Parenting - the ultimate 'no returns' policy.

I just re-read my last post. Fuck I'm a cocky idiot aren't I? I take it all back. ALL OF IT!

My bub is now 3 months old, and the sleep deprivation well & truly won the other day. I was sick, crying and ready to put both children on the floor of the living room while I ate my way through a double pack of oreos & large chicken crisps. I wanted to return my child to place of purchase and exchange it for one that works. This one is broken and does not sleep the way it said it would on the box.

I'm breastfeeding this little cherub, something that I wish I'd be able to do with my 1st born, but was unable to. I always felt I was missing out on something by not breastfeeding him and I have realised that I was in fact missing out on something.

FUCKING SLEEP.

The benefit to bottle feeding is that when you've had enough and think, you know what, I'd actually like to take a shit by myself for once or maybe get a solid block of sleep, you can handball that screaming little pink thing to a friend/Grandma/neighbour/random stranger who looks trustworthy, give them instructions on how much the bottle should be, and fuck off for an hour or two, without having to worry that your child's screams of hunger will be mistaken for an army of banshees raining the 7th level of hell down upon the world.

The other benefit is you know how much they've had exactly. No juggling the jubblies around thinking 'yeah it feels lighter, but he still looks hungry, is he hungry? Does he just want to suck for comfort? It's only been an hour, surely he can't be hungry again? Do I have milk? Is he hungry? He must be hungry?'

It's cruel really, to not only be responsible for a small human's life, but to have to do it sleep deprived, whilst they are literally sucking the life out of you. Making decisions while having the mental capacity of your drunk Uncle on Xmas day is not cool. So not cool man.

So the other night, as I looked at my husband sleeping soundly, over the hair of my wonderful little womb nugget that had been up every hour since 10pm, I thought...... fuck this.

Fuck. This.

So I woke that snoring fucker up and told him that I'd had enough and I handed him a screaming baby and I marched into the kitchen and I made a bottle of formula. And you know what happened? My gorgeous blue eyed cherub, wouldn't..... take.... the.... fucking.... bottle.

Anyway, long story short it turns out you can't survive on extended periods of 45 minute blocks of sleep AND look after a toddler AND not have a diet consisting of pure caffeine AND be like, completely sane or something. So the next day, I did what I'm sure every mum does or wishes they could do - I called my mum. She came over, let me lie down for a bit and then my husband and I came up with a plan of attack to get our little baby sleeping longer periods that didn't involve me leaving him in a cot to scream his heart out whilst ripping mine out. On a side note - how stupid are babies? They need to be taught how to sleep. Fuck me, if someone told me I got to sleep for over half the day, shit myself and have someone else clean it up whilst drinking from a bottle, I'd be all over that like Oprah on a baked ham. 

But anyway, after almost a week of 'sleep training' he's up to 2 hours of sleep at a time now, but we've got him sleeping longer than 10 minute periods during the day too. The thing that sucks, is we did this all with the 1st one and I was so naive I thought we'd have this shit down pat. We do not. I keep thinking that I've got this mother hood thing down and they keep changing the rules. Kids are like the ultimate way to test control issues. I fail the test. Like, a lot. No seriously, A LOT.

But I'll be damned, if the little bugger looks up at me, with a big gummy grin, and I think to myself - I would do this every night for the rest of my life if it means he will grow up happy and healthy.

Ok, not every night. But like at least maybe 5 or 6 nights a week. 

Cheers,

(A very sleep deprived) Qld Nurse.

2 under 2 - I'm invincible now just so you know.

As of a couple of months ago I became a mother again to another gorgeous little boy making me a mum of 2 boys under 2. Now, this time, things went a little more smoothly and he was born at almost term. We both weren't close to death, we didn't spend weeks in hospital, and he has a lot less health complications than our first son. I'd like to say he's an easier baby, but the truth is, he's just a baby born almost when he was supposed to be and didn't weigh less than a litre of milk. He's just a normal (ish) baby.

I thought having one baby was hard. But my eldest goes to daycare a few days a week so I could work, and now I'm on leave I see no harm in continuing his routine. Which leaves me with just a baby 3 days a week and wondering what the bloody hell I did with all my spare time when I only had one child, and even more so for when I was childless. Seriously. I get a shit tonne more done in 15 minutes now than I ever have!

If you're one of those mums that manages to get your baby into the same routine as your toddler, and can have them both clean at the same time, and in shorts that match the shirt that has absolutely no boogers or stains on it, please send me a link to your book because you're obviously a fucking genius and a way better person than I am. My house is in a constant state of organised chaos now. To the point that I've made a mental note to make sure I wash my hair on Sundays, because I forget when the last time was that I had long enough in the shower to wash it, and before you know it there's a clump of jam in it and I'm wondering if people notice the smell. #MILF right??

I've given up hope of ever having a fully clean house ever again and the best I can hope for is at least one room to be cleaned a day & the dishwasher on....on a good day. But I'm honestly OK with it. It's how I'm coping and my mental health is right on track, unlike last time. So I figure if my house is a mess, but my mind isn't, it's pretty much a fucking win. Happy mum, happy everyone!

I didn't join a mother's group with my first born, mostly because I was hating on anyone that didn't have it as tough as I did, but also because I didn't know that Queensland Health runs free information sessions for new mums, that, as a result, often end up in a mother's group. I have with my new bub, and I went along with an open mind, hoping the mother's in my group were not anything like the judgemental thundercunts that I met when I joined some online mother's groups. Luckily, they aren't! I see myself becoming good friends with a few of them. I mean, anyone that casually drops fuck or shit into a sentence within 2 hours of meeting me, is pretty much guaranteed a place in my heart. Unless they say they're a vegan Scientologist as well, then all bets are off.

Anyway, meeting these brand new mums, with these brand new tiny people to look after has reminded me of myself when I was them. I forgot how shit scared I was. How unsure I was. How I was so worried that at any moment, someone would see through my smile and jokes and realise I had no fucking idea what I was doing and was barely coping with this huge new responsibility. I saw so much of myself in these mums - the strain behind the tired eyes but smiling mouth; the off the cuff comment about sleep deprivation; the questions that are asked slightly in jest, but not really; the strained laugh at the shit explosion hiding the exasperation that it's the 4th time that morning and you've really had enough; the second guessing everything from whether you should have put socks on to whether the formula is gonna screw up their brain cells.

Now, I am by no means mother of the year, but the 2nd time round I'm not as hard on myself. I don't need to be mother of the year to love my kids and raise them to have good morals. My good enough, is good enough. I am now aware, that having a bad day, does not make me a bad mother. Wanting some time away from my kids doesn't mean I love them any less. There are a million different ways to raise a child, and none of them are necessarily the 'right' or 'wrong' way. I've screwed up so many times it wasn't funny. But my toddler is still alive. He's a happy, relatively healthy (bloody daycare viruses/toast & jam is a balanced meal right?), friendly, social, smart, frustrating kid and he still loves me even though I didn't get it 100% right 100% of the time. I'm not telling myself that I should be doing something or that my baby should be doing something, because the truth is that there IS no should. Kids are really awesome in the fact that they give you a fair amount of leeway in the amount that you can cock up before they start eating chicken hearts & sacrificing goats to the sun god. It's cool to admit that you don't know everything; it doesn't mean Child Services are gonna come knocking.

I wish I knew then what I know now. So I want to tell my new mumma friends this:

Chill.

It won't always be this hard - some days it will be harder, and some easier, but you will survive, and so will your kid. Every day your child will present a new challenge to you and you will have days where you think you can't do it anymore. However you feel, it's ok to feel that way. Whether you think it's silly or not, talk to someone about it and don't dismiss your feelings as stupid or wrong. It's completely fine, and highly suggested to ask for help when you need it. You help no one, especially your child, trying to be a martyr and do everything yourself. What's right for your kid may not be right for mine, or hers, or his. Just do what works for your family and don't apologise for it. Fuck the haters man.

I guess I'm writing this after having such a long time between drinks because seeing new mums like deer in the headlights reminds me that I'm doing ok. I just need reminding sometimes. So hopefully this helps you too. Or a friend of yours. 

Now go and have a glass of wine and put your feet up. You deserve it. You made a human!

Cheers,

Qld Nurse.