There is no right time

Me at seven and a half months pregnant. I loved being pregnant but would it be the same if I went back for more?

Me at seven and a half months pregnant. I loved being pregnant but would it be the same if I went back for more?

The curly-haired monster is turning two in a few weeks. Yes two. I can hardly believe how fast those years have flown by. I still remember giving birth to him like it was yesterday.

Naturally people have been asking “when’s the next one coming?” or “are you going to have any more?” It’s a very personal question but of course it is something the boy and I have both pondered. I usually laugh it off with a maybe whenever I’m asked.

I think the decision to have more children is far tougher than deciding to have your first. The first time you have no idea what you are getting yourself into, it’s all very new, exciting and daunting at the same time.When your baby arrives you are filled with so much love and you couldn’t imagine loving anything more than him/her. It’s tough – and amazing – but you get to devote all of your time to one mini-human. One.

The first few months are a sleep-deprived blur of feeding, napping, cuddles and trying to find your way. By the time they get to one you’ve pretty much blocked that part of your life out and then you start to think hmm maybe it’s time for another. However then they start walking and you couldn’t possibly imagine having a newborn to care for too.

By one and a half things are much easier – if you’re lucky they are sleeping through, can pretty much feed them self and aren’t so reliant on you for constant entertainment. You think you’ve got this parenting gig down pat and high-five each other. Go mum! Go dad!

Then the tantrums and hissy fits start. So you think no way I will not be able to handle another one. You also wonder how your adorable wide-eyed precious prince can turn from cuddly monkey to demonic spawn of satan in the blink of an eye.

Before you know it your bubba is approaching two and you’re thinking where did that time go? What happened to my little baby? He’s running around, talking, telling you NO! Asking for sultanas, the Wiggles and wants you to kiss his little finger when he shuts it in the drawer/door/toy box for 10th time. He is fiercely independent.

You hold a newborn baby and your ovaries and heart start to ache. Maybe now is the right time. But then it’s bedtime and as you cuddle your boy to sleep (yes I STILL do this) you worry about him missing out on cuddles and attention while you’re devoting all of your time to his new brother or sister. You don’t want this special bond to be broken.

It’s a tough decision. Will I be able to cope with two? What if the curly-haired monster is jealous? Is it possible to love another as much as I love the curly-haired monster? What if the new one doesn’t sleep? I don’t want to give up cuddling my boy to sleep so what do I do? Learning to breastfeed again, ugh. No more sleep. Letting my body be hijacked for two years. Oh God imagine how much crap will be left all over the house with TWO kids! We need a bigger car. I want a bigger house. I’ll have to stop working and stay at home for at least six months. OMG no more poached eggs. My boobs are going to look even worse. How do I go food shopping? Scrap that – how do I leave the house? What if I forget what to do? What if I have to stop running? What if my employer decides to make my job redundant? What if I fail? The list inside my head goes on and on and on.

However on the other hand, another itty bitty to kiss, cuddle and make us a family of four would be pretty damn awesome.

Maybe it’s not such a tough decision after all.

How did you decide to have more than one child? What’s your advice on coping with more than one?

 

 

 

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#firstworldproblems

This week I have been having a fair bit of self-doubt across many aspects of my life and I really need to give myself a big kick up the arse about it.
Self-doubt at being a mother, self-doubt at work, self-doubt at organising the wedding to the high standard I’ve set myself and doubting that I’ll be able to run a marathon in two months time.
I’ve been sick all week and have been house-bound pretty much the entire time which means I have only ran once and that does not help my overactive mind one bit. Far too much time to over-think.
The Curly-Haired Monster is also sick which is where the self doubt as a mother comes into play.
Being winter he often has the sniffles and more so when he is teething so I wasn’t overly concerned when he had a runny nose early in the week. He also had a slight cough but nothing to be concerned about – I’m not one to rush him to the doctor over every snotty nose and little cough.
He had a bit of a weepy eye too on Monday but it appeared to clear up.
Anyway he had been a bit hard to handle this week – a fair bit of tantrum throwing and waking constantly at night. The Boy and I were getting pretty frustrated and put it down to teething and just a phase.
I dropped him off at day care on Wednesday only to be called later in the day to be told he might have conjunctivitis. His eyes started to weep mid-morning. I immediately made a doctor’s appointment and picked him up.
Fast-forward and he was diagnosed with an ear infection in both ears, conjunctivitis and very, very mild bronchitis. Oh. My. God. Worst. Mother. On. Earth.
The poor kid was in immense pain and The Boy and I were annoyed because we weren’t getting any sleep.
We both felt so bad and I started questioning my ability to be a mother. I kept thinking a good mother would have taken him to the doctor straight away, a good mother wouldn’t get frustrated, a good mother has the patience of a saint.
I was doubting myself so much I even thought at one stage I shouldn’t have had a baby – I’m useless, too selfish and suck at this parenting gig I thought to myself.
Ugh. Shut up brain.
I took a day off work also this week because I was feeling so ill which inevitably put me way behind. I got to work yesterday and had so many emails requesting help, not to mention a list as long as my arm of stuff to get through.
Also my workmate is on leave so I was already doing the work of two people crammed into three days – now make that two days.
If there’s one thing I hate doing it’s asking for help. I hate it – I don’t want to be seen as weak or incapable. Long story short I had to ask for help yesterday to get through my workload. Ugh cue self-doubt at my competency to handle a heavy workload.
The wedding. It is literally keeping me up at night. I can’t sleep because I’m stressed it won’t all come together.
I’m stressed because I am doing everything on my own. I’m stressed because The Boy just doesn’t get how much stuff is involved.
He has not once taken it upon himself to organise anything and if I delegate a task it’s “forgotten” about or left to the last minute so I end up doing it myself.
He offers to help but I know he doesn’t really want to. I know he is going to so angry at me for typing the above.
I am a control freak. He knows this, I know this.
My bridesmaids offer to help but I feel bad asking them to.
Ugh I just want it all to be semi-perfect. There’s so much to do and it’s only three months away.
Prior to the wedding I am going to run my first full marathon. That’s the plan anyway.
This week my training had been a massive fail. It’s not my fault – I can’t breathe properly and I feel awful.
I’m better off resting but now I’m thinking what if I don’t get enough long runs in, what if I hit a wall and can’t go on, what if I don’t finish, what if my hip gives me too much grief and I have to pull out. What if I go out too fast and end up crying/walking the last 10km.
Ugh shut up brain.
To non-running folk this is going to sound ridiculous but I know if I could just get outside and go for a run all of this self doubt would evaporate and I’d be rearing to go again.
I’m aware how very first-world problems this all sounds but I’m not even viewing them as problems I’m just going to accept I’m feeling very overwhelmed this week.
In a nutshell – shit happens and life goes on. *Arse kicked*
Lets do this!

Confessions of a tired mum

We are exceptionally lucky in our house because 95 per cent of the time the Curly-Haired Monster sleeps through the night and he has done for about the past six months.

However there is the odd occasion when he likes to keep us on our toes and will wake up every two hours for three nights in a row – which is what happened this week.

It happens every few weeks and it is absolute shit when it happens especially as I am now working three days a week and the Boy gets up at 3.45am. So. Damn. Tired.

But I digress because it is not the point of this post and we have it pretty easy compared to a lot of families out there who haven’t known a full night’s sleep in months/years.

The reason this only went on for three nights was because on the fourth I had reached the end of my tether. I was well and truly over it.

He went down for a couple of hours, woke up and refused to go back to sleep. We tried everything. I even chucked him in bed with us which is always a last resort – who knew something so small could take up so much damn room!

It was late, I was tired, he was crying, the Boy was tired and getting annoyed too so I made the decision to let him ‘cry it out’ in his cot.

Ten-fifteen minutes later he was fast asleep and slept through the night and has done ever since.

It’s  not the first time either and it certainly won’t be the last.

There’s been times when I’ve even shut the door so I can’t hear him just so I can get five minutes of peace so I can collect my thoughts, calm down and then be a better parent rather than a frazzled lunatic.

Before I returned to work there would be days where I’d be hanging out for the Boy to get home so I could hand the Curly-Haired Monster over, lace up my runners and pound the pavement for an hour before I seriously lost my mind.

Why am I telling this boring story? Because it’s the truth. Because sometimes it gets too much and all you want to do is get some sleep or some much needed time for yourself.

Sometimes the crying and relentless whingeing is like a hammer to your brain  and you’d do anything for just five minutes of quiet and hot cup of tea.

It doesn’t mean you are a bad parent or that you love your child any less. EVERY parent has these moments/days and anyone who says they haven’t is a goddamn liar.

Recently on Facebook a local woman who runs a parenting-support group – with a huge lean toward attachment parenting – linked ‘crying it out in order to get a good night’s sleep’ to children growing up to be murderers or more likely to commit assaults. I wish I was joking. As you can imagine some  mothers were outraged whereas others agreed with her.

It’s this sort of bullshit which ends up causing parents to self-doubt their own methods and feel they might be doing something wrong and/or going to raise bad children. Enough with the mummy wars. Seriously enough.

Parenting is hard. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. What works for one family may not work for another and vice versa. I don’t follow anyone’s advice in fact I haven’t for months and I don’t ask for it either because if it’s one thing I’ve learned is everyone thinks they are a goddamn expert.

These ‘experts’ are what f*ck up the new parent’s confidence.

While we’ve only let the Curly-Haired Monster cry it out a handful of times – oh did I mention we tried the Ferber method for awhile too (now I’m defintely going to be cast to the fiery pits of hell) – I’m a huge believer in doing whatever works for you and your family. No one should ever make parents feel guilty or question their parenting methods. Ever. (Unless the baby/child is being put in harm’s way of course)

Don’t self-doubt – go with your gut and if it means leaving your little one to scream for a bit or if it means sleeping side by side in bed each night then so be it. Who am I to judge.

 

 

 

Guess who’s back?

Okay so I have decided to jump aboard the ole blogging train again. I’ve been doing a fair bit of reporting at work again and realised just how much I missed writing. I also realised just how rusty and out of practise I am and you know what they say practise makes perfect 🙂

So here it is the dawning of a new era. Newsroom to Nursery is back!

This year has been so crazy and is only going to get crazier. So far this year I have returned to work three days a week and trained for and finished a half-marathon. I have also been busy planning The Boy and mine’s wedding which will be in October, not to mention being a mother, maintaining the home and enjoying an active social life. Just to make things even crazier I am now training for my first-ever full marathon which is in September. Yep that’s 42.195km craaaaaazy!

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Luckily I thrive on being busy and a little stressed. I think having something to strive for at all times is important in maintaining sanity and focus in life especially now that I am a mother.

Flashback to when I was pregnant and I remember being petrified I’d lose my sense of self – I can confidently say this has not happened. If anything since becoming a mother I have a higher sense of self and I have become more aware of who I am. Mums out there who are feeling lost and consumed by motherhood – I implore you all to take some time out for yourself, find something you love doing and just do it! My life-saver has been running but I will leave that for another post entirely.

The Baby – who from now on will be referred to as the Curly-Haired Monster – turned one two weeks ago. ONE WHOLE YEAR. I can’t believe how fast those twelve months have flown by.

The Boy and I threw a party for him – a Pirate Party to be precise – and we had about forty friends and family over for the momentous occasion.

Instead of having the usual day-time kids’ party we kicked things off about 3pm and didn’t finish up until 2.30am. The Curly-Haired Monster was in bed by 8pm but then it was time for mummy and daddy to celebrate – we survived our first year as parents yippee!

Needless to say we were pretty knackered the next day especially with a 5.30am wake-up call from the mini-human.

The party was so different to the usual shindigs The Boy and I are used to throwing – there were kids everywhere. Admittedly I was quite overwhelmed to begin with but after a few wines I felt much better.

He was very spoilt with not just love but a ton of gifts. The Boy and I have kept toy-buying to an absolute minimum as we would rather spend our cash on experiences – like holidaying  – not plastic which will end up in landfill however now our living area is covered in the Curly-Haired Monster’s things. While he loves all of his amazing new things his favourite activity is pulling the rubbish out of the kitchen recycle bin or emptying the Tupperware cupboard and pantry.

We also refrain from giving him any sugar or junk food because after all he is only one! However he was very lucky to have not one but three birthday cakes. The Boy constructed a pirate-ship cake for his actual birthday which we let the Curly-Haired Monster smash – he loved every second of it – and then he built a bigger version for the party. I also baked – packet mix because I fail at baking from scratch – red-velvet cupcakes which were personalised with his name, age and pirate hat. All cakes were a massive hit. I think everyone had a good time – but most importantly the birthday boy did.

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*sigh* I still can’t believe he is one – he will be moving out before I know it …

 

Revelations

Last night was a nightmare – The Baby decided to play from 12.50am until sunrise. Pass the coffee please! Which reminded me of a time when The Boy and I used to love staying up all night now I would sell my right kidney to get a solid night’s sleep and miss the sunrise.

Despite having less than two-hours sleep I went for a 10km run earlier because sometimes no matter how tired you are you just need some time for yourself. However I got home, had a shower, got back in my pjs and am now in bed as The Baby is FINALLY asleep.

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever know what it’s like to not feel exhausted.

These days there are two things I am constantly chasing and wondering if they do in fact exist – eight no even just six hours of unbroken sleep and being able to drink a cup of tea or coffee in peace.

I love The Baby and love being a mum but holy hell some days just suck, lucky he’s so damn adorable.

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