The stuff they don't tell you

Babies are cute. They're sweet. They're lovely.

That's not the problem. 

The problem is, that they're also screamy, stinky and unpredictable. 

People don't tell you this. 

When your pregnant and 'glowing'. When you're excited and smiling about all the possibilities. You buy the tiniest, sweetest, pale coloured outfits. You beam.

When people ask questions, you say things like 'I'll just go with the flow' or 'let's see what happens'.

Then, this thing arrives. No-one tells you about pooping yourself in labour, or the blood. So MUCH blood. No-one tells you that breastfeeding HURTS. 

Where's the flippin' magic? The Huggies T.V.  ad theme music? The Egyptian cotton hospital robe? 

Huh? Where's that stuff?

No one tells you of the reality.

You know why? 

Some mothers have been known to eat their young.

Cause you'd most likely throw yourself down a couple of flights of stairs screaming "Geronimo!!!".

But seriously.

I love my son. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. (Except maybe that time I won a free Mars Bar by looking inside the wrapper!) Joking!

The day he arrived, I couldn't have been more taken with him. The pure love and joy that I experienced was overwhelming. 

Yadda yadda yadda.. 

All that stuff.

I think what has me writing today, is the spew.

You heard me. 

The vomit.

My precious bundle is now a toddler. He is currently experiencing his second vomiting bug in under a month. 

I WISH someone had told me about this stuff. This is the reality I needed to be aware of.

I can think of my very own T.V. ad right now...

Pumpkin anyone?

*Open scene. Mother and baby laying on soft, clean carpet. Natural lighting. Both smiling*

"Oh darling, my time with you is so precious"
*Baby giggles*

*Projectile vomits corn and Spaghetti Bolognese all over mothers white top*

*Slowly fades out with mother grabbing towels to mop up vomit, crying, as baby crawls through it, continuing to vomit.*

"Must be love.. love...love..." Playing softly in the back ground.

*End scene*

In conclusion, I'd like to say...

Babies are cute and sweet. They're lovely.

But if you've got the choice, live in a carpet free house.

Bianca
:)

Christmas Gift Guide for an 18month old.

Christmas.

It's everywhere right now.
Seriously. Everywhere.

I am not a Grinch. I'm not. Maybe I just don't love it the way others do?

But when Christmas starts in October, or sometimes earlier, it kind of drives me crazy.

We're having a massive holiday/get together this year with my side of the family. I remember when we first started organising, making calls, discussing details. It all seemed like it was going to be SO much fun.

Now it's getting closer, I'm having second thoughts.

Toddler on my hip,  I ponder. Camping? With a mobile human? By the water? And road?
Am I going to get any sleep at all? Probably not. Will I be constantly chasing my running, outdoorsy kid away from the water and roads? Yes. And when I'm not, thankfully my husband and family will do it for me.

 

This time last year. My innocent, clean little bundle!

Then I asked myself... Will he have the time of his life?

Yes. I do not doubt that our dirty, loud, cheeky son, will have the most amazing time.





I have also started thinking about what we should get him for Christmas. I don't think he'll really know what is going on Christmas Day. I'm sure he'll be excited, but he does get excited over having his shoes put on. So it should be quite the happy occasion.

Here is my list of possible ideas. Shall we call it Christmas Gift Guide for an 18month old? Perhaps I should say 18 month old boy? Although that seems a little off in my books.

The filthy 'Cyclone Eli'

- Gravel. In any container. Preferably with dirt on it.
- Mud. Just mud.
- Dry dog food and an empty cereal box.
- An ice cream container of pegs.
- Some kind of smart phone/ipad/mp3 player. (has to be in working order, or it'll be no fun at all to smash)
- Bottles of water, with loosely tightened lids, all sitting on clean carpet.
- Power cords.
- Old shovel.
- A banana.
- Old shoes. Lots of them.


I think that just about covers it.


What are you planning on getting your children for Christmas? 

The burden of caring.

People don't realise how much their existence means to others.

I have moved a few times now. To different towns and cities. I've had to say good-bye to many friends and make many more.

It is hard to explain what it's like to care about every single person you create a friendship with. I have found it a burden. Something I cannot switch off.

For many years, making friends with neighbours was something I didn't do. I was a uni student, then a brand new teacher. I wasn't confident, or charismatic enough for people to want to deal with me knocking at the front door, introducing myself. Would they like me? Would I like them?

Then, we moved into this quiet little street in South Bathurst. I had just picked up my very first puppy. Possum was divine. She was the tiniest, fluffiest, sweetest little thing. She came from such a nice home. (I still think of the breeders and their children, often.)... anyway, I'm getting side tracked.
So, I stepped out of the car, with my 1.1kg dog in a bulk Allens Redskins box and walked to go inside. I hear this voice. "Hi there! And what have you got there!?" My across the road neighbour, who I hadn't met (having only lived in the street for a few weeks), was warmly reaching out to me, to come over. We had received a card in the mail days earlier, welcoming us to the street, so it seemed appropriate.

Di was and still is, one of the warmest people I know. She loves her cats, her dogs who have passed away, her husband and her two children. From that moment on, Di and I became friends. An unlikely couple, as she was retired and I was only 22. We shared long chats, wine and the occasionally a BBQ gathering. I still consider Di a very good friend.

She was the beginning of my love for new people. I had never been very brave, until Di. When I realised I had been missing out on all the good people, I had to try harder.

I often wonder if the people since then, think of me, the way I think of them. Fond memories. Kind thoughts. Best wishes.

That question was answered just a few weeks ago, when a dear ex-neighbour named Zel, called me. She was/is a housebound retiree who I used to visit as often as possible. We didn't live next door to her for long, but she sends us Christmas and Easter cards, every year. She asks after Possum & Ruby. She was sad to hear that our rabbits are no longer with us. A caring, beautiful soul.

I must remember to take some fancy cheese to her, next time we're in Bathurst.

As I tear up, thinking of the people I have be-friended, lost and sometimes just drifted away from, I am trying to think of this burden as a blessing. So that everyone who has come into contact with me, can know that they have been loved.


For exactly who they are.

N is for Nostalgia ... and Nutella.

Marty and I have been in negotiations on the prospect of a second child. He agrees that it will be difficult adding number two to the brood.

I have made threats to go on strike, as a parent in general. That is, unless conditions improve, before non-existent second child arrives. More toilet breaks, better pay (some pay!?) and maybe some annual leave?

For the past four days, I've had a pretty sick kid, which hasn't helped with the idea of having more children. Picture me scrubbing poo & vomit from all surfaces. Washing all the linen and the clothes. Feeling queasy being around my own child. Doing this with two children? Oh gawd...

During this time... I may... MAY have thought about how nice it would be to rewind time. You know, back to when I wasn't a parent yet. Fewer responsibilities, explosive diarrhoea and projectile vomiting in my life.

While I was camped on the lounge, with a lethargic, clingy toddler, I began to look through old photos.

This is where the nostalgia came in....

Will I ever bed jump again? Ruin hotel beds, one crushed wheel at a time? Bruise my knees, hips, arms, for the sake of a photo? Oh, I hope so!

Will I ever pose like a moron, just for shits and giggles? Why am I even asking that? Of course I will..

 

Sometimes I wonder, could I have done more with the skills and qualifications I attained? Should I have done wilder things? More important things? 

Or was dancing the kangaroo moves, rocking out the lawn mower and bed jumping enough? 

All I know is... Vomit or no vomit, poo or no poo...

I am the luckiest woman alive.

Never make plans.

It has always baffled me how these clean, well dressed mothers, with 2 or more children, can leave the house during the day. They can get things done. All the while, looking composed and organised.

I wonder Do they drug their children? Why aren't the small ones crying uncontrollably? What's her secret?

It amazes me. With one. Yes, just one child, I am trapped. I'm here in the house, awaiting his mood to shift. His eyes open and a smile to appear. Good luck with that.

Life revolves around sleep.

I am pretty sure that it's a newbie thing. Us first time Mums, we think the sky will fall if the kid doesn't have his nap. That we couldn't possibly hold him out any longer, or his scream will shatter all the windows of the local shops.

In actual fact... we're the only ones who are bothered by this. It's really quite reasonable to consider, that if we left the house, the child may not lose his shit. The child might be fine...and if he's not.

No-one else cares.

So, right now I'm annoyed. 

I had plans. I had a whole day of organised activities to complete. 

- Gym.

- Fruit shop.

- Birthday party

Due to small, cranky human, falling asleep, right when I want to leave!

STUCK

*grumble grumble grumble*

Ok, maybe I'm feeling a bit sick, sad and sorry for myself. That's probably not helping.

Anyone else stuck at home on this sunny Spring day?

 

 

Wordless Wednesday - Snowtime, family fun.

The view

Wake up, Daddy!

Off for a bush walk.

Tobogganing with Mummy.

My first encounter with snow.

Linking up with

Two week diary of a Mother.

Moved house. Cried over so many kind people helping. Overwhelming.

Cried about mess, boxes, rubbish and clothes everywhere.

Giggled with glee over new house. All the pretty. All the space.

Fought with husband. 'Cause I could.

Spent days/weeks, looking for important, yet
  hard to find items in garage.

Had silent fight with previous landlord over petty cleaning and curtain replacement.

Lost my tiny Pomeranian doggy. For almost an hour.

Cried again.

Got her back.

Cried some more.

Worked a couple of times.

Fought with husband again.

Visitors came.

Cleaned.

Full nights of sleep - 2.

Clothing changes -  Me: 20 Eli:35

Drink bottles broken - 2.

Bruises - 10

Tantrums - Me: 75 Eli: 20 Marty: 10

Nose bleeds - 5

Deep bubble baths - 2

It's an understatement for me to say that I have been stressed out this past fortnight.

Then, I looked at this cheeky face. It fixes all the worries, all the time.

Time to breathe and stay in the moment. 

All the rest can wait.

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