I’ve commandeered Mummy Black’s laptop, she would be pissed if she knew. But she doesn’t so it’s ok. Unless you tell her, in which case I’ll cry and then pee poo on you…the runny kind.

See, parents think they know everything. They don’t. Not really. Cause I know everything. I know every trick under the sun to rile mummy and mama up until a force 100 hurricane blows through the whole house.

Bedtime.

Yep. Bedtime is the secret.

I have discovered that the insurmountable cot mountain, is in fact, NOT insurmountable at all. The total opposite, as it turns out.

It’s a doddle to climb out of. All one has to do is hook a foot, lean a belly and flip flop, mums your mama, I’m on the floor.

If it weren’t for the crafty thud I’d be home free and playing cars. Nonetheless, toddlers of the bloggisphere, here are my top 15 tips for bedtime.

1. Climb out of the cot at intermittent times. This ensures mummy has gone downstairs for the 28th time.
2. Listen carefully for mummies bottom touching the sofa. It’s essential for the timing to be right. As soon as she sits on the sofa (downstairs), climb out of bed. Again. Loudly.
3. Watch what your mum says. They only give two warnings. Then you get the silent treatment, at which point, go all guns blazing on the giggling. Silent treatment = a game.
4. Throw toys. LOTS of toys….at the walls. And maybe definitely at the window.
5. Empty all your clothes and scatter sporadically across the floor. Proceed to hide toys under the clothes so that mummy steps on things – warning – duck as this causes arms to fly.
6. Also listen to what she says – there are a lot of half words – I’m convinced they are naughty words – stock pile these for later combing and subsequent usage.
7. If your parents don’t drink much – make sure you pick a night to start cot climbing when they are out of comfort food.
8. Sing. Loudly. That annoying nursery rhyme works best.
9. The door is a musical instrument in the form of a bass drum. The neighbours especially like this one.
10. Jump up and down as hard as you can, I hear you can go through the roof. Duno what that means but it sounds cool.
11. Scream until you’re sick and then cry because you were sick. (note that second cry gets you hugged)
12. Repeat ‘Schtorreeey, schtory, storrrrrry’ 89 times.
13. Run in circles
14. Whimper
15. Whine in your best parent guilt tripping voice. Trust me, you can break them.

Warning – definitely try these at home. 

If you liked this post, why not follow my mum so you never miss a thing? Click here. 

The post Teaching Your Parents About Bedtime – Lessons from a Terror Tot appeared first on Sacha Black.

This is quite possibly the most exciting personal post I have written in a while. The posts about my life and memoirs seem to be getting rarer, but this blog was created originally as a memoir, so I refuse to let go of that side completely, no matter how much it’s evolved, so sorry to all the folk out there who signed up to read all about writing, this ones a memoir.

A long time ago, I was told I probably wouldn’t be able to have children. It’s a long story, but it ended up in me falling pregnant rather quickly and a hasty retreat by the fertility clinic.

Thankfully we managed to get pregnant, and nine extremely long months later, and 3.5 days of excruciating labour, baby Black was born. The best year of my life followed, and a difficult decision about sperm.

The wife and I thus far haven’t really wanted another child. Not for any other reason than, we need to pay off the cost of the first baby, and buy a house to make sure we can provide for him first before having another one.

We have spent a long time discussing whether having another one would suit us, and our family. We bickered a lot to start with, but I guess that’s normal for most couples. As time has gone on we have continued to learn lots of parenting lessons and are continually growing together on our journey.

Deciding whether to save sperm for another child has been a topic of much contention. It’s difficult trying to predict what we might or might not want to do in a few years time.

Of course, even if we didn’t save sperm we could have another child using another donor, but if the option is there to use the same donor, we are both in agreement that we would prefer to use them.

So we came to a cross road… To save or not to save? It’s an extremely costly affair saving sperm. To save enough for three attempts it’s a whopping £1000 for three years, and another £300 every three years to continue to have it stored.

BUT, we decided to save some, just in case. I am not saying we will have any more kids, as at the minute neither of us can see it happening, however, we are trying to protect our options, ensure that we aren’t taking our choices away and making a decision about how we will feel in 5 or 6 years time.

So there we have it… Very exciting news, the Black’s have a bank… a bank of sperm! (can’t help but giggle like a child about this!) But SHHHHH! It’s a secret!

The post Spermy, Spermy, Sperms! appeared first on Sacha Black.

WORST WEEK OF MY LIFE PEOPLE!!!

Babies apparently don’t appreciate this annual gift we are given of extra sleep, in fact, not only do they reject the gift, they completely ignore it, choosing instead to get up at the usual time (now an hour early) the joyous hour of 5am. Fuck the worm, I have never been a morning person. I choose to be a late bird, why oh why did my son not inherit this precious piece of me?!

This was genuinely me trying to get out of bed at 5am to get the boy this morning.

The thing is, he is doesn’t just affect the morning its also affecting the evening. Instead of going to be at 7, like normal we get to half past 6, and he goes all

Its horrendous. We have tried everything from distraction, to TV, to extra milk, and out and out bribery! nothing is working. So tomorrow we have asked friends to come round to try and distract him between half six and 7, in the vague hope ‘new faces’ might be exciting! sigh. My caffeine intake this week is actually offensive!

Anyone else suffering with Daylight Savings Time?

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So, this is a motherhood post.

Everybody knows about the terrible twos, how truly awful they are with screaming tantrums and public paddies.

Hideously embarrassing and the phase I suspect most parents dread in young children. BUT SERIOUSLY…. why did no one tell me about the horrific change that happens at ten months? My son is now ten and a half approaching eleven months, and it was like an alien literally took over his body and possessed his previously calm temperament.

Nappy changing is simply an impossibility without an army of spare hands, arms and legs to pin your gremlin of a child in place while you change them. Ok, so distraction occasionally works too, but not as well as it used to! He now likes to pitch an absolute bitch of a screaming fit, when I get him dressed, try and do his teeth, or anything that even remotely changes his current situation.

In spite of the fact I’ve read a million mum blogs, help sites read books and compared notes with a hundred friends, it kind of doesn’t matter what they say or suggest because baby black, is just going to make life difficult his own way! When I find a solution I’ll report back!

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This blog has had so many incarnations – rants about work, struggles with art and writing, and my battle with fertility, but always my memoirs.

But now, I am a mum, a worker bee, a wife, a writer, and hopefully a blogger again. This blog will be twofold, my memoirs on being a mum, and my memoirs on writing.

I hope you will follow me on this journey.

The post On Being Sacha Black appeared first on Sacha Black.

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!

The post The Abomination That is Disney! appeared first on Sacha Black.

The thing is, we ask for advice even when we don’t really need it, don’t really want it and then, we don’t really follow it!

I have a bee in my bonnet about this because I annoy myself asking for advice.

Why do I do it?

I… Infact WE all already know the answer. Don’t we?

For example:

Should I go out tonight?

Even though your asking with a little wry smile you already know your going, so why do we bloody ask?

Should I eat a second bar of chocolate?

No Sach, of course you shouldn’t, because once you do, your guna be wracked with guilt over the calories you have guzzled, feel guilty, fat and then reach for a third bar to console yourself – why do I do it? I just shouldn’t ask because I already know the answer!

The real irritation I have with asking for advice is really, deep down, we’re all just looking for self justification. It’s kind of arrogant! We want everyone else to agree and justify what we want to do, even when we know it’s a bad idea.

Oh what should I do? – my (fictional) boyfriends cheated on me… again – should I take him back? I mean he is really sorry this time.

Why can’t we just be confident in our decisions? In what we already know we are going to do. Why do we pretend and deny that we haven’t made our minds up?! The moment I ask for advice I’ve already made my mind up. I know it, whoever I’m asking knows it too. Yet we both persist in dancing around the perpetual advice fence: you justify whatever course of action you really want to take, and the person giving advice rolls around the reasons why it’s a bad idea.

What’s the point? Waste of air.

AND…. Even when we do get advice we never bloody follow it! Humans are awful at following advice. We all give it, and even when we ask our dear friends what they would tell themselves, we still don’t follow it!

So – I decided –

Fuck advice, I already know what I want to do….

I have been searching for the right writing course for two years, the course to give me the right knowledge to finish my novel and kick start what I hope will be a writing career – my dream.

Why I thought to ask whether or not to do it I have no idea. I only got annoyed with what I heard, because really, all I wanted was confirmation I was doing the right thing, and who can actually give me that? No one but me!

Yes it’s 350 quid, but I can pay it over a few months, yes I have a newborn. But so what. Who do I actually need to justify it to?

Does having an infant mean my life goes on hold? That my dreams stop?No. More to the point, if I did put my life on hold, what kind of role model is that for my child? Do I want him to learn that you can be lazy and find excuses not to follow your dreams? Or do I want him to know that he has to work, hard, play hard and never give up….

So, I’ll ignore the pessimism, stop asking for advice and do it anyway. My money, my time, my choice.

I might be, covered in sick, soaked in pee, stinking of baby poop, slightly delirious, and temporarily daisy the milking cow, but that doesn’t mean I can’t follow my dreams…..

Even if I have to do it one handed, smelling of baby fluids and caked in puke. Failing that I’ll do it in the bath once the boys asleep!

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Understandably I have been a bit slack at blogging because…. Baby Black was born on 30th November 2013.

My labour… WHAT can I say….It was pretty traumatic due to the length of the labour but in the end everything was fine.

I laboured from Thursday morning 28th (my due date!!) right through to Saturday night when he was born so a very long time!!

So, I started some sporadic contractions on the 27th, but officially starting continuous contractions in the early hours of the morning on the 28th. I went to hospital at midnight on the 29th (night of the 28th but morning of the 29th), and despite having what the midwife said were strong contractions 2minutes apart I was actually only  1cm dilated. Considering I had been contracting ALL fricking day I was devastated!

So I was sent home with paracetamol and codeine. I continued to contract through the night every 4 minutes, by 3:30pm on the 29th I was so exhausted and in so much pain that I couldn’t take it any more, so we went back to hospital despite the contractions only being 7-8 minutes apart.  When I got to hospital I was STILL only 2 cm dilated, so they gave me a sweep and suggested that I should have a single shot of morphine so that I could at least sleep through for a few hours. So I took it as I had been awake for 36 hours and had had contractions the previous night (27th) so had barely slept that night either. I sort of slept – if you count waking up every 4 minutes to record a contraction!!

At some point in the middle of the night on the 29th (morning of the 30th) they discovered I was 4cm dilated and officially in active labour, however I was in a LOT of pain, which is when they discovered that he was back to back…. explaining why it was taking so long for me to dilate as at this point id been contracting for two straight days with just that shot of morphine and some paracetamol!! (the other reason the labour took so long is that he was really big – but i will explain that later)

My waters broke at some point between 2 and 4am on the morning of the 30th I forget when exactly, but that is when the real pain began it was excruciating I mean really like nothing I’d ever felt. I threw up a full litre of liquid I was in so much pain, so I was given gas an air (a hilarious couple of hours that my wife can regale humorous stories about me demanding to buy the gas and air and waving the tube around and shaking my bump!) I managed to get in the pool (where I wanted my birth) for all of about 10 minutes.

They discovered my cervix was swollen and I had halted dilation at 4cm and wasn’t getting any further. I then asked for an epidural because after 48 hours and then being told he was back to back and not dilating any more I gave up (sad to say) but I literally didn’t have anything left and I was in agony. As it happened they would of given me one anyway because as soon as they put it in they also hooked me up to a  syntocinon drip because my waters had broken they couldn’t allow my dilation to stop. Due to the exhaustion however all my veins collapsed in my hands and they had to get an anaesthetist to canula me… think i ended up with 5 failed canulars in total!

My active labour stage was 20 hours…. so I continued to contract from when the epi was put in at 6 or 7am until 9pm that night when he was born. But I was a bit rubbish at pressing the epidural button so I still had a lot of movement in my legs, and knew when I was contracting.

Unfortunately at this point I began to spike a fever due to some unknown infection or other, so they started IV antibiotics but not in time for them all to get through to the baby, so we ended up having to stay in hospital for a week. Baby A also then got jaundice so was under a lamp for the best part of a day.

So the actual birth… I had stopped pressing the epidural button about an hour before I started to push because I wanted to still at least feel part of the need to push. Which I am happy to say I could – I was telling the midwife when I felt like I wanted to push and I was always right –

It took 55 minutes of pushing and thankfully despite a ridiculously long labour I did it, by myself, no assistance needed (except an epidural!) which I am sad that I had to use, but it was necessary anyway in the end.

The midwife said she was very impressed and couldn’t believe I was hiding such a whopper of a baby in there!!

He was born at 20:49 on the 30th November weighing 9lb1oz

My body is totally massacred though, I have some muscle separation but considering his size its not really a surprise!! So I have been referred to a physio in Jan, amazingly because I didn’t panic the Midwife was able to control my delivery and I only had a minor tear 4 stitches – 2 inside 2 out. But I had several grazes and part of my labia ripped/tore off and it wasn’t spotted until I examined myself several days later so it had healed unfortunately – so I feel a bit wounded over that. I am layered in stretch mark scars too. But the worst body torture which could of ended up with me in hospital was a retained placenta. I kept telling the midwives that something was wrong down below, and I was examined twice, but they couldn’t see anything wrong. Well a few days later I started to develop what can only be described as a tongue dangling out of my vagina – I was incredibly concerned that they had failed to stitch a piece of vaginal wall back in or something. The day after leaving hospital a midwife is meant to visit you  – It got to 4pm and I started to think that no one was coming, so I phoned the hospital and doctors surgery and they sent the on call midwife…

Now this was actually my community midwife much to my horror – She is incredibly attractive, and I remember saying to the wife how mortified I would be if she ever had to examine me!

Well anyway after a hilarious few minutes trying to find said tongue – which had disappeared she grabbed the end and asked me to cough and much to my horror I felt a long warm sensation – I thought I had urinated on her! – I hadn’t!! She pulled out half of baby A’s membrane one of the largest pieces she has seen- she told me that if I hadn’t been on antibiotics it would have rotted – and she’s not sure why it didn’t rot anyway as it was a week post birth, not only that she’s not sure why I didn’t haemorrhage or get septicaemia (something my aunt got when she had a retained placenta). Anyway – she got it out and I wasn’t infected thank god. But I am so glad I stuck to my guns and kept asking people to examine me.

Baby A has taken to breast feeding like a dream we are both smitten and he’s perfect – but then we would be biased!!

Theres a lot more I can update from our week in hospital and the first three weeks of his life but enough for now

The post Baby Black has been born! appeared first on Sacha Black.

I had a funny turn this week – went all pale and sweaty and ghost like, and I nearly fainted. I got sent home from work and worked from home for two days.

I feel exhausted – like totally utterly and completely drained. I want to cry every morning trying to get out of bed and force myself to work. I sit at my desk and I can feel heavy weights dragging the bags under my eyes lower. I am exhausted to my bones, to my soul, my very core.

I really feel like the funny turn was probably exhaustion related. In fairness I have changed job, moved house – fully redecorated the entire house, started and completed a dissertation and a huge work submission all whilst being pregnant and the only time off ive had is 5 days (2 of which were a weekend) when I was ill. So I haven’t really had any time off so I am not surprised I am unwell.

But heres the thing, I have 4 full weeks left at work and I have to go in for one day for a big work conference a week later – that’s compulsory. But I feel like my body is giving up.

I could leave work a week earlier…. I could. I am due to leave at about 37.5 weeks but I could leave around 36 if I shifted a weeks leave from the end of my maternity to this side. But the thought of doing that makes me feel like a failure, I feel like I would be failing the baby before he even got here, giving up a weeks worth of time with him, to rest. I cant seem to get my mind out of that mindset… it just seems wrong.

I don’t really know what to do.

I have a weeks leave to play with, I could work 4 day weeks for the next 4 weeks, or I could split the hours and work 2-2.5 hours less a day – but that feels like a waste – like I am not really getting anything from using a whole weeks leave. Or I could leave work in 3 weeks instead of 4… or I could just man up and leave when I planned too in 4 weeks time…

What should I do????

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We went to our first of two antenatal classes the other night, and boy did it start awkwardly!

We rocked up fashionably late – by total accident – we both despise being late, and the wife had been sent home from work as she was in excruciating pain from her bad back still from the car accident – Anyway – she slept most of the day away after swallowing a load of painkillers the doc had given her. After an epic three hour snooze and with barely 30 minutes to get to class I finally plucked up enough courage to wake her from what can only be described as some kind of zombie death sleep! I really didn’t think I would be able to wake her!

We rocked up – slightly late – with EVERYONE gawping at us, as we were CLEARLY the only gays in the village! and we awkwardly sat in the last two remaining seats, right in front of the strangest tutor I have ever witnessed.

This tutor – paler than a vampire, with an accent that was so confused she must have lived in every country in the world.

During the course she brandished an alarming wooden plank that depicted the dilation of the cervix which she then proceeded to push a babies head through the 10cm circle… to which all the women began to cringe slightly and I tried not to whimper and sob in utter despair!

I was a bit disappointed in the class to be honest – I only found out one new piece of information about some vitamin K that the doctors give babies straight after birth. The wife was like… “what do you expect your a geek….” she has a point!

Anyway – What this class taught me, is that I absolutely, love my wife, and wouldn’t be without her.

The tutor split the class into ‘girls’ and ‘boys’ – so my poor wife made the awkward journey over to sit in the ‘boys’ circle to discuss how they were going to support their wives.

WELL….. having been surrounded by women for so long – I had completely forgotten how utterly useless men can be.

Suggestions they came up with included – making sure you had the take out number because they deliver to the maternity unit – clearly thinking about their stomachs.

When I suggested that they should pack the hospital bag because they would be rooting around it as we were going to be in no state to look for shit one of the men turned round and said

“thats the womens job” – DICK HEAD.

This made me cross so I verbally dropped him on his arse and everyone giggled.

Anyway – this continued, and all the good suggestions that they had come up with I would look over to my wife and mouth “did you say that?” and she would give me that cute little smirk she does and nod….

Sigh, swoon, so proud. bloody love my wife!! <3

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