Tag Archives: rant

Why being a lesbian mum is exactly the same and completely different

There are some fundamental things about motherhood that just don’t change. You will change umpteen nappies, and as a result you will get baby poop and other bodily liquids over most of your limbs at one point or another. Generally speaking however you obtain a child (no, not theft, I’m talking adoption, fertility treatment or in a plethora of other ways) it’s come from the same place – a womb. There will be a time – if you have a newborn or very young baby – where you don’t sleep, you will feel like the walking dead and you won’t know who you are; one day you will find you self sat on the sofa in yesterday’s underwear, bloodshot eyes with bags the size of houses, unbrushed teeth that still look clean because you can’t remember the last time you ate, smeared with poop, a few bubbles of sick down one arm, and some crusty snot thrown in for good measure. That happens. To everyone who’s a parent believe me. There’s other things, like the fact that once your a parent there really is no going back – particularly for those that have carried and birthed a child, once you have that baby your life will never be the same again. It takes time to go back to feeling like yourself, but that self is very much a different self. Whoever you were before you had a child is gone, held captive by your long forgotten and never to return youth. Whoever you were is most definitely not returning. But that’s ok. This new you is a better you anyway!

Thats the stuff that’s the same. Seems like everything, right? Wrong. The differences are invariably cultural. Its always cultural. It’s those little things that make our lives that bit harder. The worst bit, is it starts before your child’s even born.

Take your antenatal classes – a class full of straight couples. Where does the non birth mother sit? For the sake of this and any ongoing blogs I post (and my word count!) the non birth mother will be referred to as ‘mama’ and birth mother (mum). Where should the mama sit? It’s not really with the mums – they are all discussing the trials and tribulations of pregnancy and their fears of labour. But it’s also not really with the dads who are more concerned with discussing where the closest dominoes pizza place is to the hospital.

Throughout pregnancy I felt sorry for my wife – she would tell people she’s having a child and within about three seconds a haze of confusion would melt over their face as their eyes would unsubtly drop to her stomach and back to her face a few times. It’s still not ‘normal’ enough for people to just accept that two women can have a baby.

Even after pregnancy and labour it continues – but the problem is – the differences are between your friends and you. I am sure that to a certain extent straight couples who have kids young experience similar things. The friends who begin to slip away because they ‘just don’t get it’. They are incapable of compromising or being understanding to the fact that organising a night out is the equivalent to party planning for the royals. It takes serious time and effort, you can’t just go out at the drop of a hat. And, lets be honest, most of the time you don’t want too either, not because you’re a bore, but because if you do go out – the consequences will reach further than just a saturday morning hangover. You’re going to be tired long into thursday – especially when your child decides to start teething again – at that very moment you went out and let your hair down – commence a week or two of exhaustion. That bit – is probably the same.

But for the LGBT circle, the current generation of young’uns (17-35) we seem to be taking life in the slow lane. The majority of people who are having children in this gayby boom are 35 plus in the LGBT world – obviously I’m not saying everyone, there are also pockets of exceptions – but in my world – most if not all the LGBT parents I have met are 35 plus – in fact thats kind of mimicked with the hetero-parents I’ve met too. The difference this makes is – most of my friends are still in the culture of being concerned with where the next night out is coming from and who’s round is next. most still live at home with mum and dad, and few have careers sorted or any kind of concept of where they want to be when they grow up. Indeed any kind of mention of commitment and you got yourself a full on epi pen needing allergic reaction. Why is our generation of young LGBT so frightened of commitment? few if any of my friends have had relationships longer than a couple of years. It makes me feel like a freakshow – not only am I LGBT and therefore in a minority group as it is – but I’m a minority within a minority – a young LGBT person with a child, who actually had the child in a lesbian relationship and whats more, gave birth.

Other major differences include the ‘questioning’ when you come across a straight couple with a newborn – usual questions include: Oh how adorable – how much did they weigh? How was the birth? Do they sleep?

Now – we tend to get one or two of those normal questions and then you get hit with the- ‘I’m going to look really awkward and shift from foot to foot because I know what I’m about to ask is rude, but I’m going to do it anyway!’ – face and then the barrage of “oh so, er, how did you do it then?” most of the time I feel like responding with an equally stupid answer “do what? get my hair styled this way?, do what look this good on no sleep?” etc etc. Other stupid questions include “do you know the donor?” “are you both called mum”

Seriously, next time a straight couple asks me how I ‘did it’ I’m going to ask them how they got pregnant too, see how they like them apples!

I’m ranting – but I have a point, we face regular interrogations from joe public, and even from our parents. My own dad commented that he wasn’t really sure how it would ‘be’ raising a male child with two mums. “Where’s the balance” I remember him saying. He ate his own words though when he visited because he then said “I don’t think I’ve met a happier child.”

There are probably a million other differences I could name, but my rant just ran out of steam! For any of you LGBT mummies out there – anyone else able to add irritations to the list?

The Abomination That is Disney!

disney-princess-kida-disney-princess-30168400-2560-1117

The wife has always had a penchant for Disney. I on the other hand barely watched them as a child, preferring to have my head stuck firmly in the pages of dusty old books. Disney came up in conversation again recently – having pushed a small human out – and the fact she wanted to have a large collection of disney films ready for the boy to watch. Sky had a few on demand over Christmas, so we sat down and stuck The Little Mermaid (TLM) on.

I sat, aghast for the entire film. How has disney been able to produce films that are quite simply an abomination. People – and by people I refer to the murky world of ‘parents’ – seem to rave about disney and how good their films are…. Good?

Good – sure, if you count a hideously antifeminist, despicably amoral story that has nothing even remotely like the ethics or values I want my son to grow up with.

I hate to be a mermaid basher so I will start with a positive. Race equality – TLM is a great story about how love is equal across any race, Mermaid loves a human, different races, love conquers all blah, blah, blah, Great – this is a moral I can not only live with, but as a lesbian, actively promote and encourage. I want my child to know they can love whoever they want, no matter their race, creed, gender or otherwise.

The Film:

Issue 1: Ariel falls in love with the prince. – So wrong. She spontaneously falls in love with someone she has never spoken to and mostly just perved on, in a fairly stalkerish way from afar.

Would you encourage your kid to do this? I doubt it. I can already see the injunctions and restraining orders being slapped all over him, because a stupid film told him real love happens by stalking someone for two days. Ok, I am being facetious but you see my point. I would also like to point out I am not suggesting that I don’t believe in love at first sight. More that you need to have a reality check in real life, even if you do fall for someone instantly.
Issue 2: Ariel wants to change herself to be with him.

I hate to go all feminist ranty on you. Actually, I don’t hate it, I love a good feminist rant. In fact, any sort of rant. I digress – BUT don’t we have enough antifeminist-bullshit pressure to conform to the ultra skinny, rib protruding, size of a seven year old, bulimic-anorexic, vomit inducing ‘celebrity look’ society the media loves, without having it force-fed subconsciously to our infants. UGH. No woman…. Actually no man either, should ever have to change themselves to be with someone. Is it just me? Or do we spend hours of our lives giving advice to our perpetually confused friends on their relationships, and why it’s not ok for them to allow their partner to nag them into suppression?

Issue 3: The prince starts to fall for Ariel but then deserts her instantly for a disguised Ursula over something so shallow as her voice! He decides to marry Ursula immediately having spent all of no time getting to know her…

Where do I even start with this. It is not ok to teach my child that they can desert a woman (or man) based solely on a characteristic. Thats akin to suggesting it’s ok to leave their partner if they get fat, or a scar, or a disability. I mean SERIOUSLY. And then to marry the other woman because of that same characteristic, after what 2.5 milliseconds of time spent with said woman… sure thats an outstanding idea. I am positive all parents would approve of their kids doing this.

Issue 4: Instead of Ariel taking her pride and moving on she pandas to the prince and chases after him. 

This makes me want to claw my face off in frustration and resort to excessive amounts of alcohol. How low must her self confidence be to chase after a guy who only likes her because of her voice and will desert her as quickly as he met her for another woman simply because she lost that characteristic.

Issue 5: After all that the prince goes back to Ariel dumping Ursula and THEN kills Ursula just for good measure.

Now I just feel awkward. No one wants to date a psychopath, and lets be honest, the prince is looking more and more like a psychopath; with emotions unnecessarily fickle, and an assumption that it’s ok to off your ex…

Despite the fact I am resolute in knowing TLM is morally wrong, it’s not like theres anything better on the market. I think I may have to go investigate the other films!

Quarantine for you 'fatty'

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Friday was…utterly ridiculous. I went to my GP just to see what this itch was all about, because it was intolerable, but I assumed that it was just eczema because the midwife had said it was nothing the week before. Anyway – the GP was having none of it and decided that I needed to go straight into hospital and have blood tests – for Obstetric Cholestasis

For Information OC is:

Obstetric cholestasis (OC), also called intrahepatic cholestasis of pregnancy (ICP), is a potentially serious liver disorder that can develop in pregnancy. Normally, bile salts flow from your liver to your gut to help you digest food. In obstetric cholestasis, the bile salts don’t flow properly and build up in your body instead. There’s no cure for OC, but it clears up once you’ve had your baby.Some studies have found that babies of women with OC are more likely to be born prematurely or to be stillborn. It’s not known how much higher the risk of stillbirth is compared to women who don’t have OC. There is no reliable way to work out your baby’s individual risk of stillbirth.

I rocked up to hospital and was basically immediately quarantined – they weren’t sure if I had chicken pox or OC – neither of which are great news – they drew blood decided to give me a CTG ( monitoring the babies heart rate) – which they then thought showed a deceleration, so I was then re-monitored and had to sit with the CTG monitor bands on my itchy rash wrapped round my belly for over an hour – I was becoming more and more displeased with the situation! We had gone in at 3pm and at 10pm there were STILL no blood test results. They didn’t want to release me as they had said that if the tests came back positive they were going to induce me there and then.

Do you know my major concern at this point… as pathetic as it sounds… try not to judge me… but I hadn’t shaved!! I didn’t want to be induced and have hairy legs – not if I was able to have a pool birth! ridiculous the things you worry about when your panicking!!

Anyway – I decided that we would leave hospital because the wife hadn’t eaten for over 12 hours and I had, had just about enough of all the fuss. Suffice to say the results all came back fine and I didn’t need inducing at all – and do you know what they gave me… a bloody piriton – PIRITON – an allergy drug I could have bought over the bloody counter at the local supermarket HOURS before. The irritating thing is my best mate ( a doctor) diagnosed me with PEP (polymorphic eruption of pregnancy) about an hour into me sitting in hospital – all she got was a couple of tidbits of information over a text no exam or anything – sigh – if only she had been able to be my doctor!!

PEP is: a relatively common skin disorder that occurs in women of childbearing age. It usually presents in women during their first pregnancy. Recurrence in subsequent pregnancies is unusual and milder.

It is characterised by an itchy rash that commonly begins on the abdomen, particularly within stretch marks (striae). It most usually develops during late pregnancy (third trimester) 

Basically a really annoying itchy rash – delightful, one of the other lovely ailments caused in pregnancy!! Suffice to say the itchy is subsiding now I have the piriton but the rash is spreading – and is now on my thighs 🙁

Today was officially my last day at work – I know I finished over a week ago but I had to go in today for half a day for a conference that my team had organised. Half day – so left at about 1 /1:30 and between 9:30 and 1:30 I had no less than 6 people comment on my size…

some of the most ridiculous inducing:

“alright fatty”

“woah im not being rude, but your fucking huge”

“oh you’ve put on weight since I last saw you” “hahaha”

How is “alright fatty” a bloody greeting ??? Why (a women no less) think that it was acceptable to greet another women in that way? irrespective of being pregnant. Just infuriates me. I don’t think I’m that fat? I don’t think I have put on that much weight, but all the constant comments are really starting to get to me, no one ever says anything nice, only comments about how huge I am. I am trying really hard to stay positive, but I am still a girl and I am still sensitive about my weight and its really not nice hearing people comment on how massive you are CONTINUOUSLY – even if the cause is pregnancy.

🙁

 

Demon emailer makes for an angry Sacha

Today, I am boshing out my angry lesbian.

We have established that I hate vague rambling discussions and or instructions, and these nearly made it onto my list of pet hates.

However, I still only have three official pet hates, (official because I have an endless ever growing list of things that annoy me, but three that will instantly piss me off)

I hate being patronized. It makes me arrogant and angry and ultimately turns me into the antichrist!

Don’t patronize me because

a) I am probably more intelligence than you

and

b) I can definitely do whatever it is that were doing better than you

So this new person has taken over the HR for the scheme that I am on. Supposedly they are “babysitting” it. Sorry the last time I checked I didn’t actually wear diapers anymore.

Anyway.

A little while ago we were asked to organise an event. Asked for ideas and then the reins were past over to us to get on with the event.

New girl starts, a little over a week after we were told to get on with it.

Newbie sends some really patronizing email giving us an arbitrary deadline for the next working day to ‘submit’ our presentations to her to ‘review’ them.

#rage instantly.

Firstly we were never given a deadline in the first place, secondly dont ask for something the next working day when its already the afternoon and I am rammed up to my eyeballs in work; and thirdly, the event was still a WHOLE month away. Your not in the private sector now love. Welcome to the public sector!

I responded with a polite email back suggesting that the deadline be pushed forward because the event was a long way away and that the deadline was a little close.

This earnt the newbie the nick name “Demon Emailer”

The ridiculous email continues

“I am sure that you all have been formulating your ideas for what you are going to talk about since the time you volunteered to do these sessions. ”

The response I SHOULD have sent:

No you patronizing bitch, I have not been formulating ideas, I offered to do this a week ago. I have been up to my eyeballs in real work besides I am conducting a 15 minute ice breaker I do not need to spend hours doing it, now fuck off and chill out.

I didn’t. I was polite.

Demon Emailer continues:

If your workload is such that you don’t think those timelines are workable, we have another couple of graduates who are interested in helping out

At this point I genuinely turned purple in the face at the audacity of the demon emailer. How dare you suggest that I am incapable of delivering a 15 minute session in a months time. No I do not need help, its FIFTEEN MINUTES of material. I could piss longer than that, this is not hard.

Anyway, after my hulk climbed back inside, and my face returned to its olivey colour, I decided to march up to the demon emailers office and ‘ave a word’

Demon emailer can’t be thinking they can get away with this for the rest of their time here!

Polite conversation was had. Through gritted teeth I hasen to add.

Its at this point that I am convinced I am working with a full on robot. I have never seen anyone fidget less in my life. The wind could have picked up and their hair wouldn’t have even budged plus their posture was waaay too straight to be normal.

We move on a couple of weeks.

Demon emailer decided that they wanted a rehersal of the event.

Much to irritation. Again, this is 15 minutes. Not hard.

Reluctantly I drag myself to this meeting.

Demon Emailer then says:

“Now then Sacha, let’s role play your piece shall we, lets practice all together (insert painfully perky smile) and then we can all make sure we are perfect. I have trained people across the world  and  run events for small groups to huge conferences, and I know that to look natural and unpracticed you need to practice practice practice”

#RAGE

Firstly, no I will not role play my section, I am not four, and we are not in drama class now love.

Secondly, your telling me your life story like I give a fuck.

Thirdly, you sat perfectly still for so long theres a fly nesting in your perfect hair (ok not true, but I wish it had been)

Fourthly, wipe that perky smile off your face before I do

Evidently I didn’t actually say any of these things, but I really wanted to.

*sigh*

I did refuse to participate though. I mean really, role playing my 15minute section. Delusional.

Life Fail

I am somewhat, lets call it ‘snowed under’ at the moment.

 

With the wedding a mere couple of months away, a full time job, part-time Masters and therefore assignments literally suffocating me, I am dying. Mostly, dying metaphorically, but it feels real. Plus I swear I found a grey hair… or five.

 

Then theres the normal day to day things which take up an alarming amount of time when you have none; such as cooking, cleaning (and why is the house always messy when you have no time to clean, and more to the point why do you feel the need to clean it when you should be studying *screams procrastination* but if I know its procrastination why can’t I seem to stop tidying instead of studying?!). You have washing (clothes and myself!), feeding the cats, making lunch for work yada yada yada; you get the point, we all have to live.

 

Then when any normal human would have enough to do, my insanity kicks in and I decide to add various things that apparently I do

a) for shits and giggles

and

b) to turn myself grey even quicker

Like attempting to write my first novel, and trying to start up an amateur cake company and lose weight. What the F*** was I thinking, doing these things in my SPARE (ha) time .

 

AND obviously thats before I have a social life. Which I do enjoy.

 

or more importantly a relationship, with the future wife.

 

Basically I am failing in all aspects of life right now.

 

I fell off the side of the planet about 18 months ago

 

Drowned in to do lists months ago

 

Was lost to coffee addiction and exhaustion weeks ago

 

and finally popped my clogs and entered ‘hysteria’ this morning when I had to get up extra early to car share with a colleague, because obviously I can afford to lose another half hours sleep… why not…

 

It’s really not like the cats don’t wake me up on the hour every hour because they can’t decide whether or not they want to be in or out of the house, and without a cat flap, Sacha has to dutifully get out of bed to let them in an out at all hours of the morning! Whos idea was it to have pets anyway, idiot.

 

Whilst I am on this rant, why is it with weddings that you get through one to do list, and twenty more appear… literally? Ok not twenty, but more, definitely more!

 

We finished a to do list, and I must have been momentarily on crack to enjoy the fleeting pleasure that crossing off the last item gave me. Because in that instant the gf turned round and asked me to write another one for all the other things we have to do, the fucking thing was twice as long.

 

And with that, I felt the last shred of hope that was clinging desperately to my soul being ripped out mercilessly!

Conniption- My Secret Inner Hulk

con·nip·tion/kəˈnipSHən/

Conniption
Noun: A fit of rage or hysterics

Conniption

I am literally the poster child for conniption, and angry lesbian!

As my dear friend likes to tell me on a regular basis.

I tend not to ‘do’ many emotions other than extremely angry or extremely happy.

This causes problems.

Mostly for other people, but occasionally for myself.

Particularly when people can’t handle me, and they make me feel like I need to moderate myself on their behalf. We don’t tend to stay acquainted for long.

Working in the public sector being a conniption is a massive problem.

People are often unsure how to take me, I am admittedly slightly unstable, (in a conniptiony type way- not mentally!) and they are never sure if I will react to something with a fit of rage, or a fit of hysterical laughter.

When someone has something important, or controversial to tell me I can see their unconscious wincing before they open their mouth… and then they brace themselves for whatever reaction they might get.

If I had more of a heart I’d feel bad about it. But I shan’t apologise for who I am, and if I missed a few emotional DNA strands along the whole birthing process well that ain’t really my fault is it?!

Thing is, usually I respond with red rage. This is normally a burst of momentary rage.

I would speak loudly.

(This is most important. I find it highly irritating that people always tell me that I shout at them.

I don’t

I am loud ALL THE TIME! Just because your little ears can’t handle any noise above a whisper, does not mean I am shouting)

I might spew some profanities at whomever had irritated me this time. This adds to their perception of me shouting.

I am not shouting. I am talking loudly, and….passionately.

And thats another thing. Why do people always take my passion for aggression?

I am loud, and passionate, therefore I MUST be aggressive?

AND WHY, why do they try to make out like its a bad thing, and make you feel bad for it?

Well I don’t, I am entirely proud of me, and won’t be made to feel bad about it.

Generally after an outburst of my inner hulk If you give me five minutes, I am over it.

They usually aren’t… for quite some time.

I don’t get this.

If people stopped getting offended all the time, we would all get on a lot better. People say offensive things to me all the time, you don’t see me crying over it.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” “sticks and stones”

For example, my manager recently told me:

” You really need to be a little bit less Sacha. Your personality is a risk to your reputation.”

I instantly felt my inner hulk smashing at my skin to get out.

Inner Hulk

I managed to contain my inner hulk.

Just.

However I did have several mental senarios run through my head – mostly of jumping across the desk and savagely punching him in the face, knocking a few teeth out and wiping the satisfied smirk smile off of their face.

I did none of them and contained myself, with great mental sacrifice.

After an hour long lecture from my manager about how I need to moderate myself, and how bad my personality is blah blah blah… As I left the scene of crime, my manager had the cheek to tell me not to get road rage on the way home.

Cunt.

Explicit Vagueness

Now, I have only been a public sector worker for a mere 10/11 months. However, I have seen some truly bizarre ongoings in my short time.

But today, my manager has truly out done themselves.

I am blunt.

I do not sugar coat, and I dislike detest people who beat around the bush.

I can’t be dealing with vague ramblings (as we know), mutterings, utterings, waffle, drivel, small talk, or any other nonsense that comes out of peoples mouth. If you have something to say, say it.

Now I have had some seriously vague rambly type instructions from all the managers I’ve had so far, but today has beaten them all.

I was asked to write an article for some publication or other. Given a set of bullet points of what to include.

Simple, yes?

NO.

Why is it public sector managers insist on correcting everything you do?

It is beyond me, to understand how its efficient for anyone to do a piece of work, that is perfectly adequate, and yet their manager insists on correcting it to within an inch of its life.

If your so certain about what you want in the first place, SURELY its quicker, easier and more efficient for you (dear manager) to just do it yourself?

Its not like that word you inserted, or the comma you added really made the article that much better did it?!

I digress.

No, No, I will continue with this actually.

Seriously though, how disempowering, and demotivating does a manager need to be. You would think that following a set of bullet points to write a page long article was simple enough. I have a First Class degree for godsake. I know damn well that what I wrote was fine. If not brilliant! (probably not brilliant)

When it came back it was utterly massacred. Ruined, mutated into some vague waffling nothingness.

ANYWAY…

In fear of having my work brutalised again, I asked if a paragraph I’d re-written was sounding more like he wanted it.

Obviously the answer was no.

“Ok.” I said. “What would you like me to add…. or remove”

“Well..” My manager starts.

“Perhaps you could….” *Insert excessively long pause, whilst I try to control my eye from twitching with irritation at said pause*

“umm, well we need to be a bit more explicit” My manager states

“RIght. Sooo I should add an example with some statistics then, yeah?” I asked.

“Well no, don’t actually put statistics in. We need to be a bit more vague than that.”  My manager answered.

You can imagine the look on my face at this point. My response was:

“So, let me see if I have this straight; you want me to be a bit more explicit, whilst being quite vague?”

Need I say more.