Saturday, September 25, 2010

I am happy...

We have a full house!

A darling friend of mine, who lives far to far away, has come down for the week, to stay in the big smoke. So, we are full, full, full with 6 kids, 3 big people, and a whole lot of noise, mess, laughter and tears.

There are several ways that parenting 5 children differs from my valiant attempts to wrangle one child....

The difference in the ammount of food....my kitchen is overflowing with veggies, bread, fruit, tiny fridge packed full, tiny pantry bursting a the seams.



Ava is beside herself. Not only does she have playfellows, but a whole team of them, baby ones and big ones, all come to stay for the week.

She ran up to me after her nap today, and whispered to me, looking up at me with eyes shining bright.

"Mummy?"
"Yes, Baby-girl?"
"I'm happy"

I thought my heart would burst with love. I am happy too baby. Good friends make for beautiful moments.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Poo

Poo. Parents and non-parents divide over this seemingly simple by product of the digestive system, and the divide is large.
To non-parents: A topic that is not brought up in polite conversation, a minorly inconvenient but thoroughly neccessary and sometimes relieving, almost mildly enjoyable dayly event. (time can change. Depends how much fibre is in your diet.)

To parents: The yard stick for measurement of infant/toddler/child health and development. A safe topic of conversation with other parents. A way of determining allergies, intolerances, worms, viral infections, too much liquorice (black) too much corn (ahhhhh, lotsa corn basically) or whether you child has chewed their food adequately. Whole raisins that look like they could be rinsed off and used again is an indication that food chewing needs to be taught again. Best not to rinse them off and use the same raisins though.

People who don't have children cannot fully understand how much can be gleaned from a single poo. It's colour, it's form, the smell, the consistancy, the watery liquid that can accompany a really nasty one...

Anyone who has had to visit a pediatric immunologist the visit will go something like this:

Dr: 'So, her stools are not formed?'
Me: 'ahhhhhh, her....?'
Dr: 'Poo. Her poo. What does it look like?'
Me: 'Oh, ummm, runny, I guess. Like satay.'
Dr: 'So, chunky as well?'
Me: 'Oh, ah, I didn't really notice. I guess there were bits in it...'
And the conversation goes on and on until you are convinced you should have studied poo much harder and that the immmunologist is going to give you a 'D' in poo, but only if he is in a good mood. And then he charges you $300 for the whole conversation.

Poo and how it relates to your child becomes the cornerstone of the parenting existence.

First it was meconium..... everyone warns you about meconium, but the reality is much worse. Thank god it doesn't smell, but it would make excellent road base. That stuff is impermeable to everything.
Then breast milk poo. It is not uncommon to hear parents say " I miss breast milk poo." I miss breast milk poo! It was so sweet smelling and yellow. IT WAS!
Then the excitement of seeing the by-products of solids, the horror of toddler poos, and the sheer exaltation of a poo in the potty.

Now, non-parents, can you see why this photo makes me divinely happy?

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Adventures are fun! (and a tad exhausting!)

Adventures are fun! I am trying my hardest to have more 'fun' as a Mummy, and enjoy individual moments more, instead of spending whole days freaking out because my house isn't (literally) perfect all the time. If I was left to my own devices, I am sure my mind would send me insane, because if my vision doesn't match my reality, I tend to go a little crazy. (OCD? No.........I'm not that bad. Either that, or not diagnosed)

So, today, instead of heading straight home from daycare, to cook a nutritionally-sound-yet-toddler-friendly main meal (that she won't eat anyway) and furiously try to empty my laundry basket whilst performing other feats of domestic goddessery, I asked Ava where she wanted to go. She said 'the park' and off we went! (Just like that! How easy was that! Don't think about what you are not at home doing! ARGH)

Before we got to the park, Ava spotted the lake in Minnawarra Park, and said she wanted to see the ducks. I turned the car, and parked. We got out. We chased ducks. See, I'm spontaneous!

Then 'babycino'. Right off to the shopping centre! Babycino it is. 'Park', okay, off to the park. Dinner time has passed, we should be in the bath, but hey! I am a modern mummy, I am spending quality time! Random, drunk, homeless lady chatting away to us? Yes, smile, make conversation, don't judge, be polite (stay away from my daughter...)
Then, 'chippies?'
'Are you hungry?'
'Yeah'
'Home time?'
'chippies?'... Aaaaaahhhhhhh.......I took that as a yes.

I am quite proud of myself.....right, off to bleach everything. :)

Sunday, September 19, 2010

I am exhausted...

Literally, I am exhausted.

Down to my bones, cannot drag myself around the house, dog tired. What I would give for a nice long holiday to a warm place, lazing in the sun (in this fantasy I am 10 kilos lighter of course) and having a nanny to deal with all the toddler attitude and I get all the kisses and hugs and cheeky giggles.

Instead, in about 5 minutes, I have to get Little Miss Muffet into pants (multiple accidents this morning), pack the daycare bag, get myself ready for work and set off. I am so exhausted that I cannot even be bothered ringing in sick for work.

Ugh.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Going to work and more tantrums.

"Bye, Mummy, Bye!"

Ava is going to work again. She has a travel mug, and has stuffed a baby cabbage patch doll inside it, has a cookie tin filled with all sorts of random things. Her bright little face shines as she announces that she is 'off to work' and she troupes dutifully into the lougeroom, unpacks her work things, carefully packs them up, and marches back to the kitchen.

"Hello, Mummy, I'm home! I'm home from work!"

Oh baby, if only is was that fun!

We have had a horrid couple of days, filled with willful tantrums, loads of tears and time out. I am sure that other toddlers must do it too, but Ava becomes completely irrational when she is in full blown tanty mode. There is nothing you can do but wait for her to burn herself out.

Yesterday we went to Officeworks, to get some binding done and buy a whiteboard for the kitchen. Ava hadn't slept properly and she went into full on tanty mode as soon as I plonked her in the trolley and told her she couldn't walk. It was so bad that at one point a well meaning, young staff member asked if I would like some water to calm her down. Yes, well meaning young lady, just give me a barrel, so I can dunk her in a little bit and swish her around. That will calm her down. (I politely declined)

I honestly was so frustrated and upset and overwhelmed that I wanted to slap her across the face.  OF COURSE I didn't, but I can understand how a person with less patience and understanding and no support network could. So, I muttered over and over to myself  'bigger, kinder, wiser, bigger, kinder, wiser' to remind myself that I am the grown up and that it is my job to show Ava how to deal with big feelings and how to behave. I attached my well practised 'calm face' and ignored all the 'tuts' and whispers and (at one point) snide comments.Yes old lady, I heard you. Was that really neccessary? Do you not think I was feeling shit already before you chimed in. Yes, my toddler is in meltdown. Yes, she is inconvieniently noisy. Yes, she is screaming and trying to climb out of the trolley. Yes, I know that you probably want to shop in peace. No, I am not going to hit her. No, I am not going to leave. No, I don't care what you think of me, my child or my parenting. I am the person who has been blessed with her, I have to live with her everyday, so I will do what I think is right. Thank you for not really understanding.

Ava. Why are you so very, very frustrated? I hope it is just your age my Precious Princess and that your words will soon catch up with your feelings and thoughts and all these meltdowns will stop.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Hayley and the 'other' place

Ava has an imaginary friend.

"Hayley" first appeared in the house we lived in before this one. At first I thought there must have been a little girl at daycare who was called Hayley....nope.We have no friends or family who are "Hayley's" that we see regularly, nor are there any "Hayley's" in any of the books we own!

WHERE DID HAYLEY COME FROM?

When you ask Ava, Hayley has 'pink' hair, but if you ask her to pick out any "Hayley's" in the shopping centre, she invariably points to women with shoulder length or a bit longer, dark brown hair. Hayley is a girl (according to Ava) and she lives 'in a house'. Well, at least Hayley isn't homeless.

She joined Ava in the bath the other night. I heard Ava playing and talking to Hayley.

Ava: Here you go Hayley, that's your cup. Go on, take it. Go on, take it. Drink it, you like it? Yes? Mmm? (and so forth and so on)

 And so I popped my head around the corner.

Me: Is Hayley in the bath with you?
Ava: Yeah.
Me: Really?
Ava: Ummmmmmm (really cute, quizzical face) No. She gone.
Me: Hayley's gone? Where.
Ava: Away.

Away! Of course, why did I not think of that!

Who is this person I don't know? Hayley, you are spending an awful lot of time with my daughter, so you better be good, and kind, and sweet natured and polite, and do poos and wees on the potty and say pardon when you do fluffies and burps. And if not? Well.....see my previous post!

 *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *  

My gym has an afternoon\night time creche. It really is very, very good, as it allows me to be able to exercise and know that Ava is safe and wearing herself out, playing with other kids. The only downside is that right next door is a kids activity centre, a really good, big one! And if I don't remember to park where Ava can't see it as we walk in, well....it causes dramas.

On the way in tonight, I forgot, and parked right infront of the damned thing. We were a little early, and so they still had on the lights, illuminating the bright colours and cool jungle gym and racing track. 

Of course, Ava got so excited and thought we were going in, and so I said to her (to placate her so I could burn off some calories) "Later, darling, later." Happily, she trotted off into te creche, and I went and punished my body. 

I got back to the creche, and Ava lit up, babbling away as she put her shoes on, said 'bye bye' and 'tank you' to the ladies, and pulled excitedly on my hand. What was she saying? Why all the fuss? I lent down to hear what she was saying:

"The other place, mummy, the other place, come one, the other place mummy...."

The other place? WHAT other place? And as we stopped in front of the activity centre, and it's big, locked roller door, my mind went 'That other place, you wally'. The other place, of course.

The fact that it was closed at 7pm on a Tuesday night displeased Ava. She staged a one toddler protest.

But was tempted home with promises of hot chocolate. It's a tough life.

Monday, September 13, 2010

My Warrior Mother

Something inside you awakens in you when you have a child. Something very primitive and instinctive and a little bit scary.

I call it my WARRIOR MOTHER.

I have always been a reasonable person; I am calm under pressure, logical, and I don't often lose my temper. I am a little but shy when it comes to new people. I think that manners and social graces are very important and I despise rudeness and arrogance. I like being around people who are geniune, warm and tolerant.

My WARRIOR MOTHER has other ideas.

SHE is not that dissimilar to me, except her motivations are not quite as diverse. SHE has one overiding motivation and that is to protect and defend the small one at all costs. Someone points out Ava's bright red hair in the street? SHE curls her lip back and growls a warning not to touch the small one's head. Someone carelessly bumps Ava in the shopping centre? SHE snaps around, snarling and shielding the small one. One of the other small children at daycare wants a toy, and hits Ava because she has it? I can barely restrain HER, because all she wants to do is go and slap that child as hard as SHE can for daring to touch HER baby.

When Ava was small, we were at the pool, swimming. It was Ava's second time in the water, and she was timidly kicking her chubby little legs, feeling her way and trusting the big people to keep her safe. Some boys of about 9 or 10 were throwing a ball to each other over the pool. A couple of throws, happy laughter,until a throw fell short, and landed on Ava's face.

WARRIOR MOTHER took over immediately, snatching the screaming and scared baby from her shocked father's arms, SHE cradled the infant tightly to her body, and started after the boys.
The poor boys took off in a blind panic. I am sure that they have never been so scared in their lives.

Well now, the obvious truth here is that the Warrior Mother is not a mythical being, nor is she a separate entity like in a fantasty RPG, but who I am, now that I am a "mother". The pure intensity of that rage in that moment will stick with me for the rest of my life. Ava had awakened in me a love so intense, and so complete that I would literally go aganst my nature to protect it. And I will, over and over. Each new challenge Ava faces brings with it an emotional reaction so visceral and so strong that I have named her. She is my WARRIOR MOTHER.

Ava, you permeate every second of my time and every part of my being. I want everything for you, and nothing more than to know that I am getting some of the 'mothering' things right. I don't understand how I thought I knew about love before you.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Proper Two Year Old Tantrums...

Ava had a proper, two year old tantrum today. The kind that make you want to burst into tears as well, and kick and scream and sob until someone bigger, stronger, wiser and far more patient comes and rescues you.

It began with Ava wanting to 'walk' in the shopping centre. I use the inverted commas, because Ava walking is a very slow and frustrating game of trying-to-convince-the-toddler-to-go-the-direction-you-want-to-go. Surely God is laughing, watching me deal with the most willful, impetuous and single minded toddler on the planet.

A sample: (if you weren't walking through these particular shops today to witness the spectacle)

Me: Ava, come on! We are going to have our picture taken! (Pixie Photos)
Ava: Mummy, I wanna go park. I see park. Over there! (pointing in the complete opposite direction) Come on, Mummy!
Me: We will go the park after the photos! Do you want to go to the park?
Ava: Yes, Mummy, I walk. Park, where aaaaaaaaaaaarrrree youuuuuuuuuu?
Me: Quickly, hurry. Do you want to run? Can Mummy pick you up?
Ava: NO I WALK! (Walks at snails pace, stopping to look at, touch and run after everything she sees)

And so it went until I pulled her off the tenth or so exciting thing she had discovered :

Ava: Look, Mummy, Look! LOOK AT THIS! MUMMY, LOOK AT ME!

Oh baby-girl! Precious Princess, I so want to! I want to reach into your world. I want to experience every tiny detail with you and pick apart how it works and I want you to ask me WHY a thousand times BUT WE WERE RUNNING LATE and I was SO CRANKY.

So, I picked her up, not dissimliarly to the way that a rugby player would attack a ball, and carried the screaming 2 and a bit year old to a bench, plonked her down on the floor and waited for a good 5 minutes while she screamed and kicked and lay face down on the shopping centre floor. Prostrate, irrational and full up with frustration and rage, she screamed blue murder into the filthy floor. I carefully attached my calm face.

People walked by. Some tutted and glared, daring me to stop her, smack her or god knows what else, some stared, gobsmacked that a small child could be loud and so very angry. Others smiled gently, knowing that my brave mask of calm was precariously close to slipping off and crashing into a thousand pieces.

Eventually, she calmed down, crying quietly into the floor, and I knew that the fury had burnt itself out and it was obvious that she was sad, and a little overwhelmed. I asked her if she was ready for a cuddle, and little arms reached up for reassurance and acceptance. I told her that I didn't like it when she cried, and that I wanted Ava to be happy again. I asked her to say sorry, and she did and we sat and cuddled, exhausted and in love with each other.

Monday, September 6, 2010

Trying to be supermum

Yesterday I was chatting with a colleague of mine, and she said to me that she challenged herself to do all the housework during the week, instead of on the weekend. YES, THAT'S RIGHT.... I think my world shifted a little when she said that.

My Saturday mornings consist of me, brainlessly exhausted from work, doggedly cleaning the playroom, kitchen, laundry, doing the sheets, wiping the benches, doing the dishes, cleaning the bathroom and the toilet....ALL ON SATURDAY. Of course this never works and makes me feel like I have failed and that makes me a cranky mummy. AND OF COURSE, when you write it down like it is above, it IS madness. I am mad. And unrealistic.

So, I am going to give it a go. This morning I got up at 6 (instead of 7....and I am still running late. Nice work me.) BUT I have folded about 6 loads of washing, washed 2, put dinner in the slow cooker, washed the dishes, cleaned up 3 accidents (thanks Ava) and now I NEED TO STOP BLOGGING CAUSE I AM RUNNING LATE!
Bye, Supermums.

Should we go back to the way it was?


So, on the way to work this morning, the announcers had a phone in question for all the happy morning drivers....Should we revert to the way family used to be? Should the woman stay home with the babies and keep house and should the man be the breadwinner?

My first gut reaction was to turn the radio off....all I needed after waking at 6, enduring a tantrum half asleep, trying to look presentable and realising that I hate all my clothes and I want to go to work in my jarmies, making breakfast, doing potty runs, making sure the daycare bag had fruit, pull ups, knickers, about 10 pairs of spare pants and then being in the car, ready by 7.30 was to listen to the 'Dump and Run' brigade telling me I am a bad mother for needing to feed, clothe and house my child, rather than staying home (not that I would have a home if I didn't work.)

But then I turned it back on. I got pissed off! How dare anyone make me feel bad for doing what I need to for my child! Full of self-righteous anger, I tuned back in. Sure enough, some said that mothers who work full-time are soley to blame for every modern problem known to man and some that we haven't even discovered yet, and some said that all children should be in daycare and not at home being mollycoddled.

I don't think that really anyone has the perfect method. Yes, I would like to be home full time with my daughter. She is the light and centre of my entire existance. Nobody even comes close to be as precious to me as she is; she is my life's personal trump card. However the truth is not quite as black and white as some debators would like it; I need to work to support our existance. I am not an extravagant person, we don't have the latest and greatest of everything, we have enough to get by. We need to pay the rent, and buy food, and keep the electricity on.

The best mother I can be for her is a working one. It's not perfect, but what is in this world?

Saturday, September 4, 2010

enough wallowing....and facebooking!

Enough wallowing and dwelling on the past....time to make yummy mummy foods.

Since I am now financially independent, the budget has taken a severe overhaul.....as in every cent has to be accounted for and utilised. So my oven is getting a bit of a work out. NO MORE is my cupboard full of ready made toddler treats, and pre packaged snacks. This mummies oven has been getting a workout.

So, what is on the cards today? Well, Ava is heading off to her Daddies for Father's Day, so Mummy is going to use the peace and quiet! At the shops I picked up a massive (2 kg) bag of Oats for $1.99, so I think that oat biscuits are the flavour of the day. And maybe some scones? Outrageous!

Lets give this a try:

Rolled Oat Biscuits (apparently an old CWA recipe....which means it is bound to be good!)

Ingredients

2 cups of rolled oats
3/4 cup of Self Raising Flour
1/2 cup of sugar
1/2 cup of butter (this will have to be nuttelex, as Ava is dairy intolerant)
1 tsp of honey/maple sryup/treacle (mine will be honey....I have some lovely wildflower honey in the cupboard)
1/2 tsp of bicarb soda
1/4 cup of chopped walnuts (sorry CWA, I am going to leave these out.)

Method

1. Mix all dry ingredients together
2. Dissolve Butter with 2 Tbsp of boiling water and the treacle and mix all together
3. Place out in Tbsp portions
4. Bake 230 C until brown. 

THEY ARE SOOOOOOO YUMMY..... nom nom nom.

Friday, September 3, 2010

What a difference a year makes.

A little over a year ago I made the very difficult decision to leave my husband, and as it turned out, my home, financial security and for a little while, my sanity.

This decision took me a very long time to come to...it's not an easy thing to tell someone that although you respect them as a friend and father of your child, that you no longer are romantically in love with them. I hurt Ava's Dad very much, and he still, to this day, is very angry and hurt.

The months following Ava's birth, I think her Dad was in a very dark place. He spent a lot of time away from the house, doing a lot of martial arts and other testosterone fueled activities. His temper became shorter and shorter, and he would ridicule me in front of his friends and family. In hindsight, I guess that he was very depressed and felt trapped and unsure of his new role as a father and so he coped by running away. And the more I pushed him to be the family man I wanted him to be, the more he got angry and aggressive. I felt like I was left to do everything: parenting, cleaning, working (I was back at work when Ava was 6 months old), gardening....basically holding the fort whilst he used me as a home base.

I had no idea why the man I loved morphed into this man. I felt like he stopped caring about me and how I felt and he has remained focussed on himself and his needs ever since. I missed the man who would call me his Princess and agree to my crazy adventures. I didn't want to be with someone who was so self centred and full of anger and who made me feel used and miserable.

A man I knew and I became great friends. He showed me what it was like to be respected and trusted and treated well. He was kind to me, didn't put me down or ridicule me, didn't treat me like a piece of meat to be used whenever the urge struck. He liked me for who I was inside and how our relationship made him feel. We were only friends, but we already felt like soulmates.

So, I fell in love with him. Not being a deceitful person by nature, I worked up the courage to tell my husband that I no longer loved him and I thought I had feelings for someone else. It took me a week, but finally Ava's Daddy asked me what was wrong, and I told him. Everything and the truth.

And now it has been a year. A very tumultous year. I have lost so very, very much, but gained things as well. And the biggest thing I have gained is the feeling that I am doing what is right. Right for me, right for my baby, and right for the person that helped me bring her into the world. The harsh truth is always better than sugar coated lies.