Safety

PostingCaffeine linked to miscarriage

coffee_Small.jpgArticle in The Times saying just two cups of coffee per day could cause miscarriage. "The main message for pregnant women is that they probably should consider stopping caffeine consumption during pregnancy," says the scientist who led the US study.

Pat O’Brien, a consultant obstetrician at University College Hospital, London, and spokesman for the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists, is quoted saying: “This is the best evidence we now have on the subject and I will advise patients to avoid caffeine completely, at least for the first 12 weeks of pregnancy. Good studies have shown it may be safer to drink caffeine after that, but no more than 200 mg a day is still to be recommended.”

The Times helpfully gives caffeine doses:

(caffeine in a 150ml drink):

100mg in coffee

39mg in tea

15mg in a caffeinated soft drink such as cola

2mg in hot chocolate

2mg in decaffeinated coffee

I didn't have a problem with coffee during the pregnancy I lost. But I couldn't bear the taste or smell of coffee in the first trimester with this baby - maybe nature's way of keeping the pregnancy safe. Nowadays I manage the odd cup. And I couldn't imagine life without a morning cup of tea. Nectar.

What do you think of the new caffeine limits? Could you/did you stick to them in pregnancy?

Posted 21 January 2008 11:29 | Number of comments: 14 | Comments

Health Pregnancy Safety Miscarriage

PostingUnruly regulations

safe_Small.jpgHere's a book that sounds like required reading for every parent of a young child. Playing it Safe by Alan Pearce, published by those clever people at The Friday Project, is a collection of all the silly health and safety stories from the press. There are gems about taps that limit the temperature in your bath, a ban on palm trees in Torbay (sharp leaves - ouch!) and the school that stopped children playing football in case they got hurt. There are even warnings on the back cover about the book itself - "Beware of paper cuts".

I say 'required reading' for parents of young children because since Beanie arrived 18 months ago I know I could benefit from a reality check on the difference between responsible parenting and crazed health-and-safety lunacy. I'm not proud. I can admit when I need help.

I write this as a mother whose cream sitting room is now accessorised with grey lagging pipes and gaffer tape, strapped to every conceivable surface where Beanie might hurt herself. 

Before Beanie arrived I too used to find health and safety silliness amusing, just like this book does. Yes, I was hip once. Really. Oh, how I laughed to myself at childproof locks, 'corner protection devices' and over-protective parents. You know the type, the ones who won't let their kids eat uncooked cake mixture - raw eggs/salmonella, 'Ooh, dangerous!' - and freak out in pregnancy about unpasteurised cheeses and eating a mouthful of peanuts (so risky with potential nut allergies).

Then when Beanie arrived all that changed. The world turned overnight into a dangerous and frightening place. Husband and I began to take seriously some of the things Playing it Safe is mocking. We don't see the funny side in turning down the central water thermostat (if only we could find it) to lower bath water temperature. Our sense of humour (and proportion) has run dry.

On Beanie's first night at home husband and I were in such a state of panic we became alarmed our new wardrobe might emit toxic glue fumes that would harm her.

"She's wheezing!" husband announced in panic about his daughter at about 3.30am. We lost the plot so badly we ended up all sleeping in another room, far from the offending wardrobe and any risk of pollution. It was one of the worst nights of my life, yet was meant to have been one of the best.

In our defence, sleep deprivation did play a part in the madness.

Even so, a copy of Playing It Safe might remind us that it's possible to get through life safely without following every nutty regulation dreamt up by jobs' worth bureacrats. Or inventing ones of our own, for that matter.

I plan to place a copy in the bathroom. Where I often plant reading material I want my husband to see.

Somewhere close to where I imagine the water thermostat might be.

Posted 09 October 2007 16:58 | Number of comments: 12 | Comments

Childcare Domestic chaos Home Kit Missing sanity Perfectionism Safety Books

PostingObsessed

The night after Kate and Gerry McCann were named as suspects in the disappearance of their own child, I dreamt my duvet had turned into a rippling black cloud that was engulfing me in a sea of darkness. I woke up dripping with sweat to hear Beanie next door screaming, and clambered out of bed, pushing away the darkness.

No news story has ever affected me like this before, except maybe the Soham murders. I've become obsessed with this latest twist in the case of a little girl who went missing in mysterious circumstances in Portugal five months ago. Obsessed to the point where I can hardly talk of anything else. To the point where when I wake up it's the first thing I think about.

Since the story broke in May, it's felt like a part of me, of who I am as a parent. I've based so much of my behaviour since the little girl went missing on the assumption she was abducted from their ground-floor Portuguese holiday apartment.

I've hassled Beanie's nursery to tighten security, refused to leave her with anyone except close family and a handful of trusted friends and planned our holiday around being with her all the time. Beanie, like Madeleine, is pretty and blonde; just a couple of years younger than the missing girl. But so many of us parents, if not all of us, identified with the McCanns, with the unspeakable calamity that seemed to have befallen them.

The Madeleine story appeared to embody every parent's worst fears. The stuff of myth and monsters. Now it seems the real truth might be darker still. I hope not. But I get a bad feeling it might be.

Posted 09 September 2007 11:40 | Number of comments: 28 | Comments

Childcare News Safety

PostingUnfit for human consumption

This posting was meant to be all about a trip Beanie and I made yesterday to visit a local attraction that opens to the public only a handful of times every year. This local well features some fine mosaics, statues and columns and we had a good visit to its dank interior, despite the notice warning the water was 'unfit for human consumption'. Someone had thought to put tea lights around the pump, which gave the well an atmospheric, almost religious feel. Beanie made friends with a Scots terrier called Toby.

I say 'meant to be' because shortly after we got home Beanie was ferrying some toys from a basket in the window over to me when she tripped on a cushion, fell and cut open her forehead on the coffee table, blood spurting everywhere. She looked so indignant and shocked, as much as anything else, it broke my heart. It happened in an instant, as we heard people warning these things would do.

Luckily, there's not been too much damage. She calmed down quite quickly before I drove her to hospital, where they saw her almost immediately and patched her up. They don't think there'll be much of a scar, and with luck the cut will heal in a few days. Seeing some of the other children there and the state they were in, I began to wonder if I was making too much of a fuss, since I was crying more than Beanie by this point. Beanie's Grandad came over to lend moral support, since Granny was out on the golf course, in a fight-to-the-death with other members of the Veteran Ladies team, and Va-vay was away.

Talk about stable doors/bolting horses, but last night I taped some old towels to the table corners to prevent a repeat. As for Beanie, she has recovered her old jubilance and now looks quite the proper member of a pirate crew, sporting a bandage over her left eye, which she scratches at from time to time.

Posted 27 August 2007 09:42 | Number of comments: 24 | Comments

Daughter Health Home Safety

PostingJob for life

Apparently if the typical stay-at-home mother were paid for her work, she'd earn the annual equivalent of £70,000, at least according to a set of so-called "compensation experts" based in the US. Unfortunately, the survey doesn't make clear who's going to fork out the moolah for all our hard work. Government? Husband? Children? Will our kids add this to their student loans? But still, it's nice to know we have some earning power left, even if it is mostly theoretical. I first read about this at Manic Mama.

My main objection to this survey, produced by Salary.com, is that I think they've missed quite a few important activities from their list of maternal roles, which falls far short of covering the full job spec. So I've listed a few additional roles they might want to consider next time they're doing the survey.

This is their list of jobs making up the £70,000 salary: 1. Housekeeper 2. Cook 3. Psychologist 4. Day care centre teacher 5. Laundry machine operator 6. Van driver 7. Facilities manager 8. Janitor 9. Computer operator 10. Chief executive officer (though try telling that one to Dad).

And here are the ones I think they missed. Apologies for some of them being so medieval. Please let me know your thoughts on any others that should be on the list.

1. Nightwatchperson   Okay, gone is the lantern or candle of yesteryear, replaced by more up-to-date equivalents, like the Tomy baby monitor. And it's more dressing gown than big caped cloak and boots. But there's still the same lonely, cold pacing around after midnight, to check that all's well, investigating cries in the night. And what about some extra money for unsociable hours, I'd like to know?

2. Dancer/Singer   Before having my daughter I considered myself a fairly shy and inhibited person, except when drunk. Now I never drink but will sing, dance and cavort almost anywhere if I reckon there's a chance it'll make my daughter stop crying. "Old McDonald had a farm, ey-ay-ey-ay-oh!!!"

3. PR Officer   "You'll never guess what our beautiful daughter did at nursery today! She pulled herself up to standing using just a shoebox for balance!" I almost have to stop myself from issuing a press release. And unlike many esteemed PRs, I actually, really, truly believe in how marvellous this all is....

4. Health and Safety Officer   Detaching Mr Bear's pink nightcap, lest my daughter swallow it, nagging long-suffering husband to nail bookshelves to the wall, covering sockets, hiding toilet cleaner, keeping daughter away from dishwasher and oven, begging kind neighbours not to paint their front door while we're around...

5. Journalist   I've filled notebooks with detailed accounts of my daughter's exploits that I plan to keep for posterity.

6. Nutritionist   Poor performance appraisal here. People brandish Annabel Karmel books at me all the time, and I do my best, but follow her recipes in vain. Actually, I spend ages agonising over my daughter's food intake, still currently limited to apple puree, porridge and bread sticks, because I know it can't be that healthy. Her dad persuaded her tonight to add banana, raspberries and raisins to the list, which she did grudgingly. Anything I cook is a big no-no. Last week I had my head in my hands at suppertime, crying, I felt such a failure for cooking up this food she instantly rejects. She throws it at me, or on the floor.

7. Speech therapist   Daughter: "Haahlaahla" Me: "That's brilliant! Let's say it again." Daughter: "Laaaaaaa" Abrupt stop. Me: "Look, the little monkey in the book is saying 'Hug'. Isn't that clever? Let's try and say 'Huuuuuuuug'." I could go on.

8. Stylist   It's not as easy as it looks to achieve that casually thrown together boho-chic look for the under-twos. Especially when the under-two in question is determined to shed socks, shoes and cardi wherever she can, before regurgitating Annabel's rejected gloop onto her top.

9. Entertainments Officer   Playgroup, nursery, "playdates" - urgh, terrible expression, park. It all takes organisation, you know, even if the babies and toddlers mostly ignore one another at these various social events, except to "borrow" each other's toys.

10. Nurse   Bathing gunky eyes in salt water, kissing scratches better, clearing up sick, administering Calpol. Oh, I forgot, nurses are like stay-at-home mothers, another largely disempowered social group, being (mainly) female carers on a low wage.

Posted 20 May 2007 20:11 | Number of comments: 8 | Comments

Daughter Food Husband Language Nursery Play Playgroup Safety Work