Is It The Salt's Fault?

Poor salt. It seems to be copping a bit of a beating from the media lately.


Now, I'll preface this by saying I'm not a big salt eater. I don't add salt to my food (except hot chips!) and I've only just started putting a tiny bit in my cooking. And I'm certainly not a nutritionist or a medical professional.


A few weeks ago, sitting on the couch on a Sunday evening, we were flicking TV channels and found ourselves watching Seven's current affairs show, Sunday Night. We watched this particular story because of the hilarity of the headline: 'Salt Assault' (I love headlines like this; I can just imagine an entire meeting being held to think of these cheesy titles. 'Attack of the Killer Salt'? Nah. 'Man of Salt'? Maybe. "Ooh, pick me, pick me, I know - 'Salt Assault'!" Perfect!). Anyway...


The story (you can see a transcript of it here if you're really keen) was about this man who "over the years... was steadily poisoning himself with a diet of fast and processed food". He had been rushed to hospital with kidney, heart, lung and liver problems, as well as high blood pressure and other not-so-great things. 


But then they go on to blame the whole thing on salt. Now, don't get me wrong, I can see what they were saying: the foods we eat contain too much salt and it's not good for us in high quantities, etc. etc. And I could deal with a story stating that. HOWEVER, they really lost me when they put this caption under the guy's name:


"SALT SURVIVOR"


Really. Don't you think that's slightly dramatic?


I was reminded about that story when I saw an article in the Herald Sun (you can view that here) stating that a certain Hungry Jacks burger contains more than the daily recommended salt intake. And yet the article only gives one small sentence about the amount of fat in said burger.


If the media is actually serious about highlighting the need for foods to be healthier, I say less of the dramatics and more facts please.

Food, Glorious Food

I love food.

Despite growing up thinking I was fat (I wasn't), I always knew I'd never be able to diet. I just have too much love for my food.

Unfortunately my favourites are the things that aren't exactly in the 'eat most' area of the food pyramid. For example:

I could eat a packet of pasta a day. Seriously. Just plain with some parmesan cheese sprinkled on top. Yum.

I love chocolate. If I have a block of it in the house I will eat it all. In one sitting. Again: yum.

I enjoy most sweet things. When I'm in a restaurant I look at the dessert menu first and decide what I want before ordering anything else. If the desserts are worthwhile (they usually are, except in Chinese restaurants) then I make sure I save some space. Oh, and when I was a teenager, hanging out at a lot of all-you-can-eat places where my friends worked, I'd eat dessert first. Double yum.

I also have a recent love for crumbed lamb cutlets, schnitzel, calamari... in fact, I think EVERYTHING should be crumbed.

There is only one thing that I really, really object to, which most people think is a bit weird.

Bread. I used to eat sandwiches, like any kid, but then one day I threw up whilst eating one. And that was it. No more sandwiches since then - about 20 years ago. There are a few exceptions to this - I'll eat toast or toasted sandwiches, BUT I have to be in the right frame of mind and they must must MUST be cooked all over. No soft bits. I'll also eat bread rolls... if they're fresh that day and not too 'bready'. It's a texture thing. Oh, and I feed my little girl sandwiches, but my husband must be around to pick up the soggy chewed up bits that might escape. It's just too gross. I'll clean up spew, poo (refer to previous post)... but soggy bread makes me dry-retch.

Ah well, we all have something weird about us!

And The Mother Of The Year Award Goes To...

As the year draws to an end, there are lots of things we start reflecting on. Being my first full year as a Mum, it's amusing to think back over the year and be amazed that, at the end of it, my daughter is still happy and healthy, despite some interesting times...

It's confession time. Here are my top three, um, finest mothering moments of 2009:

I took 13 month-old Abbey out for the day and we ended up at a playground. She was picking things up off the ground and putting them in her mouth - as little ones do - and at one point I found her chewing on a cigarette butt. Yes, that is completely disgusting. But I got it out of her mouth quickly and all was fine (she doesn't seem to have developed a nicotine addiction). But here's what I found myself saying when I told Steve about it that night: 'She was putting things in her mouth and so it took me a little while to realise she was chewing on this gross thing because I thought she just had another rock in her mouth.' Oh dear.

I put 14 month-old Abbey into childcare for the first time. They asked me if I wanted to do an orientation (i.e. stay there with her for the first session). My response: 'Nah, she'll be fine'. Then, when they told me they could do casual care, I said (maybe a little too quickly): 'Can I bring her tomorrow?' And lastly, I didn't even think about her when I left her there. Admittedly, I was madly trying to get some work done while I had some peace and quiet, but surely I should have felt guilty? Even just a little concerned? Nope. Oops.

10 month-old Abbey was playing happily in her room. I could hear the sounds of her chatting to herself and toys being played with, so I didn't go in to check on her. Mistake. She toddled out and came over to me and, looking at her, I took in the scene in front of me: daughter smiling, something on her face, something on her hands, OH NO her nappy is off. Yep. I flung her straight into the bath where she started to laugh and play (with me saying sternly, "Do not laugh. This is not a fun bath"). Once she was clean, dried and dressed, I put her in her cot (to keep her contained) and surveyed the rest of the house. Poo on the floor in her room and in the lounge room - thank god for floorboards. Oh damn, new rug in the lounge room - and poo also on toys. Abbey screamed in her cot the whole time I cleaned (me sternly again: "Don't you cry. I should be the one crying; I have to clean this mess"). But I was kind of proud of myself in a weird way - I cleaned it all and didn't even throw up. Yay me.

Here's to 2010. Cheers.

Only 1 Month Until Santa Comes!

Are you ready for Christmas?

I like to think I am. Half my shopping is done, thanks to the wonders of online shopping, and I even did something I've been putting off for years: buying new Christmas decorations. We only had a few that I bought for our first Christmas in our house (8 years ago!), but this year I felt I should make more of an effort. Abbey has been so enthralled by the decorations at the shops (unfortunately she's so busy looking up at them that she'll walk into anyone and anything without even noticing!) and she'll love having them at home too.

I've always loved Christmas, but in some past years I've just been too busy to think about it much before a week ahead. Last year, Abbey was only 3 months old at Christmas time and I just couldn't be bothered with all the decorations and everything. We bought a tree about a week before Christmas - only because Steve insisted and I agreed based on the fact that at least we'd have a photo of the three of us with a tree in the background. It ended up being decorated so badly that I was too ashamed to have a photo taken anywhere near it.

This year, I really want to make more of an effort. For Abbey, but also to get Steve and I back to enjoying the lead-up to Christmas. Warm summer nights, the house glowing with colourful lights, wrapping presents with cheerful carols playing in the background, and we might even host a get-together for our friends just before Christmas. Maybe.

I'm excited now!

Although I do have one dilemma: how well do a Christmas tree and a very active toddler go together?!

What Does It Mean For Men?

Feminism is (still) a huge debate and discussion point (as shown by the response yesterday on the Mia Freedman's blog, Mamamia - you can view her article here). We all know the achievements of early feminist movements and, as a result, the choices available for women, and subsequent expectations of them, have vastly changed in the course of a few generations.

So we have all taken on different responsibilities and the 'traditional' roles are being redefined. But what does this mean for a man?

He too has choices. He can stay at home with the kids. He may ask for flexible work arrangements to spend more time with his family. The SNAG and the metrosexual made an appearance. It's OK for him to show his emotions and it's fine to talk about how he feels.

But with choice comes responsibility.

He should be a supportive partner and understand the way a woman's mind works and how she is feeling. But not too much so, because he needs to be a 'real man'. He needs to spend more time at home to be actively involved in his childrens' day-to-day lives, even if he is the sole earner. He must have a career that brings in a decent amount of money to provide for his family. And he should protect his family and be the strong one. Oh, but not too strong because it's OK for him to need support and nurturing.

Confused?

Wait, there's more.

He should open the door and give up his seat for a woman. Oh, hang on, maybe not, because she might be offended. He should pay for dinner when he goes on a date, unless of course she is happy to pay for half, or all, of the bill.

Still confused? That's because the mixed messages are endless.

My views? I'm all for equality, feminism and choice. Absolutely. But I think we need to remember the men when we discuss it all. That is, to take into account the needs of society as a whole: male and female. Because it's like a domino effect; where one role shifts so does the other.

We also need to realise that it's not only fine, but normal and wonderful, for men and women to be different.

And we can be 'traditional' if we want to, as long as we respect each other. A man being a gentleman and a woman loving being treated specially. A man opening a door for a woman without thinking of her as helpless or weak. And a woman cooking the man in her life a beautiful meal after he's had a tough day, without being seen as a subversive wife. A man choosing to spend time with his family without being 'under the thumb'.

In short, men need to be able to make their choices too.

In Memory Of Grandad

Today would have been my Grandad's 90th birthday. He passed away 3 weeks ago. I wanted to write something today to remember him.

Grandad was a wonderful man: a husband, father of 5, grandfather of 12 and great-grandfather to 13 littlies. I was so fortunate to grow up knowing all four of my grandparents and, although living in a different state to Nanna and Grandad meant we didn't see them a lot, they spoiled us rotten when we did!

Grandad was also a soldier in WWII, a prisoner of war on the Burma railway. He didn't speak of this much but the things he did say were incredible. A man of few words, he would just make a short comment on something in a matter-of-fact way.

But the thing my whole family will remember most about Grandad is his sense of humour. Think of the corniest jokes you've ever heard and then double the corn-factor. But we all laughed; it was all in the dry delivery, a quiet joke coming from the armchair in the corner of the room, accompanied by a slight twitching of the lips.

We went to Hobart earlier in the year to visit Nanna and Grandad. Below is a picture of him with the next three generations - Mum, me and Abbey. I'm so glad that we were able to take Abbey down so that Grandad could meet her.

Lest we forget.

The Birth Of My Daughter

A cousin of mine had her first baby on Friday. Congratulations Jo!

It brings back a lot of memories about the day my little girl was born (cue nostalgic music)...

I'll start with the worst bits.

She was 9lb 14oz (4.5kg). Yes, ouch. We were pretty shocked at that. Our first hint that we had a big baby was when Steve said to me, "We've got a little girl" and the doctor chuckled and said, "She's not so little!" Oh dear. My first thought: 'Thank god I had that epidural'.

I was in labour for 24 hours. I ended up at the hospital far earlier than I had ever anticipated, because I was convinced that the pain couldn't get any worse and so I must be about to give birth ANY MINUTE (this was about half an hour into it). I usually have a fairly high tolerance for pain, but I think I just panicked at the uncertainty of it. I can be, at times, a bit of a *cough* control freak.

Things went a little pear-shaped during the labour. I won't go into all the gory details but, in short, they were a bit concerned that the baby was becoming distressed, so I was stuck on my back in a tiny hospital bed hooked up to a machine to monitor her heart rate. That was so painful that I started calling out two words: EPIDURAL. NOW.

This is when it gets funny. They gave me the epidural and apparently forgot to monitor it because when they came back to wake me up (yep, I slept through who knows how many contractions and when they woke me it turned out I was fully dilated!) they said, "Oops, it's up too high." Oops? Is that a word you ever want to hear in a hospital? So then I had to push and I could feel NOTHING. I couldn't move my legs, I couldn't feel whether I was pushing or not, and I couldn't feel the baby coming out (although I think that turned out to be a good thing).

Now for the happy bits.

As both the cliche and the truth go, it was all forgotten when my baby was put in my arms. She was the most amazing, adorable thing I had ever seen (this is a huge understatement, but there really are no words to describe how I felt at that moment). Our little Abbey.

We stayed our two nights in hospital and found the whole thing a breeze (of course, things changed when we got home and for the next few months, but that's a story for another day). She fed straight away, which was lucky because I really DID NOT want to breastfeed, so if she hadn't taken to it easily I probably would have just given up. And all the nurses were sure I was lying when I said she was my first child, because I looked like I knew what I was doing.

And I was SO tired. Not because Abbey wasn't sleeping - she was always pretty good like that - but because even while she was sleeping, I couldn't stop staring at her. I felt like I had to see every breath she took, every little movement and facial expression, to get to know her and to take it all in. I caught little glimpses of who she was: her little lips pursed together so determinedly, her knack for learning things quickly and her awareness of and curiosity for her new world.

The adventure of our new lives had just begun.

Things That Make Me Go :)

These are the things that have made me smile this week:

• The world of blogging! Starting my own blog has been a huge thing for me and something that I'm already loving. On top of that, I've been reading some other blogs and discovered several like-minded people with great blogs that I can only aspire to.
• I've been shopping a couple of times this week and that (almost) always brings a smile to my face. And my Christmas shopping is half done!
• We had a big family dinner during the week with my parents, brothers, sister, sister-in-law, brother-in-law, nephews and nieces. The highlight was the excitement from my two 5 year-old nephews helping me make fresh pasta. I never knew cooking could be that exciting! And they took some to kinder for show-and-tell the next day!
• A few (read - two bottles of) champagne with a friend last weekend and lots of laughs.

I hope everyone else has had lots of smiles this past week. Here's to lots more happy moments in the week ahead!

It's All About Me...

I thought an introduction would be a good place to start. After all, it's good manners to introduce yourself when you meet someone!

Here are the basics:

I'm 29, married to Steve, we have a 14-month-old daughter Abbey, and live in the Dandenong Ranges.

I am the third of four children and, having spent my first ten years as the youngest, am a little confused as to whether I am a spoilt youngest child or a misplaced midling.

I am also an aunty (two nephews and four nieces), which I love love love!

What else?

I'm very organised and can be a bit of a neat-freak (more on a part-time basis these days though, as it's stressful trying to be too neat with a toddler in the house!).

I like to exercise a bit but mostly just to clear my head and work off all the yummy foods I like to eat, i.e. anything with carbs (except bread, but that's a whole other story) or that is sweet or chocolatey.

I used to be pretty focused on my career but now have other priorities and am fortunate enough to have landed some consulting work from home. I did lots of studying in my past lives and have I mentioned that I'm a bit of a nerd?

They're the basics!

About Me

I am Mum to a beautiful little girl and wife to the man of my dreams.

My life is a constant blend of fun, chaos, confusion, bliss, stress and challenges. This blog, Writing Out Loud, is a collection of honest insights into that concoction of events and emotions: motherhood, marriage, career, travel and, most of all, the enjoyment of writing.

Please feel free to leave me a comment to let me know you have dropped by, and if you have a blog leave me a link so I can come and share in a part of your life as well.

Thanks for visiting me!

Megan Blandford

Oh, and if you want to contact me - email here!

My First Post!

I'm now a blogger!

I've decided to do this as an excuse to do something I love - write. That may come as a surprise to even some of my closest friends, as I haven't written very much for a long time, and I haven't even told people that I love to write.

How has this come about?

My year (ish) off from work with my little girl gave me time to reflect on what I want from life and how to be the best mother I can. It also gave me a break from being really busy all the time and rushing from one thing to another, and made me actually search for things to do. And a lot of what I came up with were things to use my brain and get me thinking (full-time parenting can be a little mind-numbing).

And so I started writing. Fictional stories, poems, articles on issues that I'm passionate about... ANYTHING! My new job, working from home as a Human Resources Consultant, has involved writing policies, and I even love that. Weird, I know. Nerdy, yep. And that's why I've kept it a secret.

But now, I'm living (and writing) out LOUD.

What you will see on this blog is me. My thoughts, experiences, opinions. And hopefully you'll enjoy reading and share your thoughts too, by writing some comments.