2010 + 11’ + 12’ was without doubt, the most flat broke Dave & I have actually ever been. And we’ve both been those stereotypical university students, living on zilch. But 2010, 11’, & 12’? Well, that was less than zilch. That was the real deal zilch.
No actually, that was zilch. With a kid. Which was every bit terrifying as it sounds.
We’re not flat broke any more. We’re not cashed up either. We’re just … comfortable. And y’know what? I’d go as far as saying that our newfound ‘comfortable’ is deservedly so.
When I think back to life when I was working full-time ten hour night shifts in nursing, five nights per week, finishing work, driving home, not sleeping, & then beginning my day raising infant through to toddler Max whilst night shiftin’ for two years? Well, it honestly feels like it was in another lifetime. Not this one. Don’t get me wrong, I will never forget. Fuck, I used to cry all the time. Sometimes daily. And it wasn’t because I was depressed, I wasn’t. But our flat broke status meant that life for me, & for us, felt like I was kinda like a prisoner of war in my actual own life.
Sometimes I would cry because Max was crying, other times I would cry because I’d been awake for anywhere between 48-72 hours straight, but mostly? I cried because in the two years that I worked night shifts, & then raised Max the next day on no sleep, not a single family member or friend offered to take Max so that I could sleep. Just … sleep.
1 // Marry the guy who, despite being the sickest I’ve seen him in the 13 or so years that I’ve known him, still insists on taking the kids to the park. I absolutely need to make this photo my screensaver, & look at it whenever Dave & I argue to remind myself that he is an incredibly good person.
2 // End of term 1 of 3 year old Kindergarten. Hang up the bag, & treasure that first, sweet Easter hat.
3 // End of term 1 of 3 year old Kindergarten day nap. He never day naps. Cheers kindy!
4 // Max & Frankie’s first matchy matchy. A spot of Mini Rodini for Max’s zoo themed 4th birthday. Yes, it’s in December. I’m crazy.
5 // School holidays mean watching Frozen for the ga-zillionth time, & some iPad action. Mother of the year here, folks!
6 // You beautiful kid, you.
7 // Oh hai! I’m Frankie. I got all the cheeks, & all the chins!
8 // C’mere brother & allow me to use you as my standing post, yet again.
9 // … those lashes!
10 // Shuddup-a-ya-face.
I’m joining in with Em from The Beetle Shack in her weekly stills collection.
I bloody love my camera. I have my camera mojo back. Loving myself sick.
There really, truly is so much going on behind the scenes lately that I really do try to sit down & blog about it all, but then sitting down to even blog only seems to be able to happen at ridiculous o’clock these days, & it goes without saying that me & ridiculous o’clock are not friends.
And we probably never will be.
It sucks though, because I love coming here to tell my stories of Motherhood, & working Motherhood, & nailing Motherhood, & then not nailing Motherhood. I have always been, & imagine I always will be a teller of stories, especially when it comes to stories of Motherhood. I guess what I am trying to say is that when I don’t come to this space, I end up missing it so very much. It’s like, for me, being able to come here to my own little space on the www allows me to enjoy Motherhood a whole lot more, just because I get to discuss Motherhood I guess?
So while I’m currently not able to discuss as much as I’d like to, thanks to the busy-ness that is life lately, I’mma resort to dot point discussion instead.
1 // Waiting for her evening bath.
2 // Always eating. Always covered in food.
3 // He hasn’t day napped since he was 18 months old. And so that’s how I knew he was sick.
4 // I know it’s basically a waste of time, because he destroys it within minutes, but … I’m a sucker for a made bed.
5 // Meet Marben, Podie, Keith, & Marben IV. It’s safe to say, we’re a flat bear family.
6 // You know when it’s such a rare occasion that your kitchen is this clean, that you have to take a photo? Yea. That.
7 // We watched a lot of movies this week, courtesy of our ‘house of sick’.
8 // Goodbye Daddy. Big squeezy hugs before Daddy rides to work every morning.
I’m joining in with Em from The Beetle Shack in her weekly stills collection.
I think I love my new camera.
Sometimes I think I am perfectly ok with progressing through my Mothering journey as a Motherless Mother. Other days, like yesterday, & the day before, & the day before that, … I’m not.
I got mastitis again. My temps reached 40.5 degrees. I was shaking, & then dripping with sweat, & then shaking again. And it got to the point where I decided that the only way I could pull off the whole Mothering-with-mastitis caper was to just get down on the floor on my hands & knees, & crawl around in order to get to & from everything that I needed.
And it’s not that I’m usually a woe-is-me kinda girl, it’s just that I couldn’t help but think to myself, “why the FLIP am I crawling around my house with my two children. And my mastitis?!”. Do you wanna know why I was doing that? … because I’m a Motherless Mother, that’s why. And that’s not me stepping into woe-is-me territory, it’s just me stating the facts. I can assure you, it’s these kind of extreme situations that are the only situations where I would just about give anythingto have a Mum. Like, one of those good kind of Mums. The ones that some of my best friends have, who just drop everything when sh*t hits the fan. Like, … mastitis sh*t. And all other forms of parenting life sh*t.
Man, I remember being discharged from hospital after birthing Max. Y’know, as in actually walking out of the hospital with my brand new real life baby?!
I can only imagine the midwives would have thought I looked completely & utterly shellshocked, with my shellshocked face all like … what?! You actually trust me to take this brand new human life out of your hospital, put it into a car seat, drive it home safely, & then go on to attempt pulling off caring for said human life until it’s eighteen years old (& beyond)?!
I remember wheeling Max out of the hospital in his little hospicrib, & I was just staring down at him thinking, oh my God, I made this little life & now they’re trusting me to wheel it right on out of their hospital?!
Suffice to say we did just that. And we’ve been doing a reasonably good job at raising that little life for the 3.3 years that have passed since that very first day way back when we strapped him into his car seat, & drove him home.
1 // My week at sleep school with Frankie was the longest I’ve ever left him since he’s been born. It killed me, but it had to be done.
2 // Baby gymnastics.
3 // Chubby thighed exploration.
4 // Giggles between siblings at dinner time.
5 // Since returning home from sleep school, I’ve been waking before the kids, & setting up art play.
6 // My Aunty came from the other side of Melbourne to look after Max while we were at sleep school, & she painted him this dragon. His name is Monty. And he is incredible. But not as incredible as my Aunty is for everything she did for Max while I was off teaching sister Frankie the art of sleep.
7 // I picked this cabinet up from a buy/swap/sell page for a steal! I have big plans for it too.
I’m joining in with Em from The Beetle Shack in her weekly stills collection, because, … I’ve found my camera mojo again!
… now if I could just nail manual mode.
I was warned about how truly horrible three was going to be. But the thing is, two was more ‘that’ stage for me, & you. Two was yes, beautiful, but also plagued with tantrums. These fierce tantrums. Three however has so far (& yes, we’re only three months in, so I’m calling it profoundly early) been completely & utterly beautiful actually. Actually, I can barely even remember the last tantrum. It’s like you just … calmed down, & got on with the business of growing up? And yep, I’ll probably have jinxed myself from daring to even type these words, but wow, three is calm.
Life really stops when you’re not sleeping. I mean, of course it doesn’t really. But for the last oh … I don’t even know how many months, I’ve kinda felt like I’m not, I don’t know … really living? Which is stupid, isn’t it?! Because it doesn’t get more really living, real livin’, real life kinda stuff than when right in the thick of raising little people, your own little people.
But I guess I’ve just felt as if I’m in a bit of a fog, with this all-day-every-day servitude to little people, my little people. And don’t get me wrong, of course I love serving them, but the relentlessness associated with serving little people all day every day really is just sometimes all consuming!
And I can’t help but sometimes feel somewhat disconnected.
Over the last seven months, Frankie has generally not slept well, at all. Actually, sometimes she’s not even slept at all. Mostly though, it’s been hourly to two hourly resettling & feeding overnight. And yep, people will say, “don’t.feed.her.back.to.sleep!”. But the thing is, those people aren’t in the thick of hourly to two hourly waking & resettling screamy, shouty babies. So yes, feeding her back to sleep probably doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to a well rested person. But we’re not well rested, we’re in survival mode. And feeding Frankie back to sleep is quick, fast, effective, wakes Max a whole lot less, makes the whole ordeal end that little bit sooner, … & so that’s what we’ve been doing. As a result, I’ve basically gone & put myself on a newbie newborn-like feeding schedule for the last 5-6’ish months, & …
I’m ducking exhausted, actually.