|Thanks for nothing, Lucy.|
- The tiler has not shown up this week. That's two weeks now. At this rate we could have had any tiler wanted, instead of the one who will 'fit us in no worries'. FFS.
- The front half of my house smells vaguely like septic because there's no a) bathroom door or b) tiles on the wall to let there be a toilet in the floor. Mr S has gone to great lengths today to ensure that the smell is gone by putting a something something cap in the floor. FFS.
- At least, I think the house smells like septic. My head is so blocked up I'm not entirely sure. FFS.
- Although, I could certainly smell that nappy this morning... FFS.
- I thought Mr S was either a) waiting for me to get home and deal with said nappy or b) finishing his cup of tea. It turned out to be c) When I went to change the nappy, he came in brandishing an extra pack of wipes and preparing to entertain M
and hold her down. He said 'Sorry, you'll need help with that.' He was right. OMG. FFS.
- We also have no firewood. Mr S told the woodman that we were almost out and he assured us he'd bring some 'later in the week'. Lo and behold, later in the week and no wood. It's also freaking breath-vapour cold outside. I am running an electric heater on low so we do not freeze. FFS.
- Related: I got the power bill last week for the winter quarter. It appears that our Rheem Heat Pump Hot Water has not been working again. FFS.
- I have no clothes that fit. No wait, that's a lie. There's a pair of maternity jeans, three maternity shirts and one of Mr S' jumpers. I have trackies that don't stay up and shirts that don't reach the trackpants. I have a perma-frozen patch of under-bump skin. FFS.
- Related: I am going to a wedding in QLD in three weeks time. FFS.
- M lives in Tantrum City approximately 40% of the time at the moment. Yesterday's doozy was caused by me picking her up from daycare. As in, we had to leave daycare. Ummmm.....? FFS.
- This week my Dr mentioned they'd like another ultrasound for bub at 34 weeks. I was all 'oh yeah, no worries. MONTHS away.' He was all 'So, that's in 5 weeks time.' I guess this means I'm having a baby FAIRLY BLOODY SHORTLY THEN. Oh dear. FFS.
- I shouldn't complain, I feel like I've been and will be pregnant forever. FFS.
- I certainly look like I've been pregnant forever. A delivery driver at work helpfully asked me two weeks ago 'So, almost any day now huh?'. I replied in my Caps Lock voice 'ANOTHER TWELVE WEEKS THANKS VERY MUCH.' FFS.
- While I was doing my new preggo exercise DVD on the weekend, M helpfully sat on the floor next to me and lifted up my shirt to pat my belly. Thanks, kid. FFS.
- Our brand new fridge got delivered, finally. That's a whole other blog post. FFS.
Shiny Things Friday
|After a shitty day last week, Mr S surprised me with this after dinner.|
|My new iron. If it were possible to divorce and remarry...|
|The child proof gate to the bathroom... is not. Oops.|
|At the park!|
|I have found a use for my old iPhone 3GS. Seriously, best fabric weight ever.|
|New polish. It's delightful but will be a pain to remove. I can tell.|
|One of my many forgotten cups of tea. When I'm at home, my ratio|
for making: drinking is approximately 3:1.
|My first lot of clips about to make their way to a new home!|
|See the pretty glittery nails? It's like a disco party on my hands.|
|Making. I'm enjoying this fabric so much, I think I'll have troubles|
giving the finished product away.
R U Ok?
At various times in my life I’ve felt anxious. I’ve felt depressed. I’ve been unable to get out of bed. I’ve cried by myself and I’ve cried in the arms of those who love me. I’ve wondered fleetingly if it’s all worth it. (yes, it is. the answer is always yes.) Then, I open my eyes, I blow my nose, I push the doona covers back and I stand up. Sometimes on shaky legs, but I stand up and I find a kernel of sunshine in my day. This is now easier, as I don’t need to look very far to find a (kernel) 8kg fat roll of sunshine.
It seems fitting that as I sat down to write this I realised that next Thursday is
Since becoming a mother everything, EVERYTHING, touches me tenfold. We can no longer watch the news as we eat dinner as stories of starving children send us both dissolving into tears. I couldn’t watch a show on September 11 last night because all I could think about was what the people stuck in those towers were thinking… their families? What were they thinking?
Today I held someone close and whispered in her ear that she’s ALWAYS worth it. Always.
On my drive home to pick up my daughter from Play School today I couldn’t help but reinforce into my own head that along with all the responsibilities I’d realised already, there was another one. I will always be fundamentally ‘OK’ for Millie.
Following Millie’s birth I had times where I wasn’t okay and I wondered if I ever would be again. And the guilt following that. And the guilt of wondering why I was looking at the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen and not feeling much at all. Then one day she smiled at me, and I began to heal.
What has helped me exponentially in these times is being able to communicate with others who sometimes ask ‘Are you okay?’, and sometimes they don’t need to.
When I think about
day now, as a parent, I think it’s more important than ever. It breaks my heart into a million pieces to think that for every person that takes their life there is a parent wondering why. Because in every parent’s eyes their child is always a tiny newborn in their arms whom you need to guide and protect, and ask RU OK?
Whilst today’s hyper-connected society can be isolating it can also be wonderfully supportive. I have a brilliant Facebook mother’s group who hold my hand from time to time, and I hold theirs. I have an astonishingly wonderfully supportive bunch of Twitter friends (Twitterati) who are always there, and have been there in person as well. And when you live in the sticks and are a bit crowd shy like I do and am, this is super important and I am so grateful.
Friends, my point is to take some time on any given day and chat to someone who perhaps you couldn’t find the time to previously. You could make their day and help them find the light out of a dark place. And remember, you are always worth it. Always.
If you need to talk to someone call
24hrs/day on 13 11 14. You can also talk to someone at
on 1300 22 46 36. And don’t forget to have a look at
(this photo is taken at Taupo. When I’m feeling sad face, I go to my ‘happy place’, which is my NZ honeymoon last year. I miss the North Island so much.)
The first day of winter is here. Coinciding with Millie being ten weeks old today. This picture is taken from my bedroom and the white you see is fog. Fast forward an hour and the fog hasn’t lifted yet. It’s very chilly and Millie and I are snuggled up inside with Lucy supervising the fire. I confess winter makes me sad this year. I think I always struggle with the first few weeks because I get cold. As in on some level I refuse to believe it’s winter and therefore never wear enough clothes. It takes a few weeks for my body to sigh and come to grips with the cooler weather.
I yearn for springtime. To feel the warm air on my upper arms and my face, to feel a warm breeze and to see the garden bloom again. Is this a lesson in living in the now?
In springtime Millie will be almost 6 months old. And rolling, perhaps thinking about crawling. This morning Hubs and I sat in bed eating breakfast with Millie sitting up against the pillows between us. Ten weeks ago she was born and was a tiny, helpless being. Now she’s sitting up, still relatively helpless but chatting away, starting to intentionally move her hands and grinning like a demon. The passing of time is swift.
In these first really hard weeks there’s been a quote from Gretchen Rubin’s book ‘The Happiness Project’ that has stuck with me.
The days are long, but the years are short.
Just so you know I can talk about things other than babies. Like cats. (Hold your horses folks, this gal’s a firecracker! What controversial topic will she talk about next?)
Lucy has coped quite well with Millie’s arrival. She avoided me like the plague for the first four weeks but has been integrating into our new lifestyle quite well. Or have we been re-assimilating into her lifestyle?
I think that Lucy has moved through the many stages of grief and has arrived at acceptance. Acceptance that the small furless noisy cat isn’t leaving. Acceptance that if you awaken a sleeping Mummy to notify her that said small furless noisy cat is waking up (often an hour before this happens) you will be forcibly ejected from the bedroom. Acceptance that sometimes your bowl is empty and your humans need a gentle reminder that you haven’t been fed today and are quite honestly wasting away to nothing.
Lucy’s also started hanging out with Millie and I during the day. Like, needing to be part of the action. Millie’s on Mummy’s lap? I NEED TO BE ON MUMMY’S LAP TOO. Millie and Mummy are having a snooze in the bed? I WILL BE ON THE BED TOO. Possibly in a highly inconvenient spot. Like the middle.
She’s very tender and sweet with Millie and I’m not in the slightest bit concerned about leaving her alone in the room with Millie. I think Millie would boof Lucy before Lucy would be any kind of trouble.
Big Sister Cat, you rock my world.