Saturday, 28 April 2012

Sanitary care?!

Warning readers - not only does this post contain ranting it contains some SERIOUS over sharing. I'm known for my over sharing (though not anywhere near as bad as my friend Molly, who makes me look like a right tight lipped lady!) but don't get all ick when I warned you in advance!

So. Sanitary care. Or, as I call it, 'unsanitary products of woe'. 

I have known all my adult/adolescent life that 'sanitary' products had VAT added and have long bitched about this, muttering words like "luxury my spotty arse" and "have a fucking HAPPY PERIOD?!" (that wasn't really muttered, ever.) 

The thing with these 'sanitary' products is that they seem never to have involved women, women who actually have periods, in their design.

Sanitary towels have magical powers - they claim that they stick discreetly into your underwear and provide such magical absorbing powers that you could don a pair of bright white micro shorts and abseil down the Eiffel Tower screaching "LOOK, I'M ON MY PERIOD AND YOU CAN'T EVEN TELL - I'M HAVING SUCH A GREAT TIME!"

What ACTUALLY happens is that you peel them from their wrapper, wonder which way around they are, position them in such a way that either it's too far back and the front curls over and sticks to your pubes, leaving a smear of blood on your pants, or it's too far forward and your period eeks down your bum crack and leaves a smear of blood on your pants.

If it has wings you think you're safe - but they tend to come unstuck, and either stick to the pad itself, leaving a gap where you can get a smear of blood on your pants, or it sticks to your muff, hurting and leaving a smear of blood on your pants. 

If there are no wings the pad will simply roll itself into a tube, meaning that the absorbent top coat is hidden, leaving just the blood-resistant outer layer to stick to your muff and leave smears of blood on your pants.

The extra long night time ones? They feel like you have a phone directory between your legs and seem to funnel the flow, leaving a smear of blood on your pants. 

Now you can get scented pads - to cover up the horrific pong of the rotten insides that are oozing from your vagina. These claim to smell like flowers and give you a 'spring fresh' feel to your fanny. What they actually do is combine with the smell of period to make you smell like formaldehyde - and who the fuck needs their fanny to smell like flowers anyway?!

An added joy is the unmentionable chemicals used in creating these monstrosities. They, combined with the sweating and bacteria and 'perfume', all mix into a hellish concoction that gives you blisters on your minge. This isn't a good look - and it certainly doesn't make me want to go abseiling or horse riding. 

Whatever brand you go for, whatever style you choose, you can guarantee two things. One - you will NOT want to take up netball. Two - you WILL get a smear of blood on your pants. 

Don't even get me STARTED on fucking tampons. 

Feel free to comment and join in - but be warned, if one single person mentions the word 'mooncup' to me (WHY DO I WANT A BUCKET OF BLOOD IN MY FANNY - WHY?!) I cannot be held responsible for my actions! 

Thursday, 26 April 2012


A few weeks ago I wrote this post about baby Poppy, the incredible daughter of a friend I've known most of my life. 

Poppy was born very, very poorly, and Sophie and Steve, her incredible parents, were told that she very likely wouldn't survive the night. 

On 29 May Poppy will turn one. A whole year. A whole year of proving the doctors wrong and being bloody awesome. 

Poppy is a wonderful baby girl - she is a joy, who lights up the room with her beaming smile, who smashes every limit the experts say she'll have. 

Poppy's Dad and a team of his friends are doing a sponsored bike ride to raise money for the ward that cared for Poppy, who kept her alive and who did the liver transplant. They have a justgiving page here - please, please pop on and sponsor - even a pound will do, even a pound will make a difference and will make Poppy and her family so happy. 

Every penny will make a difference to the ward and the team and will contribute to equipment that will save other little lives, and will keep families together. 

No amount of money will repay the team on the ward for the incredible work they did, nothing can repay people for saving your baby's life, but if enough people read Poppy's story - which, by the way, was in their local paper today - and donate a small sum it will show just how much it means to the family, and to everyone who knows and loves them.

I love this family so much, I think they're just incredible and they are such an inspiration. 

Please follow the link, read Poppy's story again and do what you can to sponsor the boys or pass the link on. They would all be so, so grateful.

"Poppy was born on May 29th 2011 with an extended abdomen. It took the nursing staff eight hours to stabilise her condition so she could be transported to Manchester Royal Infirmary's Intensive Care Unit. Her parents were told to accompany her in the ambulance as everyone feared she would not make it.
Quickly diagnosed as having a Mesenchymal Haematoma on her liver (a tumour, the size of which you can see in the photographs; was causing her extended abdomen).  Poppy's condition was serious; she needed round the clock care. She spent eight days in Manchester Royal Infirmary with a nurse by her bed 24 hours a day. After eight days she was transferred to Leeds General Infirmary (LGI) for specialist liver care.
Poppy arrived at the Intensive Care Unit at LGI, on June 7th 2011. Again, receiving round the clock care. 
On 17th June Poppy was dealing with her first of many operations. Her first was undergoing a 'resection', a major operation to remove the tumour and with it, a section of her liver. 
It was hoped that the remaining liver would be enough to function appropriately and regenerate itself over time.  This would be enough for anyone to go throughbut Poppy was 3 weeks old.
Unfortunately what remained of the liver was not enough for a sustainable function. Poppy required a liver transplant and she was placed on the donor register as a ‘super urgent priority UK’. Most transplant lists are localised but such was the seriousness of Poppy’s condition she topped the list for the whole of the UK.
After a difficult twelve days LGI had found a suitable liver donor for Poppy. An unimaginable experience andlife changing decision by an unknown family meant that Poppy could undergo her transplant on June 30 2011.
During the transplant operation Poppy required two separate heart massages. As a result of needing this procedure Poppy has been diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy.  That said, Poppy has made it through with flying colours. She’s kept this approach to overcoming all her challenges; she never fails to inspire those around her.
The transplant was done through open surgery which meant she required three more operations over three weeks to close the wound.
Once the wound was closed, after close monitoring and the start of her immune suppressants Poppy was allowed home in time for her big brother Hayden’s 4 Birthday!!"

Make it sleep!

The baby - who isn't much of a baby, but is actually 14 months old - has decided that sleep is for the weak. 

Since the move the new routine has thrown things off kilter and he falls asleep on the drive home every day, which means that he's fallen asleep too early and then wakes when we get home and will NOT settle back to sleep at the right time - or at any time before 10pm. 

We resorted to putting him in his cot and letting him cry tonight - which we've always said we won't do - we just couldn't think what else to do - he doesn't settle on or near us, he just bashes and scratches and slaps and wallops us. 

He seems to think it's all very amusing but it isn't - and when I get up between 6am and 6.30am every day and literally do not stop until he falls asleep after 10 every day it's more than a little draining - particularly on top of the hideous cold we've all had too. 

Tonight was the first night since the move that he fell asleep before 10, and he went off at 9 instead. It's an improvement I guess, but I would love for him to just go to bed like a human rather than turning into a screaching ball of fury and woe. 

I want an evening, and I want time to wind down and to get things done in the evening, and I would like time with my husband, and I would like him to just go to bloody sleep!