……The Naked Mum 'Uncut'……

  I have found my second pregnancy to be easier in some ways but much more difficult in others, especially when it comes to the exhaustion I have been experiencing the last few months as a working mum. The first time around after slogging it out at the office all day I could come home and dive on the couch, but now I have bouncing pre-schooler waiting for me at the kindergarten gates.
I have struggled through the last five months but now thanks to Doctors advice I have bitten the bullet and started my maternity leave a little earlier than expected.

Today is my first day of being a TV mum. You know the ones. The mums that drop the kids off at school and then pop down to do the groceries (on their own) before driving home to put on the washing and make the beds. (Just bliss – Hey I know it probably isn’t that great, but that is what office daydreaming is for)

Anyway , I was definitely looking forward today. A day that promised a less chaotic morning, (hence mum not worrying about being sacked for being late again) and more importantly, a much less busy evening. (I.e. shopping, washing etc done before I get home from work)

But in no way was I prepared for the amazing feeling of peace, relief and freedom that has come with actually being on my own. (I had nowhere to be, nothing pressing to do, and no one to supervise) After somewhat guiltily dropping my gorgeous little girl off at child care, I strolled down to the supermarket, picked out the groceries I needed, (not what little princess wanted) without the feeling of urgency I have after work, and almost floated back to the car whilst staring into the dress shop windows.

When I got home, the house felt so big and so quiet. I walked around picking up toys and unloading groceries just soaking in the strange sense of peace and freedom. It is definitely a nice feeling having a moment to think, but at the same time it feels very strange. It is the first time in four years I have been in the house on my own, and as much as I have fantasised about it, I think it is going to get a bit of getting used to.

After pushing through three long days of paid employment I was looking forward to today, as Thursdays are our official mummy daughter day.  My princess had slept through the night for the first time in ages, and we had actually managed to get dressed and were out of the door at a very reasonable hour.  I was pleased; we had the whole day ahead of us, and plenty of time and energy in which to fill it.

Thanks to the devastating January floods, we are still driving 15 kms to a grocery store, so buying food is now an outing.  We were about 10kms up the road, (only five minutes from our destination), the sun was shining, and I felt good, the day was going well. 

When all of a sudden I hear my princess cry and seconds later look over my shoulder to see her projectile vomiting all over herself and the car seat. 

My first thought was OMG! I have to pull over, but being on the busiest road out of town, I was trapped.  One km up the road I spot McDonalds and pull in.  Next thing you know my beautiful sunny day, finds me standing in a car park trying to mop last night’s dinner off a very upset and confused little girl.

Thinking I was only going to the grocery store and a run around Westfield’s I didn’t pack anything for her but a couple of nappies and wipes, so found myself with a nappy clad baby wrapped up in my work jacket searching desperately for a boutique or something where I could buy some children’s clothes.  I manage to nab a new outfit at the chemist of all places, by which time my toddler now seems OK and has asked if she can please go the Old McDonald’s park.  So thinking what else do I do decide to let her have a little run around before getting some groceries and heading home.

We are there less than a minute before I spy a mother who only a few weeks ago, cornered me for half an hour on my way out.  I try to avoid her, but only manage to almost knock myself out on a play slide, she of course notices me, runs over, and begins to repeat her life story once again.  (She seems not to recognise me or remember telling me the exact same story a few weeks ago)

Half an hour later we finally manage to escape, grab a few basics from the local woollies and head back to the car.  Of course my day was improved by the fact that someone had parked me in, and I had about 2 cms in which to try to squeeze a wiggly toddler into her car seat.  (Some days I wish I drove a $500 car so I could just leave him some orange and green paint as a friendly thank you note for his great parking)

After an interesting morning we are finally on our way home and the heavens finally smile on me and let my princess visit the lad of nod.  After successfully completing the elusive transfer I spend the next hour of her precious sleep time, pulling apart and disinfecting her car seat.  Now I just hope that I can somehow get the car seat cover back on.  With my perfect day in ruins, and my only chance of getting anything done whilst she slept, gone, I have admitted defeat and decided to whinge and whine on my blog instead.

I hope all you mums and dads out there are having a good day, and get a laugh or two from my morning’s misfortunate.   Now I can only wonder what the afternoon will bring.

After a gruelling pregnancy, a mammoth labour, and an overwhelmingly, exhausting and stressful first year of motherhood, I returned to work last year.  Albeit I am “easing” back into the workforce and have opted to work three days at week at my place of employment and spend the remainder of the week working on my website, blog, book and being a super mum and housewife.  But by no means , would I ever consider myself as a yummy mummy that “only works part time”.

Like all mother’s I realise all to well that a women’s work is never done.  And that after our husbands toddle off to bed after falling asleep in front of the TV.  We will spend yet another 30 minutes running around doing the last bits and pieces required to make tomorrows morning circus just that little bit easier.  But despite coping without getting any of the thanks or credit I  probably deserve, the one thing that I will never get used to is people, particularly the big hairy type, insinuating that I have it easy as I only have to navigate the city traffic three times a week not five.

No matter what men may think they do or don’t do around the house.  Women still do by far the vast majority of work and that usually includes the 2.00am wake up calls.  And as exhausting as it is, I knew that when I had a baby and became a mother, that I was about to sacrafice a huge chunk of my own time, energy and sanity into the raising of my daughter.  But when after a huge day of work and yet another night of broken sleep I have to hear my hubby telling me not to worry about myoverwhelming exhaustion or  impending breakdown as “I don’t have to work tomorrow” I do wonder to myself if it really would be unfair to use that fry-pan for something other than cooking his homemade dinner…..

Most days I feel like I am fighting an uphill battle.  No matter how hard I work, how much I shop around, how much I try to do what is right for me and my family, I am always fighting the establishment.

Every timeI turn on the news or open the mail, I am informed that the Government is implementing something that I probably don’t like or want, or someone is going to be putting up the cost of living again.  It is enough to make you want to scream.

This week has not been any different.  On Monday we received a pamphlet advising us that we could join in the “Greening Our Streets” campaign, and help plant trees in our street on Saturday.

In theory that seemed nice.  Our planet needs more oxygen forming trees and we all love to look at greenery more so than a concrete jungle, but then I came home the next day to find four huge pink crossed on my front lawn, marking out where ‘said’ trees would be planted.

Hang on a mintue I thought.  Who is going to be digging up my beautiful front garden to plant big horrible trees that I know nothing about. 

What kind of trees are these? How big are the roots? Will they shed sap and leaves everywhere? Will I now have to mow around 4 more trees?

The more I thought about it, the more I didn’t like the idea, and neither did most of my neighbours.  We have nothing against plants, but we want the right kind, in the right place and the type that will beautify our homes, not make a mess or give us hayfever.

I was sitting on my front stairs trying to think of some ‘grand’ plan to destroy this campaign, working at how I was going to sell my case to the who ever was lucky enough to answer my phone, call when I was given the opportunity to speak to the contractors hired to dig the holes for Saturdays tree planting.

At first I wanted to claw out the eyes of this person, about to stick a huge hole digging machine in my beautiful lawn, until after a little friendly banter I found out that the trees were optional and that we could choose whether or not we wanted them. 

 ”YES!” I thought, this is fantastic.

No longer did I have to spend my baby’s nap time fighting with some bureaucratic on the phone, a little sweet talk and  a smile had got me what I wanted.  So today, I feel like I have had a little win.  Nasty Big Bad World ’0′, Me ’1′……….

Motherhood really does remind me of Charles Dickens famous lines ” It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”. 

After a long week at work I am finally on my day off, today is mummy daughter day, and we get to hang out together. 

Unfortunately like many of our days off together we have to run around town doing errands.  The doctors, the pharmacy, the shopping, the bakery.  Whilst we do manage to try and have some fun together, some days, these simple chores turn into a full blown battle to get a few simple tasks accomplished in a reasonable amount of time, whilst still amusing an excited and energy filled toddler.

Today was one of those days.  Today the little princess had no intention of sitting peacefully in the trolley people watching.  No today she wanted to stand in the trolley.  Climb down my leg and run in the opposite direction to the trolley.  Grab dozens of packets of biscuits off the shelf and throw them into the trolley, and then help speed up the process by pushing the trolley at a speed of two metres an hour. 

After this hour of fun, we then had the battle of paying for the groceries, picking up the script and getting the food into the car without getting the baby killed.

By the time I got home I was exhausted, and there were still bags to get in, nappies to be changed, cold food to be packed away and lunch to be made with the mid day  nap time inching ever closer and her happy go lucky nature going down hill fast.

After a near miss with a grab and projectiled dirty nappy, a battle over today’s dose of antibiotics and a unconvincing game of let’s each lunch, I finally exhaustingly decided to give it all a miss, put her to bed with liquid yoghurt as a reasonable excuse for lunch and try to have a hot cup of tea for once.

As I sit down at my laptop and sip my warm tea and eat my apple teacake (yes my idea of a quick and healthy lunch) I physically and emotionally feel like my soul has been ripped out, dragged behind a bus and shoved roughly back into my tired and weary body. 

I will get an hour or so to wind down, before the afternoon play time begins.  Motherhood is fun but so exhausting.

Mmmm what was that? Did I hear a mummy coming from the other room.  Oh well no more down time for me today.  It is off to get my baby so the afternoon’s games can begin………

I have had a pretty bad run of luck lately when it has come to my daughter’s health.  In the past 3 months she has fallen off a chair at day care which resulted in a split lip and two chipped teeth.  Ended up with a full leg cast after experiencing a toddler fracture in her leg (again at kindy… Mpphhhmmmm!!), been hit by a bike, had a cold and most recently suffered through a middle ear infection.

What you find most apparent when you become a parent, is how much time you see to spend at the Doctor’s and the pharmacy with your baby. 

When you are pregnant you usually dream about gurgling babies and rolling on a blanket in the park whilst baking in the warmth of the morning sun, but the harsh reality is, that once you take your baby out into the big bad world, then those nasty germs and inevitable ‘Murphy’s Law’ is waiting there with bated breath to reek havoc on a new innocent body.  And you spend many of those sunny days sitting in  a cold dark Doctors office.

Last week we visited the Doctor in the hope to get some medicine to clear up my little princesses sore ear. However, mornings, being mornings, we ended up arriving at the clinic 3 minutes late.  I was already in a fluster, as I hate being late, but what took me by surprise this morning was that I was chastised by the Doctor for being late.  Me! You are chastising me for being late! Mmphhh! I thought!

I was actually shocked.  I do not know how many hours I have spent staring at the bleak white walls of his waiting room, whilst he did, who knows what in his office. Whilst I sat patiently wasting my precious time.  Being too busy to make a comment, I just took it on the chin, got my script and got out of there.  But this story does not end there.   Yesterday I needed to go back for a follow up visit to see how the little princesses ear was healing and I made sure I arrived 5 minutes early.  And I bet you can guess what happened, I saw a patient walk out of his room, and then proceed to sit there and stare at his bleak white surgery walls, for another 20 minutes. 

He wanders out without a care in the world and ushers us into his room… No comments here about ‘his’ lateness or any apologies for making ‘me’ wait.   It really must be nice to think that your time is more important than others……. Grrrr!

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Today, my princess and I attended our weekly swimming lesson.  We had a great time splashing around and trying to blow bubbles, but as usual it was over way too fast.  Whilst we enjoy the lessons, the getting out, getting showered and dressed, is always a long and tedious process. 

Whilst we were hanging around waiting for a spot in the showers to become free, I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between two mothers standing just adjacent to it.

The jist of the conversation was that one of the mums was asking the other mum about her kids, and the other mother actually replied that they weren’t her kids, that she was actually their nanny and she had been looking after them, since the eldest was 5 months old.

Now I must admit that I nearly chocked with schock on the spot! Not because the children had a nanny, but because this woman that I had chatted to on numerous occassions and asked for parenting advice, was not these kids mum.  I just couldn’t believe it… She just looked so much like their mum. 

Not only do they look like her, and obviously adore her, she has an air of complete competence and efficiency that only comes with being a mum a couple of times around.  She is so wonderful and natural with these children that no-one could possibly guess that she was anything but their mother. 

I just shook my head in disbelieve and thought to myself, that mother’s do come in all shapes and forms, and that you do not necessarily have to birth a child to have them love you like a parent and for you to look to the world like their mother.  If only I could clone another of her to take home for my own family.

Elizabeth Stone once said “Making the decision to have a child – it’s momentous.  It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body”…….

Whilst this really is so true of parenthood, she did forget to mention that you will also quite often have a knot in your stomach and a lump in your throat. 

Today we decided to visit the park on the way home from the shops, hoping to let the little princess have a run around and let off some steam.  We had only been there five minutes when a young boy on a bike literally ran into, and rode straight over the top of her.   I felt like someone in one of those movies where everything is going really slow,  frame by frame, where you stand still and watch in horror as something terrible unfolds in front of your eye; powerless to stop it. 

My baby had only taken two or three steps away from me, and as I lent over to point her back in the direction of the nice soft grass.  A young boy on a bike ploughed straight into her, throwing her face first and skidding into the concrete path.  I must have screamed in terror as my fingers missed her tiny body by inches. 

As I bundled my sobbing and bleeding baby into my arms,  the little boy in question was gone, racing off down the path without a care in the world.

My heart was racing and I think I almost threw up on the spot.  My little one has only been out of  a leg cast for a week or two, and this happens!!!  A leg cast you may ask?  Yes!  Now don’t even get me started on how a well supervised 16 month old baby falls so hard at daycare she ends up in a full leg cast. No, that is a story for another day. 

So back today, we were trying desperately to find the wipes and look for a cold pack in our picnic bag, when the father of ‘said’ child, came over.  I thought, ‘well this is nice,  he cares enough to come and check on how she is’.   As he approaches us he sees the two giant eggs forming on her tiny little face and mumbles ‘Oh! I see she has a big lump coming up’, to which my partner says ‘Yes! She did just get ploughed face first into the concrete’. 

Now what happened next, shocked both ourselves and everyone in earshot, the father of Speedy Gonzales then proceeded to abuse us, telling us that it was our fault that his son ran over our baby.  His son who was not hurt, his son who didn’t bother to swerve, or stop once he had hit her.  According to him a 17  months old baby should know better than to step out onto a pathway in a park, where kids could be riding bikes (now let’s not hold it against him the fact that it is a footpath not a bike track -  and one can be found only five metres away may I add)

Now I don’t think anyone is really to blame when kids are playing in a park, as kids are… well kids… but I don’t think I was quite ready for another parent to abuse me for my child being hurt by theirs.  This was a surprise of it’s own altogether.   After not too politely asking ‘Mr Dad of the Year’ to leave, we proceeded to clean our daughter up and ship her home.

I spent the trip home and all this afternoon feeling sick to the stomach… No one prepares you for how horrible it feels, and how terribly helpless and guilty you feel when your baby gets hurt…

Whilst parenthood is filled with joy; it is also filled with a tremendous amount of fear and sorrow….  I wonder how I will go when she starts climbing trees and learning how to ride a bike herself… I fear for my own poor heart as much as I do for her soft little knees……….

Well better sign off now, so I can check, again! that she hasn’t died in her sleep from a head concussion …. And here I was thinking that if I had a girl I wouldn’t be at the ER every second week…..

Once a rock princess and now a yummy mummy…

It wasn’t that long ago, though sometimes it does feel like forever, that my Friday nights were alot different, and were quite frankly all about me.  After a huge week at work, I would get home, crack open a beer, and start winding down.  A bottle of wine would be opened as I started preparing dinner, and the evening would be spend hanging out with my partner.  Just chatting, listening to music or watching DVD’s.  Sometimes we would even ‘pull out our fingers’ and paint the town red.

We would stay up late doing whatever we liked, knowing that we could sleep in as long as we liked the next day, but now that I am mother to a super energised toddler, that resists sleep with the force of a Category 5 cyclone, my Friday nights are completely different.

After an hour of fighting to get her into the bath, then fighting again to get her back out of the same bath, my energy was starting to diminish.  After three laps of the lounge room avoiding getting  dressed, and a four part battle to get her to eat dinner (well decorate the floors and wall with the three types of dinner I prepared for her) I was already losing all interest in Friday night. 

After playing tag team for half an hour with my partner, I managed a semi warm dinner and a mouthful or two of wine.  The wine and the hope that I might get her to bed in time to watch the latest episode of Dexter re-energised my hope for some me time that night.

However, after six separate avoidance tactics when story time arrived, I was ready for bed.  But of course my parenting time was long from over as she had other ideas. 

Six stories, two escapes to the lounge room and three songs later we finally took our battle to stage two.  The rock and the lullaby.  After an hour of kicking, squirming and protesting the sleep bus finally arrived, and she reluctantly handed over her ticket and went for a ride.

I flicked on her night light, closed the door and drudged my way back down the hall.  Looking more like a solider returning from a bloody battle then a women that was out partying to 4.00am not that long ago.

After a couple of hours work on my website (the only time I get to work) I sipped the last of my wine and started wrapping up for bed.  But then that dreaded sound came… the 11.55pm wake up cry.

I felt my heart sink down into my stomach and sighed deeply, I was so tired and who knew how long this re-visit to the sleep bus would take.

An hour later I was dying to pee, the muscles in my back were spasaming and I would have paid a hundred dollars for a mouthful of water.  As I paced the halls I peeked into the master bedroom to see my ‘I’ll wait up for you’ hubby fast asleep in bed.  After another ten minutes of cruising the cold tiles I resided myself to a night of fighting for blankets and getting kicked in the belly as I wearily climbed into the spare bed with my little princess.  As she happily snuggled into my chest and finally blissfully drifted off into the land of nod, I stroked her hair, kissed her beautiful baby cheek, and thought about different my Friday nights are now.