MUMMY FAILURES UNITE!

For those of you that know me, you probably know I am SO not afraid to express my opinions in real life, but mainly on topics I know a lot about. So maybe if I was writing about advertising or marketing I would be out on a limb every day (stay tuned), but instead I mostly write about motherhood. As a fairly new Mum myself and with no formal parenting training I am very careful not to put myself forward as any type of expert in that area. Like most Mummy bloggers, I am bumbling through the most challenging experience of my life and all I can hope is that what I write shows empathy to other parents who were equally shocked by the challenges of parenthood.

So I was pretty surprised at the reaction of some women to a piece I wrote that was published on Mamamia last Tuesday. The article was my personal feelings surrounding sending my eldest to daycare. I intentionally put an alternative view forward simply because it occurred to me that maybe a bit of daycare would have done me good when I was younger, never dreaming this would be misconstrued as attacking stay-at-home Mums. Nor that it would incite nearly 500 comments.

One comment from a non-Mum created a very valid furore:
"Sorry, but what’s the point of having kids if you’re just going to ship them off somewhere? Yeah, I know, ppl need to work blah blah but if you can’t afford kids then don’t have them. Personally when I have kids, I’m going to look after them 24/7, I won’t have kids and palm them off willy nilly." 

Another Mum was in a fury:
“I do find this article infuriating. Is it not possible to simply outline all the positives you see about your own personal choice of parenting without having to resort to attacking any other choice that’s different to yours?...Please don’t assume that my daughter was sheltered and protected at home by a doting, grumpy mother…”

Another stated I was condescending and a bully to stay-at-home Mums. (I am not, for the record.) 

Another was a little more realistic and extremely funny:
"I am a SAHM. I would dearly LOVE to place (dump, bung, fling, fire out of a cannon) my children into daycare for a day or two a week. Can’t afford it. Sigh. It’s been 7 years at home and we’re all sick of looking at each other. I would love a chance to miss my children." 

And there were many gems of wisdom such as this one:
"The way I see it, it takes a village to raise a child, not a mum and dad in isolation, which is often the case now, we live so far from extended family." 

Needless to say my personal quandary caused a little bit of 'discussion' probably because modern parenting is so personal, contentious and varied. I am glad we have choices, however hard they may be, where our own Mothers did not. I think we will always have regrets, I already feel that it probably would have been better if my eldest went to kindy at 16 months instead of 9 months but my work situation did not allow for this (I was pregnant with my second and had to return for 6 months before going on maternity leave again). Then again as one wise commenter on Mamamia said, you can never tell what would have had better outcomes because you can’t run concurrent existences for your children to see if they would have faired better taking a different path.

One thing occurred to me though as I read all the comments, Lana Hirschowitz, the editor of Mamamia and Mia Freedman have the best jobs in the world if this is what they see most days. That is, passionate women who adore their children and truly want the best for them, which was the theme through most of the comments. Also the vast majority were empathetic, understanding and kind in their support for Mothers who face tough decisions involving the loves of our lives. We’ve all been there and the support between us is so crucial. Children used to be brought up by a community and although so many of us are isolated geographically, online can be that community at least for insanity-prevention if not for providing the break all Mums need now and then. 

For those that were judgemental, harsh and self-righteous well they can stay by themselves in their perfect worlds and have this video to keep them company. 

So go have a read and see what about 400 Mums feel about daycare – it is fascinating and mostly really heartwarming and encouraging. 

The video above is a part of a very funny series of videos, created by Valerie Stone Hawthorne you can watch more on YouTube or visit her blog 

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Motherhood Unearthed

As I write nearly three billion Google searches have happened, 98 million tweets posted and 210 billion emails sent and that’s just today. We are living in an age of information, it is everywhere and for most it is easily accessible, that is, until we reach the topic of childbirth.

Traditionally mystery has shrouded this rite of passage, so to speak, but in a time when we are exposed to the sex videos of try-hard celebrities, gruesome crime photos or graphic footage of surgeries, surely the details surrounding childbirth are mild in comparison?

I have given birth twice and I went to the antenatal classes the first time, I watched the video of the screaming woman, but I still had no idea of what I was in store for. I knew there would be pain, I knew my options for drugs or not and I had been told by lots of well-meaning mothers “make sure you get lots of sleep before the baby comes.” That was about it.

Now is when I could choose to fill the gap with some gory details to help prepare any blissfully, waddling first-timers, but a couple of things have given me pause.

Firstly when I asked newly pregnant twitter friend Emily Jade O'Keefe what advice she’d like, she said ‘Only share the good please, I’ll find out the bad’. Secondly pre-baby I vaguely recall hearing some advice but it seemed to go in one ear and out the other. It made me wonder is childbirth and being a new Mum inexplicable to footloose, childfree women?

But what finally sealed the sealed section on childbirth for me was the fact that women are classic worriers, pregnant women are on the anxiety-ridden, hormone roller coaster and new mothers are often near to being committed. So if we were to share the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me drugs, would it help or just send them over the edge?

So I’m not going to explain to you what an ice-filled condom is for, or what happens to your empty belly soon after giving birth, my friend is right – you’ll find that out soon enough.

But there is one thing I wish I’d known: that my life would be turned inside out and upside down and that during the tumultuous and emotional change you have to be kind to yourself. Becoming a mother is one of life’s biggest changes. You’ve probably heard this one by Raphael-Leff (1994) from me before but I love it, they say new Mums are “plunged into a state of inner disequilibrium and external upheaval quite unlike any other encountered in adult life”.

I made the mistake of expecting that I would be an automatic natural earth mother, because understanding and knowing how to rear a child was in both my X chromosomes, wasn’t it? The previous generation didn’t really help as even more was expected in their day, difference being they were often already managing the home so adding children to the mix was tough but not as life-changing. Going from corporate meetings and making decisions on million dollar campaigns up to 60 hours a week to being housebound, while providing food from the stove and my body, and all within a clean environment was like expecting my husband to converse with me during a football match.

The remarkable thing is how remarkable humans are. You adapt and you change and you see the world in a whole new light, one that is broader, deeper and very rewarding. So if nobody has really explained the details of childbirth or been able to articulate what you’ll feel when you first arrive home with a gurgling, wholly dependent, little poo-and-spew ball, then don’t worry – just remember as you get shoved into the deep end of this particularly choppy sea, be kind, be understanding and give yourself a lot of leeway to be as mental as is fitting to one of the biggest challenges you’ll ever face.

P.S. And before the birth cook as many meals as your freezer can store while having your favourite takeaways on fast dial, the last place you want to be is near an open flame on 3 hours sleep.

Inspired by the heavily pregnant Emily Jade O'Keefe, Motherhood Unearthed first appeared on KleenexMums and later on Emily's blog Emily Everywhere

©MyIdeaLife, 2011, All rights reserved

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Make it go away Mummy

This past week has been surreal, in fact if I think about it this past year has. Something changed though last Wednesday when my son was diagnosed with pneumonia. I can’t yet put my finger on it but I suppose this post is a way to help me do that.

I feel a bit broken to be totally honest, just watching this little human that just happens to be the centre of my universe, cry out in agony while I know there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it or fix it, is soul destroying. And watching his eyes, that have seen only two years of this world, staring at me, questioning why they are in pain. It is the closest thing to hell on earth.

I can’t imagine what parents who have kids that are seriously ill have to go through, if this is what it feels like when your child has something that modern medicine can fix. I think it’s the helplessness that's the killer. I want to run out and study medicine, but I know that wouldn’t solve everything and would probably reveal how little we actually do know. Basically I need to be Samantha Stevens, when the pain hits I just wiggle my nose.

Witches aside for a moment, this got me thinking about resilience. Our children are going to face pain, and lots of it, and most of the time all we will be able to do is sit by and provide comfort and support. So how does one prepare to be useless in the face of your children’s biggest crises? How do you stop shutting down inside to cope with our own pain at having to watch our angels get attacked and have to fight for themselves?

Unfortunately I have no idea, lately if I don’t run around keeping busy, staying numb, I basically want to scream, “Why does he keep getting sick? Is it my fault? What can I do differently? Surely there is something that can be done?” Our doctors have answered these questions for me and they go something like “He’s in the normal spectrum of illness frequency for his age, it is not your fault, if he didn’t get these infections now he would get them at school, no his diet is good, he’s active and you are using probiotics and supplements and washing his hands, no there’s nothing more than antibiotics if it’s bacterial, immunisation against some real nasties but mostly it’s viral and he will just get over it in 7-10 days, summer is better”. This doesn’t stop my incredulous reaction when after maximum of two weeks good health another feral virus mows my boy down. It also doesn’t stop me blaming myself for pretty much the whole sorry situation.

All I know is I am tired and sad and feeling incredibly sorry for him and myself. I want to take the pain away, I want to wrap him in my arms and shield him from this torturous world. He, of course, is managing having one of the most serious respiratory conditions around like a champion, and other than needing a little more sleep and cuddles, is being his normal cheeky and charming little self.

If only I could be so brave and strong…but maybe screaming when you feel helpless is the best reaction. Aurora, Emma’s mother in Terms of Endearment is her and my hero, and she’s screaming, as is perfectly appropriate when you are watching someone you love more than life itself work through pain.

So if you don’t see me here as often, it’s cause I’m off somewhere helplessly screaming loudly or more often, quietly on the inside.

How do you handle it (or not) when your child is in pain?

©MyIdeaLife, 2011, All rights reserved.

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Go away Mummy

Have flown back into the asylum that is motherhood and after two days basking in the sunlight, that is leg movement free of a cruising infant, I am surprised at how ecstatic I am to be here.

I loved my time away, no I don’t think you understand I LOVED it. I had a bath, I had not one but multiple conversations that were not punctuated with “Careful sweetie, no, stop…stop. BANG! stop hitting him on the head...” and I even got to have a dance that didn’t involve the Wiggles.

In short I got a healthy reminder of who I am as a human. Not a mother, not a wife, just a valuable individual and surprise, surprise, it made me happy! And I’m still happy, despite being exhausted and ever so slightly hung over.

My normal state is borderline miserable with bonus mental health days thrown in to keep the local psychologist busy. And despite her specifically telling me to take time for myself, basically to maintain my sanity, the two hours here and there I was getting only served to frustrate me. A shower, a tidy up, a cup of tea, and just when you've finished checking your email and drafted the first line of the blog post that will change the world, the time would abruptly end with “waaaahhhhh” (and yes the baby would be crying as well). 

Having now been given* around 53 hours in a row to myself I feel like a sumo wrestler has been lifted off my shoulders. I actually wanted to spend time with my children today, and my husband got a look in as well [very rare!]. All the while I didn’t nag, or criticise or lash out, I even did chores without a second thought. I was the me that I’d forgotten existed, the me I dreamed about being. Who knew that it was just sitting there, raring to crack a smile as soon as I got a break?

I’ve heard the saying ‘Happy wife, happy life’, I’ve listened to the wise words of so many saying “the best thing for children is a Happy Mummy”, and I’ve lamented my own elusive happiness while berating myself for not being able to just be happy and get on with it.

All I can say is if 2 days can generate this amount of joy in one grumpy mummy, go away, leave the kids with your partner, your parents, a nanny, the dog, whoever but just give yourself a break. I can’t recommend it enough. Don’t talk yourself out of it with fear or martyr complexes; go away. You deserve it, you need it and your family will thank you for it. 

 

I just hope my 2 year old doesn’t start pushing me out the door when he’s had enough,
“Go away Mummy. Go away. And come back happy” 

*Honorable mention has to go to my desperate to be living with a happy person generous husband
who pushed me to take a break, and as a result lost a weekend himself, thank you xxx

©My IdeaLife, 2011, All rights reserved 

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Lost in space?

Last night I had a conversation with my husband prompted by a day that can only be described as a long series of neurotic panic attacks. I had this ache in my stomach all day, and I felt as if every feeling I was having was scratched into my forehead. Of course there was no blood-dripping words appearing stigmata-like to the outside world, just the powerful mind sending a few signals awry and rendering me more than a little emotional.  

So from one grown up, apparently, to another I said: “I think I should just get.some.drugs.”
Hubby: Really? you think that would make a difference?
Me: Only if I take them with...I don't know, cooking sherry
H: That’d work. Except...you don’t cook
M: Well how can I cook when I'm oozing emotions like this, surely they'll infect the food with sadness like that girl in 'Like water for chocolate'

H: Like water for what?

M: Anyway I plan to be hovering somewhere above another planet that only works in slow motion and where everyone’s voice is two octaves lower than normal
H: what has a deep slow voice got to do with dinner?
M: Who cares about dinner when I’m going to transform into that space girl that seduces Dr. Smith in Lost in Space, you know the green one that seems permanently turned on?
H: well me for one, wait did you say 'turned on'...'permanently'? 

M: No, you must have misunderstood... 

So it was decided mainlining meds with whatever spirit I had in the cupboard was going to solve all my issues. I was going to be happy at last, all green and orgasmic. Yippee!

There was no medication involved here...none at all...

But until the correct drugs were obtained from a ‘medical practitioner’ I had to walk around oozing mush and goo and tears – it was ugly and then I had a shower; no, that was not the solution; but afterwards I looked in the mirror (for the first time in 24 hours obviously) and the answer was right in front of me, actually it was right on me blinking a warning signal from below my lip "Danger! Danger! Nicole is going to be mental today".

Humongous pus volcano fully explains near nervous breakdown

Call off the dogs (or at least the men in white suits with really large syringes)! this little discovery explained everything. I had PMS. Pre-Menstrual Stress. What a freaking euphemism it should be called Pre-menstrual ‘I’m-Going-to-Turn-Into-Someone-Best-In-an-Asylum-For-A-Day-Or-Two’, PMIGTISBIAFADOT for short. Pre-pregnancy or breastfeeding, that would be like three years ago, I always used to get a gigantic pimple a few days before my period. It was as certain as my hubby flicking to sports channels during the ad breaks of Glee, and it's regular occurrence made me feel, well, regular. Now with my trainer bra boobs these monthly blemishes are going to make me feel like the quintessential teenage 'dream'.

With sanity looming and the prospect of re-living my youth, I started mopping up my weeping wounds and got happy until I'm not again, probably in about a month...or maybe tomorrow...
 

What causes your mental health days?

© MyIdeaLife, 2011, All rights reserved. Athena remains the property of 'Lost in Space', unfortunately.

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Mummy #FAIL

The baby chokes
So Crash*, my 8 month old just choked on some bread crust that I shouldn’t have let him have and so as to save his own life he spewed all over himself, me and the floor. Now any normal person would put this incident down to experience and move on, doubtless not trying it again until the little chap could chew. Me well today I wasn’t normal.

Boom~ warned me not to give Crash the bread and I shrugged off his caution. He gave me that annoying look, you know the one your mother always gave you when you were a teenager. His face quite clearly stated, “you’ll see” as if he was this wise old man.

I secretly was a little worried when half the crust disappeared into Crash’s mouth and I tried to extract the offending piece with no luck and so the almighty spew. Boom came rushing in and kindly didn’t say ‘I told you so’ and took Crash away to clean him up as I mopped up the floors and myself.

Cloaked in chores
Dejected I raced to the laundry in search of chores to hide my shame in and found a load of washing that should have gone out an hour ago, yay! (You won’t see that very often, that is, me getting excited about washing). So off to the yard I go to dwell on my failure. I was in a deep tailspin and bracing myself for the lecture I was going to get from my “perfect” husband.

Empathy and husband in the same sentence – it’s a miracle!
But there was no lecture and then a rare moment of empathy that I was so grateful for I ended up crying while pegging up his undies. He even took some of the blame – this was mercy indeed and I knew I didn’t deserve it. Then I realized something that rarely occurs to me – maybe, just maybe, my husband really loves me????

You see my abnormality this particular day was being too hard on myself. If my hubby could forgive me, surely so could I? So I stopped and thought through why I was judging myself and I realized it was wrapped up in the pressure placed on women still to be these perfect earth mother, domestic goddess-types.

If cleanliness is next to godliness, I’m clearly destined for an eternity of flames
That’s not me, especially the domestic goddess part. To be fair being pregnant and/or breastfeeding for the last two-and-a-half years has probably exacerbated my sub-standard approach to home management, but as my Mum will tell you I’ve never been a fan.

It’s ok!
But tonight I’m done with feeling guilty for just being imperfect me. From now on my new favourite phrase is going to be: “It’s ok!” It’s ok if Bang^ wants to wear his Thomas winter PJs under his Bob the Builder summer ones and not his designer outfit to Mother’s Group. It’s ok if I don’t feel like seeing the dirt on the floor and let Crash crawl through it. It’s ok if I’d rather spend an hour on Twitter than doing something “productive”, why do we always have to be so productive? We’re not friggin’ factories! Who was it that decided incessant activity was the stuff of halos anyway?

WORLD FIRST: Mother decides not to feel guilty - is promptly ousted from village.
I’m going to relax in my failings, I’m going to rejoice in my hatred of cleaning, maybe I’ll even have a drink too many and do some swearing to add to my transgressions, but I’m going to give myself a break, I’m going to forgive myself for almost choking my baby, I’m going to let myself off lightly for not having any inclination to re-arrange the pantry, I’m going to sit here and write because that’s what makes me feel whole. I’m a bit of a #FAIL as a housewife, home economist, whatever label you want to place on it and you know what – It’s ok because I like being an un-domestic goddess (even if it means a little shaming in the village square).

P.S. This is not an overly elaborate way of saying it’s cool to be lazy either…no seriously, it’s not!
^Bang=my 2yr old. *Crash=my 9mth old. ~Boom=my 3.5 35yr old hubby
© 2011 My IdeaLife, All rights reserved

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More sleep=less madness

It's amazing what a difference some sleep makes! So many mothers who have been there and done the two kids hellishly close together have kept telling me 'there is light at the end of the tunnel'. Well I think I am catching a glimpse of said light - hurrah! 

My sleep deprivation deprived me of so much more than sleep. Namely the ability to see anything clearly or logically, especially the new little human being growing up so quickly in front of me. In any case I felt obliged to write again so that all those poor women expecting their second won't curl up in a ball and start rocking after reading my first post. 

To you I say it has it's ups and downs and you may get a bub that happily sleeps from 11pm to 6am from 5wks like some in my mum's group have. Basically it is not as bad as I've made it sound - for some it is better, for some worse. Whatever your situation it is always more manageable on 5-6hrs sleep.

So lately my resentment has just faded and is being replaced by as strong a love as I have for my eldest. I can now see the positive side of all those negatives, even my husband made me laugh yesterday (!!!)  So all is well with the world again...until the next sleep-deprived night and subsequent brain snap hits. (Suddenly that scene in 'Parenthood' about the roller coaster makes sense).

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