A friendly loving reminder, was what it took this time, to persevere with another blog entry. A dear friend, whom knows me quite well, gently reminded me that someone enjoys my blog and that even that doesn’t matter so long as I enjoy it. You see I never started a blog for fame or popularity but simply for someone to enjoy my writing, my style, my take on things. I think because of the beautiful world that can be generated by social media, I began to put a value on my “worth”. Somewhere along the line I starting using numbers as validation that my effort was worthwhile and it meant I was “good at this”. So I stopped. I stopped thinking about what I wanted to say and write. All because I didn’t get some magic number of likes or page hits on my website. I hate numbers generally speaking, so why should it matter. Why do we need numbers, notifications, friends requests, likes, or emoticons to validate our life moments so much these days? Which in turn got me thinking about the vile judgemental world than can be whipped up quicker thana Queen Elsa storm when one mummy makes a statement or choice that another doesn’t agree with.

I’ve been hung up on time an awful lot lately. The time I’m not getting with my children. The time I’m not using as a proper mum should be. The time I choose to use by sleeping instead of dragging myself out if bed to do exercise that I loathe. The time spent collapsed on the couch because my brain cannot function properly to play housewife after working and fighting the epic battle that is story and bedtime. Time, time time! I hate it so muchlately that I have not bothered to replace my watch battery.

But why? I couldn’t understand why the obsession. Then it hit me after reading an article (referred by previously mentioned friend whom endured my rant over time). I was doing the very thing that I was trying to avoid when I started my blog. Comparing myself! I am woman, I have a choice. I stand proudly by my choice but not everyone would think I am doing the best I can as a mummy.

So whilst I envisioned the following statements being in a warm and fuzzy story, I’m going to embrace what I wanted MY OWN MUMMY to be and use my blog to be just me.

I’ve got some awesome girlfriends! You know you are awesome right? I have friends that stay home with their little people and make it look like a breeze. I have friends that are raising their babies on their own and by heavens they do a great job. I’ve got friends whom are married but still do it all by themselves. Friends that stress over all the little things like routine and clean outfits, friends that have endless patience and energy. I love them all. For all sorts of reasons. But I find myself comparing myself to them at times.

Somedays I so want to be a different type of mummy. Somedays I want to be the mummy that does need or want to work. Eventually it passes. What doesn’t pass is the want to be a different mummy. I want to learn to ignore those dishes on the sink. I want to ignore the washing and sit in my pjs all weekend in front of of fire and just play randomness games. But I can’t. I just cannot. Why? What is so wrong with my makeup that it doesn’t allow me to just sit and be with them and cherish the random toys around the house? Why can’t I just sit and be a mummy to the two people in the world that don’t care about anything else but me sitting and playing or pushing the swing for endless hours. Why cannot I not just put the first and worry about all the other jobs later.

Do all mummies feel like this? Do we all think we are not doing even a semi decent job? Women are funny creatures even at our finest moments. We are our own biggest critics. We hold our own child raising theories and practises like a sword or shield depending on the situation. But then we can be each other’s biggest cheerleaders.

So I ask you this? Either publicly or privately be honest about your fears as a mummy. To yourself, to your partner, to your cheerleading BFF. But please please please always be a cheerleader to your friends. Be a supporter to those women that parent differently. You have no idea of their circumstances. Remember that in today’s society we women get the power of choice. You don’t get to judge other women’s choices; breast or bottle, attachment or babywise, married or single, working in or out of the home. Today we are afforded a choice. Sometimes choice comes with a burden, try to ease burden and be a Cheerleader. Xo

Life of the everyday ordinary kind has a funny way of getting in the road of those little dreams and goals we set for ourselves. begin to realise and then selflessly put on the shelf to deal with other things. My writing was no exception to this little reality check. I knew it had been way too long since my last post. I was conscious of the time because I followed the days by reading my prem’s hospital journal that I kept so diligently. But reading was easier than writing, so the time slipped by. Well by slipped by I mean that it wasn’t all sweetness and light and playdoh. My little family had some major changes and decisions to make and execute. The biggest of which was a shift in locations and a role reversal. In the space of a few weeks we moved cities, I returned to work full time and Captain Happy (hubby) became a stay at home daddy!

From a mummy point of view I had mixed feelings. Of which I will save and share another time.

From a wife point view, I need to share my respect (note I didn’t say insight). Plus I think I owe a few of you an explanation about the nickname “Captain Happy”. So here goes. Obviously being my husband I could write for pages but I will try not to.

Captain Happy, my perpetually smiling, upbeat, happy go lucky, personal ray of sunshine. I’ve known him for about 16 years and nothing has changed he is just a happy person. Annoyingly so at times. He just wants to make everyone smile, at the very least. This can make discussions of the serious kind very difficult at times but then it can also provide much needed comic relief at others. There is always, always a bright side that he finds and points out. How can she possibly find this annoying I hear you ask? Well simply put, sometimes a girl just wants to have a good sulk or indulge in a mood or precious moment. Nope not in this little fish bowl. Suck it up and keep going until you find something to smile about.

I’m not usually someone that wants to mope about. I love finding joy in simple things. The way the sun hits frost on a cob web, the smell of summer’s nights the purity of children playing. But he lives by finding a reason to smile or not having a reason at all just smiling because the day ends in a “y”

It’s this happiness that gets us through our allotted challenges. We have our share like anyone else. We are not special, or immune. We are incredibly lucky with many things we have had to face but that is all. There is never a dull moment, life can resemble a circus most of the time and sometimes I could just superglue his lips together when he cracks a joke in the middle of a discussion. However at the end of each day or the haze of an impending crisis I can count on the sunshine that I married.

So that in a nut shell is Captain Happy. I was concise as possible. Plus we must keep check of egos and all. But then I guess that’s what our children can do for us. Or so the captain has discovered in his recent role as a stay at home dad. Stay tuned for that shock to our systems.

I need plans!  I have finally come to accept that when things do not go to plan it is not the end of the world but I still like to have them for most things.

The romantic in me had my birth plan all sorted. By birth plan I mean I planned the moment that I announced to my husband that our anticipated baby Jelly Bean was coming. It went a little something like this;

I would be looking radiant, stunning and the picture of pregnancy perfection. I would have cleared up after a lovely dinner and would be sipping a cup of tea when I calmly turn to him and say “Sweetheart, our baby is coming”. To this he would kiss me, pick up my suitcase and we would drive to the hospital. Have the baby and announce our joy to the world. Birth Plan CHECK! Ok so I know that most people are more concerned about planning the birth itself but I figured I would be fine, there were medical staff and our private Obstetrician to help me with that particular bit.

So I was organised. Pre Natal classes were booked to begin a few weeks on our return from New Zealand.  I would do some more reading about the finer “details” of going into labour after our much needed holiday. I was not taking with me a single book. I usually do not leave the house without a book because “You just never know when you might get some reading time”.  I was not going to get reading time, I was going to be totally focussed on my husband and our trip. I now have reverted to my previous belief system and carry a book everywhere again (even with two children and no time to drink a glass of water).

On the first full day of our trip I was not being a picture of glowing pregnancy. My back ached so much I needed help getting out of the car. I was freezing cold, but I was in New Zealand and I do hate the cold so that particular complaint did not count. I should have known I was a little ill. I ordered pumpkin soup for dinner at this gorgeous little cafe the evening before. For a lover of food, pumpkin soup just isn’t normally an acceptable dinner.

Our first full day in NZ was nice, apart from my need to be helped out of the car because my back was still sore, I could barely breathe let alone move. Yes ok that should have given it away right there but I was jumping around like a crazy person with my ballet students four days prior so I was blaming that. Captain Happy went for a run later that afternoon whilst I curled up in the hotel room, with the heating on high. NZ was honestly freezing. On his return Captain Happy instantly complained that the room was ridiculously hot. I was indignant! I informed him that I was cold and that was that. Mind you there may or may not have been a pregnant lady sneaking off to the shower about five minutes after that discussion.  Said pregnant lady might have also been drinking a glass of water in the shower, using two hand because she was shaking with cold so much.

Ok, so I am not the most intelligent person when it comes to signs that things with my body are not good. Thankfully my husband knows how to pull the heart strings. Convincing me that even though I am “just getting a cold” we should just check on the baby considering the flight and all. Off to outpatients we went. A couple of tests later and we have a kidney infection. I was stoked, I would get some anti-biotics (not so great but there are worse things) and I would feel better in the morning and we could enjoy our holiday. Wrong! I was being admitted. I had never been in hospital in my life and now I am in a different country being imprisoned to a hospital bed. Not happy but honestly was feeling too sick to argue too much. My temperatures were causing concern.

How can this be, I never get sick. A cold her and there, nasty headache and that was it. I would endure the injustice and be on my way tomorrow. Tomorrow turned into the next day but I had ket my temp down over night (like I actually get a choice) and I wanted out. With the speech prepared in my head I patiently waited for the doctors to do their rounds.  My partner in crime (driver of the getaway car) was nowhere to be found either. I came up with the perfect idea of ensuring they all arrived. I would waddle my way to the bathroom. Everything happens when you “quickly” go to the bathroom. Indeed it did.

Discoveries were made on my trip to the bathroom. I was in labour. I did not realise this straight away. I even had a midwife ask how on earth could I be 4-6cm and not have any idea. Well my dear midwife, unlike you I have not done this before, nor do I deliver babies every day at work. I talk fuel and regulations not babies and breathing. Ever the in control freak I did ask the doctor if I was really quiet could I possibly get in the car, drive straight to Auckland, get on a plane and at least get to Sydney. Please remember I was in shock and was yet to do my all-important labour research.

Apparently the only flying I was doing was in a helicopter to a hospital that could deal with the baby.

That was what the medical staff had planned. Little Jelly bean however was not willing to share the helicopter with mummy and was coming. Four hours later this tiny little rabbit type creature was quickly shown to me before being whisked out of the room.

Our daughter was born. We were parents. Now that I had done that job it was time for a shower. I was in shock. I was given a task, deliver the baby. Well I had done what was asked. It was not the moment that is aspired to my most women. I had dry eyes, I still had doctors working at the other end of my body (like they had no seen enough over the last five hours), the baby was wrapped and whisked away. Where was that moment that everyone promises, where was the rush of love, that natural incredibly addictive “high” that everyone talks of.

It had been lost, lost in the shock that our precious little baby was here too early. What was too early? Does this early arrival mean endless days in hospitals? Does it mean she was not coming home? Was she fully developed? Was she even alive? We had just become parents of a 30+4week premmie baby and we had absolutely no idea what was in store for us.

Starting anything can feel like an explosion of emotion. Scary, exciting, relieving, daunting, empowering or soul crushing. These feelings are not mutually exclusive either. We have the capacity to feel numerous emotions all at once. It is, however, those feelings that leave little stamps on the milestones and moments of our lives. Sometimes you get a smiley face stamp, sometimes “You’re a Star” and others there is that “Keep Trying” stamp.

When my Husband and I began trying for a baby it was going to be simple. Stop using contraceptive and BAM we would be pregnant right? Well that is why I diligently took the pill every day for  over 10 years. We were not desperate for children, when it happened it happened. Well that theory was good for the first five months of trying. Thankfully my thirst for knowledge (and mild panic that somehow I must be doing something wrong) led me to some research and information. Armed with this knowledge and some “tools” we got that ever anticipated “second line”. Relief and excitement were plastered all over our faces. We were going to be parents. As it turns out, when it came to conception we were one of the lucky couples. Oh how we learn the hard facts of life on this EPIC journey of parenthood. The thing was we had absolutely no idea just how hard those facts were and we were even more vague on the harsh reality that was learning those lessons.

Like a lot of couples (sans children) we thought we had all the answers. We knew how we would raise our little cherubs. We knew exactly that they would undoubtedly do exactly as they were told when they were told. We knew that they would have impeccable manners; they would be a little bit clever and maybe reach a milestone or two a little early. We pretty much knew what we were signing up for.   It turns out the fairyland contract we were planning to sign did not exist. In fact instead of an orderly business contract where parties are all versed in expectations and limitation, we had just purchased two non-refundable tickets to the scariest, most exhilarating and completely amazing “hold onto your pants” circus event there is. Our darling little Jelly Bean had a script she had written all on her own and we were simply the purring kittens waiting to be petted.

I was planning to do everything during my pregnancy and I did. I was perfectly healthy. I was working and teaching ballet part time. People would ask how I did it all. My mental response “Are you kidding? It is not that hard. You find energy and time for that which you want to do”.  What were so many people complaining about? Pregnancy was easy. A couple of days of threatened morning sickness and I was blitzing pregnancy. So smug was I that we booked a two week trip to New Zealand. We had planned a big trip, to China, Canada, America and New Zealand on the way home. I decided that was a little luxurious considering Jelly Bean was on his/her way soon. So with 10 weeks to go I booked in a glacial walk and some other lovely side trips and we jumped on the plane.

 Pregnancy was super fun! A Babymoon! What a terrific excuse for a trip, not that we ever needed one but hey if there was a legitimate one I was using it. New Zealand bound, completely oblivious to the discoveries I was about to make about myself and my Husband (Captain Happy we will call him).

My Own Mummy.