It’s almost 2025 Part 2

It’s the last week of kindy. 4 days left, assuming she doesn’t come down with some last minute bug as children do. She is going to truly miss one particular teacher that she has connected with, and who takes such good care of her. I have tried to speak to her about the fact that she needs to say goodbye to Miss Trish, but she assures me that she has invited Miss Trish to her birthday party (in April) and that she’s coming. (She’s not.)

This is going to break her heart as much as leaving Miss Charlotte at daycare last year did. E does not connect with many people - and indeed we have been told by her teachers that she doesn’t have specific friends at kindy - but when she does, it’s intense.

We have been given our class for Prep next year, and the two kids we were hoping for are not in her class, so that’s going to be rough too. But hopefully they have thought it through and put her with kids that will be good for her. She has had multiple transition days at big school for the staff to observe the children’s interactions.

Our biggest challenge that we see for school in 2025 is demand avoidance. E is incredibly smart and driven when it is something that she wants to do, or her idea. The moment you add your opinion, even just a suggestion, she refuses. She has even flat out said “I don’t want to do this because it was YOUR idea.” It makes it difficult even when it comes to things like getting dressed or teeth brushing. We have to be careful what language we use when making requests. For instance if I need to stop at Bunnings on the way home I will say “on the way home, we are stopping at Bunnings to buy X.” Which makes it a simple definitive statement of what is happening. The moment I say “can we stop at Bunnings” or “is it ok if we stop at Bunnings” she will categorically shut down and refuse.

So that’s fun…

next year I will be returning to part time work so that I can be more present and reduce the amount of time that E has to attend before and after school care. Watch this space…

It’s almost 2025 Part 1

 It’s almost 2025 and here we are.  One week of kindy left before the summer holidays arrive and then before we know it, Big School (or “Prep” as we say in QLD) will be upon us.

I have a lot of words and a lot of thoughts tumbling through my head, and need somewhere to write some of it down, so here I am.  Whether that lasts is yet to be seen.

I just read through one of my most “recent” blog posts if you can call it that, and it’s amazing how distant the terrible twos are, when you’re in the tumultuous fours.  As David wisely told me once or twice “it doesn’t get better, it just gets different”. 

Little Miss E continues to amaze, and continues to challenge and amuse us.  She is a bright and busy child and loves to be active, climbing and riding her bike, or playing with her toy Schleich animals or mouse dollhouse.  She is not particularly a girly girl although she does love makeup (a full body experience), jewellery and dresses.  At the same time, she does not play with dolls, but does occasionally dress-up.

She also strongly objects categorically to do anything somebody else wants her to do, whether or not she was already doing it in the first place.  Unsurprisingly, most people notice this, and I wonder what opinions this gives them about us, about our parenting.  It’s a wild ride, this whole being a parent in 2024, under a social media microscope.  Back “in my day”, I doubt my parents had much idea of what we were doing with our time, as long as we turned up for dinner. 

To add: it doesn’t actually MATTER what others think about our parenting, but it does sometimes hurt.  And it’s made harder by the fact that I don’t want to carry around a flag that says “my child has autism” because I want to protect her too.

There, I said it.  It’s a thing, it’s out there in the great unknown, perhaps for no one to read, or are you?  For four years and almost 8 months we have known and loved this girl child.  She is ours, she is undeniably the result of David and myself - and our genetics.  Some of him with some of me thrown in there, muddled around and spat out into this wild haired bright eyed wildling who puts people in their places without the blink of an eye.

Would you be you, if you weren’t the you that you are?  Would I change any part of you?  No… but I would change how the world sees you.  I would change the perspective behind the eyes that observe you, that observe us.  When you melt down with such big emotions because I made a choice for you, I can see.  When you speak your mind so boldly, it’s funny now because you’re four, but I can see.  When you run, and climb, and twirl, while the others are actually listening, I can see.  I can see you when it’s not funny anymore because you’re not four anymore, and it hurts because I want to protect you.  

It’s also very hard to talk to anyone about any of it.  A comment about what we’re struggling with right now (food, extreme pickiness, refusing even safe foods she enjoyed before) is met with “well all children are fussy” or “X won’t eat vegetables either, it doesn’t mean she’s autistic.”  Or even knowing what to say to a fellow kindy parent when your child screeches like a banshee and runs away in tears because the other child gets on the seesaw at the same time as them.  

I have so much to learn… and right now, I have no one to teach me. 

Once again it has been awhile.  2022 has hit us almost with a bigger shock wave than 2021.  The latest on the news is widespread flooding across Eastern Australia plus of course the war in the Ukraine.  It all puts any issues we might have into the insignificant box.  The last weekend, a significant portion of SEQLD flooded - and we were lucky to get away with a damp laundry and some water damaged wood in the garage.  We had spent the weekend in Tasmania visiting Dave’s daughter, and our trip home was affected by the weather - we got diverted into the Gold Coast, had to take a bus from there to Brisbane, and then drive home a very round about way to avoid all of the flooded roads.  But we did get home safely, and all was well.  

We are now looking in to booking our flights to UK/Ireland for July/August and feeling nervous about not only possible Covid disruptions but also war in Europe.  Could it spread?  Could we be heading into WWIII?  Nobody knows at this point.  And other than all of that our biggest issue is trying to work out how to get a car seat in London Heathrow!  

Watching the rain fall down 

The banshee

Mum guilt is the worst.  Getting up yesterday, I felt guilty that E had spent the previous day at daycare and had only 1 day with me before going back for 2 more daycare days… I was so determined to be a fun mum and have a fun day with my little nugget.

Unfortunately the little nugget had other plans.  We started by going outside and playing with bubbles - which she then wanted to hold, saying “turn! Turn! Turn!” Trying to convince her that I would hold the base while she held the wand were unsuccessful, after which she dumped the bubble solution out everywhere, and completely melted down about “BUBBLES!”  I suggested that we do some painting, and she very enthusiastically cried “Pent! Pent! Pent-ing “ while I got it all set up.  A few brush strokes on the paper and a few on her belly and she lost interest, so I got the hose.  She enjoyed pouring the water on the paint for a little bit and then started crying for bubbles again.

Sorry love, the bubbles are all gone.  Cue extreme meltdown and it was only about 8am.  We tried a bath… she cried for bubbles the entire time, and then announced “poo poo” so we very quickly got out and got a nappy on before she followed through! (Success!)

At this point, it was really getting hot outside and no shade on the patio so I suggested we play inside.  Nope, she wanted bubbles.  And chips (“dippies”) so I got her chips, which she screamed at and flung on the floor, so I got her water bottle, which she flung angrily out of my hands.  She didn’t want to play with her play couch, or read a book, or play with anything except for bubbles and a) too hot outside b) there were no bubbles left!!!

By 9:45 I took her to a quiet room to try to calm her hysterical screaming, and she fell asleep… waking by 1015 which was terrible as it meant no later nap at all.  She immediately started screaming for bubbles again, and to go “ousside”.  I tried all sorts of distractions, shall we go in the car?  Finally at 12 we did go in the car and I drove around aimlessly for an entire hour trying to get her to sleep again.  She screamed for “tinkle” (twinkle twinkle little star) and screamed louder and more angrily if I put it on, and all in general made me want to either run away forever, or hide in a dark corner and never come back out. 

When we got home, I gathered up all of our swimming stuff, while she watched Cocomelon, fed it lunch (it screamed) and we headed out to Redcliffe to the lagoon (tinkle tinkle bubbles BUBBLES!!!) but although it was 30 degrees it was also windy so she only lasted about 20 mins in the pool - but at least that was 20 mins during which she wasn’t screaming at me.  

After that, it was after 3, so I figured we may as well stay in Redcliffe for the afternoon, get fish and chips and come back for an early bedtime.  E decided she wanted to push the wagon and then started screaming and melting down because I videoed her pushing the wagon.

She then melted down because she didn’t want to ride in the wagon any more and wanted a cuddle (“duddle”) to which I obliged… and then David who had joined us took her to give my back a break… and she screamed and screamed hysterically for Mummy.  So I took her back so he could go and get takeaway fish and chips because we couldn’t dine in with THAT noise, and she screamed DADDY DADDY DADDDYYYYYYY because he walked away.

It was that kind of day.

Yet here I am with real live pictures of her seemingly having fun, which make a mockery of how the day actually went…

Honestly by the time she was in bed asleep (half an hour early thankfully) I just flopped on the couch and lay there unmoving for 30 mins, without even the energy to scroll on my phone.

So here I am, it’s Wednesday, I am on call and my brat is at daycare and I am SO VERY THANKFUL for daycare and again tomorrow!  It’s so quiet and no one is screaming at me.  HURRAH!!!!!!!!

I am so very tired!  E is just getting over gastro (still not sleeping though) and Dave now thinks he is getting it too, so wish us luck

While I rest my tried self on the outdoor couch, E is drizzling the hose into the sandpit and emptying her bubbles into the water tub so all fun and games… nope now she has added bark to the mix.  YUM.

Anyway all to say I have no energy right now so I will come back later…

One and done (and a bonus child!)

Not everyone’s journey to parenthood is an easy one. 

Pics from yesterday’s jaunt to Nudgee Beach

I have just been listening to a podcast I enjoy, after a hiatus while they moved house, and this is a comment that stood out to me.  I do sometimes wonder what our family would look like if it WAS an easy journey - or indeed if it continued to be an easy journey rather than an every day uphill battle through babyhood and toddlerhood and all of the messes and tantrums and exhaustion that comes with it.

Where someone got horrifically muddy but had a great time

But here we are, our family of 3 and very very occasionally a family of 4 when my bonus daughter comes to stay with us.  Last time she stayed was for E’s birthday in April, and she is coming again to share Christmas with us.  This is very much anxiety inducing for me - I don’t know what she enjoys at Christmas, what she is used to doing at Christmas, and I hope that what we offer will be good enough!  I also worry about her relationship with E.  When she last met E (second time ever), E was very much still a baby, while now she is a toddler with Very Real Opinions and also Very Loud Opinions and I hope that they continue to bond - tough for a previously only child to have to share her dad also - and tough for my only child too! 

playing in the holes left by sting rays 

I didn’t intend this post to be about C’s trip but I guess that’s the way it is going.  She is arriving on Christmas Eve and staying with us for 10 days - which Dave has off as his uni closes over the Christmas period.  We have bought her a very nice Christmas present - unfortunately it is tech which made us twitch a little given how much tech she already has, but really we don’t get the chance to be involved very much with her life so it would be difficult for us - and for her - to change anything in just 10 days!  What is harder, for me, is that her “very nice” tech package is also very small size wise - while Emily’s presents are very bulky.  Will she try to compare?  Will she be jealous?  How do we make both children equal, especially when C will be going home to a second lot of Christmas presents from her other family, which E will not have?  Can we make them equal?  Is it wrong?  So much cause for my brain to go into hyperdrive anxiety mode!  Part of me wonders whether we should give E part of her Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve before C arrives! 😂. It’s not like E will know any better as she is still very small.

And that, folks, is where my brain is at.

Not really the statement I started this post with, but maybe I will expand on that some other time! 

A short update

It’s me again

I got a little lost in my last post and not quite sure where to start again so you’ll have to bear with me and wait for the muse to come back.  Plus, I’m tired due to my toddler deciding it needs to wake all night and not nap properly.  The worst.

“Walking” the dog

We are currently working on upgrading the chair in the nursery - I had hoped that the old marketplace purchase would survive long enough for us to “get by”, but she shows no sign of being ready to discontinue nursing or being held to sleep, and our chair shows every sign of collapsing into a pile of sawdust on the spot.

Dancing in the post storm flood

In other news, I have finished my block of “rolling stand down” which means I should get my next pay - and I have 2 flying days rostered before the end of the month, so fingers crossed they don’t get cancelled again.  It sounds as though we will have more flying in November due to borders beginning to open between states.  NSW have announced that they are opening international borders but QLD are staunchly waiting until 90% vaccinated so it will still be a few months before we can travel overseas. Mentally I am already preparing for this! 

This is just a short post to say I am still here… maybe my muse is gone because I have cut down my calories.  Furiously trying to lose the baby weight 18 months post baby… it is HARD, folks.  You have no idea how much I want to eat all of the carbs.

Who we are Pt 1

 How were you raised, and how has that affected who you are?  And, perhaps more importantly, how has it affected how you are raising (or have raised) your kid(s)?

These are questions that I am asking myself.  I think that in general my parents were good (great?) parents.  I think, as all humans, they had their faults, and in some ways I either act or react due to these faults, as do I from their strengths.  I think that the environment in which I was raised also plays a big part in who I am, and how I am raising my daughter - and whether you can accredit that to my parents or not is up to you. 

When I think about my parents, when I was a child, the word I think of is “present”.  My parents were always present for me.  From a very young age I can remember “hanging out” in my dad’s office, using up vast quantities of his hot melt glue stringing “webs” across the room, using almost equally large quantities of solder making towers of molten metal.  I can remember excavating little buildings out of polystyrene and running electrical circuits inside to poke bright LED lights out of the windows.  Playing “Jill of the Jungle” on an ancient PC.  

Most weekends (in my memory) we would either go places or do things “as a family”.  In an environment where so much was communal/shared it was important to my parents to ensure we were a well knit family unit.  In the summer we used to picnic at the “water hole” where we swam in the deep red-brown water, coloured from running through the peat bogs in the mountains.  We found a dead sheep there once, and the sandy shallows were often decorated with fresh (and not so fresh) sheep droppings.  One of my brothers tried to drown me there - my memory, probably not his.  He held my head under the water until I managed to get him to let go by scratching and biting, coming to the surface panicked and screaming.  As an adult, I have a strong fear of being trapped or cornered - I wonder if that experience could have something to do with it?  As my brother was many years older than me at the time, I wonder whether my behaviour had caused his action?  Of course, I have no memory of any of this, only of the trauma - and unfortunately sometimes the trauma is the only thing that sticks with you, despite all of its happy surroundings.

I can remember going to the shopping centre on a Saturday with Mum.  She would often drop me (and sometimes my older sister) at the library and I would spend hours engrossed in our books - my favourites being Biggles’ books and the Chalet School series, so I suppose I could’ve been anywhere from 10-15.  After the library, I would walk over to the Square and buy myself a snack (often chocolate or Mighty Munch) and a soda (Club Orange, Lilt or Cidona, three things that Australia sadly lacks).  And on the dot of 3:30 I would go to our assigned meeting place outside Bewley’s to meet Mum.

If you asked my sister, or either of my brothers about our childhood, they would have very different memories than me.  Their childhoods were busy, and full of people and children, while I can remember being lonely, of not having anyone, and turning to books and the internet in a bid to find some connection.  Listening to Simon and Garfunkel to somehow share their loneliness.

“Hiding in my room

Safe within my womb

I touch no one and no one touches me…

I am a rock, I am an island.

…and a rock feels no pain,

And an island never cries.”

It wasn’t always like that.  As a young child, there were around 5 children my age in the community.  My best friend as a very small child left the community not long after I had started school.  I can remember when their family left, they strapped a washing machine onto the trailer, I suppose it was a gift from the community.  I can’t remember much other than that.  Then we were down to four - two boys about a year older than me, and a girl 2 years older and we were all in the same class.  We were technically home schooled, but as it was a community and all of the children were home schooled there, it was more like a very small private school with set teachers, subjects and lesson times.  Holidays were rostered and when on holiday, you were assigned to an adult and put to work - weeding, cleaning, or whatever the task of the day was.

I don’t think of that part of school as a negative or a positive memory.  It was, and therefore it is.  I never particularly enjoyed school, I would have preferred to be in the great outdoors gambolling with my pet lambs or climbing trees and damming the stream.  Unfortunately in Western Society at least, school is something We Must Do and therefore We Did It.  My parents felt strongly and negatively about the public/state school system, about what it taught both societal and educational, and so they made the decision to raise their children away from all of that.  “In the world but not of the world” was a popular Biblical phrase.  We were called to be “set apart” and set apart we were.  And for my younger years, being set apart wasn’t all that bad.  

It was somewhere between the ages of 10 and 14, I would say, that being “set apart” became more apart than it was before.  The community began to change more than it ever had previously.  People had always come and go - it was never a case of community being forever.  Families were free to leave, although it wasn’t encouraged.  There was a sense that the people who stayed were doing it right, listening to God and their calling, so there was definitely an us versus them undercurrent.  But in my tween/early teen years, almost everyone left.  And when I say almost everyone - the community dwindled to just 11 people - and I was the only child left.  One after another, my classmates (who I wasn’t very close to anyway) left.

My then closest friend, outside the community, also homeschooled (I presume my parents were aware that I needed a friend) moved with her family to the UK.  Of course, my memories are just memories, so the timeline is probably not entirely accurate, but once it was only me I spent a lot of time in my room.  I played some games on the internet, chatted in chat rooms to strangers (somehow always safely, but WHAT were my parents thinking???) and read an insane number of books.  I studied alone, and took my exams in a tutorial centre in Dublin. 

If you had asked me then, I wouldn’t have known that I was lonely.  I don’t think I would have asked to go to school - not that it was an option.  I don’t think my mind would have computed that anything at all was wrong.  And of course, this hasn’t even touched on the religious part of our lives.

Every August there was a Youth Camp for the teenagers, 13 and up.  My birthday was in September, and the year I was going to turn 13, all of my peers (the ones who had left, the ones who remained, ones from overseas…) went to Youth Camp, and I was not allowed to go.  I sat outside the closed door during meetings, listening to the speakers preach.  I watched the kids in their group activities, sports, I watched as they all trooped downstairs to eat in the long tables set up in a separate room from everyone else like me.  I think that is my very first oh so vivid memory of being “apart”, being “different” - and this was just because of age!  It made such a massive impact on me because I was the only one left out.  In future years, kids who “barely missed out” were allowed to take part - but it was too late to change that year for me.  

I am not an only child.  I am the youngest of four - my brothers are 10 and 8 years older than me, my sister is 5.5 years older than me.  When I was 8, my eldest brother left home, and when I was 10, my second brother followed him.  My sister was my playmate for a short time as a child, but she soon grew too old for dolls, barbies and the like.  My female classmate, 2 years older than me, worked for awhile until she “grew up” too, moving on to boys and makeup, two things that never interested me, before then moving to America.  

The boys used to make me do trials in the community grounds to prove that, as a girl, I was tough enough to hang out with them.  Although as a girl I was forced to either wear dresses or skirts (trousers were forbidden for females), I still managed to climb trees with the rest.  I would walk tightropes of thin branches, climb trees and jump, on a rope swing, to plunge into holly bushes to prove my worth.  I would never, ever let anyone think that I could be scared - or a GIRL.  Being a boy was so much better.  Boys got to wear shorts and trousers.  Boys were the heirs, and kept their father’s name.  Boys got to work outside the community in real jobs, boys were tough and never had to clean the house or cook community dinners.  When I grew up, I was going to have boys, lots and lots of BOYS.  I had all their names picked out already.  

Did my parents think boys were better?  I doubt that was even subconsciously their thought.  They surely supported me when I decided I wanted to become a pilot.  They had my back when an elder disagreed.  My parents always had my back.

So, why the negativity?   Why the anxiety, why the PRESSURE?  Why the overwhelming feeling, the fear of never being enough?  

My teenage years were rough.  I never rebelled.  I went to school and I passed my exams and I took over the farm at age 15 and raised sheep and goats and I loved it.  At age 17 I finished school, and at 18 I started flying.  So how was it rough?  Why was it rough, and what about my parents?

And I think this post has gotten far to long…

So TBC…

Some people

 Some people are incredibly narrow minded and selfish.  I read it on the news, on social media etc, all the time.  For instance the border closure warriors who DEMAND we keep QLD borders closed forever.  Protect our State!  Protect our people!  I presume they don’t have family outside of the state!  I have a colleague (now ex colleague) who has just taken a job in the US simply because his kids are in the Netherlands and he hasn’t got to see them for almost 2 years due to border closures.  His only way to resume contact with his direct family is to leave his job, his life, etc here in Australia and move to another country.  

We have just passed the 2 year mark of visiting our loved ones in the UK and Ireland and it hurts.  It hurts the most that I haven’t been able to introduce my little girl to her family.  Her grandparents, aunts, uncles, her myriads of cousins.  Here we are in our little “island”, protected for sure, living an amazing Covid-free life… but so so isolated.  At Christmas we are hoping to see my step daughter for just the second time this year - that’s insane!  There have been so many interstate border closures, or threatened closures, that David hasn’t been able to head down to Tasmania even for a couple of days, without risking not being able to get back to his family for MONTHS.  That is a real danger, and has happened to too many people already, and it’s the SAME country.

It is looking more positive now that things will begin to open up again.  Vaccination rates are rising and premiers are beginning to promise the easing of restrictions.  But in one breath they say international travel will resume in December, and in the next they extend aviation relief payments to March, so I honestly don’t know.  It almost makes me want to move back to Ireland - but I know we can’t do that either, right now.  Just one example of why is that C needs her dad, even a couple of times a year is better than nothing, going into the difficult teenage years etc. 

So here we are… still waiting.  And I know we are SO SO lucky to live in Queensland.  We have only experienced a handful of 3 day lockdowns, with 8 days being our longest.  Melbourne, for instance, has broken the world record for days locked down - I believe over 260?  And here we are, mask wearing our only restriction - and not leaving the state.  Fingers crossed that won’t be forever!!!! 

It is eerily quiet in my house, because the spawn is on her way to daycare with David.  If all goes according to plan, 2 full days spawn-free are ahead of me.  Today, I plan to go for a run, give the dog a haircut, and attempt to tackle the wreck that used to be our front lawn.  When the pool was put in, the lawn was used first as a pathway, then for a crane to rest once then to deposit crusher dust and gravel, and then for tiles to be cut and tile glue to be both mixed and apparently poured out on the long suffering grass.  All of that to say, it now looks like a building that site with a few tufts of grass poking through.  I haven’t got a clue how to fix it, but someone suggested starting by bashing at it with a steel rake, I’m good at bashing, so I’m gonna do that.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

Yesterday I took the spawn to a dance and play cafe and we overstayed our welcome and she got overtired and only napped 20 minutes.  It always seems like a good idea at the time - oh she’s happy enough, I’ll chat for another few minutes… and then we always end up regretting it!  At least it meant an early night and then Dave and I were able to actually enjoy our dinner (lamb Rogan Josh) in peace (in front of Blindspot on Netflix, in case you’re wondering).

It’s a strange feeling when the spawn is gone.  On the one hand, I LOVE having the day to myself, being able to do anything and everything (within reason as technically I’m on reserve).  But at the same time, the weird brain response that is Mum-hood deeply misses the tiny tyrant.  It is SO needed, this break, but those little cheeks are oh so kissable.

 

(Having the best time climbing on her Whatsie play couch)

(making a god-awful mess in my house while I tried to fold laundry)

In other news, I have zero idea how to properly format these posts using the Blogger website on my phone rather than an app, so I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with some left aligned, some Centre aligned, and pictures simply plonked down where Blogger decides to put them. 
 

No more birthday party

(For attention, a little bean giving its daddy a good morning hug)

 Now I’m just feeling sorry for myself.  

Everybody except for 1 person has canceled on my party tomorrow.  And that made me feel sad.  Before that, I closed the car boot on my head and that made me feel angry, and then it gave me a headache (yes, in that order), and then Emily started whinging at me and that made my headache worse and I slammed the garage door as hard as I could (she was already in the car, don’t worry) to try to let out some of the frustration, but other than making a really loud noise, it didn’t actually help.

And I’ve just checked my roster and I have lost all of my remaining flying for the month (I had six flights left) and now that has made me feel Even More Sad, and I am officially Feeling Sorry For Myself.

*sigh*

Just thought you should know. 

So what should I do with this extremely-free weekend?  If anyone actually reads this blog any more, ideas please!

Age is just a number

A photo just for attention of my child of the pandemic helping herself to hand sanitiser 
 

Age is just a number

This coming weekend, another year is done and my age increases yet again.  Even with a mask on, I often don’t get ID’d any more when I buy alcohol, and when I smile there are the beginnings of lines around my mouth and the corners of my eyes.  When I brush my hair, I notice more and more grey appearing as time goes by.

I don’t feel old, although that said, what does old feel like?  Sometimes I creak a little when I get up in the morning, or when I’ve done some unexpected exercise.  I don’t think I feel any different than I did as a teenager.  It’s strange how we change - and then maybe we stop changing.  Our bodies grow older, and perhaps we grow more tired, or maybe that’s just the addition of children and less sleep… but I am still me.  Do others change their opinions of me?  

I don’t feel like an adult, most of the time.  In a social setting I often feel like a fish out of water, trying to keep up with the conversation and understand the nuances.  One on one, I do okay, but when there are many people in a group I panic and lose track of the conversation.  Maybe that is something to do with progressive hearing loss - I don’t technically have hearing loss, but I struggle to hear an individual speak when there is a lot of background noise or cross conversation.  

I have decided to throw myself a birthday party.  I have a swimming pool for the very first time, so we are going to enjoy bubbly (strictly not champagne because I’m a cheapskate), doughnuts and cake, and I believe David is planning a barbecue to add a little savoury to the overwhelming sweetness.  I have only invited four people, I hope they come, but when trying to think of who to invite, I couldn’t actually think of anyone else here who is truly my friend.

I have friends overseas who I would invite, I have a friend or two in Melbourne who can’t get up here because of lockdown and border closures, but they’re not close friends.  They’re not people I would talk to all of the time.  In fact, of the four I have invited, only two would be in that category.  The others, in a way, were “numbers” but I couldn’t think of more to add.  I am not the kind of person who needs “quantity”, but prefers “quality”.  And if nobody ends up coming, I get to eat all of the cake and doughnuts and that has to be a good thing!

All this really says very little, and instead is just the meandering of my mind.  Maybe that also comes with age!  

I am not an old mother, nor a young mother, but in the more recent societal normal of career THEN kids.  I don’t feel old amongst my mum friends although I am the oldest of one of the groups.  Is this because I get down and dirty with my kid?  I never want to be the parent who sits on the sidelines watching while E plays, or swims, or adventures.  I want to be doing it all with her, participating in her childhood, her life.  So fingers crossed, I won’t Get Old or Grow Up too quickly.

 I’ve just finished day 1 of my recurrent sim - a biannual occurrence which never fails to fill me with stress and anxiety.  I finished at midday today, and have felt completely exhausted and lethargic ever since, a physical side effect of this stress and anxiety.  The hardest thing I have found about being part time is how rusty I feel All The Time.  I am currently working 50%, but that is not helped by Covid, and border closures, which actually mean I am only flying once or twice a month.  I assume that once flying is back to normal, flying 2-3 times a week would be perfect - but right now I am strongly considering increasing my work days from a 5 day to a 7 day fortnight.  The thing is, it makes me feel incredibly guilty about being away from E that many days. 

A large part of parenthood so far, is discontent.  I’m not sure if that’s even the right word.  So many words can fit the bill, words such as sleepless, exhausted, irritated, exasperated, and sometimes even downright angry.  Nothing can begin to come close to describe the deep deep love I have for my daughter - how I would do absolutely anything for her - but when you’ve had little sleep, and a tiny tyrant is either rolling around on the floor screaming, or pulling at your clothes whining, sometimes you just don’t want to deal with it any more - and I guess “getting” to be away from her more (daycare/work) both brings relief AND guilt that I could possibly enjoy time without her. And I miss her too - deeply!

When we are together, I try to be the fun mum.  We go out a lot, we go to play centres, for walks (or jogging - me, not her), we go to the petting farm, we have even found a little toddler disco that she loves. And when she is busy and having fun she is oh so lovely. - and then we come home and Mum tries to have a cup of tea and then all hell breaks loose.  Or then when she wakes up first thing in the morning, and gives you the biggest grin and wraps her little arms around your neck… oh I never want those moments to end…

So, all this to say, I would love to be less rusty at work, and I would love to fly more - but I would also love to Have More Time with E, and Enjoy Her More (not always compatible with each other)… so I am somewhat torn.  I will probably have to increase my hours at work soon, but that doesn’t make it an easy call to make.

 Other people’s opinions

When I was young, I don’t know, maybe 11-13 years old, I can clearly remember being outside in the garden, where a friend 2 years older than me and her mother openly laughed at me because I hadn’t started shaving my legs yet.

The first chance I got, I shaved my legs, and I have continued to do so my entire adult life.  Any time the hair even begins to show, I feel hideous, embarrassed, and remember the feeling of being laughed at.  But having leg hair is completely natural - isn’t it?

and there we have it - other people’s opinions, and how they influence our lives, and our life choices.

The biggest “opinion” I face on a relatively regular basis, is the opinion that I cannot “only” have one child.  “She’ll be lonely,” people say, in their all-knowing wisdom.  “What if something happens to her?” is another gem.  Well, for a start, no matter how many children I hypothetically had, losing one would be JUST as tragic and very much not replaced by their having a sibling!

People, the vast majority of them strangers, assume that they have the right to hold this opinion on how many children our family contains.  And for some reason, I often feel like I have to lay bare my soul, explain to the tiniest detail why we have made this decision.  Why should I have to share my birth story with a stranger?  Since when did they have any right to know our family’s financial situation, for instance.

It is quite incredible how much we value other people’s opinion.  Frankly, the only reason “another child” has ever been in my mind at all, is the thought of how others might view our one-and-done family.  

This platform, for now at least, is not somewhere that I want to share my birth story.  If you know me, and you want to ask, without demanding that I populate the world, or give my child “the greatest gift” of another human being for their very own (maybe a puppy would be more appropriate?) then I would be happy to share more with you.  I am merely exploring the idea that others really think they should have an opinion.

I have been listening to a podcast lately, and it has really made me think a lot about this.  Someone’s seemingly innocent question of “when are you having another one?” could be vastly inappropriate.  What if that family had suffered miscarriages before, or after, their living child was born?  What if they desperately had wanted a second and that was never to be?  I admit that I have been one of these people to ask these inappropriate questions.  Childless myself, at the time, and thinking nothing of it.  It all changes when you become a recipient of these opinions yourself. 

I can remember someone saying “it’s not a family unless you have at least 3 children”.  WOW.  Pretty much sure that gem needs its own paragraph.

When I was younger, I thought I would have more than one child.  In fact, I have always loved names, and from a child I have had a whole list of names to call my offspring, which changed every now and then - but in the end I didn’t use a single one, but chose a completely different name instead.  I used to think I would want boys (having been told, at least through actions, that “boys are better”) but when I actually fell pregnant, I desperately wanted a girl - and got one.  In fact, when I met David, I told him I only wanted one child, although I also changed that to “maybe two, 3 years apart”.  But now, we are very firmly back to One and Done, and we really shouldn’t have to justify it to anyone.

And before you, dear audience, say “but you could change your mind” etc etc.  Yes, we COULD, and if we do, that is our choice once again, and doesn’t mean we were wrong, or listened to any of you, or pretty much anything.  

And in the meantime - please stop.  If you have an opinion on someone’s family size, just keep it to yourself?  It really, really isn’t helpful, and sometimes it downright hurts. 

A very small update

There is very little to say!  Since my last post, I have been home, waiting for this small child to arrive, and trying not to go completely mad.  It helps that I am an introvert - although an extroverted introvert most of the time (yes, that’s a thing).  Up until last week, I was swimming most days at Settlement Cove in Redcliffe.

During the week it has been very quiet and gloriously relaxing to paddle around without feeling the weight of my ever expanding middle.

However, last week the weather changed to about 10Degrees colder (so still mid 20s) and it doesn’t really feel like swimming weather any more.  Now, I’m trying to go for a walk twice a day to try to walk Bub out!

Lily is loving all of the walks!

I am now 39 weeks and 3 days and The Child is due on Sunday (Mothering Sunday).  It is definitely becoming a little concerning with the virus around so I am not going anywhere with Concentrated People, like shopping centres, for the foreseeable future.  There doesn’t seem to be much if any research on the effects of this thing on newborns, so better safe than sorry!

We are hoping that The Child decides to grace us with her presence soon - I’m not sure I can get much bigger!  But they won’t book an induction until 40+10

which I believe is 1 April.

We shall see...

Last night was our last (of five ) antenatal classes, and I’m looking forward to having our Thursday evenings back!  This week has been particularly busy with Monday night at C&A’s house, Wednesday at J&E’s, last night antenatal and then tonight a friend of Dave’s and his family are coming for dinner.  Bring on a quiet weekend!

Part of the last class was to visit the birthing suite, and it was very strange being up there.  Seeing the bed and all of the equipment like incubators, stirrups, etc. made me feel like an alien, completely out of place.  I didn’t feel like I belonged there, I looked at all of the other women and their partners and thought ah yes, they’re all having babies, but I didn’t feel like that myself.  I’m a pilot, I’m not one of these!  It was very surreal.

A slightly funny note was during the class when we were all instructed to dress and swaddle dolls, which was very easy (it was demonstrated first) and I was joking around as usual (and finished first) and the midwife asked “so, Kate, what do you do for a job?”  It was quite amusing to reply “I’m a pilot,” and see the stunned faces!  “I was not expecting that!” she said.  I’m not sure if it was the joking around that prompted the question, or the quick and efficient dressing of the doll, but it was amusing!

We have also had lots of practise swaddling the dog (this photo is from August!)

From next Monday, I apparently have to get doctors’ certificates to say I could work, if work wanted me to work (which they don’t), in other words, to ensure that I keep getting paid.  I’m hoping to get paid for another 3 weeks (up to 37 weeks) at least before going on official ‘maternity leave.’  So 3 exceedingly pointless trips to the doctor!  I haven’t worked since Christmas, when I stopped flying, but work didn’t have any office work (‘safe work’) for me to do, so they have just been paying me to sit at home.

I have, however, managed to use my sitting at home usefully!  I am currently working on filling a chest freezer with meals.  It’s not a large freezer - 146L I believe - but we got it secondhand off FB marketplace and it is very satisfying to fill.  So far, I have made enchiladas, lasagne, tuna fish pie and cottage pie.  Not sure what the next recipe will be, but I accept ideas!  These meals are for when Joey comes home from the hospital, although with Dave home the first couple of weeks, I will probably try to save most for when he starts his new job on 14 April.

So many cottage pies!

On the subject of Dave’s new job, that is also news.  Dave was asked to interview at a company last year - probably in May or June, if memory serves me right.  He never even applied for the job - but after interviewing, they said he did really well but they didn’t actually know if they needed him!  In November, he suddenly got a call saying “can you start on Monday” and obviously the answer was no, as he had way too much work (and responsibilities) at the current job.  He replied saying that he did want to work for them, but that with commitments plus the new baby due 22 March, it was likely to be April before he could realistically start.  Everything went deathly quiet.

And then, in late January, they contacted him again, asking him to come in for a meeting, and offered him a start date of 14 April.  This gives him time (hopefully) to wrap everything up at his current place, and finish up around the time that Joey is due.  And even if she is late, he should still be able to have around 2 weeks at home with us.  

It is going to be quite an adjustment for Dave, of course.  Having been an aircraft engineer for 25 years, it is not a small thing to walk away from.  He is now going to be instructing engineering, and that is going to be a challenge for him, as standing in front of a group of people isn’t exactly something with which he is comfortable!  

So it is going to be a big year for all of us... new year, new baby, new job, no flying for me, etc etc.  hopefully we will come through it :)

And for now... I must clean the house a bit in preparation for our visitors tonight! 

The preparations have started!  2 months to go... and I’m beginning to think about what I need to do before Joey arrives.  Slowly, the clothes, blankets, etc. are being washed, and I’ve just started doing meal prep.  We bought a secondhand chest freezer a few weeks ago and the plan is to fill it before the birth so the workload is reduced afterwards.  But since we bought it, life has stayed busy so I have only just started cooking!  It’s just a little bit inconvenient now as staying on my feet for any length of time makes my pelvis ache.

I had another check up on Monday and everything was perfect with Bub, measuring exactly 31weeks at 31 weeks which I assume puts her in the 50th percentile.  Not 100% sure how that works though.  She is super active and loves bouncing off the walls of my uterus - it is now very easy (and frequent!) to feel the hard knobbles of her feet and knees moving in and out.  She is still moving around at this stage as her head isn’t yet locked in my pelvis, but she is lying head down just rolling her body back and forth (ow).

We had our baby shower on Saturday, which a couple of friends organised, which was really lovely.  

I tried not to think about how far away from family we are, but it really would have been nice to spend the day with them as well.  I did post a multitude of photos on FB that people can look at.  This just happens to be the only one I have on my phone, as Dave took the others!

Shortly, we are going swimming, which is really the only activity I can do lots of - walking etc really hurts my pelvis and when I am swimming I feel weightless which makes a change.

And that’s about it for now... oh yes!  Dave got a new job starting mid April, which is very exciting news.  His current company is still struggling and we are very excited about the move - although it is going to be quite the career change and adjustment for him.  At least he has almost 3 months to prepare for it.

adios! 

24 weeks

For me, this is huge: the first viability marker.  If our daughter were born now, she would have a chance - not a great one, but at least a chance.  It is a massive milestone for me, as every twinge, every pain up til now has been accompanied with wild thoughts of “if she’s born now she wouldn’t make it.”  I don’t have any reason to think she would be born early - but my brain tends to go into anxiety/panic mode very easily!

A lot has happened in 24 weeks.  

For one, we’ve spent a lot of money!  We are gradually getting everything together that we need - still a few big ticket items missing but we are getting there.  The nursery now has a cot and a rocking chair in it (both purchased second hand) and a friend of mine is giving us all of her baby girl clothes as her youngest is growing out of them.  So a note: we don’t need any more clothes! 😂. (I had an amusing chat with a friend last week who has just had her second baby.  She announced in no uncertain terms that having a baby was “free until daycare” which I thought particularly funny as they had just spent $2500 on a stroller!)

We have also been to numerous scans and doctor appointments - just a normal part of having a baby.  Everything looks just perfect with her, the only thing that came up on the last scan was that I have a low lying placenta, so in early February we have a fourth scan to check that the placenta has moved up - which is pretty normal.  I am signed off to stop flying at 27 weeks, which puts my last day on the 21st December.  I could have worked a week or two more, but it will be nice to have a Christmas at home with Dave before our daughter arrives, and also, the company I work for doesn’t have a maternity uniform so right now I am wearing a home-amended attempt and I’m not sure for how many more weeks it will fit!  The doctors and midwives seem very happy with how everything is progressing and despite the placental position, I am categorised as low risk.

It is going to be really strange not to be flying.  I realised a few days ago that I won’t fly a 717 at all in 2020 and I definitely have mixed feelings about that.  I could of course go back to work early, but I also feel strongly that it is important for me to be there for the baby, and I really want to breastfeed too, which isn’t very compatible with my work lifestyle.  Work has told me that they don’t need me in the office at all so from Christmas I’m going to be twiddling my thumbs at home (in the air con).  I am trying to think up some projects to keep me busy (not too active) in those 3 months leading up to the baby’s arrival, otherwise I am going to go stark staring mad!!  I get paid by work up to 34 weeks no questions asked, after which I have to get certificates from the doctor to say I COULD work if work should want me to do so.  Then at some point I go on maternity leave.  

At the moment, my parents are planning on visiting in May, which I am very excited about.  The distance from family is one thing that is particularly difficult so it will be lovely having them over for a few weeks.

Well, being as I am now 24 weeks plus 3 days I really should post this!  I may get around to writing more Some Other Time.