Tag Archives: motherhood

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I was too scared to publish this a year ago. I shouldn’t have been.

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I wrote this post a whole year ago (March 2012) when the Little Mister was about four months old. I just found it saved as a draft today. I remember why I didn’t publish it now. I was scared that I would reveal that I wasn’t a perfect parent and that I might be inviting criticism of my parenting abilities. At the time I was very nervous about what other people would think of me as a mum. I cared too much and I gave toxic people/books/expectations too much power over how I felt about myself. I read it now and I’m cool with it! I even have some new thoughts to add to the theme of this post! I might start digging back through my drafts every now and then – have a look at what I was too scared to post and reassess.

I always knew that having a baby would be one giant learning curve – probably the steepest, most Mount Everest-est one there is. I anticipated learning sooooo much about having a child. Things like their needs, their physical development, the impact it has on your life as a person who didn’t used to be a parent, the joys, the tough moments. What to do when they don’t feel well. How to figure out what their cries mean. Stuff like that.

I am constantly surprised by how many things there are to discover about my Little Mister. He changes literally every single day and there are constant new challenges, milestones and celebrations.

One thing that shocks me is that I didn’t really think too much about what I would learn about myself. That learning curve seems just as steep and full of crazy revelations (lots of which are fantastic and pleasantly surprising may I add).

Let’s just say it took having a baby for some of my … issues to come to light. Well, for me at least. I am sure those who know me in real life would have figured it out years ago and are just waiting for Slow Learner Kez to get around to it!

Apparently I have a fear of being seen to “make a fuss” or waste anyone’s time with trivial matters. No, I never thought that would be true about me in a million years. Turns out it’s not a problem when it truly is about trivial matters (I can annoy you no end quite happily if that’s the case), but I have this thing where, when it isn’t a waste of time, when it IS really important – that’s when I decide I might waste peoples’ time or seem like a drama queen. You know – those occasions where it’s not just warranted, but necessary.

I don’t even know if I’m making any sense, but please try to follow…

Case/s in point:

I didn’t call anyone about possibly being in labour until I was almost halfway. I timed my contractions, just you know, on a whim out of interest and when it appeared that my contractions were 4 minutes apart, followed by 2 minutes apart, followed by a painful period where it seemed there was no beginning or end to each one…then I decided to get serious about going to hospital. The baby was delivered 3 hours after I arrived at hospital and it turned out I had a serious infection and needed an emergency C-section ASAP. Yep, that “kind of fever” I had – didn’t wanna bug anyone. Didn’t want to call the hospital in case it was a waste of the busy staff members’ time. Didn’t want to interrupt my parents’ nice weekend. Didn’t want to call my husband’s work number in case I disturbed him at work or annoyed his colleagues.

Yep. Ridiculous.

Of course I was very lucky with the outcome we had. Although the Little Mister and I weren’t super healthy at first, we were OK, alive and going to recover and enjoy each other.

Next time? I’d bug the hell out of everyone at the first sign of a fever or any crampy contractions. What’s the worst that could happen?

This last week the Little Mister was reacting a bit badly to his four month old immunisations. He’d had a slight temperature for the first couple of days (treated well with paracetemol and lots of love), become constipated and was quite gripey in the tummy area. I’d worked on those symptoms making sure he was hydrated and introduced some fruit puree to his diet (which he was so ready for and loved). I massaged his little belly and I gave him a break between being fed and having play time. I’d noticed some little lumps around his bottom, but thought perhaps they were maybe haemorroids or a temporary reaction to his needles (seriously – all bets are off after immunisations – so many crazy things happen to their poor little bodies).

I didn’t want to be that parent who rushes to the doctor over every single little thing. See, I didn’t want to be a silly time waster. Of course things got worse and the rush to the GP happened at 4:30pm on a Friday afternoon – I must have been reeeal popular! I felt heartbreakingly awful when I found out he had an infection that was only going to get worse. I could have sucked it up, seen someone about it earlier and it might not have got so bad that he was crying whenever my husband or I sat him on his bottom. Lesson learnt. He needed anti-biotics and if I’d left it any longer, we would have had a trip to emergency at the hospital.

In all of this, I ignored my gut feeling and let my fear of wasting someone’s time or appearing stupid/paranoid get in the way. I didn’t even know that stuff was an issue for me until this past week!

I was completely and utterly unprepared for all the revelations I’d make about who I am when I had a little one of my own. I am certainly going to work on this because it’s one thing for me to be completely stubborn, proud and concerned about my ego when it’s just myself to worry about, but it’s another thing if I let it get in the way of my baby’s care. I won’t make that mistake again (I hope)!

In the year since I wrote this, I have actually taken my own advice (would you believe it?). I’m no longer afraid of being impolite or inconvenient. My son’s health matters and so does mine :) The worst that can happen is somebody says, “No.” Whoopee-do. Eventually someone will say ‘yes’.

I’ve made doctor’s appointments (why does everything always happen on a Friday afternoon?!) where I’ve had to insist that they fit me in because I’m not just some whining mum with a silly complaint. I know something’s not right. I’m not rude and I’m not inconsiderate. I show my appreciation when someone has to make special changes to accommodate me. I just refuse to let my self consciousness get in the way of the care of my child. I’m proud of how I’ve grown.

It was scary having a little baby. My first little, real, right there in my arms, baby. I put so much pressure on myself to get everything right, despite not having a clue! I would research everything to death and worry all the time about the tiniest decisions. The worst thing I did was let my fear of “other people” take over. What if this person thinks I’m wasting their time? What if that person thinks I handled this wrong? What if people think I’m just some paranoid new mum who thinks she’s all important and sh*t? Pffft. I AM important. My gut feeling and my parental instinct IS important. Too bad what other people might say. Besides, they’ll just give me something to rant about on my blog ;)

Have you listened to your gut feeling (and taken action) lately? How did it work out for you?

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Murdering Monday-itis. My inspiration for the week.

OK, so I haven’t blogged since last Monday’s post that was full of inspirational tid bits. I was going to skip this week’s little motivational interlude, because I thought that it would make my blog all boring, like it’s all filler and no killer. I don’t want my blog to be all about pretty little inspirational quotes stolen from the internet all the time!  However, the ideas I had for blog posts this past week have all just seemed too…big…for me to eloquently form into written word, so I’ve suffered from a little bit of writer’s block. I’m working on it!!

However, Monday-itis kicked in (I start the week tired after getting normal human person sleep during the weekends) and I thought, f*ck it. I need some happy.

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OK, so I spent most of the weekend getting all excited about what I can only describe as ‘sh*t I saw on Pinterest’. I went batsh*t crazy over home decor ideas and my husband was very supportive of me rampaging around the house, purging it of junk and addressing my ‘floordrobe’ issues. It was probably in his best interests to be supportive as I’m not known for being a domestic goddess of any description. More like a domestic…well, whatever the opposite of a goddess is, really. I seriously lay awake on Saturday night drooling over my Pinterest app, while my husband slumbered away, oblivious that I was plotting and scheming.

Anyway, to get to the point, the picture above of a beach themed centrepiece is something I want to have achieved by the end of this week. I think that even with a toddler in tow, I can be a little bit crafty. I am sick of staring at the glass bowl on our coffee table (in the lounge room – somewhere the Little Mister cannot get his grubby hands all over everything), that has four pathetic tea light candles in it, just sitting on some ugly brown pebble things because they don’t float anymore on account of the fact that the water evaporated and I was too lazy to clean and refill it. It’s GROSS.

Doing something for my house will lift my mood for the week and I think I’ve set myself an achievable task that won’t kill my morale in the making of it! :P

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Sixteen and a half months into this whole parenting thing, I have finally figured out how to not give a f*ck about how perfect I seem as a mum to the judgey eyes of the outside world and just get on with being the best I can be. It may not be as perfect as someone else might be (or seem to be from the outside), but I’m cool with that. I’m happy to be a good mum, not an impossibly stressed out person whose ‘perfect’ facade might break at any given moment because I’m scared of being found out as only being ‘good’. I just want all my friends to know that they’re really really good mums and I love them because they’re not perfect. It’s comforting.

Besides, perfect is a little creepy, don’t you think? :)

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I think that being happy is a choice. I especially need to make this choice very early on a Monday morning!! How I choose to feel in those first minutes of the day can really affect my whole day and I need to focus more on what I can achieve and what good things I will experience, rather than thinking about how tired I am and how annoying it is that my husband gets up so early for work (disturbing me without fail – not entirely his fault – it’s how our house is designed). I need to not think about all the hours in the day ahead that I will have to try to get through. I need to ask myself what awesome things I can do? Can this be the magical day where I get all the dishes done, some washing, arrange an outing with the Little Mister, tick something off the ever growing to do list? What blessings can I focus on? What can I look forward to?

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I think that sometimes it’s easy to get all overwhelmed by the big picture. I know I get like this with my housework and my dreams of creating the home I really want to be in (sure we’ve lived here five years – shhhhh). So I’m gonna start with that damn centrepiece and who knows where it will lead :) Same goes for being a parent. Same goes for being a mother. I don’t have to get everything done all at once. Just chip away and we’ll get there.

Hope you all have a happy Monday and I will try to blog about some other stuff soon – can’t be all inspirational ALL the time. What do you think I am? Haha.

xo

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FAQ: So what have you been up to lately?

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Hmm. Whenever somebody asks me this question in person, I get into some kind of brain fart situation and I can’t think of a thing. Anyone else do that? My answer just ends up being something awkward along the lines of, “Not much. Just parenting and living and stuff. Y’know.”

Yeah. I know.

So I am going to try to summarise it all in writing for you, because I’m sure you really really care, and also I can’t think of anything else to write about this week that actually makes sense.

So…
I spend a lot of time walking in circles around my house. Seemingly aimlessly. So there’s that. Besides my usual insanity, this is often done with my pinky finger attached to a chubby little toddler hand. The Little Mister has decided that he loves long strolls with the lady of his choice (until some time around puberty I imagine that’s me). He hasn’t figured out where it is he would like to go, but it’s all good as long as he has his walking buddy. Each time he takes a break by plopping onto his nappy padded bum, he then reaches up for my hand and it starts again. So that’s about an hour of each day (at least) accounted for.

I have also been very busy planning each trip I take to the toilet. I’m surprised I haven’t had to write it down in my day planner, along with a long list of reminders of the very detailed process. If my husband is home it’s slightly easier. It involves loudly announcing, “I’m going to the toilet. ALONE.”
This is my husband’s cue to intercept the Little Mister before he catches up to me and busts through the door action movie hero style, to catch the bad guy (that’s me – guilty as charged for not inviting a toddler to watch me do my business). If I am alone, I have to announce subtly that I am leaving for the toilet. I then have to gently walk away down the corridor. I have to shut the door, jiggling the handle just right so it’s harder for a little monster to open. I then have to pee, wipe and flush in record time before I am caught up with. If I want to do number 2s (sorry for the TMI but I poop just like everyone else), this process involves me turning on the kids’ TV channel, praying it’s a bright, colourful show that will keep the Little Mister’s attention and sneaking off like a ninja. Whoever says that letting the TV babysit your child for even a minute is evil, because it will rot their brains, can look after my child when I’ve gotta ‘go’. Seriously. I just have to do what works. Although, occasionally it doesn’t work. Sometimes I get a crying child outside the toilet door. I have been known to spend time doing my business and singing kids’ songs at the same time. I’m glad we have no neighbours on that side of the house, because I can tell you, they would think I was a lunatic. I mean, we know I kind of am, but SHHHH. IT’S A SECRET. I once sang “If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands…” (that’s multi tasking for you) and when I finally emerged from my hidey hole, I found the Little Mister, tears streaming down his face (all that awful parental rejection does that to you) while pathetically clapping his hands. Aw, it breaks your heart.

Hmm, what else can I tell you? I actually occasionally do do (haha I said “do do”) something interesting, but I usually forget this when someone asks me what I’ve been up to lately. I give my standard awkward answer and then everyone (including me) thinks I’m boring. Last Thursday I was lucky enough to attend a luncheon where Mia Freedman was the guest speaker at Bistro Guilluame. Mia (Ha! Look at me acting like we’re on a first name basis!) was everything I hoped she would be in person. Bubbly, candid, inspiring and so down to earth that for a split second I honestly thought we could be friends if I just spent a few minutes stroking her hair and talking about motherhood with her. If you haven’t heard of Mia (Shock! Horror!), then you should first reassess your friendship with me, and after you and I agree that we will overlook that transgression, you would know that Mia has been editor of the Australian Cosmo, Cleo and Dolly magazines. She now runs a very successful website called Mamamia, which features amazing blog posts by a diverse bunch of contributors who really get me inspired and inform me about the world around me (outside of my Living with the Little Mister bubble)! It makes me laugh, cry and really think deeply about topical issues. Have I raved enough yet? So that was really really fun. I now want to be a power blogger…or a lady who lunches. Can’t decide. Either way, it was a great day out with my friend Bec where I could eat with both hands and concentrate on full conversations. Hooray!
Check this out, y’all:

I’m a little embarrassed by how excited I was to have my tweet replied to. I sound like such a tragic fangirl. I just have to put it out there: Mamamia and Mia’s work have really been a sanity saver since I became an Awesomely Unprepared Mummy! I’m not too cool to admit it ;)

We had weather again in these parts. Last night I was very outraged when I couldn’t hear the television over the wind and rain. I spent ages thinking deeply about the bad acoustics in my living room (our backs to a big window which lets in outside noise) and frantically adjusting the volume up and down. My husband had to almost remove pry the remote from my hands because I kept pausing the live TV (my new DVR IS AMAZING) each time a gust of wind passed by. However, things got a little worse when we went to bed (it’s always just as you snuggle down and you’re almost peacefully slumbering) and the fence started flapping about. So there’s something new for my poor husband to fix. He had to dismantle the flappy bits (haha flappy bits – I’m juvenile) while only wearing a pair of boxer shorts and an old work shirt. Well, he didn’t have to only be wearing those items, but the point is, he volunteered himself for the job and I couldn’t be more grateful. When he returned to bed it was like sleeping next to a very dejected ice cube.

Other than that, I dressed the Little Mister up as a cowboy for one of his friends’ birthday parties. He drank half the pool at swimming lessons (he gets really excited when his face gets near the water and opens his mouth really wide in a look of enthusiastic awe – EVERY TIME). He’s been teething. He points at things so I can tell him what they are, but sometimes I think he just points at one thing when he’s looking at something else and it’s all really just a big confusing game – he’ll probably spend the first few years of his life thinking that a dog is called a wall and a light is called a sippy cup.

It’s not the most glamourous, high powered kind of life, but I like it :)

What have you been up to lately?

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So I didn’t really think that through…

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So on Wednesday, we took the Little Mister to have his 12 month immunisations (having a birthday isn’t always that fun). As usual we rocked up to the local family health clinic where we waited to have his name called out. Of course, just like every other time, the little man was super happy, talkative and cute. I was feeling guilty (and dreading the days ahead) and my husband was…well, he was there. He knows I need my support person :)

On that day, three needles were to be administered.

“Would you like two in the arms and one in the leg, or two in the legs and one in the arm?” the nurse asked.

My husband and I looked at each other, like “WTF? It’s all bad.”

But we muttered something like, “Um…you decide?”

Two in the legs and one in the arm it was. The Little Mister was such a good boy. I distracted him with a rattle and a maraca (why do nurses always have maracas?), and he only cried a little. We gave him a dummy and big cuddles, which he responded to very well as the nurse reiterated what the side effects might be. Mostly that he’d be grumpy as f*ck for a couple of days and that we would be waiting in complete and utter suspense to find out if he would get cold and flu symptoms anywhere from 5-12 days later (it’s been 2 – I’m still waiting and hoping we’ll sail through it). Fun times.

Fast forward to today and the Little Mister was (over)due for a haircut. That kid has won the hair lottery (he probably won’t thank us for it later). He has two parents with very fast growing hair, the volume of his dad’s hair and the straight, softness of mine. This all equals a massive head full of voluminous, but straight hair that goes in many directions. Until today, I had procrastinated about getting his hair cut. I had felt like I had all the time in the world, but it all caught up with us. I knew that the day it started to look a bit like an 80s mullet, something had to be done.

So…what did we do? Here’s my first mistake: Taking the Little Mister to sit in a chair while a lady he doesn’t know stood behind him with a sharp implement. Yeah, I’m thinking big time flashbacks. He started crying and looking so sad. He spent half of his haircut gripping me around the neck in a hug that said, “Don’t let me die!!! I’m tooooo young!!! Not again!!!!”

The hairdresser was a lovely lady and she did a great job. She mentioned that she had three sons, so I guess she knew the drill. She kept her cool and got the job done as calmly and quickly as possible. I kept telling the Little Mister that she was nice and she wouldn’t hurt him, but he was reliving his own little nightmare. That kid was back in the trenches, man. It was tough!

My second mistake?

Trying to distract him with a rattle. Yeah. You can see where that’s going. Same thing I tried when we TRICKED HIM the other day so a strange lady with a sharp implement could jab at him THREE TIMES. His accusatory/terrified face said it all.

Sigh. I feel like I wasn’t quite on top of my parenting game today.

I backed out of the salon saying, “Sorry! He’s normally so great in these situations! I don’t know what happened.”

Of course it dawned on me as soon as we were back in the car. Picture the biggest face-palm EVERRRRR. DUH, KEZ!

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So, learn from my mistake. Do not take your child for their first proper salon haircut two days after immunisations.

You’re welcome.

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It was just one of those days.

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Do you ever have “one of those” days? The ones where strange things keep happening and you start to take it all a little personally? As a parent, I have those days on and off all the time. The exact same events could play out on any given day and you can laugh it off and think, “Well, that was hilarious! Carry on, then!” and on another day those same events can feel like utter crap, making you doubt everything you believed about yourself as a parent.

A couple of weeks ago I noticed on my twitter and facebook feeds that other baby mamas like myself were struggling from day to day. They felt awful because someone (just the one nosy person) had told them their new awesome way of getting their baby to sleep (which was working and not harming the baby at all) was wrong and would scar them for life, or they simply had one of  THOSE days where they just felt like they weren’t doing their best. This made me feel really sad. Why do we do this to ourselves?!

I wrote this (a shortened version) on my Facebook page that same day:

YOU ARE AWESOME, YOU LOVE YOUR CHILD, YOU ARE DOING YOUR BEST and that is GOOD ENOUGH. YOU ARE LEARNING AND GROWING JUST LIKE YOUR BUB. BE KIND TO YOURSELF AND TELL NOSEYPARKER KNOW IT ALLS TO GET BACK IN THEIR BOXES (even if only in your head to make you feel better hehe). I hope this reaches those who really needed to see it today xxx

It’s something I need to remind myself of all the time.

The other day my child tried to eat a dead fly. It was a big one too. I got to him just in time (before it ceased to be in one piece anymore). I had a vague recollection of spraying an annoying fly a few days earlier with my favourite brand of bug spray…and I felt awful. Have I poisoned my child? Do I find the number for poison control? Where did he find it? Could it have died of natural causes? WHY DID I SPRAY A FLY IN THIS HOUSE? THAT’S DANGEROUS NOW. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER. Of course I just laughed about it on Facebook later, but I felt a bit crap first. Of course the Little Mister was fine in the end (thanks for asking) and I learnt a couple of things: 1. Be more conscious of the chemicals I use around the house, and 2. The Little Mister really doesn’t like it when I won’t let him eat flies.

The Little Mister has been practicing “walking” with me around the house as I hold his hand, and that same day was no different. Except…he stopped to take a rest against a wall, then obviously a bit tired from all the new skill learning he bopped his head on that wall and bruised his forehead. I felt bad, like I should have seen it coming. He only cried a bit and was very good about it, wanting a cuddle. I had doubts. Had I put him in a position where he could hurt himself? Was it my fault for not catching him quick enough? I tried to forgive myself and move on.

Later that day, I took the Little Mister out to a cafe to meet my mum for lunch. As he’s now such a big boy (just turned one), I thought it would be fun to order him his own little meal off the kids’ menu, instead of feeding him something I’d brought from home. We ordered scrambled eggs on toast for him and poached eggs on toast for myself. The order was botched and his pint sized order came poached, while mine was scrambled. We switched the eggs from one plate to the other and didn’t think anything more on the matter. I hadn’t realised the hot yolk from my poached egg was still on his plate and the Little Mister (being so excited to eat what the grown ups were having) reached out for some yummy scrambled egg a bit too quickly. The heat of the leftover poached yolk hurt his little hand and he started screaming bloody murder, looking so shocked and in pain (there seriously is nothing like the pain of hot egg yolk running down your arm). My mum realised what had happened before I did and we started to fix the problem, but I felt awful. I hadn’t thought about it in advance. I’d been so excited for him being a ‘big boy’ that I hadn’t concentrated on how hot the food was and froze when he cried instead of having my wits about me so I could identify the problem quickly. He got over it, with a tiny little burn on his mouth, next to his lip (which didn’t seem to bother him) and he LOVED his eggs and toast once they were properly cooled to the right temperature. My mum reassured me that these things happen and that he was OK in the end and that’s all that matters. Perhaps he might have even learnt the difference between hot and cold (albeit the hard way), and that we all let our guard down occasionally, even if we’re good parents.

Again, I had to choose to think of it as a story to remember and something to learn from. I won’t make that mistake again and the Little Mister has actually started to approach his meals a little more cautiously when he knows they’ve been warmed for him. I now check more carefully when I serve his food (even though before the incident I usually did anyway).

As the day went on, I needed to look for a couple of wardrobe basics (it’s a long story about a stay at home mum who only wears one outfit – ever) and having my mum there meant that I could take some time to try things on in the changerooms. The Little Mister loved the bad music playing in the clothing stores and was rocking out, dancing and nodding his head to the side in time with the music (stupidly cute). He loved being with his Nanna Unprepared and I managed to find a couple of dresses that made me feel a little less frumpy and boring. I realised that he had long forgiven and forgotten, that he was fine and that I should be kind to myself, perhaps even laughing about what a day he/we had had. We all have one of those days occasionally, right? Everything had turned out OK in the end. We had survived.

Could I have done better? Sure. It’s a full on job looking after a one year old. You have to be on the ball every minute of the day and it’s exhausting. There’s always something new to worry about. To childproof against. Sometimes you catch yourself staring into space for the teensiest of moments, before reality pulls you back as your child tries to climb inside the kitchen bin or the television (even though it’s not even turned on – much).

I think that it’s just a matter of remembering to be kind to yourself. At the end of the day, you’ve done your best and you’ve learnt some lessons along the way. It’s about trusting in yourself as a good, caring, loving and proactive parent – remembering that you’re not just turning into a Bad Parent just because you’re not perfect. The fact that you want to be a good parent and you’re taking those little not-so-perfect moments quite seriously (while being able to laugh or blog about it later) means you probably already are.

We also need to be kind to each other. Support our friends who’ve had a bad day. They already feel bad. They don’t need us telling them just how bad to feel or giving advice that is designed to show our judgement, rather than to actually lift that person up and make them feel better.

We’ve all made small(er) scale, completely accidental mistakes that turned out OK in the end. We’ve all thought, “Wow – close call. Thank goodness it went our way.”

Forgive yourself and don’t let other peoples’ throwaway comments wreck your whole day. I bet hours later while you’re feeling really awful about what they’ve said, they’ve forgotten they even said it. Do what works for you and always follow your instincts. Trust your own judgement.

We just have to not beat ourselves up over it all. Every week is a new week. Every day is a new day. Every hour is a new hour. Every minute is a new minute. It’s never too late to put our big girl pants back on and try again.

Now I just have to take my own advice ;)

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Happy 1st birthday, my Little Mister!

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I cannot believe it. My Little Mister is exactly 1 year old at the stroke of 9:28pm tonight. That was the moment he was dramatically pulled from my poor insides in a very hasty emergency C-Section on a Sunday night. He is now considered to be a toddler (despite not walking quite yet). I HAVEN’T EVEN READ ANY BOOKS ABOUT THIS TODDLER THING. I only just got my head around the whole “what’s with that whole having a baby thing?” question. Damn! Is there such a book as “What to Expect when You’re Expecting…a Toddler”? If so, I’m finding it!!

Anyway, enough of my disbelief and denial. It’s really happening. It is really my little baby’s first anniversary of being outside my womb (I hate the word “womb” for reasons I don’t even understand).

Just last weekend, he took a couple of steps unassisted towards me. Today he tried really hard again and has been wanting to practice – bless him! Soon he’ll be WALKING (or so I’m told haha)! Of course, my husband rushed over when I started yelling out that it was happening, but the poor bloke missed the moment by probably less than a second!

We’ve had the special first birthday party, where the Little Mister was treated like a king by our families (he just about lost his sh*t when we sang Happy Birthday to him) and I can’t believe that one big moment I looked forward to for so long was over in just a few hours (you know – to accommodate for his naps of course)! That evening I sat on the couch with my husband, just shaking my head at how fast that time has gone. It feels so surreal!

I even made the Little Mister’s cupcakes, which made me feel very good about myself and I may have taken a few too many photos of them because I wanted to document the fact that I actually baked for my son’s birthday!! Go me!!

So, I’d like you to meet my Little Mister, aged 1 year old today(!)…

Born: 6th November, 2011 at 9:28pm
Astrological Sign: Scorpio

Likes:

Bananas. Things with wheels on them. Stolen hot chips [he's only allowed a couple which just KILLS him]. Floor biscuits [don't ask]. Sleeping [that's my boy]. Giraffe blankie. Dummy – his or otherwise. New sippy cup with a straw [Mummy finally picked out a good one]. Daddy’s special healthy sausage rolls. In the Night Garden [Heaven help us]. Bright colours. Dogs. Music – almost any kind. Bath time. Cuddles. Long walks on the beach.

Dislikes:

Watching other people eating. Staying still [we've got a wiggler]. Being told he can’t have [insert 'stolen' item here]. Mulberries. Falling over [don't we all]. People walking away without permission. Teething. Losing a dummy out of the side of the cot. Trying to sleep without Giraffe blankie. Not being paid attention to [I see a future in the dramatic arts]. Doing anything on cue [waving, clapping etc].

Activities:

Making a ruckus at swimming lessons. Trying to master a great escape at Rhyme Time in the library. Sucking up to the lovely lady who runs Rhyme Time (and making sure every other bub and mummy knows he’s the teacher’s pet – how embarrassment). Squawking. Smiling. Giggling. Games of peek-a-boo. Busting through closed doors using nothing but body weight. Bouncing until Mummy’s arms almost fall off. Stealing food. Trying to touch the TV. Trying to climb into the TV. “Walking” while Mummy or Daddy hold his hands. Raiding the Tupperware cupboard in the kitchen. Trying to stick his head into the freezer/fridge. Posing for photos. Playing expertly with toys when he thinks no-one’s looking [when being watched he dumbs it down for our benefit]. Talking [not sure which language yet]. Going for a ride in the laundry basket. Keeping Mummy company in the toilet using aforementioned door busting skills [yep]. Crawling into small spaces.

Traits (mostly the positive ones – I’m biased):

Has a wicked sense of humour – finds almost anything funny. Loves to socialise. Very curious – has to know how something works. Give him a toy with wheels and he’ll turn it upside down to investigate. Play with a string puppet in front of him and he’ll look at your hands and how you’re controlling it, rather than at the puppet. Will choose human interaction over toys any time of the day [can result in clinginess sometimes]. Doesn’t hold a grudge [at this point]. Lets you know if you’ve got something wrong, but is so very obliging and thankful when you get it right. Affectionate.
Is almost always happy. A little bit clumsy [he got it from his mama]. Loves to entertain. Can be restless and want to just get up and play, but is also placid when you really need him to be. Has a really easygoing side to him, but also a nervous, anxious side which makes him cautious. Has all of his own hair. Knows how to drive a musical dolphin.

What a catch!

Milestones:

He’s not quite walking yet, but he’s cruising along furniture and taking tentative steps (when he doesn’t over think it and land back on his bottom where he feels safer). He’s eating almost anything that can go soft in his mouth but is not ready for raw vegetables (think carrots etc) or a steak haha. He is both tall and heavy for his age (I’m OK with that). He is wearing (Australian) size 1 clothes and (Australian) size 6 shoes. He can deliberately say “Dad” or “Daddy”, “Mum” or “Mama”.

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To be honest, I wasn’t exactly sure how I wanted to structure this blog post, so I thought that just recording where my little man is at right now seemed appropriate. All I know is that being his mum is so much fun and I have learnt so much about life and about myself since knowing him.

It’s quite a bittersweet day for me, because I know I won’t ever get this special past year with him back, but I am so excited for what is to come. A whole new world where he starts walking, talking and becoming all grown up!

Happy birthday, Little Mister! I love you so so much that my heart often feels like it’s going to burst. Here’s to shopping in a whole new section at department stores, confusion over how to wean you from the bottle, the extra childproofing once you’re walking and the lead up to the Terrible Twos!!

xoxo

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1 year of parenting. What I didn’t expect.

In another week, I will have been a parent for a whole entire year. It’s nuts. I have no idea what’s happened. Seriously, what just happened??

In some ways it feels like it’s been a decade, and in other ways it feels like it’s been, oh…about 30 seconds. Blink and you miss it. That kind of feeling. I just don’t understand how it’s actually possible to fit that much craziness into only a year! 12 months of everything from taking a brand new baby home from hospital, to watching him grow and develop into an almost toddler and worrying about every little thing in between!

So in the spirit of my blog’s name (Awesomely Unprepared), I will celebrate my year of parenting by sharing with you the things that I was Awesomely Unprepared for over the past year :)

OK, so I’ll get the mushy one out of the way. I was not prepared for the ridiculous love that I would feel for my own offspring. I mean, you hear about it, read about it and have an understanding or imagining of what it might be like, but until it happens, you can never really know it. At least it was like that for me. I would do anything to protect my Little Mister. I have become like a fierce mama *insert powerful beast/dinosaur/thing you saw in a movie of your choosing here* and I am constantly surprised by the things that make me feel brave and courageous when it comes to doing right by my Little Mister. Of course, with this ridiculous baby love comes the hot mess that is me every time I see a news story about babies. Also any movie about babies. Any documentary about babies. Any picture of a baby. Basically anything that seems like it could be to do with babies. It can be happy stuff or it can be sad stuff. It can be ANYTHING and suddenly I have tears in my eyes and I’m doing that snotty blubbery thing. I now know what people mean when they say that their love for their child gets them through something. When something happens to a child that is a parent’s worst nightmare, I actually truly understand how horrific that really is. Don’t even get me started on the starving children of the world or I might not be able to finish this blog post.

I’ll be honest. Before I was pregnant and even during, I scoffed at the idea that mums can get all clucky when their first child grows out of infanthood. I thought, really?! Why would you want to go back to that whole crazy stage of life? Why are you looking back wistfully?? Do you really remember how crazy that time of life was?! Don’t you want your child to grow up and be a great, healthy, independent being?? But now that the Little Mister is almost one year old, I kind of understand it. I guess that’s how second, third, and nineteenth kids are conceived. Don’t worry, everyone. I’m not that clucky yet – I have a lot of stuff to forget before I can go there again! I just now realise that as my little baby gets bigger, smarter and is even almost walking, he’s going to soon just look like any other grotty kid on the playground instead of my beautiful, sweet smelling fluffy haired cuddle bug – although, he’ll be my beautiful grotty kid. So, I admit it. I get it now. Geez! In saying that, I am so excited for what the future brings (even if it sometimes scares the living daylights out of me)!

I’m not as cool as I thought I would be. There. I said it. I always pictured myself as being a really responsible, good parent (able to do both discipline and fun) who just also happened to be super awesomely cool too. Like, I thought I would wear really awesome clothes and not really change a thing once the Little Mister popped out. While I do play him great music and I haven’t turned into a Stepford wife/mum (well there was little chance of that haha), I do dress differently. I do drive a station wagon style vehicle (you’ll find that calling it a sports wagon and putting cool stickers on it doesn’t really disguise it at all but keep telling yourself that – I’m just a whisker away from having those awful stick figure families stuck to the back window). I don’t wear short skirts, bikinis, or show off my cleavage (what’s left of it). The sad truth is that not only has my body changed, but so has my attitude. I’ve become all, “Is that practical?”

Booooring.

Also? Babies cost a lot of money. Not like off the black market, silly. Just to keep one alive and stuff. I mean, I knew that having a baby would be a bit expensive. I was the one lecturing my husband on the realities of what we were in for. Turns out I was slightly ignorant. I mean, just like that whole “love for your child” thing I described earlier, there’s a difference between knowing what to expect and actually living it! Therefore, my cool factor is suffering because I can’t buy many new clothes (had to have a ridiculous purging of my ‘stuff that no longer fits’) and I can’t buy ALL OF THE iTUNES. Yeah, my definition of ‘cool’ isn’t even that cool anymore – what, fool? You think being cool is just music and clothes? How pedestrian. Hipsters be hatin’.

If you are just you, or just you and a plus one at this point…imagine how outraged you are when you buy two puny bags of groceries at the supermarket and it’s like $50 and you’re like WTF? That’s ridonkulous!! Add a box of disposable nappies ($30) and a tin of formula ($20) almost every time. Then when you’re pregnant and you’re all, “I’m gonna save money and the environment by using cloth nappies and breastfeeding only”…but it doesn’t quite go to plan and your trendy, expensive (at least for initial outlay) cloth nappies sit unused because you were too scared to use them, plus the breastfeeding thing didn’t quite work out…I mean, not that I’m talking about me here…OK I am. Yeah, you get where I’m going with that.

My husband and I now have a strict budget for each pay fortnight, which we routinely break, but we do it with an educated mind at least? The damage we inflict on our cards is much less (I feel) than it would have been before we started planning better. Yep. I never thought I would actually have to account for every single last cent. Literally. I mean, I was always frugal and very sensible before, but now I have a new meaning for ‘sensible’ and it doesn’t always include a copy of TV Week or a sneaky item of clothing here and there!

I still swear a lot. Seriously. I thought about implementing a swear jar in our house, but then realised I would just swear more because the Little Mister would be receiving the money. You know, for a good cause and all that. So, I’m still working on it. I had no idea how much I don’t give a ship about some things, and how other things can get firetrucked. I really need to be better. Parent fail.

A few years ago, if you were to tell me that you had this great job opportunity for me: It involves very little sleep for a few months, you’re on call 24 hours a day, you will have to pay your own way (ie it’s volunteer work), and it’s messy. Basically, you’ll be wiping someone’s poo and vomit up – for no pay. Daily. Relentlessly. No sick leave. No entitlements. No annual leave. Your employer can’t speak your language, will yell a lot to get what they want and won’t even smile at you for the first six weeks. Also, it will be the most happy time of your life.

I would have thought you were batsh*t crazy.

But it happened. I love it. Sure, occasionally I love it a little less than usual…but I wouldn’t trade this job for the world. I really really hoped I would feel this way when I eventually had a child, but to see that it has become my reality thrills me.

It’s been one year and I am (just to toot my own horn) really amazed at what I’m capable of as a parent and as a person. Having the Little Mister has shown me what I’m made of and I have realised I don’t mind what I’m made of at all. I mean, none of us are perfect, but I feel so happy to know I really am strong and able to love so much. I can’t wait for the many years ahead as we learn and grow together.

Here’s to a year of parenting :)

To see what else I’ve written to celebrate a year of the Little Mister, click here :)

Like Awesomely Unprepared on Facebook xx

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An open letter to my mothers’ group.

As we (all too rapidly) approach the Little Mister’s first birthday, I have a few posts planned to celebrate not only him, but my first year of parenthood. This is the first one – an open letter to my mothers’ group (I used an apostrophe because it’s totally ours as well as us being a sum of mothers in the plural sense – don’t know why I felt the need to explain…). 

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Dearest Mothers’ Group,

I can’t believe it’s been almost a year of parenthood and almost a year of knowing you ladies. I remember being nervous when I received the letter from the hospital inviting me to meet up with other parents who had babies the same age as the Little Mister. We were asked to attend a six week course of sorts at the community health centre where we would learn lots of helpful things about parenting a newborn. First, I was nervous about what to bring. I was so new and green with everything so I overpacked the Little Mister’s bag every single week! You would think our session was going to be a camping trip, not a couple of hours! You’ll laugh now, but I had packed so many more bottles than the Little Mister would be able to drink in one day, enough nappies to soak up the Indian Ocean and so many spare outfits in case he had a few disasters! My bag was packed to the brim. Funny thing is, I had planned every outing so that the Little Mister wouldn’t need feeding while we were there. I put a new nappy on him at the last possible moment before leaving home, to avoid having to change him on the change table provided in the room. I was so overawed by my parenting responsibilities!

Before I had the Little Mister, I had heard horror stories of big groups of mothers gathering together. I’d heard of catty comments, competitiveness and the pressure to be with the ‘in’ crowd. I’d heard mothers’ groups could be a horrible experience if you were grouped with the wrong people and that it could get cliquey and stressful. I decided to attend these first meetings with an open mind. I would soak up the parenting information as best as I could, but I wouldn’t put any pressure on myself to become friends with you all or to make myself continue to meet with the group after the health centre meetings ended if it didn’t seem right for me. Of course I hoped it would turn out well, and it did. You won’t believe how much pressure I placed on myself as a new mum (or maybe you will). I wanted to be the perfect parent in every way. I drove myself (and my husband dare I say it) up the wall! As you all may know, I didn’t have the best pregnancy, an ideal birth or an easy time recovering. I believe I had fought off depression a few times (getting perilously close), and although I am so proud I beat those negative thoughts and feelings and that I was strong, it left with me an obsession with getting everything right. So much had gone wrong already and now was my chance to be ‘perfect’ and happy. I had to make everything go ‘right’.

I felt embarrassed because I couldn’t exclusively breastfeed and I dreaded the moment the topic would come up in our first meeting together. I was (stupidly) scared to admit that we were feeding the Little Mister formula because my supply never got to a satisfactory level due to several factors (stress, being separated for three days right after the birth and being sick – on intense courses of antibiotics in the hospital). I now know it wasn’t so bad. In fact, I’m proud that I managed to do what I could despite the circumstances, but at the time I was so fearful of judgement from anyone and everyone! What I’m getting to in my roundabout way, is that the defining moment for me was when you all started sharing your diverse birth stories and various feelings surrounding breastfeeding. Some of you were fortunate enough to breastfeed really well (go you guys!) and some of you, like me, hadn’t had an easy time of it. We talked about the pressure we’d felt in the hospital to breastfeed successfully for the prescribed 6 months (at least) in order to be a good parent and I suddenly relaxed. I wasn’t alone. We were all going to get along just fine! My nerves dissipated almost instantly. Thankyou from the bottom of my heart, ladies.

I love how much we’ve all learnt and grown together. Our Facebook page has been a lifesaver. A sanity saver. Have a question? Ask the girls. Feeling confused about an issue, thinking you’re the only one, someone else will post about the very same thing. It’s been very comforting and we’ve celebrated all those special little milestones with our precious bubs together. I love that there is a way to see some of you just about every week – a way to fill our days together and get out of the house, and it’s been so amazing watching our little ones grow (and steal each other’s biscuits)…

I will admit that sometimes it gets a little overwhelming. Sometimes I just have to switch off from all the mummy talk and take a little break from the Facebook page or various meet-ups. I sometimes forget to nurture who I am outside of being a parent (a stay at home mum curse perhaps?), so I have to balance things out a bit more. What I love about you all is that you give me that space if I need it. We respect each others’ space and busy lives. All of us are so different to each other in so many ways, but I think we each bring something unique and special to the group. I don’t know what my ‘thing’ is exactly (besides leaving the longest comments ever on Facebook – I’m a writer and I’m a chatterbox – I am so sorry!!!), but I hope I am a good friend and that you feel my support.

The fact that we break all those mothers-at-war-with-each-other stereotypes warms my heart.

Congratulations – we’re all awesome and we’ve survived the first year with our first children!!! :)

Thankyou all.

Love (and cuddles to your bubs),

Kez.

PS. ARE WE READY FOR FIRST BIRTHDAY MAYHEM?!?! IT’S ALMOST UPON US!!!! xoxo

 

Are you a part of a mothers’/parenting group? How has your experience been? Are you from my mothers’ group? Feel free to say hi!

Click here to ‘like’ Awesomely Unprepared’s Facebook page x

 

 

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Some honest reflection one week out of hospital.

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Look, I am going to toot my own horn here (or whatever that expression is). I am going to risk sounding full of myself but I am damn proud of how I’ve handled my crazy pregnancy and labour experiences. I’ve learnt so much about what I am capable of both mentally and physically, which sounds funny because a lot of things didn’t go right. It doesn’t mean that there weren’t moments I felt like my body had let me or the Little Mister down, but there were a lot of things my body did right.

They say you should talk about your birth experience – especially if things went a little haywire – as it can ward off post natal depression and keep you positive and supported. I totally believe this now and it’s why I’ve been so brutally honest about everything I’ve experienced. Sharing my story and talking to my husband and my family about it without being afraid of a few tears has really helped.

I feel a bit bad like maybe I’ll scare some people who hope to have children some day, but look. I’m here and I have a beautiful, healthy baby to prove that despite the challenges everything can turn out well in the end. I think I did teeter dangerously close to depression at some low points of my pregnancy. I was tired of everything that got thrown at me from rashes to diabetes to the mysterious infectious end to the whole ordeal (which luckily resulted in a healthy mum and bub after a bit of TLC). I thought that if there was something that could go wrong, it would happen to me. Oh, that condition only affects 1% of pregnant people? For sure, I’ll get it! I admit to thinking negatively and worrying a lot. I didn’t think of myself as a strong person at all. I felt inadequate and helpless. Sometimes I felt like I was alone (which I know I wasn’t but when you’re down you think you’re the only one).

Everyone said to me that when Little Mister arrived, I would forget all of those troubles and everything I’ve been through would fade away. I didn’t believe them. I was trying to be realistic about it all. I knew that in my position I might not feel amazing right away and I refused to pressure myself to feel that new baby euphoria immediately. If it happened (which I prayed it did) then I would be so relieved and if it didn’t, I would be mentally prepared, know the signs and ask for help.

I can’t believe my luck. Everything really does seem worth it with my little guy around. I love him so much. In fact, maybe I love him and appreciate him even harder after all we’ve been through together. Sometimes I do get sad flashbacks to my labour experience or the trauma that certain events brought me in the lead up to his birth. I acknowledge and honour those feelings. I talk them out and I give them a little time (and a couple of tears) before moving forward. I have so many new things to learn and love.

I am recovering from an emergency C-section and it can be frustrating. I don’t know where I would be without the help of my husband and the support of family. It really is physically limiting and I try not to let it affect the way I bond with our bub, but there are admittedly times I can’t jump up out of bed (on account of being too sore) and lift him up into my arms when he cries. I need a lot of help and sometimes I just cannot do everything I want to. I try to make up for it wherever I can and I am not pressuring myself to do too much or to be a super mummy right away.

Something that affects me a little is the fact that my baby was taken away to another hospital for special care hours after birth. He was gone about three days and I only got to see him when he was placed on my chest right after the C-section. This is hard for any new mum, but I think that being an adoptee, I found it particularly tough when on day 3 the baby blues kicked in (only I had no baby with me yet). I realised that my biological mother had been through a similar (albeit permanent) trauma. I had now felt what it was like to go through a lot to have a baby and then have nothing to show for it. I felt so blessed that it was just a temporary situation (a few days really is going to seem like a flash in the pan as we clock up the quality time with our gorgeous bub), but it made me very sad. I was so jealous of my husband because he was able to visit Little Mister (but also so grateful he wouldn’t be alone). I felt empty and shellshocked and it still brings tears to my eyes sometimes when I talk about it. I had looked forward to seeing my beautiful baby for so long – he was the reward for all my hard work – and now he wasn’t there. I was hooked up to drips and stuck on an uncomfortable hospital bed, feeling as if I was still pregnant because I had nothing to prove otherwise (a swollen post-surgery paunch didn’t help the matter). Each day I feel a little better about how everything’s turned out, but I doubt I’ll ever forget those feelings.

I now respect those who go through harder situations than me so much more than ever before. My small taste of separation from my baby was more than enough for me to go through. My heart goes out to those who aren’t as fortunate as myself and my husband. My husband said that it was humbling visiting the neo-natal ward at the children’s hospital. Our baby looked so big and healthy compared to the tiny, struggling premature babies who were in the humidicribs. The parents of those other babies would look on in shock at how much our baby was thriving compared to their tiny, delicate infants. They must have wondered what he was doing there. Our Little Mister might have had an infection and needed oxygen and intravenous antibiotics but he was big and strong. I love him so much and he already makes me proud.

I see so many positives out of this situation. I have a healthy fighter of a baby. I now know what I’m made of. Even when trying for a natural labour I kept my composure and I did what was best for me and the baby (never letting myself get too distressed). I now know I can handle pain I’ve never experienced previously in my whole life and now I feel like I could get through anything. My rash has disappeared and I can eat what I like again. I am healthier because my diabetes taught me better dietary habits and I can look at the warm, inviting spring sunshine and not be afraid that it will make my skin unbearable to be in. The small pleasures in life are certainly not taken for granted anymore.

Itchy stretch marks on my belly and pock marked legs? Who bloody cares! Look what good things my body did! It knew to get the baby out before it was too late. It responded to the drugs I was given and it is healing fabulously considering what it’s been through. My faith in my body is returning, which is actually a really big deal for me.

I have so many good things to look forward to in life and I’m on the craziest learning curve ever. Love really does conquer all if we let it.

If I have any advice (unsolicited again – sorry) for other new mums, it would be to not expect yourself to feel 100% awesome and competent and crazy with baby love 100% of the time. It’s OK if sometimes you need a little cry or if something isn’t quite working perfectly. Just get some support if you need it and you’ll be able to move forwards onto all the good things in life. The baby blues are real and that’s OK.

In saying that, sometimes it’s more than just baby blues and you shouldn’t have to suffer alone and ashamed – here is a link if you’re struggling xo

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Modern Day Etiquette: What advice would YOU give?

There is nothing more exciting than receiving a parcel in the mail. Especially when it’s a surprise! As I was sitting on the toilet going about my business yesterday, my husband called out.

“There’s a package for you! Are you expecting anything?!”

I then quizzed him through the door (we’re married – get over it).

“Whose handwriting is it in? Is it from Australia? Did I order something online and forget about it?”

“I don’t know. Should I open it for you?” came the reply.

“OK…but be careful. It could be a bomb or anthrax or something. I might have made some enemies.”

So anyway, fast forward a few minutes and it turned out I had been sent a really cool book by a really thoughtful lifelong friend. A book I’d been eyeing off for a little while but never really had the nerve to buy (in case it made me realise that I am indeed joining the “Mummy” ranks for realsies):

It’s called The A to Z of MUMMY MANNERS by Libbi Gorr and is “an etiquette guide for managing other children’s mothers and assorted mummy dilemmas”.

It also came with a card that my friend thought appropriate, emblazened with the word “FEARLESS”…perhaps she didn’t get the memo that impending motherhood is thrilling, exciting but mostly sh*t-scary?! Bless.

Inside the book are gems of wisdom like how to explain why one or both parents are in jail, “Mummy had a sleepover. Daddy or Grandma has to pay to let her come home.” (page 81)

Or how to accept that you’re not a domestic goddess: “Face it sister, you weren’t bred to bake. Own it. Get your PhD. Move on.” (page 43)

There is also useful information on how to interact harmoniously with other mummies and how to deal with the competitive nature of women (you or someone else).

It’s a fantastic gift which I am looking forward to reading properly from cover to cover!

There’s nothing that the old school me loves more than modern day lessons in etiquette. I think my friend knows me quite well :)

If I was writing a book on general modern day etiquette, I’d probably offer useful advice like this:

Facebook: Your status is supposed to let people know what is on your mind at any given time. It is designed for your social network to see what you are up to, what you’re thinking about and how your life is going. In-jokes (that no-one but you and two other people will understand), passive aggressive jabs at other unnamed friends or the airing of one’s dirty laundry in the heat of a moment is never appropriate. Thought should go into what you choose to publish and how you want to be perceived. Once published, it will not be forgotten. People also have the ability to screen capture your words for later use against you. Tread wisely and represent yourself well. Also, stop annoying EVERYONE with your drama (the voyeuristic novelty wears off really quickly – especially if you do not know how to spell or use apostrophes). Private chat or messaging is best in these situations.

RSVPing: Always RSVP by the date specified on an invitation. It is respectful and shows the event host/organiser that you respect them enough to allow them time to arrange the appropriate quantity of catering and to arrange an appropriate amount of seating or party favours etc. By not letting someone know whether you are attending, you are putting them in a position that is unnecessarily stressful and shows your lack of thoughtfulness. It also makes you appear quite inconsiderate and self centred. If you truly do not know whether you can attend or not (perhaps due to exceptional circumstances) it can be nice to let the host know – they will surely be understanding.

Double Dipping at Parties: If you must dip again, make sure you turn your breadstick around or break it up first!

Socialising while Contagious: Don’t do it! You might be having a great time, but the people you’re spluttering on are not going to enjoy themselves when they catch your cold/flu/flesh eating virus! You might want to consider the fact that other guests may have jobs to attend, exams to sit, children to look after or very vulnerable relatives of their own who cannot afford to catch a virus as well. Same goes for Working while Contagious. And all the employers/friends who pressure you to turn up anyway? Shame on them!!

Ending a Relationship (this one’s for you, Bronnie): Don’t do it via text message. Especially if it’s going to seem like it’s come out of nowhere. You cowardly twat.

Basically, all pieces of advice I would have to give would come under the one category: Don’t be a douchebag. Simple, really. In fact, that would totally be the title of my book. I really think I might be onto something. Get me a publishing deal, stat!!

 

If you were writing a book on etiquette, what advice would you give?