walking!!
Well, all I can say is that our little family has been flat-out!
So have had not a minute to write anything on the blog, take photos, do videos. Anything.
But. Last night’s video that your dad took of your and your Aunt R1 warrants a post.
Because he finally got you on camera – WALKING!
Hello!
Bad Parent of the Day Award today – very simple.
DAD. For biting your finger as he was attempting to eat some food that you were offering to share with him.
Your reaction: disbelief, then loud crying and screaming.
End result: 20 minutes later, red swollen finger….
ooow!! someone bit my finger
ooops.
love mum
P.S. Note, you were hungry. As per the photo, you continued to try to eat your spinach and cheese muffins with blended roasted vegetables through the tears.
It’s a question I ask myself quite a bit.
Who am I and where do I fit into this equation of our family and day-to-day life?
Being a mum for the past almost-year has been an all-subsuming, totally rewarding, utterly exhausting and overall transformative process. Positive. But inarguably challenging on many levels.
As an aside about being all-consuming and mind-bending: I’m re-reading the title of this post and thinking that I’ve subconsciously started to style my language along the lines of a children’s book – we read so many each day, and my waking minutes are so focussed on looking after you. (The book it’s based on has slipped out of my mind, but the language persists. It’ll come to me, just give it about 36 hours. Dead of the night. I’ll sit bolt upright in bed and remember.)
Some days I think I’m coping really well, and all is gleeful (Wednesday). (more…)
Ten years ago today I was young, carefree and needed to go dancing. Did you know I liked to dance?
Picture a dimly lit nightclub with lots of strobe lights, loud pumping house music and lots of people. A UK DJ playing a banging set. Me, in there somewhere with S, out for a dance. Dancing ensued. Lots of dancing, laughing, talking, dancing.
2am rolled around and (more…)
Hi Poogie,
You’ve taken the Laugh Your Ass Off Game to a whole new level. You are regaling us with fits of laughter daily. I managed to get this one on camera – it was just after you woke up from a nap.
This week it was laughing your ass off with dad…
Hi Poogie,
Well. I’m writing to you this morning to let you know that I’m sorry. I feel terrible. In fact, last night I felt plagued with unassuageable guilt. Wracked with it. I’ve decided I don’t know if I want to be a mum anymore. Its too scary for me too – too much responsibility (and to this your dad says, “Too late”). And all because of the sight of your tiny little scared face. Petrified in fact.
To balance these strong and undeniably primal feelings I’m having – I look at your face this morning – and you are most definitely your smiling, happy, joyous little self. So no lasting damage to see.
So. What did I (and your Dad) do? Well, we attempted to take you to the football (AFL for those who know the Australian codes and are interested). Mmm… And we thought you’d be ok – nicely rugged up in a big sling on my or your dad’s chest, a short 20 minute walk to the grounds from our house with another friend. I was a bit worried about the length of time we’d be out at night, but figured you liked to sleep in the sling.
WHAT WAS I THINKING????!!
Not some of the obvious things (well, very obvious in retrospect):
And that was what scared you. It wasn’t the noise itself (you adjusted to that each time the roar lasted for a long time). It was the abruptness of the noise. And your dad thinks the primal or base nature of the noise. Suddenly.
In my life so far – one of the worst things I’ve ever seen was your little face last night. Just the look of absolute terror in your eyes as you pushed your head sideways into your dad’s chest in the sling, and gripped him around his chest monkey-style like you weren’t going to let go if it was the last thing you did. And your eyes looked like you thought it might be the last thing you did. And I couldn’t do anything about it. You gave a few yelp-like cries on some of the big roars and let it out verbally. The rest of the time however, you just looked dazed and amazed. So much bright light, so many faces and noises around you.
So, the quarters are long in AFL. I needed to use the bathroom desperately about 15 minutes into the first quarter, so I managed to squeeze out of our seats (the other issue being that we were pinned right in the middle of a stand with no close stairs and had to squeeze along a narrow row of 15 people to get out) and get to the bathroom. I was shaking. I was so upset with myself and not sure what to do with you. You stayed with your dad. That was a good move, as I managed to then have the next 15 minutes to watch the game from the stairwell, and because I couldn’t see your face I wasn’t so upset and managed to think. And decided that the option was easy and not a big deal – I’d just walk home with you and leave your dad & P at the game, and that you’d be fine. You weren’t howling, you weren’t hurt, you weren’t damaged. You just got a big shock. And you enjoyed some of it.
Quarter over, you dad brought you out of the stands to me, I strapped you on, and we went home. You were wired. So alert and awake and watchful. And happy. You wanted to talk and laugh and look and participate in everything on the way home, and wanted my attention and face-time when we got home. We got home in time for me to put you on my lap and have some great play time and talking time as I watched the delayed football on TV. And it was an amazing game, where our team (the Lions) made a final quarter comeback from 5 goals down to win.
You had a huge feed, seemed very content, and went down to sleep for the night after almost falling asleep on the boob. And you woke this morning and are still fine.
The Lions win a final
I’m sorry poogie.
Love you
mum
P.S. I wasn’t the only mum at the football with a baby. As I was walking towards the stairs to leave, another woman with a sling on came out of the back of one of the stands. We locked eyes, and I had to go and see how she was going. So I walked over and she walked to me. We said hi, and asked how old and looked at each-other’s babes. Me: “How old is your baby” (before I can see the face). Her: “One week”. SOOO TINY I realised as I saw her little baby’s screwed up face – womb-fresh and puckered but totally fully asleep at her chest in the sling. Then she said, “I’m just looking for somewhere to feed her, I’m hoping the ushers will let me have a seat back here somewhere”… Mm.. Me: “Good luck”… For some strange reason it reassured me that I wasn’t the worst and dumbest mum on the planet – which was where my self-esteem was at the time. It wasn’t just us that decided that the football was ok for a relatively small babe. But rest assured Poogie, I think it will be some years before we try to take you again 
TV will do for now.
Hello Little Poogie,
YOU ARE SO CUTE.
Yes, I’m shouting. Cause you are the cutest baby on the planet. In my slightly, oh just slightly, biased opinion.
This is just a quick note to let you know that I haven’t been writing because I’ve been consumed by you. You take up all my day. It used to be just feeding and sleeping and washing and the like. But now that you are awake more and practising talking noises, its playing, reading books, talking practice, discussing politics etc. Well, I talk to you about politics. That conversation is a bit one-sided. Goo-goo ga-ga is more your style.
Anyway. I’m not sure what has happened, but in the last week or so something has definitely gone on with my hormones. They have kicked in with a big shebang once again and just made me fall totally head-over-heels in love with you. Crazily. Scarily. OMG if someone does anything to you I will tear them limb from limb with my bare hands – slightly psycho-ly.
Just so you know. This may well pass, but right now I’m all loved-up and you are the best. Even when you do large explosive foamy disgusting smelling poos that leak out all through your clothing, your wrap, into your carseat, and seep down through the holes into the car.
poo!
No, I don’t like cleaning it up, but I still love you!
smiling and talking
love mum
p.s. you are 8 weeks and four days old today. And two months exactly tomorrow!
smiling!
ok. baby brain is back in a big way Speck.
What are you sucking out of me?
I can’t get it together.
-mum
Hello Little Speck,
Its very comforting to feel you moving around down there happily this morning. I think your dad appreciated it too – he woke up and could feel you against his back. And your hiccups were so strong he got to feel those too. We were both happy to feel you being normal. And I’m glad to say that your awake hours are actually currently in-line with mine – you wake up at about 6:30am, then play around for an hour or more; then you sleep, though sometimes you have a little play until about 9am or so. You sometimes wake during the middle of the day, but definitely around 3pm is a big time for you to reawaken and do some fairly vigorous exercise. Then around 6pm you seem to go a bit crazy – I suspect its when I haven’t had dinner yet and you’re trying to tell me your blood sugar has dropped too low. Then its all downhill for me as I am generally exhausted and very ready for bed. You often are still awake and there is some movement but you chill out when I go to bed and seem to sleep through the night. You were waking me up before when this wasn’t happening. So thanks. My sleep has been better.
I think I overdid it on the weekend and yesterday – I had a bit of a meltdown last night and something like a panic attack after I went to bed. I just couldn’t seem to get enough breath and was sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn’t think straight and couldn’t work out what was wrong or why I was upset or what was going on or whether I could really breathe or not. It wasn’t very fun and I freaked both myself and your dad out. Eventually I got over it and managed to settle back down and go to sleep. I am putting it down to Week 32 pregnancy hormones. Our midwife in the antenatal classes was suggesting we all have a good cry in the shower. And there are a bunch of women on the baby forum this week who all seem to be crying a lot. So I’m guessing its a common thing and I’m just following the normal pregnant and crazy pattern.
Anyway, this is why we were both happy to feel you scrimmaging around like normal this morning.
Thinking of you.
love mum
Hi Speck,
Its Easter friday! Yay for holidays. I’m baking almond and chocolate friands to take to your Grandma K’s for an easter get together. Your dad is doing his usual interfering and telling me my oven is too hot (despite the fact I’ve never seen him cook any cake except cheesecake in his life). He’s just a know-all.
almond chocolate friands
So. Last night was antenatal classes Mark 2. This time with a midwife instead of with a physio. Actually learnt a lot. Which was good – the time went quickly rather than slowly. The class was about introducing us to the three stages of labour, and talking about when we should think about phoning the birthing ward to come to hospital. We had a tour of a birthing suite and watched a few videos of babies being born. Lots of things to think about. I cried watching the videos. I’m still really emotional and I got a bit scared and excited and happy all at the same time. Luckily I was at the back of the room so it was only your dad, the couple beside me and the midwife who noticed tears streaming down my cheeks. Its strange to not have any real idea what is going to happen to you and how you will cope, and not have much control over it all. It could all go smoothly and then we get to choose some things, or it could all go a bit not as expected in which case we relinquish control to a bunch of health-care professionals. I could just lose it and go crazy in the middle of it all. Who knows. Maybe I’ll get to transition stage and just be adamant that I’m going to pack up and go home and pretend there is no baby business happening at all.
Anyway, I’m glad I took a notebook, as everyone had lots of questions and the class was good in that it was relatively unstructured and the midwife was thorough in her answers. I wrote down a bunch of things I wanted to find out more about; things to ask and talk to our obstetrician about (gee, who knew that some of them still want you to get up onto the bed and be prone when you’re actually pushing the baby out in the second stage – I thought things had moved on – maybe not – gee I hope ours lets us do it however feels best for me); things for your dad and I to decide (do you need a vitamin K injection and Hep B as soon as you’re born?); and just general stuff that I thought I’d forget. We walked to the hospital again but it was raining on the way home so we taxied. May have to rethink the walking to the hospital idea just ’cause your dad will be in charge of bringing all the stuff along. But maybe we can still do it just with our birthing bag, and someone can bring the rest later? Mmm.. Anyway, I think the most important things to remember from the class was the phone number of the birth suite and basically if you get any body fluids happening then phone them. Got it. Phone them. Your dad put the number in his phone. Hopefully he can find his phone when the time comes. I might just write the number on the whiteboard too.
When we got home we had a chat about some of the things they talked about at the hospital. I think both of us think that since we’re so close (literally 10 minutes walk) that we don’t have to worry about traffic or anything, so we should be ok to stay at home if everything is going well for quite a while. Yes, the hospital is brand new and the rooms are big and spacious, and pretty nice, but its still a hospital with linoleum floors and unnatural lighting and lots of equipment and not much to look at. I think if we are in first stage of labour for a long time it would be much nicer to be at home if we’re comfortable with that. We can have whoever we like there, we have our own creature comforts, and there is more to do and look at. But, who knows. We may panic in the throws of pain and think its all happening much faster than it is, or be uncomfortable at home, and then just trip on in really early.
Yep, so of course I dreamed about you arriving again last night. This time it was more focussed on your birth. I was on all fours on the ground a lot, near a hand-wash basin for some reason, during a lot of the labour. It was kinda painful but rhythmic. I remember thinking oh, there it goes again and feeling it just going of its own accord. Then I was squatting on the side of a chair and you came out, all slimey and red and with a lot of white vernix all over you. You had blackish hair plastered to your head, but not too much, just some. Your head was squished and a bit oblong. And this time you were a boy and I definitely sighted your genitalia. For some reason when you were born I actually forgot to see if you were a boy or a girl and I remember asking people a few minutes later and they were all surprised I hadn’t worked out or checked that you were a boy already. I remember just being glad that you were out and you were healthy.
This dream went on and on and on. I woke up and one point and I’m pretty sure I told your dad about it then went back to sleep and continued on with the same dream. Until you woke me at 6:30 with some strong stomach pounding.
Going to get non-burnt friands from oven and go for morning tea.
Love you
mum
P.s. Oh yeah, side effect of these iron tablets seem to be even worse gas than I had previously. I read a bit on the web and there are a bunch of women on forums who say this has happened to them too. And some of them say the smell is really bad. I haven’t noticed that yet thankfully, but it means I have to be very careful. I was like a ticking time bomb during the antenatal classes. I didn’t make it out of the room a few times and let loose big loud ones. The tour of the hospital and where to park was a good diversion as we were outside and I could lag behind the group. But sitting still and watching videos as I felt like I might float out of my chair was trying. Your dad was peeing himself with laughter and kept telling me to go to the toilet (again, helpful if you know you need to fart but they come on very quickly and are very large and frequent. So I would be like a yo-you back and forth. My policy is hold them in and then do it all at once in the toilet).
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