Back To School On Sunday?

School - so near and yet so far

There were news reports early in the week that Kindergarten to 3rd Grade, and 11th and 12th Grades, would return to school on Sunday, 3rd May.

Facebook was full of it of course. I'd say there was about a 50-50 split of parents who were for it and those who said it was too soon. And all the parents who were for it weren't 100% convinced either. As usual, those with children in that age bracket who needed to go back to work, didn't have a choice. Those with money (either savings or with desk jobs that can be done from home) to see them through another month were able to make their own decisions. Not to mention the gap in mental health between those with outside space and those without. Bottom line - we are not all in the same boat.

On Wednesday elementary schools were told to prepare for Sunday. Kindergartens are deleted from the equation - enforcing social distancing on 3 - 7s isn't practical. The final decision was made today, Friday, and we're still on. I don't believe this is the final decision but I've been wrong before.

Apparently (I didn't hear it myself but someone posted it on Facebook so believe it or not) they felt compelled to ease restrictions because they think that if they don't, there will be serious unrest and actions against the government. It's the economy stupid.

Other news reports say social distancing is falling apart in many places and the government has lost control over it. Lifting restriction on babysitters, how many families can share childcare, opening high street shops, and easing permitted travel distance, have all helped to erode any sense of logic. Although I am sticking to the rules, I can understand others who won't not go to the park with their kids when people can go to IKEA. (News flash - a corona positive man from Jerusalem spent an hour in IKEA in Rishon on Monday. So there you go.)

A poll found that the biggest hurdle to returning to work is the lack of childcare. The classes are being split into halves (no more than 15 children in a class) so there's only room for half a school to return. They assume that 4th - 6th Graders can be left alone, or with siblings, while the parents go to work. My 6th Grader can but I didn't leave her for more than a couple of hours when she was 9.

In my school the following measures are in place. 1st Graders will enter the school via the top gate, the others by the bottom gate. No parents are allowed on the premises. The class teacher will team up with a subject teacher and teach half the class at a time. No other teachers will be with each class. (The class teachers for 4th - 6th Grades will continue with distance learning.) Only one child per table. Playtimes will be staggered and masks worn during the breaks only. There was some more about the toilets and hand washing.

Many parents are scared and not sending their children. Some children live in families with at risk members. Some teachers live with at risk family members or are at risk themselves. So it's not compulsory. Teachers can opt to take sick leave although there is a certain amount of pressure not to.

My take is that it's a national experiment, with the children as the subjects. If it were known to be safe then everyone would go back. The economy has trumped health with the safety net of restricted school so that the hospitals will be able to handle a modest spike in corona cases.

As an overweight, older mother of an only child, single parent, with no immediate family in the country, this does not reassure me. I'm glad my 11 year old is in 6th Grade (and I am on unpaid leave from school) so I don't have to decide whether to allow her (or me) to be part of the experiment. But if I did have to decide... we have a balcony, I have enough money for another month in lockdown, and we are two people in a not tiny living space. I won't judge.

R2BC - The Surprise Party

Top Bunk!
She's pretending to be asleep for this photo, I can see her smiling. 

The working week is over for me on Thursday afternoon (I go back to school on Sunday morning), apart from all the work I have to do at home, and the shopping, and the cooking, and the cleaning. But apart from all that.... Seriously though, if I don't have to get up at the crack of dawn and get us both out of the house before 7.30 am, I don't count it as working. Here are my reasons 2B cheerful for this past week. The linky has moved back to Becky's Lakes Single Mum for December and I'm on it as usual.

1
DD turned nine on Monday. She had a lovely birthday and actually, she ended up with three different celebrations.

I'm still getting my head around the fact that nine years have gone by since she was born. As I'm an older mother, I'd had over 20 years of total independence. I did what I wanted, when I wanted. All I had to do was make my arrangements for myself and lock my front door behind me. I didn't even have to leave a note for anyone. Now I've had nine years of not making a move without factoring DD into the equation - where will she be? Who will she be with? What will she do? What will she eat? Will she be happy? Will she be bored? Will she be too tired? Will she be warm enough?

I know all mothers live with multiple lives to consider, and some of them do it for decades if they have large families, but for me it was a new experience. It's complicated sometimes but I like it.

2
On Tuesday I had to be in school from 4 to 8pm for parent-teacher meetings. The day was a study in logistic planning from reorganising my college timetable to making arrangements for DD so that she could go to club, be taken to Sarit's house, stay overnight with Sarit, be taken to school in the morning with a classmate, and not have to schlep her clarinet everywhere with her after the clarinet lesson on Tuesday morning.

My first R2BC is that it all went like clockwork. Thank you team!

3
I knew that Sarit was going to have a cake and candles for DD as Tuesday was the day after her birthday. And I knew that she had a gift for her. So I'm sitting at school, bored stiff because only 15 parents came to see me in four hours! And it was not one family every 15 minutes. It was more like 10 families in the first hour and a half and another five families spread over the remaining two and a half hours. Anyhoo, I suddenly see Whatsapp messages coming through with photos of a proper birthday party happening at Sarit's place.

She had invited the rest of our 'created family' group (we are five mothers and five children but one family is away atm) for tea and birthday celebrations. I was really touched as it was a total surprise. DD was so happy. The only negative thing was that I couldn't be there.

4
This one is DD's. She got the top bunk for the night at Sarit's. Her first time on a top bunk. She was thrilled.

The Weather, The Wedding, And The Sleepover

Today it was 37 degrees C in Jerusalem. That's 98.6 in old money. The day before it was 36 and tomorrow they are forecasting a blessed relief of only 35 degrees. I hate the heat more than most and we don't have air conditioning in our apartment. So this is how I cope:

I leave home with DD at 8 am. She goes to her Summer School program and I go into my college (both are down the road). I sit in the cool A/Ced teachers' room or in the library, and do my work. Then I collect DD at 1 pm and we come home to basically do nothing until the weather breaks at about 6 pm. That's the thing about Jerusalem, it gets cooler in the evening, unlike in other places in Israel where you can be sweltering in high humidity all night. I guess then you do need to have air conditioning. I'm happy to rest during the day and get up at night.

It's now 11.15 and DD has just gone to sleep as, like me, she's a night owl. We both slept for over an hour in the afternoon so I'm now wide awake. I like this informal chatty style of blogging but I do need to catch up on the events of last week.

The Sunday before last I was invited to a wedding on Kibbutz Shluchot just south of Tiberius and the Sea of Gallilee. To cut a long story short, the groom's little sister had her Bat Mitzva on the Shabbat before the wedding and lots of people joined them for the whole weekend for the double celebration. Most of our mutual friends are close family or close friends with the groom's family so it was going to be hard to find someone driving up to the wedding on the Sunday from Jerusalem. I've also come to the conclusion that sometimes it's easier to just take public transport and be your own boss. I was actually looking forward to travelling on my own without having to entertain DD on the journey.

The bus traveled up the valley road that follows the Jordan River. We left Jerusalem on the east side and drove towards The Dead Sea. Then, with a view of The Dead Sea to our right which I was on the wrong side of the bus to get a photo of, we turned left towards Jericho. Passing the turnoff to the Alemby Bridge Crossing on our right, we continued north towards Bet She'an. The mountains rose out of the dessert landscape and were spectacular in the late afternoon sun. I took photos from the bus like a crazy tourist. I was mesmerized. You know I go for greenery rather than deserts, so I don't quite know what came over me.

Friends (a couple and another friend who also happens to be my brother-in-law who came for the celebrations) had spent the day at a guest house near the kibbutz and they met me from the bus so that I could go back and change at their place. We then went to the wedding together.

There were about a dozen of us who'd been teenage friends back in the UK and had been living in Israel for now 30 years or more. We get all nostalgic and it's as if no time at all has passed. Except that many of them are now passing round photos of their grandchildren on their smartphones. As a young mother myself, I indulge them and they indulge me talking about DD.

After the chupa (literally the wedding canopy) I phoned DD to see how she was getting on at her first sleepover that wasn't at my sister's with her cousins. She gave me a whole speech on the phone about how she doesn't miss me at all and she doesn't know what's happened to her because she's very happy to sleep there.... "and it's not just because I don't have a choice!" Hooray! We have entered a new era. What's more, my friend had her hairwashed and in bed by 9 pm. I must find out how she did that.

I came back south after the wedding in the car with friends and my b-i-l and the two of us stayed overnight with them in their house just outside Jerusalem, coming into Jerusalem for work with them in the morning. Apart from the fact that I had to then spend the day in school teaching, I felt like I'd had a mini holiday. Reconnected and relaxed.

Thanks Sarit for having DD to stay. Thank you Julie and Boaz for taking me and bringing me back and having me to stay overnight. Thanks Jonny and Sari for a wonderful wedding. Mazal Tov to Rebecca on your Bat Mitzva. And Mazal Tov to Ben and Tehilla on your marriage. I hope that in 30 years time you will be celebrating weddings with the same friends you danced with at yours - like we are.

I Wasn't Ready For This

I have said a number of times that age 5 was the most exciting year so far. Actually every year gets better than the last as I'm not one of those mothers who would like her baby to stay a baby for longer. Probably because I'm an older mother whose friends are all making weddings for their children and becoming grandparents, I am happy to embrace each new stage of intelligence and independence (hers and mine).

I love it when DD (occasionally) chooses what to wear and dresses herself. I swell with pride when she reads words in English that I didn't know she could read. I enjoy hearing her start to read in Hebrew. I'm bowled over by the connections she makes when doing number work. It's only numbers to 20 but when she says, "Of course 6 and 5 make 11 because we know 5 and 5 make 10 so if we add one more to one of the 5s to get 6, that makes one more than 10," I am amazed and in awe that she thinks like that.

I  get excited when DD has a play date and I know they will disappear into her bedroom and entertain themselves. Even better is when she goes to a friend's house. I'm fascinated by the fact that she has her own social life independent of me.

DD tells me (also occasionally as I don't get much information from school) something funny or good, or not fair, that happened at school and though it's 6 year old's gossip, it's getting more and more interesting. I can't wait till 10th Grade!

However, yesterday, two weeks before her 6th birthday, DD came home and showed me that she'd lost her first tooth. Reader I wasn't ready for this.

We bought her real jeans from Primark back in April. Put a child in jeans and they instantly look like a teenager (even if they are only 2 1/2). My little girl has been looking like a (small) teenager recently and I think it's cute. But she still has her milk teeth so she's still a very little girlie and I do love that.

Part of the shock was that we didn't even know the tooth was loose. It just came out with no warning. You should get some warning, right?

Then my 'big' girl got worried that the tooth fairy wouldn't know to come because she lost the tooth at school. (I was a bit upset too - I sort of wanted to see it and maybe keep it for a while.) I told her we'd write a letter and put it under her pillow. "Can't you just send her an email?" asked my child of the computer generation.

I could have made her write more but we were both tired after homework and everything else. DD wrote her name and drew a picture. "Can the tooth fairy read pictures?"
"Of course she can, she's magic."

This morning under the pillow was a new sticker book from the tooth fairy. "Oh, not a coin?" But she was thrilled and in awe about the sticker book (thanks to Grandma for sending it from London).

I wasn't ready for new teeth. It marks the beginning of the real end to that adorable baby face. I  know another adorable young girl face will take its place - one that comes with a reader, a backgammon player, a shopping pal, an independent little miss. But I wasn't quite ready for this.

It's Not My Fault I'm Childless

I've just read an interesting article in the Daily Mail Online called: I'ts not my fault that I missed the chance to become a mother.  (Click on the link to read the article.) I wanted to leave a comment after the article but there were already nearly 200 comments and what I have to say, well, I want to say it publicly and I want it read.

The author of the article, Megan Lloyd Davies, laments that it was bad luck that she didn't meet the right person with whom to have a family. She isn't prepared to go it alone (as I did) and she won't freeze her eggs (even though at 40 it's a bit late to start considering this option) because she doesn't want to go through fertility treatment alone. She describes how she went through a period of grief and mourning for the children she would never have, starting at age 38. She labels her situation emotional infertility rather than biological infertility and states that it is just as bad. Eventually, she made some big changes in her life, has come to terms with the way things are and is making a good life for herself as an independent, single woman.

As you can imagine, I have a number of things to say about this. The bottom line, however, is that it is your fault. I applaud Davies for working through her grief and coming out the other end with a positive outlook. However, she hasn't quite missed the chance to become a mother but rather is choosing to focus on other things. Her choice.

Ruth and Naomi

I too held out for the traditional love, marriage and a few children, in that order. When I turned 40 and realised that it may not happen I did something about it. I suddenly woke up to the fact that many things do not happen unless you happen them. I could say that my single state at the age of 40, despite some very nice boyfriends and relationships along the way, was bad luck. But it wasn't. It was a result of my choices.

Like Davies, I also chose to hold on to relationships that were going nowhere because I was enjoying myself and hoping things would change - even though I knew deep down that they rarely do. When I started IVF treatment it was because I had managed to give up on the whole fairy-tale package and focus on what was most important to me - becoming a mother. I also wasn't oblivious to the friends who started out with the fairy-tale and tragically things went wrong.

Like Davies, I also chose not to do it alone while I felt I was financially insecure. I lived in rented accommodation throughout my 20s and 30s and I'm a teacher (nuff said). I was marginally better off by the time I reached 40 but it was still my choice to delay. It was only the shock of being 40 and childless that made me go ahead regardless. Whilst I no longer enjoy the life I once had vis a vis travel and entertainment (unlimited heat in the winter, a take out meal once in a while...), this is also part of the choice I made and I don't regret it at all.

I know many women in their 40s who are single and childless. I know married couples who were not able to have children. I also know many women in their 40s and couples who did not accept being childless. Most of them started out with IUI and IVF and if they were unsuccessful, upped the ante to donor sperm and/or eggs. I know those who have used a surrogate and those who have adopted. All these people could have been emotionally infertile (or as I used to call it circumstantially infertile) but they chose not to be.

I've said before that some of my friends considered going it alone and decided, for whatever reason, not to. That is a totally legitimate decision as long as we're all clear that it is a decision.

For me, becoming a mother was the most important thing, as I said, and I thank God that I realised this before it was too late. It wasn't an easy journey and I lost a few good friends over it on the way. I went through all my savings in the process and I didn't speak to my mother for almost half a year. Without going into details, I chose to leave behind any negative baggage in whatever form it appeared, and forge ahead with single determination. I was lucky to have the support of many good close friends but essentially I was on my own.

To Megan Lloyd Davies, I want to say that the period of mourning you experienced at 38 is probably largely biological as many women (even mothers) go through an intense broodiness as they approach the end of their reproductive years. It's there for a reason. By giving reasons why you would not follow any of the options open to you, you have made your decision very clear. I don't think any less of you for not having children any more than I wouldn't look down on women who decide not to marry or any other life choice. I'm happy for you that you have a fulfilling life and that you have such a great relationship with your nieces, nephews and godchildren. But all our lives are a result of the choices we made. It is your fault, sorry.

Disclaimer: I certainly don't want to offend anyone who has tried every possible route to parenthood and is still childless. There are people like this and I am not belittling your pain and loss. There are unfortunately, people with severe obstacles to parenthood.

Credits: All the illustrations on this page are taken from Google Images under childlessness.

How Old Is Old?

A few weeks ago Natasha from The 1970s Diet and I had an exchange of tweets about when one is considered to be old. It started with her saying that her 63 year old mum doesn't think that 70 is old. My response to that was something along the lines of - if she doesn't feel herself to be old then she's not old. After a bit more of a discussion we agreed to each write our thoughts on what 'old' means and to post them simultaneously with links to each other.

Before I give my opinion I'll tell you three very short, true stories.

1. When I was 8 and my brother was 5, he brought home a friend from school to play. When the boy's mother collected him she said that she loves it when he gets to play with children his own age as he only has a half-sister at home who is 12 and more like an aunty to him than a sister. As I said, I was 8 and I remember thinking: WOW 12, that's so old!

2. A few months ago I walking in the street with a much younger mother from DD's nursery and a friend from years ago passed us. We said a quick, 'hellohowareyou' and continued walking. I was actually shocked by how old my friend looked. I said to the friend I was walking with, 'would you believe that woman was in the same school year as me?' She was also shocked.

3. At her retirement party, a teacher I used to work with told me, 'I don't feel old inside. Inside I feel the same way I felt when I was 30 ro 40. They don't tell you this but all my friends feel the same.'

So what could we conclude from these anecdotes?

From number 1, that age is relative. A 20 year old thinks a 50 year old is older than a 45 year old thinks about the same person. But a 70 year old would consider the 50 year old to be young.

From number 2, we all age at different rates and it has little to do with our number of years. The woman we met was probably tired (she has five children), she had not dressed to her best advantage, she was not wearing any make-up and is naturally pale, and who knows what other factors were acting that day to make her look years older than me.

And from number 3, which is my favourite story, that whatever your age and however you look, you still feel young on the inside (until you don't). Yes of course there is a time when (hopefully - because it's better than the alternative) you will become old. But who is to say when that time is? I know people who were old at 20 and I know spritely 80 year olds.

As I get nearer to 50 I'm aware that I don't dress in the same way a 20 year old dresses. I wouldn't want to as I'd now prefer to be sophisticated and elegant than fun and frivolous. (And in minus about 20kg I will be sophisticated and elegant :~D. ) I can no longer do the gymnastics I did as a 14 year old but I know a sports teacher in her 40s who can. My tastes in entertainment have changed to quieter venues with fewer people and deeper conversation but that in no way diminishes the fun I expect to have.

On the other hand, I am a 'young' mother with a 3yo in nursery school. The other parents I mix with are between 5 and 25 years younger than me. I don't feel it. They are all very friendly and we have fun in the park after school and at the nursery parties and picnics. We have been invited to lunch and play on weekends and if the other children's Grandma is there, she's sometimes nearer my age than the parents. No one cares. It's not even a matter for comment.

What do you think? Is there a definitive age that is 'old' or is becoming old an individual experience and not totally dependent on your number of years?

*All pictures from Google Images

Unavailable And Not Sorry

I am an older mother. This means that most of my friends have teenagers or even grown-up children. And I am shocked at how quickly some of them have forgotten what it was like to have a toddler. I had a rather upsetting exchange of words with a friend this week when she accused me of distancing myself, not bothering to turn up to anything, shutting DD off from my community (how can you expect us to embrace her if you don't let us anywhere near her?), and generally falling short of any semblence of friendship.

I started to think about the implications of these accusations. Firstly, on reading the above you would think that I am shutting my daughter up at home, away from society. This is not the case. Although we don't tend to socialize so much in the circles I used to frequent, DD and I have a lovely community who we see regularly. Secondly, if we don't go somewhere it is because it is not convenient for a 2yo - not because I can't be bothered.

For 20 years before I had DD, I understood the restrictions of family life with young children. I was totally laid back and accommodating. I waited until everyone's children were bathed, fed, in bed, whatever, until a planned evening could begin. I cut short outings to be back in time for school pick-ups. I sat around the table with sticky-fingered, attention-grabbing, screaming babies. Luckily there were often other children around as most of my friends had kids about the same ages. The children would run off and play together and the adults did get some adult time. And if we didn't, we didn't. My friends' lives were also their children's lives and I understood.

Mostly our social life centres around Shabbat (Friday evenings and Saturdays). Many people prefer to socialize on Friday night and then relax on Saturday. Families with small children tend to make a bigger thing of Saturday lunch, for obvious reasons. My friends from 'before' no longer have young children. For DD I have necessarily been socializing with younger families so that a.) she has other children to play with, and b.) the hours are condusive to the life of a 2yo.

I choose not to take DD out in the evenings as she gets over-tired and hysterical (see Singlemum And The Seder Night). If she falls asleep in the buggy on the way home I have to wake her up to walk up three flights of stairs. It's no fun for anybody, least of all one exhausted and uncomfortable little girl who just wants to be in her bed by 8pm. That, coupled with the fact that I don't have money for babysitters at the moment or a partner to leave DD at home with, means that I see the wonderful friends who are willing to come round to me of an evening, for coffee or a glass of wine and a pizza.

As a single woman on my own I was always available. I could come early to help set up and stay late for the clearing away. I could drop everything and be anywhere at a moment's notice - and I frequently did/was. But now it's my turn to put my family first. How dare my friend expect me to fit in with events arranged for the convenience of her teenagers. How dare she not allow me the right to make decisions on how I bring up my daughter. How dare she have forgotten that I never once told her how to mother her children. How dare she think she has any authority over me and my life.

End of rant. Thank you very much.

An Only Child

Sometimes I find myself choosing the name I would give to DD's little sister - because it would be another girl. That's the great thing about fantasies, you can control every detail. And if I'm honest, I have actually spent (read: wasted) a lot of time on this. Then I jolt myself back into the real world and fantasize about something that has more chance of happening - like winning millions in the lottery for which I never buy a ticket.

Why are these little sister thoughts intruding on my usually fulfilled, satisfied, content and extremely grateful mummy-psyche? My theory is that DD is two-years old. Two years is when families start bringing home the next child. Among DD's friends at nursery, two have just had new additions to their families and another is due in a couple of weeks (all girls coincidentally - but not helpfully).

They say that when God wants to punish you he answers your prayers. It's true that I always loved children and wanted to have a big family. But that was then, when I was also going to be an executive wife and possibly a famous actress. In real life I grew up into a different person. What does the person I am now, in my current life, really want?

Around the time of DD's birthday I had a dream that someone handed me the next baby - as if they automatically arrive at two-year intervals. In my dream I panicked: Oh no! I can't go through all that again. It was wonderful the first time, but now I'm ready to move on to the next stage. I'm looking forward to spending time with my little girl. I don't want another baby now!

It's not just my age (late 40s). As a single mother I feel I can create a good life for two of us. I would cope with three - because I am a coper, but who wants to cope? I want DD and I to have a good life that we can enjoy rather than it passing by in a whirl of logistics, piles of ironing and unmade beds. If I were independently wealthy it might be another story, but I'm not. Therefore, through necessity, I am a totally hands-on mother. This includes hands-on cleaning, shopping, laundry, childcare, bringing home the bacon [except no bacon], and looking after myself. I only have two hands.

Then there is the issue of my health. Thank God, my health is good (pht, pht, pht). However, pregnancy at my age was a strain even two years ago. It would not be fair on DD to risk my health going through another  pregnancy. As much as I would love to give her a sister, a healthy mother is more important for her at this stage in her life.

There is a saying in Hebrew: lo haser li klum. Literally it means: I'm not missing anything. However, the connotation is: There is nothing missing in my life. When I look at DD and play with her, talk with her and do her hair, cuddle with her and share a private joke, I honestly think to myself lo haser li klum.

I hope that DD will continue to build deep relationships with her cousins and our close friends. I promise her a home that will always be open to her friends for play-dates, sleep-overs, weekends, holidays. And I will try to give her an exciting and fun-filled life with a relaxed mummy who has all the time in the world for her (and the housework, earning a salary, etc...).

P.S. For those of you who are wondering, a pregnancy at my age would entail donated eggs. This would not be an issue for me if I were set on having another child. And if he were a boy I would not send him back ;).

Weddings and Potties: the Pain of No Grandchildren

Last night one of my friends made a wedding for her son. This is the second wedding she has made as her daughter got married a couple of years ago. I was at home showing DD the new potty I had bought for her.

Of my friends, only the ones with lots of children have one (two at the most) bar or bat mitzvas left to make. Most of them are on to weddings. About six of my contemporaries have married children and one is a grandmother of twins.

These twins are about six months older than DD, which is very significant. When the two baby girls were born, I was, thankfully, already three months into my pregnancy.

A while ago I read an article in one of the UK newpapers online (I must start making a note of where I read things) written by a childless woman in her 50s. She wrote about how she had got past the baby-blues and had almost forgotten the pain of not having children of her own. In fact, she had been enjoying a period of renewed availability amongst her friends who no longer had to be tied to the home to babysit their young children. As her friend's children grew up, the differences between their lifestyles became less obvious. Once more they were able to meet for coffee, go shopping together or to see a film.

Then the friends started whipping out photos of their newly arrived grandchildren. The writer was not prepared for the violent reaction she felt. She said it was like being childless all over again. All the emotions she had dealt with the first time around, returned with a vengeance. If anything it was even worse as, the first time round she had not entirely given up on becoming a mother.

As I hear about the weddings of my friends' children I am able to rejoice in the cycle of life and be excited for them. I watch DD playing with her new potty in the living-room - it's very good for carrying plastic Disney figures around - and I thank God.

The Great Sterilizing Debate

When DD was born I had a pretty good idea what I wanted to do about most areas of her care. For example, along with breastfeeding, which I did for six months, I knew that I was going to give her one bottle of formula a day. My reasons? As an older mother, I didn't totally trust my milk to be sufficient and I wanted to see at least one bottle of milk go down. As a single mother, I wanted her to be used to the bottle so that other people could feed her occasionally and it not be a big trauma - in case I was not available for any reason. Very soon other reasons joined the list such as, when I was with friends this was important adult company time for me and I didn't want to spend half the time in another room (or at least away from the dinner table) whilst feeding.

However, I had no idea whether sterilizing bottles was required or not. As with most issues, I went looking for the answer I wanted. The sterilizing units were very expensive and would take up yet more counterspace in my already cramped kitchen.

On one side were the mothers who told me that sterilizing was left over from the past when the water supply was not treated as it is today and could not be trusted to be clean enough. On the other side, mothers of children with allergies or sensitive constitutions told me I absolutely must sterilize. Others informed me that dishwashers are sufficiently hot to sterilize as they clean - I don't have one.

In the end a comment from a paediatrician swung the balance. She told me that there was no question I must sterilize. When I asked her why, she replied that parents bring her their babies with diarrhea and they don't make the connection between the runny-tummy and the shmootsy bits left on the bottles when you wash them by hand and don't sterilize. That did it for me - I don't leave shmootsy bits when I wash-up by hand! So I didn't sterilize (although I did pour boiling water over the clean bottles in a mixing bowl for a while) and DD was fine.