First Nations

So, today in Canada, and elsewhere around the globe, First Nation people’s stood together in unison to have their voices heard. Rather than kowtowing to Harper and the Queen’s government they rattled at the gates on Parliament Hill and threw down the flag in defiance. It seems they are no longer wishing to travel the white road, but are happy for Canada to meet them on the red.

It got me thinking. This little country of mine has a lot to answer for really. How many countries have they raped and pillaged in the name of progress. We have the cheek to call the Vikings savages, yet we have done exactly the same things as they have, only whilst wearing a suit! Treaties, Agreements, lies. Who wins at the end of the day, certainly not the indigenous population.

We are a bunch of mongrels after all. I’ve lost count through history how many times this small isle has been invaded and over-taken. I think the First Nation people’s of England are probably the Welsh! Even my own family couldn’t call themselves ‘of England’, what with a mixture of English, Italian, Irish, Scottish and Welsh blood coursing through my veins. Not to mention the Norse, Norman and countless other influences over the generations.

So from this I kind of begin to see why our nation is the way it is. They say a child raised with mental or physical abuse will go on to be the same with its offspring. So it seems apt that a nation that has spent it’s early history being invaded, perpetuated that by invading other First Nations.

Is it jealousy that drives us? As we lack the purity do we strive to steal it from others? What ever it is I wish it would stop.

The wind is changing. No longer will the lands stolen from its Ancestors be allowed to be raped and pillaged. No longer will they kowtow to the white man who pedals his lies. Stand up in support for our brothers and sisters, after all we are all if the same Mother.

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Our wedding cake

The Ant and Bee Wedding.

We were so lucky that I happened to notice that Lorna had set up her own company…

“Oo, what are you doing hun?”
Having worked with Lorna a couple of years back, and knowing our long and drooley chats about food I was most pleased to hear
“I’ve started my own company making hand painted cakes.”

The die was cast, Lorna was our girl. Follow the link and have a look at some of her other posts too. Her work is simply stunning.

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Baby H is well and truly announcing its presence now and is often thought to be either breakdancing or re-enacting scenes from the first Alien movie. I was, by all accounts, an out and out wriggler and adept foot poker-outer-er before I was born and so I’m guessing bub is taking after me.

A favourite game for us at the moment is watching where it will strike next. We can see writhing below the surface now and eagerly await the next kick. Well, I say eagerly, but not always. Interestingly, bub has decided that this is also a great game to play at three in the morning which means Vic wakes up and I end up on the sofa.

I’m a snorer you see, and since packing on a few christmas puddings and a turkey or two over Xmas it’s gotten worse. Add to that a cold and you’ve got a recipe for a vibrating bed! So I often voluntarily exile myself to the sofa so that all three of us can get some sleep.

I’m currently lay awake at 4am having had no sleep as we are staying at my parents this weekend for our third Xmas of the year! So no sofa to kip on. *yawn*

It’s not a bad thing really. It means I’m getting myself conditioned for some sleepless nights when the baby arrives, and as Vic has been quite tired, she gets to have a slightly more peaceful night.

Sleep well.


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I’m sure it is…

“I’m certain I felt something then”
“Isn’t it too early?”
“I dunno, but I know I can feel something there. Feel”
“Yeah, but maybe I’m just digesting my dinner?”

Scepticism abound, I moved forward safe in the knowledge that I knew what I knew.

Fast forward two and a half weeks. We’re now at 18 weeks +3. Vic tells me yesterday that she’s been getting these weird flutters or rumblings resonating in groinal region. They’ve been on and of for the past week apparently. Baby playing on a ligament perhaps? I’m convinced.

I take up my nightly vigil with my hand on bump. I’m convinced, at times that I can feel movement. I don’t think Vic’ll be convinced until Baby H is punching her in the ribcage!

This is worse than Xmas!!

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Headaches and hot chocolate

Who’d’ve thunk it? For two weeks Vic was plagued with headaches, debilatating at times. It seems that blood glucose may well be partly to blame, and here was us blaming it all on the hormones!

It was only after a desperate plea on FB that one of Vic’s friends, Hannah, had brought to light that she too had suffered from bouts of headaches during pregnancy. Her cure all? A cup of hot chocolate before bed.

Where Vic has normally been fine with eating dinner at about half six in the evening and then not eating again until next morning, now it seems little baby H has other ideas. So Vic took up the challenge, could she beat the headaches with a cup of hot chocolate before bed.

Well, I’m glad to say that so far it’s a resounding yes, thank goodness! She’s also started using a product called 4head whenever she notices a sign of a headache during the day. It seems to be helping. Whether all this is psychosomatic or not is a moot point. What matters is it works! Interestingly, one night I forgot to make Vic a hot chocolate. We were both tired and went off to bed without giving it a second thought. Next morning, you guessed it, headachesville.

Such a simple fix. Oo, and no I don’t get commission. Wish I did though.

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The scare

So, a couple of weeks in to the pregnancy and we have our first scare. Vic had a bit of a bleed. I put it down to the fact that Vic had done a little lifting at work the day before. We didn’t want to run the risk of it being anything else, so we got on the phone to NHS Direct. They were wonderfully helpful and within minutes the out of hours doctor of our local surgery was calling us back. Sadly there was nothing they could do, it being a Saturday, so we were told to book an appointment on Monday morning at the surgery.

Appointment booked, off we trotted to the surgery that morning to see the doctor. In typical fashion we had an hours wait before we were seen. Eventually a call went up for Victoria Houghton. I looked around, someone else with my surname! Some day I’ll get used to the fact that my wife is now a Houghton, rather than a Scott!!

The doctor was great and put our minds at rest. He didn’t think there was anything to worry about but booked us in for a scan at the hospital the next day. This was a bit of a bonus as we had actually booked in for a private scan on the following Saturday after being advised by our friend who is a midwife.

The next day we headed over to the hospital for our appointment. We weren’t 100% as to where we should be going, so we headed in to the maternity building first. On the way in we bumped in to a nurse wearing the same Converse as Vic. After a quick chat about how cool they were we headed to reception, only to be told that we needed to be in the main building. Typical! Off we went and signed in on the fancy machines. So fancy in fact that it sent us to the wrong place. Well, it tried to. Lucky for us some old fella offered us some assistance. After initially trying to send us to the building that the machine had told us we had to go to, he realised what we were there for and showed us the little corner where we had to sit and wait.

Never a grumpier band of nurses and sonographers have I seen in one place. I appreciate that they probably have to break the news to a fair few women that they are not pregnant, but really, is it that hard to smile?

We sat and waited for what seemed like a lifetime. Each moment that passed we feared all the more that maybe we weren’t pregnant after all. Each moment that passed saw another couple enter the little room with the grumpy sonographer and come out smiling and clutching their little scan pictures. One thing we noticed was the fact that their due dates were all out. Each one she saw were told that they had in fact got their dates wrong…then it was our turn.

In to the little room. Up on to the bed. Vic had to lie there with her pants pulled down a bit and paper tucked in to her drawers. The sonographer said it might take a little while for her to find the baby as it was so small at this stage, nothing more than a grain of rice. How wrong was she!! No sooner had she placed on the probe than I could see the little bub’s heart pounding away like a good un. Oh, the relief. She almost immediately congratulated us and Vic started to cry with relief and no small amount of pure joy. We were going to be parents!! A few checks and measurements later and we were on our way out. Vic clutching a lump of tissue as the sonographer had squirted gel all over her trousers! Off Vic popped for a pee. One of the joys of a scan is you need a full bladder. Then they press on it really hard with the probe. I’m glad it was Vic not me! It took about 2 or 3 minutes for the sonographer to come out with our little pictures. One thing we smiled about. Our date was spot on.

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We’re having a baby!!

It’s been an unusual and exciting couple of months. We found out we’re having a baby! Vic missed her last period and on the last bank holiday weekend in August she could wait no longer and I had to rush out at 9am on bank holiday Monday to find a pregnancy test. I say rush because Vic was desperate for a pee and we had read that it was best to do the test with the first pee of the day. I’d spent that morning before heading out researching this and so left forearmed with an idea as to what was the best stick for Vic to pee on. Funnily, more recently, some friends who have just had a baby, asked if I was stingy because I hadn’t opted for the digital test which told you how far along you were! All the ladies who had posted on the forums had said not to bother. So I went for the recommended bog standard Superdrug stick.

I was amazed that Superdrug were even open at 9am, let alone on a bank holiday. But they were, thankfully. I also picked up a First Response stick, because, after all, who was really going to trust the cheapie, two for one, Superdrug offer!! Vic was fit for bursting when I left so it wasn’t surprising that just as I was just getting back to the car I got a phone call asking where I was. I headed back as fast as I could, thankfully I wasn’t far and was blessed with clear roads early on a bank holiday Monday.

After arriving back Vic rushed in to the bathroom with the Superdrug Special. She shouted for me to set the timer for 3 minutes. The deed was done, the stage was set. I also needed to pee so I turfed her out of the bathroom almost immediately. As soon as I entered I looked at the stick.
‘We’re going to have a baby’ I calmly shouted through the bathroom door.
‘What!?’ was the response.
‘It’s showing positive, we’re having a baby’.
‘But I’ve only just done it’.
‘Well it’s definitely positive’ I shouted.
Vic was a bit stunned. Knowing you’ve missed you’re period and actually finding out you’re pregnant are obviously quite different things. When we recounted this story to the Midwife she advised us that next time, just pee in a pot and dip the stick in!! Why didn’t we think of that.

The next step was telling the folks. A lot of people keep their pregnancy quiet until their twelfth week. Vic, being very close to her folks and sister, wanted them to be involved right from the beginning. But first, I had to tell my folks. Now, to say this was an easy task was an understatement. Ever since Vic and I got married, my mum has been chomping at the bit for us to tell them we are pregnant. She was delighted. Totally thrilled, and already planning ahead, even though we told her not to!

After a bit of breakfast we headed over to see Vic’s folks. There was an air of nervous excitement between Vic and I, we kept squidging each others hands and exclaiming that we couldn’t believe it had happened so quick. We decided to wait for a short while upon arriving at Vic’s folks before telling them the news. After a few forced conversation starters Vic blurted out that she had something to tell them. ‘You’re going to be Grandparents!’. A microseconds silence and then Jan almost squealed with delight. To this day I wish I had taken a picture of the moment. Chris’s face was stuck between a smile, puzzlement and shock. Was he going to be a Grandad, he was going to be a Grandad. His little girl was having a baby. For a millisecond I feared for my life. I’d bespoiled his baby daughter. Then he remembered we were married, that he actually liked me and that we’d already discussed children and he smiled. Phew!!

We sat chatting for a while before the phone rang. It was Katie. Vic’s little sister. Vic was nervous about telling her and had hoped she was going to be able to do it at home, but Katie phoned first. After a natter with her Mum, Katie was passed over to Vic. Excited squeals and giggles, typical of the Scott girls, announced that the news had broken. Katie was pleased.

The rest of the afternoon disappeared in a blur of 1980s baby books and sound advice from Vic’s folks. Vic reminded them of all the things she used to be made to do, like posing for photos in the rubbish bin and helping scrape the wallpaper. All at the age of 1 or 2 years old!

Antenatal stuff next.

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