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
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
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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