The things I know on FFS Friday

I'm not sure what this is about, but I want it! Coz she's me!
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Diddy has discovered that the mattress on her cot is nice and bouncy. This means, instead of making a little noise when she wakes, she now stands up and jumps while yelling ‘HEY’ until one of us drops everything and rushes to get her. FFS

Not just after daytime naps. At 3am too. FFS

She used to wake and either chat or make a few squawking noises, giving me ample grace period to finish what I was doing, or wake and make a bottle before she amped up to 11. FFS

No more. Farewell calm wakeups. FFS

On Wednesday afternoon, Boo decided she didn’t want me, but she needed her Dad. FFS

This wasn’t an option, as he was at work but we called my Mum to come over. No FFS

Boo decided she was going to stay there so she wasn’t with me. FFS

She successfully refused to go to school. FFS

Then tried to refuse to come home before visitation with her Dad yesterday. FFS

Most of this is happening because she’s sore and sad all of the time. FFS

Her tonsils and adenoids are being removed on Wednesday…No FFS!!

5 more sleeps…FFS

This is the first ANZAC day I haven’t made it to a service. FFS

I’m too tired to wash my own dishes, let alone go out in public. FFS

I’m quietly being respectful at home. FFS

And here’s the things I know this week:

I know I’ve spent far too much on makeup, but it’s better than spending the equivalent on chocolate….and then eating it all.

I know that I've cleaned out the bank accounts paying for winter sports.

I know that if the mini mofo's get two weeks in to winter sports and change their minds that I'll lose mine.

I know that I'm super-blessed that Diddy's daycare providers are flexible enough to change her day around last-minute when I need them to.

I know Boo’s operation is in a city nearly 2hrs away where I have nowhere to stay.

I don’t know, however, what time we need to be there, if she’ll be admitted overnight or if I’ll be allowed to stay. Why? The paperwork that was meant to arrive a week ago is yet to materialise (FFS)!

I know I mustn’t get too upset though – the tonsils are finally coming out!!

I'm linking up with Sarah at Move Fuel Love for FFS Friday and the lovely Ann at Help, I'm Stuck! to share the Things I Know. Why not join us?

I Have a Dream....

‘...a song to sing. To help me cope with anything’.

Anyone else hear this in their head when they think about having a dream? Especially the Amanda Seyfreid version from Mama Mia. No? Just me then, I guess. Move along, nothing weird here.

This movie is perfect to me, every single time.
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I have a dream occasionally that one day I’ll wake up completely put-together.

You know what I mean, don’t you? Flawless hair, impeccable dress sense and mad skills with makeup, yes. 

But beyond that (and aside from it, really) I dream fervently about being the mum who does it all flawlessly. The mum who breezes out of bed, readies her husband and sends him to work smiling with a belly full of homestyle cookin’ and a lunchbox full of healthy homemade snacks, prepares the kids for school/daycare – again with the excellent food. Cruises to school with all homework complete, helps out in the canteen, comes home and plays with the baby undistractedly for hours. The mum who spends naptime giving her sparklingly clean house a quick once-over and then has a lunch date with friends before going to school pickup and heading home to prepare a thoughtfully planned, nutritionally beneficial meal, clean and tuck in her kids before relaxing with her husband. I dream of doing it all alone, with no snags or flaws, and without tears of pleas for help.

I’m not that mum. If she exists, I want to know about it, because I want to pull her perfectly-coiffed hair and tell her she’s a liar.

This bitch... seriously.
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My dream isn’t going to come true. I’m the mum who isn’t getting out of bed at 5am to get her husband ready for work (seriously, he’s on his own there). I’m the mum fighting the kindergartner to eat her breakfast while the baby flings porridge at my head, at the same time realising we forgot the reader last night and I’ve run out of lunch muffins. I’m the mum who remembers canteen duty 20 minutes before it starts, on a day when I don’t have a babysitter ready. The mum who’s barely left her house in weeks, and hasn’t had a social life in months. I’m the mum who realises at 6pm that she hasn’t defrosted dinner and makes bacon and egg salad, before skipping bathtime and sending the kids to bed so I can have a quick reprieve before the baby wakes.

Maybe if I had animal helpers and a Fairy Godsomeone...
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My heart wishes my kids had the perfect mum. The one who never misses appointments, who reads endless stories every night and who takes them on educationally enriching, yet entertaining trips every weekend. But my head knows the truth about me and the truth about my kids. My head knows that I get to watch them grow, and be their mummy, and that's enough. My head is grateful.

I’m never going to be the put together mum, because it’s not me. I’m the slightly scatty mum wearing yoga pants everywhere. But I’m also the only mum my kids have. I’m the one who kisses their scrapes, smooths away their troubles, plays games with them, cuddles them every single night and generally takes care of them. I’m the one who makes sure they never go hungry, even if occasionally they eat a 2 minute noodle omelette. I’m the one who will always be there. 

I may not be the perfect mum, and how the hell can I be? She’s a myth! But I’m their perfect mum, put together just enough for them. A dream is just a fantasy. I should just be happy I do the best I can. Because in reality? I do OK.

'I'll cross the stream, I have a dream.'

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I Must Confess... Easter 2014

I honestly remember very little from Boo’s first Easter. 

I was exhausted beyond reason, my relationship was falling apart and she was just too young for any of it. I have one grainy photo of me smooching her while she wears a bunny suit. She still has the Peter Rabbit toy she got, and I can be fairly certain that we went to the local Easter Market and it was bedlam. But apart from that it’s mostly darkness, mixed up with ‘could’ve happened’ events.

This time around, I’m much more together. For a start, there were 3 kids to deal with – one has worked out the Easter Bunny’s secret, one is a 100% believer and one is just old enough to be wanting to steal chocolate. So we did it up right. New jammies and treats from the bunny, eggs all over the place, another trip to the Easter market (it’s still bedlam. The town quadruples in size over Easter, it’s a huge tourist/camping destination) and then I gave Diddy her first chocolate. But to ensure I didn’t forget all those precious memories again, she had her first chocolate with studio lighting and my work camera aimed in her direction.

Here’s the results!

All Images Copyright TrewBella Photography 2014. All Rights Reserved.

There’s many things about Boo’s first year or two that I can’t get back. Circumstances have meant that my memories are shaky and my organisation from that time isn’t fantastic. I’m tied to the little things – a smell, an item of clothing and so on. I can’t fix that, but I can hold my memories. And I can make sure that I preserve Diddy’s for all of us. 

Just a Few Hours

I experienced Mummy Nirvana on Saturday. 

At 8am, I jumped out of bed, did my makeup, got dressed, jumped in the car….and left my kids and husband at home. For 5 hours.

It….was…BLISS!

As mums, I know we’re not really meant to admit that running away is our fantasy, but be honest, occasionally we all have that dream of being single and kid-free. Saturday was the closest I’ll ever come to living that dream, and I’m not ashamed to say that I loved every second of it. 

Here’s the honest to goodness truth: I went out to do the groceries. A few months ago, Husbeast and I did the sums and worked out that if we go to the nearest major shopping town 45 minutes away and make use of Aldi, the green grocers and she bulk butchery, it’s cheaper even with the travel costs than doing our grocery shopping at the local Woolworths, so these days we head there a minimum of once a fortnight. Normally, we all go together on a Sunday, but after two weeks of school holidays I’d had about enough. I needed a few hours on my own, and so Husbeast was on parenting details with no choice.

For those curious, I wrapped it up in the big pretty bow of ‘the Easter Bunny needs to finish shopping and he can’t do it with Boo watching’. Why yes, I am a genius.

I wanted to play my music loud in the car and sing at the top of my lungs. I wanted to buy clothes, and browse Priceline for a few choice makeup items. I wanted to be the one picking Boo’s clothes without her arguing and wanting trashy crap I wasn’t willing to pay for. I wanted so badly not to change a nappy, make a bottle, have an argument or say ‘No, I’ve already said no to that!’ for just a few hours! Is that so wrong?

Apparently so.

I got Mummy shamed for my time away. The disgruntled Aldi guy (why are they so damn sour? The get it better than a LOT of other supermarket workers!) asked why I looked so happy to be grocery shopping. I told him that I was relaxing and having some kid-free time and got told (by the lady behind me) that ‘your children are a blessing, be thankful for them and not for being without them’. It took all my strength to reply with a reserved ‘they’re spending time with their Daddy so Mummy can relax.’

How very dare she? When did being a mother mean I ceased being a person with needs? Why can’t I have, and relish, a few hours away without being made to feel guilty? My kids were safe and looked after, Husbeast was happy to be with them and I needed that time out. It recharged my batteries so I can be a good mother for another few weeks.

What I wanted to say to the lady and her opinion was ‘Go fuck yourself. Until you live my life don’t you judge my choices, how dare you?’ I wanted to detail the assorted school holiday tantrums, the teething, crawling, standing and falling dramas, the ins and outs of separated parenting and my manipulative, slightly unpleasant stepson and make her understand that my job is hard as fuck and I deserve a rest. But I didn’t. Four years ago, as a very young, very single mother, I would have. But now, I know that her archaic opinion doesn’t matter. She’s from a different time, and it’s possibly a very, very long time since she was a stay at home mother. Likely she never had step-drama or chronic illness and me unloading on her isn’t going to open her eyes or mind, it’d just waste my breath and upset me. 

Instead, I took a deep breath, said ‘thankyou’, paid for my groceries and came home to love on my kids and husband. And as I drove home, singing at the top of my lungs, I reminded myself of one thing:

It’s not selfish to take a few hours for yourself. It’s necessary.

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Things I Know and Things I Wish I Knew - The FFS Friday Variety Hour.

It's Friday!! Apparently Good Friday (hands up all the Stay At Home Mums who beg to differ?) And I'm FFS'ing with Move, Fuel, Love, sharing the Things I Know with Help! I'm Stuck and Flogging my Blog at With Some Grace. Enjoy! 

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I know for a fact that my oldest two children are out to collectively kill me this week. The oldest, my stepson Bozo, is enlisting the help of his mum and grandmother in this task…FFS

I know that Bozo has been lying to all of the adults in his life, because I’ve caught him doing it on more than one occasion. When his father and I bring it up with the mother and grandmother (hereafter known as the Tweedles (as in Dum and Dee), we’re told ‘He’s just a little boy testing his boundaries’. 

HE ISN’T A LITTLE BOY, HE’S NEARLY 11 YEARS OLD! HE’S ONLY LYING BECAUSE YOU TWO MAKE IT ACCEPTABLE!! FFS

I wish I knew why the Tweedles, seemingly two adult members of society believe that lying to everyone for everything is at all acceptable.

I know that Boo is using my own stress and panic in her efforts to kill me. She’s taken to picking up and carrying around her baby sister. FFS

She’s 5 years old, her sister weighs well over 11kg, and Boo’s muscle tone isn’t the best because her ridiculously huge tonsils have stunted her development. FFS

I finally lost it this week and made her spend 6 hours in her room. It was cruel, but all I’ve done this week is tell her not to do things – 4 to 5 times per thing.

I wish I knew a way to get the ‘no means no’ message into her head.

I know I don’t want to smack her.

I know that Diddy is teething. How do I know? 3 weeks of screaming, drooling, chewing baby. And half a tooth. FFS

Half a tooth?!? After the carry-on she should have five of the mofo’s….

I know, trust me I do, that it’s hurting her, and I’m doing everything I can to soothe that hurt.

But I wish I knew why it was designed that teething is such a bitch for everyone involved. FFS

I know my darling Husband wants Diddy to have her first chocolate on Easter Sunday. Surprisingly I'm ok with this. In fact, I have a photo shoot idea I want to try.

I'm just not sure I can handle the mess. FFS

I know, after denying the fact for ages, that if I get up a little earlier and do my makeup and look presentable, I feel 1000% better about my day of kid-wrangling.

I know that I turfed most of a my makeup a few years ago, and the rest of it has gone gluggy, so I need to go shopping and replace my stash. No FFS!

I can hear my credit card sobbing already FFS

I wish I knew how to apply makeup properly.

I know now, after 2 weeks of school holidays that the first day of school (Tuesday) can’t come fast enough. My little button-pusher Boo is aching to go back to school and I can’t wait to drop her off because she’ll be much more pleasant. 

I know, however, that in a week and a half she’s going for her tonsil removal which means ANOTHER WEEK AT HOME. FFS