THINGS TO DO WITH YOUR KID’S SHITTY ART VOL. 1

I have missed writing this blog. I write in my head almost constantly, but rarely have time putting pen to paper, or hand to keys…. between my jobs on the side and my parental vocation- time is thin!!

One thing I often try to do, is upcycle the shitty art my kids do, and give it away. We all know the best thing you can do with your kid’s art is pass that crap as far out of your life as possible…. but if you’re anything like me, I just get so attached to it the moment it’s hovering over the recycling bin!!

Two things are fact:

  1. There is going to be at least 400kgs of shitty art you’ll have to move on during Kindy alone…
  2. Grandparents love that shit.

So, here I present Volume 1 of “Things To Do With Your Kid’s Shitty Art.

* * * *W I N E  C O A S T E R S * * * *
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There are two rules of anything crafty with kids.

  1. Set it up whilst they’re away / asleep / outside
  2. Pack it away whilst they’re away / asleep / outside (unless there’s benefit in being part of the clean up, or they’re at an age where they really should start helping you clean up after activities)

This is easy, and cheap. Tick, tick.

You will need:
Tiles from Bunnings. They’re 49c ea
Some shithouse art
Mod Podge or PVA Glue
Scissors
Paint Brush
Adhesive felt or cork discs

The art was made with watercolours from Kmart on regular printer paper.

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Find a nice section in some Shit-House Kid-Art, and trace around a tile… then cut it out.

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Paint a tile with Mod Podge:

Stick the Shart to the tile, and then paint all over the top of it. Mod Podge is a sealer, and dries clear and hard. You’ll need to do about three coats.

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When it is dry, get metallic paint or glitter and get the kid to “enhance” their work.
FACT: Glitter and Metallic Paint make shitty art 30% less shit.

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When it is dry, write on the back, stick on felt or cork feet et voila! COASTERS!!

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As far as things your kids make, this ain’t too bad.

Before handing this shit on to a relative, road test it for quality.
I recommend the 2010 O’Leary Walker Shiraz.

 

CAN SOMEONE COME IN NOW?!?!

Some days are diamonds- some days are coal.

Some days are Brady Bunch… And some are Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

It has taken six months, but I’m finally into a happy groove with planning my days and weeks with my kids. We have something nice planned for most mornings each week, Playgroup, friends, playgrounds, classes, music, dancing, swimming and a plethora of at home activities which involve glue, sand, trains and the occasional licking of the occasional cake-batter-spoon (the kids, not me… Of course…*)

But there are moments I desperately want to share and those where I want to forget- and quickly. The other day my Mum messaged to say she would pop around to see me and the kids shortly. Excellent! Another pair of hands and company!! With her visit impending, I sat down giving Bub a cuddle and within seconds I had Torsten under my spare arm, curled up and stroking Marius’ foot with a little gentle chubby toddler pointer finger. He started saying things like “I lub you Martuwus”… “Baby skin is soft”, “I feel happy Mama”…. OH MY GOD CAN SOMEONE COME IN NOW AND SEE THIS?!?! 

3.7 seconds later. Full. Scale. Meltdown.

Torsten is throwing himself around which results in his head meeting the floorboards (reason for tantrum unknown- but using my sense of smell, I believe it to be about poo) and then there are tears and screaming which set Marius off and the whole perfect scene from a minute ago is now nothing more than an oasis. Mum arrives to me saying things like “Torsten the floor is hard sweetheart- don’t bash your face on it” and “Everyone poos darling- Mama poos, Papa poos, even Fireman Sam poos”…

Another scene: Torsten sharing a book with Marius. Torsten carefully wrapping himself around His baby brother, laying on the rug. 

  
Torsten starts turning the pages of “Noisy Trucks” repeating the prompts we do when we read together “what colour is it Martawas?” “Yellow?? Good boy!!” “Dis is a bulldozer… Goes brmmmmmm… Clever boy Martawus!!” 

CAN SOMEONE COME IN AND BARE WITNESS TO MY LIFE WHICH IS PRACTICALLY A SCENE FROM LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE!!  

Next second- Marius reaches for a page and puts the smallest tear ever in the book. The book according to Torsten, is now ruined forever. His life, is now ruined forever. 

I have failed as a mother and he will refer back to this moment as the second where it all started to go wrong when he turns to hypnotherapy in his 50s.

Final scene: The bath.

“Never smile at a crocodile” chomp chomp!! “Down in the meadow in an itty bitty pool…”

***giggles**** “I lub you Mama!!”

Who is the best Mum? Do Re friggin Me!!

Peels of laughter coming from the bathroom as we play, splash and sing a la Von Trapp Family frivolity. I’m silently giving myself high fives as my children play together in the bath and I snap iPhone moments to send to Papa who is still at work… Torsten demanded to wear a Christmas hat in the bath- yes of course my darling- how quirky of me!! 

Eat your heart out Kate Middleton- I can take an idyllic family photo too!!

  

CAN SOMEONE COME AND SEE THE MAJESTY OF THIS MOMENT?! 

Literally the next second- Torsten throws a bath triceratops at Marius’ head and because he is his father’s son- he hits his mark- aim like James Bond.

Baby is so pissed off he has hurled himself out of his bath seat into the water and Torsten is all all “what?”.

F M L 

But…

Then there are moments which are just for us.

The bedtime story with Torsten on my lap wrapped in “Mr Softly Blanket” the essential bedtime companion.

The delight and wonder in a new book, or the smiles of familiarity in a story we have read 100 times.

Don’t come in. Nobody spoil this moment.

The night time quiet feed with Marius as he snuggles his head under my chin and plays with the tail of my plait and drifts off to sleep. The whispers in the dark room of “I love you little one” the silent prayer he sleeps through the night. Nobody come in. I’ve got this.

Unlike any other job- nobody sees your triumphs. Nobody records your KPIs. There is no performance review. There is no promotion and there isn’t a clock. Sometimes it would be so nice to have someone from the outside looking in to say “I saw you with your kids today- you did a great job” or “that tantrum you diffused… Epic work!!” But we don’t do it for the daily praise. We do it for the long race. The outcome of happy, balanced and useful adults who make the world a better place. Someone who will one day turn around and thank you for it all.

But for now- I’ll settle for all the incidental moments that make me laugh to myself, swear to myself and make me want to freeze time, just a little. 

Don’t come in.
I got this.

*ok so sometimes it’s me and then I tell Tors that there wasn’t any left. 

The simplest of tasks made difficult…

So, it really has been quite a long time since my last post because: second baby.

And with “second baby” comes several new layers of complexity, like WTF do you do with the first kid whilst feeding or trying to get second kid to bed?!?! From henceforth and because I’m a Radiohead enthusiast, they will be referred to as Kid A and Kid B. 

There’s nothing quite like having Kid B poised dreamily above the mattress “sleepy but not asleep” for perfectly timed nap, when from outside the nursery door, your Chucky Doll of a toddler walks by saying things like “oooh!! Sharp!!” And my favourite “raaaaahhhh!! Torsten is screaming!!!” Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

So I wanted to know, am I alone in experiencing the following life scenario?

10.30am Ooh, need to do a wee….

<note: this is where I should have done said wee>

10.35am Kid A is playing trains and is happy- sweet, I’ll just hang this washing out and then I’ll hopefully sneak into the loo without Kid A wanting to come along. 

10.45am from outside at the washing line I can hear noises that trigger concern. Kid A is “helping” by unloading the dishwasher contents onto the kitchen floor. Dishwasher contents is wine glasses (because wine) and porcelain plates….”Tankooo… You’re welcome!!” I’ll just sort this out and then I’ll go to the loo….

11.05am Kid A: Torsten pooey. Mummy check? Correct kid, some of the sulphurous rivers of hell have found their way into your pants. I’ll just change this nappy and then I’ll go to the loo…

11.20am Baby wakes up from nap. I’ll just change his nappy too and then I’ll go to the loo myself….

11.30am Baby needs a feed… I’ll just do that and then I’ll pop to the loo.

12pm Kid A: Torsten so hungry!! SOOOOOO HUNGRYYYY!! Kid begins listing all edible things you have in your home: Cracker?? Apples?? Sultana?? Banana?? Yoghurt yoghurt yoghurtttttt!!! Vegemite????? Toast?? 

Far out. I’ll just feed my gremlin and then I’ll go to the toilet…

12.30pm Kid A sitting in highchair with the thousand yard stare… I’ll just put him to bed and then I’ll go to the loo.

12.35pm Kid A: Story?! Let’s list every book title we’ve ever read?! Good parent inside me says “never say no to a request for reading – must foster a love of books…  14 year old illiterate offspring will turn around and blame me for that September day back in 2016 when I said “no” to The Gruffalo… Meanwhile I have an 18kg toddler sitting on my lap which is now home to a 5 litre bladder and some serious new pains. I’m now remembering all the stories about female incontinence and bladder infections from holding wee… As soon as I get this kid to sleep, I’ll pop to the loo…

12.45pm Kid B is now bored of all things and is laying there crying. Right- I’ll just pick him up for a bit and… Ok yep- he needs a nappy change again… I’ll just do that and then I’ll pop to the loo!!

1pm Kid B rubbing eyes: sweet. I’ll just get him to bed and then I’ll pop to the loo…

1.30pm Phone ringing and doorbell go at the same time. Phone is Mum- I’ll call her back. Door is Coles grocery delivery. Bottles of soda water being delivered… DontthinkofwaterDontthinkofwaterDontthinkofwaterDontthinkofwater

Delivery man goes- and front door slams. Kids wake up and both start crying…. Take a ticket kids… Mama’s going be a while!!

Things only parents of BIG BABIES will understand….

Below are some of the things I’ve laughed about with other Mums of BIG BABIES!! I’m not talking fat babies, I mean long, tall, broad, heavy babies!! the type that give you tennis elbow from a short carry in the garden or the type which require Olympic Lifting standard squat preparation to make sure you don’t blow out your back…

Nappy sizes do not apply to your child. No brand in Australia- and I’ve tried them all…

When your 7 month old is in toddler size 10-15kgs, but he’s only just mastered sitting up- there ain’t no “toddle” here!! And they don’t fit properly, ever. To fit the waist they are baggy around the legs. To fit the legs, they don’t fit high enough on the waist to stop a shituation up the back… They really should have a “big baby” sized nappy.

I’m here if you need me, Huggies. #onlyforanexecutiveposition #willbebringingmykidtoworkwithme

Car Seats are a lower back’s worst nightmare.
Normally by the time a kid weighs 12-13kgs they can help getting into and out of a car seat. No, Mums and Dads with big babies lift and twist a dead weight in and out of car seats and just pray the baby doesn’t think now is a good time to play “stiff as a board”… Torsten was in a forward facing car seat at 7 months because I could no longer lift the capsule out of the car. There are plenty of car seats on the market, but very few which accommodate a young baby who is long or heavy.

Finding a stroller with a decent weight capacity isn’t straightforward either!

Getting hit!
It might be just a love pat, or a poorly aimed arm flail- but I get hit in the head quite regularly by one of those heavy arms and it hurts! I thought I was being a wuss until his Dad, a broad shouldered,  water polo playing, solid-as-a-rock tough guy began to complain!

Is your kid in the right class…?
Getting side-eye from a Mum at swimming class because your baby is twice the size of her baby and therefore you must be in the wrong age group… “Um, excuse me- this is the 6-12 month class…” Yes, thank you squirrel-face-lady, my 9 month old will complete this class, and may or may not eat your child afterwards.

The “you should really breastfeed for 12 months” brigade.
My 10 month old child just ate a steak.
An actual steak.
With beans and sprouts- and then half a cup of yoghurt and two pieces of watermelon. Then he had four grapes and a bottle. You breastfeed your kid, I’ll pot roast for mine.

If you don’t feed them quick enough- this happens… 

 The volume of food you have to pack for a trip out, requires a small fridge.
A trip to the shops for us requires a peanut butter sandwich, a mandarin and some kind of cracker- and that’s IF the trip is after lunch. If the trip is likely to cross into lunchtime, I’ll also need to pack a yoghurt, a tub of vegetable matter, chicken strips or some kind of meat, and a piece of wholemeal toast. I shudder to think about his school lunches… Here kid, have a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter… (I’m looking at you Rhys and Lee…)

The constant “is he crawling yet?!” questions. ****soooofreakinganoyyyyying****
Chances are, your Bub will crawl a little bit later because he’s like a human Winnebago. He weighs more than an average one year old with the muscular skeletal development of a seven month old- because he’s seven month old.
They crawl eventually.

You’re jealous of Mums, walking around with their babies on their hip:
I saw Mum at the IGA yesterday with her child- around 10/11 months, perched on her hip. She was able to continue with her shopping holding a basket and her child. I was actually mesmerised.

I’d make it as far as the sliding doors and then *change sides* sumo squat to pick up basket *change sides* walk down a few aisles trying to remember what I came here for *change sides*, look at the floor and wonder A) how clean is it? And B) would it be frowned upon to put my child on the floor for a bit so I can stretch and rest…

Baby clothes for the appropriate age group don’t fit…

“Hey Fi, I’ve bought Torsten an outfit!” Many a lovely friend has bought us a lovely item of clothing, only to realise when handing it over, that it wont even go over his head.

And the clothes that do fit, don’t have the nappy access snaps in the crotch!! And all the little baby cute stuff is in sizes 0-000. I feel like I’ve been robbed of having a little baby- he turned into a toddler over night. I often look at the tags in kids clothes where it says “12-18 months to 86cm and 12kgs” and think “12-18 months *Scoff, Scoff* not in this house”

Not only that- some items only last a week before they’re out of it! Onesies are best with no feet in them, so you get a few weeks more wear before you baby has grown out!!

And finally… “How tall is his Dad?!?”
Tall, and I’m no Pygmy.

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We’ll be over here in the kitchen, eating steak.

Have Child…. Now What Do I Do With It?

This post was brought to you by the letter W, T and F… You may have come through the foggy first few months of parenthood with a baby who largely eats, sleeps and poos and doesn’t ask too much more from you- but suddenly they need entertainment and stimulation and their first educational experiences!! WTF do you do now?? You’re not a teacher- you’ve never had to play with kids before… how are you supposed to know what to do!? So I call this WTF Parenting… WTF can I do to give my Bub a good, fun, developmentally valid day?

You don’t have to be a teacher or an early childhood learning specialist to have some seriously rewarding and fun days with your babies and I hope this post might help someone who’s seeking inspiration for fun and stimulating things to do at home for baby. In fact “staying at home” all day with the baby is something many Mums freak out about, and so there are many unnecessary trips to shopping centres and cafes where baby is usually left strapped in, sitting in a pram and not able to engage with the textures, sounds, tastes, colours and movements around them. We are the Pram Cram generation of Mums, stuff the kid in the designer pram, make them come with you on endless pointless errands and roll your eyes over your take-away skinny cappuccino when the child wants to get out of the pram…

This is just a list of things I do to entertain and play with my boy. I do have education qualifications, but I am essentially just a big kid- and I am sure other Mums could also contribute heaps of lovely ideas to this list, and I’d really like to hear WTF you do with your kids!! There are hundred more and many an amazing resource on the Internet- but I hope you might find someone here worth trying at home.

1. Sing.
If you have a great voice or a terrible voice- your baby doesn’t know or care. Singing combined with movements to the beat will be endlessly amusing for babies of any age- especially songs with animal sounds and movement such as Old MacDonald, Never Smile At A Crocodile, Incy Wincy Spider, Twinkle Twinkle etc. I found great comfort in singing “Eh Shut Uppa Your Face” largely because Torsten giggled with every “Eh!”. Each to their own.

2. Read.
Interactive and Tactile books are the best for little fingers who love to explore. I don’t have the kind of kid who’ll sit quietly in my lap as I turn pages and read in my best Play School voice, but he likes to touch the pages and copy sounds- and it’s the exposure to the book, not the science of learning to read that is important at this stage. Just the other day, my husband put Tors on the floor with a book and within minutes he had picked it up and was holding it open the right way up saying “wha blah blah wha”. Monkey see, monkey do.

3. The grass is a wonderland
Kids seem to blossom in the outdoors- a crying grumpy restless baby when taken outside will often calm in seconds. The shadow of the trees, movement of leaves in the wind, birds chirping, cars passing, new smells and textures all around. Lay some toys on a blanket and let Bub roll around experiencing the grass and the change of environment. Studies have shown that the sun is the best optometrist for little eyes- that 15 minutes of sunlight a day can treat near sightedness AND some studies of ADHD children found that they were able to concentrate, participate and had greater recall of class content when classes were held outdoors. Thank you, Google Scholar.
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4. If it’s not a toy- it’s a toy.
Cardboard rolls, whisks, colanders and all Tupperware, anything that crinkles, or has a funny texture, sticks, wooden spoons, empty drink bottle with a few raw spiral pasta pieces inside,  an empty drink bottle with water and glitter or some five cent pieces inside (parental guidance during use of these things… Duh) baby toothbrush, hairbrushes, empty tissue box with a toy stuffed inside, egg cartons, fabric scraps or scarves- especially floaty ones, tennis balls (fuzzy, it rolls AND its a ball!! Shut the front door!!) and if you want to get crazy, put a tennis ball INSIDE a container. Mind. Blown.
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5. Bath and water play
If your child loves bath time, then why limit the water fun to getting clean?! Especially in hot weather, measuring cups, rubber duckies, champagne corks (you may even have to drink the champagne first, a worthy sacrifice…) water balloons, endless fun!!
Sometimes, if Mr Grumpy comes out- I give him a bath and it calms him down- he has fun and often a really good sleep afterwards- like I’ve tricked him into thinking its nighttime!!

6. Talking, narration and conversation
Have you ever been getting about your business with your Bub and realise there’s an awkward silence?? It takes a while to get used to “stream of consciousness” chatter, but your baby loves your voice- they have heard it from inside from around 20 weeks gestation!! Narrate what you are doing and show your baby the objects you’re using as you go. Except for knives… Probably avoid knives.
And chemicals….
Put your baby in a highchair next to you when doing mundane tasks like cooking and laundry make a shitty task, fun.

7. Activity Basket
Go around your home looking for things which might ordinarily be out of bounds or not toys- a whisk, a sieve, a brush, a scarf, a magnet, some plastic containers etc- let Bub empty the basket and play with the contents. Show him how things are used, and  watch as he explores things which might never have been seen before. Parental guidance recommended!!
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8. Do nothing
This is my favourite- not because it’s “nothing” but because it’s everything. Sometimes he lays on my chest when he’s tired and I play with his hands and fingers, stroke his hair and face and hum a tune. Other times, I watch him play and try to intervene as little as possible- just watching him learning and exploring by himself.

9. The TV is not the devil. Get over it.
I’m the first to admit that children glued to screens, iPhones and iPads seems a huge waste of the sponge like mind of a child. I hate seeing kids out to dinner with Mum and Dad, on the iPad whilst their parents are talking- the art of conversation dying quietly in the background. That said- if I need 15 minutes to make a call, cook dinner, fold laundry, or just a break from being a full time Mumtertainer, then I have no problem with Play School, Little Einsteins, Peppa Pig- I have recorded the house across the road being demolished because Tors loves that!!

10. Go for a walk
What’s good for Mum is good for Bub. It’s amazing how much kids love the outdoors- so get the pram and go for a walk- point things out, like “the blue cat” and “the barking dog”, talk about the weather “it’s windy” or “it’s hot today”- have the chair facing away from you if your pram allows, so baby has a chance to be independent.

11. Fire blanket
eBay $0.99 and endless fun. Not too much explanation required here- it’s shiny, it’s crinkly, it floats and it’s different from every angle. Good for a rainy day, or “I’m at the end of my rope thinking of ways to entertain you”, fun…
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12. Empty drink bottle and other sensory play ideas.
The other day I put an ice block in a zip lock bag- it could have been a $100 toy and it could not have been as amazing to my little man. “The finger” came out and he was pushing the ice block around inside the bag and as it melted, it became more interesting. Good clean fun- and no mess for you!!

13. Finger food
When all else fails- explore textures, smells and new tastes with food. Even if it ends up on the floor, exploring food is always a good idea and self-feeding is great for Bub’s self confidence.

14. The flash light. You’re all singing Jessie J now… Aintcha?
Lay on the floor in a dim room and play with a flashlight!! You’ll have fun- baby’s mind will be officially blown and you may even make him/her sleepy! Win!!

15. Bubbles. Who doesn’t love bubbles!! Fuckinyeah!!  

I’d love for you to add your own suggestions… I’m running out of material hehehe!!!

Kids are gross.

I always thought that babies were beautiful, sweet smelling, little cuddle bundles. The behind the scenes reality is much more offensive. If I had a dollar for every time during the day I say “oh yuck!”, I’d surpass my previous salary.

Nose Goblins.
It amazes me how comfortable children are with snot.  Adults- as soon as we feel the slightest hint of runny nose- out come the tissues. Kids- two full nasal lava fountains and nothing. Not a care in the world except for “can I extend my tongue far enough to reach my nostril”.

Wiping the baby’s face is a screamable offense, in fact- face wiping is one of the most insurmountable infractions for a baby.  During a drive this week- my little cherub smeared his nose contents up his cheek and into his ear.
I have no words for this. None.

Nappies.
Nappy change times used to be very straight forward: nappy off, wipe mess, barrier cream, new nappy on. Bam!

Now it’s more like: nappy off, keep his feet out of his poo. Keep his hands off his balls which are covered in poo. Wipe shitty hands. Try to wipe bottom whilst child is trying to roll over into poo. Throw half a pack of baby wipes in general vicinity of baby’s bottom. Roll baby onto his back again. Roll baby onto his back AGAIN. Give baby a toy to play with. Give baby now empty packet of baby wipes to play with. Put clean nappy on. Force baby’s leg into leg part of onesie, realise it’s the wrong leg hole and remove leg. Swear. Force baby’s correct leg down the correct leg hole. Commence doing up the 173 press studs down the front of onesie. Contemplate if all babies are like this, or if it’s just this baby. Seriously though- boy babies!! It’s as if nappies are actually penis cages and when the nappy is off- the hands are on!! My child turns into Gollum “my precious!!”    It’s not just the baby’s junk either. Apparently my son wants to be a canine proctologist when he grows up… Poor puppy has taken to walking backwards to protect himself.

Feeding time.
Bibs are essentially useless. We need to invent some sort of baby feeding burka so that the only exposed part is the face. My baby does this adorable “Mum! Hug me now” arms up gesture and I think “oh how lovely, he loves me and needs me!! Mothering goals fulfilled”!! The reality is, he just wants to wipe his weetbix covered face all over my shoulder.  My personal favourite feeding time moment is when all is going well- the floor, high chair and face are largely clean and then Bub decides now is the time to practice blowing raspberries. Sweet. Potato. Every. Where. On the walls, the floor, my top, my hair, my face.  The other best moment is “squirrel face”. Squirrel Face is where baby stores food in his cheeks, convincing the feeder that the feedee is swallowing dinner. Then, at cheek capacity, a mushed up glob of food is expelled from the mouth, rolls down the bib and onto the floor- where dog happily eats it. G.R.O.S.S!!!! Dog takes this as payment for semi regular rectal examinations. Everyone’s a winner.

I look forward to adding “booger eating”, “worms”, “leaving sandwiches in my room for six months” and “Don’t flush the turd, he’s my friend- I even named him” to my parental repertoire of “Oh yuck!” in the coming years.

I wouldn’t change a single thing. The gross stuff is just part of it all- and I love every moment- the happy and the crappy!! I’d just love to see a nappy advert with a real baby having a real nappy change!! The reality might be gross, but the grossest things are always just a little bit hilarious!!

It wasn’t like they said it would be…

When I gave birth, I did not have the rush of love than everyone seems to talk about. I did not feel elated, besotted, loved up, gooey or emotionally blissed out in any way.They told me I would. I waited, but it didn’t come. Love was a slow burn, not a bolt of lightening like I’d expected- and it confused me, and worried me a little…

A small squirming, grubby, crying baby stranger was put on my chest and I felt bemusement, confusion, fear, disbelief and lethargy- but not “love”.


My husband went for a swim after our baby was born, to give me time to move into my room and ask the nurses some questions, and in the silence of a hospital room with a new baby in a plastic crib next to me- that silence was deafening.

What do I do now? Facebook!! I’ll send pictures and a cookie cutter comment which says “mum and Bub doing well, we are all besotted already”- because that’s what we do, right? But it was a lie. I was still numb. I felt strangely “un-different”, strangely unchanged.

People came to visit and in the short gaps between visitors I tried to breastfeed and swaddle- I changed dressings and checked the picture updates on Facebook. Over 150 likes for a photo of me and my baby… Amazeballs. Just a few hours before, this little guy was doing time on the inside and now here is was, irretrievably, irrevocably, irreplaceably here. Am I “in love” yet….?

After a stream of visitors, instructions, endless texts and calls- there was quiet. The end of his second day was approaching and in the dim hospital light, we began to fall in love. I tucked his little naked body inside my dressing gown against my chest and I looked in awe at the tiny little hairs covering his temples, the tiny bottom lip sucked in and the Pugsley Adams hairline. He had me and I had him.

There it was- the first glowing embers of something that would burn into love. I began to understand that this feeling would be bigger than anything- in time. As me-old-mate Phil says- “you can’t hurry love”.

The noise of the day drifted away and I finally felt something incredible for this little man- not necessarily love as I had ever felt it before, but an intense feeling of purpose and a need to protect. And pride. I was proud of myself for the way he’d come into this world, and for the way I had looked after him and myself during our pregnancy.


Now, every day since- I have fallen a little deeper and a little harder in love. Love that gets you out of bed at 1am, 3am and 5am. Love that has me laughing at poo. Love that has me trying harder at this job than any other…. Love that has me looking at my husband through newer and more appreciative eyes.

Just this very morning I had full on tears watching the Ed Sheeran video for “Photograph” because it’s all going so fast and I feel like I can’t stop it and revel in it as much as I want to. I can’t save the way his little head smells, I can’t keep the feeling of his hands around my pointer finger- but all I can do is be there for him as much as I possibly can whenever he needs me, until he doesn’t need me anymore.

No boys over 5 permitted…

Dear Swimming Pool Changeroom and Public Toilet,

If you care to glance down at your hand, between pointer and ring, there’s a special finger I reserve for signs such as this.

I won’t be told at what age my child – boy or girl- has to go to the toilet or change alone in a public changeroom or shopping centre restroom. At an appropriate age, I will use my brain and my parental judgement and I will ask my kid how he or she feels- a desultory sign will mean diddley squat.

I wouldn’t send a six or seven year old boy into a changeroom full of mature men, nor a six year old girl into the women’s room alone- they can come with me, small children are neuter-gender. Just try and stop me. As a guardian, I can’t go into the men’s toilets or changeroom, so my kid will come with me. I’m not suggesting I go into the cubical with the child, but rather to be there to ensure their safety. Their safety. That’s the issue. Kids are sexually assaulted. Kids are abducted from their own homes. Kids in change rooms are photographed and have those photos proliferated by sick strangers.

And what about the Mum with the 7 month old, the three year old AND a seven year old- does she ask her eldest to stay outside? Of course not- remove the stupid sign and let’s be human about this.

There comes an age when children are able to look after themselves in these scenarios, but that requires an individual assessment of the kid- some kids at six are still regularly bed wetting and have anxieties around the toilet in general. Ask any Year One teacher and they’ll walk you over to the pee stains on their classroom carpet!! The Nighttime Enuresis program at PMH has a waiting list.

How about you allow parents to use their own common sense about how they manage their kids, or better still, build a few more accessible toilets so prams, parents and children can all get changed and toileted after swimming together. Shopping centres have come a long way with Parent’s Rooms, but most have only one toilet in them.

I can totally understand as a woman, that it might be irksome to have a wide eyed boy staring at your jelly- but his Mum or Dad can teach him the correct changeroom ettiquette, and to be fair- I’ve met my fair share of adult weirdos in changerooms and toilets over the years. Let’s be completely honest, with maximum respect to all of the wonderful men in my life; women generally aren’t the ones attacking, preying on or sexualising small children…

I will never be able to forget Sophia Rodriguez-Urrutia-Shue, the eight year old girl who in our own home town of quiet Perth, just down the road in Canning Vale. She was sexually penetrated twice, had both arms and legs broken. She was murdered and left naked on the toilet floor in the time it took for that little girl to go to the toilet alone. She was gone for ten minutes and the attack is reported to have occurred in between 3-5 minutes. Her attacker was a then 23 year old man. This is enough to make me hyper vigilant for a lifetime.

Mothers, fathers, grandparents, guardians alike- you ignore that sign and any others like it that tell you to override your better judgement and put your child in a scenario you, or the child are not comfortable with. It’s your right as a parent and the right of the child to be safe.

WHAT DO YOU WANT!?!

Sometimes little things happen which force me to have a good look at myself. It’s not always very nice being under one’s own scrutiny, which is probably why we seldom do it.

For the last week and on a grand scale yesterday, Mr. Eight Months has developed and infuriating habit of yelling. Screaming at random… Rah! Raaaah!!….. RAH!! One minute he’s happily playing with a toy (or his willy, but that’s a different post…) and the next minute RAHHH! I was beginning to understand the invention of the 1950’s Britain baby cage… outside the window with you baby, yell all ya like…

I had been taking “Rah!” to mean “next activity Mum, I’m bored”, so I was moving him between activities all day long. Changing environments, changing toys, changing songs, outside, inside, other people’s houses and still “yell yell scream scream”… At Woolworths, I got stink eye from a 20 year old in gym gear as if to say “Why can’t you keep that damn baby quiet?”, that’s ok- I was giving it back “Sweetie, maybe you should actually be at the gym in that clothing and not buying Coke and a Snickers at Woolies”.

So yesterday, after hours of “RAH!” I yelled back. “WHAT DO YOU WANT!?!?” he was sat on the floor surrounded by fun things; tree pieces of Tupperware, and empty foil packet that crinkles, and some measuring cups- he wasn’t hungry, he was well rested, he had a clean bum… “WHAT?!”

And then it happened. He looked me in the eyes and he lifted his arms above his little head. His little bottom lip curled out…
He had never made a request by any other means than crying, and bam- there it was with his little arms out; “Mummy, pick me up”. Every time he’d been whining, Rah-ing, yelling- he’d been saying “pick me up, I want you to cuddle me”. Cue the Mum guilt tears. So we cuddled, we went outside into the sun and we cuddled. Half way through dinner when the “Rah!” started again, I put his bowl down and we cuddled. In the bath, he didn’t want to play- instead he pulled my arms into the bath and mushed his little wet face into my shoulder. It was that simple.

I had been employing adult logic to a baby’s frustration. He hates me, I’m doing something wrong, he’s angry when he was such a happy kid before! I’m boring him, he’s sick of my face… Nope. Kid wants a cuddle, simples.

There is no adult logic… it was in the Wonder Weeks, he is in a leap but I’d never seen such clear indication of emotional maturity and a new need to communicate with me. It makes me feel amazing; now my baby is starting on the road to chatting with me and others- I can’t wait to hear his thoughts and ideas, the “darndest things” that kids say… I know there’ll be the days where I just want him to be quiet and stop asking me “Why?”, but for now- this is exciting.

So to the twenty-something, Lulu wearing, Snickers eating, high ponytail and makeup wearing Coke bitch giving me the hairy eyeball (you have all seen this exact girl over and over, haven’t you?) – No! I can’t keep my baby quiet. He’s telling me he wants a cuddle!!

Things that didn’t bother me before, which bother me after having a kid.

1. People who park in Parents Bays without actually having kids.
I know, I know, we’ve seen this whinge before. It’s not like we’re disabled and deserve priority parking, but it’s an intense burning sense of right and wrong that makes this a real stinger. I hate to be a vinegar-tits banging on about parking, but the injustice I feel is not so much for me, but for Toyota Town Ace Tara with the Ten Toddlers who deserves that parking bay. She has earned it and your Convertible Audi in the bay with no Vegemite fingerprint smears on it is a pretty good suggestion, that you’re just a teeeeeny bit of a wanker.

2. Again on the car front: people who park really close to the side of your car with the infant car seat in it.

This is how dents happen. People park too close and then you have to squeeze a small human back into their seat or capsule whilst using one hand to stop your car door from hitting theirs!… If you’re going to park so close, leave me a can opener and a can of WD40 so I can get my kid in the car.

The devil inside me wants to just. Bash. The. Car. Door. A. Little… Nawww chipped paint. Soz.

Just park in the middle of your bay.

3. The Myer advert “Find Wonderful”. The emaciated waif telling me I can find wonderful in a Myer store would not have irritated me a year ago.

Please. “Wonderful” can not be purchased, and no offence but if it could, it wouldn’t come from Myer.

Whilst I’m off finding wonderful, I suggested you spend some time finding the mouse who’s stealing all your shit….

find wonderful 2

Wonderful would be a two hour back massage and an empty laundry basket. Wonderful would be not having to use a whole can of dry shampoo between washes.

“Wonderful” is marriage equality. “Wonderful” is long friendships. “Wonderful” is the way my baby is so pleased from head to toes to see me the morning, he squeals with delight and flaps his arms. There is no Wonderment in anything purchased from Myer. If we are going to get pernickety- it’s “find wonder”, not “wonderful”, your grammar gimmick offends me. Find your wonderful elsewhere. And eat a pie.

4. The parental-judgey-opinion-and-information-hyper-factory in your face everywhere. E. V. E. R. Y. W. H. E. R. E…

And articles which start “A new study has shown, mothers who don’t…”

C-Section. Natural birth. Drug free. Epidural. How you feed your baby. Breast. Expressed milk. Formula. Where your baby sleeps. How soon or how late you start solids. Bed times vs no bed times. Organic home made baby food or purchase purée packets. When to put your baby in a forward facing car seat. When you introduce egg and dairy. Baby led weaning. What schools you are looking at. Whether or not you are a day care family. When you have your next baby. If you want another baby. Controlled crying. Crying it out. TV. No TV. Jolly Jumper. No Jolly Jumper. Co sleeping. Baby wearing. Cot bumper. No cot bumper. Having a babysitter. Having a nanny. Cloth nappies. Disposable nappies. The list of contradictions, options and opinions is endless.

Nobody actually knows definitively what the best combination of the above is. The most essential thing UNDENIABLY is the parents mental health. Happy parents, happy babies. I’m guilty of thinking that because something has worked well for me, that it would work well for others. I have made suggestions based on my own narrow experiences as a Mum- but knowledge sharing is the best way we can help each other. That’s, knowledge sharing- not knowledge ramming. It’s so easy to get so confused.

Therefore in order to have a happy baby and enjoy being a parent- go confidently into whatever you choose from the above list. Do it all or do none of it. Nobody has ever had your baby before- you know best! Unfortunately, a three volume Baby Users Guide doesn’t plop out with the last push. Trust your instincts and raise your family how you want and let others do the same. There is no right and wrong- there’s your beliefs and your preferences. The proof will be in the incredible job you do raising your own family. That’s the only proof that matters.

Just – let’s all agree that vaccination is not negotiable and amber teething necklaces should be left in the garden with the fairies.

5. The term “Stay At Home Mum”. This one is just a laugh- the way my little head works!

Lately, I have had to fill in the blank space on forms under “your occupation” and for the first time ever, my pen has hovered above the page with uncertainty. It got me thinking about the new words which define me to the reader of this form, and more importantly defines me to myself.

Do I say what I was? What am I now? Who am I now? Who was I when I was what I was? Do I just write “on maternity leave”??

It’s not that being a Stay At Home Mum irks me- not in the least, it’s just the narrow field of influence and gravity that the words “Stay home” hold- it sounds to me like an instruction and but for grammar, it would be; “Stay at home, Mum!”

During the course of a week with my young one, we visit friends and relatives, attend swimming classes and Rhyme Time, play together, doctors visits, and all the incidental Mum and Dad stuff in between.

I teach violin whilst Bub eats a rusk in the high chair next to me. I go to the gym where bub watches on- totally in support of my efforts and he even lets me rub my sweaty face on him for a smooch afterwards.

So if you’re a Free Range Mum or Dad, then please like, share and comment There are no caged hens here!!