Sunday, 25 September 2016

Where's the justice for the children?

It's 11.15pm on a Saturday night, I'm tired after a long day with my Daughter who has suspected chicken pox, and I know that inevitably she will be up before 6am but I can't sleep. For the first time ever I'm typing from my bed and not my 60 year old Formica desk in the shitty lean-to. I'm doing this because I have to write this blog post. It's something I feel so passionately about it literally eats me up inside. I normally keep my blog posts light-hearted. I like to swear. I like to attempt to be raise-a-small-smile funny. But I'm not sure this will be so light-hearted because this blog post is about the UK criminal justice system. A system whereby you get threatened with prison for not paying your Council Tax, but you could commit serious assaults and not even see the inside of a prison cell.

I'm an extremely anxious parent. I avoid reading stories about children coming to any sort of harm as the paranoia that ensues drives me flippin mental. I will lose sleep if I happen to read something that really hits a nerve. But there were two occasions where I happened to read about two of the most heinous crimes that I believe have ever been committed. They both happened in the UK. They both involved children and in both cases, justice was not served. I stopped reading and watching the news for a good few months after reading both of these stories as I was so completely fucking disgusted and enraged and heartbroken for the poor children that had to suffer. If you don't read on, I completely understand. I haven't gone into too much detail regarding the crimes as I am already a bag of nerves just writing this but I believe attention needs to be brought. These two stories are horrific but our justice system needs a MASSIVE change. We need sentences that fit the crimes, especially when vulnerable children are the victims.

Andrew Boeckman (who was incidentally allowed to be tried under a different name) is an ex-Eton public schoolboy who was convicted of making and distributing over 2000 indecent images of children. Some as young as two years old. Quite frankly it is so horrifying that I've had to skim over the parts that describe the content of the images. I've read and re-read enough to know that this vile cretin who would take photos of these innocent children being subjected to some of the worst acts you could ever think of is not currently in prison. Guess what? He's not even on the fucking sex offenders register! Why is this? Because his Father is a millionaire Lawyer who is credited for getting the Bankers out of shite. They live near the Houses of Parliament. This piece of shit has probably had one of the most privileged upbringings you can imagine. So privileged that he can be handed a ten month suspended prison sentence for committing unspeakable, detestable, abhorrent crimes against vulnerable children. WHERE IS THE JUSTICE?  This depraved monster was born with a silver spoon in his gob which means that even our weak justice system does not apply to him. Let's not forget those other twisted bastards who participated in the watching and circulation. I don't believe they have been convicted either. Andrew Boeckman did get a £1200 fine though, which to him is pocket change. I'm sure that £1200 will go far in getting back the innocence of these children that has been so cruelly taken away in the most atrocious of ways.

Kevin Park is a "man" who savagely murdered his girlfriend's 2 year old Daughter in April 2014. The officer in charge commented that it was the worst thing he had ever seen. Once again, the details are too horrific to go into but the defenceless little girl, who was not even a metre tall, had over 65 separate injuries to her tiny body. A fractured skull, tears to her liver, the list goes on. The piece of scum was convicted. He got a 'life sentence'. Which as anyone who lives in the UK knows, most of the time isn't actually a life sentence. He will be up for parole in 22 years. When he's 49. The family said they are"pleased justice has been served." Justice hasn't been served. In 22 years, he could be free to roam the streets again. Free to pop down the shop for a pint of milk. Free to possibly have more children. That innocent little girl who trusted him to look after her will still be dead. She never made it to her first day of school. Never got to make her friends for life. Watch her favourite cartoon again. Eat her favourite food again. Go to the park again. Be in a nativity play. Go to her prom. Get married. Her life was so cruelly ripped away and the disgrace of a human being that did that is currently languishing in a prison that probably has better conditions than some of our elderly are currently living in. He had 38 previous convictions, a fair few for domestic assualt. Why the FUCK wasn't he already in prison before this? Why was it not mandatory for him to have to report to some sort of authority that he was in a new relationship with someone that had a child? In what planet does anyone think that this monster should be allowed to ever walk our streets again? Why doesn't life mean life?! I am aware people can reform but when you have committed such an awful act on a defenceless child, you should pay for the rest of your life! The monster was emotionless as he was convicted. He was emotionless when he told her Mother she'd fallen off a bed and hurt her head after he'd brutally attacked her in all manner of vile ways. He will not reform, he shouldn't even be given the chance to reform. 

Again I ask why doesn't life mean LIFE?

Why should your sentence be a reflection of where you are in the class system rather than the crime you have committed?

My biggest fear is not only my Daughter coming to harm but that if she did, I would be left with my heart ripped out of my body asking "Where is the justice?"

The Kitschy Mumma




Diary of an imperfect mum
Mummuddlingthrough

Thursday, 22 September 2016

For the love of CBeebies..

Ahhhh CBeebies. Nothing drives you quite to the depths of despair like CBeebies does. One fateful day your child's whinging and you think to yourself "I'll just pop CBeebies on for half an hour and see if that will shut them up then we'll go straight back to making snow angels and baking cookies and shit. I heard it's educational anyway." HA! Little do you know that it has begun. You are trapped in a world of show tunes and cheesy grins and terrible acting. Pretty soon it will become white noise to you as it blares away on the TV all day. "The time has come, to say goodnight,to say sleep tight til the morning light" will become your favourite song EVER. You will develop a poisonous hate for certain characters (Raymond, Me Too) and you will say at least once in your life "whoever made this shite must have been on crack."

If you haven't yet succumbed to this horror story I am telling you about, DON'T! Your child will learn to love Loose Women and Real Housewives of Orange County. If you, like me, are imprisoned in your own CBeebies nightmare then I'll bet you've had thoughts like mine and I'm not talking picking up the TV and throwing it into your neighbour's front garden. I'll be watching it and say things like "Josie Jump is blatantly isn't high on just life" and "Bet Cook and Lyne never get laid" (Yes yes I know it isn't real. I'm not crazy- not certified anyway) but read on anyway and I'll bet your footy pups that at some point, you have said at least one of these things......

Who the fuck came up with Raymond and Tina, the couple who have a shared love of Am Dram and dressing their Daughter like her 60 year old childminder? If I was Lisa I would emancipate myself from those arseholes. 


Who told Bobby that wearing bits of ribbon in her hair looked good? They look like something I bought them from Claire's Accessories back in 1999.

Fucking hell that girl that eats all the peas on Baby Jake, surely she's going to have some sort of nutrition deficiency! I know her parents have 10 kids but feeding your child a bowl of peas for dinner? Think of all the child benefit they must get, surely they can afford a bit of pie and gravy.

How has Postman Pat still got a job? He fucks up every episode! They even threw a surprise party for him one time "THANKS PAT FOR ALL YOUR HARD WORK IN LOSING OUR SPECIAL DELIVERIES EVERY DAY WHICH WE WOULD HAVE PAID EXTRA FOR YOU ARSEHOLE"

Who would name their child Jason Mason? There's so many lovely names for a boy, why would you choose one that rhymes with his last pissing name?!

Wow you could cut the sexual tension between Flop and Alma with a knife!

If I had to play marry, shag or push off a cliff with Mr Tumble, Mr Maker and Mr Bloom, Mr Tumble's arse would be off that cliff quicker than you can say "what's in the spotty bag?"

C'mon Joy, for one episode just lose your shit with Topsy and Tim! They could probably take a shit on the neighbour's doorstep and Joy would say something like "Now twins, I know you wanted to give Mr Brown a gift and I'm so pleased you used your imagination but that wasn't the right thing to do so let's make him some cupcakes to say sorry" (cue ridiculously smiley face)

I wouldn't mind Grandpa in my Pocket's house actually. I like the way the duck egg blue walls contrast with all of the wood.

Captain Perriwinkle looks an awful lot like that Pastor bloke in Eastender's that murdered 2 people and drowned a dog.

Why do the Tombliboos live in a cave made of pretzels? 

Awww Dr Ranj seems like such a lovely chap. I think I'd feel so comfortable with him I'd even let him perform a smear test on me without feeling embarrassed.

Just once I wish Ruff Ruff, Tweet and Dave would finish with 'Dave's currently experiencing insomnia so Ruff Ruff was the first to fall asleep today.'

No Squiglet, 'X' is not for the Fox and the end of his tail. X is for Xanax which coincidentally I need after a long day of this shite.

The most disturbing thought I've ever had is "I wouldn't mind going to the CBeebies prom next year actually" KILL ME NOW!



Much love,
The Kitschy Mumma




Diary of an imperfect mum




Mummuddlingthrough

Monday, 12 September 2016

Download, print, hang on your wall..

If you have read my blog you will know that I love crafting and making art prints for the wall. The idea of my prints in somebody's house, adding character and charm to a room fills me with a lorra lorra love which is why I'm mega bloody excited to say I have done my own take on the super-talented Piero Fornasetti's work and created this heart-shaped 'Fornasetti' print for you to download and print for free (we all like free stuff let's not lie.)

Piero Fornasetti was an Italian painter, sculptor and interior decorator. He is perhaps most famous for his different variations of the face of Lina Cavalieri also known as 'The Most Beautiful Woman in the World.' Fornasetti hung 300 plates in the toilet of his gallery on Via Montenapoleone in Milan, each depicting Lina's face in a variety of different poses. He is truly a fantastic artist, his pieces instantly catch your eye! So download, print and hang on your wall!

Much love,
The Kitschy Mumma

Get your free print here

Thursday, 8 September 2016

Obstetric cholestasis you b*****d

I make no secret of the fact that I never want any more children for various reasons (see earlier post Just the one please... ), one reason being my anxiety regarding my Daughter's health and well-being is tough-going. Another reason being that I had the most horrific pregnancy I could have imagined. I don't want to bore with the ins and outs of morning sickness and thyroid problems bla bla bla but I'm bloody going to. I suffered and so should you. 
  • My morning sickness was so bad that at one point my boss was scraping cupcakes out of the sink that I had vommed up in work as I couldn't keep ANYTHING down. 
  • I was a permanent shade of grey.
  • My thyroid decided to go into overdrive and make my body work at a constant 'light jogging' pace.
  • My boobs barely went up a bloody cup size! 
  • I couldn't eat cake or curry.
  • I developed a craving for washing powder. I would literally sit at the kitchen counter with a box of it inhaling all of it's soapy goodness (still would probably do that now in all fairness)
  • Did I mention that I couldn't eat cake or curry?
  • I developed the complicated condition obstetric cholestasis.
Obstetric cholestasis is basically a build up of bile acids in your bloodstream that cause a constant itch. That's the medical description of it. To anybody who has ever experienced it, it is HELL ON FUCKING EARTH. I am not saying this lightly, it is the worst thing I have ever experienced in my entire life.

It started when I got back from a Holiday to Greece at about 29 weeks. I had itchy palms and feet which gradually became more and more unbearable. So I went to the Doctors and they tested me thinking it was just heat stroke or mild pregnancy itching, "every woman experiences a bit of itching". Except it wasn't a bit of itching, it gradually progressed to all over my body every single minute of the day. The next day when the Doctor confirmed I had extremely high levels of whatever it is they look for in these tests and that I had obstetric cholestasis, I did what any sane person would do- I googled it. I read the facts and despite the itching, I wasn't feeling too dis-heartened. Until it got worse. The only way I can describe it is that it felt like I had lots of little ants crawling underneath my skin and no matter how much I itched until I bled, the sensation would not go. I was still working full-time running on about 45 minutes sleep per night. I would stay up scratching and googling for forums for sufferers to write in hoping there would be some sort of miracle solution that I hadn't thought of. Reading about other people suffering helped (in a weird way.) I would read their posts detailing their experiences and I would feel relieved that I wasn't alone. Then I would look at the date they posted and see it was 2 years ago and I would think "lucky cow has had her baby, she isn't itching anymore!" I would phone my Mum at all hours of the morning sobbing saying I wanted to jump out of the window (I lived in a block of flats at the time so God knows what mental torture I put her through.) I would be taken to hospital for observations and beg the Doctors for a sleeping tablet whilst scratching furiously at my skin with my earrings (my scabby bitten nails just weren't cutting it- no pun intended.) At one point I covered my entire body in menthol aqueous cream hoping it would give me enough relief to get some sleep but instead I lay on the bed shaking like I had hypothermia (think Kate Winslet lying on that door at the end of Titanic.)
I had already decided at that point I would never put my body through this again, I would never have another child. Obstetric cholestasis has a 60-90 % chance of returning in subsequent pregnancies and I was struggling to keep sane when I just had me to look after, let alone if I had a child to look after too (Obstetric cholestasis and Snakes and Ladders do not go hand in hand.) It also is extremely dangerous if left to go over 37 weeks so when I got my induction date, I was thrilled. It may sound selfish that I was over-joyed my baby would be given her eviction notice three weeks early but I was looking like something from The Walking Dead at this point. I took my maternity leave early and it was lucky that I did as I didn't make it to my induction date. Obstetric cholestatis can also cause premature labour and I ended up giving birth at a little over 32 weeks. The itching stopped and my concern now was keeping my Daughter safe and well while she resided in the NICU. 

You can never predict what will happen during pregnancy. Some have it smooth, most people suffer. It was worth the suffering for my Daughter but I don't think I've ever quite 'got over' the whole thing. Even writing about it gives my body a little tingle (like when someobody talks about nits and your head starts itching.) If you happen to be reading this and are suffering from OC, I can't offer you some miraculous solution that will stop the itching. The only light at the end of the tunnel is that it does stop eventually once you give birth. It's almost worth the pain of labour just to stop the bastard itching. I hate the term 'survivor' but if you can get through it without absolutely losing your shit and getting sectioned then you are a bloody survivor because it's horrific! If you are reading this and thinking "shut the fuck up woman! I'M going through this right now, you're not" well, I don't blame you. My mailbox is always open though if you need to chat or rant or scream blue bloody murder. I will reply, because I would have done anything at that time to have somebody to talk to that understood.

Much love,
The Kitschy Mumma 





Mummuddlingthrough
Diary of an imperfect mum

Monday, 5 September 2016

Please excuse the mess, my child and boyfriend live here

I hate mess. Fact. Being a Mum means that inevitably there is always some form of mess in the house whether it's toys, food or of the urine variety. There are shreddies strewn about the floor, various bits of toys dotted inadvertently everywhere, I dread to think of how much shit is under my sofa. I keep on top of it because I literally feel my sanity slipping when there's lego, bits of fake food and colouring pencils EVERYWHERE. I like everything organised, even if it's organised mess (think Monica's closet in 'Friends'.) Nothing makes me cringe more than when you lose something down the side of the sofa and you stick your hand down there only to feel 'bits' (literally nearly vommed writing that.) I couldn't live without a packet of disinfectant wipes and brightly coloured modelling compound is my mortal enemy. 


Of course it goes without saying that I let my daughter play and make mess and explore (just not with play-doh if I can help it) and even when it pains me to watch her tidy up and put things in the wrong place, I still cheer and woop over-enthusiatically when she gets me to close my eyes and open them again when she's finished, her face beaming with pride! 

My Daughter makes mess and I have to be fine with that. My boyfriend on the other hand, not so much. Legend has it that when he lived on his own for the first time his Mum had to take all of his crockery and cutlery off him bar one of each as he wouldn't wash up for weeks on end. There could be an elephant turd in the front room and he would still plonk his arse down on the sofa none-the-wiser. Don't get me wrong, he has many a redeeming quality (good cook, makes a good cup of tea etc) he just doesn't SEE mess. I suspect this is the case for alot of men (and some women too- no sexism here.) I have friends that I could literally rant all day with. We would exasperate ourselves questioning WHY DON'T THEY SEE THE MESS AND CLEAN IT UP?! I could list the differences between my obsessive need to tidy and his obsessive need to NOT tidy but that would take me all day and there's lego on the floor, peppa pig dominos scattered everywhere and crusty shreddies dried into the table not to mention a bathroom that needs cleaning. 

So what do you do? Well, you accept them for who they are because quite frankly they probably think that being overly clean and tidy is just as psychotic. I have though, had the pleasure of putting together an exclusive little collection of pictures entitled 'If my boyfriend's mess could talk'. If you can relate to this, I feel for you. If you've never had the pleasure of living with a messy bloke and you are considering it, I advise you to tell him studies have proven that men who take the bins out get laid considerably more than those who don't. 



Sadly since the taking of these photographs, the toothpaste pot has been smashed (not by me) 

 The Kitschy Mumma



My Random Musings
                                        













My Random Musings