Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas, all! We had a wonderfully chilled day, which is remarkable, seeing we have three boys under the age of three, I’m renown for being (just a little) tense these days, and we were catering for 14 (excluding the three boys!) Managed to fit in 80 winks after champagne and orange juice, and a swim 10 minutes before the guests arrived. We got paid the biggest complement: “Your boys are so well behaved. You’re doing a great job bringing them up.”
Father Christmas was very generous… lots of crappy toys for the boys to keep them entertained in the short term (and no angst when they break), and some amazing things to keep them occupied in the long term (a 10 disk DVD set on animals, thanks Kath). I got some very expensive perfume, whoohooo. Take your socks off, please, Father Christmas. Tee hee.
Weather hasn’t been great… the wind’s been blowing gales, swinging from East to West at whim. Nasty. But we can usually find a sheltered spot… at the river where the boys play with their boggie [sic] boards and Nemo glasses. Ant just sleeps under the tent with Pops.

Ant's got a hair style

Or perhaps it's a non-style... He had the sides of his head shaved when in hospital (to get a drip in, which they never managed, thank heavens!) and the back of head has been rubbed smooth. So now he looks a bit like a monk - long on top and very long at the back. Mom and I were laughing at him, and he caught the joke (and didn't seem in the slighest bit offended).


And we've started potty-training the boys. Oh, boy. My life is very very shitty. Now I'm thinking I'll just take that pink pill WHEN I GET UP, and not wait until I'm almost on the edge...

Happy Birthday, Kit-Kat!

My “baby sister” is 28! I can hardly believe it. And so wise and grown-up. And absolute gorgeous. Happy Happy Birthday, Pretty Girl. We love you tons, Kath.

Quite perceptive

Tim: Matt's a tiny little... shepherd.

Did he overhear someone (not us!)? Or did he figure this one out for himself?

I'm not an angel, Mom

Mom: Goodnight, Mommy's little angel
Tim: I'm not an angel, Mom
Mom: Goodnight, Mommy's big boy
Tim: I'm not a big boy, Mom. I'm a MOO COW.

Life's Too Short

Today, I'm thinking, is just too short. The days are too short to do everything I want to... We have a saying at work, when deadlines loom, "a day has 24 hours, and then there's the night". If only. I want to spend time with Ant before he grows up more, I want to play with my big boys (separately), I want to go to the gym (personal trainer included, please), I want to go back to work and be good at it, I want to canoe at least 3 times a week, I want to cook nutritious meals (fresh from Jamie Oliver's kitchen)... It's all too much for the short 24 hours we have in a day.
In fact, Life's Too Short. When I drive Emma's bakkie, I want to be a farmer's wife. When I watch "Grand Designs", I want to be an architect. When I read the Saturday property papers, I want to buy a farm, or a least a property big enough so that you can't see your neighbours and they can't see you. When I see pictures of the wild coast, I want to opt out of the rat race and start a B&B or better still, a backpackers. When I watch the travel channel, I want to travel to South America, to Thailand and Indonesia, to Canada, to sail the east African coastline (avoiding pirates) and the Mediterranean...
Is this disatisfaction (with my life now)? Or is the challenge of new things? Am I living too much in the future to enjoy the present?
Life is just way too short.

And they take to the water

Being the rather Fat Bastard I am at the moment, it took great encouragement to get me onto the canooooo. We paddled up the Glen Eden river into Inkwenkwezi (Private Game Reserve) yesterday at lunchtime. My mom had our three boys quite efficiently under control (Grannies are possibly the world’s greatest invention), and although it was pouring with rain, we headed out. It was stunning. We saw three types of king fisher and caught a glimpse of our resident juvenile long-crested eagle. I find paddling a great opportunity to “talk” (sorry, Gareth), most often about my dreams of a better life (from travelling to getting a full-time maid). I’ve angst about whether this is borne out of dissatisfaction (I don’t think so), so have concluded it’s more about the need for progress. I realised, again, how fortunate we are to have such beautiful spots on our doorstep. Just got to get out more!

Anyone for tennis?

We’re down at the swings this morning with Matt & Tim, and I’m reclining on the grass… Gareth says: “It looks like you’ve got a tennis ball in your bra.” Well, it feels more like a ball of lead. That’s rather sensitive. I played with the boys with great gusto, first time in months. I feel like I’m on the mend – both physically and emotionally.
Bottlefeeding is going well. Ant’s taken to it with no trouble. Except the occasional “vomay” (Emma-speak for “vomit”). Just the usual “I’ve a burb under that bit of milk” kind. Nothing to worry about, except, pass me that cloth, please. He’s sleeping a lot (could it be post-traumatic-stress?) and is quite happy. The first bottle took him by surprise, and he looked up at me with a rather perplexed look, but that was probably just my feelings being transferred onto his face.
This is the road I’d rather not have travelled, but here we are. Now I need to learn to enjoy the scenery.

Enough's enough

Enough pain, enough tears, enough swearing, enough fighting, enough bleeding, enough expressing, enough discomfort, enough insomnia, enough blues, enough aloneness, enough frustration, enough anger, enough dreading...
Enough guilt, enough blame, enough failing, enough decisions...

More enjoyment, more family, more cuddles, more hugs, more time, more fun..

Yip. My breastfeeding experience is ending. It’s sad. Very sad. There’s something rather satisfying about being able to nourish a baby completely from your own body. There’s something special about watching a baby enjoying a drink and then being so full and drunk with your milk that he lolls his head and falls asleep with his mouth open. And it’s so frustrating because I don’t have a problem with enough milk. In fact, I have a slight problem with too much milk, like I can barely go 4 hours and I’m popping, needing to express or wake him to relieve me. But I’ve tried everything. But I think this is now outside my “sphere of influence”.
The feeding since Thursday has got worse again. I hoped that things would get progressively better. In fact I remember saying that the pain can only get better, it can’t get worse. But it did. And the bleeding on Thursday was the worse it’s ever been. So, enough’s enough.
We have all the “equipment”, including a lactation inhibitor (reading the insert made me cry). So we’re off on a parallel road, that’ll get us to the same place in the end.
And I’ve bought champagne. To celebrate this as a victory of 6 weeks, not a failure of 6 weeks.

Complete

Had a good session scrapbooking yesterday… 4 of us got together… 3 absolute beginners & me. I got this done:

Here’s to creativity… I find it healing & restorative

A Windy Day

The wind is absolutely howling today. Like lift-the-tiles-off-the-roof howling. So no getting out today! I nearly got blown off the deck taking that photo (towards Glen Eden, into the teeth of the west wind). I tried to catch one of Anthony’s cute smiles on the camera today, but it’s hard. It’s a two person job. One to convince him to smile with lots of giggles and “you’re a gorgeous boy” in high pitched tones, the other to take the photo. Oh, well. Good enough, me thinks.
Tomorrow we’re into town to get Anthony’s 6-week jabs, and for me to get a haircut. Can’t wait for that haircut. And I have a long list of things to buy, cos Ant’s settling into a good routine now, giving me about 3 hours of “me time”, which I’d like to fill up with scrapbooking and perhaps some card making.
Matt was pretty sick last night – bad cough and running a very high temperature. Mooti did nothing, but we managed to cool him down with stripping him to his nappy (he wanted that off too, not a good idea) and blowing on him (wouldn’t have the cool cloth near him). I ended up sleeping in his bed (books tell you not to do this, cos your body heat doesn’t help, but I lay far enough not to touch him, but close enough for him to know I was there). He says “Mom, please stay. I got friends.” (the obvious opposite to “I got no friends…” his latest phrase). Comforting him was good for both of us. Quality time.

A Good Day

It’s been a good day today, and this is why:

My angel has had a long sleep, allowing me to prepare some veg for older boys, do some scrapbooking (well, playing with paper, at least), some surfing (the internet kind… 2Peas, of course) and I’ve had a shower and 2 square (ish) meals. Amazing. Now I even blog. And I got out: I walked over to Natalie Kriel’s place, catching a glimpse of a beautiful sea (thanks to the west wind yesterday).
Update: I’m still breastfeeding… I have all the necessities to start weaning, but haven’t started. It’s like I have enough milk, and the pain can’t really get worse (we’re now recovering from thrush), so I’ll stick it out a bit longer. And I’m a ninny: I can hardly go 4.5 hours between feeds, how am I going to SKIP a feed to give him a bottle? I’m ready for relief now, and it’s only been 3 hrs since his last one. Ant’s stretching to 5 hours for one night feed, but other than that we’re on a 3-4 hr schedule.
The “other” boys have been testing us. Really testing us. I’m failing the test convincingly, but Gareth is still keeping Team Parent ahead. His patience and staying-power is unnerving. But we still manage some giggles: I often call the boys “my angels”, in an attempt to convince both myself and them, but Tim’s latest is “I’m NOT an angel, I’m a MOO COW” (They have their parts now for the nativity play, and you guessed it, Tim’s a cow, and PROUD of it. So, not more calling him an angel.) Somehow, “Mommy’s little moo cow” doesn’t have the same ring. But if it makes him happy…
And finally… tomorrow’s payday for me, and I haven’t been at work. This is good.

An exciting moment...

...in my day-to-day existence: I went to the shop at Glen Eden, in Emma’s diesel bakkie, to buy a phone card, and got half-price off a roll of nearing-Nov-expiry-date fruit pastels (cue: applause that I didn’t buy chocolate). And the short trip put Ant to sleep, which is a Good Thing, a very Good Thing. He hasn’t slept much today… and today’s a day I have a bit of energy. Oops, I think I jinxed it… he’s grizzling and starting to wake.
Ok, I now type with one hand (right) while I shoegel babe in other. Oh, & the font is set at 18 pt, cos I can’t find my glasses (sunnies make the screen dark & blurry).
You guessed it… I’m just not built right for this SAHM thing (Stay At Home Mom – an Americanism). I think it’s cos I’m not all that thrilled with my own company… Ant isn’t interacting enough to be called “company”, although I might have caught a hint of a smile which wasn’t wind-related. Don’t know where he learnt it from, with all my grimacing and tears while breastfeeding. Perhaps his brothers have been smiling at him while I wasn’t watching.
OK, put baby down, and he’s awake again, sucking his thumb. So I’ll keep this short… To answer some questions:
“Bean” came from “Kerri-bean” – a friend/acquaintance (Cathy Lloyd, remember her, Heids?) in std 6 coined the nickname by rebelliously writing it on a desk in red koki. Somehow it stuck. Got shortened to just “Bean” and at varsity to “KGB” (perhaps a sign that Gareth would get stuck in the middle of my life?)
Mythbusters is a programme on Discovery – a team of mad scientists (special-effects dudes) called Jamie & Adam go about scientifically testing common myths to check if they’re real. Some good ones have been whether toast falls butter side down (last night) and whether you save petrol by having your A/C on instead of your windows down. They’re a hoot, really. And when they can’t get things to blow up (like your cellphone in a petrol station), then they just put in some explosives and call the fire department.
OK, now Ant requires my attention. This is maternity leave, after all. I must be a mom, first & foremost. Later…

Cabin fever cure

I decided to beat cabin fever early today, by getting out for a walk to the deck. With Ant joey-sleeping in the kanga, I meandered down. I was rewarded with a sea of that beautiful translucent grey-green colour I love so much, diamonds of sunlight dancing on the waves and dolphins swimming in a lazy circle. I really must get out more.

Red Ant

Ant’s coming up for one month (tomorrow) and he’s doing well. In the last few days he’s become both more aware (a beady eye looking up at moi from a boob, turning towards my voice) and more vocal. I think he may have smiled, but I’m not sure… Awaiting further confirmation. Today he’s slept so much that he’s mildly boring to be with (did I say that?) You know, I’m a little nervous to really plan anything, so I kinda sit around waiting for him to wake up. I managed to make some cards, have an uninterrupted visit with Natalie Kriel and bake some banana bread (for boys’ baker day, which I erroneously thought was tomorrow… I’ll freeze it).
He put on a bit more this week than last (weigh & measured him yesterday) – a whole 170g. And grown a whole 3cm! I’m pretty pleased, considering the mastitis, the failing left boob, the anxiety etc. I am using his weight now to give validation to quitting (breastfeeding). If I’ve got this far with the Pain, I can continue.
Gareth’s away (again) until Sunday (prefects’ camp), and I realise (again) what a support he is. Not in just the physical things. I’m quite capable of managing the boys on my own, but it’s really much better doing it with him. And I particularly like his company. I like him. Even when he “humphs” in his sleep (not in a grumpy way, just in a sleep-deprived way) when I switch on the light to feed Anthony (again) in the middle of the night.
Had another slight bout of cabin fever, and find myself checking my email 14 times a day to see if there’s anyone out there (who knows I’m here). Thank heavens for some emails from Heidi, Melanie & Penny. Phew. I am on an island, but at least the communication lines aren’t down.
Here’s my little red Ant, curled up how best he likes to sleep. Allowing me a shower before a(nother) feed.

Breastfeeding's a bugger (beware: potentially TMI)

I’ve have mastitis. It’s too bloody awful. Apart from feeling so sick that I actually hoped I was going to be hospitalised, I was so upset/hurt/sad/frustrated that I couldn’t get Ant to feed off the infected boob, that I was almost going off the edge. The best thing about this bout of mastitis (had it twice in the seven weeks I fed the boys), was the timing. I was able to get to the “breastfeeding clinic” (old name for St Dom’s Babes) to get help with getting him to feed, and also get a script for antibiotics. I’m mostly better now (left boob still rock-hard), but Ant still isn’t feeding well off it and I’m getting a little worried about its milk supply.
I’m starting to understand the underlying basis for Mothers’ Guilt. It might be obvious to many of you, but it’s only starting to dawn on me now. For 9 months, we’re wholly responsible for our foetus’ development – no drinkin’, schmokin’, over-heatin’, over-eatin’, horse-ridin’ (if you’re the type) etc. Then, while we’re breastfeeding, all of the above (aside from, perhaps over-eatin’ and horse-ridin’), but add it to: it’s YOUR fault if the baby won’t feed properly (your boobs, your positioning, your teaching him to open his mouth wide enough, your getting upset about ANYTHING, anything at all). And in all this, the Father is either patting the both of you with a helpless look in his eye, or (if you’re not as lucky as me) totally oblivious.
So, I’m starting the “I think I’m going to give up” portion of breastfeeding… I sat through an additional 2 weeks with the boys’ feeding when I started to feel like this. But with this one, I’m hoping this will pass. Quickly. Without me giving up. Some thoughts to keep me going:
1. It’s actually easier to live with this Pain (yes, I’m still very sore, even though I am METICULOUS with my positioning and have had LOTS of professional help – both this time and with the boys) than the Guilt. Mostly that I wasn’t tough-enough to stick it out, of it being my fault every time he gets sick. And with the boys with a good few months left of school this year, he will get sick.
2. Bottle washing is a pain (but not with a capital P, and there are other people who can do it). And Nan is expensive.
3. Breastfeeding will help me lose the pregnancy weight (only 2kgs to go on this pregnancy, but still a remnant 6kgs left from the boys’ pregnancy.. and then some)
4. Mel’s Bestfeeding book tells the tale of moms who fed exclusively and successfully on one boob (one was a mom of twins) and Matt thrived pretty well on my right boob exclusively
5. I AM strong and I AM determined (thank you, Katie for your unending encouragement).
I cry now. And feel guilty about it (because you can’t get upset.. it’ll affect your baby!!!)

Disclaimer: This is NOT your average breastfeeding experience. DO NOT LET ME PUT YOU OFF. Most people I know have struggled for a couple of weeks, then have gone on to breastfeed for months (even years) with great success and minimal effort.

On a lighter note: Sue asked Matt how he knows which is his bike (we marked them with a “M” and a “T” a long, long time ago), to which he answered, pointing at Tim’s bike: “Cos that’s one’s Tim’s”. Don’t you just love their logic?

Mythbusters & sleeping babe

Boooooring, Mom’s watching Mythbusters AGAIN! My days are filled with sleeping baby (& sleeping me, occasionally), waiting for him to wake to relieve my mammaries, trying to find something to watch on TV (and resorting to Mythbusters, again) and wishing I had more energy so I could do STUFF (like paint bottom room, sort out bookcase etc)
It’s actually all good. Really. If you discount how my body seems to be failing me (or perhaps just not living up to my Virgo-perfectionalistic standards).

She resurfaces

I haven’t blogged for ages. It’s because I’m suffering from Humour Deficit Disorder (amongst other things), and was NOT (absolutely NOT) going to write a whiney post. I refused. Breastfeeding and sleep deprivation made me lose it slightly this week. I’m getting better, though, and the following things helped:
- James’ comment. Really made me giggle, thanks.
- talking to Sean on the phone, and getting near to some TMI topics (Too Much Information)… I enjoyed shocking him, made me laugh.
- Matt running into the lounge to ask: “Timmo, please fetch my do-do” (Tim climbs in and out his campcot with no trouble, to have a quick suck on his dummy & a quiet feel of his blanket. But Matt, being the short shit, can’t get into his. So he asks his brother, ever so politely, to get his dummy for him.)
Other news from the week (no whining allowed / aloud): Ant was weighed on Monday, and has picked up weight very nicely. He’s a strapping lad of 4.48kg now. We had a lovely long visit with Pete & Karen Lindstrom… good to catch up again. I’m getting back to some work, which is uplifting (not a drag at all). And Gareth’s in Cape Town, with his waterpolo team… they’re doing nicely, just have to win their quarter-final now to move up to the next level. And I’m getting that nesting feeling again… perhaps that’s because every room in the house looks like a bird’s nest (one that a mom-weaver has rejected).

On cabin fever...

I blog now with my boobs resting on my desk. I kid you not. Breastfeeding is really the pits. I have yet to have a “good experience” with it… although, it does have some scatterings of good moments (like no bottle washing). I remember these during bouts of sleep-deprived insanity.
Just when I thought I was getting over the “baby blues”, I started crying again. I thought it was related to frustration of breastfeeding, but those tears are born out of Pain and accompanied by foul words. Very foul words. My Very Wise Husband says (gingerly, so as not to upset me further, and have foul words flung his way), “I think, perhaps, you might be experiencing a little cabin fever. You know, you haven’t been out or had company, other than Ant, for the last week. Do you want to visit someone tomorrow. I’ll be your chauffer, and I’ll take all 3 of our boys so you can have tea with someone.” Do you get this guy? I hadn’t remembered about cabin fever… Last time, I had my hands full, and my Dad was here. Now it’s just me and Ant, and he isn’t much company cos he sleeps about 23hrs out of 24. And I’m too exhausted (from staying awake most of the night waiting to wake up and relieve my right boob) and too sore (from blinking Caesar) to get out much. And I’m not very good company.
So today, my DH takes us all to Cintsa East for milkshakes and a picnic on the beach. The weather was absolutely stunning, and our first borns were pretty well behaved, relative to the rest of the day/week. Anthony got his first sand in his hair, ears, eyebrows, and slept through the whole experience. Matt & Tim had their crusts from breakfast for lunch (we’re seriously putting our collective parental feet down about such things) and G & I enjoyed lovely fresh rolls with cheese & tomato. Ok, in the end, I relented, and the boys got a cheese roll to play with in the sand.
Tomorrow we have a wedding (déjà vu of Sean & Sue’s wedding, a mere 11 days after the boys were born?), so I get to dress up and see some people. Cool. And we’ll probably take the sleepy Ant with us. Then Monday, we go to town… So I think I’ll get over this “cabin fever”… With some cunning from my DH.
Must sign off… It sounds like Ant’s awake, and I don’t want to miss it!!

I must be ok...

I must be OK… I’m scrapbooking again. Ali gave me some beautiful paper (SEI) for my birthday, and I couldn’t wait to use it. Here it is…

Check out 2Peas for the journaling if you’re interested. Here’s the link… can’t get to my “code” to make a neat link, cos Gizmo is sleeping in my box of tricks. Let sleeping cats lie (especially if they’re real grumpy, like Gizmo).
http://www.twopeasinabucket.com/pg.asp?gallery=1&cmd=display&layout_id=662923