#adult nappy women stories

[themanwholovesdiaperedwomen]

Nappy road trip

Here is daddy's adult baby wife wearing her nappy on the road trip that you clearly see in the picture that she gone pee 💦 in her nappy she had pee her pants last long road trip to the family reunion. And had to wear nappies the whole weekend. At the family reunion. While she stay in the baby nursery bedroom taking care of the family members little babies. And sleeping in the nursery. Her daddy. Had to change her nappy.in the baby nursery bedroom. Because he took away all of her toilet privileges and adult responsibility. She. Had to learn a lesson. Not to pee 💦 her pants 👖 in Daddy's car. And now you see her wearing her wet nappy in the car on the long road trip to the family reunion this year but this time she wearing jeans 👖 over her nappy. The end

This has been a fictional adult baby woman story all the characters and places are fictional

Story written by. themanwholovesdiaperedwomen

duty calls 😅

[thecommunityfridge]

(oh gosh the dumb baby didn’t realize she wrote the wrong prompt! maybe you’ll still post it, pretty please?)

This story is fictional and meant for mature audiences only. All characters are 18+.

CW: ABDL, cucking, humiliation

Bricks & Babies

“What do you mean we’re playing Legos for our date with Miss Mallory tonight?” Erica protests as her hands are swallowed by the soft, pink mittens Mommy threatened her with earlier that day. She squeezes her hands, groping the poofy padding. “I won’t be able to put the pieces together with these on! This isn’t fair!”

Bailey tuts, looking down at her wife, frustrated after a long day of putting up with Erica’s bratty attitude. “I warned you, sweetie,” Mommy’s tone turned syrupy sweet and sinister for emphasis, reducing Erica’s strident complaints down to an anxious mumble.

“I warned you that if you couldn’t control yourself at the mall today, then date night might not be as fun for you, didn’t I?” The baby girl just crosses her arms and pouts, knowing deep down that she did earn this punishment. “That’s right, you were in a mood all day, weren’t you?” Mommy continues, pinching Erica’s chin between her finger and thumb, “So rude to that barista, and then you wouldn’t even try on the pretty dress I found for you!”

“But it was so short! It wasn’t gonna cover my diap-” Erica’s whining is quickly snuffed out by the big pacifier that Mommy hid behind her back. “Nuh uh, Mommy’s talking sweetie! Where was I?” Bailey coos, taking her enthralled wife by the hand, leading her to the spacious living area in their cozy apartment. Mommy had set up the center table with two chairs on either side, facing each other. It was clearly set up for a competition of some kind, but it was going to put someone in a regular adult chair against a little baby girl in her high chair!

“M-Mama, wha’th goin’ on?” Baby Erica lisps out, but before Mommy can respond, the bell rings.

“Awww yay! Miss Mallory is here!” Bailey giggles, visibly excited for the throuple’s date. She sets her diapered wife in the high chair and straps her in. As she goes to open the door, Bailey fixes her hair. While Bailey and Erica had been married for years, they agreed their kinky dynamic needed another person. The women dated around, passing on several suitors before meeting Mallory. The confident business executive identified Bailey and Erica’s relationship immediately, knowing they were exactly the women she was looking for as well.

Mommy opens the door, and in strides Miss Mallory, both women in awe of her beauty. Mallory’s tall, curvy figure and personality fills the room. She scoops Bailey into her arms, giving her a deep, passionate kiss. Erica stares enviously, knowing exactly what Mommy and her are doing. She gets so squirmy when Mommy cucks her, and since they fell for Mallory, Erica’s kinks have been in overdrive.

“Hello darling! I’ve missed you so much!” Her light accent makes both Bailey and Erica melt a little. She kicks off her tall heels and strides across the room towards the baby in her high chair. “How are your nappies my precious babe?” Miss Mallory gives Erica a gentle kiss on the top of her head and then an adorable little nose kiss. While she’s distracted by the belittling affection, the larger woman sneaks her finger down Erica’s diaper. “Oh my, someone is already damp, isn’t she?” Bailey bounces over, rejoining her date.

“Are you ready for our game tonight honey?” Bailey’s hands are all over Mallory, right in front of Erica.

“Yes! I’ve been dying to know, you’ve been so mysterious about it!” Bailey leads Mallory into the seat opposing Erica, who gulps nervously. She thought they were all gonna build Legos today, what’s going on?

Erica’s transparent face makes her wife giggle excitedly. “Well, I wanted it to be a surprise for both of you! I thought we’d play a little game with some fun stakes tonight!” Bailey pulls out two boxes of Legos from under the table. Well, on Mallory’s side is a box of Legos. In front of Erica sits a big box of Duplos! Her jaw drops, paci hanging out from between her lips.

“Mama!!! You thaid I’d pway wif Wegos! ‘Dese awe fow babies!” Erica realizes what she said when instead of arguing back, Mommy and Miss Mallory just laugh out loud. The baby just sinks deeper into her seat, so pouty and so turned on by her abject humiliation.

“That’s right sweetie! You complained so much about your cute mittens, I thought these would be the best way for you to play!” Miss Mallory chuckles along, adding, “I’ve never actually played with these, you might have a chance in our game darling!”

Bailey smiles and begins laying out the rules. “Both Mallory and Baby Erica will have to make the same things out of their plastic blocks and whoever makes the best ones gets to sleep with Mommy tonight! And yes sweetie, that means cummies for you if you win!” That’s the last straw for Erica, the blushiness of the competition reducing her to her smallest.

“Mama! Tha’th not faiw! I can’ win wif Dupwos!” Bailey tuts again, glaring into her wife’s whining eyes, “No? Well maybe you shouldn’t have been such a brat today! Besides, I already decided since Miss Mallory is a grown up, she should have an extra rule. She’ll have to follow the instructions perfectly! Any mistakes, and you will automatically win. How does that sound?” Erica relaxes, her eyes big. Maybe there’s a chance she can spend the night with Mommy?

“I gueth tha’th otay…” Bailey rolls her eyes, looking back at her date. “Sound fun babe? We’ve been wanting to introduce you to Legos for a while now!” Miss Mallory puts her hand up on Bailey’s cheek and gives her another passionate kiss with lots of tongue, giving Erica quite the show. “This is perfect Bailey dear, I cannot wait to win you tonight!” She giggles, flashing Erica that wide smile that tells the little girl how much she loves her too. Erica blushes happily, settling in for the game.

“Alright ladies and babies! Your first challenge is: make a woman!” Erica opens her box frantically before realizing how difficult this is going to be. Her box is filled with primary colored squares and bricks, nothing else! She looks across the table at Mallory’s large brick box, filled with all different colors and shapes. Mallory and Bailey are laughing as the British woman flips through the instructions, trying to find the right directions.

Erica struggles, realizing how creative she’ll have to be. She has to use both hands, slowly stacking bricks on top of blocks, making an abstract curvy shape that’s red, yellow, and blue. Maybe it could pass on a restroom sign? Done quickly, she watches as Mallory struggles to find the right bricks in her unorganized pile. It isn’t fair! Erica could build the easy design so quickly if she had the chance, Mallory is so slow! But the beautiful woman diligently puts the various pieces together, revealing an adorable little woman in a purple dress.

Bailey gives both creations a thoughtful evaluation. “Mallory wins! Sorry sweetie, I do love abstract art, but look at her cute dress!” Mommy plays with the brick woman in front of Erica before giving the bricks back to the contestants. “Next, I want you both to make a bicycle! Well, baby girl, why don’t you make a tricycle? That’s more appropriate for you!”

Pouting, feeling the game rigged against her, Erica tries again. Three different colored squares attach to the bottom of a brick, with two more on top as the handlebars. Frustrated at her lack of detail, she looks at the cute design Mallory finishes, much more quickly than last time. Bailey giggles at Erica’s pile of squares before looking over the bicycle across the table. “Oh Mallory, you forgot the back light! That means Erica automatically wins Round 2!” Mallory smiles wider, feeling the competition with the little girl across from her.

“I won? I won!” Erica squeals happily, her mood completely turning around now that she’s tied with Miss Mallory. “I wanna make c-cummieth tho bad Mama!” The bigger women laugh.

“I know you do sweetie, and you might actually have that chance! For our final round, why don’t you both make me…” Mommy thinks carefully, letting the anticipation build. “Let’s do something a little more interesting…” She flips to the back of Mallory’s book, making the woman giggle uncontrollably.

“Darling, that’s so risque!” As Bailey circles around the table towards Erica, Miss Mallory undoes one of the buttons on her blouse, giving the little girl a glimpse of her beloved cleavage.

“See this sweetie?” Bailey blocks Erica’s view for a moment, holding up a picture of the big dildo she uses with Erica in bed! “Go ahead sweetie, make Mommy’s cock!” Erica turns beet red, the only way she’ll be able to represent it is in size! While Mallory can recreate the plunger base, rubber balls, and curved shaft in the pretty rainbow pattern, all Erica can do is stack differently colored squares on top of each other!

Bailey wastes no time on judging the two phallic designs, “Mallory that’s so cute! Let’s put that on display with the rest of our Legos!” Bailey sings a little victory song as she crowns her date the winner, placing the toy dildo on the mantle next to the flowers Erica made her last week.

“Don’t you think it’s SO good, sweetie? Congratulate Miss Mallory on being such a good Lego builder!” I’m so frustrated, all my pent up feelings roaring back in my princess parts at the thought of what’s about to happen.

“C-Congwatuwations Mith Mawwowy…” Her pacified lisp sounds extra pathetic as Mommy secures her wrists to the high chair’s tray. She and Mallory lift the little baby into the bedroom, placing her at the foot of the large bed. Before making her wife watch Mallory plow her with the dildo she just made out of bricks, Bailey leans into Erica’s ear.

“You were such a creative baby girl tonight, so I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to play with yourself while Miss Mallory enjoys her spoils! Love you, darling!” Mommy squeals and dives into Miss Mallory's waiting arms, both women eager to perform for the restrained diaper girl.

There's no deadlines on the prompts! Also this is very very good.

[neshabeingchildish]

Poly Wanna? Ch. 2

So, whenever I said I wasn’t gonna tag again, I didn’t think about the fact that I could simply copy and paste, so I did. Lol. This chapter has a little bit of language (this story will too), but I probably won’t think to put up disclaimers every single time. It’s a Charlotte chapter, basically showing you a little more of how she is in this fic and how she was raised. Hopefully, the story is still enjoyable. I’ve got the thing up on ff.net as well, if it’s easier to follow there because of the emails. At any rate, here is the second installment and let me know if I need to remove you from the next copy+paste tags. 

@adorkable-blackgirl  @chenoahchantel @cactus-con @up-the-tube @riebellion  @itsyaapollochild@oof–musicals @lesbian-so-what @woahjusttakeiteasy-man @meadowstryingtobepretty @imma-sensitive-btch @okaygal21 @midernacht @divinereign4ever @xoxoemille  

02. Born This Way

Getting into the jeep, Charlotte put the key into the ignition, paused and said, “I have to tell you something. I don’t know how to feel about things, right now.”

He looked a little panicked, “What? About me?” He asked in a kind of tiny voice.

“No. About all of that,” she gestured one of her hands towards the brownstone and shook her head, “I mean, on the one hand there’s not a person in this world that I dislike more than Henry Prudence Hart. Seeing him again just brought back a lot of that. Of the dislike, the love, the hurt.  Because, that dislike comes from a place of hurt, because there’s also not a person in this world that I’ve loved more than him and he just… you know… didn’t even care at all.”

Jasper took her shaking hand into his and assured her, “Look, I know that feeling, but I promise you, he did care. He didn’t know how to show it, but he really loved you when you were together and he was extremely hurt when it ended. He knew it was his fault and he hated that he had hurt you. But, also, if you think you can’t do this, we can call him up right now and tell him we’re out. He’s resourceful. He’ll manage.”

“I really want to do it, though. I think it might give me a chance to kind of be seen for who I am and explain myself. To my parents, you know? To familiars that might tune in. Maybe it’ll help me take a look at myself, even? You know? Jasper, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, but I have to start somewhere in figuring it out. I can’t just coast by on autopilot.” He nodded his head, kissed her hand and let it go. “So, you seemed fine, though. How often do you see him?”

He paused and shook his head, “Not often at all, but anytime I do see him, it’s almost like nothing’s changed. Like, I forget for a moment that we went through the things that we went through. That he put me through what he out me through. It’s like he charms me into being warm with him and then I walk away and wonder why I was so cordial and why I seemed to forget my anger when he’s there, but remember it when he isn’t. But… I figure that’s because he wants me to forget about it. Henry is cunning. He helps people look at relations and find solutions. He can finesse an ex or two in a heartbeat and not bat an eye. When all is said and done, that part of my life is over with and me still being angry about it is only gonna hurt me. So, I just shake it off.”

“Like the Devil,” Charlotte said and nodded. Jasper raised an eyebrow. She was finally ready to start driving, humming the tune to “Shake the Devil Off,” as she did.

.

To be clear, Henry was her first. She had consciously made a decision, and he was her top choice. She grew up with what she now classified as “two potentials.” That was Henry Hart and Jasper Dunlop. They were both stupid, gross boys for her childhood days, but eventually there was puberty and the hormones mingled with the close proximity swayed that viewpoint a little bit. She could honestly say that she felt like she had crushes on both of them, at different times - like when they needed her, or when they weren’t annoying her, or being stupid… So… you know, a little bit here and there. 

It wasn’t until her mother decided that it was time for “the talk” that she ever really thought about it, though. Honestly, she was friends with them and for her, that meant that she loved them. She wasn’t thinking about dating or anything sexual, really, though she had imagined a kiss or a hand hold or something and figured whenever she was ready to try it, it would be with a friend. She only had two, so it wasn’t something she had to juggle, or anything.

The talk for her was a painful and irritating experience. Charlotte had to have several “the talk” talks with her mother. She had one when she first went to school. She was going to be out in the world, by herself and needed to know about the danger of strangers and the threat of racial discrimination. Her mother had taught her that whenever she was in trouble, try to find a Black woman, “you know, yours and Mommy’s color,” because ‘find an adult’ just wasn’t sufficient for many kids, much less for a Black one and even though Black women weren’t perfect, by a longshot, Mrs. Page leaned on the side of hope that one would see herself in the young girl and attempt to assist her. There were just too many horror stories for her to feel comfortable advising her to find just any adult. 

She had one when the school first contacted Mrs. Page about Charlotte’s “unruly hair.” That was more of Mrs. Page coming down to the school and reading everybody in the administration office for filth about her beautiful daughter’s natural hair, with her own big afro swinging with the sway of her head. She had fussed at those people and educated them at the same time, right before withdrawing Charlotte from the school and enrolling her at Swellview Elementary. Charlotte learned a lot that day, so she considered it a talk. The ride home was her mother telling her about how when she was little, her grandmother put chemicals in her hair to make it straight and that half of it fell out and some parts still didn’t grow properly. She told her that businesses and institutions often tried to penalize girls like them for how they were naturally made. “Not because there’s anything wrong with you, but because there’s something wrong with them. There’s something evil inside and they don’t even know it, but it’s thought to be normal to say that a child has ugly features because they don’t look exactly like white girls’. If you ask me, that’s what’s ugly - saying that a child needs to change her looks just because! You’re healthy, clean, clothed, and happy. Never let their judgement change that last one. It isn’t worth it.”

The talk whenever she “became a young lady,” was more like a Q and A, fill in the blank type talk. She’d asked her if she knew what was happening to her body, instead of presuming that she needed it explained, and then she filled in the parts that Charlotte was not exactly clear on. And her mom was the best about periods. She hadn’t heard many stories from friends about it. But Mrs. Page had “period packs,” which included vitamins, medication specifically for this time, a selection of sanitary supplies for fluctuation in the flow, heating pads, safe period snacks (stuff that you’re actually supposed to eat, as opposed to the crap your body might crave), a fun period journal, a scream pillow, and books about it by Black gynecologists or specifically targeting Black girls. 

At this point, some of you may be thinking, “Wow, Charlotte’s mom is OBSESSED with Blackness/Black girl things…” And the short answer is, yes. She feels like she has to make sure that Charlotte didn’t have to relearn how to treat herself and love herself in her body, in this town. Which… isn’t an openly bigoted town, but an American town with a low population of other Black people. All subject matter generally has whiteness and their experiences as a default and an audience. Charlotte’s mother internalized a lot as a dark skinned girl child with “nappy” hair that needed straightening and next to no representation in media or her environment. She didn’t want Charlotte to ever have to battle loving herself. She had promised, before she was ever born that she would be a different kind of mother than the self-loathing woman who brought her up. Anywho…

The “some people say the birds and the bees, but this is really about your body and what you want to do with it,” talk was something else. It was the first time since that racism one she had going into Kindergarten that she was confused about every part of this. Now, her mother never gave her anything to have to relearn about her hair, her skin, or her body itself… But what she wanted to do with it? That woman had Charlotte ALL discombobulated after their talk.

Mostly due to “the choice.” They had went through the biology - yes, Charlotte was a girl, she knew it and didn’t have any other thoughts or need any hormone blockers, or have any dysmorphia or even general questions about her gender identity. She had always been a girl and never had a doubt. But, taking that time to learn about transgender identities and her cis-privilege was extremely fascinating to her and stuck with her. “Just how you would want someone to treat you with the respect you deserve and have your back in spaces where they have privilege, I hope that I’ve raised you to stick up for those who don’t.” Of course. They went through the process of the reproductive system via sexual intercourse and the possibility of same sex attraction. Charlotte didn’t think that she was attracted to girls, but she couldn’t say for sure, because honestly, at that point, she wasn’t exactly sexually attracted to boys either. So, her mom covered some same sex topics, as well, just in case and stressed the importance of Charlotte knowing that she wouldn’t judge her and would love her no matter what. So, HERE’S where Charlotte’s confusion came in… 

Because, she was too young to know the terminology for all of this and because it wasn’t really an accepted form of relationship status - she couldn’t really grasp the concept where her mother said things like, “When you choose a partner,” or “the person that you are involved with,” or “the boy (or girl) that you like and want to share yourself with.”

“So what if it winds up being boys AND girls?” she wondered. Her mom gave her a description of bisexuality and how she’d still be able to consider herself as such, even if she was with a boy. “Yeah, but what if I’m with a boy AND a girl, I mean? Like, at the same time?” Her mother looked uncomfortable, but explained that sometimes people had threesomes, but warned her that it wasn’t always good for people to do. Sometimes, it hurt their relationship with (here was that phrase again) “the person that they’re actually involved with.”

Charlotte sighed, “Okay. But, like… I feel like I’m not expressing myself very clearly. I mean like… What if I have a boyfriend, and at the same time, I have a girlfriend? I mean, they offer two different things, really any two individuals can, two boys, for instance, or three, you know? I’m asking you, relationship-wise, I guess, what is the reasonable way to have relationships like that?”

Her mother now looked kind of horrified for a moment, and she didn’t usually look at Charlotte that way, so immediately, red flags went off and Charlotte just knew that she had entered into a space that was unacceptable and now they were there and she would have to tough it out. At that moment (she realized much later), she internalized some disdain for herself, because of her mother’s reaction to a question that Charlotte identified with.

“Well, that sounds like cheating, to me,” her mother said. “Sometimes, they do stuff like that in sex cults and hippy communes,” she said. “But, civilized people don’t date two of three boys. Ladies, if they’re good and respect themselves will only date one person at a time and just pour all that love that they think that they have to spread around into that person.”

She winced, but she really needed to clarify to her mom, because what if her mother thought she was some depraved sex cult potential, because of this. Surely, there was a classy way to explain her feelings… “But, what happens if you like more than one person at the same time, but for different reasons, and they like you back? What if the two people are very different and you love each of them, a lot and have the love to pour into both?” 

Her mother nodded and blew out a gust of air. Charlotte felt like she still must’ve been explaining her feelings wrong. Her mom just said, “Well, in that case, you just have to figure out what’s best for you, and remember that you can’t have it all.”

Charlotte asked, “So, if I like them both and they both like me, and - I should have said this part earlier - they’re fine with sharing me with each other, and me pouring love into both of them, I should just pick one of them? They’re equals, but individuals. I can’t find in one what I have in the other, and everyone is fine with it. That’s okay, right? That’s a consensual and valid thing, yeah?” She asked, getting more nervous with each troubled movement of her mother’s eyebrows.

“Charlotte… are you having feelings for two boys?” She asked.

“No!” She lied, having already seen that her mother would disapprove if she admitted the truth and feeling super guilty about lying about something like this, because she and her mom were pretty tight with their talks and this one was going completely off the rails. “I’m just still learning.”

Her mother nodded, “Well, to that person, I would say, sure… you can do whatever you want and be with whoever you want, as long as nobody gets hurt, but I would have to seriously wonder how possible it is for such a dynamic to continue without anybody getting hurt.” And that was that on that. Charlotte felt like if she ever did what she now knew to be a “polyamorous” relationship, somebody might get hurt. She still to this day felt like that, even though technically, she knew better. It was more accepted now and it was valid for those who were actually seeking it, not just some of the people like her mother probably imagined who just cheated on people and claimed to be poly, without ever acknowledging things for their partners. 

But, on that day, of that talk… She made a choice. The “best” choice. She chose Henry. Not out loud, or even to his face, but in the back of her mind, as that person. The one that she might date. The one that she might kiss. The one that she might hold hands with, or whatever else. In the back of her mind, because once again, she wasn’t thinking about sex, at all, or romance, or marriage, or anything of the sort. As long as she could still be friends with both of her boys, she had everything she needed for the era that she was living in. The only reason that she felt like she was even thinking about all of this now was because she’d subconsciously made that choice, all those years ago, and whenever it did come up, she made the choice out loud. It was clearly the wrong goddamned choice, considering! So, she backtracked and made the other choice and by the way, the way that she was feeling about Jasper, she would have loved to have been hip enough to make this choice a long time ago! 

Jasper was the epitome of carefree and could be the poster boy for self love and positivity movements. He always made everybody around him feel warm and cared for. He was a loving friend and dedicated lover. He loved you more than he loved himself, which was saying a lot, because he loved himself so much that he ALWAYS knew that he was dope in a crop top, even when everybody thought he was on some BS. He felt fine with that 11th toe above his ankle and sometimes, jokingly called it his ‘ankle rack,’ he wore an anklet that went sideways because he’d not put it beneath the thing, and he got his outie pierced, It had a damn bucket charm hanging from it. Motherfucker used to call himself a buckateer! In mixed company! 

They pulled up home and she simply smiled at him. He smiled back and looked a little confused, but still happy, “What?” He wondered.

“I wish I would have skipped him and gotten to you, first,” she said. 

He smiled wider, but tilted his head a little, in disagreement. “I’m glad that you found me when you did. I think that the things that I’ve experienced have been really good foundation for building things with you. Like… You know, you’ve gotta make a few mistakes before you realize what you’re doing and I’m glad that I’ve made my mistakes with other people, so that you can have the best version of me to be with now.” 

She sighed and turned off the jeep, “Alright. Let’s get inside. My entire body is ready.” He chuckled, getting out of the vehicle and collected her from behind while she was trying to run inside to get busy. “Hey,” he said gently. She turned and looked at him. “I’m sorry that he hurt you, but I’m glad that he lost you, because of what I have.”

“Dude! My panties are literally melting off. Are you trying to make me jump you, right here?” She asked. He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder and she let out a playful scream-laugh that probably got at least a couple of nosy neighbors glancing out to see what was happening. Sure, Henry stirred up some pain today, but this was the end result. Jasper was right. This was the best version of him. Her mother had been wrong. She could have everything. As of right now, that’s precisely what Jasper TBD Dunlop was.

[chanzicoup]

A/N: I got this template from tenseoyong and I could not find the original creator to give proper credit to.

A = Announcement.- How do you tell him and the world that you’re expecting?

You would confide in one of the older members first, not so sure where to go with this unplanned pregnancy. They would advise you to sit down and talk to him that very night, and that they’d be there if you wanted them too. Which was exactly what you did.

B = Books.- Did he read the books?

He wouldn’t read the books. That’s so old-fashioned.

C = Cuddles.- Who cuddles the baby more?

You have two Hoshis now, the baby being identical to their father. Of course you couldn’t resist kissing their cheeks every moment of the day!

D = Daddy.- (His reaction to being called Daddy and it setting in.)

He is just so giddy so when the reporter asked him what it’s like being a father while he was walking into the airport he stops, pulls out his phone, and starts showing the reporter all the photos of the baby he’s got. He almost missed his flight and would have if his manager didn’t see him and pull him along.

E = Empty.- Who goes to the store when you guys run out of supplies?

You guys become survivalists when you run out of baby food, making your own with whatever ingredients you can find until there’s literally nothing left and you guys are forced to go out and buy s shiz ton of food to last for months.

F = Feeding time- Who does feeding time?

He might be the one who feeds the baby most of the time, probably because I can see his family being close and using meal times to gather the family and he’d like to carry on the tradition to his children.

G = Grumpy baby. - Who is better at dealing with a grumpy baby?

Hoshi would deadass mimick the baby until they stopped acting out or until you got annoyed with the both of them and took the baby, calming them down in a different way.

H = How?- how many kids does he want?

A lot. It’s just. Woah. He’d want like six or seven when in reality he’d probably get two or three.

J = Jokes.- best dad joke?

He wouldn’t be able to get through it, laughing mid-way uncontrollably.

K = Kisses.- His favorite place to kiss the baby.

Cheeks.

L = Little.- How he feels when he holds the baby for the first time.

He even says it’s like looking in a mirror, that his baby is his partner in crime. He tells them stories about the things he wants to do with them, all the things he’ll teach them, and how lucky they are to have such an awesome mom.

M = Mommy.- what does he call you?

“Angel”

N = Nappies.- who deals with the really bad diapers?

Since it’s surprisingly gross how many times your child poops in their diaper you guys would just do it as soon as you noticed, not passing the baby to the other or waiting for them to ask if the baby needed to be changed.

O = Onesies- Who likes to dress the baby in ridiculous outfits?

Hoshi wouldn’t call them ridiculous outfits, it’s more like an acute fashion sense.

P = Pet names- names he calls the baby.

“Hon/Hun”

Q = Questions.- How many questions does he ask the nurse?

He’d be pretty confident and not have any questions until after the baby was born. The all of the sudden he’s calling the pediatrician after hours for the baby’s runny nose.

R = Rely- what is the biggest thing you rely on each other for?

You guys would just want to feel safe with one another, you’ve felt vulnerable since the birth which was completely normal for most women due to raging hormones still secreting. While Hoshi is getting emotional with his firstborn and his life going on and on while he isn’t comprehending a lot of it. He just wants you for reassurance and love just like you want from him.

S = Sleep duty. - who gets up when it’s really late at night?

Hoshi is a bundle of everything during the daytime so at night he’s a cuddly mush ball and is out like a light. He won’t refuse to take the night shift since you need your rest too.

T = Trepidation.- fears as a new parent.

He’s afraid of slipping up at some point and not pulling through when he’s needed to.

U = Ultra sounds.- His reactions to the ultrasounds.

When you told him you were pregnant he was so happy and excited to become the father. He scheduled an appointment the next day with your doctor to make sure everything was going smoothly and to see how far along you were since neither of you was completely sure. That was where the doctor told you both that you were three months pregnant and an ultrasound was performed. This was the stage where you can see a pretty good image of the baby and you both got emotional finding out it was twins!

V = Values.- what is the most important value he wants to teach your child.

Since he’s having twins he knows that they’d never be alone since they’d always have each other but he wants them to learn that they are their own person and to have their own identity, no matter how many times he confuses his identical twins.

W = Water.- Who gives the babe the baths?

You both would have to do it since there are two of them and it’s way to difficult if one of you do it. They get to bed faster when there are two adults on hand.

X = X-mas- what do you guys plan for the holidays?

You guys go all out for Halloween, dressing up as a pirate family or something, but for Christmas, you all take a trip to another country, after spending time with the family of course. Your vacations was a chance to make memories.

Y = Yelling.- How many fights do the two of you get in?

I can imagine you guys would fight often, you both are constantly exhausted and stressed with work, life, and now two babies at a time. You guys would make up though, seeing that it was a pointless argument.

Z = Zoo- How crazy is the house after the birth?

It’s a big mess and you guys become that family that ends up only cleaning when you have company or hiring a maid to come in three times a week if you can afford it.

~Blake

[satingarage2-blog]

<h1 style="clear:both" id="content-section-0">The 15-Second Trick For Watch Capone - Prime Video - Amazon.com</h1>

Table of ContentsFascination About Capone Movie Accuracy: Fact Vs. Fiction In The Tom Hardy Biopic.The smart Trick of Capone (2020) - Rotten Tomatoes That Nobody is Talking AboutLittle Known Facts About Tom Hardy Is Al Capone: First Look At 'Fonzo' Gangster ....The Basic Principles Of Capone Movie Review: Tom Hardy Delivers Most Unsettling ... The Facts About Capone True Story I Real Life Story Behind Tom Hardy's Al ... Uncovered

Watching Movies For Free Here -> Capone 2020

Between MacLachlan's work with David Lynch and his present and approaching historic functions were some pivotal TELEVISION appearances. On Desperate Housewives, he played Bree Van De Kamp (Marcia Cross's) 2nd partner after her first was murdered. Sex and the City still plays in repeats and is offered to stream on Amazon Prime, HBO and DirecTV.

" In New york city, it's still such a popular show," MacLachlan stated. "People enjoy referring to it and remember it. I'll see [Mr. Big star] Chris Noth sometimes." MacLachlan reunited with Lynch when Lynch restored his TV series, Twin Peaks, on Showtime. MacLachlan not just reprised his original function of Representative Cooper, but Lynch developed the new character Dougie. al capone movie quotes.

However, Dougie could hardly speak, dressed in large-scale clothing, and acted childish (al capone godfather movie). "I do not believe, if it were anybody else however David Lynch, that I would have had the chance to do something like that," MacLachlan said.

Excitement About Netflix Film Is Grotesque, Inglorious Look At Capone's Last Year ...

Image: Vertical EntertainmentIt was probably inescapable that Tom Hardythat stocky English bulldog of a motion picture starwould one day slip into the slick closet, blemished skin, and vicious disposition of Al Capone. (Hardy has, like Robert De Niro before him, played his of, those functions leading like a trail of bodies to the most notorious of them all.) Yet al capone movie accuracy that stumbles through nearly every scene of Josh Trank's baroque postscript of true-crime drama is no longer the Chicago kingpin of heading infamy.

Hardy, simply put, hasn't been cast for his malleably enforcing body so much as his determination to reduce it. He looks both huge and little, communicating the physicality of someone utilized to towering above everyonedwarfing them with the enormousness of his body and enormity of his reputationwho's now found himself shrinking day by day.

The movie is set in the late 1940s, after Capone's eight-year jail sentence for tax evasion, and almost totally within the luxurious Florida estate where he invested the rest of his life, under the care of his ceaselessly devoted partner, Mae (Linda Cardellini). He was, at that point, suffering from extreme signs of unattended syphilis; his body and mind decreasing in tandem along with his disappearing empire, fortune, and pawned possessions.

The Of Netflix Film Is Grotesque, Inglorious Look At Capone's Last Year ...

Capone (2020 film) - Wikipedia

However not all of his issues are in his head: The feds are viewing him, hoping to dig up something more damning than the financial criminal offenses for which he served so little time. This is nothing close to a thorough biopic, which is a relief, in theory. There are no flashbacks to the Windy City and little in the way of exposition; besides the crackle of a radio play dramatizing the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre, Capone's life of crime stays unrecounted, its exploits presumed known.

What's real or not isn't always clear, due to the fact that the film in some cases unfolds from the cloudy viewpoint of its mentally adrift subject. One might naturally think about and its own representation of time reaching a fixture of orderly criminal offense. However Capone nearly plays like a defense to those who insisted Scorsese's movie was too damn long: There's less power to seeing the pathetic final stretch of a life without the context of whatever that came previously.

Yet there's just so much actual drama Trank can wring from these last days, provided simply how much dementia had overtaken Capone's mind. If he can hardly remember his sins, how can he face them? Capone ends up mainly emphasizing the corporeal indignities and paradoxes of his decrease: the mighty Scarface vomitting into a trashcan, loudly shitting his trousers throughout an useless FBI interrogation, andafter a stroke presses him even further from his heyday fearsomenesschewing on carrots like a ludicrous animation parody of his stogie-chomping self - al capone movie sean connery.

How Capone Movie Review: Tom Hardy Delivers Most Unsettling ... can Save You Time, Stress, and Money.

( Trank, one may presume, is a David Cronenberg fan, provided the quantity of body horror he's now slipped into both the superhero- and gangster-movie genres.) The FBI's obsession with monitoring Capone throughout his last few years may have sprung, on some level, from a cultural exasperationthe public sense that this outsized monster got off method too simple for his years of unspeakable transgression.

However that doesn't leave Hardy extremely much to do but dismantle his intimidating existence; it's a commanding physical performance in search of a richer characterization, of any sense of who Capone was. Someplace in the middle, his Fonzo stumbles into the restroom and captures a twinkle of his old, healthy self in the mirror, still appearing like a frightening king among crooks (al capone full movie).

Innovation needs to make that possible, even after he passes the age when the actual Capone could not play the function any longer.

The Buzz on Capone Movie Review: Tom Hardy At His Most Maximalist

Al Capone (film) - Wikipedia

TOM Hardy looks unrecognisable after a drag transformation in unusual scenes from his gritty new Al Capone film. The 42-year-old British star plays the infamous American gangster in the new movie which documents a year of his life towards the end of his days. 7 Tom Hardy looks unrecognisable after a drag improvement in bizarre scenes from his gritty brand-new Al Capone movie Capone was released from prison in 1939 after serving practically 8 years of his 11 year sentence for tax evasion.

The film follows Capone's life under house arrest in Florida after his release, and his battle with neurosyphilis. The mobster not just suffers harrowing flashbacks to his life of criminal activity, but in strange scenes, dresses up in drag, complete with head scarf. 7 The 42-year-old British actor plays the infamous American gangster in the brand-new film which records a year of his life towards the end of his days 7 In bizarre scenes, dresses up in drag, total with head headscarf 7 The movie follows Capone's life under house arrest in Florida after his release, and his battle with neurosyphilis 7 Capone is driving an automobile wearing womanly cats eye sunglasses, a patterned neck headscarf and a women's broad brilled black hat In another scene, Capone is driving a vehicle along with Matt Dillon's character wearing womanly cats eye sunglasses, a patterned neck headscarf and a females's broad brilled black hat.

He swaps his cigar for a carrot at one point, and soils himself leading to him wearing dressing dress and adult nappies around his house. The movie is directed by Josh Trank however the first reviews have been mixed. Gogglebox stars' kids you never ever see on screenTanned Ulrika Jonsson gets 'very drunk' at child's 16th birthday partyExclusiveGMB gets 76 Ofcom grievances on Piers Morgan's first day backEastEnders, Emmerdale and Coronation Street's real life siblingsExclusiveVictoria Beckham made 1m by NOT singing at Spice Ladies' reunion tourAlan Halsall swims with child and sweetheart after encountering ex 7 Capone swaps his stogie for a carrot at one point 7 Capone winds up wearing adult nappies after staining himself as he fights dementia A number of critics praised Tom' efficiency, saying it is a "career-best" and "worth the rate of admission", others felt it offered nothing brand-new on the strange life of the infamous Capone.

[silencestaredmeintheface]

Hey gal and non-gal pals!

I’m nearly 2 weeks into my recovery from kissing my womb goodbye and wanted to share/launch my blog with everyone. Each entry is a peek into every moment from my bloody journey to becoming period-free. These posts come with a disclaimer attached, they may and probably will contain unsuitable language for those who clearly have never experienced a period from hell and will also include graphic descriptions of, you got it, periods. Tap out now if you don’t have the lady balls to deal with it.

I felt it was important to share my story and get my experiences/decisions across in a way that removes stigma and the taboo of discussing the red wave, time of the month, shark week (other amusing names available).

I’m 28 years old and I’ve had a hysterectomy. No brainer, best decision of my life.

Whilst I have been fighting for my own body’s say over the last 4 ish years, I have experienced the extremes of physical and mental issues all because my uterus was having a mare.

Whether you’ve got a womb, know someone who has one or have always dreamed of owning one, there will be something you can relate to. After-all, we were all grown inside one right?

To those that are going through lady-time hell, or any chronic ailment that you don’t think you can see the end of, you’re an absolute hero and you can do it!

Please share this post with absolutely anyone, it’s time young women’s health is spoken about openly.

Because periods suck.

WEBSITE:

www.talesofauterus.com

New posts every week.

The first 3 are live as a superfun taster for you all: A womb with a view Blood stains, sweat & tears Negative thoughts, not going out & nappies

Shout out to my long-suffering and practically full-time carer of a wife. She’s a babe and if you can’t buy the one you love adult nappies, is she even your wife? Thanks Jess! xoxo

Peace out.

[babystuffs]

Are you a new parent? Here are your tips

When our first son was born, I was a musician, which meant that, apart from not making much money, I was home a lot during the day with my wife and baby. Sometimes, when I saw she was exhausted, I would try to help out by shooing her off to bed. “Don’t worry,” I’d say to Holly. “I’ll look after him. Get some rest.”

Inevitably, Riley would start fussing. I’d be working away to comfort him, and before long I would hear the thump, thump, thump of Holly running down the stairs as if the house were on fire. Although she never actually said these words, the urgency of her movement and her body language said, “What are you doing to my baby?!” It was as if she just had to know, at that millisecond, exactly what was going on and what she could do about it. Eventually we were able to joke about it, but at first I saw it as interference. I wanted the chance to learn to comfort Riley myself, and I needed the time and space to work it out. I wasn’t going to get anywhere if I got rescued whenever the going got tough.

Top 3 Dutailier Glider Reviews 2019 : Comfort For You And Your Baby! https://www.newmomstuff.com/3-dutailier-glider-reviews-comfort-for-you-and-your-baby

What I didn’t realize was that my wife’s behaviour was much more about her than it was about me. I didn’t understand the pressure she felt to become an instantly competent mom, nor her intense need to bring order to her drastically altered world, and that meant being able to calm her baby.

It might seem odd to begin an article about fathers and babies with a story about a father and mother. However, I think that’s where you have to start because, while a mother has a pretty direct line to her baby, a father’s connection goes through the mother and, in the beginning, the father-infant relationship can never totally exclude her. When a new dad wants to build his relationship with the baby (which we’ll get into later) he must remember that it develops within the context of the mother-baby relationship. If he doesn’t understand this, he may run into trouble.

Best Baby Bottle Warmer Review for 2019 https://www.newmomstuff.com/baby-bottle-warmer

There was a time when we didn’t need to think about this. Gender roles were clearly divided and babies were seen by everyone as women’s territory. But now, fathers have invaded that territory. In our culture, most fathers want to be — and are expected to be—involved with their babies. That’s good, but we need to keep in mind that some of the realities from the past still hold true today.

Women are still socially and biologically programmed to be parents much more strongly than men are. Mothers expect to be “in charge” of babies and, in most families, they assume that role early on. When a father moves in to pick up the baby, he’s moving into her world. Therefore he needs to understand a little about that world.

The first thing to recognize is the intense nature of her relationship with her child. She’s in love, or at least falling in love. Clearly it’s not exactly the same as it is with a lover, but the emotional intensity and the obsession are similar. At times she acts as though the rest of the world is irrelevant. Observant fathers pick up on this and quickly get a sense that something of great significance is going on between their partner and the new baby. Often they are in awe of this relationship and will defer to mother and baby in order to keep from interfering with it. This is partly a good thing—the emerging mother-baby relationship needs to be supported, and fathers can play an important role by mothering the mother. (Somehow, “fathering the mother” doesn’t have quite the right ring to it.) But a father needs to develop his own connection, which means he needs to get at the baby. This is when he can become an “intruder” if he doesn’t watch his step, as my first experiences with Riley illustrated.

How to Clean and Sterilize Baby Bottles: The Ultimate Guide https://www.newmomstuff.com/cleaning-and-sterilizing-baby-bottles

These encounters taught me (although I didn’t fully understand it until later) that the relationship between my wife and our sons was palpably physical. The mind and body of a mother are intimately connected. When a nursing woman hears her baby cry, even if she’s in another room, it triggers the release of a hormone that lets down her milk and makes her breasts leak. That kind of physical response, combined with the strong emotional connection, means that most mothers respond to a baby’s distress more quickly and strongly than fathers. That’s what compelled Holly to take the baby from me sometimes. Even though she desperately needed rest, there was just no way for her to lie up there and relax while he was crying. If her baby was in distress, she was in distress.

It wasn’t really a question of who was right and who was wrong. Holly was right to respond to those cues. That was part of what helped her become a good mom. But, at the same time, I was right to want to learn to comfort Riley myself.

This dynamic plays out a little differently in each family, but I think it speaks to an incompatibility that a man must acknowledge and work around. It requires an adroit balance: He must patiently persist in establishing his own connection with his child, while at the same time supporting and respecting his partner’s relationship with the baby. It’s one step forward, one step back. The idea is to make the forward steps a little bigger.

Source: todaysparent.com/baby/newborn-care/a-rookie-dads-guide-to-newborns/

There simply aren’t words to describe the elation – or exhaustion – you will feel once you have left the hospital and are holding the baby you’ve been feeling move inside your belly. But how to you bathe the baby? Or feed it? Or know what to do with all that poo?

Top 10 Round Baby Crib and Accessories: 2019 Buying Guide https://www.newmomstuff.com/round-baby-crib

For answers on exactly what  is going on – and more importantly, what exactly is normal – read this: The lowdown on newborn baby poo

Bet you never thought you’d be so obsessed with human poo before, right? All of a sudden, mothers need to know the colour, consistency and frequency of every poo – as if looking into a nappy will give us the answers to the universe. To be fair, it’s one way to make sure our baby is well fed and healthy. Seeing an off-putting bowel movement can send us into panic mode but here’s what you need to know about the poo:

   If your baby is eating normally and doesn’t seem sick, changes in the colour (even green or grey) and consistency of the stool is most likely normal.    Expect 6 to 8 stools a day.     A newborn’s first stools (known as meconium) are a thick, sticky, tar-like substance, which will then transition into a grainy yellow or brown by day three or four.    Formula-fed babies tend to have a slightly formed, yellow or tan coloured stool, while breastfed babies often have a more liquid or creamy mustard-colored bowel movement.    If the stool is very frequent, watery and green looking, chances are the baby is having diarrhea.

Best Bottles for Breastfed Babies https://www.newmomstuff.com/best-bottles-for-breastfed-babies

Worried that your little one is constipated because you haven’t seen a bowel movement lately?

   Constipated stools will be pebble-sized and firm, sometimes with bloody streaks.    The frequency has nothing to do with constipation, as it does with adults.    It’s normal for babies to grunt and strain during a normal, healthy bowel movement. In fact, they can be downright vaudevillian during a poo.

All you need to know about newborn skin rashes and blotches

Your baby’s skin might be virginal and pure but don’t expect it to look perfect on a newborn. Here are just some of the blips and bumps likely to afflict your precious bundle:

   Newborn acne is very common and, just like their future bouts as teenagers, is caused by hormones – your hormones, that is. Don’t worry; this is in no way an indication of future problems to come, and it should look better in the first few weeks. The best way to treat it is to do nothing – don’t pick, scrub or treat them.    Dry and peeling skin is simply the shedding of dead skin, and using lotions won’t speed up this process.    Nappy rash is largely preventable. Change your baby’s nappy as soon as possible after it’s soiled. Then after wiping the area clean, use a warm wet washcloth to clean the area and perhaps apply a barrier or rash cream. There’s not much more you can do. If disposable nappies are giving your baby a rash, try switching to cloth and vice versa.    Erythema Toxicum is a scary sounding name for a simple and short-lived skin condition: Blotchy red patches with pale centers. Before you know it, the marks will disappear on its own.    Birthmarks are another common skin imperfection that comes in all shapes and colors, and even the most alarming looking marks might fade with time. Check with your doctor if you have any concerns.

Caring for the umbilical cord

The umbilical cord will most likely fall off by itself in anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks, and you shouldn’t touch or pick the scab-like stump.

   Wash the umbilical cord three to five times a day with plain water or rubbing alcohol, depending on your doctor’s instructions.    Discharge (which might contain a small amount of blood) is normal, but if oozing is accompanied with a foul odor, redness surrounding the cord, or fever, call your doctor immediately.

Penis care

Whether to circumcise a baby boy’s penis – which means removing the foreskin that surrounds the head of the penis – is personal, often rooted in religious or cultural norms. Parents should follow their gut and do what they feel is best for their child. Circumcised penises

During the recovery period, dab petroleum jelly on the penis and cover in sterilized gauze with each diaper change until the site heals, usually in the first couple of days.

    A little oozing and crusting is normal, as is soreness and a small amount of bleeding. Be gentle and let his body heal on its own.    If there is any unusual swelling, odor or excessive bleeding, call your doctor.    Avoid submerging the penis in water during this recovery period, which won’t be difficult considering his umbilical cord can’t get wet either.    Once the wound heals, simply wash the penis with soap and water.

Uncircumcised penises

   There’s no special care needed for an uncircumcised penis beyond washing the outside with soap and water.    Until the foreskin is retractable (usually not until puberty), don’t try to clean under it.

Source: kidspot.co.nz/baby/ultimate-newborn-first-week-guide/

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

carlwritesbadsmut replied to your post: everyone is expecting Leyla to come back with...

Was it said he didn’t use protection with those two?

was it said that he did? I mean almost all women who have sex on this show get pregnant or at the very least a pregnancy scare. I mean just the past year or so we had

REBECCA -  ‘nuff said Priya - when she was banging Pete. Chas - had a kid as a teenager but as an adult doesn’t know how to prevent getting pregnant Belle - dodged a bullet there girl Meghan - fucked graham and had a pregnancy test in her bag in last nights ep Tracy - fucked david last week, apparently thinks she might be pregnant next week Doc’s wife will fuck david next week * i think* so three guesses where that’s going.

I’m kinda surprised Gabby hasn’t had a teenage pregnancy story yet.

David’s gonna be changing a lot of nappies

[fatgirlsguidetodating]

(Not) Like a Queen.

When you blog it becomes part of the crazy entity known as the interwebz pretty much as soon as you press the post button. I know these blogs aren't private so I watch what I write- to some extent- and I don't advertise my name, location, photo etc. but those who blog with the main aim to become famous bloggers (who are only a rung ahead of Instagram famous models and Facebook famous people) do that. They share warts (or in the case of a so-called queen blogger chylmydia) and all stories about their lives. The most prevalent of these would be mummy bloggers. And the most prominent one of them is Queen Constance Hall. Originally I didn't mind her, I liked that she kept it real and admitted that you know what, being a mum isn't a walk in the park, there are hard days and sometimes it gets a bit too much but more so the message that you didn't need to have that perfect body! But then, as she continued, I found myself wanting to give her a good hard slap (after brushing that mop she calls hair!). Because her message about empowering other women, her queens, got lost in her desire to be famous by posting more and more shocking things. And when people disagreed with her her queens would turn on those people with a true mob mentality, tearing them down in defence of their queen. If she had kept her message like it was originally maybe I'd still be a fan. Maybe. But when a woman deletes and blocks you for disagreeing with her (labelling you a troll, bully or hater for the fact you had a different point of view than she did!), sicks her army on you, posts photos that are half naked with things like shorts riding up her vaj or wearing adult nappies that were bought "by mistake" instead of pads- cos they look sooooo alike right?-, posts photos of her on the toilet or having a crap by the side of the road, has her kids running around in soiled nappies down to their ankles practically, publicly shares a photo of her kids with a man playing Santa who she called a pedo, etc- well that's not a queen. It's so far from a queen it's laughable! Here's the thing: SHE chose to put her life out there in the public sphere std's and all, kids and all, way too many half naked selfies and all, all because she wanted to be famous. And when you do that you have to be prepared that not everyone is going to agree with you. Blocking them or having her queen army harass them all over social media isn't the regal way to handle it. Instead she should think about what she posts before thinking about fame and the amount of likes, books sold and newspaper articles she can be in. Instead she should acknowledge not everyone agrees with her and maybe engage in some kind of intellectual debate about it. But she doesn't. She cries about haters and whips her army into a frenzy. Yeah. Not like a queen at all.... P.S Please note I didn't mention anywhere in here anything to do with her body shape or indulged in any body shaming. (Except for her hair.) She really is a feral bogan but I hold myself to a higher standard than that to go after looks. I also hope this makes some sense because I'm beyond exhausted.... Fatgirl.

[kienova66]

Since you're interested in history, it would be interesting to have an AU story involving Turnadette with Timothy and Angela as kindertransport children during WWII. You always have great stories! Keep up your writing.

First off - Thank you for the compliment. Really. You’re spectacular. Secondly, you have NO IDEA how excited I was to get this as a prompt. (I may have jumped around at work when I read it.) As someone that teaches history and that has taught about this particuar section of history to multiple grade levels it was great to combine it with something else I love - writing and fanfiction.

For anyone else who is reading this, there are a giant pile of notes at the end of the story regarding the history of the Kindertransport if you’re interested in learning a little more about the reality of 1938 in Europe and Britain. ALSO: Please excuse my German. It is based off a dictionary and google translate. :)

–

“Nehmen Sie Ihre Schwester, gehenSie jetzt,” the words were barked out by the angry looking matron as she tiedcards to each child’s jacket, thrusting the infant into his arms. He looked up,confused as to what was going on as the entire population of the orphanage washastily shuffled out the door and towards the waiting trucks, an anxiouslooking woman with a clipboard standing next to the closest vehicle.

“Sind Familien auf sie warten?”the matron called, shoving a sobbing little girl into the arms of one of themen who was loading the trucks.

“Die meisten von ihnen,” came the clipped answer. “Beeil dich bitte.” He swallowed, hard, worried at thestatement. Would there be someone to meet him at the other end of the journeyhe was about to go on? Would they be able to care for him? Would they treat himwith detached concern with a hint of resentment like the matron of theorphanage, or would they welcome him like the parents that lived in therecesses of his memory, taken just days after his sister was born? He felthimself being lifted into the truck, settling the baby on his lap, holding hertight to him as the truck lurched into motion, heading for the train station.

The next day and a half flew by,filled with trains, adults speaking in rushed German, French, and English. Theolder children talking in hushed whispers, speculating what was happening,catching the rumblings of tension from the adults as they passed through cityafter city before ending up in a dreary train station, rain pattering againstthe windows as they were shuttled off the train, crowded onto the platformwhere uniformed men and women stood with clipboards and pens, rigid in the seaof children and anxious looking adults that lined the opposite end of theplatform.

“Es wird sein in ordnung Angelika,”he whispered, kissing the top of the baby’s head, watching how she lookedaround, unsure in the new surroundings. She scrunched up her nose beforeyawning, cuddling into the worn coat that adorned her brother’s slight frame. Hestrained his ears to listen, unsure of the dialect that the uniformed man wasusing as he bustled about the children, nudging them into a semblance of orderbased on the numbers that were pinned to their coats. He felt exhausted, thepanic from the last few days finally catching up with his young body, the fearof falling asleep to only find that something disastrous had happened havingkept him away for the majority of their journey.

“Timotei Kronecker!” the man yelled just as he felt himselfsway on his feet slightly. Shifting the baby in his arms he raised a hand,allowing himself to be pulled from the crowd and towards the group of adults atthe other end of the platform. “And I’m guessing the little one is AngelikaKronecker,” the man muttered, looking down at his clipboard before tapping thewoman at the typewriter on the shoulder.

“Got both of the Kronecker’s from Wijsmuller-Meijer’s batch in Vienna,” the mansaid, checking their names off his list. The woman turned, her kind eyesscanning over their haggard appearance as she gently reached out and checkedtheir number cards.

“Patrick Turner!” she yelled, glancing around the throng of adults as adark haired man moved towards her. “And Shelagh Mannion!” A blonde woman camefrom the opposite direction, her eyes wide.

“Mr. Turner, if you could show me your identification please,” the womaninstructed, accepting the piece of paper she was passed as the man ran a handthrough his hair, dark eyes looking over the children with care.

“They look exhausted,” he said, frowning.

“I’m afraid their journey was very short notice. Things in Europe areturning south quickly,” the woman replied, checking a few boxes before passingPatrick a paper to sign. “And Miss Mannion, if I could see your identificationtoo please.” The woman pulled the paperwork from her purse, a sob catching inher throat.

“The poor darlings,” she murmured, following Patrick’s actions of signingthe required documents.

“I’m afraid they don’t have much, they’ve both come from an orphanagethat had to be liquidated quickly. All the children are Jewish from that area,”the woman went on, signing a few things of her own before pulling two singlepieces of paper out, one for each child, which she passed to the two adults infront of her.

“Of course,” Patrick mused.

“All right,best to get this sorted. Timotei, you’re going to gowith Mr. Turner,” the woman said, rising from her chair only to crouch downnext to him, her grey skirt clinging to her legs. Timotei cocked his head,unsure of her words as she reached out and gently took Angelika from his arms.“Miss Mannion, you’ll be taking Angelika.” The adults exchanged a glance beforenodding, Shelagh reaching out to take Angelika who was falling asleep, andPatrick reaching for Timotei’s hand.

“It’s all right Tim,” Patrick said, bendingdown until he was eye-level with the boy. “You’re going to be all right. Ipromise.” Gently, he tugged the boy’s hand, leading him out of the crowdedstation with Shelagh not that far behind. “Do you think he understands what’sgoing on?” Patrick questioned, looking back at the blonde woman who wasfollowing him, tears in her eyes as she cuddled the little girl close.

“I don’t think any of them understand,” sheanswered, voice shaking. The air that hit them when they made it to the streetwas cold and damp, the occasional frigid raindrop splattering onto the greypavement. Shelagh shivered, pulling her coat tighter around herself andAngelika as she walked towards the bus stop at the other end of the road,leaving Patrick and Timotei to head in the opposite direction. It took a momentfor the boy to realise his sister was no longer with him, his little heelsdigging into the concrete and his hand frantically trying to rid itself ofPatrick’s grip when he noticed.

“Nien! Nicht ohne meine Schwester!” Timotei yelled, tears springing to his eyes ashe tried to escape, managing to pry himself away from Patrick as he raced downthe road towards Shelagh, grabbing her legs and holding on for dear life. Shelooked shocked, her blue eyes staring down at him with sorrow and trepidation.Patrick raced after him, eyes affright as he reached her side.

“Tim!” hescolded, lungs heaving.

“Nicht ohne meine Schwester,” the boy sobbed, holding tight. “P-please.”It was the only English word he really knew. He had heard it from a man not farfrom the orphanage a few times. The man had disappeared a few weeks before.That was when the matron had started talking about trains and protecting thechildren. He hadn’t understood it. He still didn’t. But he knew it was a way toask for something. A way to beg. He felt the woman’s hand in his hair then,stroking over his head, a cry coming from her throat.

“He doesn’twant to leave his sister,” she muttered, looking over at Patrick, tears slidingdown her cheeks.

“You speakGerman?” Patrick asked, resting his hand atop Shelagh’s on the boy’s head.

“Only alittle,” she confessed. “Enough to know he wants his sister.” Patrick sighed.

“What arewe supposed to do?” he questioned. He had never met the woman before, havingbeen so wrapped up in his studies at medical school that the thought of findingsomeone to spend his life with was far from his mind. He couldn’t remember thelast time he had gone dancing or out with his colleagues for a drink. Hedoubted he would have found this woman regardless, her eyes crystal clear andfilled with more emotion than he thought a person could convey in one look.

“I don’tknow,” she confessed, sniffing slightly.

“Pleasedon’t think me forward Miss, but maybe we could grab some tea. Get the childrensomething to eat and… maybe we will be able to figure something out given alittle time and something in our stomachs?” Patrick offered. Shelagh nodded, ashaking breath leaving her.

“Lassuns essen. Wir gehen zusammen,”Shelagh said, stumbling over the words slightly as she tried to speak to theboy who looked up at her, eyes watering and nose running. He nodded his headagainst her skirt, allowing Patrick to pry him away and wipe his face with ahandkerchief he pulled from his pocket as they moved down the street towards acafe.

Patrickordered them food while Shelagh tried to clean the children up slightly in thebathroom, washing Timotei’s hands and passing a damp cloth over Angelika’sfeatures before changing her nappy with the supplies she had luckily brought inher bag. The soup that awaited them on the table warmed Timotei as he drank it,his eyes drooping with each sip. He desperately wished to sleep, but was scaredif he closed his eyes he would never see Angelika again. The same thing hadhappened with his parents. He had gone to sleep with a loving family, andawoken an orphan with a screaming baby in the next room. Despite his bestefforts he nodded off, listing sideways until he was pressed against Patrick’sarm, his breathing low and even.

“What if welet them see each other once a week?” Patrick offered, wrapping his arm aroundthe boy and pulling him in close. “I live in Poplar but I could come to you ifthe journey is too far with a little one in tow?”

“I’m justin Stepney so it isn’t that far. Maybe we could meet halfway? Or one week oneof us travels, and the next the other? My Godmother is in Poplar so we may bethere on occasion anyway,” Shelagh answered, rocking Angelika as the littlegirl slept. “Can I confess something to you Mr. Turner?” she asked after a beat.

“Of course.And… if we’re going to be seeing one another on a regular basis for the sakeof the little ones  please call mePatrick.”

“Patrick…I’ve no idea how to raise a baby,” she said, straight faced. The table wasengulfed by silence for a moment before he burst out laughing, Shelagh’sgiggles intermingling with the sound.

“I’ve noidea either,” he agreed, rubbing the tears from his eyes as he continued tochuckle, glad that both children were asleep. They exchanged information afterthat, Patrick insisting they split a cab back to their respective districts asthe sky opened up once again, soaking the late afternoon in a frigid downpour.He gathered Timotei into his arms, carrying the boy out to the taxi, watchinghow gingerly Shelagh settled Angelika into her lap once she was inside. Hecouldn’t help but smile, the terror in his heart subsiding at the picture thesleeping children made.

XxX

The firstweek was a near disaster. Timotei cried daily, begging for his sister and,despite Patrick’s attempts at reassurance that they would see her after churchon Sunday, the little boy’s language barrier made it near impossible for him tounderstand. It wasn’t until the boy saw his sister again, perched on Shelagh’ship on the steps of the church, that he calmed, racing up the concrete until hecould grab onto the woman, reaching for the giggling baby girl instantly.

“He’s beeninconsolable,” Patrick confessed, eyes rimmed in dark circles as he traversedthe entryway of the parish until he was standing next to the younger woman. Shesmiled up at him, her own eyes encircled in the red of an exhausted parent.“How has Angela been?” Shelagh laughed, shaking her head.

“Angelika,”she said, grinning up at him. “Although, I do admit, Angela is more to my taste.”She knelt down, passing the girl to her brother carefully before standingagain. “She’s been lovely. If only she would sleep through the night. Or formore than two hours at a time. I thought a child of her age would have a moreregular sleep schedule by now. Although, I’m sure the upset of the journey andleaving her home has been a nasty shock.” Patrick nodded, leaning against theentryway as Timotei cuddled Angelika.

“I’vestarted calling him Tim,” he mused. “Every time I try to say his name, it endsup coming out Timothy. I thought maybe a nickname would be better.” Shelaghchuckled, nodding, mirroring his position as she stifled a yawn behind herhand.

“I wouldn’tgive her up for anything. Especially with the things I’ve been hearing aboutthe Germans but… this will get easier, won’t it?” she whispered, looking upat Patrick.

“It will.In time,” he assured her.

XxX

The springand summer flew by, things easing until there was a regular schedule for bothadults and their respective charges. Timotei quickly picked up enough Englishto communicate, adapting to being called Timothy with startling clarity as soonas he realised he wasn’t going to lose his baby sister in the days they spentapart. Patrick was kind to him, bought him new clothes and gave him his ownroom and his own bed. He had been used to sharing with another boy at theorphanage and sometimes Angelika to boot, but he revelled in the freedom ofbeing able to move in his sleep.

MissMannion quickly became ‘Auntie Shelagh,’ the boy taking to her as much as hehad to Patrick after the initial shock wore off. She doted on him, sneaking himsweets when Patrick wasn’t looking during their weekly outings, running aroundthe park with him whenever he asked. Angelika giggled constantly, learning totoddle after the adults and her brother with clumsy steps.  

September came quickly, the adults in Poplargrowing grim and frightened as the radio boomed out a message from a manTimothy didn’t know, the words “Britain is at war with Germany” echoing aroundthe community. He didn’t understand what it meant. He tried asking, but Patricknever explained, his own expression dimming when he received a letter in thepost one morning. The man picked up the phone, calling a number and waiting.

“I know itisn’t Sunday but… I need to speak with you. I’ve a letter from the ArmedServices Act…”  

In lessthan an hour the boy found himself playing with Angelika in the garden of aconvent, a gentle looking nun watching over them and crawling about on thegrass with Angelika when she was pulled down by the girl with littlehesitation, a laugh echoing out of the woman’s lungs. Shelagh had placed a handon the woman’s arm before following Patrick into the building.

“You’vebeen conscripted?” Shelagh asked once she closed the door to the office theyhad been leant by her God mother, Sister Julienne. Patrick nodded, face grim ashe held the letter out to her.

“I’m notsure how quickly they’ll ask me to go. I know I’m going to pass the medical…and will probably be placed in the medical corps because I’m a physician but…what am I to do with Tim? I know it is a lot to ask Shelagh. More than I shouldever wish to have to ask you. But I was wondering –”

“Patrick,you know I’ll take him in a heartbeat,” Shelagh answered, grabbing his hand. “Ijust… I don’t know if they’re going to let me. Single foster parents… we’rerestricted to one child. I don’t know if they will let me and –”

“Let’s getmarried.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think better aboutthem. Shelagh stared, eyes wide. He had been thinking about asking if he couldcourt the woman for a while, her gentle yet fiery nature complimenting his ownin a way he never thought possible. The way she cared for Angelika and Timalike, melted his heart, his pulse pounding every time he thought of her intheir time apart. Sundays, a day he had always dreaded, attending church onrote rather than because of actual devotion, had quickly become the day helooked forward to each week, knowing that he would see the woman across fromhim for a few hours.

“Are… areyou sure? We can try and look for another way if –” she stumbled, fidgetingwith her hands against the fabric of her skirt.

“I’m sure.I… I’ve been meaning to ask for weeks if… if you would like to see oneanother… more. For more than just the children getting to see each other. Astwo people that could… well… fall in love,” he rambled, suddenly nervous.Patrick felt his palms start to sweat, desperately trying to keep himself fromrubbing the back of his neck.

“You… youthink you could… love me?” The words sounded so shocked and unsure that itnearly broke him.

“I alreadyknow that I do,” he replied, crossing the few inches between them until hecould seize her hands in his own, holding them close to his heart. “I think Istarted falling in love with you the moment you told me you had no idea how toraise a baby. You were so pure and honest in that moment Shelagh. I had nochance of not loving you.” She responded by leaning up to kiss him, standing onher toes until their lips met.

XxX

He shippedout mere weeks after they married, holding her tight to him as long as possiblebefore pulling back to drop kisses on the foreheads of both children.

Hecherished the letters Shelagh sent, even as they broke his heart. Angelika, whoresponded to Angela more than her initial given name, had cried for him everynight for a month. Timothy had become subdued at home even as he attendedschool, learning English and mathematics with gusto.

The wardragged on. For nearly five years he found himself trudging through Europe,only allowed on leave every six months or so to go home and see his littlefamily. Shelagh and the children spent the majority of the war in Scotland on afarm owned by her cousins, safe from the constant threat of Nazi invasion andbombings that struck London. Every time he returned to the mainland he wantednothing more than to run back to the boat and return to Britain, shaking in hissleep at night in Italy as bombs rained down, as casualties piled into themedical tents.

When 1945hit and the call came that the war was over he fell to his knees and prayed,sobbing into the dirt ground of the hospital tent.

Shelagh andthe children were waiting for him at the docks when his boat finally landed inEngland two months after the war came to its official conclusion. She had broughtthe children back to London at the start of 1945 once the worst of the Nazithreat was over. She stood on the wooden pier, skirt blowing in the wind andhighlighting the swollen belly she had, a product of his last leave fromservice two months before Christmas. Timothy, now twelve, stood nearly as tallas his adoptive mother, looking more like Patrick than the man had thought waspossible. Angela, a bouncing six year old, raced towards him the minute hisfeet left the gangplank, throwing herself in his arms with a scream of “DADDY!”

Shelagh wason him next, peppering his face with kisses and pressing as close as her stomachwould allow.

“You’ve gotthem right? You’re discharged? They can’t take you back?” she rushed, lettingout a sob when Patrick pressed the discharge papers into her waiting hand.Timothy hugged his father from the other side, a sigh escaping the boy.

“You needto take care of Mum, I was worried I would be delivering a baby myself beforeyou got back. Sister Julienne would have been so cross if that was myintroduction to human anatomy,” Timothy mumbled, causing both of the adults tolaugh. He took his sister’s hand, leading her down the docks and towards thestreet.

“Well youwon’t have to wait long,” Shelagh whispered as Patrick wrapped an arm aroundher shoulders, starting to guide her back towards their flat. He raised aneyebrow, looking down at the woman he never would have imagined to be his wifehad anyone asked him before the war. Had he never been listening to the radiothe night foster parents were called for; had he never applied; had he neverwanted to keep the children who now walked in front of him happy and togetheras much as possible, he never would have gotten the life he now found himselfin.

“Why’sthat?” he asked, revelling in the weak British sunlight that streamed throughthe streets of Poplar as they walked. She grinned up at him and it was onlythen that he noticed the slight perspiration at her hairline, her eyesbetraying the pain she was in.

“I’ve beenhaving contractions for the last few hours.”

—-

AUTHOR’S NOTES

Quick notes regarding the historythis story is based around (mainly because I’m a history teacher and was soexcited to get this as a prompt because I could use my fandom love AND myhistory love in the same thing)

I took a few liberties with thisbecause of the way my writing muse wanted me to go. First let me apologise forchanging Tim and Angela’s names/spelling of them but chances are theAnglo-spelling of their names would not be common among Austrian-Jewish familiesin the 30’s.

Single parent homes were NOTapproved for members of the Kindertransport in 1938/1939. It was preferable forchildren to be placed with young/middle aged couples or elderly couples duringthis transition as long as they fit the requirements for being foster parentsfor the duration of the unrest in Europe. Although many children had decenthomes (500 applications were put in during the first call out for parents) manydid not have a safe new life in Britain as the reason for volunteer families tooffer up their homes was never taken into account. (Each child was given £50for their eventual return trip which often never occurred).

The first transport began on December 1, 1938from Berlin to England and the last Kindertransport left from the Netherlandson May 14, 1940. However, the last transport from Germany left on September 1,1939 – the same day that Germany invaded Poland. World War II was declared onSeptember 3, 1939 between Britain/France (and quickly the commonwealth) againstGermany. The National Service (Armed Forced) Act was declared the same day,calling for all fit men from ages 18-41 to be conscripted into service for theBritish military.

Geertruida Wijsmuller-Meijer was credited with helping to save over10,000 children through the Kindertransports. She fought with Adolf Eichmann,the man who would later go on to organize the transportation of the Jewishpeople to concentration camps, particularly Auschwitz. He first told her thatshe could have no children for the program, and then gave her 600 in one day,expecting that she would not be able to have them transported in his short timelimit. Geertruida managed to have all 600 transported out of Austria to GreatBritain and The Hague beginning December 10, 1938. Following this mass export of children inDecember of 1938, she continued to transport Jewish children out of Germanyseveral times a week until the invasion of the Netherlands and the closure ofEuropean borders at the outbreak of World War II.

THANKS FOR READING!

[abdlbdsmstories]

Wet beds and seaside trips

This story contains male humiliation and nappies. 

"Well done baby. You've been a big boy there. Come on then, it's time for your bedtime. Let's get you ready for bed." Tina commented.

As I got up from the table, I got a terrible cramp in my stomach. It doubled me over the table in pain. I got up and trudged slowly behind the 2 women. Every step I took hurt with pain and became shorter and shorter until I stopped and let out a disgustingly wet, noisy fart alerting the attention of the 2 women.

   "You dirty little boy. That's disgusting. Are you doing what I think you are doing? You are aren't you." Tina asked me.

I was stopped in my tracks by another fart escaping my backside before disaster struck. The next fart was wet and messy. A stream of diarrhoea left my backside and filled my nappy. I squatted down and forced the poop out that I could no longer hold. I cried and cried as I pushed 3 large loads into the nappy, filling it completely, all over my backside and my balls to the point of flooding.

   "Quick, get outside now. QUICKLY." Tina shouted at me.

She led off along with Emma into the kitchen and outside where I carefully followed waddling slowly to try to avoid rubbing pooh on my thighs. I got outside where Tina and Emma were waiting for me laughing and mocking me.

   "Well, well, well a good job we did put you back in nappies. I was going to let you off further punishment but you've just earned yourself another 24hrs in nappys. Wait there whilst I get a bag for your shitty nappy." Tina told me, I couldn't believe what had just happened. I knew this had something to do with the thing Emma had shoved in my ass. Tina went off into the kitchen whilst Emma chatted to me,

   "Ha ha ha. You big baby. That suppository I shoved in your ass worked beautifully. Just think another full day in nappys for you and guess where we are going.... to the beach!"

I couldn't believe the words I was hearing as I stood there my fully shitty nappy starting to sag between the legs. Tina came back with a black bag and was on her mobile phone chatting away. She put her phone down and threw the bag at me,

   "Take your nappy off and put it in the bag. Then go and stand by the wall. That was my friend Sam who works at the hospital, she's going to bring a few presents round for you later on."

I put the bag on the floor and contemplated which way was best to remove the messy nappy. I undid one side of tapes and immediately the messy nappy slumped to my feet, splattering at my feet. I looked down at myself to see my cock and balls covered in shit. I turned back over my shoulder to see my buttocks completely covered in shit as well. It was disgusting and wet. The first time I had shit myself since I was 12 years old. I waddled over to the wall and stood with my hands on my head only to hit by a ice cold blast of water. Tina had pointed the hose pipe in my direction and was blasting the shit of my ass and legs. She shouted for me to turn around and the power of the water hitting my cock winded me completely. Once she was satisfied I was all clean she stopped and I shivered. I was frozen cold from the water and this reflected in my cock going back inside my body.

   "There you go baby boy, all nice and clean. Get back inside, get a nappy out of the bag and ask Emma to nappy you." She ordered me.

I got back on all fours instinctively and crawled back inside through the kitchen and into the front room towards the bag of nappys. I heistantly pulled one out and turned around to see Emma standing menacingly above me. She was pointing her camera phone at me,

   "Go on then baby boy, tell the camera what you want?"

   "Em..Emma will you nappy me please?" I muttered to her, trying to avoid the gaze of the camera.

   "Of course I will baby, lie on your back and I will do it." She replied.

I laid on my back, whilst she finished filming my predicament they she continued on with the nappying. She unfurled the nappy, lifted my legs and placed it underneath then started to place it over my cock. I was again erect at this time, much to her amusement so she had a little fumble with it. She slowly stroked, leaning over me giving me a glimpse of her amazing boobs, she placed her lips about an inch from mine and stopped,

   "Don't even think about cumming you naughty boy. You would love to kiss me wouldn't you! I've seen you get all excited whenever i'm around little boy. You will never get the chance to fuck me." She whispered in my ear, grabbing my balls tightly making me yelp in pain. She stopped, taped the nappy over my waist and patted the front of it.

   "Is he all sorted now?" Tina came back into the room and asked.

   "Yeah baby is ready for bed." Emma replied.

   "Go and make us all a cup of tea, then go to your room." Tina told me.

I went into the kitchen and prepared to make the tea. Next to the kettle was Tina and Emmas cup and a babys sippy cup,, which I assumed was mine. They were taking this whole baby thing so seriously, I knew I was in trouble. I quickly made the tea hoping to get upstiars and out of the way of the two women. I went back into the front room where the women were chatting and handed them there cups.

   "Well done baby boy you found your sippy cup. Go up to your room. Do not put any clothes on." Tina said to me.

I walked  up the stairs, my nappy crinkling with every step I took much to the amusement of Emma. On entering my room, I at down on my bed and went on my laptop and chatted to a few friends and played a bit of Call of Duty on my xbox. Babyishly, I drank my tea from my sippy cup, it wasn't as bad as I thought, kind of weird mind. About an hour or so into playing COD I needed a wee. I pondered whether or not I could sneak across the hallway and go to the toilet but I imagined the repercussions would be bad so I concentrated and as before slowly drip after drip left my penis into my nappy before a tidal wave flooded my nappy. I stood up, spreading my legs and watched as golden piss trickled down both my legs and soaking into the carpet. Not wanting to get my bed wet, I resorted to sitting on a plastic bag on my bed. From downstairs I could hear a knock at the door and from the chatter I heard it was Tina's friend, Sam.

   "Baby boy. Come down stairs please." Tina shouted from downstairs.

I turned my xbox off and stood up. The thought of another person seeing me in a nappy, a wet nappy played heavily on my mind. I stood at the top of the stairs for about a minute contemplating whether or not to go down the stairs. I slowly trudged down each step, halfway down the stairs becoming visible to the 3 women who were looking straight me. I saw Sam standing up in the middle of the room, in her nurses outfit looking amazing. She was mid 30s, about 6ft tall, long flowing blond hair, an amazing hour glass figure. She smiled as I came into view and hit the bottom of the stairs.

   "Hello Mr. My, my don't you look just so cute. Ahhh you've even wet your nappy." She said in a babyish tone.

   "Hi Sam." Was all I could meekly reply.

   "Come lie down on the floor and I'll show Tina and Emma a few tips on changing and nappying you." She replied.

I looked at Tina and Emma hoping for some form of redemption and to not have to endure the humiliation of a stranger nappying me. They said nothing, merely smiling and pointing at the floor. I slowly walked towards the mirror of the room and laid down on my back closing my eyes. Sam placed her hand on the front of my soaking wet nappy and ripped off the tapes, exposing my wet cock and balls to the fresh air.

   "Hmmm, looks like he likes this." She commented, laughing with the other girls.

She pulled the wet nappy from under my backside, and threw it to one side. She proceeded to grab my cock and wipe it down with a baby wipe.

   "Make sure you wipe him down all over his penis and backside thoroughly so he doesn't get a rash." She instructed to Tina and Emma

Then she lifted my legs in the air and applied some cream to my backside and sprinkled powder over my backside and penis.

   "The cream will help prevent him getting a rash, the powder will stop him itching and keep his skin soft. Plus it makes him smell more babyish. Now here's what I got from the hospital. It's a proper adults nappy, a lot better then those baby things, just not quite as cute."

She again lifted my legs in the air and from the bag next to me pulled out the biggest nappy I had ever seen. She unfurled it, slipped it under my ass and pulled my legs down, spread apart over it.

   "These are Tena Slip Maxi nappys. There's a whole bag for you. There quite thick and bulky but we can make them even bulkier. These are called booster pads. They will help absorb more piss especially at night time and on long journeys. You just lay them inside the nappy and its sorted."

Sam was demonstrating to the girls. She slipped 2 of the boosters into the nappy then proceeded to tape the bulky thing over my penis. The nappy spread my legs considerably, and felt so bulky and irritating between my legs. She patted the front, tucking in a few bits here and there and stopped.

   "That's a lot better is it not? Now one last trick I have for you, to make it even bulkier, you can rip a few strips on the front of the nappy, then put another nappy over the top. This would be particular useful on a long journey say. Just don't expect too much walking, it could be quite difficult." She commented to the girls, all 3 of them laughing. I just lay there, hoping it was all a bad dream which it most definitely wasn't. She put her hands out to help me to my feet and as she pulled me up she admired her work, checking out my padded backside. The nappy was bulky, my legs were spread an inch or 2 apart, the bulk between them rubbing on my thighs. I just stood there whilst the women chatted.

   "How come you know so much about this stuff, Sam?" Emma asked.

   "Well I used to have this boyfriend who was into this whole scene called ABDL. He used to love wearing nappys and every once in awhile I would change him and play games with him, but he took it far too serious and kinda creeped me out do we split. But yeah, I know alot about adults and nappys. Plus we have a few patients at work who wear nappys from time to time so I've changed plenty. Sam replied.

   "WE've certainly learnt a thing or two today. Thanks Sam, what do you have to say baby boy?" Emma said to me.

   "Thank you Sam." I weakly replied, bowing my head in shame.

   "Ahh its ok baby." Sam said to me, lifting my chin up and kissing my cheek.

   "Back upstairs baby boy, your night is over. See you in the morning." Tina ordered me.

[ablackchicnolalife]

Most of you have to wait until Mardi Gras Day, Super Sunday, Saint Joseph’s Day and Night, Secondline parades and the New Orleans Jazz Festival to experience the beautiful sights and sounds of the New Orleans Black Masking Indians. But year-round, I am surrounded by native New Orleanians who ensure our treasured culture and tradition survive. With the recent cancellation of Super Sunday and the Secondline, I thought it was a great time to share my experience of growing up in New Orleans witnessed the creation, birth, and celebration of the New Orleans Black Masking Indians. Year after year suits are created depicting a well-thought-out story of each Indian. 

There’s a story within the Indian Suit

Suit designed and created by Wesley “Soup” Bickham

  https://nolachic.blog/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/indian.mp4

  Black Masking Indians

Some of you may wonder why I call them “Black Masking Indians” instead of Mardi Gras Indians, and here’s why. At one time and by no choice of there own, they were called Mardi Gras Indians to participate in the Mardi Gras festivities. That’s something to talk about all by itself. Have you ever saw a “Mardi Gras Indian” join in a parade? Have you seen a “Mardi Gras Indian” walk the route of the floats or throw beads? I’m sure you will answer NO unless it was in the early 1900 when they snuck in the procession in protest against segregation and to show off their beautiful suits. But years before that, Black New Orleanians developed their own style of celebrating Mardi Gras, and most of the celebrating took place in Congo Square in Treme. The tradition started in honor of native Indians who assisted slaves in escaping the tyranny of slavery and accepted them as their own. Most Black New Orleanians have Native Indian blood running through their veins, because of this. We are all part of some Indian Tribe or Gang in one way or another.

CoronaVirus and Super Sunday

Before I go into my story, let me say this I’m quite sure there will be an impromptu Super Sunday of a smaller scale. The Black Masking Indians and the people of New Orleans will not allow the virus to stop them from paying homage to what may be over a century-long tradition. Urban New Orleans Natives, NOLA locals who genuinely know what it means to love New Orleans. Tourists, and even a few those we refer to as transplants which moved here only to change the black urban neighborhoods, all will be out celebrating our tradition as we always have. Native New Orleanians do not need the permission of the city to celebrate our culture, traditions, our lives. Celebrations of this nature give us the necessary fuel to work mediocre tourism jobs. Coming together in honor of our ancestors supplies our hearts and soul with joy.

On any given day in any New Orleans neighborhood, especially in Black Urban Community. It can be a regular Thursday, and you will see and hear the locals parading in the streets with a full brass band leading the way. The city canceled the roadblocks and the option for us to congregate in the streets, but Super Sunday and St. Joseph’s Day nor St. Joseph’s Night is not canceled as far as it goes with the people. My thinking it will not be as big, Tribes/Gangs will more than likely perform their ceremonies in their own Wards at a park. Possibly, walking to nearby Wards to honor the traditions of Battle of the needle and thread. Part of the tradition and culture involves shall I say showing off their suits, which Black Masking Indian Tribe is the prettiest, meaning the suit is everything from beautifully made, and it has an incredibly creative story. Loyalty to the tradition followed by all of the love and time it took to create the suit must be seen on the streets of New Orleans, especially by other Tribes/Gangs. You will hear Native New Orleanians compliment Indians by saying, “You know you pretty!” followed by the spreading of eagle-like arms and the proud strut of a peacock.

Plus, it’s outdoors! And people are walking around. It’s not like they are boarding a parade float inside of Mardi Gras World, sharing a small space with others. Tribes/Gangs are with each other during ceremonies, and for the most part, they are moving around dancing and singing. They actually take it to the streets. Its a phenomenon everyone in the world should see. If you join in on the celebration, make sure you have your hand sanitizer, give a squeeze to all who want to shake your hand and keep it moving.

I believe if we keep the celebration more like a family reunion or neighborhood block party at the parks in our Wards, it will keep the crowds small and hopefully lessen the risk for exposure. I feel that St. Patrick’s Day celebrations should break up the canceled celebrations in this manner as well. Pack up the green beer, throws and etc. and park a couple floats outside bars and parks or use the floats like a party bus and roll thru the city with a small krewe. There are many options to celebrate our cultures and traditions without the need for a huge grand affair. Scale it down and be safe and be well!

My Family

My great-grandfather was an African and Choctaw Indian by way of Mississippi. His name was James Shelton, but we called him “Lil Papa” for two reasons; one he was much shorter than his wife my great grandmother “Alma Shelton” Big Momo and my grandfather whose name was James as well, “James Hollins” was “Big Papa” because he was big and tall. Lil Papa was a short man, maybe 5’6 with smoothest dark chocolate skin, and what I thought was grey-blue eyes then, but now I believe he had cataracts. He was bald for the most part, with the exception of the short wavy hair he covered with dress hat all the time. I loved my papa and treasured the time spent out in Kenner with him and Big Momo out in Kenner. He worked long, long hard hours on the railroad, and even though he was bone-tired, he would sit in his chair after work with us at his feet listening to him chant in his native tongue. He didn’t tell many stories of his life, possibly because he was often on the run from slave catchers, but he taught us about surviving off the land and to appreciate it. Their backyard was mostly a garden, two huge pecan trees, one held a tire swing, a peach tree, a banana tree, a fig tree, and strawberries were free for our picking and eating. We always went home with a bag of goodies from the yard. Oh, they had a small chicken coop. I would find out years later that those cute little chicks I used to pet were possibly my dinner when I visited… We were shown how to spot holes in the ground were the crawfish lived. We would stand over the hole with a string with a piece of fat on it, trying to temp the crawfish to bite. Sometimes I would catch and drop em because I was afraid of them.

My Lil Papa and Big Momo never dressed as Indians or participated in the traditions, possibly because of work and church. It would take for my Mama to take me around relatives and out into the city to experience the cultures in the traditions of the Black Masking Indians.

Love at first sight

My first memory of seeing the Indians was in the late early 80s, I had to be about 7 years old when my Mama would take us to visit family and friends, and more than often, there would be men gathering in a room sewing, drinking, and singing. I would peek behind the beaded curtain with my big brown eyes laid on the colorful rhinestones, gemstones, and feathers. The shiny bling all but called my name. I used to hope one of them would drop anything so that I can claim as mine. Unlike the men, women, and all the girls in my family, I did not take to sewing. I barely know how to sew on hand to this day, but I knew exactly what I would do if I had some bling and scraps of satin material. After a few minutes of eyeballing their supplies, one of the kids would find me and attempt to bust me out. You gonna get in trouble, because I’m going to tell… “Oooh, you looking in the Grownup Room.” Nothing much happened to me, I was a good girl. Plus, I learned early in life that all it takes is for a child to be respectful and inquisitive. Doing so opened so many learning opportunities for me at a young age. Still, quite a few of those tella tell kids actually pulled the beaded curtain open so that I may enter the room to be gifted with leftover scraps and jewels. But I can hear their big mouths now, “Dee, you not supposed to be in the grownup’s business.

St. Joseph’s Day 1996 in Hollygrove

St. Joseph’s Day 1996

I can kind of remember seeing the Indians out on Mardi Gras as a young girl, but my first up close and personal experience was that following Spring. We were living in the 17th Ward, Hollygrove, Mid City, or what is now known as Carrollton in the early 80s around. My Mama woke us up and told us to put our slippers and robes on to come outside to see the Indians. I thought she and the other adults partied a little too hard because it was dark out. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but these adults were so excited to see the Indians, and they wanted the children to come along. I didn’t know what was up and I was terrified. I had no choice but to listen to my Mama. So, there I sat on the porch with until we were told to “Take to the streets.” It was St. Joseph’s Night and days prior classmates spoke tales of Indians running around the city with hatchets to scalp people with good hair so that they could make long braided wigs to wear for ceremonies. I imagined people lying in the streets with their brains showing due to the scalping. For the first time in my life, I was relieved to have short nappy hair. I was a ‘Passover” NO Indian wanted my hair, and I was okay with that. I was a shy child and typically went along with what the adults told me to do, so there I stood on the porch with my Mama, Auntie, Uncle, sister and a few cousins awaiting the sight of the sounds I heard chanting in the wind. My Mama appeared excited and lively, so I found comfort in that, and my fear went away. The Indians appeared, and my eyes lit up as if I saw Santa Claus. My family members flew off the porch and joined in the dancing and singing with the Indians. I was super shy and but I managed to I looked on smiling. I could not understand a word they sung or the meaning of “IKO IKO,” but a sense of pride filled my young heart. The sun finally made its way to give some light to the new day. That’s when the magic happened, my eyes lit up from glimmer of bling that I recognized from the men behind the beaded curtain before it made its way unto the suit creating the most beautiful artwork I ever. The beautiful feathers that stood up, signifying royalty, strength, and freedom waved and bobbed as they pounded their feet unto the ground, and that’s when it hit me. Yes, the culture had pulled me in. I not only danced, but I sang and clapped my hands, becoming one with my people as we celebrate our heritage.

  Beads, Feathers, Love, and Tears

Over the years, I would wish I could participate in the tradition, but I have found my place within the culture. I didn’t have a direct legacy to it due to none of the men in my immediate family participating in Masking. I guess I could have joined a gang that my cousins and friends belonged to, but I never was into the Social Club thing, not even in college. My love for the culture was more than enough for me, but I’m blessed to live in a community where men still gather together throughout the week to assist each other with their suits as they fill their bellies with delicious red beans and rice and cold beers. 

  I grew up with the understanding that “Masking” and the sewing was only done by the men, and I never questioned how the Queen’s and child’s suits were made. Actually, it was always the men I saw gathering to sew, cook, and perform the ceremonies. To this day, well in my circle, the women are a support to the men. Most of the time, when the sewing is being done, or during Indian Practice, the women do their own thing and sometimes help out with sewing. But over the years, I would learn that there are many women who “Kill em dead with the needle and thread.” I have been asked several times if I wanted to Mask, and who knows I just may one day. But for now, I’m content with being an heir of the royal family. 

  The love and passion for continuing the Black Masking culture run so deep into the souls of those who continue it. I found myself becoming emotional hearing the stories of the Black Masking Indians to this day.  I was visiting a friend who was in the final stage of putting his suit together. As we spoke, the look of death came over his face as he searched his packed Indian Suit closet for a picture frame that contains an image of him in the National Geographic Magazine in the late 80s. He told me he did not have his image under “Copyright or Trademark.” It took for someone to tell him that his beautiful pink feathered suit was captured by a professional photographer who he would find was paid thousands. He attempted to sue, but there’s this thing about being in public. Generally, people do not have a reasonable expectation of privacy for anything they do in public, and this was the case for him and others. Needless to say, even though he didn’t get to see a few coins hit his bank account, he felt proud to be in the National Geographic. To add insult to injury, the picture only describes the person as a nameless Mardi Gras Indian.  He has gone on to travel all over the world to show off his suits as well.

It was just my luck to have met and spoken with one of the founders of The Black Men of Labor and Black Masking Indian Cultural Gatekeepers Fred Johnson at my neighbor’s house. I was pressured into introducing myself at midnight on Mardi Gras Eve. The men and women I sat in the kitchen with took turns telling me, “The man you need to talk to has been sitting in the living room all evening and you back here whining about an interview and the best person to talk to is him.” Before I had a chance to introduce myself, they basically gave me his resume, and that made me nervous. He ran this, and that spoke to hundreds if not thousands about the culture and interviewed with noted journalists. and here I was “The NOLA Chic” walking into the living room in my lounging attire and a wrapped head sounding straight like a New Orleans girl; “Excuse me, I’m so sorry to bother you, but my friends said you are the man of all things Black New Orleans Culture.” It actually worked lol. Fred is appeared to be a laid back, highly intelligent, well-spoken, passionate man, with beautiful features, traits, and characteristics of a New Orleans Black Indian.

I would find out that he tries his best to makes a visit as many of the Tribes/Gangs the weekend of Mardi Gras to offer support and words of wisdom. He told me that things are in the works to protect the Black Masking Indians, along with some really great facts about the Black Masking culture and history.

The Black Men of Labor is a New Orleans Social and Pleasure Club is made up of black working men who pay homage to the black men who work. The theme of the BMOL is always to keep the traditional music on the streets. Fred Johnson told Off Beat Magazine in New Orleans, “No matter what we do, the theme of the parade is always going to be based on the musicians wearing black and white and playing traditional brass band music.

https://r.search.yahoo.com/_ylt=AwrE19ZvwW1exRQATpdXNyoA;_ylu=X3oDMTEyOGI4bGNnBGNvbG8DYmYxBHBvcwMxBHZ0aWQDQjg3NDZfMQRzZWMDc3I-/RV=2/RE=1584280048/RO=10/RU=https%3a%2f%2fwww.facebook.com%2fBMOLINC%2f/RK=2/RS=mpDWGdm2JGM0YJ1QJkQ_.dRoTDg-

One being the birth of birth, the Mardi Gras Indian Council, which serves as a base to document, teach about the masking culture, teach the art of sewing and be a place for any and all things tribes might need to remain successful. There’s also the option of trademarking your image, which seems like a bunch of B.S. because of the process. The Indian would have to send in pictures his/her complete suit to the department along with fees before Mardi Gras. It is known that Indians are working on their suits up to the eve of Mardi Gras. And they are all very secretive with their suit before Mardi Gras Day. As I mentioned, I was treated like a spy and was sternly told NOT to post or show anything, not even a bead until after Mardi Gras, and I did. And this goes for anyone outside of their Tribe/Gang even parade dates, times and routes are never published in advance, although they do tend to gather in the same areas every year.

Black Masking along with other Black New Orleans legacies that are affected by Cultural appropriation and gentrification in New Orleans. The very thing that lifts the spirit and solidifies family is used by others to make a dollar off the talent of others. It’s a set up by the tourism and entertainment industry to make big bucks off the blood, love, and suffering of a people. So, it’s doubtful that the Indians can get their images protected within the timeline given. Unlike Mardi Gras Krewes, such as Rex, whose krewes are made up of wealthy white people who are able to tap into sponsors. Black Masking Indians go broke for the love of the culture. It’s also labor-intensive and takes away precious time from their family members and friends.

Copyright is a property right. Under the Federal Copyright Act of 1976, photographs are protected by copyright from the moment of creation. According to the U.S. Copyright Office, the owner of the “work” is generally the photographer or, in certain situations, the employer of the photographer.

Under U.S. law, copyright in a photograph is the property of the person who presses the shutter on the camera — not the person who owns the camera, and not even the person in the photo. http://www.technologylawsource.com › articles › intellectual-property-1 › wh.

    Following the Renegades

My move back home allowed me to enter into a sacred space of our Black Masking Indian tradition. I was able to witness the century-long ritual unfold right before my eyes over the past year. I was granted the opportunity to experience it all from the inside, and it was life-changing. But, let me tell you they fed me with a baby spoon, but I was finally was able to sit with the men throughout the year to thread, beads, gemstone, rhinestones, satin, and feathers all come to life, transforming them into a real New Orleans Black Masking Indian. Much hasn’t changed since I was the inquisitive little girl peeking through the beaded curtain, but I saunter in now and let the beads embrace my frame as they thread needles snd sew on beads. Being a grown woman has gifted me with the gift gab with men, and a graceful entrance beats pretending to be a fly on the wall. I learned that it was better to be seen because a fly will eventually get to buzzing in their ears and squatted out the room.

My neighbor, who is also my friend and great-cousin, finally suited up after years of sitting out. Over the year, both designed and made Indian suits for other Indians and participated in the traditional celebrations. Still, it had been nearly a decade since they took to the streets themselves. Providing this service to people left them without a position within a tribe. Therefore, both decided to Masked as “Renegade” not as in renegade as in abandoning the tribe but not identifying as part of an exclusive tribe/gang and accepted by all. This is often done when the Big Chief of the Tribe/Gang has passed away, and they disband for lack of leadership or the effects of gentrification have displaced the members. When I asked my friend if he felt sad about not being apart of a gang, he told me, “Even if I don’t have the whole nine, I still have to go.” All it takes is one strong person to preserve and protect the culture.

This past year I was able to finally fulfilled my childhood wish of filling my hands with the shiny beads, gems, and rhinestones that seemed to hold magic when picked up and sewn on by the men I admired as a child. For some reason, I would pick them up and watch them glitter as let them fall back into their assigned container when they weren’t looking.  I ran my hands through soft feathers and tickled a neck or two with its tips. I once placed a long peacock feather in the back of my hair and pretended to be an Indian Girl. They were okay with my playful nature, but all the moment I asked one too many questions I was sent out of the Lion’s Den off to be with the Lioness in the kitchen. Like OMG, the plan was for me to get a story, not play with feathers and beads. Even being in the presence of the men while they were sewing made me feel proud of them.

Stacy’s Suit

  Field Trip to Mardi Gras World

One of my favorite memories over the past year was going on what I called a “field trips” to the “Bead and Fabric Store.” It put the cherry on top of my experience. I rode in an old school Chevy up the back streets of New Orleans to Jefferson Parish as they all did for years. My friend told me stories about taking this route instead of the highway over the years, because of the Jefferson Parish Police would stop them for no reason, some times trashing their Indian suits and newly brought materials. There’s a store in New Orleans, but more often than not, the Black Masking Indians and Mardi Gras krewes would drive out to family-owned Mardi Gras Store in Metairie due to their vast selection. I felt like I was in the land of Mardi Gras or Throw Me Something, Mister Central! I had any and all things Mardi Gras merchandise right before my eyes. Mardi Gras umbrella’s, sequin hats, garters, bikinis, fleur de Lis earrings, iron-on patches, flashing beads, Moon pies into my cart; there wasn’t anything that Mardi Gras store didn’t carry. The walls and aisles were filled with a full variety of beads, blinged-out crowns, stacks of extravagant fabrics, bins of shiny rhinestones, and more.

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10216549862638571&id=1218678471

Our field trip to the store made me appreciate all the Tribes, Krewes, and Organizations that participate in Mardi Gras and Secondlines. It’s super expensive to participate in these events. The feathers, beads, costumes, throws, and all are all for the love of the culture. To be honest, I became angry thinking about all the beads that end up in our sewer system year after year. These beads not only wreak havoc on the environment, but it’s literally a waste, money down the drain for the city, and the Krewes that brought them.

https://nolachic.blog/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/mardigrassore.mp4

  Indian Practice

I’m trying to find the words to describe what Indian Practice is as well as the feeling that will swell up in your heart and soul as the men beat on tambourines and drums, sing/chant and dance. The Indians dance and sing traditional songs as well as drink and eat. Most are held on Sundays up until the Sunday before Mardi Gras Day. Sometimes I would go to Indian Practice with my neighbors at a local bar called First Carol’s with my neighbors, my extended family. Indian Practice is usually held at a neighborhood bar, and for us, that would be First Stop Last Stop or as well call it “Carol’s” the owners’ name. Carol’s is a small bar on the corner of Pauger St and Marias Stknown for strong cheap drinks, even stronger friendships, and the tasty free food she offers during happy hour. We would actually meet up here on Mardi Gras morning along with other Indians Tribes/Gangs.

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1858348670843552&id=100000053110158

Happy Mardi Gras

And now that Mardi Gras has come and gone, I can share my Black Masking Indian Experience with all of you. As I mentioned moving back home was a sacrifice and caused me financial difficulty, but I never been happier. I feel complete in my spirit, and hope feels an opportunity away. To love New Orleans, you have to embrace the ugly that comes with it, and for me, that is being broke, but even when I feel down and out, New Orleans finds a way to pick me up. When these days hit, all I have to do is sit on my porch or knock on a neighbor’s door.

For The Culture

I’m proud to know that there are people out there who will stand firm for the black culture and traditions of New Orleans, future generations will know of our legacy and will continue the traditions. As much as of a good time I had heard the stories, most of them were filled with facing racism and oppression, but I found joy in seeing that in 2020 we continue to take to the street. Let me quote my great-cousin “Soup” who told me his Big Chief told him while he worked as long as six months offshore that “No matter what you have to take to the streets Mardi Gras Day.” Soup told me how he established a relationship with the owners of the fabric and bead shops when he was on the boat to ensure that he would receive his supplies while offshore. Now, that’s the true definition of “For The Culture.” 

We have to come together like we do on Secondline Sundays and show unity as our ancestors. We need all of The Big Chief’s even those who do not Mask to take to the streets and chant for justice. Let’s take it to the courthouse for our people and all that we contribute to New Orleans. Come on down, Big Chief!!! The gang is waiting for you!!!

Under Da Claiborne Bridge with Black Masking Indians 💜💛💚⚜️🎭

I was brought to tears hearing and seeing this little girl Greet the Queen. The emotions were all in her face and body movements.

We have to at least applaud the families who continue the traditions and cultures of our ancestors. They are not paid or given any incentives for this. People come from all over the world to take pictures and record, some get paid big money for the work and artistry of the Black Masking Indians. Photography is a job, it takes a great eye to capture a moment but seriously in addition to creating an Indian suit they go out and walk the streets all for the love of the culture. At least name their tribe, send a card or something when you make money off their images. ⚜️💯

Big Chief

  https://nolachic.blog/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/mardigras-day.mov

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10216550413452341&id=1218678471

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10216550410932278&id=1218678471

A NOLA Chic Experience with the New Orleans Black Masking Indians-Mardi Gras Indians Most of you have to wait until Mardi Gras Day, Super Sunday, Saint Joseph's Day and Night, Secondline parades and the New Orleans Jazz Festival to experience the beautiful sights and sounds of the New Orleans Black Masking Indians.

[grabtee]

Black Cat Water Reflection Black Panther Shirt

New Post has been published on https://lazadashirt.com/trending/black-cat-water-reflection-black-panther-shirt/

Black Cat Water Reflection Black Panther Shirt

Some of us have been reducing, reusing, recycling for decades and never getting stories and accolades. Now it’s so trendy to do the Black Cat Water Reflection Black Panther Shirt obvious don’t litter and just use as much trash as possible. This is to be commended. We all need to do our bit to recycle and clean up our environments. It makes me really angry when I see rubbish thrown out of car windows along our roads.

T-Shirt

Black Cat Water Reflection Black Panther Shirt, T-Shirt, Hoodie, Long-Sleeved

Long-Sleeved

I’ve seen half-eaten McDonald’s, coffee cups, nappies, wipes, chocolate wrappers the Black Cat Water Reflection Black Panther Shirt is endless. Who does these litter louts think they are to hurl their rubbish out for someone else to pick up. It’s disappointing to see so many adults laughing at the efforts of the youth. It just goes to show how out of touch the adult generations have become with reality, what’s important and society as a whole. I love this you’ve got to admire them.

Women’s T-Shirt

Black Cat Water Reflection Black Panther Shirt, T-Shirt, Hoodie, Long-Sleeved

Sweatshirt

But unfortunately, it’s a little too late something should’ve been done 20years ago. We’ve already passed the Black Cat Water Reflection Black Panther Shirt of no return too much damage has already been done. I did litter picking when I was younger. It’s when you get older things become harder yeh I do my bit I recycle when I can and take showers but everyday life is hard and moves too quick for the working family. So my point is, its fantastic getting kids out doing this but more than likely they will also fall into a working adult civilized life where it’s hard to avoid certain things.

[thegloober]

7 reasons you think you can’t breastfeed and what to do instead

It’s good for your baby, but not every mother finds breastfeeding comes naturally. Here’s what to do if you’re struggling says world-leading researcher and infant feeding expert Professor Amy Brown 

Breastfeeding hit the headlines last week when ultra-marathon runner, Sophie Power, 36, was snapped breastfeeding her three-month-old son mid-race and the photo went viral.

While some detractors questioned whether Power should have run, the response on social media has been mainly positive; Power was not in fact allowed to defer her place, so the choice was run or lose the opportunity.

And why wouldn’t it be? It’s hard to think of a better ad for breastfeeding. Power, who had just run 50 miles looks composed, especially compared to the male runner lying next to her flat on his back.

This photo of Power sparked controversy for breastfeeding baby Corman at a grueling ultramarathon. She struck back against critics in this Instagram post.

Whether you are runner or not, there’s no doubt that breastfeeding is great for you and your baby. And as we’ve seen from these shots, breastfeeding doesn’t need to get in the way of your life or fitness.

breastfeeding protects against a whole range of illnesses, and reduces your risk of developing heart disease, cancer and diabetes

The case in favour of breastfeeding is incredibly positive; it protects against a whole range of illnesses, and reduces your risk of developing heart disease, cancer and diabetes. It saves you buying formula and once you’ve got the hang of it, breastfeeding can be rewarding and far quicker and easier than having to make up bottles.

But that doesn’t mean it always comes easy. Those early weeks can feel really challenging and it’s normal to have all sorts of worries. Is he getting enough milk? Am I latching her on right? Is feeding in public ok?

An infant feeding survey conducted by the NHS found that 80 per cent of women who stop breastfeeding in the first 6 weeks are not ready to do so – and most stop for reasons that with the right support and information could have been prevented.  It also found that in the UK, just half of women are breastfeeding by six weeks compared to 90 per cent in Scandinavia.

Knowledge is power, so here are some of the top breastfeeding concerns and what you can do about them. from world-leading researcher and infant feeding expert and author of new book, world-leading researcher and infant feeding expert Professor Amy Brown.

1. It will hurt

It’s common to worry that breastfeeding will hurt, but with the right advice and support, it shouldn’t. The sensation can sometimes take a little getting used to, but any pain that lasts more than a brief few seconds, is excruciating rather than uncomfortable, or damages your nipple needs sorting out. But the good news is that there are plenty of trained professionals out there who can help you.

The key to comfortable feeding is getting your latch right. Lots of people imagine a baby just sucking on the nipple like a straw but when a baby latches on correctly they take a big mouthful of your nipple and surrounding darker skin (your areola) and draw your nipple right back into their mouth.

It can be tricky to get this right at first, but it’s really important to persevere as if the latch is not right your baby can damage your nipple and may not get enough milk.  A few tiny adjustments in angle or how you are holding your baby could save your nipples. Ask your midwife to check your latch as many times as you like. Check out this La Leche League guide for more information.

If your baby is still struggling and doesn’t seem to be able to get a deep mouthful of breast, talk to your health professional about getting them assessed for tongue tie. Some baby’s tongues are tethered too tightly in their mouths meaning they struggle to latch. Infections such as thrush or mastitis can cause pain too. If you notice any itching or pain in your nipples, or deep in your breasts, or hot, red areas then contact your health professional as soon as possible. All of these things are fixable and do not have to mean the end of breastfeeding.

2. ‘I won’t be able to make enough milk’

You might have heard stories that lots of women don’t make enough milk. However, with the right knowledge and support most women should make enough milk for their baby. The secret is to feed your baby responsively. This means feeding them whenever they want to be fed, throughout the day and night. Babies often feed at least every 2 – 3 hours, often more. Sometimes they have short feeds, and sometimes longer – just like as adults we don’t eat and drink in a set pattern.

Your body matches your milk supply to how much milk you or your baby remove. When you feed your baby, your body replaces that milk. If you feed frequently, you make more milk but if you try to feed less often or give a bottle your body thinks less milk is needed, so makes less. Your baby is the best judge of whether they are hungry, not the clock. Ignore anyone who suggests your baby feeds too much or should feed in a routine.

if you feed frequently, you make more milk but if you try to feed less often or give a bottle your body thinks less milk is needed, so makes less

You can check whether your baby is getting enough milk by thinking about what goes in and what comes out. Is your baby feeding at least 8 – 12 times in 24 hours? Can you hear them swallowing? If they’re over a week old do they have at least 6 wet and 2 dirty nappies a day? (babies older than 6 weeks might have dirty nappies less frequently). Do they look alert and hydrated? For more signs check out the Baby Friendly website.

Some health conditions such as diabetes or thyroid disorders mean you might not make enough milk. Sometimes women do not have enough glandular tissue in their breasts (known as hypoplasia) so might make less milk. If you have this you probably noticed your breasts did not change much in pregnancy, may be long and thin, and widely spaced. However, not making a full milk supply does not need to mean the end of breastfeeding – you can still breastfeed alongside formula if necessary. Talk to your health professional about the best ways of making as much milk as possible.

3. ‘I need to take a medication’

It’s natural to worry about taking a medication when breastfeeding but the good news is that in many cases the medication, or an alternative, will be fine. For many medications only a small amount (or sometimes none at all) will pass into your milk which and is not harmful for your baby. There are exceptions including lithium, some arthritis medications and chemotherapy. But talk to your health professional about your options.

If you have been prescribed a medication and are unsure it is safe, or have been told that you can’t breastfeed and take it, you can contact the Breastfeeding Network’s drugs in breast milk service. Led by a pharmacist with many years experience in supporting breastfeeding, they can give you up to date information about different medications.

4. ‘My baby will be less settled’

Lots of people might tell you that formula will make your baby more settled but this isn’t true. Babies having lots of needs is normal. When they were still inside you they had a constant supply of food, warmth and comfort – being born can be quite a shock! Babies are vulnerable and are programmed to want to be held and stay close to you.

Crying is their only way to communicate. They have tiny tummies so need to feed frequently and shorter sleep cycles so wake often.  If they do wake at night, they often need help getting back to sleep. Lots of adults wake at night but can tuck themselves back in or get themselves a drink.

These things are just your baby’s way of feeling secure and having their needs met rather than something to be fixed. However often we’re not prepared for this. Our first baby may be the first baby we have spent much time around, or even held. Adverts tell us that babies are smiley, happy creatures. No one tells us how much input new babies need. So we often worry that something is wrong, or needs fixing.

Some people might tell you that formula will solve all of this for you. It won’t. There is no reason why a bottle of formula would change what is normal baby behaviour. Your baby just wants you however they are fed. This can be really tough though, so make sure everyone around you helps by looking after you. After all, you just grew a whole new human, and are now keeping it alive with your boobs – you deserve it!

5. ‘I won’t be able to feed in public’

It can be nerve wracking the first few times you feed a baby in public, sat in an unfamiliar chair, all the while silently thinking ‘I’ve got my breast out in public’. But the number one thing to remember is that you are protected to breastfeed your baby by law wherever and whenever you want. No one can ask you to stop, to move elsewhere, or to leave.

If you are worried you can practice in front of a mirror: strategically drape a muslin cloth, or face away from others –  but only do that if it helps you feel more comfortable, not for anyone else. Taking a friend or partner the first few times can help you feel supported too.

But once you’ve got that baby latched on and look up, you’ll most likely find that no one has noticed. Although we might hear stories where women have been harassed or asked to feed in a toilet, many thousands of women breastfeed their babies every day without issue. You might even find, like I did, that people come up and talk to you, or even stoke your baby’s head, without even realising they are feeding! 

6. ‘My partner won’t bond with the baby’

This one is so common to hear but absolutely does not need to be true. There are so many ways to bond with a baby; giving them a bath, cuddling them in a sling, or taking them out for a walk in between feeds. Your partner could sit with, so you’re all cuddled up together. And when they’re a little older (it’s best to wait for around 6 weeks to get your supply sorted) if you’re both happy, you can express a feed for them to give. Some couples choose the feed before bed so you can get a head start on some sleep.

It’s also important to remember that although we might have an idyllic image of giving a baby a bottle, it doesn’t always work out that way. Some babies refuse a bottle. And then there’s the sterilising and preparing and buying of formula. There can be more relaxing ways to bond!

7. ‘My diet isn’t healthy enough’ 

Eating healthily is important, but that’s mainly to make sure you feel as strong as possible. The human body is clever, and will prioritise making sure your baby gets enough milk, but if your diet is not great, then it’s you who might end up feeling a bit rubbish. But you don’t have to worry about your milk – what you eat doesn’t really have any impact on its nutrients. Focus on good foods that nourish and help repair your body after birth – but there’s no need to be really strict. Cake definitely has its place.

Hopefully you are now feeling more confident about breastfeeding your baby. If you have any further questions, you can contact the National Breastfeeding Helpline, open 9.30am – 9.30pm 365 days a year (0300 100 0212). Calls are answered by trained experts, who have breastfed their own babies. For extra support and friendly faces, ask your health professional for details of your local breastfeeding peer support group. Breastfeeding mums and trained supporters can help answer your queries or just sympathise about your shared exhaustion, often over cake.

The Positive Breastfeeding Book: Everything you need to feed your baby with confidence by Amy Brown is published by Pinter & Martin £14.99

Professor Amy Brown is based in the Department of Public Health, Policy and Social Sciences at Swansea University in the UK where she leads the MSc in Child Public Health. With a background in psychology, she first became interested in the many barriers women face when breastfeeding after having her first baby. Three babies and a PhD later she has spent the last twelve years exploring psychological, cultural and societal barriers to breastfeeding, with an emphasis on understanding how we can better support women to breastfeed and subsequently raise breastfeeding rates.

Find out more: breastfeedinguncovered.co.uk Follow Professor Brown on Twitter: @Prof_AmyBrown

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Parliamentarian Adam Bandt Talks Family

Parliamentarian Adam Bandt Talks Family

Family

Emma Eldridge

Adam Bandt MP is worried about what a warmer world will mean for his children, Elke (1) and Wren (3). Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for  The Design Files.

Adam his wife Claudia Perkins and the girls at home. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for  The Design Files.

Adam is the Federal Member for Melbourne and Acting Co-Deputy of the Australian Greens. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for  The Design Files.

‘Claudia and I feel really strongly about not putting children at risk through non-vaccination,’ tells Adam. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for  The Design Files.

Adam being frequently in Canberra presents some challenges for the young family – but FaceTime does help! Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for  The Design Files.

Adam is a champion of social justice, climate action, and racial, educational and economic equity. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for  The Design Files.

Adam highlights that there are more women in the paid workforce than ever before, but that hasn’t come with a rebalancing of domestic work. Photo – Sarah Collins of Work + Co. for  The Design Files.

I’m writing this on August 23rd, the day the Liberal Party of Australia was overrun by enmity, and we lost another Prime Minister – our fifth in five years. My six-year-old nephew told us, ‘I’m going to have nightmares tonight, I’m so worried for Australia.’ He added, ’What’s going to happen to Indigenous Australians?’ – fitting, considering Peter Dutton boycotted the Stolen Generations apology.

How are we meant to explain all this to our children – the disloyalty and ill-discipline, the thirst for revenge – from those who are meant to lead and inspire us, to build our future? I don’t have the answers, and feel glad my son is still too young to question.

Today we talk with Adam Bandt, Federal Member for Melbourne, father to daughters Wren and Elke, and champion of social justice, climate action, and racial, educational and economic equity. I can’t help but agree with Craig Laundy that modern Australian politics is broken, and generational change is required to restore purpose and compassion to our leaders. Adam is a light at the end of this dark tunnel.

Adam, thank you for talking with us today. I understand you are protective of your family’s privacy but felt compelled to speak out on their behalf a few years back to plead with parents – in your local area and beyond – to vaccinate their children. Do you think anything has changed on this front? Is it possible to breakthrough on such issues in our age of distrust and fake news?

Claudia and I feel really strongly about not putting children at risk through non-vaccination. Going public made a difference, because it helped dispel a myth about how Greens-voting, cloth nappy-using, inner-city parents act. I also think us sharing our personal story helped reinforce trust in the science, because we weren’t asking people to do something we weren’t already doing ourselves.

With the House of Representatives sitting for almost a third of the year, you’re away a lot for work. How do you remain an engaged parent and support Claudia when in Canberra, travelling the country or abroad?

I think we only get by because Claudia and I share similar values, and she thinks the work is important. It’s the hardest part of the job, and while I’m not after any sympathy for myself, because I stuck my hand up for this, I think people fail to appreciate how hard it is on partners, who spend a big chunk of time as single parents.

FaceTime is great, and I try to talk to the kids at least twice a day from Canberra. But it has its down sides: I still remember Wren before she turned two saying ‘Daddy come out of phone and read Wren a story.’ My heart swelled with pride at the grammar but ached from the content! Canberra sitting weeks end on Thursday nights, and I spend time with the kids alone on Friday mornings, often heading to the Melbourne Museum. Claudia can usually rely on that too, that she will get that break.

It is difficult to support Claudia when I’m away, beyond trying to be a sympathetic voice. If the kids have been up all night and have left her wrecked before she heads to work, I can’t be that much help. The main thing is making time for Claudia to have a rest from us all when I get back. And after getting home on a Thursday night, I usually sleep on the couch in case the kids have a bad night, so that she can shut the door and get some sleep. It’s not much, but when it’s been a tough week with the kids, it’s at least something she can look forward to.

You’ve said, ‘men need to talk about gender more… the whole world is built on the unpaid work of women and it’s time to acknowledge gender is not just a women’s issue.’ Can you tell us a bit about the legislation you’ve introduced to help give people – especially those caring for others – better work/life balance? What do you think it will take to upend our cultural norms around family and work?

We’re doing a terrible job in Australia of matching the hours people want to work with the hours they actually work. We’ve got young people un- and under-employed at record rates. But at the other end of the spectrum, too many people are overworked and women especially are reporting work negatively interferes with their lives. There are more women in the paid workforce than ever before, but that hasn’t come with a rebalancing of domestic work. And it’s not just children who need looking after; as people live longer, it’s often parents too. Rising job insecurity, with people working more irregular hours and having less say over it, is also making things worse.

So I’ve been pushing to give people more control over their working hours. I’m trying to change the law so that people have an enforceable right to change their working arrangements, especially if they are carers, with the federal workplace commissionable to adjudicate disputes. I’m also pushing bills to start winding back the negative consequences of insecure work. We want to start the push to shorten the average working week, to help share available work around more fairly, and give people more time off.

Changing the law will help change cultural norms, but people need to join their unions and the growing social movements pushing for a better deal. We will only get work/life balance and job insecurity laws through Parliament if MPs can see a groundswell for change. That means more people – and especially men – speaking out about the pressures that overwork, expensive childcare, and runaway housing costs are having on our personal and family lives.

As a mother and human, I’ve watched in horror as ‘migrant families’ have been separated in the US. I sense most Australians feel the same, yet when it comes to our own approach to refugees, that humanity slips away – the hearts of so many remain hard. With an election looming and the issue bound to be abused, how might we restore a sense of compassion for refugees?

It’s heartbreaking. On Nauru, there are 119 children that we have effectively been locked up, including a 14-year-old with muscle wastage so severe he may not walk again, a 12-year-old at imminent risk dying, and a two-year-old whose mother is in a ‘catatonic’ state. Labor reopened this camp, and the Liberals are keeping people there. What we’re doing isn’t that different from Donald Trump’s ‘children in cages,’ there’s just less media access.

Consecutive governments have sought to dehumanise these people, calling them ‘illegals’ and making them appear a threat to our security. Key to turning it around is telling their stories, reminding Australians that these are children and people that are just like you and me, and making the case that our cities and regions are so much better because we accepted ‘boat people’ in the past and didn’t lock them up. I always remind people that Melbourne is the great place it is because of boat people, refugees and migrants. If we did 40 years ago what we’re doing now, we wouldn’t have the Vietnamese community making Richmond great, for example. It gives me hope to remember that only a few decades ago we did it differently in this country, and I think we can get there again.

And the one language politicians understand is votes, so when it becomes clear (as it did in Melbourne) that people don’t want their politicians to engage in a race to the bottom on refugees and will switch their votes accordingly, MPs will start to shift.

When you’re at home in Melbourne, how do your days start and end with Wren and Elke?

Generally, I’m the one who gets them up and gives them breakfast. If one of them gets up at 5.30 or 6.00, there’s sometimes a half-hour on the couch with the lounge lamp on, where we get to cuddle and talk in a quiet house before anyone else wakes up. It’s a really special time for me. Wren and I spent these moments during summer and autumn looking out the window at the changing fig tree in the backyard, discussing how fruit grows and leaves fall off. At the end of the day, I give them a bath and get them ready for bed while Claudia cleans up after dinner. I haggle with Elke over brushing her teeth. I read them each three stories of their choice and then put them to bed.

Moving across time, what kind of adults might you like the girls to grow into? How would you like them to remember you to their own families, and what hopes do you have for the country they call home – a future Australia?

I want them to be strong, loving and to know what makes them happy. If they talk to their children about their lives growing up, I hope they say their parents unconditionally loved them and helped them follow their own path.

I’m also worried about what a warmer world will mean for them, both in terms of a changed climate, rising sea levels and more bushfires, but also what society will be like. Society may become meaner and conflict may get worse, so I hope they get from us some core values of compassion and equality.

If they say that their parents did everything they could to stop global warming and make society a more equal place, I’ll be happy.

  Family Favourites

Activity or outing

If we can make a day of it, we’ll go to the Toolangi forest just over an hour out of Melbourne, which I hope will one day be part of a Great Forest National Park. If it’s just for a few hours, we’ll visit the Collingwood Children’s Farm where we’re members – another good way of being surrounded by trees while entertaining the kids.

Dinner destination

We started the kids on phở early on, deciding that they’d eat what we ate, so Pho House in Flemington – or the ‘noodle soup shop’ – is a firm favourite.

Book, film, or show

Across the whole family, ‘Where is the Green Sheep?’ has been on highest rotation over the last three years, but it now has ‘Hairy Maclary’ breathing down its neck. Our next outing is to see Justine Clarke perform; seeing Australian live music has gone next level for us.

Place to travel

We still can’t work out whether travelling with two kids under four is a nice break or hell in a different location. From time to time we rent a holiday house near the beach at Balnarring which has a cubby house, trampoline, and secure fence, so if we’re lucky that can give us up to 20 minutes at a time kid-free. We did take them overseas to sit on a beach for 10 days, which I currently remember as being fun, but which Claudia says I swore at the time was never to be repeated.