A bit of honesty...

Today, after all my excitement and big thinking, I have un-enrolled in my nursing degree. My feelings are a little... mixed, about it all.

I know it's right, I'm sure it's right. But still.

I still want to do it, someday I think. I would like to be a nurse. But not right now. I knew, I think I always knew that something about it all just wasn't sitting right. I probably tried to ignore that not-rightness for a while. But this morning, I took the kids for a walk, and really, really talked to God for the first time in a long time. And I just got that knowledge, (that still small voice) You need to un-enroll in university.

If I'm being really, really honest about it all. Which, lets face it, has always been my goal in this blog. I don't think I had my priorities right. I would like to be a nurse, or do something one day. But much of this stemmed from me searching for some kind of validation, I guess.

Because this. My life. So, so much of it is really unrewarding. I spend so many moments of my life feeling inadequate, feeling frustrated, feeling guilty. I often feel like I am doing so many, many things wrong in this parenting gig, and often I struggle to see the bigger picture.  I'd like to feel important. Like who I am, what I do, what I contribute to the world matters. And I don't really get that feeling from motherhood. Often, I don't feel like I am enough.  I thought I could get that feeling from doing a little bit of something extra that was for me. Honestly I guess I really and truly believed that that piece of paper I would work to achieve would make me matter more. And that's a lie. I know it. But at times it feels true. 

I didn't take into account what would be best for my family, for my little people, for my husband. In different circumstances it could work. It might have been more possible if it was a different kind of study, one that didn't have so much prac involved. It might have been easier if we lived somewhere different, if my kids were older. It certainly is possible. But right now it wouldn't have been what is best.

Often the task of raising my babies feels like something that is too hard, and often it feels like it should be my turn to put my own needs first. But I know that is my own selfish nature talking, and it is not the one that will lead me the right way. I am in a position where I am blessed enough to be able to stay home and look after my children. It might be different if I wasn't. Even though I feel some days that there is space in my life for study and a career.... If I want to be the mother I am supposed to be, if I want to be the person that God created me to be, right now, in my life? There just isn't.

This isn't easy. But really, neither was study going to be. I had enrolled in my courses for the semester and I was excited, but it was a kind of nervous, frantic excitement. It didn't feel peaceful, or right. It was just making me feel overwhelmed, and stressed.

I need to learn how to be more disciplined in what I do now, before I even think about trying to add more into my life. I need to be mindful, and have purpose in raising these tiny humans. Not just lurch from one disaster to the next. I need to learn how to do more than survive. I need to wait on God's perfect timing, not rush ahead and try to pretend like I know better than He does. I need to do my best with what I have been given now, not act like a petulant child who wants to go on and do something else because the task in front of them seems too hard.

I need to believe that I am enough. That who He is makes me enough. That being who He has called me to be is enough. I don't want to be lied to by the world, and fall into the trap of believing that a woman who spends her days looking after her children and her household has no value. Who I am, what I do, has value. Because of Him.

When it's just not enough

Don't give up. Don't quit. Keep going.

If you have more bad days than good. If things are too hard. If you cannot cope with the demands of your family. If you find yourself so frustrated and angry that you literally have to lock yourself away from your children because you are frightened you will hurt them. If you just want to cease to exist. If you can barely get through the day.

It is not okay. It is not acceptable.  And it is not supposed to be this way.

If you were in pain, if you hurt yourself physically and had to live life with your pain consistently at an 8, or a 9, or a 10, it would not be okay. There would be surgery, and pain medication, and a plan to heal. Your emotional and spiritual pain should not be any different. Sure sometimes we do struggle and have bad days, pain is a part of life. Life is pain, highness, anyone who says otherwise is selling something. But it should not be your life.

I kind of can't believe I am writing this post. Because I have read so many things that all say the same thing. But a couple of my experiences this week lead me to believe that it needs to be written. Still we struggle. Obviously we just don't say it enough. If this helps one person, it is worth it.

 Don't give up. Don't quit. Keep going.

There is still a stigma. "Oh I didn't think you would be that type of person" (What person, the type with horns and blue skin?) "She just needs to focus on the positives" (She's trying) "He just needs to organize himself better." (No, he is not coping, and he needs help.)

It's easy to fill out the questionnaires you get at the Dr's office, and lie just well enough, so that it doesn't look too obvious, but so that you never really tell the truth. But you know who loses in the end in that scenario? You.

 Don't give up. Don't quit. Keep going.

I'm not saying you need to spill out your pain and anguish to every person that you meet. Fake it till you make it can be extremely helpful sometimes. Sometimes you don't want to let every single person who wants in, into your own personal business. And that's okay. But you need to talk to somebody. You need to let someone see you without the mask. You cannot do this alone. You were never supposed to.

People are never going to get it right all of the time. They will never be able to fix everything. But you've got to give them the chance to try. People can't help you if they don't know that you need help. God puts people into our lives for a reason. He is trying to help. But you need to let them. Let Him in.

See your doctor. See your pastor. Talk to somebody about how you are feeling. Maybe you need antidepressants, maybe you don't. Maybe it would help to talk to someone that isn't going to be hurt by the words you need to speak. Maybe they can help you develop strategies so that you can better cope with the problems you have in your life. And yes, maybe the first person you talk to will be less than helpful. But find someone else. Try again.

Don't give up. Don't quit. Keep going.

You are not supposed to feel this way. Don't buy into the lie that this is what you deserve. Don't believe that this is all there is. He has so much more for you, than you have for yourself.

We were created to feel deeply. To feel sad sometimes is normal. But it is not normal to dwell in a place of sadness forever. The story doesn't have to go this way. It is your story. You are not responsible for what happens to you, but you are responsible for the way you deal with it.



Don't give up.

Don't quit.

Keep going.





Linking up with Grace today.

{Grateful for the small things}

This morning has been all kinds of stupid.

I woke up to Charlie telling me he was ready for a feed. As I was feeding him, Georgie woke up. I finished feeding him and left him lying on my bed while I went in to Georgie. I found her covered in poop, which apparently has a play dough-like texture that makes it great for playing with. Not fun. That being said..... she was not eating it. {Grateful for the small things}

After chucking her in the bath, soaking her sheets, wiping her cot and the walls next to her cot and getting her dressed and ready for the day, I walked in to get Charlie who was just starting to fuss. I discovered more poop. Charlie's nappy had sprung a major leak and there was a wonderful big mess all over my bed. It had even gone through to our mattress protector. Not fun. Plus, today it has been raining and storming, making it much harder for me to get all this washing done.

Some days you seriously wonder why anyone would have kids.

I was trying to get us all fed and out the door by 9:30am as I had a meeting to go to. I was just starting to get really stressed as I could not put Charlie down without having him scream, so I had no idea how I was going to have a shower when I got a text message. It was from my sister, Jenny. It read 'Thought I'd cook you a lasagne today. Sound ok?' {Grateful for the small things}.

As I was just getting everything organised to go, Charlie was just starting to fuss again in his bed. Before I got to him Georgie had raced ahead of me and was reaching into the cradle to pat him on the head. {Grateful for the small things}

This motherhood thing can be so hard sometimes. It's easy to suddenly have everything pile on top of you and you feel like you are drowning. Little tasks which used to be so simple now seem so amazingly difficult. I am desperate for just a little bit of space. But amidst all the chaos that is raining down, there are patches of light. I've just got to remember to look for them.

Today, it is enough.

Sometimes I kind of wonder if I am doing everything I could be, everything I should be? Some days I feel like I am walking through quicksand. Some days it feels like I am stuck, like in the movie Groundhog Day.... everything is the same and it will never, ever change.

It seems to be a common problem with Stay-at-home-Mummies. We love our kids, but we feel a little trapped by them. Getting bogged down by the mundane.

The other day I got a phone call from my old work. They have a new boss, and she was just ringing to see if I would be interested in coming back at all. She had been talking to the owners, who had mentioned I had left to have a baby.... and maybe I would come back after a year or so? (I said that, but I totally didn't mean it. It was a bit of just-in-case). I said no, seeing as how I'm about to have another baby in two weeks and all. But we had a bit of a chat, and she said I could feel free to just let them know any time I wanted to come back.

And it made me feel really good you know? To hear that someone wanted me. To hear that I have something that someone wants. Even though really, I worked in childcare, so it would be hardly any different to what I am doing now. But still, it made me feel good.

But I don't want to go back to work. Financially, and for our family... it just doesn't make sense. I know it would send me crazy. But the desire was still there a little, and that surprised me. I was surprised by how much of a boost that phone call gave me.

Because sometimes I don't feel like I am getting this motherhood thing right. Sometimes I look at Georgie and think 'are you happy enough?' Sometimes I really don't like the Mummy I am. Sometimes I long for peace, and control and order. Sometimes this is suffocating.Sometimes I really don't like her. And I hate it, but it doesn't stop me feeling that way.

But today.... today we are doing okay. Today I look at my little girl and she is busy. She does not feel neglected. She smiles. She chatters away in a language that only she can understand. She is busy living. And that is good. That is enough.

Even though at times it feels like I am not doing anything of importance or significance, contributing nothing to the world... the fact remains that I am everything to her. I love that my arms are the comfort she seeks when something goes wrong. That is good. I am everything to this person growing in me. And that is exactly as it should be. Today, it is enough.

I'm linking up with Jess at Diary of A SAHM for #IBOT. Come say hello, and check out her new digs!

Also, for those of you who didn't know... I made it into the top 25 for the Circle of Moms competition! I came in at number 22 with 452 votes! And I know that its just not possible that every one of those votes came from my family.... so to everyone who voted, Thank you so much! It was really nice to make it in.

This thing called Life...

Some days I feel like I am doing well. Other days I wonder what on earth I am playing at, and how long it's going to take before somebody notices that I'm doing everything wrong.

Some days the house is beautiful. I look at where I live and I feel happy. My yard is spacious and green and lush, the garden is lovely and my house is clean and tidy. My floor is spotless and the bathroom looks nice. Some days the washing up is done, the folding is put away and my washing machine motors away merrily. Some days I feel like I am winning in the constant battle against untidiness that seems to fill my life.

Other days the house is a pigsty. My garden is a mess and everything is dry and yellow and horrible. The lawn is overgrown and 'didn't we just mow it the other day?' The floor is filthy and I have to put on socks just so the anal OCD side of me doesn't burst into tears just because I am walking around feeling dirt gather on my bare feet. On those days nothing is clean and it is never going to get clean. There are just too many dishes piled up on the sink and the folding basket is overflowing. Those days cleaning is just too hard and there is no point anyway- it will all be dirty tomorrow. On those days days my family are the soul-sucking leeches that continually mess up everything, and they have no thought or appreciation of the fact that I spend my life cleaning up after them.

Some days with my child are good. She sleeps well and has long naps and is quite happy to play independently. She is cheerful and smiles at strangers and is obedient and well-behaved. We play together and I just adore her, and her smile seems to be everything in the world. Some days my child is so happy and I feel like I am doing a fantastic job as a mother. Some days I know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be and could not imagine going back to work and leaving her because I know that what I am doing is good and worthwhile.

Other days my child is a holy terror. She screams and hits and scratches and bites and is miserable and unhappy. On those days she does not sleep, eat or listen to a single word I say. Other days she whines and cries and follows me around moaning all day and I struggle to keep myself together until she finally goes to bed. Some nights it feels like I have hardly even touched my bed and I am literally a walking zombie. Some days I wonder what on earth I am doing as a parent and it is all I can do to stop myself from calling the nearest childcare centre, because even a trained monkey could do a better job as a mother than me.

Some days I am a good wife. My husband is happy and he comes home to a happy, smiling wife and child. Some days he has plenty of clean clothes to wear and a nice dinner to eat. Some days he is happy in his work and we communicate effectively like two grown-ups. Some days the love I feel for him is so great I can hardly contain it. Some days I feel like the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world.

Other days my husband comes home to a screaming banshee of a child and a wild-eyed, psychotic woman for a wife. He is unhappy in his job and has had a terrible day and all he wants to do is sit down and have a beer and watch some TV, but his wife makes unceasing, complicated demands on him until he feels ready to explode. Those days he comes home to a house that is in shambles, he has no clean clothes and there is nothing to eat and home certainly doesn't feel like a safe haven. Other days my husband is a negative, miserable unhappy man who I have no idea why I married. We have nothing in common and our level of communication is frighteningly similar to that of toddlers.

Some days I am glowing in pregnancy. I feel the movement of life within my tummy and am astounded at the life within me. Some days I feel like a beautiful picture of femininity and cannot wait to meet this baby. I have plenty of energy and feel like pregnancy is a wonderful experience.

Other days I am tired of being pregnant, and just plain old tired in general. I hurt everywhere and I feel unwell and am so sick of my body not being able to do the things I want it to. On those days the baby continually jumps on my bladder, or kicks me in the ribs and I am so uncomfortable. I wonder what kind of God could think that pregnancy or birth was a good idea and surely He could have designed things better? Other days I am terrified of going through labour again and cannot stop myself from thinking of everything that could go wrong. I do not want to have two children under two and have no idea how I am going to cope. I feel like huge, unattractive ball of yuck and just want to hide in my bedroom because nobody could possibly want to look at me.

Some days I am witty and intelligent. I write a post and receive many comments about it and feel encouraged like I really do have something valid to say. Some days the internet feels like a nice, friendly space and I am so grateful for the people I have met and gotten to know.

Other days I spend my life slaving away at the computer and neglect my life. Other bloggers and commenter are rude and stupid. Nobody ever says a single thing to me, or replies to any of my tweets or comments, so I may as well be invisible. Obviously I have nothing to offer the world and I cannot write for peanuts. Everyone else is better than me and I should just stop wasting my time and just get on with my life.

Some days life is easy and it works. Other days living can be the hardest thing in the world. Some days I feel like I've got it right, others I wonder how I could ever be so far wrong and I am glad that every day is not like that. I like that most days are a mix of both, not cry-yourself-to-sleep dreadful, nor dancing-on-clouds happy. I'm very grateful for some days, but on other days, the best thing that can be said is that the day is over.

Linking up with Glowless today because it's Friday!

Deep thoughts....

I'm just feeling a little rotten tonight. (Gah.... how often do I preface a blog post with that, or something like it?)

But today has been hard work. Shane was on Communion at church, plus he was playing drums, so he was there early and had all that added stress. Then I realised that I was on the roster for morning tea, so I made brownies which were a dismal failure, and consequently was very late for church, only arriving in time to hear the last part of his Communion message, plus I slipped in the shower and hurt my back. But I honestly am trying to keep myself from having a bit of a pity party. It just feels tough being a Mummy sometimes. You're the last priority.

I'm hesitant to write too much stuff about my marriage and Shane here, because (a) this blog is read by people who know us, (b) I think it's not really that fair to write about a relationship when you only have one side of the story and the other person has no opportunity to speak their piece and (c) I make it a general rule to only speak good about him. I will let him know when I am unhappy- sometimes I do that too much! But I feel that men get enough trouble poured on them in the world without having the one person who is supposed to love them running them down, and really is there anything worse than hearing a wife talk about how bad she thinks her husband is?

So as a result I keep fairly quiet, or else I only try to talk about the good things. But then I was thinking, is that necessarily right either? I want this blog to be accurate. I am trying to make a bit of a record for my children, (with an added dash of therapy for me)... but I don't want to make it seem like everything's peachy all the time either. Because I hate it when we try to paint everything as perfect, when it just isn't.

Side note: I've noticed it seems to be very hard for people (me included) to just tell it how it is. We either exaggerate the good and downplay the bad, or else we magnify the bad and minimize the good... why is that?

On the other hand, I don't want to air out my dirty laundry here either.

But, marriage is hard. Relationships are tough. I think I'm just finding the whole stay-at-home Mum thing a bit difficult at the moment. It's hard, not earning money. I don't know why earning money matters so much, but I am amazed at how hard it feels not to. Plus it doesn't help that I am not the money-earner, yet I seem to be the money-spender. Not that Shane ever really tries to make me feel this, but I still do.

It's also hard being pregnant. I think I'm just a little all over the place at the moment, and I am so, so tired. I just want someone to take care of me. I must admit, I just feel like Shane doesn't really care about my pregnancy or what's going on with me right now. I know it's not true, and I know that he probably could wait on me hand and foot right now and I'd still be unhappy. Plus he is dealing with a lot at the moment too. But still, between Georgie being an extra handful lately, me trying to organise things for the baby, plus trying to adjust my diet and get in more exercise just in case I do have gestational diabetes, and the general cooking, cleaning and everything that comes with being a wife and a Mum... I just feel like doing my best Shannon Noll impression [What about meeeee?]

I think this parenting gig can also be tough when there is one parent who does so much of the primary parenting. Shane works 14 hours most days, he's not home every night. Some nights he only sees Georgie for 15 minutes before she goes to bed. So when he has a weekend off (like he has this weekend) he sometimes watches some of my parenting practices with.... trepidation. Which bugs the heck out of me.

I must admit, my style of parenting is pretty laid-back. But in my defense it has to be. I cannot watch Georgie every minute of the day because I would go insane. Also, I have things to do. It is impossible for me to have a shower, clean, cook, blog etc while watching her at all times. So she does roam the house pretty freely. I have made the general area of the house very, very kid-safe so that she can. I am also more of a 'wait and see how she goes and see if she really needs help before I step in' kind of parent. Georgie has not hurt herself badly (yet) and she is quite cautious. I would probably be less laid-back with a different child, but I know Georgie and her capabilities and she is pretty okay most of the time. So when Shane makes comments on my practices, it's hard not to get my back up.

But tonight, after a few cranky words and me having a good cry. I was thinking. Who takes care of Shane? I am constantly wanting him to take care of me, but it does work both ways. I feel like I am giving and giving, but maybe I need to watch myself a bit more. And yes, I do 'do' a lot. But with what attitude? Because honestly, sometimes when people do things for me with a huge air of sacrifice, I'd rather they just not bother. Am I guilty of that with my husband?

When was the last time I tried to enjoy him? I don't mean little moments of gratefulness and joy. But actual, long-lasting contentment. Granted he is imperfect. But it's not up to me to change him. And have I been looking to him for more than he can give?

I think Hollywood is responsible for so much of our screwiness (yes that is a word. a good one). There is nothing more romantic than that scene in Jerry McGuire when Tom Cruise says "You complete me." Don't you just melt a little? But really, it's a load of codswallop. You look to another person to complete you and you just won't end up whole. Maybe I've been relying on Shane a little too much to fix things, when in fact is he is just another messed-up person like me who is incapable of making it better?

God is the only one who can complete. I need to be turning to him a little more. Granted, it's hard. I don't know about you, but sometimes it feels a bit... useless to me, turning to God. (Oh Lord, I am a bad Christian). But honestly, that's how I feel. Sometimes it feels like you can turn to God only to get a great big fat nothing in response. But maybe I'm doing it wrong? Maybe too often, I am telling God how to fix things, telling him exactly what I want. Not asking for his help. He will give what I need. His ways are not my ways [Isaiah 55:8] He may not give the way I want him to, but He will give in ways that are lasting. His waters are those that will quench all thirst. [John 4:14]

Yep. Need to remember this stuff.

So, bottom line, Shane could probably do more. But marriage is hard, and I am not responsible for what he does. I am responsible for what I do though, and I need to watch my own attitude and make sure I am looking after him as well. I also need to look to God to fix my problems a little more instead of Shane. I wish I just already inherently knew all this stuff sometimes...  I seem to learn so slow!

Going Through the Motions

Did you ever watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer? It's probably not really what Paul was thinking about when he wrote Philippians 4:8..... but I used to enjoy it. The musical episode was one of my favourites, and this song seems to just be summing up things pretty well lately.

Sometimes life just feels very... tasteless. It's nothing I can put my finger on, and it's not even that bad or noticeable. But things are just very same old right now. Housework seems to be in an endless, unrewarding cycle, and I am starting to get a little bit uncomfortable with this pregnancy, although I'm still only 28 weeks along. But this baby just seems to be sitting much higher than Georgie did and appears to have a penchant for shoving little feet in my ribs!

I'm starting to get slightly freaked out at how soon I may actually have a new baby in relation to how prepared I am (the ratio is a little too unbalanced I think). But I'm still finding it hard to muster up the energy required to organise cupboards and start finding little clothes and baby things.

I kind of feel guilty, because I just don't have that same level of euphoria that I had when I was pregnant with Georgie. I'm happy to be having another baby, don't get me wrong.... but the joy is tempered with a lot more dread this time as I know exactly what I'm getting into. I'm also worried about how Georgie will cope with it all, but I know that it will only be a short-term thing until she gets used to it. Plus, I'm just busier this time around. It's nothing in particular, I'm just very tired. It's hard though.

I feel so bad for this baby, because I just feel like it's not getting/going to get the same amount of attention that Georgie did. I feel guilty for not being more excited, I feel guilty for what this may do to Georgie.... basically I just feel guilty all of the time! But this baby will probably be better for a little healthy neglect... that's what I tell myself anyway!

We're off on holidays in a couple of weeks, which will be lovely- and exactly what we need I think! Hopefully when I get back I can start to really get things done.


What about you? Did you feel less pregnancy-induced excitement the second time round? And were/are you also a Buffy fan?


Linking up with Jess for I blog on Tuesdays... check it out!

Lonely

Most of the time, my life is good. And I know it. I appreciate the fact that I am better off than about 90% of the world's population.

But on days like today, all I know is I'm lonely.

I hate having my husband away.

I feel so useless staying at home.

I know that being a Mum is a very important job. But at the same time, is it all I am? Because at times I feel.... unfulfilled. I feel horrible for saying that. But there it is.

Maybe it's because I only have one child. Maybe with more children the feeling will go away and I'll feel like I'm achieving more.

I really do think that this, this being a stay-at-home-mum, is of value. I believe that I am doing something, giving my child something that is so worthwhile.

But at times, like now, I don't feel it.

I've mentioned it before, how I didn't think earning money defined me. And I don't. But when me staying at home means my husband works so hard, it just doesn't sit well. Sometimes, he is away for weeks on end, with only weekends at home in between. We could change. We could downsize. Live on less. But really if I'm honest, the problem also comes from the fact that Shane's work isn't just about money. He also works for his family's business. So it's much more complicated than a regular job.

His parents have helped us out an awful lot over the years. And Shane does value the fact that he has gotten to know his Father so well. He has spent a lot of time with his Dad. They have gotten to know each other, and respect one another as men. There are so many men who would give anything for more time with their Dad, and Shane knows that. But at the same time, there is also a lot of baggage that is involved when you work with family. There is a very high cost. And some days it's all just too hard.

Shane often says, if he dies tomorrow he would be so disappointed. He wouldn't have spent as much time with us as he could have. And that hurts. We are only looking at this, his current work situation, as being a very short-term thing, in terms of how long you have to live. But at the same time, we don't know the number of our days. And we want to spend as many of them as we can together as family.

I am so incredibly grateful for Georgina. She is so much sunshine in my life. Loving her, looking after he, makes me smile constantly and I'm so glad for that.

But it too, comes with a cost. It means that I have a lot of space. Sometimes too much. Now don't get me wrong, sometimes she can drive me practically insane. But, many of the things I do as a Mum right now, they don't necessarily require much, intellectually, of me. So at times, I have a lot of time to think. To over-think.

I wish I could do something more that challenged me a little you know? I don't want to be crazy-busy and not be able to stop and smell the roses, but at the same time, you can only smell so many roses.

I want to get my mind busier.

I don't know how yet, and I don't know that now is the right time to do anything. But I wish I did. And I wish I knew how to be okay with being alone every night. With waking up alone every morning. It's not really a gap that other people can fill either. I am glad to live near family and have friends. But they can only help so much. And at the end of the day other people go back to their own houses and families.

I hate the late afternoons. When the clock hits about 5:30pm or so, Georgie needs to be home, having dinner, going to bed. Most afternoons find me at Mum's. And oh, how I dread going home. Some days it is too hard, going back to a cold empty house. Having to be busy, busy getting Georgie ready for bed. I can't wait to put her to bed at night, to have space, but at the same time I hate it, because I miss her company.

Maybe that's why I've run with blogging so much. It's a chance, an opportunity, to get words out. To feel like I am still part of the world and not completely disconnected. To communicate and feel like I actually have something of value to offer. At least I can talk to Shane on the phone often. At least I have family. Sometimes the space is nice, I can have a bath and read at night. But sometimes it's too quiet. I know people who are desperate for what I've got. But knowing you have what others crave doesn't make what you have any easier.

Sometimes it's just not enough.

I am still lonely.

It is SO happening....

image taken from here

I am quite proud of myself.

Georgie is eleven and a half months now and has been breastfed for the entire time. It hasn't always been easy. I had trouble in the beginning (don't most of us?) and then had some huge problems with thrush, but we got through. And I even kept breastfeeding her through the first three months of this pregnancy. Something which I wasn't sure I could do. It's been hard, but I was aiming to get her to 12 months. So I feel pretty good about that.

But now I really want my body back.

I'm tired. I think being pregnant and breastfeeding is taking a lot out of me, and I just want to have a break. I think if I wasn't pregnant and didn't know that I'll be feeding a newborn again in six months time, I might have waited. I was even thinking about maybe going a bit longer and letting Georgie wean herself. Not, you know forever, but maybe to like fifteen months or so? But now, I just really, really want to stop.

The problem however, is that my little girl, she loves her some boobies. She would feed all the time if I let her. She has three feeds a day, and while she did sleep through for a little while at eight months, now, she will wake up at least once for a feed at night (and sometimes much, much more often). And I need to stop. It hurts (oh! it hurts) especially at night. I thought for a while it was the thrush coming back, but we treated that and it persisted. So now I'm thinking it must just be me.

But the problem is, I don't know how to wean her. She will not touch a bottle. She never has. And that's partly my fault because I never really bothered trying. She won't even drink from a sippy cup very much. I've started trying to get her used to straws, and now she's drinking water pretty well from a straw.

I've been trying to cut down her feeds, but she's been sick, and not herself, and so I find it hard because when she's sick, she just wants to nurse. I'm really scared that I'm going to have to go cold turkey on her, but I cannot stand the thought of having her scream for days when I know I could fix it. I'm also not keen on what it will do to me. My Mum had to do that with my oldest sister, and I know it will only be a few days, but I just don't want to do it. Especially because lately she seems to just be going from cold to cold, plus, I'm still a bit sick, plus, Shane's away a lot in the next few weeks.

My goal was to get her drinking from something else, which I've done with the straw, then stop the night feeding, and then just do it gradually. But it's the night feeding that's the sticking point at the moment. She wakes up, and will scream and scream and scream if I don't go to her and feed her. I can't just be near her or pat her. I must feed her. She's just so strong and has so much stamina! And you know how their crying always seems so much worse in the dead of night?

I'm a bit stuck. I've decided that it is happening. I need to do this, soon. I was thinking about trying to do it gradually over the next two weeks before she turns one, and I was just going to give her cows milk, I figure she's close enough to being one now that it will be okay. But I still just don't really know how to go about it. So I thought I'd send out an SOS. How did you wean your babies? And how do you think I should go about weaning mine? Because she is haarrd. And I am tired. So, ideas? Please?

the taste of grey...

There is an old lady who lives down the road from me. She has lived in that house for as long as I can remember. Every afternoon she and her dog, Rosie go for a walk. Rosie doesn't need a leash. They always walk the same path. Two slow moving figures at the exact same time, every day.

I long for that kind of predictability. For routine. Yet at the same time, the idea of it makes me feel stifled, claustrophobic.



I don't want to whine or moan. I hate it when you read from other people's perspectives and it's all doom and gloom and negativity. Most of the time I think of myself as an optimist. But today has just been.... awful.

I miss Shane. But it's not just that. Georgie has been quite grumpy, and every time she has gone to sleep the dogs have woken her up with her barking, or the phone has rung. I've been tired (exhausted!). But it's not even all that. It's just a general pervading greyness that has hovered around and oozed over me all day.

I have not done a single productive thing. The house looks exactly the same as it did this morning- maybe even messier. I have been a grumpy, horrible, fishwife all day. And I hate that, you know? I hate that all day Georgie has been around a grumpy person. I don't want my baggage to colour her world. I know it has to, to some extent. You simply can't help that if you love. But I don't like it when I let my baggage become all-consuming.

I am just so tired of my life. I want routine. I want to be able to look at the clock in the afternoon and be able to think, 'Shane will be home in X amount of hours'. And even when he's home, we never get that. There's always work to do. Time off is rarely completely time off. There's a blessing and a curse of working in a family business and working within a disorganised, chaotic industry. But I want to look forward to weekends and make plans. I want to be able to look forward to things with certainty instead of hope. Far too often we don't make concrete plans because we just don't know if we're going to be able to keep them. We say, might, or should, or hope to. Not yes.

Now please, don't judge me. I know I'm having a pity party, but I am allowed to! I promise I am trying to get out of this soon. And I know there are so many people who are dealing with issues that are so, so much bigger and harder than this. But right now, for me? This is my hard. We all have our own problems. And no, there is nothing we can do. This is it for the next couple of years at least. I'm really not trying to make people feel sorry for me either. But I just want to get this out, your know? And I'd like to know if we're not alone. If anyone else has to deal with this kind of thing?

Because right now, it's just not fair.

When your husband works away....

I am very fortunate. In the choice of partners I did very well. And I never notice it more than when he has to go away.

Right now Shane is working away for at least a week. Now, compared to most families who deal with working in the oil and gas industry, we are lucky. Shane does not work on a very strict roster, he does not have to camp away too much. He always tries to get home every night when he can. His parents are pretty good to us and always try to keep Shane around our area when they can. But right now all of the work is away- so for the next little while, he will be away. And it is hard.

I got spoiled you see. Much of the work he has been doing has been around our town. We have also had a lot of rain. So consequently, Shane has been around a great deal. Pretty much ever since Georgie was born, in fact. So now I am getting used to being alone again. But it is harder still with a baby. Every day I am used to waiting for the night. Waiting for another adult to come home to talk to and share the load with. (And he does share the load well) Now it's just me.

I get angry sometimes, at people with ordinary jobs. At women who complain and moan about their husbands always working, when they get to see them on the weekends and every night. I want a weekend dammit! But I know I need to be reminded that we all have our personal crosses to bear.

I never appreciate him more than when he goes away. Now I have to start the fire at night. I have to wait until Georgie goes to bed before I have my dinner because otherwise it is just too difficult. When Shane is home he will generally help out with bathing Georgie or feeding her or putting her to bed. He might get dinner started or cooked if I need him to. And it's even more than that. It's that person to smile at and talk to when there's something funny or interesting on television. It's that warm body to snuggle up to in bed, after I've had to get up in the middle of the night to a crying baby. It's someone to sigh to, when she won't go to sleep easily or when she wakes up when she should be asleep. It's someone to say "I'll go this time" occasionally. It's waking up to a warm house because he's started the fire when he wakes up early. It's just Shane.

He's mine, you know? He's the rest of me. I just miss him. And life just feels a little wrong when he's not around.

It's not that bad really. I need to make sure I don't let myself get too down. But it's also the fear. Just that tiny niggling fear, that people die. Some husbands don't come back from work occasionally. Especially in the transport industry. And who's to say that it won't be my husband one of these days?

So tomorrow I'll be okay. And even now it's really not that bad. At least I can call him and talk to him most of the time. He's not even that far away. And, most importantly, he doesn't want to be away. I know that whenever he has a choice, he always chooses us. He loves his family. I really did win with him. Don't get me wrong, he's no saint. Some days he drives me so crazy I could just hit him, (and do- ha! spoon) But he is pretty good. Besides, it's not even for that long. Hopefully (that's another post- the disorganisation and uncertainty that is the oil and gas industry) he will be home by next weekend.

But right now I just really miss my husband.

A post in which I am completely stripped of my dignity, bravery and sanity... (and will probably be sued by PETA)

I am girl.

I don't do mice or rats or grasshoppers or spiders.

That's why I have a husband.

And I'm fine with that.

But my husband works away. And some days it is beyond crap. Like today. Last night he came home for one night. (One night out of like, the past million that he has been away) But Georgie is sick and did not want to go to sleep and then I burned dessert, because I was too busy trying to put Georgie to sleep. It was just all bad my friends, I'm telling you.

It's funny, I was actually pretty angry with God about the whole thing- going "Why!? Why!? When we only have one night and he works away and it's not fair and some women don't even appreciate their husbands! When you could have had Georgie sleep and we could have had time together!" I swear, if I could have, I would have punched God in the face. I was one angry angry ant.

But then, after we had (finally) gotten Georgie to sleep and were completely exhausted and had two minutes together before Shane had to go to bed. I was reminded. He is not a genie. He does not automatically give us what we want. Just what we need.

It still sucked though.

But anyway, back to the story.

So this morning, I woke up with Shane at four in the morning (yes, I know!) and made his lunch and had a cup of coffee with him and said goodbye and then he left at five to be back out at work by six. I was about to head back to bed because Georgie was (amazingly) still asleep.

And then a mousetrap went off.

Now look I'm not a complete sook, I will deal with mice in traps. I hate doing it, but I can. But this mouse didn't get caught in the trap. Not all of him anyway. Not the bits that mattered.

The poor thing was screeching and squealing with his legs half crushed in the trap. So I decided to try to hit it. I would have been fine with just letting it go if it was alright, but this thing had a broken leg, I couldn't just leave it. So I picked up a poker from the fireplace and tried to whack it. I managed to whack the trap instead and the mouse got free. Panicking, it ran away from me, but it couldn't run properly so it was doing a mad half-run, half slide. Then it hid behind a table. I tried to whack it again and hit the mark this time but when the poker connected with the little mouse body I felt horridly sick and decided I just couldn't do it.

I walked past Chloe, who was cowering in a corner and hissed ' You are not a dog!' and then rang Shane who was about half an hour away by this point, in tears, begging him to come home. He was unfortunately, unable to oblige. (I am so sick of him being away) I discussed the idea of drowning it with him and he said that sounded like a good idea. Muttering "this is not my job!" I hung up the phone and filled up a bucket of water in the laundry and picked up the tongs from the fireplace to try to pick up the wounded mouse.

 The wounded mouse suddenly decided that it felt much better and started running away, so I chased it and managed to corner the damn thing behind a wooden box. Then I went 'what the hell do I do now?'. So I tried maniacally waving the poker at it from one side of the box so that it would run out the other side. This was not very effective. Then I tried to move the box out from the wall and the mouse hid behind a piece of paper behind the box. So I (being the intelligent being that I am) got the bright idea of throwing something heavy on it and squishing it.

I picked up one of Shane's big biblical commentaries and threw it on said mouse. It did not hit said mouse very accurately but did manage to trap it's lower body. Then I picked up a heavy bible and threw it as well. This was more effective and squished the mouse. So then, in tears and feeling like the most horrible person in the world, I watched the mouse make it's last pathetic little bids for freedom while it lay dying.

Once the mouse was very dead. I tried to scoop it up with the a dustpan, and had carried it partway to the door when the mouse gave one final death twitch. I got a fright and flung the mouse in the air, then it landed on the floor, and smudged a teeny bit of blood from it's crushed internal organs on the tile. I decided I could not face the thought of getting close enough to it to scoop it up again and swept it the rest of the way out the door and into the garden.

Then I collapsed in a big heap on the floor and cried.
 
And now, since I feel so sick and shattered, I cannot go to sleep, so I will sit on my chair and wait for Georgie (who, amazingly enough, slept through the ruckus) to wake up, and surf the internet to read other women's mouse stories and make myself feel much better.

All this before 6am.

It's going to be a great day.



Note: This one's going in FlogYoBlog Friday's over at  Glowless's joint!

New hair!

So, today I got my hair cut. I've been contemplating getting it short for a while now, and this morning I woke up exceptionally grouchy and sad, and decided, I wanted a change and I wanted it now dammit! Plus, Wednesday's are my Mum's days off and the best days for appointments and things.

I was feeling really great when the hairdresser started chopping at my hair, but then when it was done and they had put a few foils through and dried it I started to feel exceptionally nervous! I was suffering from a huge case of Oh-my-Goodness-what-have-I-done-I-haven't-had-short-hair-for-over-5-years-and-I-won't-be-able-to-tie-it-up.... and it was all bad! It probably didn't help that the apprentice dried my hair and she was teeny bit rough and was making it poofy and I did not want poofy!

But then my hairdresser came back and showed her how to do it properly, and she straightened it a bit and then took a lot more hair off, because my hair is thick yo! And by the end of it I was feeling okay.

So here it is:

I am reasonably happy with the hair. Although it will probably be a totally different story tomorrow morning after I wash it and try to style it myself- especially considering the hair straightener is not my best friend!

Also, Georgie decided to get in on the photo action.... and I realised I haven't taken photos of her for a really long time! Isn't she cute? Note the teeth!

 

And yeah, that's my Wednesday in a nutshell. So...... what's the verdict people? Bearing in mind that I am very fragile.... (so basically comment if you like it and shush if you don't!)

Validation

Today things are really hard. You know what I'm finding awfully difficult at the moment? A lack of.... validation. I feel like so much of what I do is so- nothing.

I always thought that being a Mother was such an important job, and I still do think that. But it's amazing how much better the simple fact that I was being paid made me feel. It validated me. It's funny, because I always used to say that working in childcare wasn't about the money (because we were paid peanuts). And I honestly didn't think it was. But there's still something about going to work every day, talking to people about what you are doing, having people tell you what a good job you are doing, and seeing what a good job you are doing. Now, I just feel so insignificant and ineffectual. One more grain of sand on an endless beach.

Also, I was good at working in Childcare. I was good at dealing with sixteen children a day, and I really enjoyed it. I knew exactly what to do, we had a solid routine, I was in control, in charge, I took great care of those children, I could deal with problems and- I was really good at what I did. Now, I feel like I'm just doing the best I can, surviving. I just want to be good at something.

I knew, going into Motherhood, that this was not going to be easy. I thought I'd be okay because I knew better than most how hard it was going to be. It wasn't like I was unprepared. I had a sister who had 4 children, I had worked with babies, toddlers, preschoolers. I knew about kids. I knew about the sleepless nights, I knew about the difficulty of washing and cleaning and cooking. I knew that being a Mummy is a difficult, thankless task. But I didn't really know until I did it, you know?

I guess I thought I'd have more answers. Maybe I thought there was something magic about motherhood, as you gave birth all this wisdom would just magically appear... and suddenly I would be one of those hallowed fountains of knowledge 'A Mummy'. And I'd know about sick children and eating and breastfeeding and how warm should a baby be in bed..... but I didn't. In fact the further I go along in this the less I think I know.

I hate that I feel like I'm just stumbling my way along in this. I try to act like I know what I'm doing so no-one will see the cracks. But I just keep falling apart. Little, stupid things, make me feel so overwhelmed. I'm just so tired of everything and I long for a change. I'm really tired, but I can't sleep at night. It's stupid, I'll be exhausted all day, and then as night comes, I seem to get more and more alert. And so by 9pm, I'm buzzing. I generally can't sleep until at least 11pm. And I have a baby who sleeps. She sleeps really well by most standards. She's asleep right now- and I should be too. But I can't. I have to let my mind get this out.

I really don't want to admit it, but I've got this horrible fear in the back of my mind that I'm dealing with Post-Natal-Depression. And I'm just so scared of that. I don't want to go to a Doctor and be medicated.  I was so sure that I'd be okay. And I don't want to depressed. And sometimes I don't think I am. I'm not sad all the time, sometimes I can still be happy and be fine. I don't want to hurt Georgie... or myself. I love her too much to do that to her, but I just feel like crap that I'm not a better Mum to her.

I've got all these great people around me that I know I could turn to- and I do... to some degree. Shane is doing the absolute best he can, and I know that. He is doing really well as a husband and a Father. But he's not the problem. I am. And I don't want people to fix this for me, or take this burden away. I want to be able to be okay with this.... But mostly I just want to sleep. Or run away. I feel like I've lost me.

It just never, ever, stops, you know? I miss having set hours, having routine, being able to stop because I've done enough. Lately I just feel like it's never enough. I'm never enough. I know I need things to get better. I want to be happier. I want to be more disciplined and more on track and in control. But the mountain just feels too big to climb at the moment. So someone, please, just tell me that things will get better. Could you please tell me that this too shall pass? Show me the light at the end of the tunnel.

And now on a much lighter note...

Conversation between Shane and I tonight....

Scenario: Georgie had just recently gone to bed. I was watching 'You've got mail' in the lounge room and Shane was in the office working on his Communion message for Sunday.

Me: (Coming into the office) Hey honey, can I look at something on the computer for a second?

Shane: (Grumpy) Oh, fine- but be quick, I had just found the verse I wanted.

Me: (looking up 'You've got mail' images on Google- [gotta love it]!- and then looking at a picture of Meg Ryan.) What do you think I'd look like with that haircut?

Said Picture

Shane: I think you don't need to get your hair cut, because you'll just get it short and then come home all sad because they won't have gotten it right and you'll wish you're hair was long again. Then you'll moan about how you can't put your hair up and I'll have to listen to it.

Me: Yeah, but I always wear it up anyway.

Shane: And you say that every time, and every time you get it cut short, wait for it to grow long enough for you to tie up and then wear it up again. Do what you want to your hair- just don't moan to me about it. And tell the people down the road to stop playing their music so loud.

Me: You're a grumpy old man tonight aren't you?

Shane: Yes, I can't wait until I have grey hair and wrinkles and can be a grumpy old man and nobody will think anything of my grumpiness because I'll be an old man. This Communion message is going nowhere.

Me: Love you. You want a hot chocolate?

Shane: Okay.

I love being married. Sometimes it's so, so hard, but it's really nice. In other news, I'm thinking of getting my hair cut short, what do you think?

Insert witty post tittle here

Georgie has been sick over the weekend. We've had a horrible couple of nights and I've been getting pretty stressed. Today when Shane got home he told me to go have half and hour, so I put a leash on Chloe and we went for a walk.

As I was walking I went past my old work and I started thinking about life before Georgie. I used to be incredibly busy, days were very full. I would wake at around 6:30am and go for a walk, then start work at 8:30am, and finish at 6pm with an hour for lunch. My work was pretty energetic, as I was the Group Leader in the pre-kindy room and was in charge of 16 children. I would generally go to the gym at 6pm, and do an exercise class of some description and not be home until 7:30pm or so, when I'd cook a very easy dinner, watch television for a while and then go to bed. Most days I would also ride my bike to work and then to the gym.  Shane started work at 5am and didn't get home until about 7pm. Life was pretty busy.

Now, Shane still leaves for work at around 5am. He normally gets Georgie up and brings her into bed with me, where I feed her and then she and I go back to bed until we wake, generally at around 8am. Then my days are filled with cleaning, Playgroup on Tuesdays, cleaning, coffee with friends, cleaning, groceries, cleaning.... and that's about it. I try to walk when I can, but I just seem to find it very difficult.

I don't want my old life back. I love Georgie to bits, and Shane and I see a lot more of each other and are much closer than we've ever been. But I still miss how full my days were. I long to be busy, busy, busy- constantly on the go and moving and doing. Life is much... slower, now. I don't want it to be this slow. I don't want to be as busy as I was before, but I wish I had a better balance than I do now, you know?

I can't sleep. But I'm always so tired. I just have so much trouble switching off. Many nights I can't sleep until at least midnight. I think some of that is because Georgie and I have been sleeping in lately, (partly due to the fact that we've been up in the night a lot recently due to teething and her being sick, and honestly, if you had a child who would sleep in wouldn't you?), and I know some of it is because I just enjoy the solitude of the night, when everyone's asleep and I can be alone without someone requiring something of me, but I also think some of it is because I'm just desperate to do.

I know that the busyness will come with more children. But I need to be more disciplined now. It was just so much easier when work did it for me.

Tomorrow I'm going to try to make myself wake up at 6:30am, regardless of what kind of night's sleep I had. I'm going to try to finish my Diploma in Children's services this year, and I'm going to make myself walk every day. I'm going to try. I just wish things weren't so hard.

Her Mummy

The local performing arts society in my town is doing a production of.......

And I want to be in it REAL bad. I think I could pull off Sandy.... (maybe? :)

However, I have a baby,  and with Shane's unpredictable hours there's just no way it can happen. It's quite frustrating because I'm finally at a stage where I have less inhibitions and would really enjoy being in a musical production, and my town hasn't really done a production that I would have loved to be in for a while.....

But she needs me. I am her Mummy. Something nobody else can be. And sure, I could probably (if I swung things right) be in the production. But it would be very unsettling for her. I would have to enlist an awful lot of help from my Mum (who doesn't need to be a babysitter all the time- especially when she is also working) and it would probably put an awful lot of strain on Shane too, especially if I was in a lead role.

There will be other productions. But Georgie will only be my baby once. So in the meantime, I will help out as much as I can with the choreography, which is still lots of fun. And I will remember that some people would give their eye teeth for all that I have. I am a Mummy. I am her Mummy.

the hormones

I've decided I hate them.

The hormones.


I never really knew how utterly crap it is to be a girl until I had a baby. And then the hormones went crazy. I mean, I've always had them,  but they used to be okay... manageable.... they didn't bother me, I didn't bother them. It was a good deal. But now!

I can't- like literally cannot, lose weight. It just doesn't want to shift. And since we've cut out every other possible explanation:

It's the hormones.

Also, now let's just get this out of the way. I am not pregnant. I am really sure of that. I got Shane to buy me a pregnancy test yesterday because I was so not sure about that. (A task which he deemed very injurious to his manhood- but he coped) And the test was definitely negative. And I am not ready to have another baby. I don't particularly want to have two children under the age of eighteen months- I just don't think I could do that. But still.... as I was waiting for results, a teensy part of me was hoping for two little pink lines.

It's the hormones.

Last night I was flicking channels and watched a mother introducing her newborn baby girl to her five year old brother, and that teensy part of me stirred and whispered........ "Awwww.... I want another baby".

It's the hormones.

So right now. Even though I'm very glad for them, and it's nice to know that they're all in working order. I hate them.

Stupid hormones.