Tuesday, June 30, 2009

The Kitchen Pantry & Kitchen Fridge - mortal enemies of the Stay-At-Home Mum


Ok, its time to back away from the kitchen, sloooooooowly, and put down that kit kat/crackers/muesli bar - insert any food group really - and return to that tranquil place within where fool does not fuel your every thought.

Truthfully, the pantry and the fridge have become my waistline's mortal enemy, a nemesis to my nonexistent willpower when it comes to food. And its always the stuff I shouldn't be having that my body so desires. Sure, one little fun size chocolate doesn't hurt, I know, but its when I find myself skulking back for just one more, 3 times over, I have to admit that its more boredom, than brazen hunger that is fuelling this binge.

Also, I should clarify, when I claim I'm bored, do not conjure up images of me wiling away my days lazing on the lounge, propped up my fluffy pillows, staring at the ceiling lamenting that I have nothing to do. I wish! Indeed, having a little man who needs entertaining 12 hours a day, and trying to maintain the chaos that now is my home doesn't leave much spare grazing time. It's more the sheer monotony of my day that some times drives me to the door of my fridge in search of some sweet solace.

So, just have some fruit, I hear your say. Yes, good in theory, bad in practice as the apple just doesn't quite hit the sugary spot the same way the blueberry muffins do... Or perhaps I should rid my cupboards of all foods that, like a temptress, seduce me from my no food stance, except for the fact I live within walking distance of about 8 cafes, not to mention a Supermarket within stones throw of home. Temptation thy name is Woolworths!

Thank God then for Wii-Fit and the inspiration it gives me to keep up the workouts, to keep all things in balance and in check.

But if you'll excuse me, I just need to make my 17th trip to the kitchen for the day...

Mum of 2? Not right now, thank you...


On Sunday, I found myself getting my first ever sneak peek into the hardworking world of the alarmingly common creature – the “mother-of-two”. And oh what an eye-popping peak it turned out to be!

We had the pleasure of babysitting my almost 3 year old nephew Logan for a day and whilst he was mostly the best behaved boy possible (bar a slight shove to his cousin Harrison for getting too close to his beloved Bin Truck or Truck book, and then there was the accidental clocking in the head with H’s wooden buzzy bee toy as Logan took flight with it) I still wonder how Mum’s of 2 do it! I mean there is even a reasonable age gap between the two boys – 25 months in fact! Yet I still found myself crawling into bed at the end of the day and falling into a profoundly sound sleep, such was the weariness of every cell in my body.

Exhaustion, whilst surprisingly manageable, reached another level I did not know existed beyond that of being mum to a newborn bub. And I even had my lovely husband to halve the load so God forbid what it would be like if I had to do it day in and day out…. And yes I do know many of you our there do indeed live this life – and live it well! For me though I reel at the thought of introducing another little person into the mix… Perhaps its because we only live in a 2 bedroom unit and DOCS may just knock on our door for exposing our kiddies to living in such un-child-friendly circumstances (perfect tho when you are just DINKS!).

I swear it should be a prerequisite to falling pregnant with number 2 – “You have a backyard do you? One where there is real grass and real space for energy burning activities to be performed? Tick! Then yes, you have permission to go forth and procreate”.

We made do yesterday, we did, and had a lovely day filled with activities designed specifically to expend pent up energy, coupled with the adults desire to get a good old dose of fresh air and Vitamin D. Turns out it was quite easy to run the clock down til it was time for kiddies bedtime! And all that exercise did work wonders for the three boys under my tutelage yesterday (yes three…) Even husband Tone found himself asleep after “volunteering” to lie down with Logan to help him feel more comfortable about going to sleep in a foreign environment. Once I got Mr Cat-Napper to sleep (that’d be Harrison, naturally) I even found myself with 10 blissful minutes to lay down and tune out. Of course it didn’t last long as my son must have spies out in our lounge room, which report back to him the moment I get comfy, and on the drifting point to sleep. Because you can guarantee its then he decides to wake and demand his afternoon of fun begin!

So hats off to you Mum’s of 2 (or 3, or God forbid 4 or more!) you inhabit a world far crazier than mine – and I think mine can be pretty darn manic some days! And while I concede my son has never been happier than when he is playing in the shadow of his beloved big cousin and slept for 12 unbroken hours straight that night, I don’t think there is still any need to contemplate “number 2” being brought into our world. After all, we live in a unit, don’t we?! Well, that’s my (latest) excuse and I am sticking to it…

Welcome to the Nappy Daze!

Sunday Monday, “Nappy Daze”, Tuesday, Wednesday “Nappy Daze”, Thursday Friday “Nappy Daze”, yes even Saturday, there is a “Nappy Daze”, no rest all week for you!

There it is, my own personal theme song. We should all have one (mine have been many and varied over time, including some brilliant Kylie numbers back when I was footloose and fancy free living it up in London). So perhaps I have cheated a little by adapting my latest one from a former famous jingle from the ‘50’s themed show but I can assure you, its more than apt. As I find myself at the centre of the motherhood universe for the very first time, the proud new Mum to 10-and- a-half-month old little Harrison (is there any other kind? Oh yes, the exhausted Mum…), my hazy daze has set in thanks largely to his penchant to poop only when his bottom has been freshly enfolded in a 5-minute old nappy.

As it is now, there is often a sense of de ja vu in my life – change a bum only to find ourselves back where we began just moments ago, but this time greeted with the pleasure of sorting out the well soiled variety! And if there were some kind of competition for changing babies bottoms (and for all I know there could well be), I’m sure I could secure 1st prize – even with a scarf covering my eyes! Oh yes, I have my clean up act down pat – whip it off, wipe it up, wack on the cream and we’re in business again baby!

Now, this being my first trip on the merry-go-round of parenthood, it may well be that this case of Nappy Daze is alarmingly common. You may ask (and many will), why not roll the dice and see if you can have a win on the Craps table? But alas, I have discovered that merely results in great discomfort for both Harrison and I. He, left squishy in an overly soaked nappy and me, left fretting my baby boy’s oh so soft skin is being eaten away.

I give in every time, as every good parent will do. And then, you can almost set your watch by it; some 300 seconds later you will not be surprised to see the surround sound display of some serious grunting and sweating and my son soiling yet another spanking new nappy.

My husband will joke that he heads out the door to work each day just to keep his son in new nappies every five minutes. He believes it very likely I’ve joined a secret underground sect of sorts whereby I trade nappies as currency on the black market. The only thing I am on short supply of these days is time so if bartering a box of them will get you that, then perhaps I should look into it…

Seriously, I am creating a diaper deficit on par with that of the meltdown on the US Stock Exchange! It’s as if his salary - and potentially mine as I’ll be returning to the workforce very soon – has been specifically earmarked by the government to boost the global economy through the inordinate oversupply of essential baby bottom hygiene items.

But, a footnote for those who think perhaps I am just being a wee bit fussy. I don’t have anything against changing a nappy full of nasties; in fact, if anything it is quite the opposite! I am totally impervious to poo. I just need to work in sync with my son so that we don’t continue scorching through our supplies at such a meteoric rate!

So, a final thought for me to mull over… Is this a sign of things to come with my precious little one? Will his seemingly champagne tastes translate to eventually only eating off Grandma’s good china, and deigning himself only worthy of being decked out in designer duds? Perhaps I should take heart and think to the future. Surely this will mean toilet training will turn out to be a veritable breeze, by translating this fondness to save “number 2’s” for the more sanitary potty!