Tag Archives: trying to be a grown up

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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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Doing big person things.

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The Little Mister has become fascinated with any tasks that make him feel like he’s one of the big people. I can’t get the vacuum cleaner away from him. Which seemed like a great thing at the time, but now I’m beginning to have my doubts. It takes about 50 hours longer to get the floors clean. It is adorable, though.

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The Little Mister loves nothing more than sitting up at the table in a grown up chair and “reading” something. Sometimes it’s the newspaper and yesterday it was my day planner. He thought he was doing something very important :)

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I am convinced that the Little Mister will be a great stay at home dad one day haha. Although, when he was done being tender and nurturing with his teddy bear, he did slam him onto the floor unceremoniously so he could go and trash some magazines.

I hope you enjoyed these rare photos of the Little Mister. I don’t often post images of him on this blog.

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



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From one burnt out mother to…herself.

OK, so I’m feeling the need for some Monday motivation again. In light of my last blog post about my grandfather’s passing, I am feeling a little very burnt out and overwhelmed (to be honest I already was feeling a little worn out before it happened). I need some inpiration to get me through the next few weeks. We were already feeling pretty busy and under the pump – throw in a loss and the need to suddenly pick everything up and head off on an interstate trip and it all gets a bit crazy! I have so much to do in very little time (or money), with very little energy and I need to somehow find a way to make it through without being committed to a mental institution! Hello, people. I have to take a toddler on a plane too. I tried wine yesterday, but I was a total light weight and had to stop after two (smallish) glasses. So that’s not gonna fix it. I know what you’re thinking. WHAT? WINE DOESN’T FIX EVERYTHING? STOP THE WORLD. I WANT TO GET OFF. Just hang in there, I’m here for you. Or was that just what I was thinking? Never mind. Here for you anyway.

Here goes:

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OK, so I’m not entirely convinced this is true in ALL cases. Sometimes chaos is just something people are addicted to in their lives. However, in my particular case I would really like to believe this pretty, instagrammed bunch of words. I hope that all the things that I’ve been dealing with lately (not all of which are bloggable things) will bring me to a new clarity and peace in my life. I would like to learn something great about how to live my life better out of this and sometimes we have to deal with the crazy to get to the good.

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I like to think that I am generally a pretty positive person. However, when I’m struggling with this, I like to count my blessings and remember what I am grateful for. I am grateful for my family. Grateful for my true friends. I am grateful for the beautiful memories I have of my grandfather. I am grateful for my blog readers who allow me to express myself when I so very much need to.

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:)

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I want to do more of the “keep calm” part. Wish me luck.

While we’re on the subject of gratitude, I would like to let you know that my blog has now had over 20,000 hits. I am a small fish in the sea of bloggers so this makes me very grateful for all those who have visited my page. I now have over 100 Facebook likers, as well as 136 or so subscribers. You all make me very happy. Also, you are reading my 100th blog post right now.

Thanks! I hope you have a really great week. I’m going to try my darndest. If that’s not a word, I don’t care.

xo

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Pinning at life. Well, before I ‘pin out of control.

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Hmm. I usually try to blog at least once a week, but I must admit I’ve been preoccupied. I’m feeling that honeymoon phase of the new year where you try to put all of your resolutions into action all at once and it’s too early to be disappointed in myself! It’s great! I mean, check in with me by say, March, and I’ll let you know if all has been abandoned, but so far so good!

I have a confession. When Pinterest started to get all like a big deal and shiz, I just kind of pathetically signed up, pinned a couple of things and promptly lost (p)interest. I’m not really a stayer when it comes to that stuff. I didn’t really get why every person with a house/child/body/cat wearing mittens really got so into it. Now? In 2013? I’m kind of addicted. Not like fully addicted, spending all day every day looking for a Pinteresty hit. I’m really still just dabbling and kidding myself that it won’t take over my whole life one day and then I’ll have to go to Pinterest rehab (after a Pinterest intervention where my loved ones are all, “At first we understood the allure and loved that you were so inspired, but babe, when are you actually going to do all the sh*t you’ve pinned?”) and I’ll be all like, “No, no no”, which will ultimately lead to my demise where I am found clutching my iPhone in one hand and a failed craft project in the other, the life gone out of me and all I can hope for is that someone will say (as they shake their head sadly), “A tragedy. But at least she lived a (p)interesting life…”

Wait, what was I saying??

Anyway, the simplest things have got me thinking about my house. My home. What I want it to say about itself and about my family and about where we live. Quite simply? It needs to say COASTAL BEACH PARADISE SANCTUARY. Which isn’t an actual sentence, so much as words strung together, but it paints a nice picture. I’ve always tried to achieve this look, but fell short when it came to dedicating the right amount of time, money and energy to the cause. I don’t want to get my real estate mad husband excited, but the idea of one day selling the place is at the back of my mind and I really want our house to be something we’re proud of and that will look like something someone would want to buy. Also? I want it to be a place where I really want to be. Like having a dream holiday house that’s actually… your house!

It’s so great. I’ve totally got the bug and it only took a couple of things to make me all excited. I found a gorgeous canvas at the local markets for only $39 and it has gorgeous shells, sand and beachy things on it. The colours complement my home (and my living room’s basic colour themes). I am still congratulating myself on actually buying it. The old (soooo 2012) me would have talked myself out of it for no bloody good reason! Another thing was my husband’s motivation to finally put some new plants in the planter at the front of our house. Guess weeds aren’t really that fashionable these days. I was being a picky little monster about it and forced him to google images of every known plant to man before I would make a decision. Most of this search consisted of him showing me a picture of some grassy thing and me saying, “That is going to just be a feral mess one day. I am not going to have a feral mess out the front of my damn house.”

Finally, we found these:

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Apparently, they’re called Silver Cushion and are just gorgeous! They flower with little yellow buds, but what I love is the silver foliage. Why? It reminds me of beach holidays, where the coastal scrub is everywhere and you just know you’re near the ocean. This sent me on a Pinterest rampage last night, let me tell you (might even explain my lack of blogging lately).

Now I just have to keep those bastards alive. Wish me luck. Apparently plants need water and stuff to survive? Who knew.

Here is some of the stuff I’ve been pinning:

Source: curbly.com via Kez on Pinterest

Source: jossandmain.com via Kez on Pinterest

 

Yep. And that’s only the beginning!! My creative juices are well and truly flowing (ew)!!!

How would you like to decorate your dream home? What do love about your home?

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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.

 

You can click here to ‘like’ me on Facebook!

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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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It’s not just my voice.

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Note: This post is quite emotionally revealing and has been difficult for me to write (it’s taken a few weeks), but I felt it was important to express because I am sure I’m not the only new mum going through it.

All my life I’ve been a very strong minded (some may be reckless enough to accuse me of being stubborn) person. I’ve always known what I’ve wanted and how I feel about certain issues. Which is mostly a good character trait to have, and occasionally I learn the hard way. Luckily I do usually learn pretty well from my mistakes, but I like that I am passionate about my beliefs (while trying to be open minded enough to change those beliefs when necessary).

However, if you asked some of the people who know the ‘outside’ me (those who aren’t in my household or my immediate family) about this trait, they might look at you funny. When something doesn’t sit well with me or I feel confronted, I dither about, overexplain my position or pretend it’s all good when it isn’t. Sometimes I’ll even be silly enough to ignore my gut instincts, because I’m scared of what people will think if I do my own thing. I could get all psychoanalytical about how I think it’s a fear of not belonging, brought about by my ultimate rejection as a baby (leading to my adoption), but to keep things short and simple, I care too much about what people might say if I go against the grain. It doesn’t ultimately stop me in most cases and I might appear strong and sure of my decisions in the end, but it usually comes after a massive inner struggle that can last for days (or more appropriately 3am moments at night)!

Since I fell pregnant with the Little Mister, I’ve had to be mentally strong time and time again. I’ve had to find courage inside myself, in order to speak my truth. You see, it’s no longer just my truth anymore. My voice is no longer just mine. I have this little guy in my life who cannot speak yet. He cannot make wise life decisions that affect his wellbeing. I have the highest honour, the biggest responsibility. His dad and I must be his voice. I will sometimes have to be strong and make unpopular decisions or do something people might not agree with if I know in my heart that it’s for the best.

It is my duty to be strong and assertive. To carve my own way where my little family is concerned. I can’t dither about, ignore my instincts or doubt myself constantly just because some people out there may be ignorant or judgemental. I need to realise that we (my little family) don’t have to answer to anyone. We’re good people, we’re proactively educated, and we will always do our best to raise our baby.

I respect other parents and their choices. I am not perfect and I do judge occasionally (like when a pregnant woman says she’s going to drink Red Bull all night at the club – overheard on the train usually), but I do believe that being a new parent is hard enough as it is. Every parent is different and every baby is different. Most of us grow up relatively OK. Some may have more issues than others, but we all do what I believe is the best with what we know how at the time. If we know better, we do better and I always try to know as much as I can.

I guess what I’m saying here is that we might falter sometimes when we speak up for ourselves as individuals and we might ignore our own needs when we shouldn’t, but since having the Little Mister I have learnt a very valuable lesson in using my voice because right now, it’s his voice too. I have to get over myself. I have to stay strong. I don’t have to get confrontational (that’s not always constructive), but I have to believe in myself, not doubt what I believe in and quietly do my own thing anyway (without tearing myself to pieces with guilt or fear about it).

I don’t want to stand up on my somewhat unsteady soapbox and go on about how I’m a mother and all others should bow down because I’m the first person to ever have a baby. I just have to set limits and draw lines. I have to take calculated risks and believe in the fact that no-one knows my baby (or my family) better than my husband or I do. I have to stop listening to those who love to judge someone else (even worse when it’s other mothers who should know better), because they are probably insecure themselves and don’t know how else to feel OK about their own choices.

It’s not just me anymore. Someone else is depending on me and I take that responsibility very seriously. If I ignore my gut feeling where his needs are concerned because I’m scared someone will tell me I’m doing it wrong (even though it’s actually none of their business), then I’m not doing my job. I’m always open to learning and improving, but I need to trust my ability in seeking out the right answers and not blindly follow someone else.

When the Little Mister was born, I felt thrust into the unknown (in both the best and the scariest way). I wanted to show that I was eager to learn and I wanted to trust in the fact that billions of people on this earth have given birth before me. If I had my time over (and maybe I will one day) I would stand up to the people I was scared of. I would trust more in my intuition. I would tell the well intentioned midwives that I didn’t want them to grab my nipples when showing me how to breastfeed – that I could tell my baby knew exactly what to do without them grabbing me the third, fourth and fifth times. I would tell them I was too stressed to express every hour if they all kept walking in the hospital room and watching me each time I had a quiet moment and that it wasn’t helping my milk to come in. I would say that the real reason I was crying on day 3 of my hospital stay was because it was unnatural that I hadn’t seen my baby the first three days of his life and that my painkilling drugs had worn off making me realise that I was p*ssed off that they were acting like it was normal that he wasn’t with me – not because of stupid baby blues (they didn’t help but they weren’t the real reason). I would tell my friends that it’s OK that my Little Mister doesn’t spend a lot of time overnight with his grandparents so I can go out more, because I feel like it’s my job (and my pleasure) to be with him when I can. I am still teaching him to manage his separation anxiety and he gets plenty of time without us (let’s go easy on him – he’s 5 months and 3 weeks old), and I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything in my life. I don’t know if they think about any of this, but I worry that they do. I just have to be OK with my decisions and wear them with confidence. The Little Mister’s doing great (all the usual baby maladies aside) and so am I! We’re happy :)

I need to tell people it’s not OK to just rock up at my house with very little warning and start making noise during the Little Mister’s bathing, feeding and bed time unless they’re planning on staying the night in his room. ;) I need to be able to say, “Sorry I can’t afford that. Our income is limited right now and we’re channeling our funds into our family home or the baby’s needs, before we start spending on other things. Some months will be tighter than others.”  and not just try to keep up when it’s simply not possible, out of the fear that people will think we’re tightwads or will start analysing our spending. “Oh, I saw her buying a $4 magazine last week. She can’t be THAT poor.”

That’s not everyone else’s voice. That’s the mean voice inside my own head. Stupid voice. The nice voice should remind the mean voice that my husband and I work very hard to budget our cash and we believe in living a balanced life. Our finances are our own business and they don’t stop us from living our life. So to hell with what some hypothetical, imaginary mean person might think!

And now I sound crazy with all this talk about voices in my head and imaginary people…moving right along…

I need people to understand what it’s like to have a baby – the challenges, the need for stability and the energy it requires. Sometimes I just have to ask tell everyone straight out what I want or what the Little Mister needs as an individual (not all babies are the same in a situation). They might not actually be mindreaders (!) and it’s not fair to assume that they will understand a situation they’re not familiar with or that they haven’t lived.

Most importantly, along this journey into parenthood, I’ve noticed a pattern. Every time I ignore my gut instinct because I’m worried about what people will think, I take a bit of a detour down the wrong path. From now on, I am going to try harder to stay true to myself and my family. I need to trust that those in my life are strong too and they can handle my truth.

If I don’t stand up for my Little Mister, who will?

Have you ever found it difficult to stray away from the pack or speak your truth (this is not just a mummy specific question)?

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It has to happen sooner or later.

Pic: Those are just cordial, right? I have to wake up in the morning, you know.

Last week I went out for dinner with The Girls. It was a nice, casual mid week meal, with lots of chatterboxes sitting all around the one table at a local fish and chips joint. Of course we’d rearranged the long tables so we could all see each other and therefore maximise the amount of different conversations we could participate in all at the one time (there are a healthy number of us). The guys just wouldn’t understand haha.

I was in such a good mood and the baby was at home sleeping, with my husband on duty that I did something wild and crazy. I went to the pub (where I ordered a non alcoholic drink) and stayed there for a WHOLE 45 minutes extra (after clearing it with my husband because I wanted to be considerate).

I know. I’m out of control. Next step? Rehab. Clearly.

Oh and sadly, just that little jaunt had me feeling tired all the next morning. I have shamed myself. It’s all over.

You know what, though? I was actually happy with that! I had a fantastic time, I had a short but much needed break from looking after the Little Mister (coming off the back of two weeks of him not being so well) and it was fun seeing my friends and talking about things that weren’t all baby, baby, baby (and no I’m not going to break out into a Justin Bieber song). OK, so sometimes we talked about babies. There were three of us mummies and one mummy to be in the group after all :)

Then this last Saturday evening, I was driving home from a quick trip to the shops to return some DVDs to the rental shop (yes we still rent DVDs from an actual shop). It got me thinking. What would I have been doing at that time on a Saturday night before I fell pregnant (not much more than a year ago)?

Oh, that’s right. I would have been making/buying myself a terrible dinner consisting of either hot chips, something else that was processed and stuck in the oven or maybe breakfast cereal (the pre-nightclubbing breakfast dinner of champions)! I would have most likely been home alone because my husband was working away a lot at that point (FIFO) and my stereo would have been loud as I sang along to every brand new song I’d had time to listen to, download and sync to my iPod. I would have finished dinner and started trying on every outfit in my wardrobe, just wandering aimlessly from room to room of my house for a few hours until magically, I was looking amazingly dolled up and somehow all the clothes I’d ever owned (we’re talking short skirts, sexy tops and little black dresses) were on my bed. I would shrug my shoulders and think “Oh well, I’ll get to that later”. I’d head out at say 9pm and the night’s events would go as follows:

- Hang out in a seedy pub with my friends

- Declare it too seedy for ladies such as ourselves to be seen in (bahaha)

- Move to another bar where we’d decide it was too quiet

- Have a deep and meaningful discussion/argument over when was too early/late to head to a nightclub

- Dance about in one club and decide the music was too crap

- End up at the nightclub which is named after an exotic bird, but is not really an exotic place but at least the music was alright and the dancefloor was always just full enough and usually I’d run into my brother and his friends or a bunch of other people we knew

- Decide we’d had enough of clubbing when the music turned into crazy rave beats and a headache started setting in

I’d then go home, crawl into bed (after shoving all my clothes that I’ve ever owned onto the floor), pass out and wake up at 10am the next day (which is when I’d do the dishes from my awful dinner and put my clothes away).

I would spend all of Sunday morning lying on the couch watching trashy shows on my DVR and loving every moment of it!

Oh how things change!

Nowadays I spend most of my weekend nights in (not including casual dinners at other peoples’ houses), unless there’s something really really important on like an engagement party or wedding. I whiz about getting ready in a matter of minutes (not dawdling for hours) and find myself dressed in clothes that cover all my stretch marks (which I picked out in my mind HOURS OR DAYS AGO in order to save time). If I’m feeling particularly wild and rebellious I will throw on a necklace and earrings (stuff a baby normally loves to grab and pull). I might even have time to blowdry some volumiser through my hair! Sometimes I can even convince myself that I can still rock a smokey eye or a bit of snazzy eye shadow. Yes, I just used the word “snazzy”. The transformation to dorky parent is almost complete. The only need for multiple outfit changes is if the baby spews on me, dribbles on me or proves that I am likely to have a wardrobe malfunction later (by pulling things apart with his little monkey hands).

I’m usually home long before midnight and as I sneak my sleeping babe (who might have stayed a few hours at his grandparents’ place) to bed, I feel relieved that everything’s fine and in the morning I’ll have enough energy to enjoy him.

This month it’s all going to change. Not entirely by my choice. You see, I’m part of a bridal party for a wedding and where there’s a wedding there’s also a hens night to plan and execute. There are also several planning meetings and related commitments. I am so excited for my beautiful friend and bride to be, as well as honoured to be given such an important and special role in her big day, but this forces my hand. I have to face the fact that at some point this month I am going to have to let someone else look after my little man for a WHOLE NIGHT at a time. I’m going to have to let someone else feed him, change him, bathe him, settle him and know when he needs to nap. I know that all of his grandparents are very capable people (hello – my husband and I are alive and kicking so that proves it right?) but you see, I am a worry wart.

Don’t get me wrong. I have left him in his grandparents’ capable care several times for a while at a time. I don’t mind if other people cuddle, feed or bathe him (and they have – I’ve just always been around). I’ve just never attempted a throwback to my old life since he was born. I’ve never left all that responsibility to someone else completely for 24 hours or so. I know that those who care for the Little Mister will do a great job and even if it’s not the same way I’d do it, he will come out of it alive and happy in the end (even if his sleep is a bit off). It’s more that I worry for his loving, generous babysitters. What if they have a bad time with him because they don’t know him the way I do (all those little tricks that seem specific to his quirky personality)?? I don’t want to just be someone who dumps their grumpy baby with someone and forgets about it for the night. I think I’d feel bad! I also don’t want to leave some kind of mum-zilla like 10 page document with them on how to care for him because, well…that would be insane and insulting!

I’m going to have to relax. Or be sedated. Hmm. Carefree and childfree no longer belong in the same sentence! Child free? Not so care free!

I’m sure I’ll let you know how it all went (perhaps I’ll like it so much I’ll hire a nanny and become a professional party animal who wears skimpy leopard print and stripper shoes all the time) – how my life has turned upside down in the last year!!

What are you worrying about this week? Let it all out – free therapy :)

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Remember back in the days when we used to sleep?

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All my life I’ve been a good sleeper. Apart from a bit of the “I’m Scared of Monsters” childhood period and the “Teenage Angst is Eating me up Inside” period, I’ve done fairly well. I loved my eight hours of sleep a night and thrived on the occasions I could get ten! A bad night? Six hours. It was enough to make me a little bit homicidal. A night out on the town? Look, I’d need the usual eight, plus a few more to get me less…drunk and grumpy.

Oh how things change!

At the moment, we’re dealing with the Little Mister’s recovery from his four month old immunisation needles. I’d heard horror stories about sleepless nights, fevers, screaming (and that was just the parents)! I tried to mentally prepare myself for the worst case scenario of zombie-tired-to-ridiculousness. You just don’t know what that is until it actually happens to you.

Last night because I was so tired, my husband kindly offered to look after the Little Mister all night. I decided to sleep out on the couch where it would be quieter. So what happens? I go to sleep only I dream that I’m trying to sleep on the couch, but I can’t! Only I was sleeping all along. It was VERY CONFUSING and NOT VERY RELAXING (kind of like watching the movie Inception)! However, I did appreciate that I was able to have some rest – even if I didn’t know it at the time.

I now know what it is to be so tired you do embarrassing things like forget your handbag when you go to the shops and not realising until you’ve rung up a few items on someone’s till – how convenient. Crying in the car and not even caring if anyone sees you because you’re that tired you don’t know what else to do (and yes – you’re fully aware that it’s weird how people even let you drive a heavy vehicle in the first place but who else will if you won’t?). Doing that zombie shuffle with a shopping trolley in a department store, walking around aimlessly (even though I used to hate those people). That constant tense feeling as you lie in bed willing your baby to go to sleep (using telepathic powers you think might be faulty).

I am sad to say that there is no magical cure for the tiredness that comes with being a new parent. Just management of a challenging situation. Little tips, tricks and coping strategies! I’m far from perfect and perfectly bad at taking perfectly good advice, but here are some things that have helped me:

Focusing on the Positives
Waaaaaay easier said than done, yet rewarding if you can force yourself to do it. Just use your head (go through the motions even if you’re not really feeling it) and your heart will catch up.

Perfect example? Some douche-bag made a sarcastic comment at me in the shopping centre today and even though these types of people and their remarks mean nothing to me on a not-so-tired day, today it cut me to pieces and I wanted to bawl. I kept walking and I gave myself a lecture. Forget what he said, he isn’t worth your time or your precious energy. I didn’t believe it to be honest, but I got outside and tried to compose myself while I unpacked my shopping trolley. I only had one large shopping bag and a big box of nappies to put in my car, but I was over tired and struggling to be coordinated (something I am not good at when I’m energised)! A kind lady walked up to me and said, “You look like you could use an extra pair of hands! Can I help you?”

I said with forced cheerfulness, “No don’t worry – I’ll get it. I’m alright. I’m just a little overtired and having trouble using my brain.”
She looked me straight in the eye with warmth and said, “You’re not alright. Here.”
She lifted the nappy box and placed it in my arms so it was easy for me to carry. I thanked her profusely and got in my car. Where I bawled. The kindness of a stranger made me feel so touched. She thought she was just helping in a tiny way to make someone’s day easier. Just a short moment of her time. What she didn’t know was that I had just felt horrible about someone’s mean comment, I was close to comatose with fatigue and her kindness had actually made my whole day. It came at the exact moment I needed it. She may never know just how much a small random act of kindness made a hell of a difference.

I truly believe in the power of thought and my determination to be positive and not let someone mean get me down brought me such a lovely lady to prove to me that things can be good. People can be good.This kind of stuff happening in my life inspires me so much. You just never know when that tiny thing you did for a stranger might have saved their day or even their life.

Which brings me to the next thing that helps: The Kindness of Others.

It can be the kindness of a stranger as I’ve just described or it can be the love of those in your support networks. Sometimes just a reassuring comment on facebook, a hug from a loved one or an offer to look after your baby so you can rest can make all the difference.

I am blessed because I have caring family (inlaws included), a proactive parent for a husband (even if he does have this amazing ability to sleep through a crazy amount of crying baby sounds and needs a nudge occasionally), great friends (parents and non parents) and a mothers group (all with babies the same age).

We share messages and advice all the time. I love that if I need someone to listen – they’re there. If I need advice, there’s always someone with wisdom to share. It’s incredibly comforting.

Just be aware that in such a delicate, fatigued state people’s amazing kindness WILL make you cry like a baby (and cry they will). Avoid too much eye make-up…

And oh, God. I LOVE the INTERNET. It can be hard to find the time to get on here, but a sneaky moment with a smart phone to keep in touch with those who care can be a blessing :)
I know some new parents feel that they are too busy to fit some Facebook into their lives, but I’m telling you – set up an account. If you can get on there even for five minutes on your phone in the evenings, the support to be found there can be priceless. Also, it keeps you connected to the “outside” “adult” world – great when you’ve spent days housebound with an out of sorts baby!

Forcing Myself to Rest
Yep, another Easier Said than Done. The old (non parental) me would have found this incredibly easy. Had a long week? Just put your feet up, sit in front of the telly (oh DVR I lurrrrve you) and do jacksh*t all weekend while washing, dishes, and other household tasks just stacked up around me (hey I never said I was a domestic goddess). I would nap at a moment’s notice and I would let myself not feel bad for the stuff I didn’t get done.

Now as soon as the Little Mister has a sleep, I see washing that needs to be done, dishes piled up around the kitchen sink, dinners that need to be prepared, bottles that need to be washed, sterilised and made up. I see all the things that I “should” have done earlier and I can drive myself crazy trying to do it all because I only get limited time.

Lately I’ve been completely exhausted. I’ve had to force myself to lie on the couch and even if I can’t nap while the little guy is napping (as every damn trendy baby book keeps telling me to do), I have to promise myself that I will turn my brain off. Watch some trashy show I’ve recorded or fluff about on Facebook. I have to stop looking at the housework and start chilling out. It will all get done eventually.

I’ve tried this twice now (haha – yes two whole times) and it can actually be good. At first you just stress more, but if you make an effort to let it go everything just feels nice :)

Not Lying there Awake while the Baby Sleeps
We’ve all done it. Laid there awake, stiff as a board, afraid to move in case the baby isn’t really sleeping but is about to wake up any second and you’ll have to get up again. It’s taken me a while (try four whole months and then some), but I’ve realised that it’s actually not the most constructive way to deal with things.

It’s probably better to get five minutes of sleep by letting your guard down, than none at all! I think I’ve always had the attitude of, “What if I let my guard down, juuuust start falling asleep nicely and then I am rudely awakened? Won’t I be more frustrated and feel worse?”

Perhaps, so. But in the end, when sleep is really scarce, we need to take what we can get! It might not feel so nice in the moment, but when the morning comes and we’ve taken a deep breath before starting another long day, a few more minutes of sleep throughout the night can make all the difference! For me it makes the difference between juuuust getting through the day, with a massive energy slump in the afternoon and being able to plod along steadily with enough energy to get me to dinner time (when I collapse on the couch and declare I’m having an early night).

It really does help. Either that or I’ve just become a zombie on autopilot and have somehow become acclimatised to this new sleeplessness.

Living in the Moment
This piece of advice came from my mum via sms today. In essence she was saying not to get overwhelmed by seeing stretches of days and nights of sleeplessness and fatigue ahead. Just be in each minute or hour. Just get through each one and eventually what overwhelmed you will be over and dealt with. That’s not to say a new set of challenges won’t arise again shortly after, but again I guess if you just take it hour by hour, day by day, task by task then you’ll get through that too!

Gotta love a seasoned mother’s wisdom!

There’s lots of great advice out there on coping with not having much energy. I could look into my iron levels, improve my diet (eating things that are low GI and won’t make me feel horrid afterwards) and get to the exercise level where I actually feel more energised afterwards and not absolutely shattered! I try to do some good things like drink a lot of water, avoid falling on crutches like giant cans of red bull or become coffee addicted and go to bed at a reasonable hour. Sometimes all the advice we keep hearing just doesn’t seem too easy to put into practice or it involves more energy than I actually have in the first place. I am trying to keep it simple and achievable – baby steps! I try to think of any progress as a good thing. The other night, the Little Mister had a period where he slept for 3 and a half hours straight (after spending two nights waking up every 45 minutes – damn needles!) and I choose to see that as a small victory!

How do you manage your fatigue?

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I used to think “nesting” was a myth.

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Seriously. I thought nesting was just some excuse for already crazy clean freaks/domestic goddesses to get their OCD on during pregnancy. I thought there was little to no chance that I would ever succumb to such a thing. We’re talking about a lady who thinks using a “just add water” muffin mix counts as baking (and is oddly proud of this). Someone who thinks scrapbooking and crafts are lame-o. That doing dishes is optional (or only a requirement if something’s gonna stink or there aren’t any clean forks left or visitors are coming – even then, meh). Same goes for ironing. Let’s face it, I am not by any stretch of the imagination any kind of 50s housewife. In fact, until recently I wouldn’t have even considered myself a housewife at all. I probably was more the stereotype of a slobby bloke in disguise, much to the bemusement of my domestically capable husband.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fleeting episodes of Spring Cleaning Madness or house proud moments. And I won’t let things get Hoarders/How Clean is Your House cray cray. But I’ve never really enjoyed doing housework or catering for people. Those things are just activities to keep you from catching diseases or losing all your friends.

Right? Right.

So when I entered the second trimester of pregnancy (the first one was terribly tiring and I had no appetite), boy did I start making up for lost time! I’ve been baking at least twice a week. Trying new recipes, making things *gasp* from scratch. Cooking for other people and loving it. I even have a baking ‘kit’ with all the basic ingredients I could ever need – just in case I get the urge to create something delicious! I’ve been ironing clothes I might not even wear that day! I even undertook a crafts project for my dad’s birthday present – I was so obsessed with putting together a scrapbook style photo album of Mum and Dad’s recent holiday to Bali that I spent roughly 8 hours on it one evening (in between baking cupcakes and getting the husband to and from a work function of course). I have paint colour samples adorning the nursery wall and fabric for curtains all ready to go (and by ‘go’ I mean to my mum’s house where she will inevitably end up doing all the hard sewing stuff because no matter how much I might be nesting – I will never LOVE/LIKE/BE GOOD AT sewing). I’ve even bought a couple of cute jumpsuits for the baby and I’m actually getting super clucky. What is going on?!

AND? The cupcakes I made the other day were amazingly pretty, tasty and not hard as rocks or sad looking or anything. Just so you know.

I’ve mastered home made sausage rolls, choc chip cookies, choc chip and banana muffins, banana and sultana bread, self saucing chocolate pudding and cupcakes galore. Probably not a big deal to the average super-human home chef, but a massive deal for a pleb like me!

Last week I even enjoyed shopping for a new fridge and I am excited about researching good washing machines. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I’ve started to watch (and get sucked into) Masterchef for the first time. Ever. I know.

I always hoped I would turn out like this one day (despite turning my nose up at this kind of lifestyle out of fear of becoming a mini van driving soccer mum). I mean, it’s kind of nice Getting Stuff Done. My whole attitude has changed. It kind of makes life easier! I’m sure it will all go to sh*t when the baby arrives but I like feeling Capable and Motivated and Creative when it comes to my home life. It isn’t just the place I crash in after spending most of my life out and about,  and food isn’t just something I have to convince myself to make. It’s something I like to create.

I’m still no super Domestic Goddess (you don’t want to see the state of my bathroom on a bad day), but I’m definitely a clucky little bird fluffing about in her nest :)

Are you a Domestic Goddess/God or a Hot Household Mess? ;)