Scaling Back

I've just spent the entire morning cleaning out my closet like a madwoman. I couldn't sleep last night, I was too busy feeling energised by the fact that I am finally getting rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit, doesn't suit, I really don't need, etc etc etc. It's really cathartic. I have had many false starts with this clean out, but now I have a motive.

I am going to apply to do my Grad Cert in Journalism next year, which is terrifying and exciting at the same time. Goo will be 1 by that time and I know I'll be ready to tackle a new career by then - I credit him with giving me the motivation, even though it means I will spend less time with him. It's not a new dilemma. I'm sick of just existing, having to forgo social things because of money constraints. My partner wants to do a trade apprenticeship at the age of 32, because post Chef-dom there is little out there he is able to do 9 to 5 Monday to Friday. and I am happy for him, but gosh, I'd like to enjoy life a bit more.

Studying means moving from our little mountain home to the big city - either back to Sydney or Melbourne or maybe Hobart, and this is taking up a lot of discussions at home at the moment. City life is expensive. How are we going to do it? We haven't quite worked that out yet, but we have 6 months to sort it out.

I've decided to sell my good clothes on Ebay. I love the idea of them having another life, they have been sitting so sad and dormant in my closet for years, untouched and unloved. I think I read somewhere that people only use 20% of their entire wardrobe. I reckon I use less. So everything else that wasn't Ebay worthy, is either going to Vinnies or in the bin. We really need very little. Even less right now because I am majority of the time at home. It ties back to my guilty complex that I wrote about a few weeks ago.

So to Ebay. You can check out my stuff for sale here: http://www.ebay.com.au/sch/damandvan/m.html?_nkw=&_armrs=1&_from=&_ipg=&_trksid=p3686. I know I'm not going to miss any of these things (assuming they sell of course!). There's one dress I can't bear to part with just yet - even though it doesn't fit me anymore, I just can't seem to get rid of it. I love the colour and the glamour it represents, I love opening my closet and seeing it, and that's not really worth losing it to whatever money it makes me.

Short Tale Tuesday

I've decided to get involved with Short Tale Tuesday, as a way to practice my creative writing which is something that scares me completely and which I haven't attempted for so many years. Short Tale Tuesday was created by Penny at A Mum In The Wild (www.amuminthewild.com), so thanks to her for the kick in the bum that I needed! It's a real short one, but you know what they say, you've got to start somewhere...

Here goes:

Coffee. It’s ubiquitous in my life. I rely on it. It’s lubricant to the creative mind (unlike alcohol, which is lubricant to the devious mind).  It’s the beverage of great writers. I mean, whoever burned the midnight oil on a truly great piece of writing whilst sipping an Earl Grey? I don’t think so. Tea is too dignified. Coffee is for flawed people: the thinkers, the brooders. Freud needed a strong Viennese coffee to mull over his theories.  Coffee houses covered for Speakeasys. I doubt Al Capone sipped from tea cup with his pinky in the air. Well, maybe he did. Thugs have a soft side too you know.

I’m in a café, the type where all the furniture is replica, in some place that feels like no place. I’m waiting for the waitress to bring me another latte. I’m staring at my laptop, that blank white screen staring back at me, taunting me. But the words aren’t flowing today. I just need a word, one word, but I can’t find the right one to start with. The first word is always the hardest.

I’ve travelled the world looking for inspiration.  I’ve been through the Mojave desert; staring at the vast landscapes. I’ve visited the most bustling cities in the world; Tokyo, where the skyline stretches to the horizon. I’m blocked. I’ve been blocked for so long, and I am just looking for a word, the key to open the rusty lock to the left side of my brain and let the words flow again.

The waitress returns with my latte. Then it hits me. Coffee.

My Birth Experience

I would like to write about my experience giving birth to my son. I choose to do this because it is an important piece of the fabric of my life, and I would like to document it before the magic of mother nature erases it from my memory. Not to mention, it's a great writing exercise...

...

My baby was 5 days late. I had spent the last few days watching the clock, trying to resist the urge to shop online and sleeping in late. There was little else to do. I live about 30km from the nearest town, and wandering any further would be silly, given I could go into labour at any moment. So, I waited. I was told by my doctor that I would be induced the following Tuesday. It was the day before Good Friday. Nothing was going to happen for the next four days, public holidays and all. Thanks, Jesus.

Late Thursday night, I started feeling cramps. Yes, I thought, this is it! I counted the little contractions for a while and they came approximately every 10 minutes. I rang the hospital to let the midwife know where I was at. She advised me to relax at home, and call again when things had progressed. I went back to bed. Then I fell asleep. I woke up in the morning to the phone ringing. It was the midwife. The contractions had gone away. 'You're not in labour. Come in anyway, and we'll see where you're at.' 30 minutes in the car. One hour strapped to an ECG. You're not in labour. Go home.

I spent Friday with the irregular contractions happening. It's painful and uncomfortable, and I wanted to know what was happening. Back to the hospital. 'You're not in labour. You can stay the night if you wish, here have a Panadeine Forte and a sleeping pill.'

Saturday morning. 'You're still not in labour. Best thing is to go home, there's no point being here and you're more comfortable at home anyway.'

My best friend and her husband had come up on the weekend to keep me company while I waited. They were now on back rub patrol every time I had a contraction, just to help take the edge of the pain. This was happening every three, five to 10 minutes. By the evening, I was over it. I was frustrated, anxious, sore, and tired. I lay on the bed, desperate, sobbing. My partner scooped me up, placed me in the car on the backseat with my best friend comforting me. Back to the hospital.

'You're not in labour. You'll know when you're in labour. This is nothing. You can stay the night if you wish, here have a Pethidine shot.'

Sunday morning, Easter Sunday. My partner pulled the midwife aside, and let her know that I am someone who doesn't complain, and is in more pain that I let on. 'Please do something, she is exhausted.' The midwife finally rings my doctor. My doctor comes in, asks me if I would like her to rupture my membranes, but then we would be committed to delivering the baby. This meant, if nothing progressed, I would be staring down the barrel of a caesarian section.

Whatever! I don't care! Just get it out!!

It was about 10:30am. I felt the gush of amniotic fluid and felt relief that something was finally happening. The midwife suggested I stand up if I could to help things move along. As soon as I stood up, I felt an intense pressure and then, a shooting pain that I had never felt or anticipated. I howled. 'OK, how about we head into the labour ward, get your comfortable'. The prospect of the 20 metre walk was overwhelming. I got in, felt another contraction, howled and writhed again. I felt the need to push immediately, but I didn't know what was happening. The doctor said she'd see me later, it could take several hours. Really? Really? I don't know if I could bear it! I felt another contraction, screamed and threw myself around the bed. The doctor and midwife looked at each other, wondered if my pain threshold really was that low. They decided to have a look and see what's going on. Oh! There's a head! 'This baby is coming' said my doctor. She didn't have time to get changed from her civvies, just throw on an apron. It was time to push.

Push I did, I don't know how many times, but it felt like every 30 seconds another contraction came. The head kept coming down, then going back up. It felt like an eternity. The feeling of burning was so intense, I felt on the precipice of conscienceness. I am sure I saw myself out of my body a couple of times. The gas didn't do anything for the pain. Oh please, let it end.

11:14am. My baby was born. A boy. My partner was in tears, having helplessly stood next to me the whole time. Lucas Sydney was weighed, cleaned, and cuddled, meanwhile the doctor and I were trying to deliver my placenta. My uterus was so exhausted it took a while. Shortly after, I spent two hours feeding my newborn.

...

The first sign of trouble was when I fainted in the shower. I came two with about ten nurses standing around me. OK, maybe I'll shower later. I was covered with blood and meconium but I didn't really care. I just wanted to rest and having a shower seemed like an overwhelmingly energetic task.

A few hours after birth, I was sitting back in my room with my parents coo-ing over their grandson, my best friend and her husband in awe of what had just happened on the weekend, and my partner and I just trying to absorb everything that happened. I felt a lot of blood. I felt like I was swimming in it. I mentioned it to my partner and he went to fetch the midwife. She lifted the covers, then hit the green button. Again, 10 or so nurses surrounded me. The doctor returned. There must be a tear they didn't find after the birth. They have to find it.

I was offered the gas again, this time the portable unit. It was strong. I felt out of control and scared, I was experiencing a bad trip with a triple echo. No more gas. After about an hour and a half, the cervical tear was located, stitched up. A catheter was inserted as well as an IV in each arm. two litres of saline was pumped into me, followed by 2 units of blood. 2 more units were being couriered from Melbourne, 3 hours away.

If I thought childbirth was painful and difficult, it had nothing on the emergency that followed. I was in shock for a few days, although felt grateful for the extremely high quality professional staff looking after me and ensuring my recovery. I could have died.

It took a few weeks to feel like myself again. My body was so battered, bruised and exhausted I could barely walk, but here I am 10 weeks later writing this post. I realise that if it weren't for the generous people donating blood, I would not be here. Nor if I had lived in a country without the resources available to me here in Australia.

My son would've grown up without a mother, and he may never realise just how lucky he is. And that is just the way I prefer it.

Awesome Gift Ideas for Mamans

When a baby is on the way, it is usually the case that you cease to be a human being valued for your personality, wit, charm and good looks and turn into the walking incubator for another human being who will soon take all the attention away. (I'm not bitter, honest... even though my mother walks past me to say hello to my baby first).

You get zillions of baby clothes, toys, blankets, etc etc, but I really think the best gifts are the ones for the mother, who goes though hell and back to bring this little human into the world.  As an aside, I must admit I was shocked and horrified to find that giving birth is just not one day, but weeks of physical misery... but that's another post.

Here I have brainstormed with others and in my selfish mind about what some fabulous gifts would be to give to that amazing woman in your life.

• Pool together with others to purchase a year's worth of monthly massages. Endota Spa (www.endotaspa.com.au) is a personal favourite of mine. 
• Alternatively, book her a decadent weekend at the Peninsula Hot Springs (www.peninsulahotsprings.com.au) in Victoria or Golden Door (www.goldendoor.com.au) and arrange with the father to look after the baby for a day/weekend. Ensure you get this in writing before the baby is born and before he realises what he's signed and wants to reneg!
• Contact her hairdresser/beauty therapist and try to arrange them to visit her at home. Similarly you can try to arrange this over the course of a year, because the way she looks will probably be the last thing on her mind.
• Organise with other friends a schedule of babysitting, taking in turns. Give her dates ahead of time so she can make plans and look forward to doing something special during those times. And it costs nothing! 
• Come over and cook a meal for her and her family. This will be so, so appreciated by all.
• Arrange a cleaning service to come over and blitz the house, spit and polish every nook and cranny, so she can look at a sparkling house for a change.
• Give her something cultural. Subscribe her to The Age, Vogue, The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, something to keep her in touch with her grown up self and take a break from coo-ing and worrying about the last time her baby did a poop.
• DVDs - entire series, to help fill in time when she's at home waiting for the baby to come and bored out of her skull (I would have loved this, waiting an extra 8 days for Goo to decide to come into the world)
• A Labour Survival Kit - I recieved one of these at my baby shower, and at the time I didn't appreciate it at all, rather I was quite horrified by the maternity pads and Ural - I used every item in the kit and was so grateful for it all. For example, in my kit there was also essential oils, a shower gel/moisturiser kit, breast pads, prune juice (!), a pair of thongs. I would add to that chocolate or something high in energy!

That is all I can think of for now, but will add to it as I think of things, and I would love suggestions as well. 

When Grandma Doesn't Know Best

My mother just left after a couple of days visit. I must admit, I don't really need a lot of day to day help, I can take Goo along with me to the supermarket, and I get out a couple of times a week for coffee and he is generally good, so I don't feel the need to have a 'break' from him. Of course, I would love more massages...

I am happy to have my mum come and stay with us because she relishes the time with her grandson. As she lives 3 hours away, it's really the only opportunity she gets. She helps out around the house a little bit, brings lots of junk food (it's her way of showing love... yes, no skinny people in her family). However, every single time he cries she proclaims it is because he has a pain in his tummy, wind, etc. I find it amusing that she is telling me what is wrong with him when she doesn't know what his cries mean... I like to think that having spent 24 hours a day with him for the last 10 weeks somewhat qualifies me a little more.

That's the thing. Our parents decide that they are experts on parenting and babies because they have had them. In reality, they are experienced with their children only (and to be honest, I'm a little dubious about that statement given the way I've turned out!). The only one who really knows your baby is you. Not even Midwives, Doctors or the Maternal & Child Health Nurse really know. They can give you suggestions, offer advice, explain physiological or behavioural traits of newborns. The best people to listen to are the ones that tell you to listen to your instinct.

One of my friends is struggling with her mother taking her child away and telling her that she's doing something wrong. She was deeply insulted by the insinuation that she is an inadequate mother. She knows that her mum of course is not implying this, but when you grow up thinking your parents know it all, it totally challenges the traditional family dynamics you've built over the last 30 odd years.

At the end of the day, sometimes there's nothing anyone can do - you may know your baby well, but remember that it's a human being, imperfect, flawed, spontaneous, complex and completely inconsistent. That is what makes us all so wonderful.

Babies Force You To Socialise

I will admit it, I am the reclusive type. I can go days, even weeks without talking to anyone except my partner and my mum. And I'm quite happy to do that, and my good friends know that because they don't hear from me it's not because I don't love them or treasure them, just that I am deep in hermit mode (and they know they must impose themselves!!) I know what you're thinking, why would anyone want to be friends with me?! I am a loyal type though, I have just a handful of close friends and that's all I need and want.

When I had Goo, everyone suddenly came out of the woodwork and people I barely know were giving me presents for the baby. I know people are generous when it comes to babies, but when people say "can I pop around I have a present for the baby" I just want to cringe. I used to semi-consciously invite pop-arounders in without offers of coffee, tea, biscuits and look harried, to give off the message that they couldn't hang around. Those people that come over with no warning, I tend to lie and tell them I'm on my way out. Now, I sort of feel obligated to do all of this because they themselves have gone to so much effort.

Then there are the people that say "let me know when you're ready and I'll pop over" which is fabulous, except now that he's 10 weeks old I am starting to feel that the time has come to address this.

Having a baby has created so many new awkward social situations, where down the street a casual 'hello' sufficed, now I am fielding questions about his sleep patterns, his 'good'ness and how I'm feeling, genuinely. I don't know how to answer these. I am usually honest and say how he's such a great sleeper, I'm feeling great, as long as you get sleep at night you can face anything, blah blah blah... to which people either give 'advice' (see a previous post on unsolicited advice) or give a pregnant pause which I inevitably awkwardly fill with too much information. The conversation ends "good to see you!" followed by uncomfortable nods as you pass that person 3 more times in the supermarket.

I know nobody's perfect, but when you're someone who shuns attention and wants to be relatively incognito in a small town without any privacy, babies are definitely gonna force you to face your fears and discomfort.

That, or you can continue on your merry way and just be a total bitch. But you're gonna stare at those hand knitted booties and I bet you, you'll be haunted by the guilt for the person who made them.

Too Tired to Blog

I've had a challenging few days. My baby, Goo, has been extremely unsettled and the routine we'd sort of loosely established went out the window. Every time I put him to bed when he was sleepy, he only sleeps for 30 minutes then wakes up crying. I only figured out today that he wants to be held to sleep, after resorting to putting him in the Baby Bjorn. Do you know how frustrating it is to not have tried this days earlier and saved the pain? When you're tired, the mind works more slowly.

So Goo has been sleeping now for the last 3 hours. Which is great, but it has been difficult to do things. I had to unstack the dishwasher one dish at a time. Tedious. I had to wait until my soup cooled enough before I ate it so as to not burn him if I spilled anything on him accidentally. Sigh. I am also feeling completely drained that I have no inspiration to write whatsoever, which is the most frustrating of all - it's my one outlet connecting me to me.

My partner said to me last night "I need some love", and full credit to him for being communicative and letting me know. I honestly but harshly replied "I need some time to myself". But I know that I'm going to make the effort to give him some of my time, without talking about or thinking about the baby (which is really hard to do when you have someone that you are waiting on hand and foot 24/7!) I know it's imperative to take time for the relationship.

It got me thinking, my partner feels his needs are being ignored, but really, what sacrifices has he made since Goo was born? His life hasn't really changed that much, he has the delicious ability to walk away, go and see his friends, go to the pub, and live his regular life, albeit with a noisy addition to it. I don't think he can begin to understand how difficult it is to be with a baby all day long, to keep him entertained, cuddled, nourished and have to take them wherever you go, and leave social situations when the babies start crying, and indeed exclude yourself from many social situations, including dining out and going to a movie or a concert. That's not his fault.

So I've just poured down my thoughts in a non-descript fashion. I guess writing something is better than nothing in the scheme of honing my writing skills?

How To... Calm a Crying Baby

DISCLAIMER: I am not an expert or professional. I am just writing about what worked for me. It may not necessarily work for you, and probably won't because all babies are different.

I thought I would write about how to calm a crying baby because it was raised at my mother's group yesterday and I have been in the thick of it all morning. It helps that I know why Goo is crying - he had his vaccinations on Tuesday and has been grumpy for the last couple of days.

When you have a screaming baby in your midst, the stress hormones start coursing through you and the longer it goes on, the less likely you are able to rationally take the steps to calm your baby down.

Here are the things that I do to calm my baby down (some work, some don't at different times) and are in no particular order:

• Cuddles. I hold him with his head on my shoulder. This can take up to 30 minutes until he calms down, but he knows I've got a tight hold on him and won't let him go.
• Quiet time. If he is overstimulated (it's hard to judge this one but it usually I usually realise this once he is in hysterics). I will pop him in his cot with the mobile going and the lights low, and he can settle himself away from the din.
• Walking around. Babies like movement, so I have been known to do laps around the house. Popping him in the Baby Bjorn makes it a bit easier when your arms get tired.
• Get in the car. This is my trump card, it works nearly any time. Getting him into the car is a mission, but once I'm out of the driveway, I barely hear a peep.
• Someone else. Sometimes I get the feeling that Goo gets a bit sick of the sight, sound and smell of me, so sometimes I'll hand him to Papa and just the change can settle him a bit. Grandparents & Friends work equally well.
• Bath/Shower. It took a few weeks for my baby to really embrace the shower. He would only last a couple of minutes before he had had enough, and he prefers the shower to the bath. When he gets grumpy, the sensation of the water on his body gives him relief and joy.
• Infant's Friend. This is a great product which helps get the plumbing working. He did not poo yesterday, and was cranky as hell this morning, so I gave him some of this stuff. Within 15 minutes he was exploding on the change table! It's available from most chemists and is pretty harmless, you can use it from a very young age. I think I was using it before he was 2 weeks old.
• The dummy!! I am a big fan of the dummy, I try not to let him rely on it, and it doesn't work when he's absolutely hysterical, but once he's calmed down a lot it can help him fall asleep or something to focus on other than his misery.

Goo is nearly 9 weeks old now, and has hit his stride now, normally one of these tactics works and it doesn't take long for him to settle. But up until about 4-5 weeks old, he was miserable constantly, I believe he was frustrated because he couldn't focus his eyes and couldn't control his limb movements at all, and now that he has some control and is aware of his surroundings, he is much happier in himself. 

The thing you have to always remember is that you will get through it, and to take one step at a time, and not rest on your laurels thinking you've got some pattern down, because once it all turns to shit you will be cursing. Babies are volatile and trying to make sense of the world, so you can't expect them to be habit forming. 

Try everything!! Don't forget, if you're exhausted, put the baby somewhere safe like a cot or bassinet where they can't hurt themselves, close the door and walk away. To be a good parent, you have to put yourself first. 

House Proud Maman

Running into another mother yesterday, who asked me how I was coping being at home. Apparently today's mothers aren't happily housebound, and are itching to get back to work as soon as the pop one out.

Maybe I'm an anomaly, but I absolutely love being at home. Granted I'm only 2 months in, but I have become incredibly house proud, and for the first time in my life, I'm not lazy. I used to spend hours in front of the TV, barely cope with doing anything except working, and my house would get out of hand.

Now, I look for things to do, make efficient use of my time (3 blog posts in one hour! Ok that's debatable), and have become one of those 'do it now not later' people. There is a saying in German that goes "Morgen, morgen und nicht heute, sagen alle faulen leute" which basically means lazy people always say they'll do it tomorrow. I used to be one of those people. I never thought becoming a mother would have such a happy side effect. It certainly helps that I have a baby that sleeps all night, and naps during the day, giving me plenty of time to get things done, but it also leaves plenty of room for me to sit around and do nothing.

The same mother said to me that maybe keeping busy at home is the key. I agree. If I wasn't interested in making my home beautiful, I probably would get bored too.

Now I am becoming one of those types that is interested in Home magazines. Who am I?!

Me & My Body

My baby is 8 weeks old, and I am really starting to feel the need to get into shape. Let's face it, it's been a few years since I have been wanting to get into shape, but since I've had my baby things are quite a bit jigglier than they were which makes it all the more unattractive!

My partner says I'm perfect, which is lovely, but I really just want to lose weight, tone up and feel good in my jeans.

My ultimate weightloss would be 20kg. I'm going to shoot for 10kg at first so as not to completely overwhelm myself. I'm kind of psyching myself to do a vlog for this to help motivate me. I know I can't do it by myself, I struggle to motivate myself and I'm excellent at making excuses or justifying that Tim Tam ("oh look! Cup of tea! Must have a Tim Tam with that!").

Most sources recommend weightloss between 500g-1kg per week to not adversely affect breastmilk. I'm going to hedge my bets and go for 10kg in 15 weeks. Let's say: down 10kg by my birthday on the 26th September.

I wish I could take up a hip hop or funk class, but because I live out in the country the options are limited, so I'm planning to combine walks with home aerobics and of course, not eating the Tim Tams.

I appreciate your support!!

How about some Bobby Brown to get the heart rate up.

About Me

I want to start this post by being characteristically modest and humble. I do not pretend that my writing is a) well formed, b) interesting, or c) destined for greatness. I want to explain a little where I come from and why I am writing this blog, in the much maligned "Mommy Blog" style.

As a teen, my best friend Cass and I threw ourselves into writing - for ourselves and for each other. We both had incredibly creative minds, so this was one way of expressing it. In the mid 90s, when the internet was still young and quite basic, we had our own Geocities site and basically created our own world. We also individually created our own fan sites (hers was for The Living End, and my was kind of embarrassingly for a certain 90s football player who is now coaching). Our sites were, objectively, the best of their kind on the internet; I even was interviewed for the Melbourne Weekly by a journalist who was impressed with the website. I created this through self taught HTML from scratch. I was the frames master! (Remember Frames?!)

I published my own zine in Melbourne called Stripzine, which centered around the local punk scene in Melbourne in the late 90s and hand distributed them through the independent record stores in Melbourne.

In 2000 I moved to Sydney with my parents and began a really dark phase in my life. Suffering depression, writing was the most natural way to escape during this time (aside from blaring the Sex Pistols through the streets of Neutral Bay) and started writing a novel.

I put my hand up to take over and resurrect my school's student publication, and when there was little to no interest in it, basically wrote all of the articles and stood at the gates handing them out tirelessly.

I decided the natural course for me was to pursue journalism at university... and then I lost my way. I lost the passion, I lost interest in just about anything, and for some reason listened to my father who told me to study business "to get a job", because journalism was a hard industry to get into (I think I took that as meaning that he didn't think I was good enough). So back I moved to Melbourne, and set about forgetting my whole life prior to then, changed my hair, my clothes, my body, so that I was unrecognisable to everyone. I partied, I turned up for my exams...

I ended up with a Bachelor of Arts/Business with majors in German Language and Human Resource Management. I decided I was going to Munich to work for BMW... and then I started dating my partner, who is now the father of my son. I spent many years floating around, taking and leaving various jobs, none of which I enjoyed. I moved to regional Victoria and continued feeling miserable about what I was doing with my life, where I was and how I wasted any talent I could have honed.

It's been 10 years since I've so much as written down my thoughts (aside from a few half hearted blogs which inevitably got ignored), so I am aware how rusty my brain-to-keyboard skills are. For the first time in a decade, I am feeling inspired, contented and motivated, ironically tapping in to that angry teen I tried so desperately to forget.

'Mommy blogging' is a heinous term, but I find so much enjoyment and pleasure in writing my observations and thoughts, I couldn't give a damn if you don't like it! I'm doing it for myself, which really, is the key to good writing.

When Someone Else Comes First

I admit it, I come from a deeply self-serving, want-it-now generation. I don't want to wait until I have enough money to buy it, I will use my credit card. If I need help with anything, I call on my parents without hesitation. Though I will give myself enough credit that I am pretty independent and don't like to call on help (eg - with a baby bjorn on, I will try to carry 6 supermarket bags to the car rather than ask for assistance!) I would generalise enough to say that most of us act in ways that suit ourselves first.

When you have a baby, this attitude becomes pretty much impossible. Unless you have endless money and or your mother moves in with you, you quickly realise that you can't even pee when you feel like it because Junior is going to dictate the activities of the day (and night). I relish Goo's nap time, not to say I don't love hanging out with him, but it gives me the time to get some chores done, write down my thoughts, eat, and collect myself. All other times, Goo's needs are number one, and I am more than happy to take a back seat.

Then there are the occasions where putting yourself first is imperative (and always reminding yourself that you are a human being, an individual, and not just 'someone's mother'). When your relationship goes south, and you make the decision to walk because your partner is abusive, regardless of how you feel about your child's right and need to have a relationship with both his parents, you cannot spend years sticking around and putting up with this treatment because you think a child should have a family unit together under the one household. 

I am a firm believer that when you look after yourself, the rest looks after itself. It will work out for the best, because you put yourself in a stronger position. 

Not to say it's not friggin' hard. Life is supposed to be, or that's what we've been told, and our generation are starting to get the feel of that, in a way that our parents can't shield us from.