13 Feb 2017

Keyboard Warriors

Last week I was privy to another Jess go through some major bullshit online after a media outlet picked up a story about her very young son getting hurt at the playground.

For those who didn't see this on various 'news' pages and the like, you can read one of them here.

Long story short, Jess' poor little boy burnt his feet on the black rubber matting at a local playground, she posted about it to warn other parents of the dangers of said playground and in the interest of helping out other parents.

No, he wasn't wearing shoes. And you can FUCK RIGHT OFF IF YOU ARE THINKING THAT THAT KID SHOULD HAVE BEEN WEARING SHOES.

Yes, children should wear shoes.  We fucking get it.  It's hot, needles, dirt, germs, snakes, cuts... blah blah blah!  Have you got small children?  Do you know how hard it is to get them to keep their bloody shoes on?!  I could NEVER get the Mushroom to keep his shoes on.  Ever!  He would pull them off in the car, as soon as we got to the park, walking around barefoot looking like an urchin all the damn time!

Hot tip, as much as we want them to keep their shoes on, kids will take them off at every damn opportunity.  That's not really the point of this post at all.

Hey Jess!  Thanks for info love, hope your little man is okay.

That is literally all that should have been said.

Instead, Jess bore the brunt of some pretty hateful comments via some 'keyboard warriors' who's children have never hurt themselves ever and have the most perfect spawn in existence.

AS IF!

If you feel like it's ok to get on a public page, and vilify another parent, when all they've done is share a warning, then you're not a good parent and you're a pretty shitty human being.

It's all well and good to scroll through your facebook page and roll your eyes, gasp, shake your head at someone's post, BUT it's quite another to stop, phrase a comment, type that comment and hit post to page.  And that's just your friends posts!  I rarely post on a public page, and even then, it's generally to share knowledge or love, not berate a total stranger and tell them what a shit parent they are. What a crappy thing to do!  If you do that shit, stop now!  Shame on you!  There are real people behind those stories and they're probably feeling shit enough as a parent without you piling on and making it worse.

I don't know Jess personally.  She is a friend of a friend.  She's also a shit-hot Mum and has an amazing facebook and insta feed that she shares with her sister Kellie.  You can find them on facebook here https://www.facebook.com/omgimthatmum/ and instagram here https://www.instagram.com/omgimthatmum/?hl=en  Go and give them some love!

Mum's, parents, we need to keep it real.  We have it hard enough, and we need to stop hating on each other and just accept that we are all in this together.  Thank people for the warnings, lend support, give constructive advice.  Don't judge, don't hate, and if you wouldn't say something to someone's face, don't say it online!!

Totally unrelated, here's a pic of my son as the Mona Lisa because lols...

6 Feb 2017

Working Mum

It's amazing how you just fall back into the swing of things.

Work, kids, housework... I'll give you one guess which of those three is lagging behind?  It's not work or kids.

I'm actually feeling pretty proud of myself.  I haven't been late to work once, I've gotten dinner on the table by 6.30 every night, I'm not buying coffee everyday. It's been ok so far, but I tell you what, the level of organisation is making me feel a bit nutso.

I hate being organised.  I'm a bit of a chaotic person.  I'm messy.  Cluttered.  Not dirty, just beautiful disarray.  Being a mother has forced me to pull my shit together.  I am up at 6 most mornings, breastfeeding a baby, showering and getting ready for work, then putting food in the slow cooker for dinner that night.  If the kids aren't awake by 7, Juffin wakes them up and gets them sorted with breakfast while I put my make-up on.  I can't go to work without make-up on. I literally can't.

I pack two lunchboxes the night before.  Lunchbox fillers include oat biscuits, banana bread or muffins, leftover pizza, sausage rolls, cheese, yoghurt, corn cobs, beetroot, olives, ham and cheese sandwiches, vegemite crackers, rice snacks, hummus, and fruit.  Most of the above is homemade.

I then organise Molly's milk.  She doesn't drink much during the day, thank goodness, so I can get away with sending 300mls of breast milk separated into 3 bottles.  I send a spare just in case,  I pump at work and in the evening just before bed.  Last week I donated 2 litres of breast milk to a lady who's baby has ties and won't feed properly.  I couldn't fit anymore in my freezer.

I take meat out for dinner the next day tidy up the lunchbox filling mess.  I also get some snacks together for myself to take to work.

I fold and snap nappies together and make sure I have enough for the day at daycare.  I pack a minimum of 10 nappies, even though they will probably only use 4 or 5.  You never know with babies. I check that she has enough wipes and bum cream and put an extra wetbag in just case.

I check Mushroom's bag and make sure he has his hat, sunscreen and shoes.

I wash and fill all the kids drink bottles, 7489 and counting, and put them in the fridge.

I then sit down to watch TV whilst I fold the washing.

Before bed, around 10.30, I pump and chat to my friends on facebook.  I finish pumping and wash up the rest of the dishes and put powder in the dishwasher.  I find Juffin in his study and say goodnight.

In bed I chat to my friends on messenger until I realise it's nearly 11 and my eyes are falling out of my head.  I turn the light off and settle down to sleep.

Just as I'm drifting off Molly starts squawking and Juffin goes in to try and settle her.  I always lay awake waiting for her to be quiet before I can go to sleep.  Sometimes it doesn't happen.  Like last night, I was up with her until after 1.  She wasn't having a bar of Daddy at all.

When I finally crawl back into bed I am exhausted.  Juffin tries to cuddle me but I'm too tired to move.

5 hours later I get up and do it all over again...  and I only work 2.5 days.

I salute you working Mums.  You are all fucking awesome and you deserve a pat on the back.

I'll also give a shout out to my Juffin, a man who walks in the door after a long, hot day, and is often greeted by an angry Mum who's had enough.  Thank you for working hard, thank you for trying, and thank you for never uttering a word of complaint.

Such a goodlooking bunch!

23 Jan 2017

Return

This morning I returned to work.

I spent the better part of my weekend baking, cooking, cleaning, washing, folding, ironing labels, pumping milk and getting organised.

I even pre-packed the slow cooker and put it in the fridge so all I had to do was put it in the case and turn it on.

Of course, because that's how these things work, at 11pm, just as I was crawling into bed, my daughter wakes up.

At first it's a little mewling here and there and then she's quiet.  We think that she's just having a yell and has gone back to sleep when the full blown screaming starts.  And I mean screaming.  Miss Molly has inherited Mum's lungs.

Juffin goes in and sees if he can settle her with a cuddle and a song.

Yes, he sings to her, I don't know what he sings but it works, most of the time.

Anyway, she settles quickly and goes back to sleep.  I go back to bed and try and relax, mentally running through all the things that I have to do in the morning to get to work on time.

The screaming starts again, she has realised Dad has gone.

He tries again but she's all worked up now and is not having a bar of it.

I go in.  I sing, I cuddle, I bum pat and hum, I lay on the floor next to her cot.

The crying continues.

It's now after midnight.

Administer paracetamol.

Juffin takes over again and I go back to bed and lay down but who can sleep with a baby screaming?

At 1am I go in and feed her so we can all get some bloody rest.  Boob and babies usually equals sleep but in this case it's not happening.  At 1.30 I give up.

She is fed, she is dry, she is loved, she is a shit and she needs to go the fuck to sleep.

I walk out and shut the door.

Screaming continues for another 15 minutes before Juffin can't take it any longer and he goes back in.  Exhausted I fall asleep.  It's after 2.

I have no idea what time Juffin finally gets into bed because I wake with a start to sun streaming in on my face and freaking out that my alarm has stopped working.  Alas it's only 5.  Unfortunately I then just lay there, unable to go back to sleep for fear I won't wake up in time to get myself and the kids ready for work and daycare.

So my first day back.  I have maybe 3.5-4 hours sleep.  My makeup melts off before I even get out the door, Mushroom is attempting world record as slowest shoe putterer on-nerer and Molly won't co-operate with nappy cream application and/or nappy snapping.

I am yelling, it's 7.50 and I wanted to be leaving by this time.  Kids don't care.  I throw my work clothes on and I herd slowest small human alive into vehicle and then load the 17000 bags that contain the necessary items to get my kids through the day and we get in the car.

Sweat is dripping off my face and I make it to the roundabout before I realise that I've left my glasses behind and I can't be staring at a computer screen all day with no glasses.  I have to go back to get them.  I turn around and burn back to the house.

"Why are we going back home Mummy?"

"Because I'm a fucking idiot" I grunt under my breath.

"What Mummy?  What you say?"

"Mummy forgot her glasses darling. I just have to go back and get my bloody glasses.."

I locate glasses.  As I'm rushing around my tummy grumbles and I find that my toast is still sitting on the bench uneaten so I grab that and I also spy my coffee.

Coffee that has not yet been consumed.

That's why my brain isn't working. Not enough caffeine. The 3.5 hours sleep has nothing to do with it....

Here's where I would talk about dropping my daughter off at daycare for the first time but I may cry.  So I won't.  I really wanted to find my girl a small family daycare, just like I did for Mushroom, but it just didn't happen. I couldn't find anywhere close enough and driving all the way across town and doing a separate drop off with Mushroom wouldn't work.

I'm not saying that the centre is bad, it's just not what I would have preferred for my baby girl.

Anyway we survived, she survived, she slept, she ate, she cried.  I got blisters because I haven't worn shoes in so long...

Our little bubble has burst and on Wednesday we do it all again...

We're not tired.  Sleep is for the weak!