I can do it :)
Otis and I are babysitting Isla Grace today... And things are going swimmingly indeed! Isla had a nap between 10:30 and midday... Otis went down around 11... It's now almost 1, Isla has been fed and changed and is happily playing (she sure is an easy-to-entertain little thing) and I'll deal with Otis whenever he wakes up.
Might go for a walk or pop down to the park before Isla's afternoon nap.
Yes, I CAN do it!!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
The gender debate...
I guess there are two separate gender debates I could discuss here. The first is, of course, the notion that bad mornng sickness indicates a female foetus. This is what many people strongly believe, and I am fielding plenty of very confident claims that my baby is without a doubt a girl. Time will tell. I for one doubt that gender can so easily be diagnosed. I am also in no hurry to know! Boy or girl, every passing day provides further evidence of its presence. My bump is big, bigger than the average 20 week bump at least, and I'm feeling lots of gentle swishes from within.
But what I wanted to talk about here is Otis' fascination with all things 'boy' — he shakes with anticipation when the garbage truck drives past (early Monday mornings are most thrilling at our place), opens his eyes wide and points at motorbikes whether they are passing by loudly or parked, and enjoys mimicking a crocodile's snapping jaws and an elephant raising it's trunk. Being the type of mother I am, I can assure you I in no way pushed these interests onto him. They just sprung from somewhere inside his brain. He has very few gender-specific items, one lonely dump truck and a book about trucks, a book about a racing car and a few others bits and pieces. Is this stuff really and truly inherently there from the moment of conception? Or perhaps it a case of us and his other carers encouraging, subconsciously, the interests we and society deem appropriate for him, and simply ignoring those that are feminine.
The truth is, I don't want my son to end up a macho, beer-swilling, emotionally immature, stereotypical male. I'm not saying he should dress in women's clothes or anything like that (although, if he does, I'll love him anyway), but my hope is that he turns out to be more like his father, and unafraid to be a little different. He does adore his Cabbage Patch, Zach, and gets real joy out of dressing him, wrapping him and patting him to sleep, so perhaps not all is lost. In the meantime I will do what I can to encourage an array of interest, including, I suppose, those of the transportation variety!
But what I wanted to talk about here is Otis' fascination with all things 'boy' — he shakes with anticipation when the garbage truck drives past (early Monday mornings are most thrilling at our place), opens his eyes wide and points at motorbikes whether they are passing by loudly or parked, and enjoys mimicking a crocodile's snapping jaws and an elephant raising it's trunk. Being the type of mother I am, I can assure you I in no way pushed these interests onto him. They just sprung from somewhere inside his brain. He has very few gender-specific items, one lonely dump truck and a book about trucks, a book about a racing car and a few others bits and pieces. Is this stuff really and truly inherently there from the moment of conception? Or perhaps it a case of us and his other carers encouraging, subconsciously, the interests we and society deem appropriate for him, and simply ignoring those that are feminine.
The truth is, I don't want my son to end up a macho, beer-swilling, emotionally immature, stereotypical male. I'm not saying he should dress in women's clothes or anything like that (although, if he does, I'll love him anyway), but my hope is that he turns out to be more like his father, and unafraid to be a little different. He does adore his Cabbage Patch, Zach, and gets real joy out of dressing him, wrapping him and patting him to sleep, so perhaps not all is lost. In the meantime I will do what I can to encourage an array of interest, including, I suppose, those of the transportation variety!
Friday, May 22, 2009
Pregnancy the second time around...
I'll be blunt — it hasn't been as nice an experience as the first. Of course, there is the unplanned, a-little-too-soon, scary element to contend with. I only started working in February, three weeks later I was pregnant. My fear of not having a job to return to after having my baby cast a real shadow over the first few weeks. I did what I could to mask my burgeoning belly and all-day nausea, to the point of downing two glasses of wine at a work function! Crazy, but we want (need) to buy a house next year, and my wage is a significant chunk of how much we need to be earning in order to do that. Anyway, my boss was fine, and, my job will be there come February/March next year. Phew!
Then there's the fact that I have a toddler on my hands, 24-7, and no time to indulge in the wonder of being pregnant. Sometimes it takes me a few minutes after I wake up in the morning before I even remember I am having another one! The truth is, the one already functioning in the world is the one I am forced to focus on, so Bubba #2 misses out a little.
I'm much more tired this time around — a combination of a still-wakeful baby (he's getting much, much better though), balancing work and motherhood, and being anti-meat this time around! Yes, I've pregnancy-induced vegetarianism, and I think the lack of iron is leaving me extra-exhausted. I've been sick since about 6 weeks, and I am now 16 1/2 weeks... It's lasted much longer, and has made mothering my boy so very hard. All the energy I've been able to muster I've given to him, in the form of cuddles, songs, walks, park visits and the sort of enthusiasm he's come to expect from me. There's been nothing left over for Phil, or for anyone else. I've barely seen any of my friends, I've been in bed by 9 almost every night. It's an odd sort of life. Luckily my little family is all I really need.
Cravings? Citrus, pineapple, anything with a tang to it. Chocolate milk. Vegetables. At work I've been really into vegie stir-fry. My Hokka Hokka loyalty card is filling up nicely...
Despite all of this, there is no denying the thrill of witnessing my body grow and change, of hearing my newest little one's heart thumping away, of fantasising about the relationship that will form between Otis and his sibling. I know how lucky I am, I do.
Then there's the fact that I have a toddler on my hands, 24-7, and no time to indulge in the wonder of being pregnant. Sometimes it takes me a few minutes after I wake up in the morning before I even remember I am having another one! The truth is, the one already functioning in the world is the one I am forced to focus on, so Bubba #2 misses out a little.
I'm much more tired this time around — a combination of a still-wakeful baby (he's getting much, much better though), balancing work and motherhood, and being anti-meat this time around! Yes, I've pregnancy-induced vegetarianism, and I think the lack of iron is leaving me extra-exhausted. I've been sick since about 6 weeks, and I am now 16 1/2 weeks... It's lasted much longer, and has made mothering my boy so very hard. All the energy I've been able to muster I've given to him, in the form of cuddles, songs, walks, park visits and the sort of enthusiasm he's come to expect from me. There's been nothing left over for Phil, or for anyone else. I've barely seen any of my friends, I've been in bed by 9 almost every night. It's an odd sort of life. Luckily my little family is all I really need.
Cravings? Citrus, pineapple, anything with a tang to it. Chocolate milk. Vegetables. At work I've been really into vegie stir-fry. My Hokka Hokka loyalty card is filling up nicely...
Despite all of this, there is no denying the thrill of witnessing my body grow and change, of hearing my newest little one's heart thumping away, of fantasising about the relationship that will form between Otis and his sibling. I know how lucky I am, I do.
Otis has OCD
He's a funny little thing... He freaks out if things aren't in their place. Or if something is torn, or uneven. Last night it was one of my hairs stuck to the rim of the bath. He pointed and grunted and made an "I am so disgusted" face until I removed it. The day before, it was a price sticker on a book I picked up for him at Vinnie's. Another time, the zipper in his sleepsuit came apart, and even after I managed to fix it, he kept pointing to the spot that was broken, a panicky look on his face.
Monday, May 4, 2009
HISTORIC OCCASION!!
Otis slept all night! He did not make a peep between 8pm and 6am.
I, of course, kept waking up and wondering whether he was alive.
I, of course, kept waking up and wondering whether he was alive.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
My growing boy...
Otis is doing so many funny things these days. This entry is mainly for me, it is a record of my bright and bubbly boy's ever-growing brain. It may be boring for you, or come off as bragging. It's just pride though, honestly, and a desire to remember it all...
He can walk! Finally, over the Easter weekend, he started off taking 10, 15 steps, and now walks more often than not. He seems to be being pulled along by an invisible rope, he doesn't appear able to entirely control the direction he is headed in. Priceless.
He's doing animal noises. Woofing when he sees actual, or illusrated, dogs, and growling at tigers. Gorgeous!
He loves to "read" all by himself. It doesn't matter whether the book is the right way up! He gets a thrill out of turning the pages and babbling. My mother-in-law said he mimics my tone of voice when he does this. I am so glad he likes books.
He can identify an elephant, and puts his arm up next to his head, like a trunk.
He hyperventilates over the noise or sight of a motorbike, garbage truck (absolute highlight of his week), semi-trailer, 4WD... I never, ever encouraged such masculine behaviour. It honestly just happened.
He loves Thomas and Friends (he sings along, unclearly but with pretty good pitch, to the theme song), In The Night Garden and Bambaloo. Also becoming interested in The Lion King.
Likes clapping for himself when he knows he's done something impressive.
Points out planes, even when they are only a speck in the sky, his eyes and ears obviously work well!
He loves to bite Phil's big toe, and to smell his own shoes and socks and feet. All part of the novelty of wearing shoes!
Sleeping well, waking 1 or 2 times a night, on average, and easy to re-settle.
I've moved him onto the NUK dummies, which are better for the teeth, and he loves them.
I just love him with more intensity every moment, he amazes me and makes me laugh, and I am so glad he's mine!
He can walk! Finally, over the Easter weekend, he started off taking 10, 15 steps, and now walks more often than not. He seems to be being pulled along by an invisible rope, he doesn't appear able to entirely control the direction he is headed in. Priceless.
He's doing animal noises. Woofing when he sees actual, or illusrated, dogs, and growling at tigers. Gorgeous!
He loves to "read" all by himself. It doesn't matter whether the book is the right way up! He gets a thrill out of turning the pages and babbling. My mother-in-law said he mimics my tone of voice when he does this. I am so glad he likes books.
He can identify an elephant, and puts his arm up next to his head, like a trunk.
He hyperventilates over the noise or sight of a motorbike, garbage truck (absolute highlight of his week), semi-trailer, 4WD... I never, ever encouraged such masculine behaviour. It honestly just happened.
He loves Thomas and Friends (he sings along, unclearly but with pretty good pitch, to the theme song), In The Night Garden and Bambaloo. Also becoming interested in The Lion King.
Likes clapping for himself when he knows he's done something impressive.
Points out planes, even when they are only a speck in the sky, his eyes and ears obviously work well!
He loves to bite Phil's big toe, and to smell his own shoes and socks and feet. All part of the novelty of wearing shoes!
Sleeping well, waking 1 or 2 times a night, on average, and easy to re-settle.
I've moved him onto the NUK dummies, which are better for the teeth, and he loves them.
I just love him with more intensity every moment, he amazes me and makes me laugh, and I am so glad he's mine!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Bringing Up Baby
I have recently been viewing Bringing Up Baby, a UK parenting documentary that screened on the ABC earlier this year. The premise — six familes test out three different approaches to parenting popularised during the 50s, 60s and 70s, respectively.
If I were to classify my own approach — taken not from any book, but derived through a combination of trial and error, instinct, common sense and love — it would probably be a mix of the 60s and 70s approaches. In the 60s, Dr Spock was the most popular of parenting gurus, and believed that you could not spoil a baby. Mothers were told to follow their own instinct and do whatever they felt comfortable with. Breastfeeding was advocated, but not pushed, and babies slept in cribs in their parents' bedrooms.
In the 70s, the Continuum Concept apparently took hold, and baby-wearing and co-sleeping became popular. Bottle feeding is not endorsed by practitioners of this approach. The general idea is that babies and mothers should be in close physical contact at all times, as continues to be practised in many tribal communities today.
I like the idea of the Continuum Concept in many ways, but I do believe that, as babies grow older, they tend to sleep better alone. Otis does, at any rate. I loved having him close as a newborn, and I'm sure I'll enjoy that experience with his little sibling, due to arrive in early November! (More on that in another post...) Baby-wearing is also something I enjoyed, but it is simply not true that you can do absolutely everything with a bubba strapped to your chest. It is very difficult to eat a messy meal, such as a kebab, for instance, without spilling sauce onto your baby's little head. It is also difficult to perform chores that require repetitive bending... Not as easy as it looks, I assure you. But I imagine I'll need my hands free like never before, when wrangling Otis and Sibling without any assistance on hand.
Now, to the point of this post. The 50s approach, as outlined by Truby King. What a vile, cold, monstrous individual he must have been, to have come up with such a method. According to King, babies should not be cuddled. They should be fed by the clock, swaddled and left outside to cry, and should, as a result of this detached approach, sleep twelve hours straight every night by the time they are twelve weeks of age. The appeal of this approach apparently lies in the fact that parents need not alter their lifestyle whatsoever. Adherence to King's strict routine allows parents plenty of time away from their babies to drink wine and watch TV. Because, you know, that is the whole point of becoming a parent.
King, and Claire Verity, the 'maternity nurse' who is employed by tired parents to instill King's methods, fills me with the type of rage I normally reserve for Rugby League-playing rapists. I was on the verge of tears watching these tiny week old bubs screaming, all alone, whilst their selfish, self-serving parents swilled cheap-looking wine and pigged out on pasta, offering one another self-congratulatory pats on the back for being able to tough it out and stick to the routine. What I want to know is:
1. Why have a baby if you do not wish for your life to change in even the smallest of ways?
2. Why is it that 'thriving' is so simplistically equated with 'sleeping through the night'?
3. How can a mother resist being physically affectionate with her own baby?
4. How can these selfish idiots sleep at night?
Honestly, I am all ears.
If I were to classify my own approach — taken not from any book, but derived through a combination of trial and error, instinct, common sense and love — it would probably be a mix of the 60s and 70s approaches. In the 60s, Dr Spock was the most popular of parenting gurus, and believed that you could not spoil a baby. Mothers were told to follow their own instinct and do whatever they felt comfortable with. Breastfeeding was advocated, but not pushed, and babies slept in cribs in their parents' bedrooms.
In the 70s, the Continuum Concept apparently took hold, and baby-wearing and co-sleeping became popular. Bottle feeding is not endorsed by practitioners of this approach. The general idea is that babies and mothers should be in close physical contact at all times, as continues to be practised in many tribal communities today.
I like the idea of the Continuum Concept in many ways, but I do believe that, as babies grow older, they tend to sleep better alone. Otis does, at any rate. I loved having him close as a newborn, and I'm sure I'll enjoy that experience with his little sibling, due to arrive in early November! (More on that in another post...) Baby-wearing is also something I enjoyed, but it is simply not true that you can do absolutely everything with a bubba strapped to your chest. It is very difficult to eat a messy meal, such as a kebab, for instance, without spilling sauce onto your baby's little head. It is also difficult to perform chores that require repetitive bending... Not as easy as it looks, I assure you. But I imagine I'll need my hands free like never before, when wrangling Otis and Sibling without any assistance on hand.
Now, to the point of this post. The 50s approach, as outlined by Truby King. What a vile, cold, monstrous individual he must have been, to have come up with such a method. According to King, babies should not be cuddled. They should be fed by the clock, swaddled and left outside to cry, and should, as a result of this detached approach, sleep twelve hours straight every night by the time they are twelve weeks of age. The appeal of this approach apparently lies in the fact that parents need not alter their lifestyle whatsoever. Adherence to King's strict routine allows parents plenty of time away from their babies to drink wine and watch TV. Because, you know, that is the whole point of becoming a parent.
King, and Claire Verity, the 'maternity nurse' who is employed by tired parents to instill King's methods, fills me with the type of rage I normally reserve for Rugby League-playing rapists. I was on the verge of tears watching these tiny week old bubs screaming, all alone, whilst their selfish, self-serving parents swilled cheap-looking wine and pigged out on pasta, offering one another self-congratulatory pats on the back for being able to tough it out and stick to the routine. What I want to know is:
1. Why have a baby if you do not wish for your life to change in even the smallest of ways?
2. Why is it that 'thriving' is so simplistically equated with 'sleeping through the night'?
3. How can a mother resist being physically affectionate with her own baby?
4. How can these selfish idiots sleep at night?
Honestly, I am all ears.
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