Mother does not always know best!

I was a rather novice mother.  Being the youngest of my family I had zero experience of looking after youngsters.  So when I gave birth to my first son I remember the sheer fear that he was suddenly my responsibility.  I distinctly remember feeding him in the hospital bed and then ringing the nurse to return him to his crib.  When she asked why I did not do it myself I answered that I had never walked and carried a small baby and was afraid I may drop him.  I was serious! 

Being allowed to leave the hospital with this small vulnerable creature was terrifying and seemed completely wrong.  How would he survive with me!  It was a cold day and we had to put him in a one-piece coat for the first time.  A lovely elaborate outfit with zips that undid at the top and bottom if you needed to change him.  I have to say despite my fears our son was an ideal baby.  He slept and when not sleeping fed, in fact he was everything that reassured a rather nervous mother like me.  He smiled at everyone and held out his hands to even passing strangers to be picked up.  He just seemed really normal and exceptionally friendly.

That day for the first time he was crying.  It threw me but I changed his nappy to see if that helped.  It didn’t.  I tried to feed him and that didn’t help either.  By now I was running out of ideas, this had never happened before and his cry was louder and more pained.  I carried him, tried to put him to sleep by pushing him in the buggy outside.  Even that did not work and I was about to just let him cry, after all perhaps he was becoming spoiled?  If I just left him in the bedroom for a while alone, to cry himself out, he would learn that crying for attention was no way to behave!

Then, I noticed that the zip at his neck was embedded in his flesh.  While pulling up the zip I had caught a piece of his flesh in it.  The poor thing, how long had he suffered?  Once I released him he quickly returned to his usual happy and friendly nature and didn’t seem to bare any grudges for my blatant incompetence.  That night when he slept I cried beside his cot, furious at my carelessness and devastated at causing him pain.  

What is it about comfort's growing appeal?

New shoes at primary school

The teacher taught

But there was really no point

Because I had new shoes

Didn’t hear a word

Just wanted to admire

Those shiny new things

On the end of my feet

Every now and then

I’d raise my foot

And admire them anew

What colour, what shape!

I remember the glow

Of new shoes at school

They made the boredom go away

Thank goodness for growing feet

Then, in secondary school things went wrong

My feet began growing at an alarming rate

I started lying about their size

which seemed to be chasing my age

Instead of gloating at new shoes

I tried to hide them under my desk

Like I hid my spots with concealer

And my breasts with my school bag

When I was pregnant the doctor, unthinking

said thank goodness you’ve big feet

Your pelvic capacity is linked to your shoe size

Medical training should include a compulsory component on tact

For years either bumps or toddlers

Made me not notice my feet

They got me around

And wasn’t that enough

Then last week, I bought new shoes

I’ve been looking at them all day

Ugly nun’s shoes, that eat up the miles

what is it about comfort's growing appeal?

It’s been said that of all the things in your life

Make your shoes and your bed

the best you can buy

Because when not in one

Sure you are bound to be in the other