Meela's Thing-o-Rama

The little things

Toddlers can be draining. They have such energy that it’s hard to keep up. They constantly need to be encouraged, marshaled, watched for signs of hunger and fatigue that can spell a tantrum.

Last Saturday, we imposed upon my sister to take Zoe for a night. Suddenly my head was full of things we could do. We only had a baby now, and babies are pretty compliant. There are so many things you can do with a baby, but not with a toddler.

We could go out! We could go to a restaurant or to a movie! We could stay in and have loooong relaxing baths! We could get all the housework done without fighting a tiny 2 foot knight titling with the broom. We could go to bed early. Or late.

I think I was a little overwhelmed by visions of toddler-freedom, because I even put a bottle of wine in the fridge. Ray doesn’t drink, and I’m breastfeeding Wil, so the wine wasn’t going anywhere.

Being a bit tired (the reason for requesting the break in the first place), here is what I actually did when Zoe wasn’t around…

lit a scented candle

placed iPad on the table, in full view of everyone….and left it there

populated the coffee table with glasses and mugs of hot tea and coffee

watched tv without the subtitles on (no Zoe exuberant yelling to drown out the dialogue)

walked in and out of doors without closing them behind us

cooked in the kitchen without the baby gate hindering every step

ate at an ‘unreasonable’ hour – I can’t even remember which hour it was exactly

left knives on the table. On the edge of the table

And, we joked about her little quirks and cutenesses, and generally missed her a lot.

There are little things that you can’t do with an exuberant, curious, boundary-pushing little person around. They can become the mark of slavery if you let them. Or a silly thing to celebrate sometimes.

Leave A Comment, Written on May 10th, 2012 , Me Tags: Parenting

A matter of conscience

Its World Vaccination Week.

One of the many diseases that we can vaccinate against is pertussis (aka whooping cough). In adults, it causes an annoying persistent cough. But for babies, it can be fatal. By the time you figure out that you’ve been coughing a bit more than usual and gone to the doctor, received the results of your bloodwork, you probably aren’t contagious any more. But by that time, you’ve been spreading pertussis for a couple of weeks.

No biggie, right? Wrong.

Newborn babies can’t be immunised until 6-8 weeks and full immunisation isn’t achieved until the 3rd shot, given at 6 months. As the mother of a newborn baby, it can be terrifying to take him out in public. Everyone loves to look at the baby. Everyone wants to touch the baby. Any of these people could be carrying pertussis.

The vaccine provides protection for about 10 years. Families of newborns are encouraged to update their vaccines, to provide protection for their babies. But there is no awareness in the wider community about getting updated shots. Kaliah’s mother says that the doctor initially didn’t recognise the symptoms of her pertussis, which she then passed on to Kaliah.

Unfortunately, there is a growing anti-vaccine movement that aims to undermine the standing that vaccines have in our community. Dana’s Story is a real world, concrete and very real example of what pertussis can do right here, today in Australia. Dana’s parents moved to the Northern Rivers because of the idyllic hippy lifestyle without realising that it had one of the lowest rates of childhood vaccination in Australia. They rightly say “Newborns are helpless and it takes just one breath to infect them”.

If you have any contact with babies, even if you just want to ogle them in the supermarket, you should update your pertussis protection. Its a matter of conscience – its so easy to spread pertussis. Its also so easy to prevent.

Comments Off, Written on April 18th, 2012 , Me Tags: vaccines, Vax

A new day…

… A new theme

I thought I would try a change, and this summery style is just the thing now we are heading into winter.

Speaking of winter, my attention is taken up wholly by Game of Thrones. Thank Gawd for being able to read books on iPad while breastfeeding at 2am! Can’t wait to watch the new series on tv!

In recent events, the lid to one of our 2 nappy buckets has gone missing. Quelle intrigue, right? Lordy lord, I hope it comes back soon.

Comments Off, Written on April 17th, 2012 , Me

Neighbors

Yet another reason sleep eludes me. Our new-ish neighbors like to have parties close to my bedroom. These parties seem to involve either drinking, or christian sing songs.

Sometimes it’s just tv. Loud tv. Once I woke up at 2am convinced someone had broken into my house to watch my tv with the volume waaaay up.

It’s just weird.

Comments Off, Written on April 16th, 2012 , Me Tags: sleep

Igglepiggle found a Tiddle

“Igglepiggle found a Tiddle” is seriously what is being said on the TV right now. Igglepiggle takes the Tiddle to visit Makka Pakka, who uses the Tiddle to wash his sponge… I shit you not. This is actual dialogue.

Being the mum of a toddler and a newborn, I have cause to use TV as an occasional distraction. Don’t get me wrong, the teev isn’t on 24/7, but there are definitely times it goes on while I have to tend to something urgent. And also, Playschool is fun to dance to.

I love ABC4Kids. Its brilliant. Loads of Australian content, educational content, stuff from Sesame St and BBC. I can usually trust it for 10 minutes of something entertaining and educational. However, there are some really weird themes running through some of these shows.

In the Night Garden
Igglepiggle, Upsydaisy, Makka pakka, the Pontipines, the Tombliboos… They make squeaky noises and repeat the same interactions about 70 times an episode, at different perspectives in different media (2D animation, 3D animation, guy-in-a-suit live action etc). The first time I ever turned on this show I heard “the Pontipines have lost their children, the Tombliboos has lost their toothbrushes”. I kid you not.

Claude
Claude is a polar bear who can’t think without his “thinking blanket”. What the hell!? Also, his dad drives an ice cream van. Because he’s a polar bear and therefore an expert in cold stuff.

Other shows
There is some show about a turtle who can’t go to a sleep over without his lost bedtime toy. He searches for it everywhere and gets increasingly anxious as it remains lost. There was one show about a pair of friends who can’t be separated for 24 hours. They bore their other mates by always talking about their absent BFF.

It seems like every other show has a main character with a anxiety disorder. Whole shows are devoted to characters who depend on calming talismans or who seem to spend crazy amounts of time in escapist fantasies. There is one girl who escapes the drudgery of being at her grandpa’s shoe shop all day by trying on other people’s shoes which take her on journeys. Am I the only one who wonders why she isn’t in school?

The teev verdict
So yes, teev is fun. Its a great distraction when Peppa Pig, Play School or Shawn the Sheep is on. But there are also some scary, mentally ill characters lurking on there. And since ABC4Kids is available all day till 6pm, it can be all too easy to leave it on all day in the background. Especially on those tired days following sleepless nights. As a parent, you gotta answer the call of the world outside and turn it off.

Comments Off, Written on April 16th, 2012 , Me Tags: Kids, TV

Things I have learned about breastfeeding

Since I have now embarked on a 2nd breastfeeding adventure, I wanted to spend a few moments to recap what I learned last time about breastfeeding (and formula feeding too).

In the beginning
In my experience, it takes several weeks of awful pain to get established. 5 to 6 with Z but only a couple with W. It frustrated me that nurses and websites and brochures would wax lyrical about feeding heights, pillows, positions, latching etc. In my experience, these were not half as important as sticking it out. A couple of midwives tried to correct my holding height up or down by a few millimeters, but in essence, it was (I believe) a distraction. I think you could easily get distracted by the minutiae and go completely crazy because YOU ARE DOING IT WRONG AND THAT IS WHY IT HURTS. No, you aren’t. It hurts because a tiny little milking machine has you by the sensitive bits and won’t let go.

Then one day it just effing works.

This time I will…
Start with nipple guards. Seriously the best thing ever invented, even though they sound like weird fetish stuff you should probably be ashamed of owning. This time I started out slow, and knowing what to expect probably helped a lot, but it still hurt. I think it takes some time for the baby to learn not to clamp down on the nipple, that you will still be there in 2 minutes.

Timing and duration
It probably does matter, but nobody will give you proper advice about it because they just don’t know. My doctor told me in a strident tone “no more than 8 minutes no more often than every 2 hours!” while the midwives told me “when she cries, and until she falls off!” Some pamphlets stressed boob on demand, and some instructed me to wait until I was sure the cry was related to hunger, not just wind, loneliness, ennui, or being miffed at missing Y&R.

Seriously people! I wish the advice-givers would get their stories straight. It is my firm belief that nobody really knows how much milk the baby gets or how often they need to feed. I don’t think you can tell the difference between baby cries, especially not at first. You just get used to what all the needs are, and guessing which one is doing up next.

This time I will…
Start with a reasonable schedule, and deviate from it in a reasonable way. I.e. feed every 4 hours and when I think the baby is hungry. I’m going to listen less to advice, and read fewer articles.

Expressing
I hated expressing and I wasn’t any good at it. At some point I lost my mind a bit and got into a big rut about stocking up on breast milk. Of course, I was usually heartbroken to find that Z would reject 4 out of 5 bottle feeds meaning both that I wasn’t able to go out alone or have a coffee or a wine AND that the liquid gold would be spoiled. That expressed milk is a harsh mistress. It took hours for me to make up single portions, but It can’t be reheated or re-offered once rejected.

This time I will…
Try expressing, but I will be ready to give it up early if it doesn’t work for me.

Formula feeding
Two weeks before I returned to work, Z was still rejecting bottles of breastmilk, and basically telling us to shove formula up our hoo hoos. She was less than polite about it, and didn’t actually say “hoo hoo”, if you get my drift. Expressing at work wasn’t going to be a viable solution for me, so getting her to drink formula was a very important and stressful part of going back to work.

This time I will…
Try to organize formula a little earlier, introduce it slowly and just build on the knowledge I gained trying to wean Z. Oh, and not feel like World’s Worst Mum(tm). Formula had some clear advantages … Like helping to regulate Z’s feeding schedule and helping her gain independence. Feeding as no longer coupled with breasty comfort, and once she could hold a bottle herself, it was a real revelation. The breast didn’t have to be the answer to every little hiccup and accident. We both gained from that.

Comments Off, Written on April 16th, 2012 , Me Tags: breastfeeding

The first rule of breeding

The first rule of having kids is people will give you stuff.

Oh yeah. You get drowned in gifts by relatives and friends who want to help you celebrate your treasured arrival. Some of the stuff is really great and useful. One of the best presents I got at my baby shower was a gift packet with wipes, shampoo and nappy rash cream. Things I had never even thought of buying, because I was pretty clueless about preparing for a baby. Looking at that packet of wipes, I actually thought “well that will last FOR-ever”. Ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha.

There were some gifts (and finds and freebies) that meant I didn’t get an opportunity to investigate and choose what I wanted. Our cot, stroller and change table were all finds, and for a while I was frustrated that I didn’t get to pick them. Oh princess.

Some of the gifts you get don’t seem useful until you get to that particular milestone. Soft toys, rattles and baby gyms aren’t even remotely useful until at least 3 to 4 months, and then they become everything. By 6 months, baby is sitting but maybe not crawling, so it’s vital to have a bag of varied toys to keep bubs amused at all times.

Lots of gifts reflect the values and attitudes of the giver, and I found they threw my prejudices into sharp relief. Dummies? I’m to going to give my baby a dummy! Disposable nappies? Oh no, I’m using cloth! In the end, Zoe wouldn’t accept a dummy (however hard we tried), but the nappies were a godsend. These gifts were not only very generous, but they were a way of learning about what other mothers did before me, and giving me opportunities to try out different strategies to cope with all the challenges of parenthood. It pays to be a little humble and not stick too closely to your preconceived ideas.

One wonderful friend passed on bags and bags of clothes from her 4 girls. Peering into the bag, I saw lots of pink. An ocean of pink. Oh, no. I was never going to be the kind of more who dressed her girl in all pink! Ha ha ha. It was actually great, unpacking all those fluffy pink things. After I got over myself, I rather liked dressing Zoe up in flouncy outfits. Fluffy pink jackets, rainbow short shorts, and frilly sleeves with bows on.

The second rule of breeding is you will give other people stuff.

When your kids outgrow their tiny little outfits, you can either stick them in a bag in the attic or pass them on. When Zoe outgrew her fluffy pink outfits, I washed and folded them because we’re planning another baby. But when Wil turned out to be a bouncing baby boy, I declined to garb him in 50 shades of pink flounces. So I could either hang on to all those cute outfits and maaaaybe we’d have another baby, and maaaaaybe that baby would be a girl. Harking back to the first rule of breeding, I’m confident that we will be the beneficiaries of other people’s generosity later down the line. And as some friends and relatives have little girls, I’ve decided to pass it on.

But it’s hard sorting through so many cute little pieces! It’s hard to let go of some of the nicer things, the gifts and especially the Very Nice Outfits(tm) that only got worn once or twice for special parties. It’s all an exercise in looking to the future, and not holding on to things that you can’t reasonably use now.

Aaaaaand its an exercise in sorting the gendered from the gender-neutral. Does it matter if the pair of khaki 0000 jeans have a spangly butterfly on the butt? There are some opportunities for compromise – if you keep a pair of pink stripey bonds leggings, you secretly promise to always team them with a butch jacket. I’m not entirely sure why it matters, but I can tell you that it does. One day the kids will be cross-dressing, but I don’t think I’ll be making those decisions for them.

Comments Off, Written on April 15th, 2012 , Me Tags: Kids

Time capsules

I finally brought down that box from on top of my wardrobe. The one full of crappy pieces of paper that I used to decorate my walls and narrate my life when I lived in not-so-trendy share houses. “Its full of rubbish”, I had told myself.

When I got it down, I did actually tear into it. I discarded sheets of paper. Posters that had been on every bedroom wall for a decade and a half. Silly things that meant nothing to me any longer. The picture of Demi Moore in drag with her breasts exposed – gone. The pirate princess – gone. The radical badges that I made in my 20s – gone.

And then came the cards. Handmade birthday cards from people I don’t see often these days, people from other times.

And then came the letters. Happy missives, hopeful missives, love letters and cheerfully chatty letters.

And the photographs. Snaps of silly days. Bad hair days, days best forgotten!

I almost threw it all away until I saw the photos of me and my family camping by the lake from when I was 2-ish. No, no, I have to save this.

I have to save the photos. I have to save the letters. I have to save the cards.

Damn you, time capsule. I was all set to declutter and rid myself of a pile of dusty junk, and you unleashed a torrent of memory upon me.

Sometimes I wish I could live the slick life offered in magazines – enhanced by possessions but uncluttered by sentiment. Phrases fly in from 60s music – Could I live like a rolling stone? Is it possible to roll so fast you out-pace all the ticky tacky that clings as you live life and cling to mementos?

On a positive note, I’ve salvaged some choice stickers for Zoe and some writing paper for myself.

Comments Off, Written on April 3rd, 2012 , Me

Unmediated Childbirth

I’m sure all bloggers get it. That second voice that narrates actions as they are occurring. The voice fills in the details, the verbs and adjectives that would make this moment come alive on the page. For me, for some time, it has felt somewhat false to indulge that voice too frequently. Compared to what it once was, my writing output has been dramatically low in recent years. Perhaps that is a reflection of my other interests (kids!) taking up my time or maybe it signals a dramatic shift in How I Live My Life(tm). Who knows?

My last post was about having finished up working for the time being. A week later I was in hospital nursing a brand new baby boy named Wil. A week later again, I am sitting up in bed after the midnight feed, snatching a couple of minutes to write this down and thinking about how that voice mediates experience.

I have been musing on the nature of mediation, of sharing and what we call social media. In one sense, other people are brought to life, brought together by the fountain of shared information, shared experience. In another sense, I wonder how much of it is real. How much do my favorite bloggers actually engage in being in their moment and how much is their inner voice narrating them through life? How much shit is made up because it sounds better than what actually occurred?

It’s no secret that over that last 2 years I’ve become involved in the world of social media mums. I’m a mum who’s on twitter and Facebook. I check the Internet as my first source of information and recommendations from other mums. I read blogs, and occasionally I write this one.

So having had a baby, the natural step for a social media mum would be to write my birth story, complete with high-contrast characters and dramatic special effects. I would share it here or on a mummy forum, like BellyBelly or BubHub and solicit approving cheers of “way to go mama!” from a bunch of other mums in sweat pants. Maybe it’s the image of randoms in their sweats that turns me off sharing?

As others have done before me, I could write a highly dramatic birth story, charged with conflict. They do always seem be be charged with conflict, don’t they? There is always an evil obstetrician twirling his silent-movie-villain mustache while he recites statistics. Sometimes a kindly doula who thinks she is Florence Nightingale but is actually more like a rhino on crack. Reading these stories, I get the sense of just how mediated they are. There is a screaming desperation for meaning and approval that comes across in most of them. I can just almost imagine the woman in labour making choices about what she does based on how it will read the next day. Almost.

But this wasn’t my experience. The story of Wil’s birth was one of the strangest things to happen to me. Ever. So real, and yet so completely unreal. Perhaps the lack of conflict makes the story seem flat. Perhaps his quiet temperament has me in quiet disbelief that I even have a baby now. Perhaps I am just low on drama. Even though I’d like to share, I’d like to record the event for posterity, I have no real need to narrate the events of that day. For now, I’m enjoying the memory of unmediated childbirth.

Comments Off, Written on March 11th, 2012 , Me Tags: Kids, Social media

Sleep?

Ah sleep, where have you gone?

I finished work on Friday. It was a fairly lovely last day with lots of socializing as is to be expected. Lots of nice wishes from friends and colleagues. A big bunch of flowers in pink, blue and purple (because not even I know if this bubba is a girl or a boy).

At around 3pm on the last day, my last hurdles were clear and I had chatted through a farewell tea, my body just slumped. I was exhausted. I was looking forward to a week of resting and sleeping in before baby arrives.

No such luck. I have been staying up at nights and springing out of bed at 5ams. In between I’ve been restless and uncomfortable. During the days, I seem to spend a large ration of my time lying like a walrus on the lounge, letting Zoe climb on me. I have attempted to have little rests, to go to bed early and sleep in late. One morning I did actually sleep until 8.30 am (after a little period of reading from about 5 to 6).

Oh sleep, where are you?

I am beginning to suspect that this is the condition of parenthood. Sleep, sleep, glorious uninterrupted sleep is but a wisp of memory. Perhaps it will return sometime after the teenage years. Maybe there is a period between the final ‘sleeping through the night’ milestone and the early starts on the school run.

At least this sleep disturbance has given us one wicked pleasure. Some nights, we’ve climbed into bed and stayed up playing Words With Friends until gasp 11pm! Oh the scandal.

Comments Off, Written on February 26th, 2012 , Me Tags: sleep

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