Dear Breastfeeding Warriors

Meh, it’s been eons since I’ve blogged so I thought I may as well crack open the lid on 2013 and weigh in on the current breastfeeding chaos.  It flares up every so often, usually because some person somewhere makes a comment that a breastfeeding woman should cover up / move inside / feed elsewhere / etc.   Then breastfeeding advocates everywhere start screaming about how they’re going to FIGHT for their right to feed wherever and whenever they damn well want to, they’re going to organise ‘nurse-in’s’ and breastfeeding rallies and the likes. Well guess what – you already have that legal right. Seriously. It is LAW. You CAN feed wherever you want to and whenever baby wants. Just shut the fuck up and do it. When you constantly FIGHT for the right to do something that you already have legal right to do, that’s exactly what YOU create – a fight. Sure, there are drongos out there who say stupid and nasty things to and about breastfeeding women – guess what, there are drongos out there that say stupid and nasty things to formula feeding women too, and women with crying babies, and women with screaming toddlers and the list goes on. It is going to happen, it happens to everyone, everywhere. Rise above it and just get on with it and do what you need to do.

Now, FIGHTING for a right that you do not currently legally hold, that is a different story. I will stand with the Gay & Lesbian groups who have to fight for the LEGAL right to be equal to the heterosexual population. But when you continue to wave your “we’re so hard done by” banner and “we have to continue to FIGHT” mantras you are completely spitting in the face of causes that truly HAVE to fight to be legally recognised.  You do not HAVE to fight, you CHOOSE to fight – and because of this simple fact that is exactly what you get each and every time – A FIGHT. Why do you like to fight so much? I just don’t get it. I’ll say it again, you ALREADY have the LEGAL right to feed anywhere and anytime – so just do it, stop fighting about it and just fucking do it. Society will probably never be 100% supportive of public feeding, who the fuck cares? They will never be 100% ok with anything – because we’re all individuals and we all have different views. If you worry about the fact that there are new mothers out there who are not breastfeeding in public or even breastfeeding at all because of society’s views perhaps you should just step back a little and look at the chaos all of your ‘fighting’ causes – I wouldn’t like to be a new mother trying to nurse in public while not yet fully confident while you’re screaming and ranting and raving and throwing unwanted attention at me. I am not your puppet or your mascot, I am a mother feeding my child, stop dragging me into your constant fight – a fight that you already LEGALLY conquered. Instead how about you all just get on with feeding in public, whenever and wherever you damn well choose and eventually people will get sick of complaining about it if their complaints fall on deaf ears. Stop fuelling their fire and stop spitting in the face of causes that truly HAVE to fight.

Success

Many years ago I had a discussion with a friend who was going through a bit of a ‘moment’. She was not long out of university and working her way up as a lawyer. She was upset that some of her university peers were more successful than her. I remember telling her that it was all relative. To me she was extremely successful, she was a university graduate with a double degree, she was working at a Big Five Firm and she was well respected amongst her peers and supervisors. But to her it wasn’t enough. I told her that success is different things to different people and perhaps she just needed to revaluate her definition of success, to some people just having a job is a success. We were on different pages, I couldn’t understand why she didn’t feel successful when the world was her oyster and she didn’t understand why I didn’t understand. Today I understand. Ten years & three children later and I think I understand what she meant that day.

I’ve been feeling like a failure lately. I know that realistically I have no reason to feel this way. I have three beautiful children, we have a modest house, Hubby has a job, we have food on the table and clean clothes and a house full of love. How could I possibly see that as failure? . It’s not that I see my life or my accomplishments as a failure, it’s that I see my inability to do what I’m ‘supposed’ to do as a SAHM as failure.

The problem is that I have this preconceived notion of what being a SAHM entails. I have this notion that someone in my position should love being a SAHM, she should wake in the mornings and be dressed with her hair done and make up on and breakfast all ready to go for the family before anyone else wakes. She should take the kiddies off to school and kindy and stay to help with crafts and reading and canteen duty and then trot off home to get after school snacks ready and to start preparing dinner. Between doing this and picking the kiddies up she flies around the house cleaning and tidying and keeping everything neat and tidy (obviously while the baby takes a long nap). After picking the kiddies up she heads to the supermarket to buy a few extras needed to complete dinner, all the while laughing and smiling with her kiddies, then heads home and finishes off dinner while the kiddies sit at the table and have a snack and talk happily about their day. The kiddies then skip off and play nicely with each other while she puts the finishing touches on dinner, feeds and baths the baby, makes school lunches and then dishes up dinner when Daddy arrives home. Everyone sits around the dinner table happily eating and sharing stories of their day and laughing with each other. She then baths the kiddies, reads them a bed time story, kisses them on the head and the kiddies go off to sleep. She feeds & settles the baby with no fuss. She tidies the kitchen, potters around the house finishing off a few housekeeping tasks, then takes a nice long hot bath, dresses for bed and curls up with her husband for the night.

Unfortunately for me, my reality looks more like..... Get woken up at some ridiculous hour by husband asking if he has any clean underwear. Tell him where the clothes line is. Drag my tired arse out of bed at the last possible moment, usually when the baby is screaming at me to get up. Feed the baby. Try to stay awake. Ask the boys to go to the breakfast table. Stand in the kitchen yelling to the boys to come to the breakfast table. Try to stay awake. Yell to the boys again to come to the breakfast table. Make breakfast for the boys. Go get dressed. Try to stay awake. Yell at the boys to stop messing around and eat. Go brush teeth. Yell at the boys to stop fighting. Try to stay awake. Pack school bags. Tell the boys to get dressed. Tell the boys to get dressed. Tell the boys to get dressed. Try to stay awake. Take the boys to school/kindy. Come home. Put baby to sleep. Try to stay awake. Fail. Fall asleep. Wake to postman delivering something bought online during sleep deprived state. Wonder what the hell I was thinking when ordering that! Drink coffee. Lots of coffee. Drink more coffee. Wander around the house looking at all of the housework that needs doing. Contemplate where to start. Thank God that the baby wakes and needs feeding so housework can wait. Feed baby. Continue to attempt to use The Force to get housework done. Play with baby, spend way too much time on Facebook and eBay. Pick boys up from school/kindy. Get home. Try to get baby to sleep while breaking up WW3. Break up WW4. Stand in front of fridge/cupboard trying to work out what to cook for dinner. Realise that I was supposed to go to the supermarket today. Spend 2.4 seconds contemplating taking 3 kids to the supermarket then decide on plain pasta for dinner instead. Tell everyone that dinner is ready. Break up WW5. Dish dinner up. Tell everyone that dinner is ready. Tell everyone that dinner is ready. Tell boy 1 to stop ‘looking’ at boy 2. Boy 2 refuses to eat dinner. Argue with boys about showering. Argue with boys about brushing teeth. Argue with boys about putting PJ’s on. Argue with boys about which story to read. Argue with boys about going to bed. Boy 2 is hungry. Argue with boy 2 about not finishing his dinner. Yell at boys to stop fighting and go to sleep. Yell at boys to stop fighting and go to sleep. Argue with boy 2 about not finishing dinner. Yell at boys to go to sleep. Try to settle baby. Unsuccessful. Make lunches, do dishes, tidy kitchen. Try to settle baby. Unsuccessful. Tidy loungeroom, get on Facebook. Try to settle baby. Successful. Spend way too much time on the computer or reading because it’s the only time I’ve had to myself all day. Make plans about how organised I will be the following day. Make lists of all the things I will achieve the following day. Make a list of all the food that I will buy the following day and the subsequent meals that I will prepare. Make a pact to be more proactive, energised, focused, present and organised. Realise it’s 2am. Drag my tired arse off to bed. Realise I forgot to shower. Add that to the list of things to do tomorrow. Get woken up several times by boys. Get woken up by baby, feed baby. Repeat.

So whilst I now understand my friends feelings of not being successful regardless of others view, I still maintain that it’s relative and that in order to feel successful I could just shift my perception of success. If I could just rid myself of the stupid notion of the perfect SAHM then I might just stand a chance of seeing myself as a successful wife and mother. I’ll add that to the list of things to do tomorrow.....

Apologies

When I hear people say “I make no apology for who I am” I just think “Wow, really?” What a great place to be in. To be that self assured and so at peace with who you are and the decisions you make. I, on the other hand, apologise for who I am daily, often several times a day. I am flawed and I still have so much to learn.

I apologise to the people that I glare at and mumble under my breath about in the supermarket because I am yet to master acceptance and tolerance. I can not control the idiocy of others but as I tell my children, I CAN control my reaction to them, so I apologise for my lack of tolerance and acceptance.

I apologise to my children for not really having any idea what I’m doing in this parenting gig and for losing my shit more often than I should. I believe in calm parenting, in talking things through and in leading by example – unfortunately I don’t always live up to those ideals and philosophies.

I apologise for being passionate about various topics but not knowing everything there is to know about them. I have a tendency to hit the ground running with limited information and good intentions. I do strive to learn as much as I can on topics that I’m passionate about, but there are only so many hours in each day and real life doesn’t stop just because I want to sit and read about something.

I apologise for food choices that I make, for where I buy my coffee and where those profits go, for not knowing where and how my clothes are made, for throwing out perfectly good food.

I apologise for not being the type of friend that others need me to be. Over the years I’ve learned what I need and now that I have a family I’ve realised that what I need has to come before what others outside of my family need from me or else it all falls into a heap and my family suffer.

I apologise for not being an earth warrior. For not making decisions and following through on things that will help to save and protect our earth for generations to come. I truly believe in living life this way, in our responsibility to try to undo some of the damage we have done, but I’m lazy and I’m broke and I’m more than just a little selfish. For this I apologise deeply to my children and my grandchildren and all the generations to come. I have no good excuse for this. There is no good excuse.

My list of apologies could go on for pages and pages, but at the end of the day you get the picture. I am sorry. I don’t know that I will ever be one of those people who “makes no apologies” because I will never be able to see myself as anything other than flawed. This is about the unconscious acts. It is one thing to apologise for a conscious act, but I apologise for the unconscious acts that I know are bound to be inappropriate on some level, or upset someone somewhere or cause harm – I guess it’s along the lines of the butterfly effect. I acknowledge that my actions have a wide effect, that the world is bigger than me and my immediate surroundings, so I apologise for the not so positive effects that I inadvertently cast out into the world.

Daydreams of Awesomness

So, in my last update I said that I would elaborate on just what it is that I spend more time than is healthy or acceptable daydreaming about. Nope, it’s not my ManChild Zac Efron, my daydreams about him may be inappropriate in many different ways, but it’s time well spent if you ask me! What I’m talking about is much more self destructive. I have what I refer to as ‘Facebook Envy’. I spend way more time than is appropriate trawling through FB, looking at ‘friends’ photos and status updates and envying their lives over my own boring, mundane, groundhog life. I especially like to torture myself by focusing on females my own age who are traveling, living overseas, have amazing careers, lead glamorous lives and have retained their youthful figures and sparkling eyes (which I’m guessing is helped by not having children and living a life of sleep deprivation).

This habit is extremely healthy. It really highlights my achievements, makes me thankful for the..... ah fuck it, who am I kidding, it’s painful and I do it because I’m masochistic & I enjoy torturing myself. I tell myself and them that I’m living vicariously through them when in reality I’m just plain envious and I’m stalking them. After a decent stalk session I’m left yearning for a life I could have had. If I’d just made a few different decisions I would now have an amazing Hollywood career, I would be a celebrated actress living a glamorous life and spending my days being fabulous. Or perhaps I would be travelling the world, having mind-blowing adventure after mind-blowing adventure and spending my days being fabulous. Then again I could have pursued that brilliant & fulfilling career and currently be at the top of my field, celebrated, world renowned and spending my days being fabulous. Sensing a theme here?? These alternative lives I speak of are not based in fact, I did not pass up any golden opportunities in the past that would lead me to believe that any of this is in fact possible it is simply the ramblings of a mid 30’s housewife who has come to realise just how quickly life passes by and just how much we can control our own destiny simply by striving for greatness, rather than spending your youth pissed as a maggot in random clubs and talking shit about all the things that you’re never going to do because you’re too busy waiting for life to come and get you rather than hunting it down & grabbing hold of it.

Of course in reality I know that what my objects of envy are posting on FB are the things they want me to see. I’m seeing a snapshot of their lives, I’m getting the ‘Best of’ reel. I do it myself. I don’t post photos of me looking like a sack of shit (hence not many photos!), I don’t post photos of my tiny, shitty little house, I don’t update about how many shitty nappies I’ve changed or how many fights I’ve broken up between the kids today, I post about sunshine and fucking butterflies. One might see my FB page and ascertain that I have three adorable children, a funny & hardworking husband and we do stuff and have fun and we shit glitter because we’re so fucking awesome and happy. Obviously if you took the time to read my blog you’d know the stone cold truth. And besides, it’s all relative. Someone who has that seemingly ‘amazing’ life still has to get up every day, they have to do what they do to make ends meet, they have to eat, clean, make beds, shower, shit – no matter what you’re chasing, when you find it and you stop chasing then that becomes your ‘every day’ and after a while any version of ‘every day’ gets old. So is the answer to keep chasing? What sort of life would that be? Always chasing something better, never satisfied with what you have, always sleeping with one eye open just so you don’t miss that next best thing.

So, through all my trawling, my FB envy, my vicarious living & my excessive daydreams I take something useful. I am adamant that my children will grow up knowing just how much power they have over their destiny. They will dare to dream and dream big and they will not squander their youth waiting for life to happen around them, they will become Life Hunters and seek it out daily. They will know the value of life & just how quickly it passes. But they will also know when to just stop and be present. That’s the key, to find the balance between moving forward and being present. If I can find that line & translate it into something tangible then I shall bottle it and make my squillions, and then spend my days being fabulous.

Lastly, here's a little eye candy to wrap things up....... mmmmm......

My cold hard truth

I had romantic notions of motherhood. I always said that I knew it would be hard, but I don’t really think I did. I had visions of rainbows and cupcakes and puppies and butterflies. Sure, I’d be tired, but the pure joy of raising my young would pull me through. Sure, there would be housework and washing to do, but the sun would shine, I would pop some music on and the kids & I would dance around the house while I unleashed my domestic goddessness (yes, it’s now a word). Yup, there would be errands to run & grocery shopping to do, but I would bundle my cherubs up and we would enjoy the outings, stopping for treats at cafe’s and having coffees & baby chinos together, perhaps while catching up with friends. Fuck me. Stupid woman.

I will now enter a disclaimer saying that I do not proclaim that this is how it is for every woman, this is simply my journey. And yes, I do love my children, and yes I did choose to be a mother. We’ll get to that later. Maybe.

What I found on the other side of the delivery suite was groundhog day. For the past 6.5 years I have been a SAHM (stay at home Mum) with the occasional foray into the working world here and there, but nothing of any length or substance. I’ve found the same load of dishes that need washing 6 times a day, the same loads of clothes that also need washing every day, the same meals that need cooking, the same kitchen table that needs wiping, the same floors that need mopping, the same beds that need making, you get my drift. My life is like the fucking magic pudding. Every time I take a slice out of the domestic duties it magically reappears. It’s mind-numbingly tedious and beyond frustrating. Blokes, let me try an analogy for you..... Imagine you were a brickie. You build walls. One day you go to the worksite and you build a wall. Every time you stop for 5 minutes to go to the loo or have a drink or god forbid have some food some little fucker sneaks in and knocks down what you’ve just done. You have to start again. You continue like this even after everyone else has gone home for the day, until finally you decide to just say ‘fuck it’ and head home to bed. You go back to that same job site in the morning and, you guessed it, your wall is in complete disarray. You have to do it all over again. Once again, every time you make any headway it’s knocked down. Keep reliving this scenario every day of every week of every month of every year. Even when you go on holidays, you just have to build that wall somewhere else, the wall is always with you and it always needs doing. You can’t just not tend to the wall because then the roof that is teetering precariously over the top, being held up by god only knows what will come crashing down. You chose to be a brickie, you made a commitment to that building, you must maintain that wall. You’re not allowed to do anything else. It’s only going to be about 20 years out of your life. It’s not forever.

It has nothing to do with not loving my children, or not being grateful for the opportunity to raise them. Well okay, so maybe I do sound ungrateful. I’m not though. I’m just sick of groundhog day.

It’s come to the point where I’ve been neglecting the wall. The wall pisses me off. I’m fucking sick of the wall. I wish I were one of those women that basked in the glow of domestic bliss, that found joy & satisfaction in keeping house, but I’m not and I don’t. I love having kids, and I love raising them, but the domestic side of it, the ‘stay at home’ part of the SAHM is making my brains leech out of my ears. So why not head out to work – well for starters there is the logistical impossibility of that happening for another 6 months because Mr R (5yo) is still in kindy and his daycare doesn’t do a drop off/pick up with our chosen kindy – but after that, well I could pop Miss E (will then be 13 months) into daycare and head out to work...... wait...... cue Mother guilt (refer to previous post for the lowdown on that one). Besides, what the hell would I do? I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. Should I take this time to study? Study what? And who’s going to hire a 40 year old (by the time I finish my degree) who is a novice in this new career? Plus, as selfish and self centred as I sound, I still want to be there for my kids, I want to be able to drop them off and pick them up from school. I want to be with them for school holidays.

So, let’s recap. Being a SAHM is doing my head in. The domestic side of it makes me want to slam my head in a car door repeatedly just for a break from the mundane. Every day is groundhog day & my brain has turned to liquid. I want to do something outside of the home but I feel too guilty to do so and I have no idea what to do anyway. Instead I just whinge about it and spend more time than is healthy or acceptable daydreaming about stuff that I will talk about in my next post...........

Yep, that pretty much covers it. But wait you say, I didn’t resolve anything here, where is the conclusion, where is the answer. Hey, I never said I was any good at this blogging shit, and I never said I was actually going to write anything worth reading.......

Mother Guilt

It seems the more I decide to take a proactive and contentious approach to this parenting gig and read/research various topics the heavier my cloak of guilt becomes. The hardest part is that it doesn't matter what you do or how you do it, there is always someone somewhere to tell you that you are wrong. Of course there is always contradicting research to support your efforts and tell you that you're doing the best that you can and that your child will be fine, but as Mother's we're conditioned to gravitate towards the ‘you're failing dismally' literature. Why do we do this to ourselves? Or is it just me?

I care. I am an active parent. I have a relationship with my children. I listen to them, tend to them, encourage them to be independent and strong, conscientious and kind, and yet I am constantly riddled with guilt.

It seems every time I log my computer on or activate my smart phone someone has posted or sent me a link to a blog or an article telling me how to raise my kids. The problem is that when you’re a conscientious parent and want to do the very best job you possibly can all this information is completely overwhelming. The fact that one article will completely contradict the article you read last week and started implementing doesn’t help the guilt factor or the sanity wheel either.

The beauty of this technology age is that we can share information so freely. Anyone can write about anything & post it to the internet, then anyone from anywhere can read it and share it. It’s a beautiful thing. What’s not so beautiful is that you don’t actually need to back up what you write with solid, factual information or research. Or if you do want to appear more reputable you can always find some ‘research’ on the internet to back up whatever claim you want to make. Whether that research is actually conducted and reported correctly, well who cares, it backs up your views and opinions. And that is really all there is to so much of the parenting stuff that is circulated and rammed down our throats by well meaning friends, relatives and colleagues – it’s someone’s opinion, sometimes ‘backed up’ by some dodgy ‘research’.

Of course, aside from all the reading materials there's the guilt handed out by people around us. The little jibes like "Oh, you left your baby overnight already, I could never do that" or "Oh, you let them eat that do you" or "Really, that's great that you are okay with your kids doing that". Fuck me, I'm so sick of the snide, backhanded guilt trips. It seems that once you have children it's okay for everyone to have an opinion on everything that you do, or don't do for that matter.

Parenting is a journey, it is not the destination. You don't suddenly 'arrive' once the baby does, you simply get thrown in the general direction of the path with several people pointing every which way. All we can do is hold tight and keep forging ahead. There is no surefire way & no shortcut to raising amazing children. What matters the most is that we come out the other side, albeit slightly battered and bruised but alive and mostly intact. If we did not question ourselves then we would not reflect, learn, grow, we would miss the opportunity to do things differently next time or to note the best way through the rough patches so we remember how we did it.

Welcome to the world of conscientious parenting. Mother guilt is the new black. It doesn't matter what you do or don't do there is always some dickwad with a keyboard ready to add another layer to your cloak. Fuck it. Wear it with pride.

Keep battling on soldier, you're doing an amazing job.