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?

 

 

 

It’s all happening

Oh hai there abandoned blog .. I finally have something to post about – yippee!

In four sleeps I make my return to the newsdesk after almost 12 months of maternity leave. I am excited, nervous and apprehensive. Not to mention there is a tad bit of guilt creeping in for good measure. I will be working two days for six months before returning for either three days or full-time depending on how I feel.

My fabulous mother will be watching The Baby for one day and the other day he will be going to day care.

I am looking forward to working again, I really am. Some people work because they have to while others work because they want to. I fit into the latter category. I can’t wait to immerse myself into the news again and get my brain cranking – although it might take a couple of weeks for that to happen!

Since I have been on leave my office has had a dramatic makeover so I can’t wait to sit at my new desk with my new equipment. I also have a team now – whereas before it was just me so that is also something I look forward to.

Being surrounded by adults and having proper conversation which does not revolve around parenting and babies is also going to be a breath of fresh air. Dressing for the office and not for comfort and practicality is something I oddly long for. As are takeaway coffees, long lunches and office gossip with the other journos.

However at the same time I wonder how on earth will I be able to get The Baby ready, get myself ready and have the house looking presentable all by 7.30am. Will he notice I am gone and resent me? Or will he barely bat an eyelid and love spending time with his Nanny and make new baby friends at day care? I am fairly confident it will be the latter as he is a very social little boy and loves people especially mini-humans.

Will I still go running after work? I am currently in training for my first-ever half-marathon (28 days to go – eek!) and I cannot miss any self-imposed training sessions. I know I will want to go but will I feel guilty about leaving The Baby for an extra hour on top of the nine I have already left him for?

How will we eat dinner before midnight on my two working days? I am thinking slow-cooker at this stage or meal prep. Or convince The Boy it is his job as he finishes work a few hours before me.

Do I let The Baby eat day-care food or prepare food for him to bring? What if he gets sick – he has yet to get sick (touch wood). How will I work productively if we have had a shocking night before and have had barely any sleep?

I also fear the house will end up looking like a crack den because I would not have had time to clean during the day. Sometimes I wish I was one of those people who can handle a bit of mess but I can’t it gives me anxiety. When I go back full-time I am seriously considering a cleaning lady come through once per week. The last thing I want to be doing on weekends is cleaning – ain’t nobody got time for that!

Do I have a tendency to over-think things? YES!

Ugh I am sure everything will be fine and I am just being over-dramatic. Just typing this all out has made me feel better about the whole situation.

The Baby is nine months old tomorrow. NINE MONTHS. Which means in three months he will be one. OMG. Yes I am already planning his party in my head.

He is an itty-bitty thing – so itty bitty he wasn’t even on the chart for his weight at his eight-month check up and was in the bottom-half percentile for height. Small things come in good packages, just look at his mum 😉

He has four teeth and is crawling. This week he started climbing and standing while holding onto things. We bought him a walker despite vowing never to and he doesn’t like it thankfully as he prefers to explore on all fours. So now we are selling the walker.

He is very chatty and almost always happy. I don’t want to jinx it but he sleeps through the night too. Sometimes he doesn’t but more often than not he does.

Like his mum he loves his food and enjoys feeding himself. I call him my curly-haired monster because also like his mum (when I was a baby) he has super curly hair.

It’s hard to tell who he looks like the most. He is a good mixture of the two of us I think. He has inherited our love for music and socialising which is good to see. He is also very independent and is happy to entertain himself.

One thing which has happened just this week and has saddened me is he no longer wants the boob. I wanted to breastfeed for at least a year however he has decided otherwise. I still persevere but he is not into it and prefers to bite me and it bloody hurts. I am determined to keep trying but I think we (more like me) will have to move on soon. He does look ridiculously cute feeding himself his bottle though.

It amazes me how fast the past nine months have flown by and I can’t wait to see what the next nine months bring.

If any working mums have any advice for me shoot away!

About babies … and other stuff

Baby Predator's latest wardrobe addition.

It’s been a tough week.

Therefore I’m not really feeling inspired to post. But alas I can’t leave my legions of readers (all five of you) hanging can I?!

My friend The Wry Bride suggested I blog about babies. At first I scoffed ‘thanks Captain Obvious’ but then I thought hmm maybe she’s on to something. So this week’s post is about babies.

Admittedly I don’t know much about them. I know they are cute, squishy, warm, they cry, poop, eat, make gurgling noises, sleep lots, have the best giggle on the planet and are fun to dress up. Other than that I’m pretty much going to have to play it by ear once he/she makes its long-awaited arrival (19 weeks eek!)

Speaking of dressing up, this little baby already has a wardrobe to rival that of my own – Missoni anyone. Yes, today I bought baby Predator an all-in-one romper designed by the famed Italian fashion house. It’s to fit a one-month old. I’m predicting it will fit my bundle of joy for probably two weeks. In that two weeks I will be aiming to get as much wear out of it as I can. Even if I’m looking like hell, sleep-deprived with milk spit on my own clothes – this baby is going to be rocking designer duds, well for at least two weeks he/she will be.

I’ve been  noticing some strange things since becoming pregnant – for one I am turning into a sensitive old soul and I think I may be starting to develop what has always seemed so very foreign to me – a maternal instinct. *shock, horror*

Earlier this week I ran into an old school friend who just had a baby and I found myself staring right at it like a woman possessed. I also had this sudden urge to pick it up, rock it in my arms and cover it in kisses. This is not the first time this has happened. When I see babies these days I get this ridiculous wistful look on my face and think to myself ‘oh how precious’. Even those television advertisements for nappies and the such turn me to mush. What dear readers is happening to me?

I’ve always found babies cute but to be honest when a new mum would hand their newborn over for a cuddle – instant anxiety. What if I drop it? How do I hold it? What if it cries? Ugh can you have it back now?

I really hope this maternal instinct which everyone talks about does exist because it’s going to be pretty awkward otherwise. ‘Oh umm sorry nurse can you wait until I’m seated up right with at least 10 cushions surrounding me before you hand me my baby for the first time?’

Thankfully my fabulous partner who will only be known as The Boy has had a lot of practise with mini humans. He has three younger brothers and is very good with children. I am very blessed and also it seems suffering from the fabled ‘baby brain’ as this blog has gone off on all kinds of tangents. Alas it’s seems like an appropriate time to sign off.

Maternally yours, I-Promise-My-Next-Post-Will-Be-Better