Waxing Philosophical

I remember, very clearly, the exact moment in which I realised that parents were people too.

I was 18 years old, sitting in the back of a tiny white sports car next to a bilingual Italian toddler, about to go over the alps from France to Italy, and I was talking to her Mum as though she were my peer. It suddenly struck me as crazy that this cool lady, just a few years older than me, should have given birth to, and now be solely responsible for, a human child.

This shocked me, to suddenly realise that parents were people too. More than that, that they were people who were like me, who had no more idea about raising kids than any other new parent. I remember looking at the toddler in shock and thinking, how are you still alive? How have you made it this far? And then looking back at her mum and thinking, aren't you afraid constantly? How do you know what to do?

Ridiculous as it may sound, I think we can all agree, that as children, we really believe that our Parents are not like our friends, they aren't like our aunties and uncles and they certainly aren't like our teachers or grandparents. Our Parents, were our Parents. That was all there was to it. They existed because we existed, not the other way around. 

Growing up, I trusted implicitly that my mum could make me feel better, that she would never let me go hungry, that I would always have clothing and books and that I'd never get too sick or injured that she couldn't fix it. I believed that my dad could protect us from everything, that we would always have at least some money, and that regardless of whatever happened, nothing would go terribly wrong because they were my Mum and Dad. They were my parents. With them around, everything would always be ok.

I see the same expectation in Little Beans smile, in her soft spoken baby conversations that she has with me, running her fingers over my face and cooing and gahing while we both stare into the others eyes. I see the unquestioning trust she has in me that everything will always be alright for her, and while my heart melts in those moments, at the same time I find myself dying from the fear of what I now know to be true.

I am just a person. I will do everything I can, but what if that is not enough? What if I can't be there for her? What if I can't make her better? What if I can't protect her from that stranger?

Poor Bean has her first cold, and last night, at 1:30am, developed her first cough. It's still unbelievable to me, how visceral my reactions to her pain are. When she cries, I tense up. When she is in pain, my heart literally aches. When she started coughing, each cough was like sandpaper inside my chest, and the fear in my stomach doubled with each one. Is it whooping cough? Croup? Pneumonia? Do we need to take her to the hospital? And with all that, the far too familiar feeling of anxiety, what if I can't make her better? What if, what if, what if....

Being a parent does not make you superhuman. You don't lose your previous identity by becoming a Mum or Dad. Being a parent simply makes you love someone like you never thought possible, and you live in constant fear of not being enough for them. In short, being a parent, is terrifying.

Three Mummies and a Baby

Fighting the Morose Ghost

It's been a week now since I had to accept yet again, that MG was back with a vengeance. In hindsight, I should have seen it coming, all the signs were there. I went through a crazy super productive couple of weeks, decided to put on another show, started a new book, updated a website, started a new website, relaunched my business, spent a lot of money, got a lot of refunds equally as fast, told mothers and babies that I wanted to be discharged, that I was fine and coping great, was so amped up that I stopped sleeping and then BAM, MG hit me with a sledge hammer and said 'hell no! This stops here, EVERYTHING stops here.'

I can't believe I didn't see it coming. But there you have it, I didn't see it coming. I may have had an inkling that all this productivity wasn't going to end well, but still, as usual I tricked myself into believing that this time was different, that this time I really did have it under control, that I had all the plans in place to deal with any relapses and in fact to prevent those relapses from occurring altogether. 

I was wrong.

I guess it's time to accept that old Morosey will probably be with me permanently, always trying to win his battle and convince me to be his besty. That we should just hang out all the time, and give up trying so hard to avoid each other. Well, at least, I try to avoid him, I think he has a crush on me.

I came up with a plan (again). I have created this awesome chart in an effort to keep playing hard-to-get. The idea behind it is that when MG gets too close, I start to pike on people, I avoid going out, and lose the motivation to do anything other than sit at home wishing that Bean would just go to sleep so I could sit and be sad in peace. The lack of external motivation present when you are a SAHM (stay at home mum) is killer. It is far too easy to just give up.

So, I have split every week day into mornings and afternoons. There are some things that happen regularly (and free) around town for mums and babies, so I've listed them on there, but everything else is free space. Times of nothing. Times where you have to be motivated enough to actually plan something then put it into action. Because believe me, there is NO JUST POPPING OUT with a baby. 

I went on the interweb and looked at all the free and under $10 things you can do in chch with a baby. Then I divided them into four categories.  Picnic, Nature/Animals, Learning, Water

So, with any luck, all I have to do on one of those long empty days is decide which of those four things I most feel like doing and then pull out a random card.

 I stuck velcro on the back of them because I was just that motivated that afternoon.

And stick the activity on the chart. 

VOILA! Activities planned. Now we have something to do. 

At least that's the plan. Little Bean has yet to establish a solid day time nap routine, so more often than not, things go a little awry. But at least I feel like I have an external motivator now, and that is really something!

Breast Is Best!

This, is what greeted me when I went to look up some information on whether you can store a made-up bottle of formula in the fridge or not.

I mean seriously, I had to click 'I accept' in order to continue into the site to access the information I was looking for. Thank god I didn't go to the official Heinz Nurture Formula website before I was finally ok with my decision to stop breastfeeding. This probably would have prolonged my misery and Little Beans frustration. If that weren't enough, there is even this important notice on the formula tin:

Just in case we didn't already know.

With all these warnings being forcibly shoved down our throats, how is one able to jump to any conclusion other than 'formula is dangerous'. Clearly, I shouldn't even think about feeding it to my Baby unless I have spoken with a doctor first. It must be far more dangerous than anyone lets on, oh hang on, they do let on. They let on that it's far more dangerous than it can possibly be. Because if it was really this dangerous then it would be illegal.

What should be illegal, is all this vitriol and endless in-your-face campaign to promote breast-feeding at the expense of all else. Yes, for those who have no problems breastfeeding, then that is the best thing by far. But if you are one of the unlucky ones - who by the way, would have lost their child, or resorted to cows milk or even found a wet nurse in the past - then the mental angst that results from your inability to breastfeed without issue, means that you are made to suffer unnecessarily, when there is a more than ok alternative to feed your little one.

Sorry for the constant changing!

A quick note to all you readers - for the next couple of days you may find that every time you visit my blog it looks completely different! I'm sorry about this, I really am. But I am trying to make it look awesome and since I'm still a relatively new blogger, this is taking a lot of trial and error! For instance, I love this modern dynamic view, but it doesn't allow any fun buttons on the side...So I'm giving myself this weekend to finalise the new look :) Check in on Monday to see what I come up with! Thanks for your patience.

Morose Ghost Round Two

So, Morose Ghost. I see you aren't done with me yet. I'd like to say it's good to see you, but it's really not. I don't like the way you trick me into thinking everything is great and that I'm doing awesome and no longer need the Morose-Ghost-Movers. I think it's mean that you wait until I've told them goodbye before you creep up and haunt me once more. 

MG it's an unfair advantage you have in this fight. The way you can sap my energy and make exhausted days last forever, yet steal my sleep at night.

Morose Ghost, I don't think it's fair that you can get into my head and make me think things that frighten me. That thought yesterday, you know the one, where you told me that if I vanished now my daughter wouldn't know any different and she'd never have to feel pain about it, that was cruel MG. That was unkind.

You are a tricky ghost, Morose. Each time you leave I truly believe that I've beaten you, that finally I've found your kriptonite, but then you sneak back up on me, just when things seem to be finally moving onwards and upwards. Just when I'm feeling like I can do this life thing, you tap me on the shoulder and whisper 'remember me?' But you needn't ask, Morose Ghost, I remember you far too well.

So you want to have this out with me yet again, do you MG? Well bring it on if you must. I'm battle worn and hardened by now. You may manage to wear me down some more this time round, perhaps I'll temporarily lose a little more spark and maybe you'll succeed in holding me hostage in my head and away from life outside for a time. But you wont won't be abke to keep me there for long, Morose Ghost. You will not beat me. 

A selfish and Ungrateful Day

Today began as one of those days, where I desperately, desperately did not want to get out of bed. I was even secretly hoping that today might be given to me as a day where Baby Bean slept for its entirety without anything being wrong. Today, I wanted, nay needed

A DAY OFF.

Today I wished (not for the first time) that I was my Husband. That I could get up in the morning, say goodbye to sleepy bean and exit the door in clothes guaranteed to remain clean until I returned home nine hours later. That I could safely predict by my watch, what time I would eat morning tea and lunch. That I could sit down and complete my reports and paperwork in uninterrupted half hour stretches and then, after a stressful day working in adult-land, I could drive home, looking forward to seeing my baby in whatever state she was in.

Unfortunately, today, like every other day, my wish remained ungranted.

Instead, I was forced out of bed to calm a crying baby. Changed her, fed her, changed her again after getting pumpkin all through her hair. Realised I needed to get dressed but delayed that out of a necessity to clean the filthy kitchen. At some point I managed to eat breakfast while Bean lay frustrated at her inability to roll back the other way. Today I was too tired to play but not too tired to feel bad about it.

I knew that I should leave the house. I knew that a walk would do us both good. But the mere thought of getting everything required to leave for said walk was simply an insurmountable task.

Today there were tears, and 'please don't take too long to get home' phone calls. There was the 'I don't understand why' and 'you don't understand what' conversation and at some point, a block of chocolate vanished and a bottle of cider was emptied in record time.

Today was a Keep-It-Together day. And somehow I made it through - just.

Now I am locked in my room. With a guarantee of not being interrupted for anything baby related until this time tomorrow morning. Bliss. This is the upside of bottle feeding.

But today, I still want my old life back.

http://dubaiunveiled.files.wordpress.com

Thank God for the Government

I just want to take a moment to thank the government for all they are doing for our kids.
If it weren't for them and their rules and regulations and guidelines, my daughter will probably not make it to her fifth birthday, let alone become an adult. I no doubt would have naively sent her to a kindergarten with a playground made of wood, the splinters and tears that would have abounded don't bear thinking about. Perhaps it would even have had a giant slide which she might slip on or fall off and possibly, god forbid, a rope swing on which she probably would fall off and break an arm, or even worse, get rope burn.

If it weren't for their wisdom, I might actually believe my daughter at just six or seven years old, would be smart enough to go and play by herself for the afternoon and not get lost or fall into a river, or jump off a hay bale and land on her tummy, winding herself or discovering rotten eggs smell awful when she threw them at the wall. In fact, thinking back, I'm not sure how I survived any of those things at all!

If it weren't for them I would most likely have thought it was ok to go bike riding without a helmet now and then, and play bullrush and get dirty. If she decides she wants to skateboard, I wouldn't have thought to give her a helmet and knee pads! I might have let her build a raft out of drift wood and see if it floated in the estuary with her on it, or drive in a car across a farm without a seatbelt, or even worse, let her change the gears or even steer the steering wheel while sitting on my lap! If only these guidelines had been around to inform my own parents when I was small. I still have nightmares now because of the trauma I went through.

When we go camping in the future, I might have let her sleep on the top bunk before she was nine. Maybe I would let her try to light the camp fire or worse, let her hold a marshmallow over the flames on a tinder try stick. I myself, have never recovered from that time my marshmallow fell off into the fire and my stick caught fire, and the time I tested the fire door to see if it was hot with my toe, well lets just say, forever scarred!

So, lets take a moment, to acknowledge the incredible gift of safety the government has given us by alerting us to all these things.

I shudder to think what a traumatic childhood my daughter would be heading for if it weren't for them. Clearly, most of us aren't actually capable of looking after our kids at all, and I am mistaken in thinking my daughter will going to be able to think for herself or learn from bad experiences before she is at least 18. Until then, I will make sure everything that could possibly harm her remains locked away, in fact, lets go further, I won't let her leave the house. Possibly, ever.

And before you tell me that most accidents occur in the home, let me tell you something. We're going to be fine, because the government has given us endless hours of educational fun, in the form of this invaluable online game.

Thank you NZ Government. Thank you.

http://www.acc.co.nz/PRD_EXT_CSMP/fragments/dangerrangers/home/index.html

Equality In Parenting

This is a True Story.

Activity	Response to Mum	Response to Dad
Working Parent	“How can you bare to leave your baby?”	“Aww, such a good Dad.”
Full Time Stay At Home Parent	“What do you do with all your time?”	“Aww, such a good Dad.”
Feeding Baby in Public	Breastfeeding: “That’s disgusting!” “Put it away!” “Where do I look?” Bottle Feeding: “Why aren’t you Breastfeeding?”	“Aww, such a good Dad.”
Dealing with a screaming child	“Have you tried…” “Can you leave…” “Seriously, make it stop.”	“Where’s the Mum? Can I buy you a beer?”
Going out for a night on the town	Hahahahahahahahahahahaha! This, does not, happen.	“Mate! It’s been ages! Let me buy you a beer!”
Leaving Baby at home with dad for a few hours	“Are you sure they’re ok?” “Don’t you feel bad?” “Have you got your phone just in case?” “Where’s the baby?”	“You poor man. We’ll bring you beer!”