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Tag: visit

  • My Breasts Have Never Been So Angry

    My breasts have never been so angry!! 😳🤬

    Attempted to visit my wonderful friend and fellow XR activist Mark Ovland in prison this morning. I had carefully read the HMP Thameside website, made sure I had the right paperwork, dressed accordingly, wearing no sharp jewellery etc… Excited to share all your beautiful messages with him!

    I got there on time.. (yes, remarkable, I know…) And then Sally and I were refused entry at the security checkpoint where a female guard did the usual airport-style feel-you-up, because she noticed WE WEREN’T WEARING BRAS.

    🤷🏽‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🙆‍♀️🙈

    My Breasts Have Never Been So Angry
    My Breasts Have Never Been So Angry

    Yes. What. Wait? WTF?

    I did not forsee that my morning, after getting a 4.30am coach to London, would involve attempting to have a logical argument about the literal interpretation of female ‘underwear’ with the prison manager. I hardly ever wear a bra. To me, a vest top and pants is my underwear, and that’s my business anyway! 👙

    A man in the queue in front of us said “I’ve got bigger tits than you and I’m not wearing a bra!”

    My Breasts Have Never Been So Angry
    My Breasts Have Never Been So Angry

    We understand the intention of the rules, but Sally and I couldn’t have been dressed less provocatively. We’re angry and sad we couldn’t see Mark today. But we know he would have just giggled away with Cathy (who was also visiting) about us being free the nipple hippies. 💕✌️

    Sending our deepest love and strength to you through the cosmic ether Mark 💕🙏 Courageously and harmoniously sacrificing his freedom to raise awareness about the Climate Emergency. This was his one visit this month. Our hero! 💕💪🏼🙏💜

    #extinctionrebellion #xrbristol #hmpthameside #prisonrules #prisonvisit #activistinprison #freethenipple #rebelforlife #nipples #unprovocative #breasts Extinction Rebellion Bristol Extinction Rebellion #nobra #smugglingpeanuts #menhavenipplestoo #tits

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/anneka.sutcliffe

     

  • To The Girl Who Moved Away From Her Family

    To the girl who moved away from her family…

    Some days you feel independent and loved and other days you feel forgotten and confused!

    Nobody said it would be emotionally and physically hard on you, but nobody said it was easy!

    These times help us grow into strong woman, but the process can come in waves!

    .

    The phone calls, texts, Facebook posts, and FaceTiming can only do so much on the days you need advice, you need a hug, or you just need someone to vent to. You feel like you start to forget their voices, and they’re living happily without you

    .

    All the birthdays, and holidays you miss, and their fun family photos to follow that you aren’t in, and some days you wish you could drop everything and go back. You wish you could just fly home, you wish you could hug your dad, mom, sister, all family. You wish your dad would lecture you one more time, you and your mom could go get coffee and talk, your sister would have a sleepover with you and you were just present..

    .

    But the hard thing about all of this, is there is no going back. You are here to grow, you are here to provide for your family now, you are here to remember all the family moments and cherish them as much as you can, and never take any moment for granted when you see them next.

    .

    Some days I’m in my bathroom breaking down, and some days I miss my families calls cause I’m so busy enjoying life. It comes in waves but when it hits just remember:

    they didn’t leave you, they’ll always be there &

    It’s okay to miss home, it misses you

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/aylynmhenry

     

  • How Can You Not See Your Children

    32 weeks no contact.

    32 weeks of missed milestones.

    32 weeks missed of growth in all kinds of ways.

    32 weeks of stress.

    32 weeks of tears.

    Missed birthdays, Christmas, hospital appointments, hospital stays, major infections, operations, school placements, fights with senco and myself.

    32 weeks.

    How can you go 32 weeks without even a second thought to two little boys who once loved you more than life itself. I forgive you for everything you did to me. I forgive you all the pain and the scars; the bad memories, the doubts, the fear, the damage.

    I forgive you. I hope the life she is providing for you is the one you needed. Because I don’t possess the ability to envy you. Even though I spend every single waking moment crying out for bedtime for some peace. I couldn’t go 32 weeks without seeing my boys. MY boys. The boys WE created. But you chose to leave behind because your hatred towards me overpowered your love for them.

    Meanwhile I’m doing my best to raise two littles into men to be proud of. I keep them safe. I may not have a £700 a week income like yourself. You may have your fancy car and your holidays, and we may only have primark’s finest for the time being and trips to Blackpool.

    But our trips to Blackpool are full of memories. Wonderful beautiful memories with people who have taken on a role without even realising. People who care more in these 32 weeks than you have ever done. Who hold so much love for those boys my heart could burst at times.

    They’re typical arsehole kids. They cause trouble wherever they go. But where as you saw them as a burden, these people see them as a world full of possibilities. They see the potential in Jace’s destructive side, they see the intelligence in Brodie’s attitude and the passion in them both because at only 4 and 2 they stand up for what they believe in.

    And as much as I always wanted that perfect family. A mummy a daddy; their babies and even a dog! I’d take my family and my team as it is right here right now any day.

    They have the BEST Male role models. They have somebody who will drop everything to see them when they ask. Rather than somebody (you) who chooses to drop hours because it’s and I quote ‘not normal to see them other than 10 hours a weekend).

    I really hope you found your peace mark. I do. At one point I loved you more than I loved myself. And regardless of the pain I’ll always hold hope that one day you’ll live a happy life.

    Because it must be so painful, to lead a life full of such regret, pain and shame.

    Credit Kayleigh Jace Jade

  • Here’s What you Need To Know If You Come To My House With Children

    I’m a parent. My husband’s a parent. Our kids are kids.

    If you come to our house with your children, I don’t want to hear you apologise for any of the following:

    1. Noise/screaming/shouting/crying. If your kids can out-noise my kids, I owe you wine – and a whole lot of respect.

    2. Messy toys. I might have a small breakdown after you leave because MESS but please, my boys have a degree in mess. And once you have one kid making mess, you might as well be sat in a primary school classroom during free-play time.

    3. Needing to breastfeed. I mean…literally, what? Feed that baby wherever, whenever. Make yourself at home. Kick your shoes off. Don’t go to the toilet to do it. Lay on our bed, on the sofa, in the spare room – just wherever that baby is chilled. And PUR-LEASE don’t excuse yourself because of my kids or husband. We’ve done two lots of breastfeeding as a family and boobs don’t offend us. If you want privacy then obvs, cool. Otherwise – go ahead, babe.

    4. Your kids saying they’re hungry or asking me for something to eat. Kids have no fear, filter or preconceived idea of what is acceptable to society (or what we think is polite). If I’m feeding my kids, I’ll be feeding your kids. If it’s in the cupboard, they can have it. If they want it and you say they’re allowed it, it’s theirs. If you pay attention, you’ll notice my kids will have asked for food once every 0.04 seconds the entire time you’ve been here.

    5. Your child not finishing food I’ve given them. My kids don’t even finish the food I’ve given them and I’m used to cooking seven course taster menus because my boys can’t decide what they want to eat. Just chuck the leftovers. Unless it’s chicken nuggets, then I’ll have them.

    6. Food mess. I won’t lie, this one stings me a little but only because I’ve got leftover food phobia. But please, no apologies for this one. I found a bogey on my wall today so your child’s broken biscuit on the floor is light work.

    7. Your kids being brats. ALL KIDS ARE BRATS AT ONE POINT OR ANOTHER. Not one single exception. I’m not judging you based on your child having a breakdown because I’ve already negotiated with my own two tiny terrorists eighteen times before you’ve arrived and I actually find a lot of comfort knowing that you have to deal with this crap, too. Misery loves company, babe.

    8. Your kids needing a nap. We’ve got sofas, beds, cushions, beanbags, chairs and a whooooole lotta floor. Don’t up and leave because your kids want a nap (unless you’re sick of my kids and can’t wait to find an excuse to leave). Plonk your child down anywhere, throw a blanket on them and go back to your coffee. We’re napping experts in this house.

    9. Your kids not wanting to hug/kiss/talk to me. We are working on consent at every. darn. opportunity in this house. If your little babe doesn’t wanna show me affection, please don’t force it or apologise. I’ve been rejected by worse than a five year old and I’ve already kissed a few snotty faces today so keeping my bodily fluid transfer rate down will probably do me some good.

    10. Nappies. Changing. Poo. Wee accidents. Anything to do with natural bodily functions. After two kids I can barely control my own bladder so I’ll be damned if I’m judging a two year old on their ability to do so. We’re a family house. We don’t have a nappy bin, we have a bin, bin. We have nappies, wipes, spare pants and a lot of cleaning products. Whatever the disaster, we will cope.

    If you’re invited to our house, you’re invited with your children. And your children come with mess and spillages and accidents and unfiltered mouths…

    …just like ours do.❤️

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/ThePrimeMumister/

     

  • When Will I See The Baby?

    “When can I come see the baby?”

    A question new moms might hear over and over.

    At least at first.

    Sometimes before she has left the hospital.

    Before she has had a chance to sleep.

    Before she has even showered off the blood.

    “When can I come see the baby?”

    Her phone dings while she settles back in to her home with a brand new human – to her brand new normal.

    Her estrogen and progesterone levels are plummeting from the highest they’ve ever been to the lowest. She is shaky and hot and cold and sweaty and weak.

    Whether she chooses to breastfeed or not, her milk is coming in and she is sore and engorged.

    Whether she delivered vaginally or by c-section, her uterus will be contracting for days and weeks. Sometimes it’s as painful as labor.

    She’s bleeding and will continue to bleed for up to six weeks post-delivery.

    Her crotch is swollen and puffy and sore, or her incision is painful, or both.

    She is struggling to go to the bathroom – and she pees her pants (or pad) when she laughs, sneezes, and coughs.

    Her core muscles are weak, making lifting ANYthing hard.

    She’s starving. Endlessly starving.

    She has stretch marks and varicose veins, hair loss and acne, blurry vision and dry eyes. She sees a stranger in the mirror.

    She is totally and utterly exhausted. She hasn’t slept for more than an hour at a time in days or weeks.

    Any independence she had – to run errands, go to work, shower, eat, pee, sleep – has been suspended for now.

    So when you walk into her house, look at HER first.

    Give her space to heal, to bond, and to rest if she needs it.

    Be there if she needs it.

    Offer to help her.

    And then help her.

    Admire the baby, sure.

    But don’t forget to nurture the mother.

    Credit Nicolle Godor

  • Before I Had Kids, I Was A Social Butterfly

    Before I had kids, I was a social butterfly. I had all kinds friends & was invited to everything. I was available to hang, I would always drive over to someone’s house to hang out. It was a good time. I was available. I had no responsibilities. People used that to their advantage.

    Fast forward to being married with children. Life changes. I have priorities. I can’t just “come hangout”. The babies have nap routines, I have school pickups, the kids have sports. I have to find time for my husband. I need to clean, cook & do loads on top of loads of laundry. I’ve become socially awkward because I don’t get much adult interaction, I spend my days watching Paw Patrol & Bubble Puppies.

    Let’s not forget about those who work a lot with or without kids or a spouse. Trying to make it, working overtime. Single people, single parents or even married couples on one income. Shoot, in 2018, married couples on 2 incomes have to work to death because well, it’s expensive to live, bosses work you to death & well, taxes (imagine if we actually got to take home our gross pay, not the after tax net 😒)

    I’m not available anymore. I’m not the fun, free person you knew… my fun style has shifted. I’m not of use anymore to some. Friendships start fading away & disappearing. You hear “oh you never come out and have fun”, “I never see you anymore”. Yes, you are right. You don’t. Because I stopped coming to you, but did you know it would both ways? You can actually come to me? Maybe, come to my house and visit me. Come see the kids, come to a game.

    Hanging out and being friends doesn’t mean you can only be kid free to hang. It doesn’t mean drinking & partying is the only way to have fun. (Yes, sometimes a kid free night is good) Finding friends who understand your priorities is the best thing. Friends who understand that life happens and you may not talk or see each other for weeks or months but when you do, you pick right up where you left off.

    Your circle WILL change. Your circle WILL become smaller and that’s ok. Remember, it’s the quality of your friendships, not the quantity of friends!

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