Inspiration

I found dooce yesterday. It was a breakthrough moment for me. I thought I was a bad mother. I thought I was THE baddest mother in the world. Children strange vocabulary does rub off. Note to self: BADDEST is not a word.

When my eldest was 5 weeks old, my husband and I moved back home with my parents. We were building a house, and rather than rent, we lived with my parents for a year. BAD MOVE. DO NOT EVER DO THIS! I never thought of my mother as a control freak, but after that year with her, I had the impression that I was the worst ever mother in the whole world. If there was a slight chill, I was told to put a jumper on my baby. If her nose was running (Maddy’s, not my mothers, YUCK) she’d wipe it before I had the chance. Same thing with bottle time, nappy time etc, etc, etc.

So after all this, I felt like the worst mother in the world. I obviously wasn’t in sync with my child. I didn’t love her enough to know when she was cold. Understand I was only 22 at the time. So I was still a bit of a baby myself, and sooooo insecure into the bargain.

But since then, I’ve taken control. Moved interstate to get away. From my mother. When she visits, I feel those doubts creep back. She tells my kids off for things I’m quite happy with them doing. I like to think I’m a pretty cool mum. If they want to stand on the lounge, I let it happen. No jumping, it’s only Ikea, and may collapse under strain, but standing is fine. I save my battles for little fingers touching power points, purposely weeing on older siblings best toys, instead of toilets and other serious matters.

VENT VENT VENT.

Anyway, back to the whole POINT of this post. I found dooce. Some people find god, I find dooce. I am not alone. I am not perfect, but I don’t HAVE to be. And neither do you.

I’ve just remembered….

I had a dream last night. I was sailing on a yacht on the ocean, with a man. I’d like to say it was my husband, but I really am not sure, and I was having some feelings you just don’t get after that first getting-to-know stage of a relationship. You know, those fireworks when all the guy has done is brushed your hand with his.

So maybe it’s a remembering of earlier days of our relationship. Whatever. So I’m sailing on this yacht with a faceless male personage. And a dolphin arches out of the water over the front of the ship, and impales itself on said faceless male personage’s head. And I wake up. WEIRD.

Parenting is SO easy

When I brought my first child home from the hospital, I was in a state of panic. I was excited, until we walked through the door. Then I was petrified. We were being left alone, with the tiny little thing. What to do it it cried? And the scariest part of all, how the HELL do you get it to breast feed?

I couldn’t get my little person to latch on. I’d spent 4 days in hospital on a breast pump, then bottle feeding, but now I was expected to get on with it by myself. Well, breastfeeding in our house lasted a whole 3 days outside of the hospital. It stopped the second I smothered my baby with my breast. Yes, I have big boobs. Jugs. Tits. Have a laugh. It’s funny now, but it sure wasn’t 8 years ago.

I was sitting on the sofa, feeding my baby, and thought I’d take a drink from my water bottle. So instead of having the hand-not-holding-the-baby pushing in part of my breast to provide breathing room, it was holding the water bottle. It was only when I heard a strange sucking sound coming from my boob that I realised what was happening. Never again.

With my second baby, I knew that it was never going to happen outside of the hospital. So I got my obstetrician to give me some tablets to stop my milk. I had several gloriously hazy hours where I thought my husband was a movie star, and ta da, no more milk.

Parenting is SO easy. I just never got the hang of it.

And so it starts….

Today I went to clean the toilet. This is not exciting, or in any way interesting. But Laney, my 3 year old had obviously decided that the cleaning needed to be done yesterday, and had cleaned the toilet whilst there was still, well, um, poo in it. So my toilet brush is no longer used for cleaning, but for dirtying. YUCK.

Are you feeling sick reading this? Imagine how I felt finding it. Welcome to my life

I promise from here on in that I will truthfully narrate my life for your reading pleasure. Or displeasure. So expect the unexpected at every turn, because this is a blog about life, and life is NEVER the way we expect it to be.