When I was 21, I could stay out pretty much all night, get up and go to work (providing abysmal customer service, of course!!) and be ready for another night out after a short kip on the couch. I distinctly remember discovering the restorative effects of Vegemite on toast after only two hours' sleep, and mustering up the courage to venture forth into the land of clubbing for several nights in a row. Back then, my biggest concern was having enough energy to dance, and my most pressing responsibility was looking vaguely interested when speaking to customers at work. And then, of course, when it was all too much I could simply go to bed early and catch up on as much sleep as I liked. Those were the days.
Since Team O'Toole arrived to brighten our lives, sleep deprivation has become pretty standard in our house. Now, I know I'm stating the obvious for any family with young children, especially three babies within four years. I also realise that I have been blessed with relatively good sleepers, as all of my kids have "slept through" from quite young ages. However, most nights we get up a few times to retrieve dummies, give drinks of water, change wet beds, distribute cuddles after bad dreams, or just plain old breastfeed (usually this is my job, not Christian's!!) I think most mummies and daddies operate with a thin veneer of sleep deprivation 99% of the time, and we just get on with it because it's normal. But every now and then, a particularly bad night can throw a spanner in the works in a big way. Last night was one of the those nights.
Poor old Jack has had a cough for quite a few weeks now, a niggling dry cough that bothers him predominantly in the evening and early morning. Last night he coughed non-stop from the time he went to bed, and no cough medicine in the world could help him. His coughing woke Maisie, who started to cry. Her crying woke everyone else, leading to more coughing, crying from Phoebe, and desperate attempts to end the chaos from Mummy and Daddy. After almost two hours of trying to settle Maisie (every time she stopped crying, Jack coughed again. You could practically hear it coming...), I gave up and took Jack and Maisie out to the loungeroom, propped him up on a arm chair, popped Mais onto the boob, and tried not to acknowledge the fact it was 3.30am. Meanwhile, Christian tried to convince Phoebe that the world was not ending if Jack was out of his bed, and spent the rest of the night putting her back into bed. All up, I calculate the family got about 45 minutes sleep in total, which made me a very attractive specimen this morning.
Christian left for work at 6.30, as normal, and the day began as well as it could. I think I coped pretty well, all things considered. I only put the car keys in the freezer once. I remembered that the kids had appointments for haircuts, and actually drove to the right place (although I think I might have driven a fair bit under the speed limit...) I'm pretty sure I fed the kids, although I couldn't tell you what I put on the plates! Maisie spent a great deal of time yawning theatrically in her car seat, like a little diva we had rudely kept awake! I made it to Jack's appointment with the doctor on time, and stayed awake on the ultra-comfy waiting room chairs. I think my red-rimmed eyes and down-trodden expression even helped keep the bank open for five minutes when I arrived at closing time. I went to put Maisie to bed, and walked into the toilet instead (and then had no idea what I was doing in there!?!) I do feel a bit sorry for my lovely friends who will have to consume the cake I have just made, as I have no idea what ingredients went into it. (If I just slather it with pink icing, it should be ok, right??) It is now just after 9pm, and it would appear that Maisie is too tired for her last feed. If I get ready for bed now, it should guarantee that she'll wake up in ten minutes, shouldn't it? If I prop her up with me in an armchair, I might even be able to doze.........zzzzzzzzzzz.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Struggletown
I have spent all day today craving naughty things. It's been a long time since I've been even remotely swayed, but today I struggled badly. You know what I'm talking about. Chocolate. Sourdough bread. Peanut butter. Chocolate. Lasagne. Cheese. Chocolate. Considering the fact that Mais and I hunkered down inside today and cleaned like fiends (well, I cleaned madly in an attempt to escape my food demons, and she watched from her activity centre and laughed her little cotton socks off at my antics), I think my efforts at resisting the forbidden foods were admirable.
Did I mention the elimination diet??
Before you misunderstand me, I am not on a crazy post-baby weight-loss diet. I fall very definitely into the camp of women-who-cannot-lose-weight-while-breastfeeding-even-if-their-lives-depend-on-it. I know this because I could not lose an ounce before Jack was 10 months old and he weaned himself, and then it all seemed to sort itself out (as long as I steered clear of the obvious speed humps!!) I know that I ate my way through PND after Phoebe couldn't breastfeed, which would explain why the weight didn't drop until I dropped the plate. Maisie is currently approaching the 8 month mark with gusto, and although I have no intentions of weaning her, I am crossing my fingers that the body will start resuming something close to a normal shape in the near future. But I digress.
When Jack was very, very tiny, I visited a naturopath about his colic and eczema, and tried an elimination diet to see if any of the foods I was eating were affecting him. I think a few people thought I was crackers, but I was willing to try anything if it stopped his red raw, bleeding skin and screaming. It turned out that he was extremely allergic to eggs and dairy food, and to this day is under the care of a specialist paediatrician. When Maisie started presenting the same symptoms a few months ago, I thought the logical thing to do would be to try eliminating foods again. This time I had the help of my beautiful friend Holly, who is now my naturopath (and one of Phoebe's favourite people!). We decided to eliminate not only eggs, dairy and wheat, but also a group called salicylates. In a healthy nutshell, basically I removed all foods except rice, leeks, celery, carrots, meat, fish, soy products and golden syrup from my diet. Although it sounds dreadful, the results were evident in Maisie's skin almost immediately which made it completely worth the effort. It has also forced me to become inventive in my cooking (although the humble roast has featured rather heavily on our dinner table of late!!) and buy lots of fresh food. Whenever I crave something sweet, I have golden syrup on toast (oat bread, of course!!) or this gorgeous apple butter I found in the health food shop for hippies. It hasn't been that difficult, and when I go out for coffee I just order a decaf soy latte and endure the raised eyebrows.
But today, oh today I struggled. I was the number one citizen in Struggletown. All I could think of was eating all the things that would make my baby sick, and what sort of mother would I be if I sacrificed that creamy eczema-free skin for a slice of pizza?? So I did what all mothers are exceptionally good at doing: I played pretend. Craving raisin toast? Have some puffed rice instead. Desperate for thick crusty bread with peanut butter? Have some wheat-free bread with salmon and soy cream cheese. Is it chocolate you're after? Look out the window and dream!!!!!! My darling husband is currently cranking up the coffee machine to make me my nighttime decaf soy latte (the bonuses of no caffeine!!) which will stem the hunger pangs and hopefully keep my sweet tooth happy for another day. And my sweet little bubba is fast asleep, without scratching, or puking, or screaming....and that in itself is enough for me to know that although I may have been in Struggletown today, it would seem that we have left the city limits. And tomorrow? What am I going to do tomorrow? Tomorrow, I am going to face my demons head on, stare them down, and then bake the wickedest egg/dairy/wheat-free cake that I can possibly dream up, and devour the lot!!!!
Did I mention the elimination diet??
Before you misunderstand me, I am not on a crazy post-baby weight-loss diet. I fall very definitely into the camp of women-who-cannot-lose-weight-while-breastfeeding-even-if-their-lives-depend-on-it. I know this because I could not lose an ounce before Jack was 10 months old and he weaned himself, and then it all seemed to sort itself out (as long as I steered clear of the obvious speed humps!!) I know that I ate my way through PND after Phoebe couldn't breastfeed, which would explain why the weight didn't drop until I dropped the plate. Maisie is currently approaching the 8 month mark with gusto, and although I have no intentions of weaning her, I am crossing my fingers that the body will start resuming something close to a normal shape in the near future. But I digress.
When Jack was very, very tiny, I visited a naturopath about his colic and eczema, and tried an elimination diet to see if any of the foods I was eating were affecting him. I think a few people thought I was crackers, but I was willing to try anything if it stopped his red raw, bleeding skin and screaming. It turned out that he was extremely allergic to eggs and dairy food, and to this day is under the care of a specialist paediatrician. When Maisie started presenting the same symptoms a few months ago, I thought the logical thing to do would be to try eliminating foods again. This time I had the help of my beautiful friend Holly, who is now my naturopath (and one of Phoebe's favourite people!). We decided to eliminate not only eggs, dairy and wheat, but also a group called salicylates. In a healthy nutshell, basically I removed all foods except rice, leeks, celery, carrots, meat, fish, soy products and golden syrup from my diet. Although it sounds dreadful, the results were evident in Maisie's skin almost immediately which made it completely worth the effort. It has also forced me to become inventive in my cooking (although the humble roast has featured rather heavily on our dinner table of late!!) and buy lots of fresh food. Whenever I crave something sweet, I have golden syrup on toast (oat bread, of course!!) or this gorgeous apple butter I found in the health food shop for hippies. It hasn't been that difficult, and when I go out for coffee I just order a decaf soy latte and endure the raised eyebrows.
But today, oh today I struggled. I was the number one citizen in Struggletown. All I could think of was eating all the things that would make my baby sick, and what sort of mother would I be if I sacrificed that creamy eczema-free skin for a slice of pizza?? So I did what all mothers are exceptionally good at doing: I played pretend. Craving raisin toast? Have some puffed rice instead. Desperate for thick crusty bread with peanut butter? Have some wheat-free bread with salmon and soy cream cheese. Is it chocolate you're after? Look out the window and dream!!!!!! My darling husband is currently cranking up the coffee machine to make me my nighttime decaf soy latte (the bonuses of no caffeine!!) which will stem the hunger pangs and hopefully keep my sweet tooth happy for another day. And my sweet little bubba is fast asleep, without scratching, or puking, or screaming....and that in itself is enough for me to know that although I may have been in Struggletown today, it would seem that we have left the city limits. And tomorrow? What am I going to do tomorrow? Tomorrow, I am going to face my demons head on, stare them down, and then bake the wickedest egg/dairy/wheat-free cake that I can possibly dream up, and devour the lot!!!!
Monday, August 23, 2010
The Sentimental Mummy
Today was one of those idyllic days of childhood (or motherhood, if I'm to be totally precise!!). There was nothing remarkable about it, nothing that would create a significant memory or milestone, but I hope that when my children are great big galloping teenagers, I remember vestiges of today. As you can probably already guess, rather than simply enjoying the moment I became so sentimental at the thought of fleeting childhood that I got teary! But we'll get to that later.
It was so gorgeous and breezy outside this morning, and the kids just pottered around the front garden while I hung clothes out to dry. Maisie was having a really long morning nap (she has settled herself into a fantastic routine all by herself, so who am I to argue?) so the three of us played with cars, rolled balls and just hung out in the sunshine. Phoebe made up a little song to go with her ramblings around the garden, and Jack competed with himself to see how many times he could crash his remote control car. We went inside for lunch when Mais woke up, and then it was Phoebalina's turn for a nap. Jack settled down with some books while Maisie and I had a feed (another excuse for a cuddle!!), and when Phoebe woke up we went on an excursion to the supermarket. Not a particularly special day, right? We still had squabbles, flung food on the walls, had exploding nappies and refused to eat our peas. But today something made me look at my kids and see how quickly this phase of my life is going.
In a few short months, Jack will be preparing to start primary school. My sweet, funny, grown-up little man, who still at times displays the characteristics he had as a baby, will soon be going off to be a Preppy. He is so very excited about going to "big school". I, on the other hand, am going to save how I feel for a day when I can explain without blubbing! Today I watched Jack play with his sisters, concentrate on his cars, whoop with joy while riding a shopping trolley, and I realised that the carefree days of doing nothing special with Jack are numbered. In a very short period of time, he will be gone from us for most of the day, doing all sorts of wonderful thing with new teachers and new friends. The days of dagging around the house will be limited to the weekends, and a tiny part of my boy will be lost to growing up.
Phoebe will be a big three-year-old birthday girl in a few weeks. She is so very excited about being a "big girl". I, on the other hand, am going to save how I feel for a day when I can explain without blubbing! She seems to have matured very rapidly in the last month - she speaks much more clearly, she has grown noticeably taller, she is much more confident (and just between you and me, somewhere along the line she has learned how to dance like a teenager...and not from me!!) Phoebe has a very dry sense of humour which I am sure is going to get her in trouble when she is older - she even knows how to raise one eyebrow! And just when I look at her and wonder where my tiny little baby has gone, she will come over and bury her face into my leg. Those small hands that are losing their baby chubbiness will wrap around me, and she will look up with enormous blue eyes and say, "Mummy, I need a cuddle", or "Mummy, I want you". How long will she be so without guile? How long will a cuddle from me be enough to make her day happy? All I can do is treasure these moments in the hope that my baby girl will never grow out of needing cuddles from Mumma.
And what of my littlest one? Maisie, who feels so big in my arms now, who tries to keep up with the older kids? Like her sister, she seems so very excited about becoming a "big girl". I, on the other hand, am going to save how I feel for a day when I can explain without blubbing! She is already trying to move, something which her brother and sister didn't bother with for a very long time. At every opportunity, Maisie tries to talk, and grab things, and interact with her family. She mastered blowing raspberries today, an accomplishment which she was so patently proud of that she did it all day! I celebrate every new thing she learns to do, while desperately wishing I could hold onto her babyhood.
I know it's impossible to be sad when you have children who are happy, healthy, and are striding along their own merry pathway through life. I suppose I should be leaping with joy at the thought that they are confident and secure enough to try and make their own way, while knowing that Mumma and Daddy are right behind them whenever they need us. And for that reason, I am going to make a conscious effort to remember today as an example of all that is good about staying at home with my babies. What a lucky woman I am to have experienced a sunny, calm day with my kids, where all I had to worry about was getting a double-toddler trolley at Coles. And I suppose if I'm really honest, they're still a fair way off being completely grown-up...after all, this morning I watched Phoebe dress up in a fairy costume, plonk herself down on the potty (fully clothed!) and watch Pingu with her baby doll...I watched Jack make a train track, completely absorbed in his trains and making little stories up with his face level with the floor...and yesterday I watched Maisie in Daddy's arms in the swimming pool, delightedly splashing her chubby little legs, and looking so tiny and new. There is so much that is wonderful about these ages and stages, and it is this thought I must hold on to during the next rainy day when the balance of adorable toddlerhood and feral childhood goes awry!
It was so gorgeous and breezy outside this morning, and the kids just pottered around the front garden while I hung clothes out to dry. Maisie was having a really long morning nap (she has settled herself into a fantastic routine all by herself, so who am I to argue?) so the three of us played with cars, rolled balls and just hung out in the sunshine. Phoebe made up a little song to go with her ramblings around the garden, and Jack competed with himself to see how many times he could crash his remote control car. We went inside for lunch when Mais woke up, and then it was Phoebalina's turn for a nap. Jack settled down with some books while Maisie and I had a feed (another excuse for a cuddle!!), and when Phoebe woke up we went on an excursion to the supermarket. Not a particularly special day, right? We still had squabbles, flung food on the walls, had exploding nappies and refused to eat our peas. But today something made me look at my kids and see how quickly this phase of my life is going.
In a few short months, Jack will be preparing to start primary school. My sweet, funny, grown-up little man, who still at times displays the characteristics he had as a baby, will soon be going off to be a Preppy. He is so very excited about going to "big school". I, on the other hand, am going to save how I feel for a day when I can explain without blubbing! Today I watched Jack play with his sisters, concentrate on his cars, whoop with joy while riding a shopping trolley, and I realised that the carefree days of doing nothing special with Jack are numbered. In a very short period of time, he will be gone from us for most of the day, doing all sorts of wonderful thing with new teachers and new friends. The days of dagging around the house will be limited to the weekends, and a tiny part of my boy will be lost to growing up.
Phoebe will be a big three-year-old birthday girl in a few weeks. She is so very excited about being a "big girl". I, on the other hand, am going to save how I feel for a day when I can explain without blubbing! She seems to have matured very rapidly in the last month - she speaks much more clearly, she has grown noticeably taller, she is much more confident (and just between you and me, somewhere along the line she has learned how to dance like a teenager...and not from me!!) Phoebe has a very dry sense of humour which I am sure is going to get her in trouble when she is older - she even knows how to raise one eyebrow! And just when I look at her and wonder where my tiny little baby has gone, she will come over and bury her face into my leg. Those small hands that are losing their baby chubbiness will wrap around me, and she will look up with enormous blue eyes and say, "Mummy, I need a cuddle", or "Mummy, I want you". How long will she be so without guile? How long will a cuddle from me be enough to make her day happy? All I can do is treasure these moments in the hope that my baby girl will never grow out of needing cuddles from Mumma.
And what of my littlest one? Maisie, who feels so big in my arms now, who tries to keep up with the older kids? Like her sister, she seems so very excited about becoming a "big girl". I, on the other hand, am going to save how I feel for a day when I can explain without blubbing! She is already trying to move, something which her brother and sister didn't bother with for a very long time. At every opportunity, Maisie tries to talk, and grab things, and interact with her family. She mastered blowing raspberries today, an accomplishment which she was so patently proud of that she did it all day! I celebrate every new thing she learns to do, while desperately wishing I could hold onto her babyhood.
I know it's impossible to be sad when you have children who are happy, healthy, and are striding along their own merry pathway through life. I suppose I should be leaping with joy at the thought that they are confident and secure enough to try and make their own way, while knowing that Mumma and Daddy are right behind them whenever they need us. And for that reason, I am going to make a conscious effort to remember today as an example of all that is good about staying at home with my babies. What a lucky woman I am to have experienced a sunny, calm day with my kids, where all I had to worry about was getting a double-toddler trolley at Coles. And I suppose if I'm really honest, they're still a fair way off being completely grown-up...after all, this morning I watched Phoebe dress up in a fairy costume, plonk herself down on the potty (fully clothed!) and watch Pingu with her baby doll...I watched Jack make a train track, completely absorbed in his trains and making little stories up with his face level with the floor...and yesterday I watched Maisie in Daddy's arms in the swimming pool, delightedly splashing her chubby little legs, and looking so tiny and new. There is so much that is wonderful about these ages and stages, and it is this thought I must hold on to during the next rainy day when the balance of adorable toddlerhood and feral childhood goes awry!
Friday, August 20, 2010
Mums and Brudders
I love watching Jack and Phoebe play, especially when they're not trying to dismember each other. Like most siblings, they simultaneously adore each other and fight at the drop of a hat. They always want exactly the same toy, even if we own two identical items, and I have often joked to Christian that we should have had twins so they didn't need to share worshipping time at the altar of Maisie (although I must admit, when it comes to Maisie they are both exceptional.) Lately, they have been playing a game of their own invention called "Mums and Brudders" quite a lot. The dynamics of the game change constantly; one minute, Jack will be the 'brudder', and Phoebe will be the mum, next minute, Phoebe is the brudder and Jack is the dog. I was curious about the actual relationships involved, and asked them this morning if Jack was Phoebe's little boy? "No, Mummy", she said very seriously. "I'm the mumma, and Jack is my brudder". Right then. So you're a grown-up lady and he's your baby brother? "No, I'm the mum!!" she huffed, and ran back to her brudder who began barking madly (clearly the canine phase had begun).
Normally, the mums and brudders just herb madly around the house alternately chasing, crying, admonishing and cuddling each other. This morning however, a very interesting exchange occurred. The mum (Phoebe) put the baby doll to bed on the couch and said, "Brudder, the baby is crying" (It is beyond me why she was telling one baby about another baby crying, but there you go). Without missing a beat, Jack replies, "Well, get her then! I'm the dad now, anyway." Phoebe looked completely baffled, so Jack continued with a sigh, "That means I'm at work, and you have to be the mum and stay home and iron." When Phoebe then expressed a desire to be the dog instead, Jack said, "No! There has to be a Mum. That's how the game works, ok?"
Now, on the one hand I'm delighted that a mum is essential to the game - it's good for my ego and makes me believe that I must be doing something right! However, I have a couple of other issues that have arisen from this playful little conversation this morning:
1. Where on earth has Jack got the impression that the dad is an aloof, uncaring-type person who lets babies cry?? Certainly not from his Daddy!!
2. While I understand that my kids perceive my 'job' as staying at home with them, seriously, ironing???? I do a huge range of housework-related tasks in any one day, but ironing is not one of them!! (purely from a safety point of view, of course. Not because I am a lazy git who doesn't care about wrinkles)
I will have to pay very close attention next time they play Mums and Brudders to see if I can glean any further information about our family dynamic. (I am particularly interested in how the mum and the brother are related, but I can't see a logical answer being available in the near future) Let's just say that I am learning something new from our children every day! I wonder what character Maisie will take on when she starts joining in? Stay tuned!
Normally, the mums and brudders just herb madly around the house alternately chasing, crying, admonishing and cuddling each other. This morning however, a very interesting exchange occurred. The mum (Phoebe) put the baby doll to bed on the couch and said, "Brudder, the baby is crying" (It is beyond me why she was telling one baby about another baby crying, but there you go). Without missing a beat, Jack replies, "Well, get her then! I'm the dad now, anyway." Phoebe looked completely baffled, so Jack continued with a sigh, "That means I'm at work, and you have to be the mum and stay home and iron." When Phoebe then expressed a desire to be the dog instead, Jack said, "No! There has to be a Mum. That's how the game works, ok?"
Now, on the one hand I'm delighted that a mum is essential to the game - it's good for my ego and makes me believe that I must be doing something right! However, I have a couple of other issues that have arisen from this playful little conversation this morning:
1. Where on earth has Jack got the impression that the dad is an aloof, uncaring-type person who lets babies cry?? Certainly not from his Daddy!!
2. While I understand that my kids perceive my 'job' as staying at home with them, seriously, ironing???? I do a huge range of housework-related tasks in any one day, but ironing is not one of them!! (purely from a safety point of view, of course. Not because I am a lazy git who doesn't care about wrinkles)
I will have to pay very close attention next time they play Mums and Brudders to see if I can glean any further information about our family dynamic. (I am particularly interested in how the mum and the brother are related, but I can't see a logical answer being available in the near future) Let's just say that I am learning something new from our children every day! I wonder what character Maisie will take on when she starts joining in? Stay tuned!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Wednesdays with Maisie
I had another gorgeous day with Maisie Mouse today. I must admit, I am totally loving being on maternity leave, and it already saddens me to think I'll have to sacrifice two days per week with my girls next year!! I understand how spoiled I am, being home for a year, and so I relish the quiet days when the clock does not matter. We didn't do anything remarkable today (surprise, surprise, I hear you think!). After the whirlwind departure of Jack and Phoebe at 6.30am (Phoebs does one day a week at childcare just to socialise with her peeps and get completely indulged by her teachers!), Mais and I cuddled in bed for a while which is a complete luxury. You don't realise until your first baby starts to crawl, how lovely it is to have a bub who can't get away, and who's happy to lie in your arms as long as you them try and remove your nose. Once they can move, say bye-bye to lengthy cuddles and hello to falling off the bed!!
The majority of today was spent finding washing, sorting washing, washing washing, drying washing, folding washing, and ironing the things that would make my children look homeless if I left them wrinkly. (There are still little piles of clothes everywhere, waiting to be put away. Let's be honest, who's perfect??) To sweeten the deal, I put Maisie on the floor with a menagerie of toys, and I put 'Sixteen Candles' on the telly for me. One of the bonuses of Wednesdays, is that I can watch movies with swearing in them without fear of a little person repeating it back to me!! I'm safe for a while yet with Mais, but the other two little parrots are deadly at remembering inappropriate phrases! Maisie particularly enjoyed the Asian exchange student's character that stays with Molly Ringwald's grandparents - she shrieked with laughter every time he laughed. We had a great time, dancing along to the soundtrack (as long as I didn't sing, remember.) I wonder how long it will be before watching movies with Mum is just too daggy for words?
The only time we had to leave the house was to visit the doctor for my manky eye again, which served as a nice little break from playing laundry-maids. We didn't make our swimming lesson today, simply because both Maisie and I are still both sounding like pack-a-day emphysemics. It didn't matter, in fact, it only served to make the day even more cruisey. By the time Daddy and the big kids returned home, we all had clean sheets, clean clothes, a full fridge, dinner cooked before 9pm, and a happy baby. Mundane or otherwise, that's what I call a good day!!
The majority of today was spent finding washing, sorting washing, washing washing, drying washing, folding washing, and ironing the things that would make my children look homeless if I left them wrinkly. (There are still little piles of clothes everywhere, waiting to be put away. Let's be honest, who's perfect??) To sweeten the deal, I put Maisie on the floor with a menagerie of toys, and I put 'Sixteen Candles' on the telly for me. One of the bonuses of Wednesdays, is that I can watch movies with swearing in them without fear of a little person repeating it back to me!! I'm safe for a while yet with Mais, but the other two little parrots are deadly at remembering inappropriate phrases! Maisie particularly enjoyed the Asian exchange student's character that stays with Molly Ringwald's grandparents - she shrieked with laughter every time he laughed. We had a great time, dancing along to the soundtrack (as long as I didn't sing, remember.) I wonder how long it will be before watching movies with Mum is just too daggy for words?
The only time we had to leave the house was to visit the doctor for my manky eye again, which served as a nice little break from playing laundry-maids. We didn't make our swimming lesson today, simply because both Maisie and I are still both sounding like pack-a-day emphysemics. It didn't matter, in fact, it only served to make the day even more cruisey. By the time Daddy and the big kids returned home, we all had clean sheets, clean clothes, a full fridge, dinner cooked before 9pm, and a happy baby. Mundane or otherwise, that's what I call a good day!!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Quirky habits
When you spend the majority of your time with your kids, you become pretty familiar with their little quirks. You know, the funny little words they use...the foods they would eat until the cows came home and the foods that make them gag every time...their favourite games...how to push their buttons...
I had a fairly ho-hum day today, simply because I had several rather important errands to run which required a lot of driving. Jack was at pre-school and Phoebe went to Melbourne with Grandma, so I only had Maisie Mouse for company. And as it happened, today was a day that I learned quite a few things about the littlest person on our team. I had only managed about two hours of sleep last night (Maisie woke for a feed at 1am, puked the entire feed up at 2am, and spent the next two hours wriggling, laughing, playing and then screaming until I took her into our bed. Yes, I know she won) so I was a bit ragged this morning. Today we needed to visit (in order):
1. The bank in Somerville, to collect important documents with regards to our home loan
2. The allergy paediatrician in Frankston, to collect Jack's new allergy management programme for his new pre-school
3. The cattery in Mt.Eliza, to pay them for looking after my beloved cats while we are building
4. Our new pre-school in Mt. Martha, to deliver the allergy management document
5. The supermarket, so that we might have a meal this evening other than baked beans.
As you can see, a relatively busy day with several short, sharp stops. So in our travels today, what did I learn about Miss Maisie Elizabeth Rose?
1. She is not a fan of the car (this much I knew already, since the very first trip home from the hospital), but is quite happy if you are driving under trees
2. She is not a fan of my singing, unlike her poor beleaguered siblings. I belted out the Choirboys "Run To Paradise" to try and cheer her up, but in the end I think she won the screaming competition. At any rate, she stopped crying when I stopped yowling.
3. No matter how unhappy she is in the car, Maisie can charm the pants off complete strangers when removed from the vehicle. She smiled at the bank manager, the paediatrician's receptionist, the lady in the cattery, the director of the pre-school, and random strangers in Ritchies, but not when Mummy was singing. Ouch.
4. She can empty a bath simply by thrashing her stumpy little legs in joy again, and again, and again. I'm not kidding. Phoebe and Maisie started out with quite a full bath, and ended up in a puddle. With a soaked Mummy sitting on the floor. I think she was delighted that I'd stopped singing.
5. Her favourite food at the moment is grey mush otherwise known as pear and banana Farex. It looks foul, but this week it's the only food she hasn't gagged on. God bless gluggy cereal.
Now, I know as well as the next mother that in all likelihood, by next week Maisie will have a new repertoire of quirky habits. What I love is how fun it is trying to keep up!! I just hope she keeps some of the adorable characteristics that are already unique to her, like reaching out a little hand to touch our faces and pull us down for a kiss...the way she sticks her tongue out of the side of her mouth when she says "Dad dad dad"...how her little eyes light up when you hand her a piece of train track...how she stares up at tree branches when the wind moves them about...these are the things that I don't want to forget. I wonder what we'll learn about Maisie Mouse next :)
I had a fairly ho-hum day today, simply because I had several rather important errands to run which required a lot of driving. Jack was at pre-school and Phoebe went to Melbourne with Grandma, so I only had Maisie Mouse for company. And as it happened, today was a day that I learned quite a few things about the littlest person on our team. I had only managed about two hours of sleep last night (Maisie woke for a feed at 1am, puked the entire feed up at 2am, and spent the next two hours wriggling, laughing, playing and then screaming until I took her into our bed. Yes, I know she won) so I was a bit ragged this morning. Today we needed to visit (in order):
1. The bank in Somerville, to collect important documents with regards to our home loan
2. The allergy paediatrician in Frankston, to collect Jack's new allergy management programme for his new pre-school
3. The cattery in Mt.Eliza, to pay them for looking after my beloved cats while we are building
4. Our new pre-school in Mt. Martha, to deliver the allergy management document
5. The supermarket, so that we might have a meal this evening other than baked beans.
As you can see, a relatively busy day with several short, sharp stops. So in our travels today, what did I learn about Miss Maisie Elizabeth Rose?
1. She is not a fan of the car (this much I knew already, since the very first trip home from the hospital), but is quite happy if you are driving under trees
2. She is not a fan of my singing, unlike her poor beleaguered siblings. I belted out the Choirboys "Run To Paradise" to try and cheer her up, but in the end I think she won the screaming competition. At any rate, she stopped crying when I stopped yowling.
3. No matter how unhappy she is in the car, Maisie can charm the pants off complete strangers when removed from the vehicle. She smiled at the bank manager, the paediatrician's receptionist, the lady in the cattery, the director of the pre-school, and random strangers in Ritchies, but not when Mummy was singing. Ouch.
4. She can empty a bath simply by thrashing her stumpy little legs in joy again, and again, and again. I'm not kidding. Phoebe and Maisie started out with quite a full bath, and ended up in a puddle. With a soaked Mummy sitting on the floor. I think she was delighted that I'd stopped singing.
5. Her favourite food at the moment is grey mush otherwise known as pear and banana Farex. It looks foul, but this week it's the only food she hasn't gagged on. God bless gluggy cereal.
Now, I know as well as the next mother that in all likelihood, by next week Maisie will have a new repertoire of quirky habits. What I love is how fun it is trying to keep up!! I just hope she keeps some of the adorable characteristics that are already unique to her, like reaching out a little hand to touch our faces and pull us down for a kiss...the way she sticks her tongue out of the side of her mouth when she says "Dad dad dad"...how her little eyes light up when you hand her a piece of train track...how she stares up at tree branches when the wind moves them about...these are the things that I don't want to forget. I wonder what we'll learn about Maisie Mouse next :)
Monday, August 16, 2010
Me-time
A lot of new mothers are encouraged to enjoy some time away from their babies on occasion, for example, going for a walk, getting a haircut, or going out with friends. It is very easy to become entrenched in the day-to-day care of a small child and lose track of who you were before children. It is because of this that many maternal health nurses suggest that for their own well-being, mothers should indulge in some "me-time" on a regular basis.
As I now have three little darlings to love, teach, encourage, protect, wash, cook for, and entertain, I find that having some "me-time" is essential for me to maintain my (admittedly tenuous) sanity. Busy though I may be, I try to ensure that I have a little time alone each day away from my kidlets. For example, I needed to go to the doctor this morning (it turned out to be not only viral conjuncitivitis, but also viral bronchitis to boot. Seems like I was a bit sicker than I thought. Whoops) and my lovely MIL (that's mother-in-law to the uninitiated) offered to watch all three kids as I was a bit nervous about driving with one eye open in today's terrible weather. (And it must have been obvious how excited I was at the prospect of having three wet kids in a crowded waiting room while feeling like death warmed up!!) Anyhow, I left the kids and went to Mt.Martha, and not only did I have an entire hour to myself, I scored three of my favourite 80's songs on the radio on the way home!!! Tallk about me-time extravaganza!!! Never mind I was as sick as a dog and spent most of the time in a waiting room, I got a kid-free hour and the chance to belt out some tunes in the car! What's not to like??
Another regular bit of me-time that I quite enjoy is the grocery shopping. Rather than dragging all of the cherubs with me on one of those baby/toddler/grumpy 4 year old trolleys, I go on a Sunday afternoon or late at night on my own. That's potentially an hour of me-time right there!! Make it a big shop and you could even drag it out to an hour and a half (although typically that would tempt the breastfeeding gods...) It doesn't always have to be an hour away. Even small breaks throughout the day can be enough to refresh you and revive your energy levels. Sometimes, just for a change, I like to have a shower all on my own. I know it sounds decadent, but there's something really peaceful about closing the bathroom door for three minutes. If I'm really lucky I occasionally get to go to the toilet on my own too. Now, this isn't a regular occurrence - quite understandably, with three under five I usually have someone come with me, or have some burning need to talk to me while I'm in there. Today, Phoebe followed me in and insisted that I was sick (she did have a point), and that she was the doctor who would make me feel better. I asked if the doctor could wait until I was back in the loungeroom, and she looked horrified. "No, Mummy!! This is the doctor's house". Excellent. But generally speaking, if you manage to go to the loo, on your own, AND get the door closed, you're on your way to a tiny slice of me-time. It's not hard to achieve, is it??
To be truthful, the half-hour I spend blogging each evening is great me-time, even if it is frequently interrupted. It's a great way to release the foofer-valve, especially when your chest infection is so bad the zumba instructor asks you not to return until you're better. And when I'm blogging, no one can see how mucky and red my diseased eye is, or hear the wheezing of my emphysemic chest. No one can see the piles of wrinkly un-ironed clothes, or the dishes calling my name. It's just you and me. Quality me-time!
As I now have three little darlings to love, teach, encourage, protect, wash, cook for, and entertain, I find that having some "me-time" is essential for me to maintain my (admittedly tenuous) sanity. Busy though I may be, I try to ensure that I have a little time alone each day away from my kidlets. For example, I needed to go to the doctor this morning (it turned out to be not only viral conjuncitivitis, but also viral bronchitis to boot. Seems like I was a bit sicker than I thought. Whoops) and my lovely MIL (that's mother-in-law to the uninitiated) offered to watch all three kids as I was a bit nervous about driving with one eye open in today's terrible weather. (And it must have been obvious how excited I was at the prospect of having three wet kids in a crowded waiting room while feeling like death warmed up!!) Anyhow, I left the kids and went to Mt.Martha, and not only did I have an entire hour to myself, I scored three of my favourite 80's songs on the radio on the way home!!! Tallk about me-time extravaganza!!! Never mind I was as sick as a dog and spent most of the time in a waiting room, I got a kid-free hour and the chance to belt out some tunes in the car! What's not to like??
Another regular bit of me-time that I quite enjoy is the grocery shopping. Rather than dragging all of the cherubs with me on one of those baby/toddler/grumpy 4 year old trolleys, I go on a Sunday afternoon or late at night on my own. That's potentially an hour of me-time right there!! Make it a big shop and you could even drag it out to an hour and a half (although typically that would tempt the breastfeeding gods...) It doesn't always have to be an hour away. Even small breaks throughout the day can be enough to refresh you and revive your energy levels. Sometimes, just for a change, I like to have a shower all on my own. I know it sounds decadent, but there's something really peaceful about closing the bathroom door for three minutes. If I'm really lucky I occasionally get to go to the toilet on my own too. Now, this isn't a regular occurrence - quite understandably, with three under five I usually have someone come with me, or have some burning need to talk to me while I'm in there. Today, Phoebe followed me in and insisted that I was sick (she did have a point), and that she was the doctor who would make me feel better. I asked if the doctor could wait until I was back in the loungeroom, and she looked horrified. "No, Mummy!! This is the doctor's house". Excellent. But generally speaking, if you manage to go to the loo, on your own, AND get the door closed, you're on your way to a tiny slice of me-time. It's not hard to achieve, is it??
To be truthful, the half-hour I spend blogging each evening is great me-time, even if it is frequently interrupted. It's a great way to release the foofer-valve, especially when your chest infection is so bad the zumba instructor asks you not to return until you're better. And when I'm blogging, no one can see how mucky and red my diseased eye is, or hear the wheezing of my emphysemic chest. No one can see the piles of wrinkly un-ironed clothes, or the dishes calling my name. It's just you and me. Quality me-time!
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