The above was copied and pasted from http://www.theleakyboob.com/
Thursday 29 September 2011
{this moment} – A Friday ritual from Soule Mama, one of my favorite bloggers. A single photo (or two) – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your “moment” in the comments for all to find and see.
The above was copied and pasted from http://www.theleakyboob.com/
The above was copied and pasted from http://www.theleakyboob.com/
I'm Ba-ack
Goodness its been a long time, so much for trying to get to the blog once a week huh?
But thats how I am I get really into things and become almost obsessive with them and then something else gets my interest and I move on. I do think however I will keep revisiting this blog as I have enjoyed it especially when I get into one of my ranty moods.
I guess any who read this (I don’t think there is that many) would prob be waiting for some updates considering the somber news in my previous posts. So the news is good. Big Daddy got really sick with a shocking strain of flu shortly after his first round of ‘inconclusive’ tests so his second round of tests where delayed. Then they got delayed because he was feeling better and the lumps had gone down, because Big Daddy is a very typical man in a lot of ways, this inherently told him he was fine and there was no need to worry. After several weeks of myself and family and friends stressing, and nagging him with worst case scenarios he finally caved and did his tests and the results came back all clear. Cue smug chest beating, rooster strutting and ‘told ya’. But you know what I’ll let him have that one coz I think he was secretly avoiding the results because he was scared and who wouldn’t be?
As for the kids, well what can I say, they’re kids. Chunky Monkey still likes to tease us by doing a night or two of only one waking and spending most of the night in his own bed and then going back to two hourly feedings and refusing to sleep unless he’s on MY pillow and wedged under my back so that I am unable to shift or roll until he decides to do his next feed. We’ve also started using cloth nappies (diapers for my overseas followers). The addictive nature of buying and selling and washing and discussing this parenting choice is phenomenal, I mean they’re nappies, the get pooed on for petes sake. I am in awe of the different colours, patterns, prices, you can even get them custom made and it is 100% addictive. In fact its what has kept from blogging because I’ve been researching and testing washing methods and fits etc. I’ve even considered having a crack at making some myself. Borrowed mums sewing machine and all. Only problem is the last time I used one was 12 years ago and I wasn’t particularly good at it then lol so we’ll see how that goes.
On the upside there’s alot more space in our bins and our grocery budget which is nice and I get to feel like I’m doing something positive for the environment. I guess its one step closer to me being a ‘crunchy’ mum or doing the ‘attachment parenting thing’. Note: I do not aim to subscribe to any particular parenting style, in fact I find the whole concept of labelling and pigeon holing people by their parenting choices a little ridiculous.
Any way thats probably enough random rambling from me today, time to get back to work on some posts that I started ages ago that are hopefully much more interesting.
But thats how I am I get really into things and become almost obsessive with them and then something else gets my interest and I move on. I do think however I will keep revisiting this blog as I have enjoyed it especially when I get into one of my ranty moods.
I guess any who read this (I don’t think there is that many) would prob be waiting for some updates considering the somber news in my previous posts. So the news is good. Big Daddy got really sick with a shocking strain of flu shortly after his first round of ‘inconclusive’ tests so his second round of tests where delayed. Then they got delayed because he was feeling better and the lumps had gone down, because Big Daddy is a very typical man in a lot of ways, this inherently told him he was fine and there was no need to worry. After several weeks of myself and family and friends stressing, and nagging him with worst case scenarios he finally caved and did his tests and the results came back all clear. Cue smug chest beating, rooster strutting and ‘told ya’. But you know what I’ll let him have that one coz I think he was secretly avoiding the results because he was scared and who wouldn’t be?
As for the kids, well what can I say, they’re kids. Chunky Monkey still likes to tease us by doing a night or two of only one waking and spending most of the night in his own bed and then going back to two hourly feedings and refusing to sleep unless he’s on MY pillow and wedged under my back so that I am unable to shift or roll until he decides to do his next feed. We’ve also started using cloth nappies (diapers for my overseas followers). The addictive nature of buying and selling and washing and discussing this parenting choice is phenomenal, I mean they’re nappies, the get pooed on for petes sake. I am in awe of the different colours, patterns, prices, you can even get them custom made and it is 100% addictive. In fact its what has kept from blogging because I’ve been researching and testing washing methods and fits etc. I’ve even considered having a crack at making some myself. Borrowed mums sewing machine and all. Only problem is the last time I used one was 12 years ago and I wasn’t particularly good at it then lol so we’ll see how that goes.
On the upside there’s alot more space in our bins and our grocery budget which is nice and I get to feel like I’m doing something positive for the environment. I guess its one step closer to me being a ‘crunchy’ mum or doing the ‘attachment parenting thing’. Note: I do not aim to subscribe to any particular parenting style, in fact I find the whole concept of labelling and pigeon holing people by their parenting choices a little ridiculous.
Any way thats probably enough random rambling from me today, time to get back to work on some posts that I started ages ago that are hopefully much more interesting.
Sunday 24 July 2011
Our Breastfeeding Journey- A Story of Success
Isn’t funny how words can take on different meanings depending on who you are and what stage of life you’re in. In my late teens success was all about acing uni and getting into politics, having lots of money to party and travel and moving into an awesome apartment (with a balcony) with my best friend.
Then all of a sudden I met my fiancé and success became about proving wrong everyone who thought we wouldn’t last (we were engaged after only 3 weeks), saving enough money to move out of his parents house, buying a house of our own, planning a kickass wedding and topping the sales board in my new Job as a membership consultant at a big job.
Three years later right as I’d booked our wedding venues I fell pregnant with the Mighty Midget and he was born 6 weeks premature. Success was about getting him well enough to come out intensive care and being a good enough and aware enough parent to keep him out. And with the birth of the Chunky Monkey success became about moving beyond past mistakes and having the courage to try again at things that I wasn’t sure I could achieve, namely to try again at Breastfeeding.
My Breast Feeding journey begins with the mighty midget despite the fact that it wasn’t a great success. There were obstacles and ‘booby traps’ from the beginning, being premature we were not able to have the skin to skin contact needed in order to establish breast feeding. He was whisked away and I was unable to hold him for 3 days. During this time I pumped and hand expressed in order for him to be tube fed, he was fed in this manner exclusively for 8 days and on day 9 we began our first attempts at latching. He latched well initially however couldn’t stay on for long, becoming tired rapidly and had such a tiny mouth, the midwife suggested we try a shield. This made things markedly easier and by day 12 he was doing all ‘suck feeds’ and had gained enough weight to be released. There were restrictions on our feeding schedule however, we were told that Mighty Midget shouldn’t feed any more than 4 hourly or he would burn too much energy and lose weight again(Booby Trap#1). We were also advised by a different midwife that I had oversupply and now that he was doing all suck feeds I needed to stop pumping otherwise I would get mastitis, there was no talk of taking advantage of this to build a freezer stash in case he needed to be readmitted, the fact that I was using a shield and not getting stimulated as much by his suck also wasn’t considered when this advice was dispensed (Booby trap#2). After a couple of days at home things started to go down hill, all of a sudden he wanted to feed for up to an hour and a half at a time and then would be hungry again half an hour later. I vaguely remembered hearing or reading something about demand feeding and I couldn’t stand the sound of my baby crying so I would sit in the rocking chair all night sobbing and feeding wondering what I was doing wrong. When the community nurse came to my house for his first check up my worst fears were realised, he was not putting on weight. I described his feeding patterns and was told in no uncertain terms that this was far too long for a new born to feed, and even though his nappy output was good that he mustn’t be getting enough and this was why he hadn’t gained weight. I had to supplement and since I didn’t have much of a freezer stash due to booby trap#2 it had to be formula (Booby Trap#3). I was advised to pump after each feed (but wasn’t told to pump between feedings) however I wasn’t told for how long each time, I also wasn’t told that I wouldn’t necessarily get much milk out if he had just fed. I also wasn’t told about any supplements or foods I now know about that could have helped build supply. I was so heartbroken each time I pumped and got nothing and so relieved when at his next check up he had put on weight and had began sleeping well that eventually by about 2 months he was on completely formula and the pump had been packed away. I pushed it to the back of my mind and moved on.
When I found out I was pregnant with the Chunky Monkey I was determined to try again, I was terrified that I was going to have another premmie but fortune smiled on us and he was born 12 days before his official due date at a healthy weight of 3.9Kg. We got a blissful 2 hours of alone time to just cuddle skin to skin immediately after he was born and he latched within 10 minutes of that time and fed for about 20 minutes then fell asleep. His latch wasn’t perfect and had worn a sore patch on my nipple but I had colostrums leaking when he unlatched. I was ecstatic. We were in a much more breastfeeding friendly hospital than the first time and when I worried that he was feeding too often I was assured that this was normal, I was given brilliant advice about practicing nursing while side laying so we could both sleep. Despite this by around 4 weeks I was having doubts again, this largely due to certain people giving me booby trap advice about how often I was having to feed and that perhaps there wasn’t enough calories in my milk. My saviour came in the form of a woman I used to work with who just happened to be on facebook chat one day, we began discussing children and I was surprised to learn she was still feeding her 16 month old. My goal was to reach 12 months, I had never even considered the possibility of going longer. The next morning I received a page suggestion from her, The Leaky B@@b. I checked out the page and I was in heaven! I promptly posted my concerns and the ‘advice’ I had been given and within minutes I had several women reassuring me and encouraging me and I haven’t looked back since. We recently made it to 6 months and in that time have overcome hospital stays several colds, bouts of bronchiolitis, a minor brush with mastitis and returning to work. I have high hopes that our breastfeeding journey will continue for a long while yet and look forward to what the future successes are in store for my family and I.
Then all of a sudden I met my fiancé and success became about proving wrong everyone who thought we wouldn’t last (we were engaged after only 3 weeks), saving enough money to move out of his parents house, buying a house of our own, planning a kickass wedding and topping the sales board in my new Job as a membership consultant at a big job.
Three years later right as I’d booked our wedding venues I fell pregnant with the Mighty Midget and he was born 6 weeks premature. Success was about getting him well enough to come out intensive care and being a good enough and aware enough parent to keep him out. And with the birth of the Chunky Monkey success became about moving beyond past mistakes and having the courage to try again at things that I wasn’t sure I could achieve, namely to try again at Breastfeeding.
My Breast Feeding journey begins with the mighty midget despite the fact that it wasn’t a great success. There were obstacles and ‘booby traps’ from the beginning, being premature we were not able to have the skin to skin contact needed in order to establish breast feeding. He was whisked away and I was unable to hold him for 3 days. During this time I pumped and hand expressed in order for him to be tube fed, he was fed in this manner exclusively for 8 days and on day 9 we began our first attempts at latching. He latched well initially however couldn’t stay on for long, becoming tired rapidly and had such a tiny mouth, the midwife suggested we try a shield. This made things markedly easier and by day 12 he was doing all ‘suck feeds’ and had gained enough weight to be released. There were restrictions on our feeding schedule however, we were told that Mighty Midget shouldn’t feed any more than 4 hourly or he would burn too much energy and lose weight again(Booby Trap#1). We were also advised by a different midwife that I had oversupply and now that he was doing all suck feeds I needed to stop pumping otherwise I would get mastitis, there was no talk of taking advantage of this to build a freezer stash in case he needed to be readmitted, the fact that I was using a shield and not getting stimulated as much by his suck also wasn’t considered when this advice was dispensed (Booby trap#2). After a couple of days at home things started to go down hill, all of a sudden he wanted to feed for up to an hour and a half at a time and then would be hungry again half an hour later. I vaguely remembered hearing or reading something about demand feeding and I couldn’t stand the sound of my baby crying so I would sit in the rocking chair all night sobbing and feeding wondering what I was doing wrong. When the community nurse came to my house for his first check up my worst fears were realised, he was not putting on weight. I described his feeding patterns and was told in no uncertain terms that this was far too long for a new born to feed, and even though his nappy output was good that he mustn’t be getting enough and this was why he hadn’t gained weight. I had to supplement and since I didn’t have much of a freezer stash due to booby trap#2 it had to be formula (Booby Trap#3). I was advised to pump after each feed (but wasn’t told to pump between feedings) however I wasn’t told for how long each time, I also wasn’t told that I wouldn’t necessarily get much milk out if he had just fed. I also wasn’t told about any supplements or foods I now know about that could have helped build supply. I was so heartbroken each time I pumped and got nothing and so relieved when at his next check up he had put on weight and had began sleeping well that eventually by about 2 months he was on completely formula and the pump had been packed away. I pushed it to the back of my mind and moved on.
When I found out I was pregnant with the Chunky Monkey I was determined to try again, I was terrified that I was going to have another premmie but fortune smiled on us and he was born 12 days before his official due date at a healthy weight of 3.9Kg. We got a blissful 2 hours of alone time to just cuddle skin to skin immediately after he was born and he latched within 10 minutes of that time and fed for about 20 minutes then fell asleep. His latch wasn’t perfect and had worn a sore patch on my nipple but I had colostrums leaking when he unlatched. I was ecstatic. We were in a much more breastfeeding friendly hospital than the first time and when I worried that he was feeding too often I was assured that this was normal, I was given brilliant advice about practicing nursing while side laying so we could both sleep. Despite this by around 4 weeks I was having doubts again, this largely due to certain people giving me booby trap advice about how often I was having to feed and that perhaps there wasn’t enough calories in my milk. My saviour came in the form of a woman I used to work with who just happened to be on facebook chat one day, we began discussing children and I was surprised to learn she was still feeding her 16 month old. My goal was to reach 12 months, I had never even considered the possibility of going longer. The next morning I received a page suggestion from her, The Leaky B@@b. I checked out the page and I was in heaven! I promptly posted my concerns and the ‘advice’ I had been given and within minutes I had several women reassuring me and encouraging me and I haven’t looked back since. We recently made it to 6 months and in that time have overcome hospital stays several colds, bouts of bronchiolitis, a minor brush with mastitis and returning to work. I have high hopes that our breastfeeding journey will continue for a long while yet and look forward to what the future successes are in store for my family and I.
Thursday 14 July 2011
The waiting game
8/7/11 10:43 AM
I have never felt time pass as slowly as it is today. I don’t know if I will publish this post but I need something to keep from falling off the edge of anxiety. I have an incredibly vivid and at times morbid imagination and today it is torturing me. I’ve tried occupying myself otherwise, I could certainly get some more housework done but that just allows my mind more time and space to wander to places I don’t want it too. As a result this post will probably end up quite long and rambling. I’m currently in dispute with the phone company so I don’t have internet or phone until tomorrow morning so this post may also be broken into several parts as the day goes on.
We are currently in the midst of a health scare, more specifically Big Daddy is in the midst of a health scare. On Friday morning he noticed a sore spot on the right side of his neck behind his jaw, by mid morning this spot had turned into a lump and by afternoon this lump had turned into several lumps running behind his jaw and down his neck. It was also causing him enough discomfort for him to ask me to book a doctors appointment. The possible diagnoses he was given were a cyst or swelling in the lymph nodes. Treatment for cyst is fairly self explanatory, drainage and possibly removal + antibiotics, simple stuff. If its swelling of the Lymph nodes then further investigation would be required. So anyway he booked himself in to have an ultrasound which was yesterday afternoon, the ultrasound technician ruled out a cyst virtually straight away, he then called in a colleague to have a look , at which point Big Daddy heard them talking in hushed tones catching the words ‘Lymphoma’ and ‘bilateral’. The technician then had a look at the other side of Big Daddys neck as well as the front (he was only booked in to have the right side checked). He also began asking odd questions about wether Big Daddy has been feeling more tired than usual (of course he has we have a 6 month old that doesn’t sleep through), he also asked things like wether he has been experiencing any soreness under his arms or wether he has be getting very hot at nights. Answer to both was yes however we had previously attributed this to the fact that we have had just about every cold and flu virus going around go through our house this year. The appointment was ended with the technician advising that he was not allowed to give us the results that we would need to get them from the doctor, the results should now be with the doctor and we have been advised to call mid morning today to see if a follow up appointment is required or wether the antibiotics that he was given on Friday as a ‘just in case’ measure will be sufficient. As I mentioned before we have no working phone or internet at the moment so Big Daddy is making the call from work and I wont find out if he has to go in until he gets home this afternoon in about 4 hours.
Needless to say this is causing a certain degree of stress and anxiety. Not having the internet is a blessing in disguise at it means that I can’t go googling and seeing worst case scenarios. I do however have enough background knowledge to know that Lymphoma is cancer of the Lymph Nodes and Bilateral means both sides. For some reason something in the back of my mind is telling me that if it is the ‘C’ word then it’s one of the better ones to have especially if caught early. I don’t know if this is true or if it is a survival mechanism to prevent my panic button going into overdrive.
Being the practical couple that we are we decided not to ignore the proverbial elephant last night and discussed our options in the face of a ‘C’ word diagnosis, we covered things like finances and work, sperm harvesting, where he would need to go for treatment. While we agreed theres no sense worrying until we know I think it helped keep emotions from taking over too much. So now its the waiting game and thankfully the Chunky Monkey has just woken from his nap...a welcome distraction.
12:53 PM
Chunky Monkey is dosed up (he’s teething) and napping again, Mighty Midge is snuggled with me on the lounge and brain is starting to wander again. Its so hard being cut off from my lines of communication, its amazing how much we’ve come to rely on them as a society, the instant gratification generation. I’ve been sending a mental S.O.S to my friend hoping she’ll decided to head on up the mountain, or maybe she’s working today and will decide to pop in on her way past, I don’t even know whether I’d tell her yet but I just need to break the silence. There were a lot of silences between myself and Big Daddy, not uncomfortable ones but it was clear we were both lost in our thoughts of what will be. I caught him gazing at our boys often, not that this is out of the ordinary but there was a different tone to it. I guess I’m stating the obvious, of course there was a different tone to it. Sleep took its time to creep up but when it did Big Daddy seemed to sleep peacefully. I on the other hand lay there awake for several hours as I do when I have even the most mundane things on my mind. I’ve never dealt well with suspense, I’m impatient at the best of times and when my mind begins to chatter boy does it chatter. Maybe I should learn how to meditate, is it really possible to clear ones mind of all conscious thought? Sounds like heaven.
Isn’t it funny how kids seem to pick up on the vibe that somethings not quite right. Mighty Midgets Asthma has been playing up the last couple of days so he has been particularly grumpy and trying but today hes being about as well behaved as an overtired, sick 2 year old can be. I’m getting lots of ‘Lug you mummy’ and lots of snuggles. This causes my mind to wander to ridiculous places, scenarios I should be banishing from my mind until we know for sure.
1 hour and 45 minutes until Big Daddy finishes work. I should get things prepped for dinner while Chunky Monkey sleeps.
3:30 pm
Big Daddy is home, he called for his results but was told by the receptionist that there is a note on his file stating that they are not to disclose anything over the phone and the earliest appointment he can get is 4pm tomorrow so it looks like another sleepless night and long day ahead. We both keep saying to each other not to stress it could be nothing but I know the ominous tone of the message is plaguing us both. I can tell we’re both thinking the worst. He’s playing with our boys and I can see him jamming his fists into his eyes to hold off tears when he thinks I’m not looking. I’m sending prayers out into the universe, please please let me be overreacting. Tomorrow feels like forever away.
9/7/11 9:26 pm
No news is good news right?? We got the results this afternoon the news is neither good nor bad just a little confusing. One of the Lymph nodes on his right side is 3 times the size it should be and is flat instead of round and the ones on his left are beginning to swell. He needs to get blood tests done. At the moment they can’t confirm anything or rule anything out it is too early to tell. Big Daddy is under observation and has to go in for another ultra sound in a month or sooner if there is any significant change. There has been lots of discussions with the doctor around his family history of cancer and when he goes in for his blood test results needs to get bowel and prostate checked just to be safe. The doctor confirmed that he does have a lot of the possible symptoms for Lymphoma however these symptoms also fall in the range of someone who has 2 young children and is just simply exhausted, the size and shape of his nodes though and family history is concerning so for now we continue to wait and keep an eye on things. The good news is that if it was what we fear it has been caught early enough to treat.
Thats all I really have the energy for now that I’m coming down off the anxiety of the past few days, Mighty Midget is currently sick again and coughing and crying in his sleep so its off to bed for me and tonight I am praying for sleep, at least a couple of 3 hour blocks would be nice.
I have never felt time pass as slowly as it is today. I don’t know if I will publish this post but I need something to keep from falling off the edge of anxiety. I have an incredibly vivid and at times morbid imagination and today it is torturing me. I’ve tried occupying myself otherwise, I could certainly get some more housework done but that just allows my mind more time and space to wander to places I don’t want it too. As a result this post will probably end up quite long and rambling. I’m currently in dispute with the phone company so I don’t have internet or phone until tomorrow morning so this post may also be broken into several parts as the day goes on.
We are currently in the midst of a health scare, more specifically Big Daddy is in the midst of a health scare. On Friday morning he noticed a sore spot on the right side of his neck behind his jaw, by mid morning this spot had turned into a lump and by afternoon this lump had turned into several lumps running behind his jaw and down his neck. It was also causing him enough discomfort for him to ask me to book a doctors appointment. The possible diagnoses he was given were a cyst or swelling in the lymph nodes. Treatment for cyst is fairly self explanatory, drainage and possibly removal + antibiotics, simple stuff. If its swelling of the Lymph nodes then further investigation would be required. So anyway he booked himself in to have an ultrasound which was yesterday afternoon, the ultrasound technician ruled out a cyst virtually straight away, he then called in a colleague to have a look , at which point Big Daddy heard them talking in hushed tones catching the words ‘Lymphoma’ and ‘bilateral’. The technician then had a look at the other side of Big Daddys neck as well as the front (he was only booked in to have the right side checked). He also began asking odd questions about wether Big Daddy has been feeling more tired than usual (of course he has we have a 6 month old that doesn’t sleep through), he also asked things like wether he has been experiencing any soreness under his arms or wether he has be getting very hot at nights. Answer to both was yes however we had previously attributed this to the fact that we have had just about every cold and flu virus going around go through our house this year. The appointment was ended with the technician advising that he was not allowed to give us the results that we would need to get them from the doctor, the results should now be with the doctor and we have been advised to call mid morning today to see if a follow up appointment is required or wether the antibiotics that he was given on Friday as a ‘just in case’ measure will be sufficient. As I mentioned before we have no working phone or internet at the moment so Big Daddy is making the call from work and I wont find out if he has to go in until he gets home this afternoon in about 4 hours.
Needless to say this is causing a certain degree of stress and anxiety. Not having the internet is a blessing in disguise at it means that I can’t go googling and seeing worst case scenarios. I do however have enough background knowledge to know that Lymphoma is cancer of the Lymph Nodes and Bilateral means both sides. For some reason something in the back of my mind is telling me that if it is the ‘C’ word then it’s one of the better ones to have especially if caught early. I don’t know if this is true or if it is a survival mechanism to prevent my panic button going into overdrive.
Being the practical couple that we are we decided not to ignore the proverbial elephant last night and discussed our options in the face of a ‘C’ word diagnosis, we covered things like finances and work, sperm harvesting, where he would need to go for treatment. While we agreed theres no sense worrying until we know I think it helped keep emotions from taking over too much. So now its the waiting game and thankfully the Chunky Monkey has just woken from his nap...a welcome distraction.
12:53 PM
Chunky Monkey is dosed up (he’s teething) and napping again, Mighty Midge is snuggled with me on the lounge and brain is starting to wander again. Its so hard being cut off from my lines of communication, its amazing how much we’ve come to rely on them as a society, the instant gratification generation. I’ve been sending a mental S.O.S to my friend hoping she’ll decided to head on up the mountain, or maybe she’s working today and will decide to pop in on her way past, I don’t even know whether I’d tell her yet but I just need to break the silence. There were a lot of silences between myself and Big Daddy, not uncomfortable ones but it was clear we were both lost in our thoughts of what will be. I caught him gazing at our boys often, not that this is out of the ordinary but there was a different tone to it. I guess I’m stating the obvious, of course there was a different tone to it. Sleep took its time to creep up but when it did Big Daddy seemed to sleep peacefully. I on the other hand lay there awake for several hours as I do when I have even the most mundane things on my mind. I’ve never dealt well with suspense, I’m impatient at the best of times and when my mind begins to chatter boy does it chatter. Maybe I should learn how to meditate, is it really possible to clear ones mind of all conscious thought? Sounds like heaven.
Isn’t it funny how kids seem to pick up on the vibe that somethings not quite right. Mighty Midgets Asthma has been playing up the last couple of days so he has been particularly grumpy and trying but today hes being about as well behaved as an overtired, sick 2 year old can be. I’m getting lots of ‘Lug you mummy’ and lots of snuggles. This causes my mind to wander to ridiculous places, scenarios I should be banishing from my mind until we know for sure.
1 hour and 45 minutes until Big Daddy finishes work. I should get things prepped for dinner while Chunky Monkey sleeps.
3:30 pm
Big Daddy is home, he called for his results but was told by the receptionist that there is a note on his file stating that they are not to disclose anything over the phone and the earliest appointment he can get is 4pm tomorrow so it looks like another sleepless night and long day ahead. We both keep saying to each other not to stress it could be nothing but I know the ominous tone of the message is plaguing us both. I can tell we’re both thinking the worst. He’s playing with our boys and I can see him jamming his fists into his eyes to hold off tears when he thinks I’m not looking. I’m sending prayers out into the universe, please please let me be overreacting. Tomorrow feels like forever away.
9/7/11 9:26 pm
No news is good news right?? We got the results this afternoon the news is neither good nor bad just a little confusing. One of the Lymph nodes on his right side is 3 times the size it should be and is flat instead of round and the ones on his left are beginning to swell. He needs to get blood tests done. At the moment they can’t confirm anything or rule anything out it is too early to tell. Big Daddy is under observation and has to go in for another ultra sound in a month or sooner if there is any significant change. There has been lots of discussions with the doctor around his family history of cancer and when he goes in for his blood test results needs to get bowel and prostate checked just to be safe. The doctor confirmed that he does have a lot of the possible symptoms for Lymphoma however these symptoms also fall in the range of someone who has 2 young children and is just simply exhausted, the size and shape of his nodes though and family history is concerning so for now we continue to wait and keep an eye on things. The good news is that if it was what we fear it has been caught early enough to treat.
Thats all I really have the energy for now that I’m coming down off the anxiety of the past few days, Mighty Midget is currently sick again and coughing and crying in his sleep so its off to bed for me and tonight I am praying for sleep, at least a couple of 3 hour blocks would be nice.
Sunday 10 July 2011
Be careful what you wish for
Ever wished your partner would help out more around the house, or at least pick up after themselves? I know I have on countless occasions; in fact I’ve often posted status updates on facebook to the tune of, ‘attention. Iceblock wrappers belong in the bin not on the lounge’ or ‘the safety gate is not your personal clothes horse’ or ‘clothes go in the washing basket not on the floor next to the washing basket, etc. I’ve been getting especially frustrated lately when Big Daddy can’t find something and asks me where I’ve ‘moved it too’, my not so polite response usually details the fact that he never puts things away in the same place he got them and how can I keep the house clean when my time is consumed tidying and putting away after him instead of scrubbing or vacuuming. Well this last fortnight I finally got what I wished for...in spades.
Big Daddy went around the house and tidied it to within an inch of its life he threw things away found homes for things that never had homes, wiped down surfaces that have never been wiped he even vacuumed and dusted. It was a beautiful sight to behold I showered him with praise. Praise was met with a lecture about how now if we just make sure we keep on top of things it won’t be a big job etc. I bit my tongue, knowing that I had shouted that exact rant only days before. The next few days I started to notice something strange and unnerving, I was losing my mind. Every time I put something down I seemed to lose it. I was constantly sure that I had gotten things out of their homes to use them for something but after several minutes of searching would find them still safely in their homes. Normally I would blame mummy brain but this was getting ridiculous, the house was tidier than ever how could I still be losing things? Then it dawned on me, I seemed to have grown an extra shadow... a round looming Big Daddy shaped shadow. It had been almost a week and the house was still spotless, however Big Daddy seemed constantly frustrated, sighing, shaking his head and closing things just a little louder than they needed to be closed. This behaviour seemed familiar. It is the very same passive aggressive behaviour I employ when I’m brewing on something. Instantly I knew he was getting frustrated with my ‘mess’, I started becoming defensive shouting at him to sit down I would get to it in a second. It all came to a head one morning when I was scurrying trying to unpack the table after breakfast while the Chunky Monkey was still content and before Big Daddy swooped. Too late, the next thing I knew he was at the sink huffily washing a bowl. I tersely told him to put it down I was about to do it..and then the lecture began, apparently my problem is that I don’t finish one job before I start another. Excuse me! ‘My problem’ I told him ‘is that somebody has kidnapped my easy going relaxed man and replaced him with fucking Gestapo! I can’t even stop to scratch my ass before someone is getting impatient about the dish that has been on the bench for a whole 3 fucking minutes!’ The ensuing argument lasted a good 2 days, which is pretty unusual for us and there didn’t appear to be any resolution however we now seemed to have reached a happy medium...I think. Well the house is still tidy at least and I seem to be keeping on top of it to a standard that Big Daddy is content with, things are good. Well thats what I thought until I went for my morning wee and saw that the corners on the toilet roll had been folded hotel style. Lord give me strength!
Big Daddy went around the house and tidied it to within an inch of its life he threw things away found homes for things that never had homes, wiped down surfaces that have never been wiped he even vacuumed and dusted. It was a beautiful sight to behold I showered him with praise. Praise was met with a lecture about how now if we just make sure we keep on top of things it won’t be a big job etc. I bit my tongue, knowing that I had shouted that exact rant only days before. The next few days I started to notice something strange and unnerving, I was losing my mind. Every time I put something down I seemed to lose it. I was constantly sure that I had gotten things out of their homes to use them for something but after several minutes of searching would find them still safely in their homes. Normally I would blame mummy brain but this was getting ridiculous, the house was tidier than ever how could I still be losing things? Then it dawned on me, I seemed to have grown an extra shadow... a round looming Big Daddy shaped shadow. It had been almost a week and the house was still spotless, however Big Daddy seemed constantly frustrated, sighing, shaking his head and closing things just a little louder than they needed to be closed. This behaviour seemed familiar. It is the very same passive aggressive behaviour I employ when I’m brewing on something. Instantly I knew he was getting frustrated with my ‘mess’, I started becoming defensive shouting at him to sit down I would get to it in a second. It all came to a head one morning when I was scurrying trying to unpack the table after breakfast while the Chunky Monkey was still content and before Big Daddy swooped. Too late, the next thing I knew he was at the sink huffily washing a bowl. I tersely told him to put it down I was about to do it..and then the lecture began, apparently my problem is that I don’t finish one job before I start another. Excuse me! ‘My problem’ I told him ‘is that somebody has kidnapped my easy going relaxed man and replaced him with fucking Gestapo! I can’t even stop to scratch my ass before someone is getting impatient about the dish that has been on the bench for a whole 3 fucking minutes!’ The ensuing argument lasted a good 2 days, which is pretty unusual for us and there didn’t appear to be any resolution however we now seemed to have reached a happy medium...I think. Well the house is still tidy at least and I seem to be keeping on top of it to a standard that Big Daddy is content with, things are good. Well thats what I thought until I went for my morning wee and saw that the corners on the toilet roll had been folded hotel style. Lord give me strength!
Wednesday 22 June 2011
Finding me
I’ve been getting on my parental high horse lately when reading the status updates of facebook ‘friends’ (i.e. people I’ve added that I went to school with but rarely ever speak to). There seems to be an epidemic of young women with children, some single some not that have a wickedly active social life. One in particular seems to be out clubbing, at music festivals, on cruises doing dinner with friends etc every weekend. And the children in question are young, I’m talking preschool age.
I find myself getting rather judgemental saying things to Big Daddy like, ‘when does she ever actually spend time with her kids’ ‘how is she coping with them when she’s hung over?’ etc, etc. Over the last week I had a revelation though (I seem to be having a few of them lately). I’m a little bit jealous...I have no life...and it’s not because I have young children it’s because I’ve gotten lazy. While I still don’t agree with going out every weekend and getting trashed and I love spending time with my kids I realise that I’m resentful of the fact that she identifies herself as herself first whereas I identify myself as mum first, fiancé/wife second, and as me last. I realised that I do nothing for myself! I mean nothing *warning TMI moment ahead* my youngest is 5 months old and I am yet to book myself back into the beautician for waxing, most mornings I don’t bother to do anything more than put my hair into a messy pony tail with my growing out fringe sprouting from every angle, I’m always in ‘house clothes’ with no makeup, even the most basic of things like my nightly skin care regime has gone out the window all because I tell myself I’m too tired and just want to go straight to bed. I rarely fall asleep within the first half hour anyway so what is 10-15 mins to moisturise etc going to hurt? Any reading I do is directly related to parenting in some way shape or form, in fact the more I type the more I realise how ridiculously boring I’ve become. Big Daddy claims not to care and believes its all part and parcel of having children but surely it doesn’t have to be. Surely he must be feeling slightly ripped off, the 19 year old girl he met and proposed to nearly 6 years ago was actually an interesting multifaceted person, she was halfway through her uni studies she had an awesome social life she was energetic and fun and she was hot! Tanned toned and terrific. Fast forward 6 years and she’s now me, 20-30kg heavier, tired, grumpy and boring. Well it stops here! I’m going to make a series of small changes overtime starting with every morning I am going to dress in something that I would be happy to wear to the shops and not be embarrassed if I ran into an ex flame or old friend, my sloppiest house clothes are now reserved for housework day only. I am going to do my hair so that it doesn’t look like I have a family of swallows nesting in the front. I’m reclaiming my bedtime skin care regime and I’m going to commit to updating this blog once a week in order to keep myself accountable. Over time I will add more things but these are the changes I’m Implementing this week, and believe it or not even though I’ve added these things to my already busy day I seem to have found more time and motivation to complete my other tasks. The house has been tidy enough for visits from the In-laws every day this week and I seem to have found an few extra ounces of patience to deal with toilet training the Mighty Midget while still breastfeeding the Chunky Monkey, I’ve even managed to cook dinner a few nights this week.
Now that I’ve made these changes I find myself getting to the end of the day thinking ‘why was this so hard before?’ In my case I think lack of time and exhaustion is a state of mind, if I let myself think about how hard it is, it becomes harder so now I’m going to be a poster child for positive thinking. Woo! I can’t wait to think my way into having a social life again! Although I still think I’ll leave the weekly clubbing and festivals to those without kids, my little miracles are just far too cute to spend that much time away
I find myself getting rather judgemental saying things to Big Daddy like, ‘when does she ever actually spend time with her kids’ ‘how is she coping with them when she’s hung over?’ etc, etc. Over the last week I had a revelation though (I seem to be having a few of them lately). I’m a little bit jealous...I have no life...and it’s not because I have young children it’s because I’ve gotten lazy. While I still don’t agree with going out every weekend and getting trashed and I love spending time with my kids I realise that I’m resentful of the fact that she identifies herself as herself first whereas I identify myself as mum first, fiancé/wife second, and as me last. I realised that I do nothing for myself! I mean nothing *warning TMI moment ahead* my youngest is 5 months old and I am yet to book myself back into the beautician for waxing, most mornings I don’t bother to do anything more than put my hair into a messy pony tail with my growing out fringe sprouting from every angle, I’m always in ‘house clothes’ with no makeup, even the most basic of things like my nightly skin care regime has gone out the window all because I tell myself I’m too tired and just want to go straight to bed. I rarely fall asleep within the first half hour anyway so what is 10-15 mins to moisturise etc going to hurt? Any reading I do is directly related to parenting in some way shape or form, in fact the more I type the more I realise how ridiculously boring I’ve become. Big Daddy claims not to care and believes its all part and parcel of having children but surely it doesn’t have to be. Surely he must be feeling slightly ripped off, the 19 year old girl he met and proposed to nearly 6 years ago was actually an interesting multifaceted person, she was halfway through her uni studies she had an awesome social life she was energetic and fun and she was hot! Tanned toned and terrific. Fast forward 6 years and she’s now me, 20-30kg heavier, tired, grumpy and boring. Well it stops here! I’m going to make a series of small changes overtime starting with every morning I am going to dress in something that I would be happy to wear to the shops and not be embarrassed if I ran into an ex flame or old friend, my sloppiest house clothes are now reserved for housework day only. I am going to do my hair so that it doesn’t look like I have a family of swallows nesting in the front. I’m reclaiming my bedtime skin care regime and I’m going to commit to updating this blog once a week in order to keep myself accountable. Over time I will add more things but these are the changes I’m Implementing this week, and believe it or not even though I’ve added these things to my already busy day I seem to have found more time and motivation to complete my other tasks. The house has been tidy enough for visits from the In-laws every day this week and I seem to have found an few extra ounces of patience to deal with toilet training the Mighty Midget while still breastfeeding the Chunky Monkey, I’ve even managed to cook dinner a few nights this week.
Now that I’ve made these changes I find myself getting to the end of the day thinking ‘why was this so hard before?’ In my case I think lack of time and exhaustion is a state of mind, if I let myself think about how hard it is, it becomes harder so now I’m going to be a poster child for positive thinking. Woo! I can’t wait to think my way into having a social life again! Although I still think I’ll leave the weekly clubbing and festivals to those without kids, my little miracles are just far too cute to spend that much time away
Wednesday 25 May 2011
Choices
So long time no post, things have been a bit manic in this household of late. Myself and both kids are sick again, just colds this time but the chunky monkey is back to 2 hourly feeds at night again which is exhausting to say the least, so I haven’t had a lot of time to get a post together. In fact it’s taken me an entire day to write these first few lines so goodness knows when I’ll actually get this posted.
We’ve decided it’s necessary for me to go back to work, hopefully it won’t be for long, maybe 6 months at most until the business is making enough money for Big Daddy to draw a decent wage. That being said I’m not entirely happy about it, to be honest I’m not even a little bit happy about it. Luckily my job pays high enough casual rates for me to only have to work weekends in order to pull in nearly as much as I did working full time before I took maternity leave but I’m still being a sook about it. Chunky Monkey is only four and half months old and is a pretty needy baby he nurses every 2 hours still and doesn’t like to be set down for very long and doesn’t really sleep during the day so it’s going to be difficult for Big Daddy at home with both him and the Mighty Midget. My work place also isn’t an ideal set up for a breastfeeding mum to pump and there’s not a lot that they can do about that. I’m a specialist youth worker at a residential treatment facility for high and complex needs young people and part of our role is constant supervision, our young people cannot be left unsupervised even for a short amount of time. We are often short staffed which means it’s common to do an entire 8 hour shift without even getting into the office for a toilet break if the clients are unsettled. I’ve made it clear that there needs to be someone around at all times to relieve me so I can pump at least once during my shift so I really really hope that they strive to maintain this.
I’ve received mixed reactions from female friends when I’ve talked about my desire to be a SAHM if we can afford it. People seem to assume that because I do have a tertiary education and a career that my priority would be to maintain that. In fact some think I’m mad for wanting to ‘throw away all those years of hard work’. They’re even more shocked and in some cases a little disgusted even when they hear that I’m happy to cook and clean and be with the kids while Big Daddy runs the business. It’s like I’m a traitor, I’m taken feminism backwards, the suffragettes fought so that women could have it all blah blah blah. I wonder if any other women in my position feel oppressed by feminism, by the pressure to ‘have it all’. What does ‘having it all’ even mean? What if to me ‘having it all’ means having the financial freedom to play with my kids all day, to be able to do the school run, practice my cooking and shower the man I love with care and affection? What if I would like to perfect the art of being a domestic goddess? (I’m far from achieving this BTW) Society seems to have a pretty negative view of SAHM’s, like they’re not quite as motivated and/or intelligent as us ‘career women’. It’s almost like the whole reverse racism phenomena, we’ve worked so hard to prove that we can do everything men can do and more and now there’s this incredible pressure to measure up and do EVERYTHING and the majority of that pressure comes from other women.
These women need to remember that the ‘Feminist’ movement was a fight for choice, and to be treated equally and equitably when we make those choices. For the record I choose to do whatever is best for my family, when I made the choice to become a mother I made a choice to change my priorities. So right now what’s best for my family is for me work, and when we can afford it what’s best for my family will be for me to be at home and being involved in my kids lives and educations, perhaps I can revisit the career aspirations when they get older, I am only 25 after all. On the other hand I quite like the idea of being a lady of luxury ;).
We’ve decided it’s necessary for me to go back to work, hopefully it won’t be for long, maybe 6 months at most until the business is making enough money for Big Daddy to draw a decent wage. That being said I’m not entirely happy about it, to be honest I’m not even a little bit happy about it. Luckily my job pays high enough casual rates for me to only have to work weekends in order to pull in nearly as much as I did working full time before I took maternity leave but I’m still being a sook about it. Chunky Monkey is only four and half months old and is a pretty needy baby he nurses every 2 hours still and doesn’t like to be set down for very long and doesn’t really sleep during the day so it’s going to be difficult for Big Daddy at home with both him and the Mighty Midget. My work place also isn’t an ideal set up for a breastfeeding mum to pump and there’s not a lot that they can do about that. I’m a specialist youth worker at a residential treatment facility for high and complex needs young people and part of our role is constant supervision, our young people cannot be left unsupervised even for a short amount of time. We are often short staffed which means it’s common to do an entire 8 hour shift without even getting into the office for a toilet break if the clients are unsettled. I’ve made it clear that there needs to be someone around at all times to relieve me so I can pump at least once during my shift so I really really hope that they strive to maintain this.
I’ve received mixed reactions from female friends when I’ve talked about my desire to be a SAHM if we can afford it. People seem to assume that because I do have a tertiary education and a career that my priority would be to maintain that. In fact some think I’m mad for wanting to ‘throw away all those years of hard work’. They’re even more shocked and in some cases a little disgusted even when they hear that I’m happy to cook and clean and be with the kids while Big Daddy runs the business. It’s like I’m a traitor, I’m taken feminism backwards, the suffragettes fought so that women could have it all blah blah blah. I wonder if any other women in my position feel oppressed by feminism, by the pressure to ‘have it all’. What does ‘having it all’ even mean? What if to me ‘having it all’ means having the financial freedom to play with my kids all day, to be able to do the school run, practice my cooking and shower the man I love with care and affection? What if I would like to perfect the art of being a domestic goddess? (I’m far from achieving this BTW) Society seems to have a pretty negative view of SAHM’s, like they’re not quite as motivated and/or intelligent as us ‘career women’. It’s almost like the whole reverse racism phenomena, we’ve worked so hard to prove that we can do everything men can do and more and now there’s this incredible pressure to measure up and do EVERYTHING and the majority of that pressure comes from other women.
These women need to remember that the ‘Feminist’ movement was a fight for choice, and to be treated equally and equitably when we make those choices. For the record I choose to do whatever is best for my family, when I made the choice to become a mother I made a choice to change my priorities. So right now what’s best for my family is for me work, and when we can afford it what’s best for my family will be for me to be at home and being involved in my kids lives and educations, perhaps I can revisit the career aspirations when they get older, I am only 25 after all. On the other hand I quite like the idea of being a lady of luxury ;).
Monday 9 May 2011
Shout out to the man I love
I have to say I am a very lucky lady. I’ve read a lot of things recently from women who’s husbands are less than supportive and helpful. I also see lots of couples who simply don’t seem happy, they seem unable to communicate effectively they hold grudges over issues past, they’re critical and petty towards each other. I often watch these couples and wonder what it is that actually holds them together. I hear stories of men who demand that the house be clean and dinner on the table every evening when they get home from work despite the fact that ‘wifey’ has three kids under 5 to deal with every day. I wonder if these children get much playtime or cuddles.
I’m lucky because I have a rare man and I love him to the ends of the earth, I wonder how many women can honestly say that? My man is a real man for so many reasons and not all the obvious ones. Sure he has his faults, he has a less than savoury past in some aspects, he’s over weight, he can be a bit of a grouch and he’s addicted to electronic games. But we have recently entered a new, more mature and wonderful phase in our relationship. This phase has come around primarily due to changes that Big Daddy has made to his lifestyle, by his own choice. In the last 3 months he has quit smoking, drinking and gambling (he didn’t have a particular problem with the latter 2 just decided life was better without them), he has began pursuing a new business venture that has the potential to be super successful and he has made the decision to start losing weight. This seems like a lot to take on all at once, I can barely wrap my head around the idea of losing weight let alone the rest. You would think that he would be extremely stressed and grouchy with all of this added pressure but in fact he has been quite the opposite. I thought he was involved and helpful before but now he is like this superwomans superman.
On a typical day he gets up with our mighty midget at around 7am, gives him his breakfast and medication, brushes his teeth and plays with him downstairs while I feed the Chunky Monkey upstairs and have a sleep in. When I make it downstairs he usually heads to the cafe down the street to get me a coffee before coming home to get ready for work. He goes to work as a cook for the 4 hour lunch shift, then has snuggles with his boys or we go to the park, then he usually cooks us dinner and after dinner he hops in the shower with both the kids, then he puts the mighty midge to bed and reads him his stories while I feed the chunky monkey for the hundredth time that day.
He never complains if the house isn’t tidy or if I’m still in my pj’s or haven’t shaved my legs for a month. He rarely even complains that our intimate life is a little barren at times ( not non-existant just a little slower than it used to be). He constantly tells me that I’m beautiful even though Im a good 20-30 kgs heavier than when we met and he kisses and cuddles me every day without it being a preamble to anything else.
Sure there are things that infuriate me at times but how could I ever stay resentful or angry when he is a million shades of wonderful 98% of the time. I am totally myself with him and he supports me in everything I do and he’s not afraid of his own emotions.
I don’t want to sound smug but there’s no other point to this post other than to brag about how lucky I am. I promised I would post something positive and when I sat down and thought about all the good things in my life I began to realise how blessed I am.
I would love to hear from any other ladies who feel this way about their men, feel free to post in my comments. And for those ladies who read this who have had bad luck with men don’t lose hope , there really are some great ones out there I promise.
I should probably stop now because I’m serious when I say I don’t want to sound smug, I just hope Big Daddy realises how loved and appreciated he is, in fact I might hop off the computer now and go tell him.
Thanks for reading xoxo
I’m lucky because I have a rare man and I love him to the ends of the earth, I wonder how many women can honestly say that? My man is a real man for so many reasons and not all the obvious ones. Sure he has his faults, he has a less than savoury past in some aspects, he’s over weight, he can be a bit of a grouch and he’s addicted to electronic games. But we have recently entered a new, more mature and wonderful phase in our relationship. This phase has come around primarily due to changes that Big Daddy has made to his lifestyle, by his own choice. In the last 3 months he has quit smoking, drinking and gambling (he didn’t have a particular problem with the latter 2 just decided life was better without them), he has began pursuing a new business venture that has the potential to be super successful and he has made the decision to start losing weight. This seems like a lot to take on all at once, I can barely wrap my head around the idea of losing weight let alone the rest. You would think that he would be extremely stressed and grouchy with all of this added pressure but in fact he has been quite the opposite. I thought he was involved and helpful before but now he is like this superwomans superman.
On a typical day he gets up with our mighty midget at around 7am, gives him his breakfast and medication, brushes his teeth and plays with him downstairs while I feed the Chunky Monkey upstairs and have a sleep in. When I make it downstairs he usually heads to the cafe down the street to get me a coffee before coming home to get ready for work. He goes to work as a cook for the 4 hour lunch shift, then has snuggles with his boys or we go to the park, then he usually cooks us dinner and after dinner he hops in the shower with both the kids, then he puts the mighty midge to bed and reads him his stories while I feed the chunky monkey for the hundredth time that day.
He never complains if the house isn’t tidy or if I’m still in my pj’s or haven’t shaved my legs for a month. He rarely even complains that our intimate life is a little barren at times ( not non-existant just a little slower than it used to be). He constantly tells me that I’m beautiful even though Im a good 20-30 kgs heavier than when we met and he kisses and cuddles me every day without it being a preamble to anything else.
Sure there are things that infuriate me at times but how could I ever stay resentful or angry when he is a million shades of wonderful 98% of the time. I am totally myself with him and he supports me in everything I do and he’s not afraid of his own emotions.
I don’t want to sound smug but there’s no other point to this post other than to brag about how lucky I am. I promised I would post something positive and when I sat down and thought about all the good things in my life I began to realise how blessed I am.
I would love to hear from any other ladies who feel this way about their men, feel free to post in my comments. And for those ladies who read this who have had bad luck with men don’t lose hope , there really are some great ones out there I promise.
I should probably stop now because I’m serious when I say I don’t want to sound smug, I just hope Big Daddy realises how loved and appreciated he is, in fact I might hop off the computer now and go tell him.
Thanks for reading xoxo
Saturday 7 May 2011
Crap nights
I don’t ever remember being this sleep deprived with my first. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t wake up still tired, I’m pretty sure it was sometime before I fell pregnant. Last night was rough, there has got to be some unwritten natural law that causes the wheels to fall off everything the night before a big day. The mighty midget has been having nightmares lately he shouts out 3-4 times a night yelling ‘No” and calling for daddy. Daddy doesn’t always hear straight away because he snores like a gorilla and when I go to settle him down it doesn’t always work, he’s developed a huge attachment to daddy since his little brother was born, and has pulled away from me. This breaks my heart slightly but I’ll go into that more in a later post.
So anyway back to the unwritten natural law of crap nights. Big Daddy had to leave the house by 6am today for business meetings in the city (up to 2 hours away). Of course this meant the mighty midget, who is usually in bed and settled by 7, decided to play up til just after 8. He then wake up at least 3 times through the night. The chunky monkey, who is usually settled in for the night by 8, played up until 10. On top of this I woke at 11 unable to lay on my left side because my breast was so sore, I went downstairs to pump, this didn’t really help. Once I went back to bed it seemed that my body couldn’t regulate its temperature and I lay shivering and aching for about an hour. When I finally decided to hop in the shower my fingernails, toenails and lips were blue. It took nearly half an hour with the water running hot before I started to warm up and when I did I started throwing up. I went back to bed just before the Chunky Monkey woke up for a feed, I could barely sit up without wanting to throw up by this stage so we fed and fell asleep lying down and by the time we both woke I was o.k again, bizarre. Needless to say I was exhausted and facing having a tired and cranky 2 year old and a demanding and clingy nursling all day by myself. I this probably sounds like no big deal to single mums out there or mums with partners who work away but I’ve been very spoiled. Big daddy works in the cafe next door to our house 4 hours a day so I always have help in the morning and at dinner time, I’m very lucky.
As usual I stressed myself out unnecessarily because we got through it, both myself and the mighty midget were in foul moods from lack of sleep but we came to a shaky compromise on T.V time (we watched all 3 toy story movies) and I even managed to get us dressed and decently fed, and got some washing on and cleaned the kitchen. WOO! Go supermum lol so now I know I can survive when Big Daddy has to go on long business trips or work in the city although I’m going to have to organise more activities to do with the mighty midget because I couldn’t keep a clear conscience if I let him watch T.V all day all the time, the mummy guilt would go into overdrive (that too will be covered in a future blog post I’m sure).
I’ve just realised that so far all my blog posts have been about kind of negative parenting stuff so I pledge that the next one will be a happy story because surprisingly enough we do have more good days than bad .
So anyway back to the unwritten natural law of crap nights. Big Daddy had to leave the house by 6am today for business meetings in the city (up to 2 hours away). Of course this meant the mighty midget, who is usually in bed and settled by 7, decided to play up til just after 8. He then wake up at least 3 times through the night. The chunky monkey, who is usually settled in for the night by 8, played up until 10. On top of this I woke at 11 unable to lay on my left side because my breast was so sore, I went downstairs to pump, this didn’t really help. Once I went back to bed it seemed that my body couldn’t regulate its temperature and I lay shivering and aching for about an hour. When I finally decided to hop in the shower my fingernails, toenails and lips were blue. It took nearly half an hour with the water running hot before I started to warm up and when I did I started throwing up. I went back to bed just before the Chunky Monkey woke up for a feed, I could barely sit up without wanting to throw up by this stage so we fed and fell asleep lying down and by the time we both woke I was o.k again, bizarre. Needless to say I was exhausted and facing having a tired and cranky 2 year old and a demanding and clingy nursling all day by myself. I this probably sounds like no big deal to single mums out there or mums with partners who work away but I’ve been very spoiled. Big daddy works in the cafe next door to our house 4 hours a day so I always have help in the morning and at dinner time, I’m very lucky.
As usual I stressed myself out unnecessarily because we got through it, both myself and the mighty midget were in foul moods from lack of sleep but we came to a shaky compromise on T.V time (we watched all 3 toy story movies) and I even managed to get us dressed and decently fed, and got some washing on and cleaned the kitchen. WOO! Go supermum lol so now I know I can survive when Big Daddy has to go on long business trips or work in the city although I’m going to have to organise more activities to do with the mighty midget because I couldn’t keep a clear conscience if I let him watch T.V all day all the time, the mummy guilt would go into overdrive (that too will be covered in a future blog post I’m sure).
I’ve just realised that so far all my blog posts have been about kind of negative parenting stuff so I pledge that the next one will be a happy story because surprisingly enough we do have more good days than bad .
Monday 2 May 2011
Bibs and bobs
Ok so a quick (who am I kidding it's never quick) update on everything. Chunky Monkey (14 wk old) is still slowly recovering, cough is still hanging around and is waking him up at night a bit and he's still quite clingy but he's easily resettled so that's a bonus. The cough will probably stick around for at least a few weeks. Im going to try to introduce a blankie toy to help him self settle a bit more when he wakes up at night because often his only feeding for a minute or two then falling back asleep.
The mighty midget is still being difficult with his food but we're getting there slowly. The first day he completely refused his lunch and then when he was given the vegie bake for dinner he picked all of the pasta and cheese out of it and left the vegies. When he asked for his bottle that night he was told no and this didnt seem to bother him, he asked a few times but there were no tantrums. The following 3 days have been a mixed bag but with none of the tantrums that we've been expecting. Then last night we had roast pork mash and steamed vegies, he ate most of his pork, none of the mash and a few pieces of carrot and a couple of peas, which is a start, I think we need to start putting a bit less meat on his plate. Anyway it got close to bed time and he asked for his bottle, we told him no bottle but he could have his milk in one of his cups or drink bottles, as he had done a few nights ago. Well all hell broke loose, what followed was 20 minutes of the most dramatic tantrum throwing I have ever seen!! He threw himself to the floor kicking and screaming 'No Cup, Bottle' or just long drawn out 'Noooooooooooooo' he rolled around, he smacked daddy he headbutted the carpet he kicked at the walls, he literally screamed himself horse and caused himself to choke and gag, it was so distressing and frustrating but we perservered in ignoring it. Finally he realised he wasnt going to win this way so when he finally stopped screaming and just stood there looking at daddy, daddy asked him over for a cuddle and handed him his milk. He snuggled with daddy, then snuggled with me and calmly quietly drank his milk then went to bed as normal. Unbelievable, hopefully we won't have to go through another one of those now that he knows it won't work.
Any way thats about it for today, boring I know, I'll come back with something deeper next time but right now I'm going to camp on the lounge for a nanna nap while the mighty midge is at day care and chunky monkey is sleeping. xox
The mighty midget is still being difficult with his food but we're getting there slowly. The first day he completely refused his lunch and then when he was given the vegie bake for dinner he picked all of the pasta and cheese out of it and left the vegies. When he asked for his bottle that night he was told no and this didnt seem to bother him, he asked a few times but there were no tantrums. The following 3 days have been a mixed bag but with none of the tantrums that we've been expecting. Then last night we had roast pork mash and steamed vegies, he ate most of his pork, none of the mash and a few pieces of carrot and a couple of peas, which is a start, I think we need to start putting a bit less meat on his plate. Anyway it got close to bed time and he asked for his bottle, we told him no bottle but he could have his milk in one of his cups or drink bottles, as he had done a few nights ago. Well all hell broke loose, what followed was 20 minutes of the most dramatic tantrum throwing I have ever seen!! He threw himself to the floor kicking and screaming 'No Cup, Bottle' or just long drawn out 'Noooooooooooooo' he rolled around, he smacked daddy he headbutted the carpet he kicked at the walls, he literally screamed himself horse and caused himself to choke and gag, it was so distressing and frustrating but we perservered in ignoring it. Finally he realised he wasnt going to win this way so when he finally stopped screaming and just stood there looking at daddy, daddy asked him over for a cuddle and handed him his milk. He snuggled with daddy, then snuggled with me and calmly quietly drank his milk then went to bed as normal. Unbelievable, hopefully we won't have to go through another one of those now that he knows it won't work.
Any way thats about it for today, boring I know, I'll come back with something deeper next time but right now I'm going to camp on the lounge for a nanna nap while the mighty midge is at day care and chunky monkey is sleeping. xox
Thursday 28 April 2011
Vegetables
What is it with toddlers and vegetables?? The mighty midget (my 2 year old) used to eat anything that was put in front of him and he ate virtually adult sized meals for breakfast lunch and dinner, plus snacks. Then when he was 18 mths old he slowly but surely began cutting things out until he would only eat meat, pasta and biscuits, except for daycare days where he still eats anything they give him. Slowly at dinner he has started eating potato's again however even more worrying he is starting to eat very little at home at all. He still has a good breakfast of porridge and then fruit for morning tea but come lunch time he wont anything occasionally by 2pm I convince him to eat some yoghurt cheese and fruit but then again come dinner time he will eat a couple of small pieces of meat and potato, or a huge amount of pasta, or other nights nothing at all. He hasn't gained weight for at least the last 6 months. He still has plenty of wet and dirty nappies so I guess hes still healthy enough for the time being but I'm desperate to break him out of this habit.
Today I made cheesey vegie pasta bake for lunch, something he would have 2nd and 3rd helpings of at daycare. He is currently sitting at the table wailing and screaming I'm trying not to reward this behaviour by giving it attention. I keep having to go pick him up off the floor and sit him back at the table I'm desperately trying to keep my cool.
In half an hour I'll take the plate off the table but Toy Story will not be going back on the TV and there will be snacks before dinnertime. At dinner he will be given the meat that we cook and vegie pasta bake again, and we will follow the same routine i.e meal will stay for half an hour after everyone else is finished eating and if he doesn't eat again there will be no snacks or bottles to fill him up before bed.
I feel horrible and cruel but I cant let this refusal to eat go on long enough for him to start getting sick and losing weight, hopefully it only takes a day or two for him to get the message.
He is currently screaming at me at the top of his lungs, demanding his dummy, juice, his movie, to be cuddled...everything but the pasta and water in front of him, god this is hard. Wish me luck :(
Today I made cheesey vegie pasta bake for lunch, something he would have 2nd and 3rd helpings of at daycare. He is currently sitting at the table wailing and screaming I'm trying not to reward this behaviour by giving it attention. I keep having to go pick him up off the floor and sit him back at the table I'm desperately trying to keep my cool.
In half an hour I'll take the plate off the table but Toy Story will not be going back on the TV and there will be snacks before dinnertime. At dinner he will be given the meat that we cook and vegie pasta bake again, and we will follow the same routine i.e meal will stay for half an hour after everyone else is finished eating and if he doesn't eat again there will be no snacks or bottles to fill him up before bed.
I feel horrible and cruel but I cant let this refusal to eat go on long enough for him to start getting sick and losing weight, hopefully it only takes a day or two for him to get the message.
He is currently screaming at me at the top of his lungs, demanding his dummy, juice, his movie, to be cuddled...everything but the pasta and water in front of him, god this is hard. Wish me luck :(
Wednesday 27 April 2011
Leap of Faith
I have a friend who at least once a day calls me superwoman. She doesn't have kids yet but spends a lot of time with mine and is constantly stating 'I dont know how you do it'. My usual automatic reaction to this is to laugh it off and begin listing all the reasons I'm not superwoman e.g, house is dirty, I yelled at my two year old this morning, we spent more days in our pj's than not last week, my man come home from his work as a cook, to cook dinner 9 nights out of 10...the list goes on. My friend then points out that I'm breastfeeding a newborn and caring for a toddler, monumental tasks in themselves. I know shes right so why do I, and so many other mums out there, constantly look to my percieved shortcomings instead celebrating my full and happy life?
I think as mothers (and fathers) instead of revering and enjoying the journey of parenthood we spend much of the time embroiled in a 'crisis of faith', faith in ourselves and our abilities to 'get it right'. We constantly compare ourselves to others and battle internal conflict with how the 'experts' say we should do it, and what actually works for us. This becomes even more pronounced for parents of kids who get sick. I am one of those parents.
For us the journey of sickness began the moment my first son was born, he was nearly 6 weeks early and within minutes of being born and placed on my belly, pink and screaming healthily the nurses exchanged worried glances,said something about his breathing that I didnt quite catch, and whisked him off to intensive care with my fiance following close behind. I was left alone in the delivery suite for the better part of two hours, not allowed to move yet due to the amount of blood I'd lost in labor in a state of panic and barely controlled hysteria, 'where is my baby, is he o.k, would someone please come back and tell me what the hell is happening!! Finally the midwife came back and took me down to NICU, My fiance and I were told that our brand new bundle was going to be taken by chopper to a hospital with a bigger better equipped NICU as he needed to be put on C-PAP because he was working too hard to breathe and while he was o.k now he would go downhill quickly without specialist care. Then the questions began, had there been any complications during the pregnancy, had I smoke, drank etc etc. and they were just the ones asked by the doctors. In my own head it was worse, was it because Id fallen down the stairs when at 24 weeks, or because I'd flown to NZ and back at 31 weeks? The doctor said they would examine the placenta but would probably never know why Id gone into early labor, but I knew. I put on a brave face but inside I was a mess, only a few hours in and I'd already failed as a mother.
While in hospital I pumped milk like crazy and ended up with massive oversupply, I felt like this redeemed me somehow, I was finally doing something right and In the end he improved really quickly and after 12 days we had him home.Butthe problems didnt end there, within a few weeks of having him home he started feeding for ages and screaming like he was hungry again within half an hour, he was fussy at the breast and wouldnt settle at night, when the community health nurse came out for his first check he hadnt gained any weight, bad news considering he was already underweight. Eventually we discovered that my massive oversupply had begun to dwindle and my poor little man wasnt getting enough, I pumped and pumped to get it back but by 6 weeks he was on formula exclusively and I gave up. I know now that this happened due to a combination of poor and absent advice from health professionals but at the time it was another failure.
He picked up quickly again after that and I thought we were finally out of the woods, then winter hit, his first 2 winters we were in the doctors surgery every other week with croup, bronchitis, bronchiolitis, throat infections, ear infections, and most recently 1 month into his 3rd autumn he was hospitalised for 3 days with suspected asthma triggered by yet another bout of bronchiolits. Again the self doubt was there, was this happening because I failed at breastfeeding?
With my second son who is now 14 weeks old I though I'd finally gotten it right, he was born close to full term weighing in at a healthy 3.9 kg (about 8 pound 8 oz in the old scale) and he fed like a champion, Isought the support of online communities like http://theleakyboob.com/, I was happy and confident. Then 4 days ago he was struck with bronchiolitis that had hospitalised his brother only weeks earlier. What was I doin wrong?!
Back off to hospital we went and sure enough he was admitted and this where I finally get to my point. After 2 lonely, uncomfortable and sleepless nights and discussions with a doctor who wouldnt discharge us but seemed to push the idea of us being able to go home and just come back if he went downhill I took a leap of faith. I figured that I could do just as much if not more for him home and home we went.
I'm not going to lie, it was a long hard night, he was extremely unsettled, refused the breast at times when usually its all he ever wants and would only sleep briefly in his cot if the mattress was propped at nearly a 45 degree angle. So I did whatever it took we had long steamy baths, flushed his nose with saline, gave panadol, fed in a steamy bathroom, sang, massaged and when all else failed we sat upright in our nursing chair with his little head pressed to my bare chest and we rocked...and rocked...and rocked and when finally he slept we rocked some more. I dont know how many hours we spent in that chair but for the first time in my kids lives I didn't get frustrated angry or upset when he wouldn't sleep and as dawn broke and he continued to snore i found in myself a new peace and confidence in my role as mum. I decided that I am superwoman because I am mum and so is every other mum out there who loves her kids unconditionally and would take on all the evils of the universe to protect them. It doesn't matter if our houses are messy, if we make mistakes, if our kids are sickly or sports champions. Its time to stop doubting ourselves and stop giving power to those who judge by considering their judgements even for a second. We can catch vomit faster than a speeding bullet, leap mountains of washing in a single bound, and love beyond our ability to comprehend, and that ladies, is all that matters!
I think as mothers (and fathers) instead of revering and enjoying the journey of parenthood we spend much of the time embroiled in a 'crisis of faith', faith in ourselves and our abilities to 'get it right'. We constantly compare ourselves to others and battle internal conflict with how the 'experts' say we should do it, and what actually works for us. This becomes even more pronounced for parents of kids who get sick. I am one of those parents.
For us the journey of sickness began the moment my first son was born, he was nearly 6 weeks early and within minutes of being born and placed on my belly, pink and screaming healthily the nurses exchanged worried glances,said something about his breathing that I didnt quite catch, and whisked him off to intensive care with my fiance following close behind. I was left alone in the delivery suite for the better part of two hours, not allowed to move yet due to the amount of blood I'd lost in labor in a state of panic and barely controlled hysteria, 'where is my baby, is he o.k, would someone please come back and tell me what the hell is happening!! Finally the midwife came back and took me down to NICU, My fiance and I were told that our brand new bundle was going to be taken by chopper to a hospital with a bigger better equipped NICU as he needed to be put on C-PAP because he was working too hard to breathe and while he was o.k now he would go downhill quickly without specialist care. Then the questions began, had there been any complications during the pregnancy, had I smoke, drank etc etc. and they were just the ones asked by the doctors. In my own head it was worse, was it because Id fallen down the stairs when at 24 weeks, or because I'd flown to NZ and back at 31 weeks? The doctor said they would examine the placenta but would probably never know why Id gone into early labor, but I knew. I put on a brave face but inside I was a mess, only a few hours in and I'd already failed as a mother.
While in hospital I pumped milk like crazy and ended up with massive oversupply, I felt like this redeemed me somehow, I was finally doing something right and In the end he improved really quickly and after 12 days we had him home.Butthe problems didnt end there, within a few weeks of having him home he started feeding for ages and screaming like he was hungry again within half an hour, he was fussy at the breast and wouldnt settle at night, when the community health nurse came out for his first check he hadnt gained any weight, bad news considering he was already underweight. Eventually we discovered that my massive oversupply had begun to dwindle and my poor little man wasnt getting enough, I pumped and pumped to get it back but by 6 weeks he was on formula exclusively and I gave up. I know now that this happened due to a combination of poor and absent advice from health professionals but at the time it was another failure.
He picked up quickly again after that and I thought we were finally out of the woods, then winter hit, his first 2 winters we were in the doctors surgery every other week with croup, bronchitis, bronchiolitis, throat infections, ear infections, and most recently 1 month into his 3rd autumn he was hospitalised for 3 days with suspected asthma triggered by yet another bout of bronchiolits. Again the self doubt was there, was this happening because I failed at breastfeeding?
With my second son who is now 14 weeks old I though I'd finally gotten it right, he was born close to full term weighing in at a healthy 3.9 kg (about 8 pound 8 oz in the old scale) and he fed like a champion, Isought the support of online communities like http://theleakyboob.com/, I was happy and confident. Then 4 days ago he was struck with bronchiolitis that had hospitalised his brother only weeks earlier. What was I doin wrong?!
Back off to hospital we went and sure enough he was admitted and this where I finally get to my point. After 2 lonely, uncomfortable and sleepless nights and discussions with a doctor who wouldnt discharge us but seemed to push the idea of us being able to go home and just come back if he went downhill I took a leap of faith. I figured that I could do just as much if not more for him home and home we went.
I'm not going to lie, it was a long hard night, he was extremely unsettled, refused the breast at times when usually its all he ever wants and would only sleep briefly in his cot if the mattress was propped at nearly a 45 degree angle. So I did whatever it took we had long steamy baths, flushed his nose with saline, gave panadol, fed in a steamy bathroom, sang, massaged and when all else failed we sat upright in our nursing chair with his little head pressed to my bare chest and we rocked...and rocked...and rocked and when finally he slept we rocked some more. I dont know how many hours we spent in that chair but for the first time in my kids lives I didn't get frustrated angry or upset when he wouldn't sleep and as dawn broke and he continued to snore i found in myself a new peace and confidence in my role as mum. I decided that I am superwoman because I am mum and so is every other mum out there who loves her kids unconditionally and would take on all the evils of the universe to protect them. It doesn't matter if our houses are messy, if we make mistakes, if our kids are sickly or sports champions. Its time to stop doubting ourselves and stop giving power to those who judge by considering their judgements even for a second. We can catch vomit faster than a speeding bullet, leap mountains of washing in a single bound, and love beyond our ability to comprehend, and that ladies, is all that matters!
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