Archive | April, 2015

It’s good to talk. To adults. 

16 Apr

How many  people have you spoken to today? Had a chat with? Exchanged pleasantries or had a moan? Talked about Game of Thrones or footy or traffic or weather? 

I’ve spoken to my children, one friend and to my husband.  That’s it.  I said hello to nursery staff at pick up time.  I said thanks to a lady at the supermarket self service till (not  sure why, she just stood there) and that’s the grand total of today’s conversational action. 

Oh I did shout at a cockwomble van man for driving like an arse, but I don’t think we’ll dwell on that.  

Being at home with small kids can be lonely.   Ironically my spellchecker kept trying to change  that to ‘lovely’. Ha. No. 

With my first child I had the freedom of going to all  the baby groups and classes I wanted, unimpeded by the needs and demands of a child 2 years older. Now, I don’t really know many people with a baby the same age.  There are few activities that happily placate my 1 year old and my 3 year old simultaneously.  Everything is hard work.  Taking my one year old to friends houses just seems rude, what with the inevitable path of destruction or vomit he will leave in his wake.   Parents of older kids forget very quickly what it’s like to host what is essentially a tiny, drunk, impulsive, unreasonable midget, hellbent on Smashing Shit Up, grabbing cables, eating cat food or doing irreparable damage to himself or their stuff.  

Yes.  The baby, who has been a joy, is now a git.  A screeching, stropping, flailing beast.  That’s a bit unfair.  He’s only really a Beast when he can’t do exactly what he wants.   He is happiest flirting with mortal danger or self-maiming endeavours, dismantling stuff, eating paper or sticking his tongue into the charging port of my iPhone.  Needless to say, he hears “No!” more than he’d like.  

I work part time so I’m not really a SAHM, but I kind of feel I have the worst of both worlds.  Not only do I have the domestic drudgery of constant childcare and chores, I also have the stress of working and the associated child related logistics of such.  I need to fit my work around my clients, my childcare and my husband. I don’t have the luxury or making it convenient for me. I sometimes work evenings after 13 hours of child wrangling.  Ouch.  

And it Never Ends.  I do only work  a few hours a week (as a private therapist) along with mostly looking after my kids and doing the lions share of domestic crap like laundry, grocery shopping and cooking.  The weekend is the same but with my husband helping out with kids. I’m still doing the same old shit. It’s relentless.  

Among my friends the phrase This Too  Shall Pass is often given as reassurance during tough times.  I’m now living in more of an It Never Ends kinda place.  

I appreciate this is a bit of a woe is me post. Sorry about that.  I need to go to bed now as the only time I get to go for a run (or plod and lurch like a fat semi-lame wildebeest) is by getting up at 5.45am.  Really.  

What’s the moral of this post?  Engage with your mum  friends.  The only other conversations she might’ve had today were probably  about poo or Pom Bears.  

  

Hello! Hi! Don’t step in the sick.

8 Apr

Hello? Remember me? I’m not sure I do. It’s been a while and motherhood has been a challenge. It often seems to take up every scrap of energy and enthusiasm I can muster. I’m going to restart the blog (if nothing else it’s an outlet for my moaning) but first we need to catch up on the last 9 months.

So. Inglorious Baby turned one (ONE!!!) on Monday and Inglorious Preschooler is now 3. This I can believe as she’s practically a teenager in temperament and behaviour. More on that later. The Threenager blog is coming soon.  Shudder.

Firstly I want to share the details of the baby’s health, as this has dominated a lot of the year. This year has been difficult. Following the baby’s pneumothorax and reflux (see previous posts for more of that joy) he has since had a heart murmur (thankfully now resolved) and an ENT condition called Laryngomalacia. It’s not serious but it is incredibly frustrating as it causes or possibly aggravates (we think) severe reflux symptoms. If you think baby reflux is bad, try cleaning up a pond of partially digested sweet and sour chicken and rice and off of your floor/walls/shoes/life.
The baby, at worst, was doing a big sick up to 8 times a day. Thankfully it didn’t dampen his wonderful spirits or cause him pain. It just created All The Washing, made feeding a nightmare, sleeping went tits-up as he’d wake up starving in the night and I was constantly yelling “DON’T STEP IN THAT SICK!”
I felt sorry for the baby, and I also felt sorry for my daughter. Many times we had to leave friends houses or outings after multiple sick incidents had used up all the spare clothes (or all my friends polite goodwill). I felt sorry for myself too. I spent all my time trying to get food and milk into him, hoping it would stay in and then pointing him away from me/the sofa/the cot/the cat when it inevitably came out again. I felt I was constantly cleaning up sick, washing clothes and bedding, always with the smell of vomit lingering in my nostrils. Bleak.
We’ve just had a few weeks without vomiting and it was glorious. Yesterday it came back. This morning I found myself trying to get a tight tshirt over my head without getting regurgitated milk on my face or in my hair. Sigh.
We have a paediatrician appointment next week to get a second opinion (outside of ENT). Maybe this will help. Maybe they too will suggest an investigative procedure to look at the structure of his throat as we believe the problem isn’t gastric. I hope this won’t be necessary as it requires a general anaesthetic and overnight stay in hospital.
The main thing is that the boy is happy. He really is full to the brim with joy, enthusiasm and energy. He is lovely. He’s also huge which is comforting. Our lovely ENT consultant always loves seeing such a hefty baby as the main associated problems of this condition is failure to thrive and malnutrition. That’s no problem for us. He is nicknamed The Beast due to his size and his heavy handedness and his relentlessly joyous destructive tendencies.

So, that’s the baby.
Next: The Threenager.

TTFN.