Wednesday, December 31, 2008

SMSs sent and received, 14th and 15th January 2008...

Rochelle: Just had my waters broken! It's all happening. (14/01/08, 19:44)

Emily: Good luck Shelly! I'll be thinking about you OK. Love you. (14/01/08 19:45)

Renee: Oh my god. Am so excited for you! Good luck and I look forward to hearing more news. Renee xx (14/01/08 19:45)

Alicia: Great news. Stay strong and safe delivery. I'll never forget bub's b'day if born tomorrow. It's my wedding anniversary. xoxo (14/01/08 19:47)

Kez: Wooohooo! Go you good thing. Good luck! Oh how exciting! (14/01/08 19:55)

Ez: Yay yay yay! Good luck, you'll be fabulous. (14/01/08 20:04)

Elise: I am so so so excited! I don't think I've ever been this excited! And you are so calm. You are amazing! (14/01/08 20:16)

Alana: Wow! So exciting! You are going to do great. My phone is broke so this is Ben's number. Love you xo (14/01/08 20:33)

Kez: Is it out yet? Just kidding. How am I supposed to sleep? Just think, tomorrow, what a great day! (14/01/08 20:34)

Tess: Wow! You'll be great! Remember the pain will end. Let me know (14/01/08 20:59)

Jade: What's happening? Is everything OK? I don't know if I'm going to be able 2 sleep 2nite from excitement! (14/01/08 22:24)

Rochelle: Otis James is here! He is perfect. Born at 2:25am, 3940g and 54.5cm. He has hair! And huge feet. We are thrilled. (15/01/08 03:55)

Alison: Congratulations xxxxx love Alison Michael Joshua Samara and James (15/01/08 03:59)

Elise: I am so so happy for you! Congratulations! Amazing! I hope you are all fantastic and can't wait to see you all (15/01/08 04:07)

Katrina: Congratulations. I'm thrilled for you. Enjoy your little man (15/01/08 04:08)

Alicia: Well done and congratulations. Can't wait to meet him xoxo (15/01/08 04:08)

Kez: I told you I couldn't sleep! Congratulations all 3 of you! Can't wait to meet Lil Otis. Enjoy the cuddles! (15/01/08 04:08)

Ez: Congratulations to you both! He sounds perfect. I can't wait to meet him. I hope you got through it OK xxx (15/01/08 04:10)

Tess: I am so happy 4u guys. Congrats. Can't wait to meet him. Big hugs 2 u and him. I bet he's absolutely beautiful. Love 2 u all xoxoxoxox (15/01/08 04:11)

Jade: Oh my goodness! Congratulations! I love love love the name. He's already tall for his age! I hope your not too sore. Luv u all xxx (15/01/08 04:14)

Mum: I am so so proud of you and Phil too! You were amazing and my grandson is perfect! I love you very much and welcome to the exclusive group that is motherhood! (15/01/08 05:11)

Brett: Congrats to you both, very happy for you guys, looking forward to meeting your little man! Brett (15/01/08 08:00)

Rhiann: Congratulations guy! Wonder what took little Otis so long? When do you think you'll be home? I can't wait to meet Otis, but I'd rather come and see you in hospital and let you settle into life at home uninterrupted. This great guys, well done xxx (15/01/08 08:56)

Renee: Congratulations! I am so excited and happy for you all. I can't wait to meet your new little man! Renee x (15/01/08 09:08)

Ez: Good morning mummy daddy and otis. I hope you're feeling ok this morning, it must have been a big night. congratulations again, it's so exciting xxx (15/01/08 09:29)

Alana: Congratulations! So happy for you both! Can't wait to see you! Beautiful name! (15/01/08 09:54)

Katie: Congratulations Rochelle! I can't wait to meet your beautiful son. Kristen said you were amazing. Look forward to catching up with the new Hammond family xox (15/01/08 10:16)

Bart: Congratulations Rochelle and Phil! Can't wait to see him! (15/01/08 10:17)

Mark: Congratulations darl!!! Hope you're feeling OK and hope Otis James is well... And Phil... See you soon (15/01/08 10:19)

Lan: I love you so much. Am quite sure the most amazing birth ever. I am the proudest sister ever. You were unbelievable and a bit funny also. I'm in love the the cutest baby alive! You did it! (15/01/08 11:26)

Otis' First Christmas

The day certainly failed to match my expectations. It was lovely, so lovely, to wake up on Christmas morning all snuggled up with my little man. I breathed in his yumminess, and remembered Christmas 2007, the impatience and fear and desire. I had no idea. None.

After waking up at around 6, Phil, Otis and I emptied our stockings (a team effort, made by Katrina, Phil and I), to find lots of chocolate-y delights. Otis enjoyed a foil-covered Santa and a foil-covered teddy bear for breakfast! I had also included a car t-shirt, some rubber Halloween bats, some jungle animal figurines, and a very special, Bonds chesty, featuring a custom-made 'Dad' tattoo transfer — I gave Phil a matching tattoo-emblazoned chesty. His, of course, read 'Otis'.

We headed over to Mum's, and all sat around the tree, opening gifts with gusto. Otis was given a rocking giraffe (Santa), a box of Duplo (us), a Dr Seuss book (us), a bubble (Santa), a spinning Elmo chair (Mum), a kick/boogie board (Bart), a Bananas in Pyjamas ball (Mum), some Christmas bibs (Jord), a Baby Genius San Diego zoo DVD (Lan), a bath toy (Lan). Then at Noelene's he received a book and a football (Noelene), money for the WeeRide, which we purchased yesterday (Noelene), a pull-along puppy (Ben and Kim) and a Reebok tracksuit (Sandra).

He was very cute in his Santa suit — complete with the words Ho, Ho, Ho on the bum — but VERY clingy (I heard no end of it from Harvey, as per usual) and very tired. It was all just too much. He slept for 2.5 hours in the middle of the day, which gave me time to enjoy my meal and talk to other adults. But he was dreadful again by dinner time. Not a happy boy.

Maybe next year will be different!

Monday, December 22, 2008

Communication...

Otis is starting to communicate so much effectively! It's so much fun. Finally, I have a bit more insight into his mind... I am getting acquainted with him on a whole new level. I love it.

He now waves the moment he hears the words "bye bye" or "goodnight" uttered. His waves vary in style, enthusiasm and effort — if he's feeling lazy, or, perhaps, a little reserved, he simply flops his hand about, the movement only starting at the wrist. This is minimum effort, maximum cuteness. At other times the whole arm flaps up and down madly, accompanied by a manic cackle and massive, toothy smile. Sometimes the whole body moves as well — this is more of a goodbye dance. He waves to all and sundry — me, Phil, Grandma, the ladies at the fruit shop, characters on the TV screen.

The biggest development, which has occurred only this last week, is that he is now pointing. He points in awe at things beautiful and bold — a squawking cockatoo, the black and gold taped telegraph wires that hang above the crossing on Morts Rd, Christmas ornaments... Dare I say it? Me! He points because he wants to get closer to whatever it is he's selected. This is, most often, me. He's very clingy again all of a sudden. His happiest moment is when he climbs on top of me after waking in the morning, we lie there, chest-to-chest, cheek-to-cheek, and breathe against one another. He often strokes my face, pulls my hair. Sucks furiously on his dummy. I've never been on the receiving end of such infatuation before!

Another thing he's doing now is mimicking us. He's far from accurate, but there's no mistaking it. I say "byyyyyyye" and he says "baa". It's the start of something...

He's shaking his head more too. Mostly when I try to feed him and he's not interested, or when I ask him to give me something ("Ta, Otis"), or when I tell him not to do something naughty.

At 11 months he weighs 10.4kg and is 78cm tall.

Friday, December 19, 2008

The selfish side of parenting...

This is an idea I have for a freelance piece, so I'll only be very brief in communicating it here.

There is a notion that mothering is the pinnacle of selflessness. How untrue this is. In some ways, it brings out my worst, most selfish side — it reveals this to me, and, also, perhaps, my son.

I am a mother because I wanted to be. I fantasised night and day about snuggling up to a warm little body, about carting around a cute little face — a cute little face I created. I relished the spectacle of my pregnancy. I felt smug about my ability to conceive and carry my baby to term.

Me, me, me, me, me...

I could go on.

Why is it that I love him ever so slightly more when he's asleep?

Right now he's sleeping on our bed — his bed, too, I guess — next to his Daddy, who's reading. He's sprawled out, sweaty and absolutely stunning.

Friday, December 5, 2008

Things I love about Otis...

I love his long hair, the white gold threads that cover his ears and curl at the nape of his neck.

I love his two scarily sharpened bottom teeth, the teeth he exposes whenever he smiles.

I love his fits of giggles. His face splits in two and widens. His cheeks redden and his eyes sparkle.

I love his sturdy little legs, legs that allow him to stand with assistance, to crawl at a furious rate, to climb, to pull himself up whilst holding onto my jeans. He stares up at me beseechingly, innocently, as if he knows how irresistable he is.

I love the way he forces complete strangers to interact with him. He coos and laughs and stares until they respond in kind. He's definitely not shy!

I love the way he shakes his head when he's had enough breastmilk or food. He closes his eyes, smiling, seemingly so satisfied in the knowledge that he is communicating with me.

I love his searching toe. I love that he has a searching toe. Phil says its searching for Mama...

I love that he now sleeps so well during the day. His day sleeps are predictable and easy. One 1.5 hour morning nap, and one 1 hour afternoon nap. Perfect.

I love his reaction to other children. The joy and excitement is palpable. He kicks his legs, waves his arms, grins and hyperventilates. You can't miss it. This gives me confidence in my decision to book him into Occy's Place for next year. I know he'll be just fine.

I love that, when he's in the mood, he'll now wave goodbye.

I love cuddling him, warm and stunningly pretty, during the night while we sleep. I used to want him out of our bed — now I cherish the fact that he's still in it, for much of each night, knowing just how much I'll miss it when it no longer happens.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

Australia...

I saw it last night. Rarely has a film made such an emotional impact on me. I guess mother/son scenarios move me that much more since having Otis. In the film, Nicole Kidman's character becomes something of a mother to the gorgeous, endearing little Nulla, and has to eventually face up to, not only his Aboriginality, but, more significantly for me, his maturation. He has to "go walkabout", to become a man.

I have been thinking so much about Otis getting older, getting bigger, becoming a boy as opposed to a baby. It makes me sad. I want him to stay attached to me, to continue to adore me and crave my affection and nearness, to always be as physically close to me as he is now. I don't want him to get tall and pimply and hairy and sarcastic. But I know that one day he will. And of course, one day I just know I'll be so proud of the man he becomes. But right now I am trying to savour his smallness.

He's not that small! He's nearly 10 kg at 10 months of age. His weight gain slowed down a little over the last month, I think because he went through a phase wherein refusing food was something of a game to him. He's back to eating lots and often. He's 76 cm tall, still quite tall for his age. I bought him his first proper pair of shoes, little black Dunlop Volleys, and they look incredibly cute paired with a slogan tee and jeans or cargos. I really do love dressing him! In him I get to assemble the kind of outfits I'd wear if I were male.

He's been crawling properly now for about 2 weeks. He's quick and sometimes, a bit like a 4WD, just drives straight through/over whatever is in his way. He sometimes waves goodbye now, and will sometimes pass something to me if I ask and put my hand out. He also shakes his head "no" if he's had enough food or boob. His hair is getting long to the point that people are frequently mistaking him for a girl — luckily this doesn't phase me.

Friday, November 14, 2008

Sleep at 10 months of age...

Two steps forward, one step back. There is always something.

This week Otis has had two wonderful, restful nights, only waking once or twice, which has been such a change. Of course, I miss him when he's in his cot, as much as I am desperate for him to stay asleep in it longer. Oh, there's no logic.

Anyway, he's falling asleep in the evening fairly easily, with the help of Sammy the Seahorse and lots of patting. Oh, and a breastfeed, of course. But the day sleeps are another thing altogether. He's staying awake for 4 hour periods, so 7-11, sleep for 45-90 minutes, the awake from 12ish-4ish, then sleeping 'til 5:30!! This is too late. It then puts his bedtime back to 9 or so, which means I get no TV time, so non-mothering time, and it absolutely sucks. I am so drained right now, after a long evening.

The other thing with the day sleeps is the amount of time and stress I am putting into settling him to sleep. He just wants to roll around in his cot, sit up, stand up, hold on to the bars, and laugh. It is incredibly draining and frustrating. Sometimes tear-inducing. I hope it's just a phase...

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Speak up, speak up!!

Hmmm... Since people in my life started having babies, I have come to realise that I am not alone in the struggles I face on a daily basis. Yes, to the outside world they are all happy, happy, joy, joy too, but I know what goes on behind closed doors, and it bears an eerie resemblance to what goes on here.

I just wish mothers would speak up more about how hard it is to be a mum! Please, I beg of you, stop pretending. It is so wrong, all this pretence and posturing. All it does it make other women feel like abject failures.

I am so glad I finally worked this out. My new enlightened state is fantastic! I know, now, that most babies spend at least some of the night in their mummys' beds, that everyone, no matter how intelligent/confident/maternal/capable finds some aspects of mothering "challenging" (read, impossible, and that things get better.

Speaking of getting better, Otis slept 8-2 in his cot last night!!? This is totally unprecedented.

He's been eating some yummy food of late. Last night I pureed canellini beans, chicken thighs pan-fried with garlic, spinach from our potted garden, and olive oil, and he couldn't get enough. He's also loving a coconut and vanilla custard I'm making. Here's the recipe for anyone interested:

Combine 1 tsp vanilla essence, 1 1/2 tsp caster sugar, 3 tsp dessicated coconut, 5 heaped tsp rice flour/ground rice and 300ml milk in a saucepan. Stir over medium heat until it reaches the desired consistency. This does Otis for 3 nights of dessert!

Monday, November 3, 2008

Thoughts on being a "working" mother...

Although my work is entirely unpaid, at present, I am feeling the strain of being pulled in numerous directions, and the guilt that inevitably comes of spending time away from one's babe. I have lots of little deadlines to deal with, as well as, of course, one major deadline — a submission date. I have been working any chance I get these past couple of weeks, and Mum has been a huge help, taking Otis for a few afternoons last week as well as all day Wednesday, as per usual. The upside is that I get time away from him to focus on my writing. The downside is that I feel bad for offloading him, jealous of the time Mum has with him, and lonely as hell without him.

I keep catching myself wishing I had nothing else but mothering with which to occupy my time. But then, would I still be me? Writing and researching and thinking, thinking, thinking is such a part of who I am. And I think having that time away, as busy and stressful and non-relaxing as it is, helps me to be able to focus entirely on Otis when I am not working on my thesis. It adds to my own sometimes skewed sense of self-worth, and connects me to the real world, or, rather, my old world, a world that didn't include dummies, breastfeeding and patting a wriggling child to sleep.

Friday, October 31, 2008

The birth of my niece, Isla!

Yesterday was a most unforgettable day. I was woken at 6:30, not by my little man, but by a phone call from Adam. Apparently, Lan thought she might be in labour. "It hurts!!", she said. As soon as I heard that, I started making plans. Phil called school and told them he wouldn't be in, I showered and pumped and headed off to Sutherland Hospital with Mum.

Katie, Adam, Mum and I were Lan's support team, but, to be honest, I'm pretty sure they could have done it without me. I felt a bit redundant, not having the midwifery knowledge that Mum and Katie do. I found it incredibly difficult to see my little sister in such pain. I didn't know I'd feel that way. I was stunned by how frustrating helpless, how very despondent and fearful I was feeling. Maybe it was because the pain is still quite real to me, I really empathised, knowing that it would only get worse, knowing she still had to push. It seemed so abjectly unfair — why should my sister have to go through that? Why should anybody? I hate it when midwives carry on about how beautiful and lovely the birth process is — yes, the actual delivery is a moment that can't be matched, but the (in this case, 11 hour lead up) is agonising, fraught and so very, very long. It's horrendous. There's no other word for it, and I would feel negligent in describing it any other way.

Everything started off textbook smooth. Lan laboured at home for about 3 or 4 hours, and was 4cm dilated on arrival. She then jumped in the shower, used the gas, and had a bath, and contractions were strong and regular, but she was coping. Then, much to our surprise and disappointment, we were told she had only progressed 1cm. Upon hearing that, she became slightly defeated, and stressed, and anxious, and, of course, the pain became unbearable, in light of the fact that she still had so much more of it to endure.

But once she hit 6cm, things really took off. Isla was born in the bath, after only 40 minutes of pushing, and her purplish little face let out a big healthy cry almost immediately. Lan's relief was palpable, and there was so much joy in the room. Isla is just perfect — 3550g, 50cm, 34cm head circumference, and a full head of hair. She looks like Adam from the nose down, but has Lan's eyes. She's little and pretty and, most importantly, healthy. I don't know if I'll ever witness a birth ever again — giving birth is just not the same as witnessing it — not sure whether I could. I'll never forget yesterday, and never forget the courage displayed by my beautiful, strong, capable sister.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Things are good. Great!

We are a very happy twosome... I know we're actually a threesome, Phil, Otis and I, but most of the time it's Oat Boy and Mama, one-on-one. And it's great! Last night I fed him to sleep, which was bliss after a few weeks of crying and extended patting (me) and hair-pulling (him). He only woke up twice, snuggled up to me keeping me warm on one of the coldest October days in Sydney's history, and made that angelic little pouty face that he does when he sleep. I must take a photo of that...

He's getting faster and more daring with his bizarre, chest-dragging crawl. Phil calls him the carpet shark.

Eating quite a bit — new things this week include blueberries and Magnum! Hmmm... Only a very occasional treat. He's worked out that he loves chocolate, though. I was ripping open a Freddo the other day, and he started gasping as soon as he heard the tear and saw the milky brown goodness!

I am a little stressed simply because I am so damn busy. Trying my best to finish this chapter, care for him, keep house, and maintain relationships!

Friday, October 17, 2008

Drained... But OK.

Not only does Otis sleep poorly and thus leave Phil and I both rather exhausted, but when he's awake he is just non-stop. Seriously, he is never still. He won't play for very long alone, it's usually only a matter of minutes before he's reaching out to me to hold him. And then I'll pick him up, and he'll want to get back to the toy he'd been playing with. Then he'll play again, then he'll want me again, then he won't want me. It's incredibly frustrating. I can't have a conversation, I can't eat, I can't read, I can't clean. I'm hoping once he's properly crawling and getting himself around that he'll be so busy exploring every inch of the carpet that he'll forget about being clingy to me.

His new favourite meal is a puree of canellinni beans and chicken pan-fried in garlic. He wolfed that down last night and again today for his lunch. He's still enjoying his Weet Bix with strawberry puree and milk, and loves summer fruits and Milk Arrowroots. He'll be having avocado mashed with tinned salmon for dinner tonight. Brain food for my developing boy.

Just saw Bonnie and Emily. They have to WAKE her for feeds! They HAVE TO WAKE THEIR BABY!! It is a totally different world. I have never woken Otis — well, never on purpose, there have been numerous occasions wherein I have accidentally put a saucepan down with just a tiny bit too much force and thus woken him — and can't imagine having that much time sans babe-in-arms. Just goes to show that much of the sleep issues babies have are there from the get go.

Bonnie is such a pretty girl, and she's putting on weight well. All is as it should be. I am so happy for the three of them.

Now I am just waiting for Lan to pop! Pop! It's such an odd expression. There's really no popping involved. Still feeling very strongly that little HD is a boy, but you never can know these things. 50% chance either way, I'd say!

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

How I hate to be away from him...

I am missing him terribly this morning. Now that he is just so overtly enamoured of me, it makes it at once more difficult to be around him AND more lovely. He really does adore me at the moment, last night he literally screamed when I left the room, and when he walks in the door with his Dad after a trip to the park, his smile is so huge it almost doesn't seem real. Mama, mama, mamamamamama... I love it!

Anyway, he'll be mine again tonight and we'll have plenty of cuddles and kisses.

Last night was great, after a tough afternoon. He slept 'til 12, and then 'til 3:30. An excellent night for my poor little sleeper.

Nine months old today. Wow. 3/4 of a year already gone. The best and worst year of my life, undoubtedly!

Yes, the best and WORST. It's always both at once.

Monday, October 13, 2008

I need a drink...

It just took me thirty minutes of patting to get Otis to sleep. No crying, just lots of squirming, kicking, pulling at the sheepskin, pulling my hair, and poking his feet between the cot rails.

My back hurts, my wrist and forearm hurt and I need a glass of wine like never before.

Dairy-free dieting...

No, it's not because I am keen to shed a few kilos... Although that is certainly true, weight loss has never been enough of a motivator for me to ditch the chocolate and the cheese. Mum spoke at length to a colleague of hers who also works as a mothercraft nurse. She talked to this woman about Oti's tendancy to squirm during the night. Mum and I both think it indicates discomfort of some sort. Anyway, this woman suggested trying a dairy-free diet — he and I — and see whether there is any change. Apparently lactose intolerance is quite common in babies, and lead to all sorts of tummy problems and pains. So, as much as it's hurting me, I haven't eaten any dairy products for the past two days.

Anything for my little boy, hey?!

I am in two minds about this. On the one hand, if there was a magic solution to his fractious sleeping habits, I'd be thrilled. On the other, if it does prove to be the problem, I'll either have to a) continue with the dairy-free diet, or b) put him on formula until 12 months of age. I'd feel so sad, all of a sudden denying him the boob. It would break my heart. But so, too, would Christmas without chocolate or ice cream...

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Names...

I love how people are giving their babies such funky, everything-old-is-new-again names these days. I know of an Olive, a Bonnie, a Byron, a June... Lots of lovely new little people with cool, vintage names.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Happy...

Emily gave birth to Bonnie Matilda yesterday. I am so unreservedly thrilled for the newly formed family. Just can't WAIT to meet Bonnie, and to meet Mama Emily. For it IS like being reborn. Emily WILL be different, and that's not a bad thing.

I keep thinking about what I want to say to her, what I wish had been said to me... What I keep coming back to is THROW AWAY ALL THE BOOKS. The basic factual stuff is important, but advice and the tactics and the strategies and the should, should, shoulds... I'll never consult any of that again.

I am just so happy right now. The day I decided to do what feels natural and comfortable was the day I finally felt like a good mother. I have given myself permission to make my own choices, and to have confidence in those choices. Otis is such a joy, he makes me smile and laugh and fills me with awe. When I hear him call my name — my new name, Mama, not Rochelle — I feel all warm inside, the way you do after that first glass of wine. I am so in love, and it is a beautiful, magical feeling. To quote one of Oti's favourite books — When I'm Feeling Happy, by Trace Moroney:

When I'm feeling happy, I feel B-B-BOUNCY and full of joy.

When I'm feeling happy my face feels smiley, and everything in the world feels especially wonderful...

Yesterday we took him swimming at Hurstville Aquatic Centre. He amazed me! He goes under and no longer comes up spluttering and shaken — he comes up with a smile! He kicks his little legs and can hold onto the edge all by himself, for minutes at a time. He really is clever.

He drinks from a cup unassisted now, and barely spills a drop.

He's moving more and more... I predict he'll be crawling within a week.

Friday, October 3, 2008

New things...

Otis has started shaking his head so as to indicate 'NO!' when he has enough food or water. He does it with a cheeky grin splitting his face in two. It's very cute, and very indicative of the little person he's quickly becoming.

He's climbing! He can't crawl, but, boy, he can climb. He can pull himself into a standing position, although can't stand unassisted just yet.

He says 'Mama' all the time now, whenever he wants me and can't quite reach me. Music to the ears!

For awhile now he's been picking things up with his feet, as if he's been the victim of a horrible hand amputation or something. Such a little monkey!

He eats anything and everything now... This week, for instance, he's loving hummus. He's also been fortunate enough to sample chocolate gelato, strawberry smoothie, aioli, feta and spinach dip, and lamb cutlets.

His day sleeps are so very unpredictable... This morning he slept 2 hours in his pram, and he's been asleep this afternoon for over an hour already. Yesterday he only had one sleep of 45 minutes and was absolutely fine! Routine? This boy laughs in the face of routine.

Sleeping with me from about 10/11 most nights, which I am now 100% at peace with. Phil still makes a bit of noise about re-settling him in his cot at that time, but it's just so easy this way. He's been fairly easy to re-settle when he wakes through the night, usually I can do this without feeds, it just depends.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Clingy...

One of the main changes in recent times is that Otis has gone from being happy to passed around like a parcel at a kid's birthday party to crying for his Mama whenever I leave the room! It's intense and, in many ways, unpleasant, but it is also nice to feel so very wanted and loved. These past few days he hasn't been quite so bad, perhaps because Phil is home on holidays, so we're spending less one-on-one, baby-on-Mama time. So many of the photos I've taken recently depict him with arms outstretched towards the camera, face red and concerned. He'd like me to just carry him around on my hip all day long. I, obviously, am not all that keen on that idea!

During the wedding ceremony in Noosa, Phil had to literally hide Otis so that he couldn't catch a glimpse of me. The minute he does, it's "Mamamamamama..." accompanied by a great big lurch towards me.

What bugs me most, though, are the reactions of others. Other parents generally don't say a word about it — although his Nana and Pa seem inexplicably put out by it all — but childless people love to make comments along the lines of, "Oh, what a Mummy's boy!", or "Don't be such a whinger Otis!" I know they don't understand that this is but a normal stage in a baby's development, and that, if he weren't incredibly attached to me there'd be something seriously wrong, but it still frustrates me that, even after I've explained this patiently, they continue to provide a commentary on the apparently anti-social behaviour of my boy. One such person compared him to a relative of hers — a relative who is 6 months or so older (!), and who "goes to anyone".

Why do I care? I'm not sure. I am not usually someone who cares all that much about the opinions of others, but, for some reason, when it comes to my son and my parenting, I am really sensitive. I try not to show it, but I certainly feel it. It probably has to do with my confidence, or lack thereof, as a mother. I don't know what I'm doing half the time, but I am always, always trying my very best, so comments like these can feel like a bit of a kick in the guts.

One day they'll all get it!

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

My angelic son...

Well, who would have thought.

Otis was a dream baby whilst we were holidaying in Noosa for Ez and Brett's wedding. He slept for lengthy periods — day AND night — eased up a little on the clinginess, cried rarely, smiled and laughed often, and looked adorable in his newly appropriate summer clothing. I feel so relaxed and rejuvenated after such an easy few days away. I was dreading the experience, to be honest, but it was such a happy, stress-free time. Perhaps we should just move up there? I'd do almost anything to get my baby to sleep as well as he has been.

Luckily, it appears to be continuing now that we are back home. Last night he only woke up twice! I have been putting him down at night at 8 rather than 7, perhaps this is making the difference? I have also placed a pillow in his cot — yes, I know, totally irresponsible of me, but he's big boy now, in my opinion — and have returned his cosy sheepskin as well, so maybe he's simply more comfortable. All I know is, I would be miserable too if I had to sleep sans pillow.

He fell off my bed yesterday for the first time. It scared me silly, but he is absolutely fine. I heard the thud and felt sick... His arm was twisted underneath him, but, fortunately, his head had fallen on to a pillow, breaking the fall a little.

So, things are looking up! He's with his Nana at the moment, she has him Tuesday mornings so as to a) give me some real time out (which is usually spent doing housework, unfortunately) and b) bond with him a little better.

He's just started being able to move around a bit better. He's pulling himself up on things, and can shuffle along on his chest... Not quite commando crawling, but it's progress nonetheless. It really exhausts him, he literally groans with frustration and effort.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Sleep, sleep, sleep...

Things have come to a head. For the past few days he has only slept for 30-45 minute spurts during the day, and is waking hourly for the first few hours in the evening, before coming in with me and sleeping reasonably well (not 'sleeping through', by any means, but giving me 3 hours of sleep at a time). So all day, I am getting about 3-4 hours break from him. That means he is pretty much hanging off me for 20 hours EVERY DAY. I don't remember ever signing up for attachment parenting! This is NOT what I want. I can't take it anymore.

My face is all blotchy and tired looking, my eyes all small and puffy, and my head aches from sobbing. I feel pulled between intense love, adoration for my boy — my boy who is happy and chatty and fun and beautiful, but who cannot, will not, sleep as he should — and serious, scary resentment. Why do other babies fall asleep in their cot of an evening and not wake again until the sun comes up? What are those mothers doing that I am not? Which move was it, exactly, that got us here? What the hell am I doing wrong?

I've tried innumerable approaches, none of which have worked for us. Mum believes controlled crying is the only way to fix this. But it is simply not an option for me. I am stuck, as they say, between a rock and a hard place.

I hate that, when I hear him waking and walk into his room to see his stunning, smiley, cheeky face, all I feel is frustration. I hate that so much.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Staving off PND

There. I've said it. For the past week and a bit I have been experiencing something that definitely resembles depression, but have been hesitant to label it that. But it's OK, I am OK. I am managing to hold it all together and keep my head above water. I was diagnosed with depression about 5 years ago, and was prescribed anti-depressants, and undertook Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT). The therapy was a real success, and I've implemented those strategies at numerous times in the past few years. What I learnt about the way I think has really changed me, for the better, and has allowed me to come through many stressful situations virtually unscathed.

I did the Depression Score online, and got 11, so I am just bordering on "Possible Depression". I am aware of it, and am doing everything I can to stop it from progressing any further — lots of positive, objective thinking, talking to people who are supportive, and taking time out from mothering, when I can. I think it's the combination of the hormones associated with ovulation (I've had two periods now), the tiredness (it's starting to wear me down), Oti's recent, OTT clingy behaviour (if I am in the room, I am the only one he wants!! — it was cute in the beginning), as well as the usual Gabby-related dramas... I've had a lot on my plate, emotionally. Oh yeah, the thesis too, how could I forget?!

I've been panicky, anxious, impatient — especially with Otis, which makes me so sad, irritable and flat. But the beautiful Spring sunshine and warmth, my son's toothy smile, and the support of my wonderful husband, my dear friends, my Mum and my sister, are helping to improve my mood. I am learning to value what I do each day, to take pride in the little things. It's not easy, though, to consider hanging out the washing an accomplishment, when I am used to measuring my worth in terms of publications and writing-related praise. I'll get there!

Update on Oti's progress:

— eats lumpy, mashed meals, plus large, soft pieces of bread and kiwifruit, and gobbles down Cheesesticks (the Bega ones are best)
— eats dessert (custard that I make using rice flour, caster sugar and cow's milk)
— sits, no problem
— says Dada, Mama, Baba and NO!
— enjoys playing with pots and pans
— starting, very, very slowly, to mobilise (Phil calls it the "wounded soldier crawl", and it only happens if we bait him with something shiny or colourful, like a fish to a lure)
— stands with the help of nearby inanimate objects
— plays games that involve anticipation
— has two teeth and knows how to use them!
— sleeps for at least an hour at a time during the day (yipppeeeeee), usually 2 x 1 1/2 hour sleeps per day
— charms the pants off every person he meets!!

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Love and weakness...

So, the strategy... Easier said than bloody well done. That's my verdict!

The night started smoothly. I fed him and left him to self-settle, which he did without a sound. Amazing!! But when he woke at 10:30 for a feed — he was 'asleep', but crying, and seemed hungry — he was impossible to get back down. He screamed and screamed. Phil did his very best. But how do you go on when your baby is crying so forcefully and with such desperation that there are pools of tears in the crevices of his little ears? I couldn't do it. We couldn't do it.

I did manage to hold off with the feeds though. He's not having any milk between 10 and 5. That part seems to be working, and he IS waking less frequently. But he's still in with us, which I honestly do not mind one little bit. I just love his sleepy face, his milky breath on me all night, his body folded up against mine. It's heaven.

I am working on getting him to self-settle during the day, it's a battle. It's so frustrating! To think he could do this with hardly any fuss, only a month ago. Yesterday I had PMS, and was feeling oh-so-irritable... It really broke me. It's the control thing again. I canNOT control him. I can guide him, I can try to teach him, but he's an individual person, a very separate entity with his own ideas, his own plan.

I have decided to stop beating myself up about all this. Sleep is threatening to take over my life — not the act itself, but the the thinking about it, the planning and plotting and strategising. It's crazy! Who really cares?

I feel such immense love for him that I cannot bear to see him sad, the sound of his screams just pains me, it kills me. I keep telling myself to be strong, to be tough, but when it comes to my Otis I am the weakest of the weak.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

A new sleep strategy

After a week of excessively disrupted sleep, courtesy of my little, restless angel, I bundled him up in the pram and walked up to the Oatley ECHC yesterday. I gave the nurse a history of his sleep patterns, and the various tactics we've employed with mixed success. She was lovely — non-judgmental regarding the co-sleeping, direct and specific. This Friday night, I am NOT feeding him AT ALL overnight. I may give him one final feed at around 10, but I'll then pop him back in his cot, and Phil will re-settle him in the cot as many times as is required, until around 4 or so when I'll bring him in for the morning. No milk! He'll freak! But, as the nurse said, he's only feeding overnight because he knows no other way of calming and comforting himself.

When we re-settle him, we are NOT to pick him up or stay in there for more than a minute. We can let him cry for up to 5 minutes at a time, no longer. I can do that. I think...

I am petrified! But we have pre-emptive plans in place... I am going to give him a extra meal during the day, I am going to offer the breast every 90 minutes or so, all day long. I am going to stock up on Coke and DVDs to keep us awake, occupied and entertained. Phil is to do the settling so as to break the wake=feed association. The poor man will be so tired the next day, as he isn't used to having the erratic sleep that I am so accustomed to.

Stay tuned! I am hoping for results within days.

Monday, August 25, 2008

The Time Traveler's Wife

This excerpt is such a wonderful, real account of how it feels to long for a baby. I remember feeling just like this, it was a feeling that ate me up, that enveloped me. Nothing else mattered apart from conceiving that baby, my baby, the baby who ended up being Otis. Perhaps there are other, better, passages about this same thing, but this is the one I noticed, the one that spoke to me in my post-longing, post-conception, post-pregnancy, post-baby life:

"I was simply not thinking about a lot of important stuff because I was completely drunk with the notion of having a baby: a baby that looked sort of like Henry, black hair and those intense eyes and maybe very pale like me and smelled like milk and talcum powder and skin, a sort of dumpling baby, gurgling and laughing at everyday stuff, a monkey baby, a small cooing sort of baby. I would dream about babies...

I suddenly began to see babies everywhere; a sneezing red-haired girl in a sunbonnet at the A&P, a tiny staring Chinese boy, son of the owners in the Golden Wok (home of wonderful vegetarian egg rolls); a sleeping, almost bald baby at a Batman movie. In a fitting room at JCPenney a very trusting woman actually let me hold her three-month old daughter; it was all I could do to continue sitting in that pink-beige vinyl chair and not spring up and run madly away hugging that tiny soft being to my breasts.

My body wanted a baby. I felt empty and I wanted to be full. I wanted someone to love who would stay: stay and be there, always. And I wanted Henry to be in this child, so that when he was gone he wouldn't be entirely gone..."

"Baba!"

My boy's first word.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Happy, restless, sick little man...

He's a happy, smiley little bundle, but very snotty, and has been for a couple of weeks now. His night sleeping has reverted to that of a newborn, and I am doing the very thing I was always so determined NOT to do — I am feeding him to sleep. Day and night. We've just had such a rough time of it, I am doing what works, even though I know it is probably establishing problematic habits. I'll fix it all — yeah, like it's that easy! — once his nose stops leaking like a tap. I think he may have inherited the Lyons family allergies. There has been so much dust around, not only throughout the move, but at Mum's due to the installation of her new kitchen.

Anyway, it's not all bad... He is sleeping for at least a hour at a time during the day. We have foregone the first morning sleep, so he is now awake between 6:30 and 10:30.

He is eating really, really well, which makes me happy. He had fish for the first time this week, and really enjoyed it! He gags less on lumpy foods, and I worry less when I give him a finger of toast. Doing very well with a cup, and quite keen to feed himself with a spoon, but I'm not permitting that just yet. The one thing that hasn't agreed with him, for whatever reason, was Heinz Chocolate Custard! It will be very odd if the baby Phil and I created has a chocolate aversion.

His two little teeth, still just stumps really, give his wide-faced smile a bit of extra character. He has his own toothbrush now, and he loves it when I brush his teeth! He goes all still as if to concentrate on the sensation.

His current favourite bath toy is an empty mineral water bottle... He could play with that for hours. Honestly, babies don't need toys! Just give them rubbish to play with.

He's a little more clingy to me lately, which is lovely in a way — it's always nice to feel needed and wanted, of course — but also tiring, and not something I wish to encourage.

Swimming lessons begin on Saturday!! He and Phil are going together, it will be their "thing", but I am along for the ride this weekend, as photographer/observer.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

At nearly 7 months...

Otis:

— eats three solid meals a day, usually cereal and fruit at breakfast, avocado or yoghurt at lunch, and vegies with cheese or meat at dinner
— continues to breastfeed at night, sometimes all night long!!
— sits for lengthy periods, but still tips over now and then
— says "babababa" quite clearly
— shakes with joy at the sight of a leafy tree or Mama drinking from a water bottle (he loves to share)
— plays peek-a-boo with a towel or sheet
— is quite handy with a rattle
— rolls around as a mode of transportation... no sign of crawling just yet!
— has two teeth, which arrived fairly painlessly
— weighs nearly 9 kilograms...

Friday, August 8, 2008

Bad Mama!

Oti and I just popped down to the shops, and on the way one of his socks fell off... It is freezing cold and blustery, and I was getting glares left, right and centre.

Whilst old women with trolleys, boisterous butchers and other, smug, mothers managed to make me feel like a terrible person because my son's sock fell off — the other one was still there, evidence, surely, that I did actually put a pair of socks on him — Otis just smiled and cooed and kicked and laughed, not a care in the world... Babies are much tougher than we give them credit for!

A bit sad about the sock though, as it was a favourite... A lovely, electric blue shade, and Bonds to boot.

In other news... My boy has teeth! One is about millimetre long thus far, the other just peeing through the broken skin of his yummy, pink, sloppy gums. He's been somewhat out of sorts lately, I am guessing this is why. He's also still quite snotty. He's sitting well, rolling this way and that in a rather compulsive fashion, and charming the pants off everyone he meets. Yesterday we did the big walk over to Grandma Peggy's at Connells Point, she just loved spending a couple of hours in his company.

7 months next week! What a learning curve these 7 months have been... Next time I'll ban all books, dismiss all advice, and do what feels right and instinctive... I spent too much time worrying that I was doing the "wrong" thing, and too little living in the moment...

Friday, August 1, 2008

I got my period!

I feel really strange... I haven't had a period since 3 April last year, so it's been awhile. It's nice to know that it's all still working properly down there — it is a nice reminder of my fertility, of the fact that I'll have another little Otis at some point in the future. It also makes me sad... Sad that that whole "period" of my life is over. It is a period in more ways than one — a full stop signalling the end of the amazing journey that is conception, pregnancy and birth. My baby is no longer fully reliant on me for sustenance — he has fewer breast feeds now, and can be nourished by others.

Getting a period is also an absolute pain in the ass — I haven't had to bother with tampons for almost 18 months!

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

An amazing couple of weeks...

I just loved having Phil home for the holidays. We spent 2 1/2 weeks together, the three of us, a tight, intimate, loving little unit. We picnicked at Canterbury — a lovely, yet cold, grey-skied day that featured Otis' first choking episode (a soldier of wholemeal toast was the culprit). We ate together, every meal — Otis usually eats in earnest, to begin with, but by the end is whingey and wants to be held, and prefers sucking water from a cup to chomping down the calories and nutrients he really needs. On Phil's birthday we enjoyed Spanish churros and Baci shakes at San Churros at Glebe, and I shared my whipped cream with Oti — he loved it! We played Scrabble, sans Otis, in the evenings whilst he slept, fitfully.

Otis has choked a couple of times over the past few weeks. It's usually due to my negligence, I'll admit — the bread incident occurred when I turned my head. It was very scary, Phil had to reach in and dislodge the chunk of toast he'd managed to gum away from the larger slice. Then, in the car, on King George's Road of all places, I was spoon-feeding him from the passenger seat. It was mashed — albeit, not mashed enough — avocado. It did cross my mind that this was not a safe thing to do, given that he was tightly strapped in and that I had only very awkward access to him — but for some reason I went ahead regardless. It probably had something to do with the crying! Anyway, all of a sudden he went very red, and made no sound. I alerted Phil to the problem, and he went to veer onto the median strip... Luckily he swallowed and all was well. Phil and I felt rather queasy with fear, though...

He's unwell at the moment, just a cold at this stage. His breathing is a little louder, a little faster, and he's sleeping poorly. He's in with me all night. As soon as he's recovered, I am going to start being stricter, in preparation for his move to his own room once we relocate to Mortdale (in less than 2 weeks time!!!)

His favourite sound is "aye", his favourite song is still that short little refrain from Sister Act 2 that I pulled from nowhere one day and have sung to him ever since... "If you wanna be somebody, if you wanna go somewhere, you better wake up and paaaaay attention..." His favourite toys are the foam animals from his Farmyard Animals book, they are removable, easy to clean, and he enjoys trying to tear them with his teeth.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Happy Half Birthday, Otis!

Otis is 6 months old today... Wow. I have no idea how I filled in 6 months worth of time. I think I spent most of it telling him how beautiful he is. I hope he doesn't end up having an inflated ego! The fact is, he IS beautiful... I am pretty sure it's not just a mother's bias... He's a great looking little guy. I'm lucky! But his joyous, inquisitive nature is his best feature. He's just a happy boy, a curious boy, an always-on-the-go boy.

Phil is on holidays at the moment and is really relishing his time with Otis. He slept next to Phil the past couple of mornings, and Phil just loved it. He reached for Phil for the first time yesterday, and Phil, with a huge grin on his face, proclaimed "Otis just made my year".

So, here is a typical day in the life of Otis, 6 months of age:

5:30-7 — He wakes for the day. Laughs, cuddles, perhaps a small feed, a story or two, and then back to bed for an hour (with Mama).
8:30ish — Breakfast (Farex/porridge with stewed fruits) and then shower, we also hang out the washing (O loves to lay on the grass and stare at the sky and the trees blowing in the wind, whilst I sing and work.
9:30ish — Time for a walk! I take him in the Strider. We walk around the streets of Ashfield/Summer Hill, around Kmart, check out the puppies at Petsworld, sample a Baker's Delight treat.
11ish — Sleep in the Strider.
12ish — Wake up, home time. Breastfeed, and lunch (either natural yoghurt or avocado).
1ish — Play, read...
2ish — Wrap and sit with Mama at the Mac.
2:30ish — Left to self-settle in the cot. Sleep for either 45 minutes or 1.5 hours.
3:30ish — Cuddles with Mama!
4ish — Walk in the BB.
4:30ish — Breastfeed...
5:30ish — Dinner at the table with Mama and Dada (mashed vegies).
6ish — Bathtime!
6:30 — Bedtime stories, breastfeed...
7 — Bed...
10ish — Wake for a feed
2ish — Wake for a feed

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Progress!!

Yes! Woohooo!!! [Insert image of me, jumping up and down, here...]

My baby has finally forgone the 10pm wake/feed... For the past 4 nights — yes, there has actually been some consistency!! — he has gone to bed at 7, and stayed asleep, in his cot, until 1am!!!!!!!!!!!

The joy, the rapture... I can't explain it. It is so lovely to have time with Phil, it is such a luxury, to be able to cuddle up in bed feeling relaxed rather than expecting to be up again within the hour.

He then wakes again sometime between 3 and 4:30, and then, again, sometime between 5 and 6:30.

I don't make as much milk as I used to, now that he is eating solids so eagerly and feeding less frequently, which, I admit, makes me a little sad. I guess I feel slightly redundant now — anyone can feed him his Farex. But this change brings with it more flexibility and freedom, which I wholly welcome.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

My Aryan child!!!

I forgot to mention two crucial recent happenings:

1. We cut his hair! We cut off the mousy brown ends of his newborn hair, that bizarre ring around his head that made him look to be wearing a ill-matched toupee. He is now obscenely blond — I feel almost guilty, to be mother to such a stereotypically gorgeous, cherubic creature. He is all blue eyes, rosy, begging-to-be-pinched cheeks, kissable, rosebud mouth and shining, golden hair. He's so yummy! He looks fatter now too, and I could totally understand why Phil mimed sticking forking into him when we were at a restaurant the other night.
2. Phil decided he is to be moved into his own room. I couldn't argue with his logic... I just cried. My baby. My little boy, who was a speck of a thing not so long ago, is moving into his own room, out of arm's reach.

"He's just like you..."

Both Mum and Dad see so much of me in Otis. It's an amazing thing, to see a tiny replication of myself! He not only looks like me — he behaves just as I did. He's very curious, fairly demanding, increasingly entertaining, and terrible at sleeping. Last night he woke at 9, then 11 (for a feed), 2:30 (feed) and 5. At 5 I tried to ignore him, in the hope he'd drift off again, but no... He was raring to go!

Phil and I have decided to buy a king size bed! We figure we'll be sharing it with babies for the next few years, so it should be worth the extra cost. We've chosen a really cool, metal frame, and are in the process of negotiating a price.

The one big development is that Otis has finally learnt to self-settle. I was at my wit's end a few days ago — I felt as if I was spending all day, every day, patting/rocking/shushing/singing him to sleep. Mum suggested that I wrap him up, give him a kiss, pop him in his cot, close the door and jump in the shower, and go back in ten minutes or so if he screamed. I'm no advocate of controlled crying, so was very apprehensive, but, lo and behold — there was no crying involved! The little cherub moaned in a somewhat pathetic fashion for about 5 minutes, and was then silent! I've since put him to bed fully awake, and left him there to fall asleep himself, for every sleep bar those middle-of-the-night moments.

He's loving his food. Mouth opens like a baby bird, and he gets all agitated and greedy. He's had Farex, pear, apple, avocado, potato, sweet potato, carrot and pumpkin so far.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Mothers Group

No matter how "cool" you think you are, or how widely diverse your interests may be, or how self-sufficient you consider yourself, or how little interest you think you may have in discussing your baby's bowel movements, Mothers Group IS for you. I really do think that whoever invented the concept of the Mothers Group was very clever... I find myself confiding all sorts of embarrassing secrets in a group of women I would never have otherwise had anything to do with, and looking forward to meeting up with them and not having to pretend to have a life outside of being Oti's Mama! It is so freeing to be able to sit with them, each of us with hair unwashed, each emitting a stinky, spewy whiff, each looking a little pale and puffy around the eyes, each in possession of a hear overflowing with newfound love. The women in my Mothers Group are all around 10 or so years older than me, they come from a variety of backgrounds and are in differing situations, yet we are all united by the overwhelming experience that is motherhood. Bek is in her early 40s, she is a jazz singer and a Montessori teacher and is incredibly friendly and frank. Then there's Ange, a university administrator who is so sweet and gentle, and Dijana, a Serbian software engineer who is fairly isolated and I think gets a lot out of the tentative friendships we are forming, and Kumi, who is Japanese and mother to a little doll of a girl. We had a yummy, simple lunch at Bek's today, and Bek and I were incredibly touched to witness our little ones start to explore each other and link hands for a few moments. The babies all lay and played on a mat on the floor and the mothers empathised with one another, listening with understanding ears and hearts to tales of impatient, ignorant husbands — no, I'm not referring to my own here — difficult mothers-in-law, nappy options, and the isolation-inducing breastfeeding schedules.

I actually offered to host them all back here in a fortnight! Ack! I swore I wouldn't entertain for another few months, but I have no fear of these women tsking at my messy place. They are understanding and unpretentious and I appreciate that. My friends, I adore, and I can't wait 'til I can share in their pregnancies and child-rearing, but, for now, I need to, on occasion, spend time with others in the same boat.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

I love my boy!

Today I am just about bursting with love for him...

I love the way he coughs for our attention. It is so inventive and adorable.

I love the way he nibbles on a hi-lighter... Perhaps he will be researcher like his Mama!

I love that a piece of scrunched up magazine paper holds his attention for many minutes.

He's at Mum's and I'm missing him!!

Monday, June 16, 2008

Modern Cloth Nappies

It's been a typically topsy-turvy week in the Hurst/Hammond residence. My boy is eating well — his diet consists of pears and apples, stewed by yours truly, sweet potato, Farex, and, of course, boob juice — and sleeping a bit better at night. Last night, for instance, he went down at 6:30, woke at 11:30, then at 2:30 and then at 6. Last week was another story, however. He was waking in pain, legs scrunched and kicking, red in the face, every couple of hours, on top of waking for feeds. It was frustrating and exhausting. Dr Hsu recommended Yakult to introduce the germs needed to break down the solids properly. It appears to have helped substantially.

He's been such a happy little thing, always talking, always smiling. He's getting rounder and fairer by the day, and his gorgeous navy eyes are constantly being complimented when we're up at Ashfield Mall, or having "coffee" with other mummies and babies at Summer Hill. He's sitting well, for a minute or so at a time, and loving to scrunch paper and chew on fluro hi-lighters. He's pooing only once every 4 or 5 days — kinder on the nappies, but a bit scarier for Phil and I! They are pastey and gigantic and really smelly.

OK, so I thought I'd talk a bit about Modern Cloth Nappies (MCN), as I am forever fielding questions about them. We use Green Kids, Baby Kangas and Blueberry nappies — brands of pocket nappies, which consist of a PUL waterproof outer shell and an insert made of either bamboo, hemp or microfibre. Bamboo is the most absorbent of these materials, hemp inserts are the trimmest, and microfibre inserts are cheap. The nappies are fastened with either velcro or snaps, and all of the nappies we own are adjustable so that they fit most babies from birth right through to toilet training.

They are simple to wash — I dry pail, which means throwing wet/soiled nappies in a nappy bucket sans any nappy cleaning solution. MCN simply don't need harsh chemicals in order to be properly cleaned. Every second or third day I throw them all in the machine, and put a rinse cycle on. I then do a long wash, with only half the recommended amount of liquid detergent. Any residual staining comes out in sunlight, so if there are any stains I make sure to hang the nappies on the line. I don't find the nappies stained too often, so the dryer is fine on wet days.

We use flushable liners, which make things a little less gross — liner and any poo it has managed to catch are simply flushed down the toilet.

PROS:
- Otis has only ever had nappy rash after wearing disposables (which he does at Mum's, and did when we holidayed in Noosa).
— The nappies are gorgeous! We have a selection of lovely block colours and prints, including faux cow and leopard skin! Much, much cuter than disposables, which is fantastic in the warmer months, as he can just wear a nappy and a singlet and look quite the stunner.
— MCN are much more cost effective. You have the initial outlay of a few hundred, and a slightly higher water bill. Fantastic when you're living in Sydney on one wage!
— There are environmental benefits galore...

CONS:
— Washing — I do more than most, I guess.
— They take up a hell of a lot more room in the nappy bag!

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Baptised!

I really wish I had finished my thesis draft before Otis was born! But the whole cholestasis scare put paid to that plan... I just have to accept that things are the way they are, and work at finishing it. I feel a little guilty, I suppose, at having time away from him that doesn't equate with more money. I mean, I guess it will generate money, in an indirect fashion, at some point, but...

OK, enough. Otis was baptised on Sunday, Bart's 19th birthday. It was a rainy day, and quite cool, but the wonderful company warmed my heart, as did my baby's beauty! He looked so damn cool, if I, his stylist, do say so myself. He wore a tuxedo t-shirt from Rock Your Baby, white cords, a white Pure Baby cardigan, and custom made leather shoes, black with a white letter O on one foot, and a J on the other.

He behaved quite well during the ceremony, other than a few restless whimpers that Phil explained signalled the devil being exorcised! Well, they did start a few moments after the exorcism prayer... He sucked fairly furiously on his dummy, which annoyed Mum and many other snap-happy photographers, but all I cared about was keeping him calm.

We had a simple morning tea of sandwiches, dips and slices, and a few champagnes with which to celebrate. Phil and I cut the cake after I made a short, impromptu, tear-inducing speech — unusual for me, a non-crier for the most part, but mothering tends to turn on the waterworks.

Other than that, things have been as they usually are... A combination of ecstatic joy, cuddles and laughs, and tension induced by broken sleep and my baby's seeming constipation. It all got moving again last week, he pooed once a day, and I was happy, but it's now been about 5 days, and he slept fitfully, waking almost hourly, squirming in pain until he managed a fart. He's in with me most of the night, once again, but I am aiming to have him sleeping in his cot all night long before the end of winter, which is when he'll be moving into his own room. Am I dreaming? Maybe.

He's doing a few new things... Blowing raspberries at the most inopportune moments — when he's supposed to be sleeping, or mid-cry. He's a happy little thing, smiling and babbling away, and shoving everything, no matter how awkwardly shaped or massive, into his mouth. He's now enjoying a diet of Farex, stewed pears, and stewed apples. I am trying to give him only home-cooked food (when it's convenient — sometimes it's just not feasible), which he does seem to enjoy much more than the jars from Coles. He's still rolling only sporadically — his favourite game is to lie on my tummy and roll off into my waiting arm, he does either side and looks so proud when he lands next to me. His new favourite story is Dr. Seuss's If I Ran The Zoo — it's quite a fun read for me as well! Godmother Eise gave him an Seuss anthology. Great gift!

He's definitely trying to crawl... He gets up into a sort of plank position, legs straight, weight resting on elbows and toes. His face goes bright red and he groans in frustration. He clearly longs to move. He'll get there!

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Love songs...

Honestly, they were written for mothers and their babies!

"My favourite place is me and you

I wake up in darkest night
Watch you breathe in shadow light
A perfect world lies next to me
And I don't need to sleep to dream...

Morning sun warms our skin
Distant sounds
The day begins
Soon their world will come calling for us
But this is space they cannot touch..."

(From Kate Miller-Heidke's "Space They Cannot Touch")

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Strength...

Being a mother is magnificently empowering. Not only did the birth make me feel invincible — for, surely only someone with super-human strength could get through the hell of labour in one piece, and be able to smile once it was over? — but caring for my baby instills in me a strength I don't think I had before. My family is in turmoil, things seem to go from bad to worse — I could go into detail, but that's not what this blog is about — and it is often up to me to pick up the pieces. I guess I don't have a choice — Otis deserves to be mothered with smiles and songs and cuddles, not sadness and anguish. So I go on, smiling and singing with joy in my voice, if not always in my heart.

Oh, and then there's the thesis...

Just a quick Oti update. He is on Day 5 of solids — Farex and breastmilk, with a little bit of Heinz Fruity Pear (wow, how incredibly descriptive those folk at Heinz are?!) thrown in for taste and variety. He hasn't pooed since his first taste! He cried in pain, waking about 5 times last night... Will lay off it today and hope those bowels get moving. Watching the poor little creature straining, grunting and red in the face is just so sad.

The first two nights of solids, he slept really, really well, waking only once or twice! I was stunned and expected it to continue... I keep forgetting my mantra — expect the unexpected.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Payback! That must be it...

I think Oti's poor sleeping is the universe's way of paying me back for being such a poor sleeper myself, for keeping Mum and Dad up all night when I was a babe.

He really tested my patience last night. Fell asleep on the dot of 7, as he has done the past couple of weeks. Woke at 10, fed, and then squirmed and grizzled in his sleep for 40 minutes, before waking again properly. I had to pat him to sleep, and then he woke again an hour later! Fed up, I took him in with me. He squirmed and wriggled, as if in pain, all night long. At 5 I told Phil I didn't feel like being his Mum today — could we find a replacement?

I think perhaps he's still suffering some side effects from the rotavirus vaccine. He did a huge, dirty, stinking poo this morning, and seemed somewhat calmer immediately afterwards.

My technique to get him to sleep longer than 45 minutes (yes, it worked!!) — sit by the cot about 5 minutes before his usual waking time, and when he starts to stir, just put a firm hand on his shoulder. He wriggled a little, and then was still. It's not ideal, but it's an improvement!

What else is new? He weighs 7.4 kg and is 66 cm long. He has started rolling again — tummy to back — doing it once last night and twice this morning. He had his first rusk stick last weekend, and absolutely relished it, getting it all over himself and screeching when he dropped it, impatiently waiting for Phil to rinse it before giving it back. He is enjoying playing with toys now, still not always managing to grasp them firmly, but able to hit toys that are hanging above him, and to push everything he comes into contact with, no matter how awkwardly, into his mouth.

Tonight Elise and Mark are babysitting so that Phil and I can go to the movies! I am praying he is sweet and lovely so that they a) will do it again sometime and b) aren't turned off having children of their own!

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

More things I love about Otis...

His lopsided, patchy, glistening, golden hair. What can I say? It's a hairdo only a mother could love! It actually looks a little bit now, a little bit trendy, as if the sides have been shaved.

His little tongue that pokes out when he smiles.

His warm, clammy, frantic little hands, that grip onto anything and everything, so tightly.

His still-slightly-curved right foot. And his perfectly straight left foot. They are deliciously soft and pink.

The little scratch on his nose — I really should cut his nails more often!

His chubby, bloated, full-of-milk belly.

His huge, navy eyes, that are forever darting about, checking out the scenery.

His giggle. It's a real, little boy giggle now.

His smooth, white skin. Unblemished. Pure.

The look of bliss that lights up his face the second the warm bath water hits his naked bum.

The urgent, open-mouthed panting that begins the moment he glimpses my exposed nipple!

The sleepy, half-hearted whines that begin a few minutes before he closes his eyes.

His half-closed eyes as he drifts off to sleep...

Monday, May 12, 2008

Mother's Day/Mothers' Day

Hmmm... The apostrophe for Mother's/s' Day really stumps me.

Anyway, it was just the loveliest day! First of all, Phil let me sleep in, or, rather, through Oti's first wake up, so I didn't have to get out of bed until 8:30, which was such a treat. He then presented me with a plate of the richest, yummiest chocolate pancakes with a roasted hazelnut sauce. I can't begin to describe how incredibly delicious they were! I was given a very stylish khaki designer nappy bag, to replace my old, broken one, with a zipper that burst under the weight of too many nappies! I highly recommend the brand — Soon — to all mothers-to-be. It's very roomy and very cool.

I was also given a card in which Otis "signed" his name.

I dressed him in his animal print finery — a leopard Rock Your Baby long-sleeve onesie and tiger Huggalugs — and carted him, along with all my yummy baked goods, to Mum's for the day. We enjoyed good food — cold seafood, layered Mexican dip, deep-fried polenta-crusted chicken, salads, and chocolate caramel slice — and wonderful company and conversation. Oh, and a few white wines...

Today Otis had his 4 month shots. He screamed for a few seconds, but quickly forgot about the pain, once his mouth found my nipple! He's been in a great mood all day, and we've been singing and reading and generally acting silly together. I gave him an hour of nappy-free time which he loved, but which resulted in a few sudden sprays!

The sleeping during the day is still dreadful. He's only sleeping through one sleep cycle, waking on cue 45 minutes after he first goes down. Some days I manage to get him re-settled and he sleep through another cycle, other days it's just too hard, and I give in. On these days I try to get him to have another afternoon sleep a little later.

The nights are getting better though. Last night he slept in the cot for 4 hours, woke for a feed, then in the cot for another 2 1/2 hours, then a feed, then in with me until 6:30. He's such a snuggly little thing, now that the temperature has dropped. I could cuddle him under the covers all day long.

Anyway, I am working on helping him to get to sleep with less and less assistance — today just held him still, until he shut his eyes — and on not beating myself up about his inability to do so!

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Torn

I think half my problem is that I am torn between doing what "they" say I should, and doing what I feel naturally inclined to do. I am obsessed with preventing the formation of bad habits, when perhaps I should just be living in the now. Mum told me to jump into bed with him and put him on the boob if/when all else fails... That is exactly what I long to do when he is distressed, but I have convinced myself that it's not "allowed". I'm not sure who is policing all this — I guess I am. Neither Phil, nor Mum, nor Lan, nor any of the other key players in my mothering life expect me and Otis to be a perfectly, by-the-book, functioning unit. But I have internalised all the mantras that you hear in parenting books and at the Early Childhood Health Centre and on TV. It's so silly.

I've gone against SIDS guidelines yet again, and put his sheepskin in his cot. It seems to be helping. The idea of a bare, short-sheeted cot is just fine in theory, but so un-cosy, so impractical when it comes to inducing sleep in an infant. So do you follow the guidelines to the letter and end up tearing your hair out, or do you use common sense and proceed with caution? It's a tough one.

Oh, he wakes...

Monday, May 5, 2008

Jekyll and Hyde

This past week Otis has been such an easy baby to care for... Sleeping well, and falling asleep without any drama. Smiling, and, in a very exciting, recent development, entertaining himself with toys! He still has a little trouble grasping them, but he can usually get a bit of a grip, and when he does, whatever he's holding goes straight into his mouth! What this means for us is that he no longer screams in the car! Yesterday, he gurgled away happily whilst chomping on Googlebot — Phil named it, don't ask — and staring at his brightly coloured appendages.

We swapped the bassinette for the cot, which meant a bit of a furniture rearranging, and has signalled a return to sleep problems. Big, huge, tear-inducing — yes, in baby and Mama — sleep problems. You see, we've been managing to get him into his bed awake, and then a few quick pats, or just a firm hand on his shoulder, and he's asleep, dreaming peacefully of boobs and milk and cuddles from his favourite people. But today, things were crazy. I put him in, held him still for a minute or two, and left him to sleep. But he woke up a mere 30 minutes later! I popped the dummy in and he settled, only to wake again in a matter of minutes. I took him out, re-wrapped him — a technique that is quickly proving fruitless, as he pops his arms out at the first sign of agitation — cuddled him 'til his eyes started to close, and popped him back in, on his side so that I could pat him. He fell asleep, but woke as soon as I moved away.

I tried a few more variations on this, becoming increasingly cranky all the while. I then moved to my bed, and gave him a few pats before he appeared to be fast asleep. Again, as soon as I moved away his eyes sprang open and the squirming dance began. At this point, I was beside myself — it had been an hour of nonsense, and I felt so defeated and useless. I left him screaming on the bed and went outside to call my Dad for advice and a bit of comfort...

I eventually gave up, jumped into bed with him in one arm and my book in another, and he fell asleep pretty much immediately. And his perfect, pretty, innocent little face pointed up at me made me feel so guilty for getting so angry. But I am really worried that he's suddenly decided that he won't sleep unless he's being cuddled, and I worry that it's all my fault, given that he spends half the night in my arms. I am feeling pretty low after being on a real high the past few days... I just feel like a failure, not only because of today's episode, but also because he's not yet sleeping in a seamless, predictable pattern overnight, and because my house is a disgusting mess... I feel as if I should be able to get more done. Other mothers manage to keep their houses clean and tidy! Why am I struggling so much?

Phil has promised to get him down to sleep tonight, so at least there's some reprieve in sight. Oh, I fell asleep soon after he did, but got up after being woken by the phone. He's still asleep, rugged up under my doona in a very evil-SIDS-inducing fashion...

Monday, April 28, 2008

Dear Otis...

Excatly one year ago, I saw those two pink lines come up and found out you were on your way. I thought, then, that that was the best day of my life. Then I saw you on a little TV screen, 20 weeks after you were concieved, and feel head-over-heels for you. I thought, then, that that was the best day of my life. Then you were born, and, even though you ripped me in two, that WAS the best day of my life. Each day I get to know you a little better, each day your little face becomes more familiar. Each day the simple things you do — a smile, a squeal, a laugh, a roll — amaze me.

Today, at 15 weeks of age, you weigh 7 kg and are 65 cm long. You've grown so quickly! You've lost that special newborn smell, but now you just smell of "you", and that's just as good, if not better.

Thanks for coming into our lives. I hope you are pleased with the parents you ended up with!

Mama xxx

Friday, April 25, 2008

Rolling...

"rolling, wheels go rolling, round and round and round..."

Otis rolled over today! I'll never forget the date — ANZAC Day. To think, a year ago, he was already growing inside me, unbeknownst to us! I can't believe how far he/we have come.

Anyway, it was quite funny. I took him into Mum's room to "practise" rolling. I lay him down on his tummy, and at that very moment Mum sat on the bed. As it dipped a little, he, without any intention or effort, rolled over. I got all excited, until Mum pointed out what had happened. We put him back onto his tummy, and in a matter of seconds, he was on his back, smiling proudly, looking a little shell-shocked! I can't get over how overwhelmingly proud I felt. I feel pathetic even typing that, but I really did feel incredibly pride.

We made him do it again, and again, and again. I think he rolled 8 times in a row! He even rolled to both his left and his right, loving to show off his new-found skill.

Of course, all that rolling action resulted in a fairly significant spew!

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Update...

Otis has been... PERFECT. There's simply no other word for it. Although, now that I've said that out loud — or rather, typed it in black and white — he's bound to have a bad day. Anyway, all he seems to do these days is "talk" and giggle and smile and sleep. It's so lovely. It's heaven. When he's like this, I can barely remember the bad times! Luckily I've documented it all...

Yesterday we walked up to Coles to get some ingredients for dinner. He was in the Baby Bjorn, but facing out for the first time. I think he thought he was actually conversing with complete strangers! He just went on, and on and on, barely stopping to take a breath. He made so much noise! I think we've got a chatterbox on our hands.

He's ALMOST sitting up now. He can sit quite well if I prop him up between my legs, he only very slightly rests on me for support. I think it will be any day now. He's also trying to roll, but not having much success. He gets really frustrated... It's as if he's trying to take off!

His new routine — I hesitate to call it that, for fear it will all fall apart — goes something like this:

6:00 — Wake, feed, play, read books
7:00-8:00 — Sleep
8:00-9:00 — Shower, feed
9:00-11:00 — Go for a walk, have a nap in the pram or BB
11:30 — Feed
Midday-2:00 — Sleep
2:30 — Feed
3:00-5:30 — Play, have a bath
5:30 — Feed
6:30 — Top-up feed, bedtime
1:00 — Wake for a feed, get in with Mum and Dad
3:00 — Wake for a feed
4:30 — Squirm and grunt and fart and belch, whilst still half asleep

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Lactation Cookies!

Yay... An excuse to eat something delicious. I have had to work very hard to express a sufficient amount of milk in order to be away from Otis for a 24 hour period. Tomorrow we are attending Renee and Todd's wedding, so he'll be spending the afternoon with his Nana, and then having a sleepover at Grandma and Poppy's! Don't know how excited he is about all this, but the exclamation marks may give you some idea of how thrilled Phil and I are about having some time out from being parents. I love, love, love him, but it will be such a relief to have some space.

Anyway, back to my EBM mission... I discovered this recipe:

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Lactation Boosting Oatmeal, Chocolate Chip & Linseed Cookies

1 cup butter or margarine
1 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar
4 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons linseed meal
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
3 cups oats, thick cut if you can get them
1 cup (or more I use a whole packet J) chocolate chips (milk or white chocolate both taste yummy)
2 tablespoons brewer’s yeast (be generous)

Preheat oven to 180c (fan forced) 200? (regular oven). Mix together 2 tbs of linseed meal and water. Set aside. Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs one at a time, mix well. Stir linseed mixture and add with vanilla to the butter mix. Beat until blended. Sift together dry ingredients, except oats and chips. Add to butter mixture. Stir in oats, then chips. Scoop or drop onto non stick baking sheet, or one lined with baking paper. Bake approximately 12 minutes.

Linseed meal can be found in the health food aisle of your supermarket or at health food stores. Brewer’s yeast can be found at health food stores. It MUST be brewer’s yeast - NO substitutions!

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So far so good... Other than the possibility of packing on the pounds, I am happy to munch on these morning, noon and night. Otis had some really long night feeds last night (usually only goes for 5 or so minutes during the night, last night did a 30 minute feed), so I think they are working. Longer, better feeds = fewer feeds and more sleep!

I am planning on making these for all those lovely expectant mothers when their babies arrive! (Yes, Ally, Lan, Emily, I'm talking about you...)

Monday, April 14, 2008

The Mask of Motherhood

My clever Mum gave me a copy of Susan Maushart's The Mask of Motherhood in the early stages of my pregnancy. I've read chapters here and there, when appropriate — I read the stuff on pregnancy when I was pregnant, for instance, and the section on birth just before my due date — and I simply cannot recommend it highly enough:

"When a woman becomes a mother, her relationships, her professional identity and her sense of self will never be the same again. The fact is, the presence of children does not simply add to the lives of their parents, it transforms those lives completely.

The precise nature of this transformation remains ONE OF THE BEST KEPT SECRETS OF CONTEMPORARY ADULT LIFE, shrouded in a conspiracy of silence..."

When I was 8 weeks pregnant and throwing up breakfast, lunch and dinner, I recall being livid as to just how unprepared I had been. My ignorance seemed so incredibly unfair. I just kept wondering why nobody had told me that pregnancy wasn't all serene smiles and anticipatory belly rubs. I felt hideous — nauseous ALL DAY LONG, pimply, hairy, sore and completely drained. On top of that there was the ever-present anxiety, the checking-my-undies-for-blood moments. I was actually really angry at my Mum, angry that she had, for some reason, kept me in the dark. Why weren't the horrors of pregnancy more widely acknowledged?

The same feelings pertain to my experience of the early days of parenting. All we ever hear in the media, all we ever see on TV or in films, or read about in novels, is that mothering provides women with joy upon joy upon joy. We are told that being a Mum will change our lives, but we never take it literally. I guess this is another of my motivations for writing this blog. Since it began, it appears to have garnered a small, loyal following, largely of childless women who seemingly hope to catch a glimpse of what being a mother is REALLY like, or mothers who feel that their own feelings of frustration and fear are somehow validated by my public documentation of mine. Now that I know, first-hand, I feel duty-bound to "tell it like it is" — it's really and truly extremely challenging. There is the birth itself — horrific, don't believe anyone who says they enjoy giving birth, what an absolute load of garbage! — then the feeding — no, for many women it doesn't "just happen" — the lack of sleep, the crying, the screaming, the damaged and unattractive post-baby body, the lack of time to oneself, the — hopefully temporary!! — deterioration of your relationship with your partner — and, of course, the consistent self-doubt.

For some reason, for many reasons — see Maushart's book for an in-depth exploration of these — mothers don't share with mothers-to-be the difficulties that come with the birth of a new baby. There is a definite pressure to appear to be coping — or, more accurately, to appear to be thriving, to be in a permanent state of babymoon bliss. It's just not like that! I'm not saying there aren't beautiful, wonderous moments. There are. If there weren't, mothers and fathers would have the good sense not to go back for more. But there are days, or even weeks, when these are few and far between. When you're stuck in traffic and your baby screeches so loud and long that he starts to lose his voice, it's hard to feel joy. More realistically, in such circumstances, you feel despair. As Maushart writes, "Although you'll never read about it in the glossy magazines or the expert texts, the feeling of being buried alive by early motherhood is now a commonplace experience" (201).

But then you have an afternoon like the one I've just had. You sit with your baby in your lap and sing to him, as earnestly as possible, a bunch of daggy eighties tunes — Banarama's Shy Boy, anyone? — and elicit a series of proper, grown-up giggles from your nearly 3 month old little boy. Moments like those are better than anything else. Honestly, I'd sell my soul, give up everything I own, swim from here to New Zealand — I'd do anything just to hear Otis laugh, just to see him smile. Being a Mum, for me, is about reminding myself of those perfect pockets of one-on-one Rochelle and Otis time whenever I feel stressed and anxious and afraid that I'm failing.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

I am an awful mother...

I got really frustrated and just screamed at him. I really, really screamed. I am so horrible. I really hate myself right now.

How can I yell at him? He's a helpless, ignorant infant. I love him so much, but sometimes I just become enraged. I know it's not really at him, it's at myself... I get angry when I don't see results that match my efforts. I try so hard to do everything properly and by the book, but sometimes there are no answers, no remedies. And it's all so unexpected, so impossible to predict.

I tried for well over an hour to get him to sleep. He wasn't even whinging, he was just wide awake, yet he had to have been exhausted as he hadn't slept at all since early this morning. He just stared up at me, those big blue eyes blinking, wondering why he was wrapped and in bed when he wasn't even sleepy. I was simply trying to avoid another night like the one I had on Tuesday, when, as a result of not sleeping during the day, he was beside himself with exhaustion to the point that even my Dad was unable to get him down. I am forever thinking ahead, plotting and planning... I think I am probably too self-congratulatory when my scheming seemingly does work. It's probably all a fluke. It is becoming more and more apparent that Otis is the boss...

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Oti's First Holiday!

Well, we are back from Noosa. Otis was such a gem and really enjoyed his first holiday! My seaside fantasy, however —wherein he happily splashes his little feet in the water and plays in the sand with a big, photo-worthy smile on his face — didn't eventuate. He HATED the water! The lower lip trembled, the face went bright red... He just cried and cried. I think Phil was a little too eager, perhaps, and didn't give him a chance to gradually get used to the chill. Not that the water was really cold! That's the thing I love about Noosa — the water is always such a perfect temperature. Perhaps not for babies though... Anyway, he sure looked the part, in his Monster Baby white and black skeleton rashie, bright red swim nappy and floppy, stripey hat!

I had some really mixed feelings when we were up there. On the one hand, it was fantastic to have 16 pairs of hands to assist me in the day-to-day care of my boy. There was always someone around to entertain him, read to him, sing him to sleep, change his pooey nappy, take him in the bath... The only thing no one else can do for him is breast feed him, of course! The down side to all of this was twofold — not only did I miss having him to myself, I also felt bizarrely guilt-ridden. I felt as if I were neglecting him by way of palming him off to others, having Mum put him down to sleep every night, taking him down to Dad for cuddles in the morning. I think I have internalised the belief that mother and baby should never be apart... Mothering is a 24/7 job, and I felt as if I were taking a sickie. It's silly and illogical, but I couldn't shake the feeling. It really is a wonderful thing, the love his extended family has for him, and I want so much to promote that and feed that.

I was nervous about the plane trips, but he didn't really make much of a fuss. He was asleep before take off on the way up there, but got a bit ratty and whingey about half-way through the flight. The stress must have been all over my face, as the lovely lady sitting next to me did her best to reassure me. "They were all babies too, once", she reminded me, referring to the other, slightly disgruntled passengers. He did like being changed in the plane's toilet... Wall-to-wall mirrors, perfect for the babe who loves the sight of his own gorgeous self! He didn't make even a whimper on the way home... But once we were home? The devil possessed him!

On both Monday and Tuesday he cried for about an hour straight in the morning. On Monday I had him in his pram, which is usually one of his favourite places, and he put on the biggest, holding-his-breath, red-faced, streaming-tears performance I've ever witnessed. I got him out for a cuddle in the middle of Coles, only to have an old woman label him "spoilt". Thanks! Way to make a suffering new mother, feel better! He slept in only short spurts and was whingey and unhappy all day and all that night. I spent the day in analytical overdrive, trying to work out the cause, blaming myself, consulting my Mum.

Spent the day with Mum and Lani on Tuesday, and his temperament was similarly sooky. The only thing that made it bearable was the fact that Mum had no idea how to console him either — so hopefully I wasn't to blame! It took me 2 hours to get him down to sleep last night, but when it finally came, what a deep sleep it was... From Mum's bassinette, to the car seat, to his own bed — it was flawless transfer, he slept through it all, in total for over 7 HOURS! Woke at 2:30, asleep again by 3 after a lengthier than normal night feed. Woke at 5:30, fed, and then slept from 7 'til 8. Played happily, had a shower, and has been asleep since 10 (it's after midday)... The relief is incomparable! I am so happy!!

My current parenting dilemma pertains to the newly cold weather... Now that Otis sleeps, in accordance with SIDS recommendations, on his back, he tends to break free fairly easily from his wrap, and his little hands get so cold. I bought some nice, cosy ribbed jersey fabric yesterday to make a couple of massive wraps. Here's hoping I wrap him so tight that he can't escape!

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Square one...

I feel as if I am back there again. For the past two nights Otis has not slept for longer than two hours at a time. I am exhausted, not only because my sleep has been so interrupted, but also because I'm coming down with something... Sore throat, runny nose, husky voice, aching head... It's not easy being the happy-go-lucky, energetic, entertaining Mum he's used to. Luckily Baby Songs came in the mail today, so I popped that on for 20 minutes to give my throat a rest. I love hearing all those songs from my childhood — well, it wasn't really MY childhood, I associate those songs with Gabby and Bart as babies and toddlers. They're really lovely, if you can look past the daggy 80s clothing and styling, in that they teach babies how to deal positively with a whole range of experiences — toilet training, playing, animals, sleeping, separation anxiety, walking, sharing, eating... The Americanisms are a little painful— "Today I Took My Diaper Off" is an example! Anyway, obviously Otis is too young to understand the words, but he really enjoys all the music and colour. He really does love to hear someone sing. He is particularly partial to my voice, I usually get a massive grin within seconds of starting a performance of "Oh Happy Day" from Sister Act II, or "New Soul" by Yael Naim!!

I feel silly because even though I know to expect the unexpected, I think I was smugly convinced that my fantastic parenting skills had moulded Otis into an easy, obedient little boy. Hahahahahaha!! The joke is on me. He is entirely in control. As a result, my hair is a rat's nest, I haven't even brushed my teeth, and I had to forgo Mothers' Group this morning. I sat on the toilet this morning at about 3 and just put my head in my hands and cried. When I got back to him, it was as if he knew he'd upset me, and he just smiled and smiled, and then went to sleep next to me.

We decided this morning that he is Nazi — definitely has the requisite Aryan appearance, and constantly makes these bizarre hand signals, holding his clenched fist up towards the light. He's got the dictatorship thing down pat too. Hopefully we'll be able to have some influence on his politics and can steer him away from this type of thinking...

Thankfully we are heading up to Noosa tomorrow night, and Mum and Dad can help ease the load.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Another milestone...

Otis smiled early — at 3 weeks — and is already holding his head up unsupported, at a mere 10 weeks of age.

He weighs an impressive 6.35 kg and is an absolute joy, so smiley and so vocal. I miss him when he's asleep and my heart skips a beat when I hear the little cries he makes upon waking. I literally run to him and scoop him up in my arms, covering him in kisses and breathing in his salty, yummy smell. I love how puffy his face after his long afternoon sleep — on one side it is usually bright pink, and his hair is sweaty and matted...

It truly is like being in love. But better! You don't have to worry about arguments or infidelity or looking good... He loves me when I'm wearing a ratty, vomit-stained t-shirt, undies with holes in them, and sporting unwashed, unbrushed hair and morning breath. Can't get much more unconditional than that!

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

The strange behaviour of a new mother...

These are some somewhat surprising things I find myself doing/thinking/experiencing:

Rocking and/or pushing in a soothing, to and fro manner, the Woolworths trolley...

Talking about myself in the third person ("Mama loves you Oti", "Mummy's here")...

Giving Phil a silent high five or thumbs up whenever he or I manage to get Otis to sleep... How dorky!

Running to the door and listening every minute or two when I am hanging out the washing during Oti's sleep...

Stinking of vomit and not caring one little bit!

Sitting at Redfern Station with an exposed breast — nipple and all — and not caring... Not one bit!

Hanging out at Ashfield Mall's Michele's Patisserie with a bunch of much older mothers, and actually enjoying conversations pertaining to the frequency and colour of baby excrement...

Singing "Kookaburra Sits In The Old Gum Tree" with the sort of gusto I used to reserve for karaoke...

Starting my day at 5... With a smile on my face!

Having 3 minute showers... And, no, it's not out of environmental consciousness, although I am happy to claim that! Otis gets shirty very quickly in the shower, and I can't wash my hair or shave my legs when he's in there with me, so all I ever do is a quick all-over soaping and a rinse once I've washed and soothed him. Whoever suggested that babies find showers/baths relaxing obviously never met Oti! He's happy for the first minute... Sometimes.

Shopping in KMart... Every f$%#ing day!

Preferring to stay at home with my husband and my son over getting dressed up and going out drinking with my friends...

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

10 weeks old...

Exactly ten weeks ago I was lying in a hospital bed and gazing adoringly at my sleeping boy, ignoring the midwife's pleas to "try to get some sleep". Sleep! It was the furthest thing from my mind, despite how exhausted — physically, mentally, emotionally — I was. These days when he's asleep I work at speed to get things done... I write in here when I can, I put on and hang out washing, I clean the kitchen, I prepare a quick — usually unexciting — meal, I check my email, I make phone calls. I never really obeyed the "sleep when your baby sleeps" advice.

We've been busy! Otis celebrated his first Easter in style... He wore a pair of blue satin bunny ears to Mass, gorgeously co-ordinated, of course, with a white Bonds Wondersuit. Mum called it an "Anne Geddes moment". I couldn't agree more! I try not to be one of those mother's who uses their baby as an accessory, but he really was absolutely, undeniably adorable. Next Easter he'll be wolfing down chocolate and making a mess... Never again will he look so pure and untarnished!

He's growing up! In both the literal and figurative sense... He's getting so tall, soon he won't fit in his little bed, and since I'm not sure that we can feasibly move the cot into our room, I guess he'll be in his own room before we know it. He can hold his head up now for about 5 minutes or so at a time — I help him practise sitting my holding him by the hands and lifting him into a sitting position. He looks around quite proudly in these moments! He's starting to get quite cheeky... When I had him all wrapped and ready for sleep an hour ago, he kept spitting out his dummy and giving me these sneaky, giggling grins. It was frustrating, but, really, I couldn't help but laugh! He goes for his dummy less and less these days — he's more interested in stuffing his entire fist into his mouth, and drooling all over himself and whoever is caring for him.

He's still suffering from reflux... In fact, I think it may be getting worse. He tends to bring the milk back up, all chunky, creamy and curdled, about an hour after each feed, and when he does he grimaces ever so slightly. We go through numerous bibs per day, and he's got Mylanta on tap. It doesn't appear to be troubling him too much, though, so I'm not having it investigated any further at this point.

Our nights are getting better and better all the time. He now goes down, in his own bed, which is parked a centimetre or two from mine, anytime between 7 and 8, and usually takes about half an hour to properly drift off. He then usually sleeps for a fairly lengthy spell, anywhere between 4 and 7 hours, before waking for his first feed. After that he stays in with me, and wakes every 3 hours until around 5, when he's up for the day! I'll try to pat him back to sleep, but he just stares at me with those big, dark eyes, and smiles defiantly, knowing his little face will win me over. Once he's been changed I read to him — Kidogo, Peter Rabbit, ABC, Hug — he's got a few favourites. We usually follow this with a song or two — Old McDonald (and on that farm he had an Otis... Wah-wah here... Wah-wah there... You get the picture!), Kookaburra Sits In The Old Gum Tree, Chin Up, You Are My Sunshine. I need to increase my repertoire!

I am finally at a point where I can say that I feel confident as a mother. I think I know my baby really well and am able to meet all his needs. It's a great feeling! We still have our dark moments, however. But these days I am better at managing my own feelings and frustrations. I think, having done this for as long as I have now, I know that the "witching hour" (around 6 'til 7 in the evening) is just that, an hour at most... I know that as soon as I get to breaking point, as soon as my cries join his, things inevitably get better, he tires and starts to settle, forgets why he was fussing in the first place. Bad days are over fairly quickly, and his smiles are truly magical — they have the power to make me forget... Phil is great at jumping in when I can't cope... I'm lucky to be with someone who knows me so well and can read me like an open book.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

The many names of Otis...

We call him:

Otis, Oti, Oat Boy, Oat Man, Beautiful, Mummy's Boy, Mummy's Baby, Spew Boy, Mr. Moo, Bugaloo, Bubbaloo, Bubbarina, Bubba, Monkey, Devil, Puppykins, Baby Boy, Little Boy, Little Man, Little Old Man, OJ, Otis James, Happy Boy...

Some make sense, some don't.

Amazing, hey?