Tag Archives: parenthood

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A day in the life.

My life hasn’t exactly been the most scintillating this week. After I had fun being 90s rocker Kez at a music festival on Saturday, followed by the pamper fest that was Mother’s Day, reality has come back to hit me in the face. Today was definitely one of those days! I’ve documented it here in tweets, rather than photos because no-one wants to see my dirty dishes, my bra-less, frumpy “staying in” outfit or the fact that the Little Mister wore his pyjamas ALL DAY.

The Little Mister woke me at 2am and I do not think I slept solidly from then until 7am. I spent over an hour loitering in the hallway outside his room while he whinged, stopped, whinged, stopped, whimpered, stopped, cried, stopped. He had misplaced his dummy and when I finally couldn’t take it anymore (do I get points for patient parenting?), I found him sitting bolt upright in the corner of his cot, eyes squeezed shut, having a whinge. He did look so sad. He had tried reeeeeally hard to manage without his dummy (which he is addicted to at sleep time), but it just wasn’t working out. I then spent the next hour awake in bed hoping he wasn’t too uncomfortable or sick and worrying that he might have wet through his nappy (or was due to). I wasn’t going back to have a look-see!!!

It’s starting to feel like a conspiracy. My husband got me tickets for a show a million bajillion years months ago. We’ve been so excited for our upcoming date night and it’s almost here! Of course, the Little Mister spends the lead up to it getting sick with a cold, suffering a sleep regression and developing conjunctivitis. My parents (the lucky babysitters) are a tad nervous as he’s staying overnight and has revived his separation anxiety issues of late! All I can hope for is a guilt free, care free night – fingers (and everything else) crossed!!! Please don’t let this turn into some kind of cruel twist of Murphy’s lore thing.

Yeah, yeah. We watched a bit of teev. Little Mister was quite tired and grumpy and I just needed him to sit still for a while. Meanwhile, I looked on in horror at their native animal scene created soley out of toilet rolls and pipe cleaners and all the things that simply are not found in an every day home.

No joke. 15 minutes of the deepest sleep I’ve ever achieved in such a short time was a lifesaver. I actually felt more rested when I awoke. I guess any sleep is great when you’re existing on 3 hours from the previous night.

Due to his usual form, the Little Mister visited me in his IKEA circus tent (where I may have been hibernating a little), with his favourite book. He likes to wait until I put on my enthusiastic face, start reading in a perky voice and then bail. I stubbornly kept reading, hoping he’d come back but I think I knew the jig was up when I heard Elmo singing some song about loving his goldfish (and his crayons too). I may or may not have stayed in the tent for a bit longer…

It’s so lucky he’s funny and cute. I was fading fast. He likes to use different toys as phones. He puts them up to his ear, says “Hello”, followed by a lot of emphatic nodding of his head and gibberish that sounds very matter of fact. I hate to think that he may be imitating me…am I really like that? :P

It was one of those days where I was stuck at home, feeling cabin fever, frustration at all my plans that were put on hold (Little Mister being in quarantine) and fatigue triggering all my insecure thoughts. It was horrible, but I hung in there as best I could and tried to focus on the Little Mister. A good conversation with my husband on the phone really did do wonders. He was a good listener and very supportive. I couldn’t wait until he got home.

The Little Mister seemed quite suspicious of green beans today for some reason. I tricked him into eating one. He didn’t even notice. One point to me!

Gosh, a hug does wonders. The Little Mister perked right up when he saw his dad (probably sick of my face). That kept him going for a bit longer through arsenic hour.

The Little Mister loves bath time and I think he secretly wanted extra hugs from Mr Unprepared, so instead of insisting on a nudie run around the house (slippery little sucker), he flopped about in his arms so he had to be carried all the way. Little Monster. He’s a heavy little chap.

I am now writing up this blog post, with my feet up. Psyching myself up for a nice sleep tonight (we hope). Once I’ve posted this, it’s snuggle time with my hubby who has been working longer hours this week so we can make tomorrow’s date night possible. Let’s hope our team work gets us through!!

How was your day? Tell me all the boring stuff :)  

This post was a part of the Blog Every Day in May challenge.



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The thing I’m most afraid of.

Last night, I was trying to gather some thoughts together for today’s blog post. I wanted to list my greatest fears and I was not exactly coming up with much. All I could think of is my fear of spiders. Especially the ones with the big, bulbous, black bodies and hairy legs. Oh, holy sh*t they freak me out. I can’t even bring myself to show you guys a picture of exactly what I mean, because that would involve finding a picture and looking at the picture. I can’t even.

I thought about how I have a fear of being rejected or misrepresented. I get really angsty when someone has got me all wrong or wants to smear my good name. Or even threaten to. I’m generally a pretty good person and the idea of someone either not recognising that or being willing to paint me as a not so good person does freak me out. I mean, I’m not a perfect person, but I’m not a bad person with ill intent. If something’s true, I’ll cop to it even if it hurts like hell. I just won’t stand for being misjudged or misunderstood. However, I don’t know if I’d strictly call this a fear so much as insecurity. I think there’s a slight difference.

I then thought that perhaps I have a fear of writing this blog post because it could get pretty deep and revealing pretty fast. So do I have a fear of being vulnerable? Of people judging me for my deepest feelings? Perhaps.

Could I just write a funny post about being scared of the Little Mister not napping enough or the weird dream I told my husband about (he may tell you he was under duress), where we found people living in our roof space, but it was OK in the end because we sent them away in a minivan? You know, to avoid writing about my truest fears?

I decided to ask my husband what he thought my biggest fears are. I thought I’d get a joke answer back, to be honest. But what he said rang very true.

“I think your biggest fear would be losing the Little Mister.”

Yep. There it is.

It’s the one place that I cannot let my mind fully go to. It is just too hard to comprehend. The pain would be so awful. The broken dreams too heartbreaking. To suddenly have the best thing in your whole wide world taken from you. Gut wrenching wouldn’t even cover it. I know that you grieve and you never get over it, but that hopefully with love and support you learn to accept it and live with it – people have to do it all the time – but I just hope and pray that I never ever have to know this pain.

I can’t even type any more about this, because I am lucky enough today to not have to go there and I choose not to because of my fear.

In saying that, I don’t let this fear rule me. I look after the Little Mister and I try to protect him as best I can, but I don’t want to be paranoid or always thinking something bad is going to happen (if you do, please ask somebody for help).

I feel so blessed that despite having fears that range from the silly (spiders) to the deep and truly scary (losing the Little Mister), I do not have to live in fear daily. I think fear is a very natural part of life – a certain amount can be healthy, but I am so glad that my fears do not cripple me or stop me from living my life. I don’t want to be scared of things that have not happened yet.

It’s hard work being brave, isn’t it?

What are you most afraid of? 

This post is a part of the Blog Every Day in May challenge.



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Stuff parents are good at.

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Parenting is hard work and often it is a thankless job. All this talk about controlled crying versus attachment parenting, breast feeding versus bottle feeding, organic home made food versus something from a squeezy foil container. Helicopter parenting versus whatever the opposite of that is. This kind of discipline. That kind of discipline. Parenting techniques and styles up to our eye balls! So many books, “experts” on talk shows, websites, busy bodies at the shops or the park. We’re all busy talking about the BIG things.

Well, I’m here to talk about the ‘little’ things. Those talents and skills parents use (or aspire to – usually in my case) all the time. The things that no-one notices. No-one writes books about or talks about on television. That’s right. I’m going to give props to all you parents who can do the following AWESOME things day in and day out, with very little recognition. You’re welcome.

  • Sneaking into your child’s room to adjust something/check something without waking them.
  • Eating an entire snack without your child noticing.
  • Making it to the toilet and back without anyone interrupting.

OK, so basically, if you’re a ninja of a parent, I salute you.

  • Removing your child from a shopping trolley seat without losing one or both of his/her shoes.
  • That sixth sense you get when you know your child is concealing some kind of not-very-good-for-the-system item in his/her mouth – without actually seeing them put it there.
  • The ability to tune out needless whining and whingeing during arsenic/witching hour and go to a happy place.
  • Finding 50000 ways to say ‘no’ to something, without actually using the word ‘no’ because apparently saying ‘no’ too much can damage a child…or lead to them learning the word ‘no’ (which is much worse)…and having them actually know what you mean…and obey you. This is obviously an aspirational talent for me haha.
  • Finishing a phone call without the person on the other end mentioning your child, because they’re making loud, annoying noises in the background.
  • Distracting your child back to happiness, that last split second before they reach their tantrum tipping point and there’s no going back. THAT is skill. I applaud you. You are amazing.
  • Based on your child’s health/wellbeing/mood/the weather/how much sleep your child had the previous night/the amount of physical activity that day/the environment you are in/the amount of background noise, you can predict exactly how long nap time will go for and when it will occur. Like a boss. Of course, there are always exceptions, but you’re getting pretty good at it.
  • The ability to pack your handbag so full with kid stuff that it’s actually scientifically impossible and defies the laws of spatial capacity (I’m no scientist – I made that up). You know what I mean. You could be hiding a port-a-cot and a bath seat in that bag for all we know! Good job!
  • Not crying when your baby has their immunisation needles. Yes, I mean you.
  • Going to work/on a date/anywhere at all without your child without crumbling from the guilt of it all (or letting anyone else make you feel bad).
  • Mastering the withering stare reserved only for those who give horrible, unsolicited parenting advice. Especially the ones who don’t even have children. For those, you must also master the eye roll.
  • Keeping your child alive. At all. Hey, a few years ago, you couldn’t even raise a goldfish or keep a plant alive (maybe if you’re like me – you still can’t)!
  • Leaving the house without something food based smudged onto any item of your clothing.

Whether you’ve got all of this stuff under control, or you’re still working on it, I applaud you. You’re awesome. Parenting is one of those games where the goal posts are constantly shifting and you’ll often feel unprepared, underqualified and understaffed to deal with it. But you’re awesome. Awesomely Unprepared.

What obscure parenting skills are you good at?

This post is part of the Blog Every Day in May challenge.



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Oh, that’s funny. I don’t remember asking for your advice.

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The other day was fun. I ventured out of the house with my Little Mister (17 months) for the first time in three days. We were headed somewhere reeeeallly exciting.

Kidding.

We went to the supermarket where I feel like the very least they could do is add my name to the lease, because I friggin’ live there.

The Little Mister was really excited to get back out into the world again, after our huge trip to visit relatives across the country. Everything was so thrilling. He was pointing left, right and centre at every item down every aisle until I would tell him what they were. He was chatting and giving me the kind of cuddles that make you feel simultaneously like you’re going to burst from all the love, but your back is starting to hurt as you huddle over the front of the trolley.

Who doesn’t love a happy toddler in a supermarket? Seriously. Who?

About halfway round, he started showing the signs that he wanted to find the goodies in my handbag. He was getting quite persistent, pointing and grabbing at it, his face all earnest and determined.

I knew I had three choices (based on the environment and the contents of my bag).

1. Don’t give him anything, letting him whinge and cry all he likes. Great for discipline in most places…except a supermarket with a trolley half filled with groceries.

2. Give him snacks to keep him busy and quiet.

3. Hand him his dummy.

I chose option number three. I had my reasons. All of which were valid and seemed suitable in the context of the Little Mister’s particular situation at the time (I’m deliberately choosing not to explain myself in great detail here because the point of this post is to express that we don’t owe anyone and everyone explanations for our parenting choices just because they’re choosing to judge).

The Little Mister allowed me to finish my grocery shopping (quite a large haul to replenish stocks since we got home from our trip) and we were having a really lovely time together.

I chose the closest check out, which happened to be attended by a lady who has always given friendly service and says a smiley hello to the Little Mister. I thought today would be no different, but no. She spied that dummy and she had an agenda.

We’d hardly exchanged the polite, “Hello, how are you today”s, when she launched into it.

“Ooooh,” she said in an ominous tone, “You can have real problems with those [dummies]. You’ll have to hide them away and throw them out. They get addicted.”

I shrugged it off, thinking that she was simply trying to commiserate and that she meant well (she has young children).

She continued to look at the Little Mister’s dummy with a shaking head and look of disapproval.

I politely (because I’m so people pleasing like that) said, “He’s pretty good. He just needs it in the supermarket haha.”

Awkward, nervous mummy jokes are my thing. Noted by the strained, “Haha?” at the end.

“They like it when they’re teething,” she continued, “but you should give him rusks instead.”

She scanned my items while not breaking eye contact with the dummy – not even for a second.

“Tut tut tut”.

Seriously. She tut tut tutted.

By now I wasn’t being very warm and friendly anymore. I wasn’t being rude, but I wasn’t being very receptive.

It wasn’t so much what she said that made me feel annoyed, so much as who she was, what her relationship with us was (ie there isn’t one) and the way in which she stared my son’s dummy down and looked at me like I was a hapless idiot who was clearly making a big mistake and one day that mistake would bite me in the bum.

Here’s the thing, dudes. Body language totally makes a difference. It says so much more than words can.

I did not take so well to being judged by a near stranger and given advice that I knew would not be helpful (in context because he’s MY kid and I live with him/know him/care for him). When I didn’t appear to want her advice, she got a bit cold. Well, screw her. She could have her opinion. We all have opinions. It’s just about knowing/deciding whether it’s appropriate to air them or not. Having an opinion doesn’t mean we’re all experts or that we know all of someone’s story. It doesn’t mean that the recipient has to take on our unsolicited advice (or else it’s a disapproving look for you, love). I just wanted to finish buying my exorbitantly priced groceries and get the hell home for the Little Mister’s nap!

I handed her my shopper rewards card and she said, “Oh? You have a card?” with a surprised tone that almost bordered on sarcasm.

Yes, lady. I have a card. I don’t always have it with me, because I share it with my husband. You really need to stop paying so much attention to me each week. I want impersonal, clinical service (perhaps with just a hint of a warmish smile), please, but I’m not telling you how to do it!! I don’t know your life!!

On the way home (all of a five minute drive) I was fuming. Apart from the over the top “THIS IS GOING ON MY BLOG – SHE WILL RUE THE DAY SHE MET ME!” thoughts, I realised that this lady who is normally very kind and keeps things friendly might have her own sh*t going on in her life. Perhaps she was projecting her own parenting frustrations and perceived failings onto me. I was a soft target. There is no excuse for it, but I do realise that the Little Mister looks at least six months older than he is. At this stage in his life (almost a year and a half old) there seems to be a huge difference between 18 months and 2 years of age in development (based on my observations of the children I know). The poor kid gets judged based on a 2 year old (or older)’s abilities/developmental stages. So unfair. I feel that it’s something I’m going to face more and more with my little man’s height, full head of hair (and I mean FULL) and bright, inquisitive, conversational eyes. He’s fine without a dummy for 90% of the day and we have so many positive little developments, milestones and things we’ve done well in the day that cannot be noticed by a judgemental check out lady while she scans our food items (no matter how much she stares).

The transaction was finalised and the check out attendant said, “Bye. Have a nice day.”

Like the life had been drained from her soul.

I think she knew she had lost me during that exchange and I almost felt sorry for her.

I’m not fuming anymore. I’m just sitting here, eyebrows raised, thinking about how funny it is that we feel entitled to tell others what we think of their situation (even if we don’t know the half of it). Who do we think we are? No-one asked us!

Have you ever received judgement and unsolicited advice from a stranger? How did it make you feel? Please share.

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Never say never. All the things we did “wrong” last week.

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Sometimes life just calls on you to break ALL of the rules. You just can’t be awesomely prepared all the time. Um…have you read this blog? The title is kind of a dead giveaway, really. As a first time parent, you get all of these ideas. So funny. What were you thinking? I had ideas. Stuff about routines. Stuff about travel. Saving money. Nutrition. Blah blah blah. Occasionally, you just need to accept that things won’t go to plan in life. Just go with the flow. Know that it’s not forever and laugh about it.

At least that’s what I had to do when my grandfather passed away and all of a sudden we had to jump into action. Not planning on taking a toddler on an aeroplane until he was old enough to (attempt to) reason with? Forget about it! Having a long(ish) term plan for a visit to family in which you could plot it all out and save the moolah for it? Forget about it!

We just had to bite the bullet and do what we needed to do.

And you know what? It didn’t kill us.

I’m as surprised as you are.

For a week, we relaxed the ‘rules’ and we adapted to our situation as best we could.

We took a toddler on a plane. Before I was mentally prepared. Holy crap. Under the umbrella of taking a toddler on a plane, there are many rules to be broken. For us, it was screen time. We just sat him on our laps (OK so it was my husband’s lap mostly due to my bruised coccyx) and hoped he’d stare at the inflight entertainment screen FOREVER. I was prepared to bribe the Little Mister with any amount of snacks necessary, but luckily that was never an issue! I just didn’t want to be the most hated family on the plane! I was so awesomely unprepared for this plane journey, I’m not even joking. After our first interstate travel with the Little Mister at 3 months of age, I kind of thought that I’d be able to take months to plan the next one. Research a lot, prepare several strategies for looking after him, gather all necessary items that might help make the trip easier…yeah, right! Dream on, Kez!

Luckily the gods were smiling on us. Although, they don’t deserve all the credit. The Little Mister should get a billion and one gold stars. He was a champ. Both ways. Not kidding. Miracles do happen. He got restless on the way home, which was terribly frustrating and made the trip drag a lot, but he never bitched about it or annoyed anyone else. Hey, he can annoy his parents all he likes, as long as we’re not chased off the plane by a pitchfork wielding mob. Although, the pitchforks would probably be made out of blunt plastic…security and all.

We put our kid on a leash. I’m not kidding. If you are not a parent, you are horrified by this. I know that I was. I had my principles. Oh, God. Look at those terrible parents who have their toddler on a leash. Ugh, and they have the gall to disguise it as some kind of cute monkey/teddy bear/butterfly back pack. Let’s just call it what it is. A leash. Surely they can just discipline their child better than that, so they don’t need a freakin’ leash? I will never do that to my children! NEVER! Children aren’t ANIMALS! NEVERRRRRRRR!!!!

So…it turns out that it’s actually called a child restraint (I know – doesn’t sound much better). Also, I’ve discovered that it’s not so much about being cruel to your child as it is kind. They believe they’re being grown up and independent, because they can walk (or just try to slide all over the floor while people are looking – whatevs), rather than be cooped up in someone’s arms or a stroller. Also, it keeps them safe. I figure a child on a leash is far better than a lost child, because a lost child is any parent’s absolute worst nightmare. I could hold hands with the Little Mister everywhere we went as he toddled about (while he was attached to my wrist), but the thought of someone being able to snatch him and run so easily kind of makes me feel queasy. Yeah, and I’m not even the most paranoid mum you’ll ever meet.

Having the restraint (his is a very cute monkey thank you very much!) was a quick way to keep the Little Mister out of trouble as we navigated through airports (especially when our stroller was checked into luggage). Also, as wrong as it will look written down, when we waited in a terminal for a flight, holding the “tail” of the “monkey” from a much needed seated position while the Little Mister “explored” a (very) small space was very useful.

Much like Mia Freedman’s quote in this iVillage post about restraints, I was shocked to learn that I was once a child in a restraint. I don’t remember it at all and I haven’t needed therapy over it, so that’s comforting. I really don’t see the problem, if it’s used wisely as a safe, parenting tool. The Little Mister is a very well behaved little man (most of the time), but he’s also very very curious and wants to explore. This can be difficult in busy, public places for a 17 month old!

The Little Mister had several carers a day. Every day. Usually this would be a little bit challenging. Just because he can get a bit over-stimulated with all the activity and varied caring styles. We were with so many family members constantly and because the home we were staying in (thanks to the generosity of relatives who were so kind to have us) was not childproofed (nor would we have expected it to be), this became necessary. I just didn’t have enough sets of eyes in my own head to keep up all day, every day. I also struggled with my bruised coccyx, which made it difficult to physically intervene in some precarious toddler discipline situations and lifting the Little Mister from the ground felt near on impossible for a while. While every single person who helped take care of the Little Mister was so generous, loving and definitely trustworthy, everyone had a different way of dealing with him. Some were stricter than others. Some used a little bribery. Everyone gave cuddles. Played games. Spoilt him to bits.

I wouldn’t change this for the world. He connected with my relatives (who we only see occasionally due to the great distance between us) and they bonded. So what if he was a little bit crazy by the end of the day? He’d have to adjust back to a smaller (and less generous) entourage sooner or later. A small price to pay for an invaluable experience.

Healthy diet? What the hell is that?? For the first year of the Little Mister’s life, I was a very strict mama when it came to the Little Mister’s diet. I had to know absolutely every ingredient in his food and I restricted his sugar and salt intake religiously. I’m still quite strict, because if he’s anything like his mum and dad, chocolate, ice cream and chips will be his cryptonite and if he can hold off for a while, then we’ll have less battles to fight. He does love his food, so I want what he puts in his body to be as healthy as possible, especially while I have control over it.

In saying that, this week away meant eating out. It meant going to places where not all adult food on a menu was share-able and not all kids menu items were healthy. In fact none of them were. Could I have kicked up a fuss about it and tried a little harder? Of course, but did it really matter a couple of times during the week? Nope. Now that we’re home, I’m quite relieved to give the Little Mister a chip free diet again, but has he complained and screamed that he only wants chips? Nope! He’s young enough for me to get away with it (I know I might not always be this lucky) and I think he knew that eating out was different to eating in. His favourite snack while we were away, regardless of all the not so awesome ‘sometimes’ foods he was exposed to, was seedless grapes – so I hope that means I’ve done something right :)

One bad week won’t wreck him for life and I’m cool with that. It happens so sparingly, it’s not going to make him some kind of obese, chip monster for the rest of his days. It’s not a life sentence and nothing bad happened. He got so much exercise running about on my aunty and uncle’s rural property, that we figured he was doing OK.

Regular nap times? Um…no. We were on the go a lot and we were in a different environment. Admittedly, the Little Mister was a bit overstimulated with people, noises and activity. He wanted to be a part of the action when we were ‘home’ and he was often forced to take a quick half hour nap in the car (he can never sleep long in the car unless it’s night time). This was all the sleep he’d get in a day. It was all he thought he wanted. I used to stress out about this, but I realised that he’s one of those kids who can take it. He just slept better at night – despite us sharing a room with him. While I expected there to be an adjustment period when we got home, it turns out he was so tired he returned to longer nap times with great excitement. Literally. The happy look on his face when placed in his cot says it all!

If we had stuck to nap times at ‘home’ (my aunty and uncle’s place where we stayed), trying to make him sleep longer, we would have been fighting a losing battle. We just went with the flow and we knew that if he really couldn’t take it any more he would tell us and probably just fall asleep again. He never did and we just let it be.

We all relaxed more and got to do great things and see people who were very important to us. It was worth it. We all would have missed out on so much if we’d been sticklers.

The evening bath time routine wasn’t a goer. It was far more effective to have the Little Mister shower with his daddy first thing in the morning. It saved water (a precious commodity when the house we were staying in relied on rainwater tanks) and time and fitted in better with our holiday routine. The Little Mister proved to be flexible and resilient about the whole thing – we just enjoyed his happy smile when he had his first bath at home again :)

We stayed in the room to comfort him until he fell asleep. This is something we haven’t done at home in a long time. Mostly because a toddler can figure out how to exploit you reeeally quickly. Also, because he hasn’t really needed us at bed time like he did when he was younger. However, we were in a different environment and we had to share a bedroom anyway. This quelled the Little Mister’s anxiety and because he was so tired after a huge day, once he was asleep, he was out to it. It felt right, so we went with it. We had peaceful evenings with the rest of our family and the Little Mister felt comforted and safe.

When we got home, he LOVED being in his own room almost as much as we did. Balance was restored and we haven’t had a problem. He knows his own bed and he knows he’s safe at home where it’s quieter and he has a routine.

Sleep time blankie? Sure, you can have it when you’re not in bed. Well, it was just the once. In the airport. He loves his little giraffe blankie so much – lights up when he sees it. We wanted him to stay calm and happy, as well as encourage sleepy feelings for when we boarded the plane home. Normally I would be concerned that this might start an addiction to having a security blanket all hours of the day, but really, he was cool. Now that we’re home, he doesn’t cry out for Mr Giraffey during the day and accepts that if he steals him from his cot, he is going back there with Mummy’s help! Same went for the dummy. If he needed it, he needed it. We were asking a lot of a 17 month old, so fair was fair.

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I think that around the time the Little Mister turned one, I felt like it was OK to relax a little when required. He was ready. Sometimes he won’t eat everything that’s good for him, sometimes he’ll need extra comfort when he’s away from home. I won’t always be his primary carer and that’s going to have to be OK. I feel like we’re trying to teach him the value of routine and good habits, but also to be flexible and resilient. To enjoy a break from the “every day” sometimes. I just trust that he knows the difference between being at home with Mummy and Daddy’s rules/ways of doing things and being at someone else’s home or a different environment. As long as we provide him with a safe haven where he knows what to expect (and what is expected of him), why not let him go and explore other places, people and ways of doing things? It seemed to work well enough when we made the crazy (but right) decision to go camping a couple of months ago!

We are exceptionally lucky to have such a happy go lucky kid. I do not take it for granted for a single second. I think what I’m saying is that we know our own kids and what their limits are better than anyone else does. There’s no harm in exploring that and learning as we go. We all have good days and bad days. I think the message I’m trying to get across is that we don’t have to stress so much when things get a little topsy turvy and routines get broken. It’s not forever and sometimes we can all enjoy ourselves so much more if we let go. Just for a little while. We’ll know when it’s time to rein it in. It’s all about trusting ourselves and our little ones more.

I’ve learnt to give the Little Mister more credit. He’s just always surprising me and I wouldn’t know just how well he can handle travel or the craziness if I hadn’t been forced into giving him a chance.

Now that we’re home, the Little Mister is understandably very tired and wondering where all of his posse are – the house is much quieter. But we’re cool. He’s not scarred for life. We haven’t slid into a downward spiral of bad parenting and an obese juvenile delinquent in the making (plenty of time for that). Everyone’s fine and I love that kid to bits for it.

We didn’t know we would be travelling interstate again so soon. But you know what? Sh*t happens. Sometimes it really is a blessing in disguise and it forced me out of my comfort zone. We survived and we had a great time. I wouldn’t change it for the world.

What “rules” have you broken lately? How do you feel about routines?

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Soundtrack for parents of toddlers.

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I think every moment of a person’s life needs a soundtrack that reflects what’s happening at that time. I seriously love the idea that life is a movie (not so much a nice, tidy Hollywood film…maybe more of an artsy foreign film with subtitles that you can’t keep up with and a plot that doesn’t seem to make any sense until the end). I listened to Nirvana, Silverchair, Rage Against the Machine and Hole when I was young and angst filled in the 90s. I became a bit of a rebel with a love for four chord wonder punk rock songs later in high school (there’s nothing like a private high school with strict uniform rules to make you feel all uprise-y and rebellious…but only on weekends and after school because you’re not really a bad-ass kid at all). Every summer of my adulthood has somehow been influenced by Aussie hip hop and cruisy acoustic tracks that remind me of the coast. Let’s just forget that time in primary school when I listened to Alanis Morrisette’s album Jagged Little Pill on repeat (rewinding that cassette over and over and over).

Now that I’m a parent (of a toddler no less), I’ve decided to create a soundtrack for life with a little one. Songs (or at least some selected lyrics) that really capture the essence of parenthood.

1. Powderfinger – Pick You Up

Relevant lyrics:

When you are far from home …

When you feel outgrown

I’ll be the one to pick you up again

When you decide you’ve had enough of it

I’ll be the one

…When your speech is slow

When your eyes are closed

I mean, how can this song not be written about a grumpy toddler who doesn’t want to walk anymore while you’re out and you just happen to not have a stroller with you or the upper body strength to deal with this sh*t? Toddlers are heavy!!

2. Rudimental – Not Giving In

Relevant lyrics:

I’m not giving in,
Not giving in,
Ooh I’m not giving in, yeah.

This time, I’m gonna be stronger I’m not giving in,
This time, I’m gonna be stronger, no, I’m not giving in.

Hello. Toddler tantrums? Discipline gone awry? At least have a really cool song to make you feel better. No, Little Mister. You can’t have your dummy or 50 snacks today. NO!

3. MC Hammer – U Can’t Touch This

Relevant lyrics:

I told you homeboy (You can’t touch this)
Yeah, that’s how we living and you know (You can’t touch this)
Look at my eyes, man (You can’t touch this)

…

Yo, I told you (You can’t touch this)
Why you standing there, man? (You can’t touch this)

…

You can’t touch this [x4]

OK, so many of the lyrics are wildly inappropriate for dealing with a toddler, but I find that I spend all day like, “Stop! Hammer time (OK I don’t say “Hammer time” but I think I’ll start just for funsies)! You can’t touch this! Or this! Stop touching this! No touching! You can’t touch this!” Just let me have this one, OK?

4. Faithless – Insomnia

Relevant lyrics:

I gets no sleep
I can’t get no sleep

I can’t get no sleep
I can’t get no sleep
I need to sleep, although I get no sleep
I need to sleep, although I get no sleep

So I’ve just discovered that there’s such a thing as an 18 month old sleep regression. And when that’s not rearing its ugly head, I still can’t get no sleep. Need I say more?

5. Meatloaf – I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)

Relevant lyrics:

And I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that
No, I won’t do that

Anything for love
Oh, I would do anything for love
I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that
No, I won’t do that

Again, the song’s theme and most of the lyrics don’t apply – at all – to having a toddler, but the relevant lyrics…ever been offered a handful of very soggy, half eaten food or something that’s been on the floor and is now crusty and unrecognisable??? Given out of love – an attempt to share nourishment with you?? There are many things I would do for love, but I won’t be doing that. Seriously. And that’s only one example.

6. Lady GaGa – Teeth

Relevant lyrics:

Show me your teeth
Just tell me when
Show me your teeth
Open your mouth boy
Show me your teeth
Show me whatcha got
Show me your teeth teeth teeth teeth

It is reeeeeally hard to get a good look at a toddler’s teeth. I think he has almost all of them. But how would I know? He won’t open his mouth. Clams up as soon as I want a little look-see.

After compiling this list of songs for you guys (you’re welcome), I have realised just how many ‘adult’ songs are really really inappropriate for children. So maybe just take the fun part of the lyrics I’ve selected and ignore the fact that the themes of the original songs are quite…well, not quite right. Kind of like when people select songs for their wedding waltzes that are about really weird things like break ups or death or getting married in Vegas when you’re really drunk and don’t know what you’re doing (I’m lookin’ at you, Bruno Mars). Don’t worry, I know these songs are not actually about toddlers. Or at least I hope they aren’t.

What songs would you add to the soundtrack of Life with Children?

 

Kez takes no responsibility for any of these songs that become stuck in your head all day…

‘Like’ me on Facebook :)

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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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The Case of the Missing TV Remote Control.

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On Monday, March 4, 2013 some time around the witching hour (also sometimes known as ‘arsenic hour’), a black LG TV remote control disappeared from its usual place of inhabitance. One Husband Unprepared (30), an unwitting witness in this case, claimed that he had last seen it when he turned on the television to watch Some Boring Show About Cars (may have paraphrased). The whereabouts of the remote are still unknown.

One suspect is within the sights of law enforcement and has been questioned extensively.

A transcript below:

Investigator: Hey, Little Mister. Where have you put the remote control, mate? Where is it? Where is it?

Little Mister remains tight lipped and flees the scene on a musical dolphin scooter, before he is apprehended once again. Things are looking suspicious.

Investigator: Come on. We know that you took it somewhere. Can you show me where it is? Where’s the remote? Come on, where is it?

Little Mister: Heyooooo *waves*

Investigator: Is it under the couch? In the couch? Behind the TV cabinet? In your toy room? Come on, give it up!

Little Mister: *indistinguishable*

A search was promptly carried out upon the Awesomely Unprepared premises, with leads from the public very valuable. Unfortunately, these leads led to dead ends and the search was abandoned at bath/bottle/bed time.

It has been confirmed that the remote control is not in the following places:

  • On/under/in the couch.
  • Under the fridge.
  • Down the sides of all cabinets/inside all cabinets.
  • In the toy boxes and shelves.
  • In the kitchen cupboard or drawers.
  • The dishwasher.
  • The washing baskets/piles of laundry.
  • Kez’s hand bag.
  • The nappy bag.
  • Inside the occupants’ shoes.
  • The toilets.
  • The bath.
  • The home office.
  • The spare room.
  • The Little Mister’s bedroom (all nooks, gaps, cupboards and baskets accounted for).
  • The lounge room.
  • The play pen.
  • The back of the Little Mister’s Cozy Coupe car.
  • Inside the pram.
  • All window sills.
  • Bins (confirmed by elbow deep search by Husband Unprepared after losing mini discussion over who should do it).
  • All adult height surfaces.
  • All of the home’s bed coverings.
  • The oven.
  • The microwave.
  • The washing machine.
  • Abandoned empty nappy boxes.
  • The high chair.

And several other areas, too numerous to mention.

While the search team remain hopeful of finding the remote control alive and in good working order, it is not known just how long it will take to make a successful rescue.

The suspect has been placed under close surveillance in the hopes that he will lead investigators to the hidden remote. This technique has been known to work with dogs, but success with human toddlers is yet to be determined.

There has been interest shown by local media in covering the case, but the suspect is reluctant to speak in case of incriminating himself. He appears to have developed his own language in order to avoid being caught via phone taps or bugging devices. Experts are trying to piece together his unique speech patterns, which sound much like the wild ramblings of a toddler as this report goes live.

644484_10151352241873218_919064556_nThis shot was taken of the suspect by a current affairs television show, when he was found hiding out on a luxury cruise liner.

For now, the Awesomely Unprepared family has found a compatible remote from another household television which will have to suffice until the correct remote is located. This cautionary tale has brought into question universal household protocol when dealing with remote controls in the future, to avoid repeat incidences. Investigators are reluctant to blame any adults at this time, but may suggest that a review into the Husband Unprepared’s habitual placement of the remote on the arm of the couch, may be needed. Kez Unprepared will smugly maintain that she has always kept the remotes above toddler reaching height.

If you should have any information pertaining to this case, or ideas pertaining to previous cases, please do not hesitate to comment on Facebook or tweet. If you are a toddler, there is a special hotline you can call on your toy phone. The number is 1, 2, 3, 4 or alternatively you can mash a bunch of buttons until a teddy bear picks up.

The Awesomely Unprepared family thanks you for your time and efforts.

 

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Kez’s Valentine’s Day Cupcake Recipe (hrmm).

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So, every year my husband and I do the same old dance around what the 14th of February means to us. We bitch and whine about how it’s a big, icky pink and red mess of commercialism at its best, but then we look at each other (usually always at the last minute) with raised eyebrows…could we? Should we? Would it be so bad? Thing is, I’m not one of those chicks who says, “Don’t worry about it this year…you don’t have to get me anything” and then gets mad when their partner doesn’t get them anything. I’m seriously non-plussed about the whole thing. I just read the disgusting dedications in the newspaper and laugh my arse off. Like the one year this guy sent identical messages to three different women…only, because they were identical, they were placed one after the other so it was reeeeeally obvious. BUSTED! Who doesn’t live for that kind of hilarity on Valentine’s day?? I like deciding on the couples with the grossest pet names for each other too. Too many ‘pookies’ for my liking.

*spews in own mouth a little*

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big sucker for love (quite the romantic at heart), but sometimes the scheduled PDAs get a little gross on the 14th. So many mushy, gushy posts on Facebook. There’s always that one person with OTT braggy pictures, “LOOK AT MY FIFTY DOZEN ROSES AND MY DIAMOND ENCRUSTED CUPCAKES, EVERYONE. I AM THE MOST LOVED – THE REST OF YOU CANNOT COMPARE.”

I like to celebrate a bit more quietly, I guess is all I’m saying. It’s gotta mean something to us, the couple, more than it has to mean something to everyone else we know. Who doesn’t like an excuse to show their loved ones that they care? On purpose? A little extra effort than usual? We don’t have anything to prove to anyone else.

Today I decided I had better do something. I’ve been feeling a little lovey dovey towards my husband lately (haha) and I kind of needed the excuse to make some small gestures of love, besides letting him play NBA 2K13 (or whatever it’s called) on his PS3 and letting him watch sports in the commercials of whatever I’m already watching (I am so romantic and generous).

I decided that a card and some special surprise treats would be in order. I almost chickened out, as I stood with the other scared husbands (it’s already Valentine’s Day but I know the hubby will understand because I haven’t been able to get out of the house for a few days) at the almost decimated Valentine’s Day card stand. Yes. I am a stereotypical straight man. I found a nice card that wasn’t hideous and had a nice message inside that I could add to, and the other husbands/boyfriends/booty calls and I scattered suddenly, like nothing had ever happened. I’ll keep your secret, boys. You bought that card WEEKS ago, right? *wink*

I have decided to make my husband our favourite chicken minestrone soup (sounds like a winter dinner but it’s so fresh and perfect for summer) and I am going to surprise him with some gorgeous cupcakes…

Which brings me to this…

Here’s the “recipe”* that I used to make my husband some Valentine’s Day cupcakes:

Kez’s Valentine’s Day Cupcakes (perfect baking for a stay at home mum of a toddler)

  • Consider baking your no-fail, awesomely tasty cupcake recipe from scratch. Remember that you’re kidding yourself, because you have a teething one year old and no other adults in the house, plus you are using an oven.
  • Go to the supermarket.
  • Buy the first obviously manufactured for Valentine’s day cupcake mix that comes with little heart candies to sprinkle on top.
  • Shake off any feelings of guilt at not making the ‘real’ thing – this part’s important.
  • Preheat your oven to 180 degrees celsius. Watch out for stray toddler. He’s distracted and doesn’t notice? You just earned yourself 50 points in Awesomeness.
  • The ‘recipe’ requires butter, milk and 2 eggs.
  • Freak out about the fact that the butter you swore you bought last time you were at the shops has disappeared and someone has replaced an empty container into the fridge. Find the new container of butter behind the beers…
  • Use up the last of the household’s milk. Oh well. Guess we’re not weaning you onto cow’s milk today, my little toddler friend (hehe actually the weaning process has been going great guns – a little cupcake related setback will not kill us). Tell husband to bring home milk. Don’t tell him why. It will ruin the surprise.
  • See the instructions on the back of the mix box that say you need to use an electric mixer. Think “F**k it, instructions are for pussies” and mix it by hand because, hey, you have upper body strength now. Carrying a toddler around is hard work. Celebrate that.
  • Spoon cupcake batter into patty cases.
  • Lick the bowl, because hey, you didn’t have breakfast today. Totally counts.
  • When you hear a knock on the door, rush to it while furiously wiping chocolate mix from your mouth (and surrounding areas). From the amused look of the guy delivering your surprise roses (from the sneaky husband!!!!!), you can deduce that you did not manage to wipe all choccy smudges off your face after all.
  • Place cupcakes into the oven for 20 minutes.
  • Play with your toddler, until the oven time goes off with a “BRRIIINGGGG”.
  • Run after your toddler to the oven (he loves that “BRRIIINGGG” sound) and tell him/her 10 times not to touch it because it’s “Ouch! Hot!” while making a ridiculous face that is supposed to represent pain. Just when you think you’ll never be able to open the oven safely, you realise that the cupcake recipe states 20-25 minutes baking time. You’ve bought yourself a couple of minutes because you only set the timer for 20. Also, your toddler will suddenly become distracted and run away to play with something at the last second. Another 50 points of Awesomeness. Well done!
  • Place the cupcakes on a rack to cool and take your toddler to bed for a nap. YOU WIN. EVERYONE ELSE CAN GO HOME NOW. YOU HAVE EARNT 100 POINTS OF AWESOME.
  • Later, you can ice your cupcakes with the Betty Crocker frosting you bought earlier.

TA-DAAAAAAAAAAAA.

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*It’s not really a recipe. I’m never going to be a food blogger, you understand? Cool.

Honestly, the way to a man’s heart is definitely through his stomach (well that’s one of two *naughty wink* – don’t read that, Mum), so I think I’m onto a winner. Also? Baking of any description, alone, with a toddler in the house? If that’s not true love, I don’t know what is!

How do you feel about Valentine’s day? Love it? Hate it? Indifferent (that’s us in a nutshell haha)?

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How to run the perfect household (yes this is a joke post).

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I find that all households (especially those with children inhabiting them) benefit from some good organisational systems. As the perfect housewife *cough splutter* I am about to share with you my amazing, foolproof secrets to success. I am not even going to charge you for accepting my life changing advice!

WHAT A DEAL!!

Let me start by saying that there are so many ways in which you can make your inner domestic goddess shine, despite having a busy lifestyle. I know this is controversial, but did you know that I can show you how to train your offspring from the age of 1 to assist you in your daily housework?

I KNOW!!!!!!!

Keep reading to find out how! I’ll give you step by step guides on how to transform various household tasks from dreary chores to happy housework!

THE SUSPENSE!!!!!!!!

Sorting clean laundry.

Step 1 – Remove items of clothing one by one from the washing line/clothes horse.

Step 2 – Hand each item to your child labourer to place in a basket.

Step 3 – Retrieve clothing items from the tupperware cupboard/playroom/couch/child’s mouth.

Step 4 – Place clothing items in basket.

Step 5 – Repeat steps 3 & 4 a few more times.

Step 6 – Have a glass of wine/nap/meltdown/call a friend/give up.

Voila!!!! Clean laundry, ready to sort!

Putting clean dishes away.

Step 1: Remove dishes from drying rack/dishwasher.

Step 2: Open appropriate kitchen cabinet with complicated child proofing device key thingy you installed a month ago and still cannot get the hang of.

Step 3: Remove toddler from kitchen cabinet.

Step 4: Swiftly place the dish/es in the cabinet.

Step 5: Repeat Step 3, Step 4, Step 3, Step 4 several times.

Step 6: Close cabinet.

Step 7: Comfort crying, broken hearted toddler.

You’re doing great!!!

Cleaning the floor.

Step 1: Wait until you notice your child eating assorted days old crumbs/fluff/dead insects. Decide if you will just let that take care of itself or move to Step 2.

Step 2: Well done for making it this far – someone got some sleep last night! Hurriedly run for a dustpan and brush (or dustbuster if you are rich and live in a filthy big mansion).

Step 3: Spot clean and leave until Step 1 presents itself again.

Housewife of the year!!!!!

Taking out the rubbish.

Step 1: When your child approaches the bin, say firmly “NO TOUCHING.”

Step 2: When your child puts their hands in the bin, say firmly “NO TOUCHING THE BIN. IT’S DIRTY AND ICKY.” and then make a grossed out face to demonstrate.

Step 3: Watch your child laugh in your face, before repeating steps 1 & 2.

Step 4: Put bin in garage/outside the house and shut the door.

Step 5: Forget about it.

You’re a star!

Visiting the supermarket for groceries.

Step 1: Think about it.

Step 2: Say, F*CK THAT.

Step 3: Order online.

You’re welcome!

So there you have it, dear readers! A few easy steps and you now have domestic bliss on your hands (or some other substances you can’t quite identify).

Ta-daaaaaaaaaaa!

And I’m out.

 

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