></div><div><b><u>THE GOOD:</u></b></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWGHdVRFRGTcRktk4UA2wogYYD_jKM-c0ZvpkkePGjERH8h30REy-EiC8YNNZ42hS_QTAheKD0kIVkxbMskgoJDpVm6ovWAq_X3rfrfiaynsyk96Jg_1X4DwFKbSVujJVU78CtQvXK8tB/s1127/IMG_20200817_173104_563.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1127" data-original-width="901" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWGHdVRFRGTcRktk4UA2wogYYD_jKM-c0ZvpkkePGjERH8h30REy-EiC8YNNZ42hS_QTAheKD0kIVkxbMskgoJDpVm6ovWAq_X3rfrfiaynsyk96Jg_1X4DwFKbSVujJVU78CtQvXK8tB/w262-h328/IMG_20200817_173104_563.jpg" width="262" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Henry's 1st time at the park w/ Daddy<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><ul style="text-align: left;"><br /><li>If Rob is off, sometimes he likes to take Henry out for a walk around the neighborhood--which means that although a walk would be good for me, I hang back at the house. I take the opportunity to give myself a child free-self care hour. This usually consists of Yoga, blogging, crafting or reading a book in absolute peace. It may not seem like much, but an hour of doing ANYTHING uninterrupted for a mom is pure heaven. </li><li>Naps- This can go one of two ways on a good day. Either smushy goes down for 2 hours and I'm able to sleep for that amount of time too, or it gives me the opportunity to have child-free hours to get chores done(quietly), or 'me' time. </li><li>YARD TIME: It's been hard during the pandemic to make sure Henry gets OUT of the house. One of the ways that has been consistent since lock down(and since he could sit upright by himself) is that when I need to hang laundry Henry gets put on a mat in the shade in the back garden. He's fascinated with outside and will look at everything in wonderment and giggle at anything that moves. Sometimes we play peak-a-boo behind the bigger towels/sheets on the laundry line. <br /><br /></li><li>Being able to see people! <br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclCwopSVuorm-N8eFQF05z_IO9q1UAc5t5z1Gh63wmHEWjG38Wv9ZAzHIFmfsMOvjc4wZGuKDXpY7AgCJkvccyCit_bW2i7yVGTvyPa0PXtSscjxcPKBaA2Ql6mwWiAqHgbdECqf65n-P/s2048/20200722_162803_01.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="513" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclCwopSVuorm-N8eFQF05z_IO9q1UAc5t5z1Gh63wmHEWjG38Wv9ZAzHIFmfsMOvjc4wZGuKDXpY7AgCJkvccyCit_bW2i7yVGTvyPa0PXtSscjxcPKBaA2Ql6mwWiAqHgbdECqf65n-P/w385-h513/20200722_162803_01.jpg" width="385" /></a></div></li></ul>It's definitely been a highlight now that lock down restrictions on socializing have eased. We've had a few different visitors pop round to ours and also gone to visit other at their homes or in public places and it's just great to get to see Henry being sociable with people other than mommy and daddy. <ul style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zdoJkjP7Waji3lmnQC3IN-ziPvVjRDGZ8Zb7WQgInZ2zhc4vIqtvhDOJ2nV81FmgjVf9OvjzEWUxjh5lbvs_9M9oVwiHH5Xrzmb9U6oiVb4kLTL4H2Rzo5sPYRXXeBm9lv-tuaNdmc7O/s2048/20200708_174945.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zdoJkjP7Waji3lmnQC3IN-ziPvVjRDGZ8Zb7WQgInZ2zhc4vIqtvhDOJ2nV81FmgjVf9OvjzEWUxjh5lbvs_9M9oVwiHH5Xrzmb9U6oiVb4kLTL4H2Rzo5sPYRXXeBm9lv-tuaNdmc7O/w262-h197/20200708_174945.jpg" width="262" /></a><li>It happens less now that he is a little energizer bunny but I ABSOLUTELY LOVE when I feed him his bottle, he gets so tired that he just curls into me and sleeps. Now, that has been replaced by whenever he is cuddly and just STAYING STILL on my lap while we watch TV or something. </li><li>Getting to see Henry make development strides: crawling, cruising, climbing the stairs. Every new thing he's accomplished always makes the day much more enjoyable. To see him grow and flourish, even when the rest of the world is going to pot. <br /><br /></li><li>Seeing Rob and Henry play. There's nothing that warms my heart more than just sitting back and observing my little man and the hubby share smiles and laughter and cuddles. Honestly the best feeling in the world next to still cuddles with Henry. </li><li>Henry's laughing. There are a myriad of ways to get little mush laughing, and giggling like a little hyena and it's the cutest thing in the world. Some of the guaranteed things to get him going are: </li><ul><li>playing peek-a-boo </li><li>passing a soft toy ball to him and seeing his face light up every time it comes back<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy94SRKc3inQJwAMBi5gxelpbvaTDeJpBFlaB7i9prNUU6MPCeHGeROnLjA5EnBoIVIPoJQUiQPkQAahgWU4w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /></li><li>"smelly toes": basically I sniff his feet in disgust and cry 'eeewwwweeeee smelly feet!' or 'who's little smelly toes are these?'</li><li>Being tickled</li><li>Going upside down, either being dipped or being held upside down by his ankles</li><li>Seeing/playing with one of the following people: Granny Alice, & Fun 'uncle' Si. He's in fits of laughter seeing these two. </li><li>When the cat does something unique/unusual from his normal behavior. Ie: making noise coughing up a hairball or balancing on his hind legs for treats</li></ul></ul><br /><b><u>THE BAD:</u></b><ul style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguMnWhHDWBc3RlNSJAiJT9mUmBbnvdIiSacXNzmFTfQ5bkYXTd_zgLIsho34jHbG1SAw5OMaPq_xJmmRQx7JbrlwUEIW9dCbGfngVYBjDj9Ee2OxQDNEKJxVV56vBs9PrWi6xv5RjSmjWA/s1296/IMG-20191119-WA0000.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="729" data-original-width="1296" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguMnWhHDWBc3RlNSJAiJT9mUmBbnvdIiSacXNzmFTfQ5bkYXTd_zgLIsho34jHbG1SAw5OMaPq_xJmmRQx7JbrlwUEIW9dCbGfngVYBjDj9Ee2OxQDNEKJxVV56vBs9PrWi6xv5RjSmjWA/w410-h230/IMG-20191119-WA0000.jpg" width="410" /></a><li>The one thing that I can't ever get past and the day seems to drag on and on is when I'm so exhausted, ready to have a kip and Henry refuses to nap. Not even coffee can save me then. I've tried every trick in the book to get some shut eye (bar calling another person to babysit): sleeping on the floor of the living room while he plays in a confined space....letting him bounce up and down on my lap while I hold him, eyes shut and head tilted back....bring him into my bed, lining the edges of the bed with pillows so he doesn't fall off and draping an arm over him or holding onto a hand/foot and closing my eyes. </li><li>Forgetting to feed myself. There are many a time when i skip breakfast...lunch...basically everything except coffee....because im too busy running around from the constant carousel of care. Its only when my stomach starts rumbling that i remember...oh yeah, i should eat something. </li><li>Interruptions. Interruptions. Interruptions. This is a broad category but there always seems to be one form of it or another going on. </li><ul><li>Door to door people coming around while I'm looking after Henry during one of his crying fits, then having to answer the door with him on my hip and getting really anxious about people I don't know bringing their germs to close to him--NO, I don't want to talk, can't you see I have a baby to look after. </li><li>Typing a message and all of a sudden Henry decides he wants to play with my phone so I loose the novel I was painstakingly trying to text one handed. </li><li>Having to answer the phone when baby boy is loudly babbling or crying in the background and being unable to leave the room to hear what the person over the phone is saying because I have to have eyes on the ever moving mush</li><li>The cat doing something (ie: throwing up, bring a mouse in, tracking muddy paws over the counter tops, knocking something over, trying to escape upstairs where he's not supposed to be, peeing in odd places, etc) and then having to juggle watching mush, and cleaning up whatever it is Charlie's done before Henry gets to it first. </li></ul><li>Trying to juggle housework and taking care of Henry. I can do it, but boy am I rushed off my feet. Sometimes I can putter around doing housework while Henry plays on his own, but there are times where he is always at my side or crying so I end up holding him and finishing my task one handed. The most annoying one that took the longest was hovering while lugging Henry around. I sweat a lot doing that. </li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyk5S__FiqADg7bu9stwn57jgQEqyR6I8yxj-4IrzdjHUsEr4RT2MgMq04o-BtZzyu5cnB9CDbHxmka_SFIiQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><b>Evening Routine:</b><br /></h3><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><u>THE GOOD:</u></b></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj4uGj5ho0t7VNV5le-k9PZln9BXqUC8MxAemXPbnn9GfYCZPPtrvM1SCcAlRzvL8HzPj0qNtRaha3SomULjWHbvR-nsBwIJ0BgacEo-WMuFwbeoRU_Fpr0oQ8tmz4Qo0kQr5Rw-i0ZA8N/s2048/20200711_183606.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj4uGj5ho0t7VNV5le-k9PZln9BXqUC8MxAemXPbnn9GfYCZPPtrvM1SCcAlRzvL8HzPj0qNtRaha3SomULjWHbvR-nsBwIJ0BgacEo-WMuFwbeoRU_Fpr0oQ8tmz4Qo0kQr5Rw-i0ZA8N/w246-h328/20200711_183606.jpg" width="246" /></a><li>It's always a bonus when Rob is working days....just to know he's coming home. Even on a good day, the exhaustion of looking after a baby or toddler is a full time job in itself and to know that my parental relief is on the way home is the greatest hope in the world. </li><li>Bath time with little man is fun and terrifying. Fun because he's now old enough to understand splashing and LOVES it; also, he has rubber duckies that are great to chew on. Terrifying because he gets so excited playing in the bath that he splashes far too much water into his face, freaks out and then face plants into the bath(which normally is his I'm tired/upset so I'm going to rest my head on the floor) unintentionally waterboarding himself all over again. All in all, bath times are great tho. <br /></li><li>Henry's bedtime means that the adults have time to sit without being on high alert. Zoning out to trash TV, watching a movie together, crafting or reading. True winding down time. </li></ul></div><div><b><u>THE BAD:</u></b></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Realizing that its been 24...48...72 hours since my last shower. Seriously, the moment i can sneak away for 5 minutes to take a shower is sheer bliss. I have gone days without leaving the house, or even getting dressed and I suddenly realize I should probably take a nice hot bath when Henry goes to sleep, or forget to shower another day in the morning when I'm trying to juggle Henry watch too. </li><li>When Henry refuses to go to sleep. This kid loves to fight sleep. Naps, Bedtime, more often than not he will be so incredibly tired, eyes closed, and still be squealing, crying and thrashing. It usually subsides within 10 minutes, or he'll drift off, wake up and fuss, then drift off again, but sometimes he just plain refuses to sleep. Those are the hard nights, when all Rob and I wish to do is relax and Henry is fighting sleep for 2 or 3 hours on and off. </li></ul><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyqAVRvE2wI_7iBMjhsCp8_5eggyYIyDK1dMNkOp5s23eekVz0PJHYOTrUGHe7Xp39WGB7pDMJnr6f8iz0NrA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div><div><br /></div><div>As much as I moan about 'the bad', it really isn't all that bad. I know people have had it FAR WORSE than Rob and I have. Under normal circumstances, there are so many parents who have gotten WAY less sleep than we've been able to. There are women who have given birth during this pandemic and have very little support thanks to lock down measures. When it comes to Mush, Rob and I just got lucky. We're waiting for the penny to drop and our next child be the spawn of the devil...although Mush has that demon growl down already strangely enough. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyxf___Z2DFylAfwF-CH6bMlA-q4kDbnxZyuvUD3EWKsckrQz8zXcx0d7gbhusiSZOZbt9VvaLEFd9SRYgxqA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-7287823294635866062020-08-16T12:47:00.000+01:002020-08-16T12:47:51.283+01:00What Maternity during COVID has taught me<div class="separator"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRvJ3J-H4bl7DoAn03DQPxOym9lzsQCjexKVMsKc5HSZWbt13yPLtSQds2rmjKCOj6aBPPnO5ifU_9B3hjA1oQF7IAUaZacH_sAtLWutPlnZ9YJfarrnKAk4Nzv5XV6nybax7VFXwgASb/s2048/20200802_104404.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRvJ3J-H4bl7DoAn03DQPxOym9lzsQCjexKVMsKc5HSZWbt13yPLtSQds2rmjKCOj6aBPPnO5ifU_9B3hjA1oQF7IAUaZacH_sAtLWutPlnZ9YJfarrnKAk4Nzv5XV6nybax7VFXwgASb/w307-h410/20200802_104404.jpg" width="307" /></a></div><div>My maternity has come to an end(I'm on a 'official' month long holiday now😁) and I've been thinking a great deal about how COVID has affected it. </div><div>There are some things that I've absolutely loved--the whole staying at home in our own little family bubble for one. </div><div><br /></div><h1 style="text-align: left;"><u>PARENTING & COVID</u></h1><div><br /></div><div>Lock down was not much different than the first few weeks after having a baby, except WAY less sleep deprived and the pain has gone from downstairs. We just stayed at home and enjoyed time with Henry without an influx of people. Which was really nice. Rob was being furloughed and therefore home so he got to spend alot more time with Henry, well, that is until he decided he couldn't sit still and got a job as a courier. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then there are the annoying things that we weren't able to do (once I felt up to going out and socializing) such as baby classes, meeting up with people to show off my beautiful boy, or just taking him into town and window shopping. It took a long time for me to feel like myself and want to have visitors or to actually go out of the house. I got maybe 3 month or so of this before lock down commenced and it was back into the house for the time being. Which was sad and at times disappointing, but I was more happy than upset to retreat into our family bubble. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>There are also the things that are obviously bothersome for other people regarding COVID and Maternity lease, but I've kind of learned to roll with the punches. For example, there was an article I read about a local petition to get the government to extend maternity leave for a variety of reasons. One key thing was about how it's been nearly impossible to arrange Childcare. With Nurseries, schools, etc closed for months during the lock down phase, nowhere was open to arrange childcare and even now when they've been allowed to open back up it's under heavy restrictions--most nurseries aren't doing visits and won't allow a child to be enrolled with them without a visit first. I'm now realizing that this is a VERY valid point, but I've just learned to deal with it. </div><div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivX0UVTBIwhd4zSUE7m3xfBFdKvWYWJt1wYmZsSn1JpcuO5Uiw26jqSNXTGUTvh4quI0QtQfHGVBDo2ZMT2Z6qzrGe8s1xx9QjQ6uiSxjs7Da7b9MH-C4bCZwHfwXWO4qd2yoLwHi-6ANf/s1920/VideoCapture_20200712-200116.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivX0UVTBIwhd4zSUE7m3xfBFdKvWYWJt1wYmZsSn1JpcuO5Uiw26jqSNXTGUTvh4quI0QtQfHGVBDo2ZMT2Z6qzrGe8s1xx9QjQ6uiSxjs7Da7b9MH-C4bCZwHfwXWO4qd2yoLwHi-6ANf/s640/VideoCapture_20200712-200116.jpg" /></a>I've been more concerned about the long lasting effects that COVID will have on Henry. When lock-down happened, Henry was roughly 21 weeks old (or just over 4 months). We exposed him to LOADS of people visiting and holding him from when he was born, but it wasn't until mid lock-down that he got to the age where he was becoming more aware of his surroundings and recognizing people he knew. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>Weekly skype chats with mum I think has helped solidify that he can identify people talking to him/at him even through a computer screen. Even though mom was here in person prior to him becoming more aware of his surroundings, I think he recognizes her from before. Same with my good friends Lucie and Simon--prior to lock down, during lock down on skype and then post lock down they've visited me and Henry a lot. To Henry, Simon's face is always a recognizable face of someone who's willing to get down and drive wooden cars along the floor with him. </div><div><br /></div><div>Although Henry probably can't remember all the people that have held him and had cuddles prior to lock down, judging by his attitude now, I think he's quite a sociable boy and loves to be around people, whether he can identify them or not. </div><div><br /></div><div>That's one thing I'm really thankful for, is that he is a very happy, easy going baby who doesn't have a problem socializing. The trick now is getting him to play with other babies. He's only had 1 baby experience prior to lock down and that was his cousin George at Christmas, 2 months after he was born, aka way before he was aware of what was going on more than a few inches away from his face. Getting him to socialize with kids his age has been a big priority with securing Nursery (rather than go for a childminder). It's a tricky situation, and rather rushed at the last minute with securing a place for him at a Nursery, but I've had to make due with the crunch time instead of hope that the government would grant extended maternity leave. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>COVID has given a whole new meaning to 'the new normal', with people being furloughed or laid off in some cases, but for me...nothing MAJOR really changed. I was on maternity leave when it started, and restrictions are easing more and more the closer I get to returning to work. If this pandemic didn't happen I would largely be doing the same thing as I have been the past 5 months. The only differences: </div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqw_ho08F3ltwxnJ8GFDkjbu7j8dWEaxtZEtFpL1F1mYPYTAzc8UoNgo3mC98f7rCEZZ11Jg4IieEJjlb1q1tQn6h53JbBmucQsTXZvY_D93VEfev13ObuQgbMbrfcPt2iMLSnq2MsFWQ/s1600/IMG-20200318-WA0008.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqw_ho08F3ltwxnJ8GFDkjbu7j8dWEaxtZEtFpL1F1mYPYTAzc8UoNgo3mC98f7rCEZZ11Jg4IieEJjlb1q1tQn6h53JbBmucQsTXZvY_D93VEfev13ObuQgbMbrfcPt2iMLSnq2MsFWQ/w308-h410/IMG-20200318-WA0008.jpg" width="308" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birmingham : The day before Lock down.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Nursery visits got cancelled, resulting in panic selecting a nursery before my return to work</li><li>Rob was furloughed part of the time and therefore home for a month to help out with Henry</li><li>For a while I couldn't go out, walk into town and go shopping, etc freely with baby in tow</li><li>I probably would have done a few more baby classes with Henry if congregating at Children's centers wasn't banned</li><li>My family would have been able to visit Henry in March (😓)</li><li>More people would have been able to visit Henry and watch him grow up in person</li></ul><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>There are things that I am sad about or disappointed I couldn't do, but overall I am grateful for the time that I've had with my family. Truth be told, the worst bit has been my Anxiety vs. Pandemic. </div><div><br /></div><div><h1 style="text-align: left;"><u>ANXIETY v. COVID</u></h1></div><div><div><i>Aka. I did not appreciate my anxiety ramping up to 11 during all this (Being a New Mom & a global pandemic). </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ6keKUmSbxwRizxW-Iyeg-Z3KPjaMxEO4BoOCAI7UgiRgUBX6cX-OeZCMfIuBzrO9ByvzmRbfTWrAGLN40p8-czupnFVJFIOJM25YOiLhm3Ul8lxxGtetZvIt954bk6rVSgtiVJuiISBL/s2048/20200714_095426.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="513" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ6keKUmSbxwRizxW-Iyeg-Z3KPjaMxEO4BoOCAI7UgiRgUBX6cX-OeZCMfIuBzrO9ByvzmRbfTWrAGLN40p8-czupnFVJFIOJM25YOiLhm3Ul8lxxGtetZvIt954bk6rVSgtiVJuiISBL/w384-h513/20200714_095426.jpg" width="384" /></a></div><div>I knew that having a baby equates to mess: birth is messy, diapers can explode, kids stick everything germ ridden or not into their mouths, the snot faced children, the playing with dirt and bugs. I've always had a thing about personal cleanliness (well...that is until I could go 48 hours without a shower cause I'm too busy running around after a cruising baby). I knew that when we had kids that my cleanliness regimes would either cave completely or I was going to be more 'on it' in regards to keeping a clean child. </div><div><br /></div><div>For the most part I've had low expectations about keeping Henry to an immaculate level of cleanliness (although, there was an issue of unblocking snotty nostrils for a while there), and I think I've been doing a 'normal' job of keeping him clean. Bathing, wiping hands/mouth, nappy changes...I've been doing a thorough job but not being over the top about getting every spec of filth off him as soon as it stains his skin. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>Then a global pandemic goes and screws all that up. My anxiety levels in terms of cleanliness not only go up, but they skyrocketed in the first few weeks of lock down. EVERYTHING needed to be cleaned going in or out of the house. I would clean the doorknobs and the door knocker everyday and the bin would get sanitizing whenever I brought the barrel in/out on bin day. This is in addition to washing my hands before and after I touched anything. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjFQ0UCeO5Egpb8I2XBxWOLdVCM0JxUFJ95_UQSoT_w2G8LQfDYYdJLYdGb6IinKdC7JsfgEsNN0mryWO3ImCuVEtqfCekS_0kM7lqU6IOC19UDdW5DrkXwipVbhsFpR-m_f948pbQ4-NO/s2048/20200701_145137.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjFQ0UCeO5Egpb8I2XBxWOLdVCM0JxUFJ95_UQSoT_w2G8LQfDYYdJLYdGb6IinKdC7JsfgEsNN0mryWO3ImCuVEtqfCekS_0kM7lqU6IOC19UDdW5DrkXwipVbhsFpR-m_f948pbQ4-NO/w246-h328/20200701_145137.jpg" width="246" /></a>My own cleanliness was one thing, but then I had Henry to worry about too. I wouldn't let him touch anything that came from outside. If post dropped through the slot, I wouldn't let him go near it to pick up. Anything we got from the supermarket for Henry would have to be quarantined for 72 hours before we could give it to him. For the longest time I didn't want Henry to go out at all, so either Rob or I would have to go click n collect our groceries while the other stayed at the house with Henry. I didn't feel comfortable taking Henry out of the house at all...not even for a walk in the pushchair or a drive around the block in the car, but I would hesitantly let Rob take Henry for a walk. </div><div><br />Things eased off....I went outside with Henry slowly but surely easing back into things while still being cautious about it. The most heightened example of how far my cleanliness went with Henry was the first time (and really every time since, but less manic) I had to go do a food shop with him IN the store. I brought a whole pack of antibac wipes with me, and personally cleaned down every inch of the trolley before putting Henry in the child seat. I knew part of this was overkill because the store employees were disinfecting trolleys and handing them to people as they came in, but it just wasn't good enough! On top of that, I put a blanket down on the child seat so no part of Henry would touch the (cleaned...twice...) trolley. I may have gone too far....but it was the only way I felt comfortable taking him into the supermarket. </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpS_kGTqiCUR0L4aeRlNbMPNrVe3CRrKtaYPyJMdfemoQVAFk9OJdxshwXvh7VRvzxPX4a3jm8U12Ix3yumrMHHiHaNROo5_L5DVoyPtRxEterfvgkoZokRGQqG4P-LNPd_c7AD0f4NYT1/s2048/20200719_145308.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpS_kGTqiCUR0L4aeRlNbMPNrVe3CRrKtaYPyJMdfemoQVAFk9OJdxshwXvh7VRvzxPX4a3jm8U12Ix3yumrMHHiHaNROo5_L5DVoyPtRxEterfvgkoZokRGQqG4P-LNPd_c7AD0f4NYT1/w308-h410/20200719_145308.jpg" width="308" /></a>The blanket in hindsight makes no sense because he would sooner breathe in contaminated air than catch anything from a twice sanitized trolley but hey ho. </div><div><br />It's been an uphill battle for sure, but I'm starting to relax a bit more as the world goes back to normal. I still have plenty of hand sanitizer and antibac wipes at the ready, but I'd like to think that I'm being a bit more rational and thoughtful in my processes as to not over do it. I'm just glad that I've gotten to the point where I trust Mush Mush to be around other people in close proximity besides Rob and I. I understand that Rob could catch Covid at work and bring it home to Mush just as easily as a close family friend could give it to him by breathing while holding Mush. The people I let hold/play with Henry I trust are being safe and reasonable when it comes to Covid and social distancing, but it still makes me feel nervous. I'm just learning to push past that. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><h1 style="text-align: left;"><u>Time to Think About What's Important in Life</u></h1><div><br /></div><div>Apart from all the discoveries with Mush, Maternity has been a breathe of fresh air in realigning my priorities and having the time to think and discover and open my eyes to things I had been blind to before. It's honestly been a time in my life where I've been able to look at things through a new lens, from big world wide issues to small happenings in my personal life. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>The first thing to mention is that 2020 should just be binned off completely. There have been so many world wide issues that have proven that the end of the world is neigh. Besides a global pandemic wreaking havoc, other natural disasters of biblical proportions have been the bushfire in Australia, a volcanic eruption in the Philippines covering whole towns in ash, devastating floods in Indonesia, a swarm of locusts in Africa, large magnitude earthquakes in Turkey, the Caribbean, US, etc. Then we have the continual onslaught of people of color and the Black Lives Matter protests around the world, the ongoing Hong Kong Protests and display of police brutality there, massive explosions with the latest most devastating event occurring in Lebanon from improperly stored contraband, as well as a couple major plane crashes (such as the Pakistan airline incident....and the not so 'accidental' shooting down of a Ukranian jetliner in Iran) that had both on and off craft casualties. </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSkK38mbrdbEgEPYLWuQG6VRwDO6C0v-VDF6IUezW4chi3uKq-vi-Mo_2Mq1KcfPzPnq9pQXaCUDFlW0tHt0x-2pVBP2AD_DgniGbNMGBgOyB6snG6x6C99NJ7lVS1Lr5T-4VQilPU12AG/s1920/InShot_20200816_120657743.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1920" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSkK38mbrdbEgEPYLWuQG6VRwDO6C0v-VDF6IUezW4chi3uKq-vi-Mo_2Mq1KcfPzPnq9pQXaCUDFlW0tHt0x-2pVBP2AD_DgniGbNMGBgOyB6snG6x6C99NJ7lVS1Lr5T-4VQilPU12AG/s640/InShot_20200816_120657743.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Not that the world hasn't had tons of devastating events before, but with media so widely spread on the internet now a days it's quite easy to find out what has been happening mere hours ago in a country on the other side of the world. On a personal note, in recent years I've taken a backseat from keeping up with news outlets thanks to a big orange orangutan in the white house & trying to preserve my sanity by ignoring everything that gets me riled up. But now I'm trying my best to keep abreast of what's been going on in the world by finding reputable news sources and trying to filter out the kack so I don't get myself in a tizzy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>In all of this going on, I've found opportunity in learning and speaking out about injustices in the world. With all the filth that is plaguing the world, it's hard to be everywhere at once, and you can literally drive yourself mad by trying to advocate for every cause there is, which is why for now I've been speaking out so strongly about the Black Lives Matter movement. I'm relearning history about the country I grew up in and I am amazed, appalled and somehow not entirely surprised at all the dirty dealings. I've learned in my findings, that the best thing I can do from my position is to speak up and educate people I know into the light of the truth.That's my bit....and I'm sticking to it for now. </div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZWvZhVSLZAlDQ7PELzzi2C236w7bCgklZxV7s6vwfLldVbo_oLnAsswilvPycgH1Uzo0rElZnNhmLDXfVJwhID0QQ5lHIXmSc21b3HDbhsXza4yu0SNA6LDneeqprwTaw5tK0fnJBNLMW/s1200/IMG-20200704-WA0010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="687" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZWvZhVSLZAlDQ7PELzzi2C236w7bCgklZxV7s6vwfLldVbo_oLnAsswilvPycgH1Uzo0rElZnNhmLDXfVJwhID0QQ5lHIXmSc21b3HDbhsXza4yu0SNA6LDneeqprwTaw5tK0fnJBNLMW/s640/IMG-20200704-WA0010.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Re: Naturalization laws for YEARS specified you had to be a Free White Person to gain citizenship. <br />I was never taught this in school. I'm learning now.... </td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The other thing maternity leave in general has given me is the opportunity to take a step back from things I thought I knew in my personal life and allow me an outside objective option. I've very much found this with a passion of mine from the last 6 years: aerial. Where once I was blinded by the ideal that the studio I went to was wrapped up in love, inclusivity and good intentions, the cracks in the exterior have gradually shown through. </div><div><br /></div><div>Starting way back in February when I stopped going due to getting pregnant, taking a step back from the studio has allowed me to see all the unsightly bits that I just glossed over with another coat of 'happy place' paint. Well, taking time off has revealed what's underneath...hypocrisy, egocentricity, greed, and downright acrimonious behavior behind the facade of a happy, loving, studio family. With all the things I know, have learned or experienced, it's made my priorities shift. It makes me want to devote less time to an industry that is as cliquey as Cheer-leading, Gymnastics, etc and spend more time doing what makes me happy. For the majority of my maternity, my happiest times have been when I'm creating something (crochet, painting, writing), and seeing my baby boy grow up. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Boezq9PG7jNd3_bKTBuiHtciHBIrzsN3Q0tIvCs4f1p7QEaViA7BMvyELMfMHJlWEMvf_Uc3htc3EjjqCM9Lr068p85QBY6FEa4SWVxVrEqRG91AgHJUsWcHlk3kowQVz2e2y_-XCqhR/s1349/IMG_20200812_072121_929.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1349" data-original-width="1080" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Boezq9PG7jNd3_bKTBuiHtciHBIrzsN3Q0tIvCs4f1p7QEaViA7BMvyELMfMHJlWEMvf_Uc3htc3EjjqCM9Lr068p85QBY6FEa4SWVxVrEqRG91AgHJUsWcHlk3kowQVz2e2y_-XCqhR/w328-h410/IMG_20200812_072121_929.jpg" width="328" /></a>I read a book recently that claimed to have the Japanese secret to a long and happy life. It talks about Ikigai-purpose. I've talked about this before in an earlier blog, but to sum up Ikigai (and the meaning of life) is finding something you</div><div>A) love to do<br />B) are good at</div><div>C) can provide the world that is needed</div><div>D) can make money doing so</div><div><br /></div><div>So far, I've done a fairly good job at obtaining all four of those through Crocheting as my commissions list keeps growing. Will it be worth quitting my job one day and pursuing it full time? No idea. But what I do know is that even though I may be gaining weight from sitting on the couch crocheting instead of getting up on a pole or in a hoop in my free time, I can say with absolute certainty that it is a better use of my time and makes me a whole lot happier. </div><div><br /></div><div>It gives me great joy to be able to use my maternity leave to not only spend time with my son, raising him, seeing him grow and learn, but to be offered these moments of clarity. I've done a fair bit of self discovery through my maternity journey and I continue to do so every day. Pandemic be damned, I've had a great maternity leave! Albeit, my anxiety has gone through the roof... will I ever know if that was due to COVID or being new to parenting? Will I ever know what a 'normal' maternity leave looks like? who knows. I'm just along for the ride baby, and in this household, we roll with the punches. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-66778798429687441872020-08-13T21:17:00.005+01:002020-08-13T21:18:42.333+01:00"Oh no..."<p>I am fully aware that my child is definitely an adventurer and as we have coined in our household a 'danger baby'. However I never see what's coming next. (Do any parents know, really?) </p><p>We had our first settling in visit at the nursery last week and baby boy was completely comfortable with crawling around and away from mama (without looking back). It's a very good sign for us that he's going to settle into nursery quickly and be comfortable without us....but at the same time: Dang baby boy! Can't wait to get rid of mama are you? Alright...bye then. *cries internally*</p><p>To be fair, as soon as he learned to crawl he was gone. When he sees something he wants to go after, he will and quite quickly I might add. We find this especially true for the Kitty (he LOVES that cat). So I don't know why I was so surprised when today's little adventure happened. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyELNYooRdRl1FJlwXPKuuCv2pSbkWAv9aCD0125dt0IO57eM8nFGy8ag1kE5M1udelVlOWgsSqe-EU3FWy-g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The way our house is laid out, the sitting room door opens out onto a hallway/foyer where the staircase is right in front of the front door. On the other side of the front door we have a little inside porch bit with some tropical plants hanging on the wall & a sliding glass door to the outside. I went to water the plants in the porch and baby boy follows me out to the foyer. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw69BU5VGBOxA5QXGLjwz0VzYqhIKwQdrOk0T8tpQYiNTFYixBrgPJyQiQejLeTt5KirAsRZnV80lombsKG9pgoy5-S2kjUQ2LkNK9s7_ZN64lheLURfiBwbJTSPbmxtLbGFPNJ__b0CGU/s1280/tumblr_ppek4z556M1qg1n95_1280.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw69BU5VGBOxA5QXGLjwz0VzYqhIKwQdrOk0T8tpQYiNTFYixBrgPJyQiQejLeTt5KirAsRZnV80lombsKG9pgoy5-S2kjUQ2LkNK9s7_ZN64lheLURfiBwbJTSPbmxtLbGFPNJ__b0CGU/w168-h168/tumblr_ppek4z556M1qg1n95_1280.png" width="168" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">He's been learning to push himself up to standing, and then sit back down and he does this with the bottom step of the staircase that is BEFORE the stair gate(which is where the banister starts, and where we could pressure fit the gate). I was so busy trying to quickly water the plants that I didn't notice him start to push himself up on the bottom step like he does. I go to fill the watering can, and water the plants on the windowsill of the kitchen and return to find Mush up 5 steps of stairs. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Suffice to say my little mommy heart simultaneously panicked, judging my neglectful parenting ways and thanked my lucky stars that he didn't lose his balance and fall. I had no idea he was going to pick today to attempt and master stair climbing. *mom-panic level hyperventilating* I will be locking that gate from now on and silently judging myself for the rest of time. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx5iA1ukY-0OaeBMnYVpbcj8Ok1HpDL7IkluroiPz3xx1SiY8zdc99Tz78gQkrlzmWA_pZQH48qJTVaNIPh4Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After the panic had eased off, I turned on my camera and was able to catch a little bit of the shenanigans. But I think going up 5/6 steps in less than a minute was a tiring feat for little mushmellow. We sang the immigrant song instead, and mommy felt marginally better. </div><p></p>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-41652803396945603542020-07-31T10:09:00.000+01:002020-07-31T10:09:23.555+01:00Those super insecure moments So recently I've been going through a lot of up and down days with my depression/anxiety. <div><br /></div><div>I've never been diagnosed as being manic-depressive, but that's the closest thing I can think of to describe the past week. I had very low mood days, where I was insecure, lonely, and almost unable to function coupled with moments of high productivity, running around doing everything like a boss bitch, and back again. It started with an insecure moment I had with a Facebook friend last week and it only seemed to grow the more the week went on.</div><div><br /></div><div>On a daily basis, even when I'm good at handling life, often times my anxiety takes over and I feel like <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxDjJovDkaji1oICccwcENa1qTv8k9ECsQDd7C38gI_UIdWRJqjBlmPTa_GY4aZrrsf7a7GjmUDsImYP0e2cAgOhxh_RDOsf18QmtuIYOsQAjC-jMqapHDKnqQecfqbjcMuYBeaKx3cWuQ/s2048/20200727_142808.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxDjJovDkaji1oICccwcENa1qTv8k9ECsQDd7C38gI_UIdWRJqjBlmPTa_GY4aZrrsf7a7GjmUDsImYP0e2cAgOhxh_RDOsf18QmtuIYOsQAjC-jMqapHDKnqQecfqbjcMuYBeaKx3cWuQ/s320/20200727_142808.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken on a bad day, when I retreated <br />upstairs to bed. Luckily the cat knew <br />and came to comfort me.</td></tr></tbody></table><h3 style="text-align: left;"><i><font color="#800180">I'm a failure at life, </font></i><i><font color="#800180"><br />I can't do anything right,<br />Nobody likes me. </font></i></h3><div><i><font color="#800180"><br /></font></i></div><div>I know this is my inner sabator talking and I need to reassure myself.... </div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><font color="#800180">I'm not failing at life--></font><font color="#38761d">I'm living. </font><br /><br /><font color="#800180">It's not that I can't do ANYTHING right--></font><font color="#38761d">I got up, got dressed, I'm a functioning human being so I did at least some things correctly today.</font> <br /><br /><font color="#800180">And Saying NOBODY likes me is a bit overkill--> <br /></font><font color="#38761d">at the very least I have a husband who loves me, a baby boy who will love me unconditionally, and in the words of Ru Paul "I'f you can't love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else? Can I get an Amen?"</font></h3><div><font color="#38761d"><br /></font></div><div><div style="text-align: left;">Still, that aside, I can't help but feel down when I have 'friend interactions'. Certain interactions with people make me second guess where I fit into their world and if I'm accepted or just tolerated. And it's worse the closer I let myself get to people. That's why, based on my past track record, I take a very long time to warm up to people and very rarely do I let myself feel fully dependent upon friends in case I'm let down. I can't even begin to describe the overwhelming dread that washes over me when I think someone whom I deeply care about, just DGAFs about me. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZ3UdaVm5EtpKA1Q3bnElIwjHOt3y4IRiWxirKIIlGOBmq1ifQg-ssJlmT4KF-9sjxyPajQXYx34qGGZvFLzdKlqxEui6W2-Wl9bI1rSf-Nal7bSSgylr0tQBfh49iKoatJ6px9nSuhPl/s500/1429146_DGAF.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZ3UdaVm5EtpKA1Q3bnElIwjHOt3y4IRiWxirKIIlGOBmq1ifQg-ssJlmT4KF-9sjxyPajQXYx34qGGZvFLzdKlqxEui6W2-Wl9bI1rSf-Nal7bSSgylr0tQBfh49iKoatJ6px9nSuhPl/s320/1429146_DGAF.png" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>It's sending someone a huge long text message, then only getting a 1-2 word reply. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's making plans with someone and feeling like the only idiot who's excited to hang out. </div><div>Or...alternatively,</div><div><br /></div><div>It's seeing them with their other friends through social media posts and realizing "they never look this happy when we hang out" when every time you're super excited to be with them. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's seeing them hang out with a mutual friend and getting serious FOMO. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's feeling like they only talk to you when they need something. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's trying to make plans, and it keeps getting put on hold (without any particular reason just 'really busy this week, I'll get back to you later') and never following up. ...half a year later. Try again. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's the constant analyzing of expression: Is it resting bitch face? Are they tired? Stressed? Worried? Got a lot on their mind? Or do they just not like me?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>All these little niggles, these sabotaging thoughts and feelings are a constant battle in my head that I have to shoo away like spiders with a blowtorch if I want to get anywhere in life. I need connections. I need people to be a part of my life and I get sad when I think about the connections with people I've made in the past, only to be wasted by someone deciding one day 'you know what..Nawwww, I'm out. Friendship done.'</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhEqhU3BcryBkXDCT5DICQWqMmvVGZqz_ZtTPsU3qKauWoXtea01zri_krm5hwtxdvaOBHH1sWEn_INIXm2-a5cFoMhR_-63SmscjSdJH7hWeB9waC46I_KOcp0pUhVPJ1XneRjXu-vmJ/s1080/FB_IMG_1595798903202.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1080" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhEqhU3BcryBkXDCT5DICQWqMmvVGZqz_ZtTPsU3qKauWoXtea01zri_krm5hwtxdvaOBHH1sWEn_INIXm2-a5cFoMhR_-63SmscjSdJH7hWeB9waC46I_KOcp0pUhVPJ1XneRjXu-vmJ/w400-h266/FB_IMG_1595798903202.jpg" width="400" /></a>I've been scorned by one too many people whom I've thought of as true friends. And now when I really connect with someone, I have a habit of building up walls faster than you can say 'friendship' because I fear I'll get speared through the heart with a javelin of betrayal, yet again. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I set my expectations low. If I don't build them up, then they can't let me down. Still, some days are harder than others. When I pour out my love for someone and they torch it like gasoline just to watch it burn: it hurts. </div><div>Like unrequited love... only it's unrequited friendship that I fear the most. </div><div><br />Something as tiny as a friend not messaging back can get me all worked up and make me spiral into a low mood if I let it. That coupled with over tiredness, looking after another human life, making big life decisions (we just got a loan to buy a second family car and we're trying to sort Nursery out at the moment), a global pandemic and just living day to day can get pretty overwhelming and sometimes I just snap. And this week-I definitely snapped. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj0TcmGiJOVzE6X7e3XnjJO4e8ixZgFSUjnVW7DjPZwBcQttvhleH3zJt-VFebAe1uju2Y6-yM-UOz7RhR5iBm5mpBnkD_ig3t1mnEyWnWF_fbHTvlppJOMIKKae_5BrL5x4LdGQfLfkxm/s2048/20200725_141532.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj0TcmGiJOVzE6X7e3XnjJO4e8ixZgFSUjnVW7DjPZwBcQttvhleH3zJt-VFebAe1uju2Y6-yM-UOz7RhR5iBm5mpBnkD_ig3t1mnEyWnWF_fbHTvlppJOMIKKae_5BrL5x4LdGQfLfkxm/s320/20200725_141532.jpg" /></a>Don't get my wrong, not every day was bad. I'm glad for the moments where I have good friends who are able to get me out of a slump for a little while. Not only is it great to be around people who genuinely seem to enjoy your company as much as you enjoy theirs, but it's a great distractions from the sabator whispering sinister thoughts in my ear. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, like all good things must come to an end, as soon as the interaction is over, and I'm back to being in my bubble alone with my thoughts, it can go one of two ways--I'm super low, or I'm super productive and there's no real way to detect which way the mood will swing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Most people only ever see the manic side of this. Super productive, super organized, getting stuff done, Crochet fiend, crafting extraordinaire, busy body, boss mom, friendly, outgoing, social butterfly Jennifer. In the main, that's because when I do have these super down days, I don't go anywhere, I don't do anything, I'm off social media, and I just either cry or sleep or cuddle my kitty to make me feel better. I mean, If I'm lucky, I get to sit in front of the TV(not crying) and binge watch TV to distract myself from the reality that I eventually have to get back to until I'm in a more functional mood. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqoheCUK-w9QkVlmSoUwFyrbOPlSyaTTGCEB9_vcLK0t4bGSl7yS6H9MaKwlcRTZfcBAH_wiriQH1EJgoaTZnvL7aCpPXAOit3tkuoBlrKBXSsrd3d0w3dli7EZNj94EXOgVK12TIUYJdQ/s2048/received_214706309897297.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqoheCUK-w9QkVlmSoUwFyrbOPlSyaTTGCEB9_vcLK0t4bGSl7yS6H9MaKwlcRTZfcBAH_wiriQH1EJgoaTZnvL7aCpPXAOit3tkuoBlrKBXSsrd3d0w3dli7EZNj94EXOgVK12TIUYJdQ/s320/received_214706309897297.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The picture above is from another bad day where I was just so exhausted, I face planted onto our new ottoman. I set up my camera to play with Henry cause he was doing something cute at the time. We played and I fained enthusiasm for so long, until he crawled away getting distracted by something else. I was on my knees, gathering up bits of toys in the living room and just sank my butt to my heels at some point. I remember being so tired that I didn't really want to pick up toys anymore and instead dropped the toys and just slumped forward and rested my body on to of the ottoman where we keep all his toys. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Later, after Henry went to bed, I watched the video back, partially to see if there was any good footage to post on IG, and partially to see why it was SO LONG. I forgot that I had my phone camera still rolling and came across this little gem-so I screen grabbed it. Often times as mums on social media, the spotlight is always cast on the good, rather than the bad. So I thought I'd share this to let people see the other side of the coin--of momhood and of my depression. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm feeling more myself, but I'm still under pressure with certain big life changes. I think it might be time for a mom stay-cation. (a "mom stay at home vacation": 24 hrs of uninterrupted me time to rest and recuperate). </div><div><br /></div><div> </div></div></div>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-76497154505318194732020-07-21T14:34:00.004+01:002020-07-21T14:41:05.950+01:00When is the right time to add to the family?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nwOKY27iYNwImFhN13m7iTxXT2YwKnJLyGTGJ7IQqFX2hVD4FbhG-nYeGxYUu8rlUgVW_ZYyfBC3f0Wbfrh-QzmfUgdFIFljoQTL3zqfyRisKiMltWDPE3YA4D7ovm1u3UXKlrgitQ4t/s2048/20200603_155539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nwOKY27iYNwImFhN13m7iTxXT2YwKnJLyGTGJ7IQqFX2hVD4FbhG-nYeGxYUu8rlUgVW_ZYyfBC3f0Wbfrh-QzmfUgdFIFljoQTL3zqfyRisKiMltWDPE3YA4D7ovm1u3UXKlrgitQ4t/s320/20200603_155539.jpg" /></a><span style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">When <b>IS</b> the right time to add to the family? That is a very deep, serious question. And there is no right or wrong answer because everyone views things differently. Every couple has their own unique situation when they have to consider having a child. But the answer surrounding the aforementioned question in terms of getting pregnant is usually, "When it feels right". <br /><br /></div></span></div><div><div>Sadly, my brain works off logical thinking, considering smaller and wider parameters of my life, thinking rationally about each one and often times weighing the pros and cons. I know I know....I'm a nightmare. How do you think I feel, I have to live with their irrational, rational thinking!</div><div><br /></div><div>When Rob and I had Henry it was kind of a divine sign. I had just lost my dad, and we wanted to start having kids before we turned 30 anyway, which was imminent. And it just sort of organically happened without 'actively trying'. Now, seeing how adorable Smushy is, Rob has been asking when we are going to have number 2 (teasing how we need to have a 'SmuSHE'). We both want to have another one and I can feel it...that need for Henry to have a sibling, and me to just go for it while I'm young enough to run around after 2 under the age of 2 by myself. But my brain just can't stop rationalizing every little thing, and it's hard to know what's me overthinking vs. me doing my due diligence to make sure we don't get in over our head. <div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHkD2dIlpr9gYsQOSnoptKfVnoJoHTZAxLmEQp4hot4ItawmAIz162lDwBIKL2OpN71bCQ5IJ44DzJG8z3h-KR7V0MDthxwXLS00-sTUmXAyy9wygTANB5SOy2m4XdvDlltz39Eo1s-Eo9/s1024/IMG-20200530-WA0011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="769" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHkD2dIlpr9gYsQOSnoptKfVnoJoHTZAxLmEQp4hot4ItawmAIz162lDwBIKL2OpN71bCQ5IJ44DzJG8z3h-KR7V0MDthxwXLS00-sTUmXAyy9wygTANB5SOy2m4XdvDlltz39Eo1s-Eo9/s320/IMG-20200530-WA0011.jpg" /></a><font size="5">Larger considerations: </font></div><div><br /></div><div>Probably the largest consideration right now is to be bringing another child into this weird COVID-19 pandemic. Who knows how long it will last and if it will be gone before we have another child. If it isn't, there's the worry of being able to go in for midwife appointments, prenatal class, etc and experiencing the joy or prepping for a little one. Then on top of that, if Covid is still kicking around, I dread to think what it would be like to have a baby at hospital during a pandemic. </div><div><br /></div><div>The next life changing consideration is... do we have the room? do we have the stuff? Henry has graduated out of his baby carseat, and a new baby can sleep in the carrycot in our room for a few months, but that will only get us so far. At some point we will need to get another larger carseat, another cot or move smushy into a different toddler bed...which will go into the guest room. The one variable that we haven't got from the get go is a combi pushchair - one to hold a sitting toddler and a new born baby. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then we have the other factors that everyone has to consider: what's going to be a good age gap between the siblings? Can we afford two kids? Will Rob and I still be working in the same jobs, doing the same commute, earning the same amount of money? Will I have to go down to part time to be able to take care of both kids? Will I be able to handle a newborn and a toddler on my own this time without help from mum(who was visiting), and Rob (who was home more of the time due to lockdown)? </div><div><div><br /></div><div>Then there are the smaller, petty little things that don't actually matter in the long run, but they go in the pro and con lists all the same, just while we're at it.</div><div><br /></div><div><font size="5">Smaller Considerations: </font></div><div><font size="5"><br /></font></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAZnSPg7_gaQZ8pbSdKbfVAmaJZGAtUytyscmXgcMgVgUzqQUs-8PFMkURe-x21pVJdQqrE3jfTR1Y102bloaMQWs_UJi-W12lEC30Oxnlj62yb200_RSuU8UpMXRQS_OASyI3Ws0FUjU/s2048/IMG_20200531_204913_781.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1638" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAZnSPg7_gaQZ8pbSdKbfVAmaJZGAtUytyscmXgcMgVgUzqQUs-8PFMkURe-x21pVJdQqrE3jfTR1Y102bloaMQWs_UJi-W12lEC30Oxnlj62yb200_RSuU8UpMXRQS_OASyI3Ws0FUjU/s320/IMG_20200531_204913_781.jpg" /></a></div><div>I had always envisioned that after we had Henry and when we got used to our status quo that Rob and I would be able to go on another holiday abroad, just the two of us, and we'd get someone to watch Henry while we're gone. Either that, or we'd be able to go back to America: either back east to visit my brother Jason, or home to California where the rest of my family is so that Henry can meet his American cousins (preferably while airfare for babies is free).But with Covid circling the globe, that certainly isn't on my to do list anytime soon. </div><div><br /></div><div>So then, do we wait to have these trips abroad after baby number two? Which means that if we are taking the kids, it could possibly be more money if Henry is older. Or if we need someone to look after them, it would have to be 2 kids instead of just Henry? Seems awfully cruel to inconvenience someone like that - not having looked after 1 child overnight, but being dumped with 2. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then there's the really stupid stuff that pops into my head....like I can't give blood if I get pregnant again...which I haven't been able to give blood for 2 years, since before dad died. Or the fact that I have an idea for another tattoo I was going to get...but then I got pregnant with Henry and I couldn't get it and there's rules about waiting so long until after you've given birth before you can get one. </div></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>And then there's the fact that I love my Henry and that I don't know what its going to be like while I'm pregnant-will I be able to keep up with him. Will he be jealous of a new baby? Will I devote more time and attention to the next little one because they're only a baby. As stupid as it sounds I don't want anything getting in the way of the connection I have with my little man. I mean, Rob doesn't even get that much attention off me anymore (mostly because we're both doing metaphorical baby juggling).</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL03N6BwvxFQarJ5WS6oogAIvC7ix3Ya5CClYnmJMwd0SCA02mwwrNcm5OFGutcyu7_dUV73h5kCyCULUyLOWtndNJD1cSronSqOHbKcHaGgpNuNBHTS1vocV9ROWEroyRbIMpQslgvKeF/s2048/20200708_174945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL03N6BwvxFQarJ5WS6oogAIvC7ix3Ya5CClYnmJMwd0SCA02mwwrNcm5OFGutcyu7_dUV73h5kCyCULUyLOWtndNJD1cSronSqOHbKcHaGgpNuNBHTS1vocV9ROWEroyRbIMpQslgvKeF/s320/20200708_174945.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I know that the decision to have another baby shouldn't be weighed against statistics or a pro/con list and that we should just know when the time is right, but I can't help having a very analytical brain. I mean, I am definitely a planner and the thing about kids is that you can NEVER and I mean NEVER account for all possible outcomes no matter how hard you try, so what's the point stressing over it? </div><div><br /></div><div>Just to be clear, I'm not looking for any advice, and this is not some big announcement or anything, this is just me, letting you inside the thought process of my brain as I try and work it out for myself. Right now my head is a jumble of anxiety, pre-planning, panicking, daydreaming, imagining, calculations, and considerations. So, when you ask me again, "Do you think you and Rob will have another one?" ... answer your own question after reading this and know that yes, we want to, but my mind hasn't even determined when that will be! Only time will tell....</div>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-30783930678432318872020-07-15T22:09:00.000+01:002020-07-15T22:09:28.573+01:00#Mom Life<div>I'm beginning to realize that time moves differently when you have kids. </div><div><br /></div><div>Have you ever felt when you have a day off from work that it goes WAY too quickly? That you rush around all day trying to do stuff or get things done and find you either run out of time or by the time you finish there is no time to relax? </div><div><br /></div><div>That's parenting 24/7. I realize that this is the easy stage I'm in currently--not having to worry about balancing a job and childcare pick up/drop off-- and it helps that I have Rob to co-parent. When life goes 'back to normal' and both Rob and I are working we will have to balance both work lives, parenting life, and personal lives. That will be when the crazy hazy days will start coming in. </div><div><br /></div><div>For now everything is just new and slightly scary parenting wise, so everything i do is a new challenge. Having Rob back at work makes things a bit trickier; I feel like Single Mom sometimes taking care of Henry all day and even all evening. Sadly there are times even when Rob does get home he's still 'off duty' because he's cooking, or mowing the law, or going for a run, or completing a personal errand and I'm still on 'mom duty' until Henry goes to bed. </div><div><br /></div><div>I get overwhelmed some days that I'm having to juggle what I want to do, what Henry needs, and household tasks in a day, when Rob has a singular focus approach-- he can either look after Henry or take a shower. There is no way to do both. Whereas if I need to take a shower, I simple place Henry in his cot (before he was crawling I placed on a towel on the bathroom floor and we played intermittent Peek-a-boo while mommy cleaned herself up). Maybe I'm just a better multitasker than my husband but it still riles me up and I end up having an emotional overload where I'm unable to adult some days.</div><div><br /></div><div>Luckily, Rob is learning slowly how to multitask and also I think he recognizes when I've 'had enough' and has to tell me (several times before I will listen) to go away...go take a bath, go out for a walk, etc. I guess I'm just used to the idea of 'I have free hands so I need to DO something.' Sometimes the DOing things makes me super productive. Sometimes it's a super mom kind of day and I feel like a multitasking boss instead of wanting to cry my eyes out by the end of the day. </div><div><br /></div><div>Occasionally, I do wonder if I'm not Manic-Depressive, but then again I don't feel like my depression dips are low enough to be diagnosed as such, I just happen to have really manic episodes of productivity....but I digress. </div><div><br /></div><div>Very rarely do I have a 'mommy day' or a 'mommy evening'. I kind of have to fight for these in and among the craziness, but it's really important to have a zero responsibility day(or majority of the day) to reset myself. I probably get one of these every couple of months if not once a month. A set block of hours where mommy is off-duty completely and I get to do whatever I want (read, craft, relax, spa day, shopping day) without having to juggle baby watch or household tasks. I had one of these today whilst Rob took Henry to visit his Granny. I had in mind that I would sit and crochet and finish reading one of my books, but I read for a bit until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore and ended up having a 2 hour nap, which I obviously needed. </div><div><br /></div><div>Still, i'm grateful for these 'reset' days where Rob knows I need a break from full time mummy duties. And for those days where I feel like there's not enough time to do everything I want and everything that is required of me AND relax, I have to remind myself that productivity is not always getting stuff done. Sometimes it's okay to skip the laundry, leave the dishes for hubby to do when he gets home and just have a cuddle with my little man. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7OoT1IWe3HAisnyTF1NGerPbMPG26P22trLtd3kaZRB1dXtlXx3FczXqUz1CEmmW_HNU8ljNEgVbZoI5qsSIpa9sTwJysDSqtzvwtK3PhhpcF6HIYsE4Kb3-rvewTE_9Z5uz5Ryr8esb/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7OoT1IWe3HAisnyTF1NGerPbMPG26P22trLtd3kaZRB1dXtlXx3FczXqUz1CEmmW_HNU8ljNEgVbZoI5qsSIpa9sTwJysDSqtzvwtK3PhhpcF6HIYsE4Kb3-rvewTE_9Z5uz5Ryr8esb/w400-h400/FB_IMG_1581526028577.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>A happy mum makes for a happy baby and self care is just as important a task as anything else. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3827215592937636843.post-77569387692767392552020-07-10T13:38:00.001+01:002020-07-10T13:38:34.319+01:0021 Day Antiracist Challenge - Part 2<p class="MsoNormal">Here is the second part of the journal entries from the antiracist challenge on Mehcad Brook's Instagram.Again, not every day was a journal day, so there might be days missing. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i>Day 13 Prompt- WRITE A LETTER</i></b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <i> </i></span><i><b>Write a
letter to America using ALL 12 words you wrote down from the past 2 exercises.
At the end of the letter, reflect on how you feel. The juxtaposition between
love and disappointment is just the tip of the iceberg of how Black Americans
relationship with America is. </b></i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">VAST.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>NEW.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OPPORTUNISTIC</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">FREE.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OUTSPOKEN.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>PASSIONATE.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">TRAGIC.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">BRUTAL.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">MISINFORMED.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">INHUMANE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MALICIOUS.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">DECEITFUL.</i>
<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear America, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When
Christopher Columbus ‘discovered’ America it was so new and exciting. It was an
uninhabited land that British colonials would migrate to and make their home on
behalf of the crown. Yet, it wasn’t uninhabited….it wasn’t yours to discover. There
was a free indigenous people <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>already
occupying that vast open space and you took it from them. You slaughtered those
people or drove them out to make way for your colonies until there was nothing
left but the lands you stole. You then passed it off in American History as a
national holiday of ‘peace’, breaking bread with the natives. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Fast
forward to a time where the American colonies were being established and they
needed a workforce to carry out the labours the rich upper class needed doing.
The poor people who were shipped over from England and Ireland were indentured
servants to the rich upper class, working off debts, until the rich found a
more opportunistic work force. The white lower class became free and put in
charge of plantations to police the new coloured workforce-plucked straight
from their homes in Africa, India, etc and sent to this new land to be slaves. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That
was the founding of the police: The white, once indentured servants, who now
policed property of the rich and prosperous. Unlike indentured servants, who
were still seen as human, these new slaves were only seen as possessions or
property and that has trickled down over the years and never was corrected. The
American people are misinformed-The police are, and never were, here to
‘protect and serve’ the people of the United States. They are here to protect
property and serve the white upper class. That is how it has always been and
it’s beyond tragic that it’s never been corrected. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Throughout
the years of American history, despite the deceitful lies told to us in the
history books, black people have always been seen as less than and have been
treated in such disregard, as if the whole population of black Americans were
expendable. The Tulsa Massacre was brutal-all steaming from a misunderstanding
between a black boy and a white girl, fueled by those trying to stand up for
what is right, and escalated by malicious racial actions that resulted in an
entire black community destroyed. The Tuskegee Syphilis Experiments that went
unnoticed for 40 years! were malicious and inhumane- hundreds of poor black men
being lied to that they were getting free medical treatment, when in reality
they were being injected with disease and gone untreated, spreading it to their
families too, all for the sake of a useless scientific study. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>America,
you are unapologetically outspoken in your talk about being the land of freedom
and opportunity. You breed a passionate people who would die to protect you and
everything you stand for, but they do so blindly. They do so ignorantly. They
do so, knowing or unknowing, that there is a whole population of people within
your borders that are still oppressed after 500 years of injustice. Your pledge
of “with liberty and justice for all” is a lie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It seems that it’s only the case for those you deem fit by the
collective white population and that does not include ALL. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Signed,
an ex-patriot, <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Jenny Vidler<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i>Day 14 – JOURNAL/THOUGHT
EXERCISE</i><o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Look
up an unarmed black person dying at the hands of a white person in the last 20
years. Look at it with new awareness, now knowing how black atrocities were
hidden from history. As a thought exercise, read the story disbelieving the
facts that make the black person look bad. Write down your thoughts. <o:p></o:p></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There are so many infamous murders of innocent black people
and many more that go unreported every day. I’ve just jotted down my thoughts
of a FEW of them that I’m outraged by and included a video/news clipping in
case you have never seen it and want to witness the atrocity for yourself. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><font size="5">TAMIR RICE-</font></b> 12 years old, is playing with a pellet gun
outside a rec centre. Shot within 2 SECONDS of police pulling up.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4a-GFIdkxK_7IQMaj2DnYAw0sul8t8lVrlwAbNaHUvTvNxnWHfT6iR1HQQN9OOYyvxTDJgYFp19Pw8mxdco-Ih4C6qRMdaoYECq1EtrPS0H_C1eUm6VmkTvBdlrOrrIBcz8vNkSL39Yo/s992/ht_tamir_rice_4_kb_150612_1_4x3_992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="992" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4a-GFIdkxK_7IQMaj2DnYAw0sul8t8lVrlwAbNaHUvTvNxnWHfT6iR1HQQN9OOYyvxTDJgYFp19Pw8mxdco-Ih4C6qRMdaoYECq1EtrPS0H_C1eUm6VmkTvBdlrOrrIBcz8vNkSL39Yo/w400-h300/ht_tamir_rice_4_kb_150612_1_4x3_992.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://youtu.be/UVZM8w9JCXI">BBC News- Tamir Rice Footage</a> <--Watch it<br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My initial reaction is that whenever it comes to ‘suspicious
black activity’ cops always Shoot first and ask questions later (asking
questioned being… ‘How do we cover this up so we don’t look bad?’ It’s messed
up. It’s never like you see on TV where officers are there shouting at a
potential suspect, “Get on the ground” or “drop the gun” repeatedly for a good
minute. Yes a 12 year old had a toy gun in public, but police should have tried
to ‘deescalate’ the situation instead of knee jerk reacting. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><font size="5">BREONNA TAYLOR – </font></b>An EMT(in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic)
was in her home, in her bed, & shot 8 times because of a drug raid on the
wrong house. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFEXsoxjjmbCDT7W5e_tsRLtxqHWA3Hx_jAvqZOT0na5WdorZ1orP2nBBXTGOqfBk_lZAuhx6RHgD3OxfaYYkdjsfdUpCwnvS90OMmkYNnSkmoJMuwMDaVoOP5sfdvvVyeIhpXzU3S8IRr/s1425/4d0f92ba-aafe-4b7c-8292-0c40164198f4-Breonna_Taylor_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1425" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFEXsoxjjmbCDT7W5e_tsRLtxqHWA3Hx_jAvqZOT0na5WdorZ1orP2nBBXTGOqfBk_lZAuhx6RHgD3OxfaYYkdjsfdUpCwnvS90OMmkYNnSkmoJMuwMDaVoOP5sfdvvVyeIhpXzU3S8IRr/w500-h281/4d0f92ba-aafe-4b7c-8292-0c40164198f4-Breonna_Taylor_2.jpg" width="500" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vvHmyhv9bJ4">Breonna's story -- WATCH IT</a> <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My thoughts… unorganized as they are: that’s one less medical
professional on the front lines. Why didn’t they knock? Why were they in
civilian clothes? Why was she shot 8 times-isn’t one enough? How did they get
the wrong effing house?!? Why were the reports filled out incorrectly? All of
this is very suspicious and a good woman lost her life because either officers
were negligent idiots or had malicious intentions. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font size="5"><b>TRAYVON MARTIN-</b></font> Unarmed teenager walking home from the
store, followed and killed. FOLLOWED AND KILLED. George Zimmerman called 911 to
report Trayvon walking and looking around his neighbourhood ‘suspiciously’. The
dispatcher asked if George was following Trayvon, and when he said yes, the
dispatcher SPECIFICALLY SAID ‘We Don’t Need you to do that’, yet he continued
to pursue Trayvon.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBNmVB-vKc-OQc2OI5tBnVZvCH5GHDVVpDDj19s5jBxWW5LMHkODaboo_Hbf6nns7SOZj6QjVSDejGpjFqeLXKGhskBmc3rKw-iib3Oy-A00sHwIESuRANTI2CL1Hpk7tIDGIt9VycrYXZ/s466/trayvon_martin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="349" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBNmVB-vKc-OQc2OI5tBnVZvCH5GHDVVpDDj19s5jBxWW5LMHkODaboo_Hbf6nns7SOZj6QjVSDejGpjFqeLXKGhskBmc3rKw-iib3Oy-A00sHwIESuRANTI2CL1Hpk7tIDGIt9VycrYXZ/w300-h400/trayvon_martin.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ia0w_dOj7R4">Minute by Minute account of Trayvon's case</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The only reason why Zimmerman is allowed to roam free is
because of the bullshit “stand your ground” law which states you have the right
to defend yourself even with lethal force if you feel threatened instead of
retreating. I have no words for this… he stalked, confronted and shot someone
who was non-threatening and he gets to walk free? Unbelievable. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font size="5"><b>ELIJIAH MCCLAIN- </b></font>Walking home from the store, wearing a mask
to keep his face warm, unarmed and yet was manhandled, put into a chokehold,
and injected with Ketamine. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioiWuKeyb3PeLpbP-gcPOlCconqdzCVYGB-F4DOE1Q5rpHorBx29YpYTk-G1z5aXnsOUzXJ58q9jdv82h0X-CYrUqAxMbIjmy5lIPULnyhc8RsZ_bRPWjhJg4K2fOIXe2jSuBlfhwVWTF3/s1920/elijah+mcclain.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioiWuKeyb3PeLpbP-gcPOlCconqdzCVYGB-F4DOE1Q5rpHorBx29YpYTk-G1z5aXnsOUzXJ58q9jdv82h0X-CYrUqAxMbIjmy5lIPULnyhc8RsZ_bRPWjhJg4K2fOIXe2jSuBlfhwVWTF3/w500-h281/elijah+mcclain.png" width="500" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGlHMZQtO7U">Minute by Minute account of Cops 'arresting' Elijah</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">They violated his personal space. Instead of stepping in his
way to make him stop walking and calmly talking to him, investigating where he
has been, where he was going, etc. they grabbed his arm to stop him and that
made him visibly uncomfortable and nervous. Elijah seemed like a special kid,
like he is somewhere on the autism spectrum(that’s just my opinion) and to be
placed in an aggressive situation where he felt trapped, I’m not surprised he
reacted by babbling. I don’t believe for a second he tried to grab an officer’s
gun. I don’t believe he was struggling hard enough to warrant the officers
giving him Ketamine because he was ‘super strong’. There were also multiple
officers on sight that could have held him down to calm him if need be. No need
to sedate him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Day 16 Prompt- <o:p></o:p></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Write down 5 words
that privilege means to me. <o:p></o:p></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">Opportunity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Benefit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Positive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reward. Advantage. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Day 17 Prompt-JOURNAL ENTRY<o:p></o:p></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Do your own
research on Special Field Order 15: aka “40 acres and a mule” and then write in
your Journal how black people must have felt knowing that the US government was
finally going to take care of them, and how they must have felt when 2 years
later the US government reneged on the deal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Write down where America could possibly be
right now if the deal had gone through. Heal the collective by sharing your
thoughts on Social media. A FINAL THOUGHT: Are we Americans or are we White Supremacists? <o:p></o:p></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
imagine that to get a meeting with the president to begin with to discuss
moving forward after the war must have seemed unreal to those black leaders. I
can imagine that they would have been in disbelief that the government cared enough to sit down and negotiate terms of ‘what would help you’. Then to have
it agreed upon that black Americans were not only free, but would be granted 40
acres of land, ways to till the soil and buy back that land, protection from the
US government against their former oppressors and most importantly HOPE of a
completely autonomous future.. I can only imagine the overwhelming joy saying ‘FINALLY’
free at last. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I can
picture that when President Lincoln was shot that these black leaders would
have been in shock, thinking ‘But, we still have a deal right?’ The deal was
with the US government, not specifically Abe Lincoln. At that point word
probably spread to all the free African Americans that they would be given a
safe community to prosper in and the news of Lincoln’s death would have stirred
up mass confusion. When President Johnson ordered a proclamation that the land
would NOT be used for it’s intended purpose, but instead given back to their
white traitorous owners, the people must have been absolutely furious. They
went from being stolen from their homes, enslaved, their children enslaved,
being forced into a war, being brutalized, raped, killed and after all of that
a glimmer of hope was given to black American people…. Only to have their
oppressors take it from them once again. I would have been absolutely fuming,
but then immediately that fury would turn into fear for my life. I imagine that
is what some people would have felt, like going straight back to square one.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If
Special Field Order No. 15 would have gone ahead, there’s no telling what life
in the United States would be like now, but it couldn’t be any worse than what
it is now. If I had to hazard a guess, I think that those given the land to
work on would have easily been able to sell what they reaped and make money to
buy back the land from the US government making them official free, black, land
owners. I would say that the rights of citizenship would have been granted to
ALL those born or naturalized in the US when the 14<sup>th</sup> amendment was
issued 3 years later. They wouldn’t feel the need to stipulate citizenship to ‘free
WHITE persons’ in the document because there might have by that time been BLACK
land owners which would have carried more weight in society and therefore those
would need to be included in the amendment. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span> </span><span> </span>With
that, black Americans would be looked upon with all the rights of Citizenship
and could have been treated with more respect. Black Americans could have been
granted the right to vote earlier. And I reckon that the systems the US have in
place today that suppress the voices of BIPOC would be far less, or at least
more exposed so the injustices could be seen and squashed more openly instead
of indiscretions being hidden away.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>On the
flip side I’m sure that Special Field Order No. 15 and all the terms of conditions
would have been looked upon by White Supremacists/Southern former slave owners <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in contempt. There may have been more hate
crimes done in secret, but again, with Black land owners in society this would
have been frowned upon a lot more because society would have been forced to see
Black land owners as citizens who matter. There might have been more open
debates, or even more war over these issues, but the land given to ‘negros’ to
till, and buy back, would have given them a better standing in society and so
any oppression they would have faced would have been dealt with more
effectively and out in the open. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
question of… “Are we Americans or are we White Supremacists?” is an excellent
existential question. In my opinion America is not filled with Americans, nor is
America filled with White Supremacists. It SHOULD be that everyone in America
is an American Citizen(if they have naturalized), but this is not true. On a surface level, there are illegal
immigrants that have snuck through boarders and are not citizens. More than
that though, to be an American Citizen, you have to be granted all the liberties
of a citizen, and BIPOC do not have all of the liberties that American Citizens
have. So if Americans are not all Americans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And Americans are not all Supremacists… what are they? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It is
widely seen that there are two type of people in America: White Supremacist Racist Bigots and Bleeding Heart Liberals/Traitors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You must be one or the other apparently. And for those who think they
are somewhere in between, there is no in-between. If you are accepting of the
way things are and are not fighting against the system, then you have accepted
a White Supremacist system is governing you and it doesn’t affect you so you
choose to do nothing. I find it funny that anyone acting out against the
oppression must be seen as traitors, yet to those who think this…they are descendants
of the white supremacists who took this land away from Black people… and those <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>colonials were the ones who fought against
their country in the first place. They are the traitors. So, therefore it seems
that there is a great deal of white guilt wrapped up in this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you think that liberals fighting against
the injustice of the system built on oppression is ‘traitorous’, you might want
to examine your own guilt because your descendants did the exact same thing
when they went to war with their country to oppress the freedoms of other
people. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Day 21 Prompt-JOURNAL
ENTRY<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span> </span><span> </span>Go back and review your journal entries & note your shortcomings.
Write down what you learned about yourself in the last 3 weeks- who you were,
who you are now, and who you’d like to be going forward. Also, listen to the
podcast Mehcad did with Duncan Trussell- (it’s an honest conversation between a
black man and a white man).</i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>What I have learned about myself is that my past is not free
from inherent racial bias. I added some things to my previous journal entries
that sprang to mind—for example, listing off all of the things I’ve done with a
‘policing mentality’ that I could think of… I’ve thought of a few more
rereading it and it makes me ashamed of how I asked before. I also noticed in
some of the adjective exercises that not only do I have some racist unconscious
bias, but I also have done rather anti-feminine unconscious bias. For some
reason when I think ‘athletic’ in my head, my unconscious response is Young
White Men are good at athletics…no one else? Why not people of colour? Why not
women? What are all the Olympic athletes if not athletic and they are not all
young white dudes. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I used
to think that I ‘didn’t see colour’-now I know that is a ridiculous argument.
Of course I DO see colour; I know the difference between a red car and a white
car. What I meant to say is that I don’t judge people based on their race, and
for the most part I didn’t. I didn’t sneer at anyone or commit any hate crimes,
or call people racial slurs, however I was thinking somewhat like a racist with
my unconscious bias. I have been mentally programmed from TV, movies, my
growing environment—family, home, work, school, friends, etc—books, the news…
all of these things have fueled the way I see people based on the colour of
their skin. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>I grew up in California where there are a lot of Mexican
immigrants, illegal and legal. One of the biggest racist thoughts I had growing
up was the misconception that all Mexicans can’t or won’t speak English and if
they do it’s broken span-glish in a weird(to me) accent. That’s offensive and I
want to slap myself. Yes, you do find a lot of Mexican migrants in California
who only speak Spanish. Yes, speaking Spanish does come with a certain vocal cadence,
but that is not to say that EVERY Mexican person is like that. There are people
who have assimilated to life in the United States and I probably wouldn’t ever
have thought they were from Mexico because of the perfect English they speak. But
does it matter—hell no. So why was my mind putting them into a box like that?
Because I was programmed to by everything that I had previously picked up subconsciously.
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">I also used to think that I was a
good person and I wasn’t racist because I didn’t outwardly act on my racist
thoughts. I stayed silent and complicit, and I know now that that is almost as
bad as actively participating in racial violence. It’s the psychological theory
of mob mentality and it can be very damaging overall. For instance, if loads of
people were to witness a crime-say a mugging in an alleyway between apartments,
most of the people watching out of windows from their flats (if not all of them)
will say, “I don’t have to report this, someone else will do it”. IF everyone
has that mentality, the crime goes unreported; each and every one of those
people who witnessed the mugging did nothing about it and the cycle of crime
continues unpunished because no one acted. Not speaking up, is allowing it to happen… again, and
again, and again. It’s a selfish way of thinking that it’s not an immediate
problem because it’s not happening to me. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">Through this challenge I have
realized that I have been complicit and condoning the actions of openly racist
individuals. I have not been playing my part in ending systemic racism. I have
been blind to the truth of my country and my adopted country up until now.
Every day I am learning new things about perpetual racism in the media,
historic injustices, and systems that have been built on foundations of
oppression. I understand that my past and the past of my ancestors do not
prevent me from taking action now. I must push past accepting who I was for <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>fear of ‘sounding/being racist’ and strive now
to be better. What we did in the past does not matter as much as what we do now
going forward. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">Who I am now… I am an ally. I will
not stay silent anymore. If I see injustice in the world I will speak out and
encourage others to open their eyes to the truth that has been going on
underneath our noses for centuries. I will try to make my friends and family
see the atrocities and encourage them to openly take a stand so that we can end
this cycle and begin anew. My hope is that at least everyone I love I will be
able to touch in some way and be able to wake them to the truth of the world, which
I hope will inspire them to act and change the future for my children. There is
a lot of work to be done. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">It starts with unraveling the inherent
racial bias that we unconsciously use every day. Recognizing racist behavior within
ourselves and moving on from it is the first step. Learning about history and
about the world we live in—the TRUE world we live in—with all of its ugly and
shameful parts is the next step. We tell our children that it’s important to
learn about our past so that “History Doesn’t Repeat Itself” but if the truth is
being hidden…how can we learn from those mistakes and move on? Seek answers.
Read. Listen to podcasts. Watch documentaries that uncover the truths that have
been brushed under the rug for so long. I have always been the very studious
type of person who is addicted to learning and getting to the bottom of things.
I’m also someone who enjoys the complexities of the human psyche and so my
biggest thing is to recognize who I’ve been, how I’ve acted, learn from it,
learn from others, learn all that I can and change my attitude towards these
old outlooks. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">Part of the reason I love the
Musical Hamilton so much is that there are so many powerful phrases in the show
that relate to this exact topic. I’ll leave you with my favorite lyrics &
a note on each for you to ponder: <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><font face="helvetica"><b><font size="5">“History has its eyes
on YOU.”</font><br /></b></font></span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><font face="helvetica"></font></span></p><div style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><font face="helvetica"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal; text-indent: 36pt;">History is
watching. What are you going to be known for?</i></font></div><p></p></blockquote><div> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><font face="helvetica" size="5">“I’d rather be divisive
than indecisive.” &<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>“If you stand for nothing[Burr] what will you fall for."</font><br /></b></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Openly take and fight for your stance. Don’t
just stay on the side-lines.</i></p></blockquote><div> </div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><font face="helvetica" size="5">“We will never be
truly free until those in bondage have the same rights as you and me.”</font></b></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span> </span>All are NOT equal. There is so much
inequality still in the world and that needs to change, or else freedom means
nothing.</i></p></blockquote><div> </div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><font face="helvetica" size="5">“I imagine death so
much it feels more like a memory. When’s it gonna get me, in my sleep, seven feet
ahead of me? If I see it coming do I run or do I let it be? ….I never thought I’d
live past 20, where I come from some get half as many.”</font><o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For those of darker skin, being hunted,
having to give their children ‘the talk’, death at an early age is always an
option… and never knowing when it could happen is scary.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="helvetica" size="5"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“I’m past patiently
waiting, I’m passionately smashing every expectation, every action’s a</b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">n act of
creation…. For the first time I’m thinking past tomorrow. And I am not throwing
away my shot.”</b></font></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">THIS-The passion that fuels people to fight
for a better tomorrow. <o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><font face="helvetica" size="5"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And when our children tell our story. They’ll
tell the story of tonight”</font><o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I think of all the protestors…people taking
a stand, getting injured, getting killed for a cause they believe in. And how
these stories and the outcomes will be told and retold through generations</i>.
<o:p></o:p></p><br />Jenny Vidlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11575674932687623382noreply@blogger.com0