Sometimes I feel like a mum. I feel proud achievement when I transform Timmy from a crying bundle of discontentment, to peaceful and happy. But then on Friday afternoons I meet with other mums and babies from my antenatal class, where I feel so unlike the rest of them...
It’s not just toddlers and middle-aged men who get excited at shiny new toys. Our new camera arrived yesterday — a Panasonic Lumix TZ20 — and I’m so pleased with it! A cynic would say it’s too early to make that call, since I haven’t tried its video function yet,...
It’s probably bad form to liken one’s child to an executioner, but in the last few days he’s let the noose around me loosen a little. It used to be that if he was awake, I needed to be entertaining him — but now he’s happy to let me...
Raising a child is a highly contentious activity — countless women are more than ready to point out the merits and sins of any mothering method one cares to think of, and surely no issue is more divisive than the question of food source. The last thing I wanted...
The reason my bundle of baby is often so grumpy is because he has a tough moonlighting job. You’d be grumpy too if you’d been defending galaxies from dastardly hostiles all night, then came home to someone insisting you hoist your legs up so they can get a nappy...
It occurred to me today as I stared despondently at my open dresser drawer, that getting dressed shouldn’t be the hardest part of my morning. The laundry room has a heap of items waiting for me to sort through into categories of ‘Try-to-get-this-stain-out’ and ‘Don’t-even-bother’ piles, and yet the...
With his colic sufficiently sedated, Timmy’s been presentable enough for us to make two voluntary public appearances this week. This was as much an unfamiliar and daunting prospect for me as for him, I imagine. We’ve been housebound so long (in a gracious effort to keep his screams from...
The only difference between arrogant self-absorption and healthy self-expression is whether the listener is being paid to hear you or not. I get the occasional visit from a nurse who works in mental health. The purpose of her visit is straightforward: she comes to hear me talk all about...
I never saw the light at the end of the tunnel coming. All of a sudden I found myself in blinding sunlight, wondering if the struggle was really, truly over, or if the tunnel just had an absurdly large skylight. My little bundle of anything-but-joy ordinarily has a very...
The ambience of our home rivals that of Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. It’s so cold that I can hear my fingers creaking as the bones grate against my crystallised flesh. (There may have been slight exaggeration in there, for literary flavour. It’s allowed.) The cryogenic effects have made it...
Forgive my recent lack of blog posts, but recently all kinds of things hit the proverbial fan, culminating in my spending the last week with Timmy in hospital, with no Internet access. My mood and ability to cope with Timmy has its highs and lows, but I’d noticed that...
I had been of two minds about whether to post this entry, but eventually concluded I had no good reason not to. Blogging, for me, has an emotionally cathartic effect — I do it more for myself than for my readers. So when I confront something particularly challenging, it...
If I wasn’t there when he arrived, I’d think my baby isn’t actually my baby. It’s a popular notion that a mother and child are supposed to have some kind of magic woo-woo link, that enables the mother to know, from the other side of town, when her child...
The last week, I believe, has been the hardest of my parenting experience. This entry’s image depicts an event that now seems as rare as phoenix sightings. Timmy has outdone himself in his extended screaming abilities. A large part of the problem, I believe, is wind. He simply won’t...
When Timmy and I were prescribed antibiotics after being exposed to a hospital worker who contracted whooping cough, the hospital neglected to inform me a possible side affect of the drug for infants is gut surgery, while adults may only have a more mild response of puking until they...
I’m caught up in fierce political warfare. It turns out that typical loyalists of either demand feeding or schedule feeding are not content to regard their strategy as a preference — it’s the right way, and mothers in the other camp are foolish, inefficient, and worst of all, wrong. Demand feeding...
Just when you think all is right with the world, the sky falls down. It must have been naive hope that had me thinking a dummy would solve all of my problems. For a while though, it seemed it had. While not on a strict schedule, Timmy’s feedings had...
My son is making a liar out of me. I’d confessed that behind my polite happy face (the one I’d use with customers at work; the one that smiles and would say ‘I’m fine, thanks’, even if a jet engine fell on my house), I really wasn’t coping with...
Wow. The last week has lasted a hundred years. Despite my fears that Bump was getting prepared to settle in utero for the upcoming winter (I’d been experiencing no pre-labour signs as his due date approached), so would be forcibly evicted by induction, he arrived on his own terms...
It seemed manifestly unfair (albeit unsurprising) that my resolve to Stress Less about all matters regarding Bump would be tested so soon after deciding it. I’d been booked in for another ultrasound at the hospital, two weeks after the last. This was just to make sure that Bump was...
I’m sure the perky endorsement ‘Stress Less!’ wasn’t invented by my former flatmate (who will never die of a high blood pressure), but I attribute my own introduction to the words, to her. She would often say it to me when I was worked up or anxious over something...
I’ve been able to ascertain a few facts about Bump already, even though we haven’t met yet. Clearly, he’s part ninja, having no respect for physical boundaries. On numerous occasions it’s felt like he’s trying to punch his way out. This, partnered with his frequent restlessness, tells me he’s...
Baby shower gifts tend to follow along the same line: bibs, onesies, toys… So when my imaginative sister contemplated unconventional alternatives, it didn’t take her long to come up with the idea of a belly painting — essentially, commercial face-painting. Except for the ‘face’ part. I’d heard of such...
Day One of my maternity leave does not bode well for the next five weeks. I’m so bored my heart rate is approaching cryogenic levels. I’d expected to feel bored at some point, before Bump arrived. I just didn’t expect it immediately upon arriving home from my last shift...
