Archive for February, 2008

 

Know-it-all-mum

Friday, February 29th, 2008

People don’t see what you’re doing well as what you’re doing well … they see it as what they aren’t doing well enough

Having studied Developmental Psychology, I always had wonderful (so I thought) snippets of useful (so I thought) theoretical information for those friends in maternal crisis. Not being a mum though, I was always knocked back by the just-wait-until-you-have-a-baby-of-your-own-then-you-will-understand! retort to all of my good (so I thought) advice. So, being a veteran of withstanding this comment, it stands to reason that, having had a baby of my own, I would have the practical back-up experience to offer up advice when a friend-in-maternal-need is having a crisis.

With other mums, there is no reason, no logic and no rational thinking in general. You cease to be the know-it-all and become the know-it-all-mum.

Shopping device/alarm

Thursday, February 28th, 2008

I have an idea. I could probably patent it but it’s easier to write about it and let someone else do the hard work.

I had given up so many things to be a mum … shopping wasn’t one of them. But what to do when you have fabrics to stroke and shoes to ogle? With all that ‘ooh’ing and ‘ah’ing, who has a broad enough attention span to fondle a satin pump and make sure their child isn’t going walkabout in the traffic. The ultimate multitasker, I don’t even have that much scope.

The person who invented those mini-alarms attached to every item of clothing is a genius. The person who thought of putting an oversized t-shirt on her child, even more so – when the alarm goes off, the shop assistant gets to deal with the shoplifter … er … child and – ker-ching, ker-ching, a shoe sale is made shortly afterwards.

Lifestyle Choice

Wednesday, February 27th, 2008

Never believe you can have it all ever again. From the moment you have a baby, there will be oh so many more choices to make and none of them involve choosing the best of everything.

Friends are the first to go … the non-parent friends, that is … and then the holidays … the ones that involve a ticket and a backpack and not much else … and the shopping trips that don’t include formula, toys and Steri-nappi.

I chose to keep the heels. Shopping one day for shoes, with a sleeping baby in a pouch on my chest, I tried on a wicked pair of heels and a pair of flats, trying to decide between the two. A ‘sister’ trying on shoes (out of my zone) caught my attention to offer a very unwelcome piece of advice: “You’ve got a small baby now; you’ll break your neck if you wear those heels.” I had deliberated long enough. “I’ll take them,” I said to the shop assistant … “actually I’ll take both, and I’ll wear this pair now”, I said defiantly pointing at the heels. I shot the turncoat a smug look as I strutted out of there, baby still deep asleep on my chest.

I now wear heels more often than I ever did before. There are some things I just can’t compromise on and there are some things that I just need to make a point about.

Humiliation vs. humility?

Tuesday, February 26th, 2008

I have dealt with people stepping over me as I trip on my new Jesus Lopez heels, tumbling into the gutter and spilling my piping hot coffee on my Hermes scarf. I have dealt with people glancing at me over the latest Marian Keyes novel as I hurl my guts out on the London Underground. That’s easy!

But when I am crouching to attend to my child, my general appearance in a state of disarray from lack of sleep … or effort … I falter when the woman, fresh from the SPA flashes a haughty look as she struts on down the road to her next appointment.

L-O-V-E

Monday, February 25th, 2008

I remember falling in love with my husband. I fell slowly and with little awareness of what was happening, and for a long time I denied that I was in fact falling for this man who I had first despised for so long and then shared my bed as a friend for many months after that. But I fell and it was beautiful.

I can’t remember when exactly it happened with my baby, that moment of falling. It could only be that it was the same gradual experience. The falling part takes a long time but the love; well, the love, it lasts forever.

Metamorphosis

Friday, February 22nd, 2008

Money has always provided me with a perfectly good reason to live. So, although I had a very meagre pay cheque, I now had my reason. Perhaps surprisingly, it was when I had finally rediscovered my reason to live that I realised I actually had two reasons to live.

I blinked and missed the moment that made everything change from surviving to enjoying. I had been waiting for this blob to transition into a real person and cannot even pinpoint the exact time when it felt like I had a purpose in being there for him.

For love or money

Thursday, February 21st, 2008

I sat in the interview and my eyes glazed over. I had so much caffeine coursing through my veins there was hardly any room for blood, but there was no way to kick-start a brain that was overflowing with nappies, routine, food, milk and the desperate need for sleep. I had forgotten how to think of anything else, let alone string a sentence together in a coherent business-like manner.

After the third interview, I began to think that perhaps it was self-sabotage … perhaps I actually really wanted to stay home with my baby, on some deep subconscious level I hadn’t quite accessed yet. But then I interviewed for a job I really wanted, was totally stunned when I was offered it and started two weeks later.

The love was lacking and I needed the money.

Galleries in Paris

Monday, February 18th, 2008

If you have a baby and you don’t want that to get in the way of a good holiday, go to Europe where they are tolerated in even the trendiest restaurants and even woken up by friendly restaurant staff and fellow patrons … usually when you have just got them to sleep in their prams … people want them around. And if you are into a cultural trip to see great art, Paris is the place to be on even the busiest long weekend with the most popular masterpieces on show.

It seemed too easy – taking a 7-month-old baby on holiday to London and Paris had images of crying in queues, restaurants, planes and trains. People still claim I’m just one of those lucky mums with an easy child. I can’t claim to not have had luck, as I can’t claim to know what it would be like any other way. What I can claim is that, even if there had been an element of luck involved, it also had a lot to do with dedication, perseverance and tenacity (and that’s baby and me).

To digress slightly, there was an issue with dummy sucking as opposed to thumb sucking. My baby started sucking his thumb as soon as he could get it to his mouth (around 6 weeks) and I switched his thumb for a dummy every time due to the nattering of concerned friends and relatives. Once I realised that dummy sucking involved getting up in the night to replace the dummy every time it fell out (spiral staircase one unfortunate obstacle), I withheld the dummy until my baby learnt to either go to sleep without it or use his thumb or blanket (this involved only two sleep times worth of crying to sort out). But, back to the story …

I booked a flight to coincide as closely as possible with my baby’s sleep routine. Because he had a blanket (several actually but all pretty similar) that he was attached to at sleep time and because he sucked his thumb, he knew it was sleep time as soon as I gave him his blanket and promptly started sucking his thumb … to coincide with take off (and middle ear neutralising!) He then slept all night until the lights went on in the cabin, by which time he (as well as all passengers in close proximity) was well rested.

To digress again, we ordered a TwinArc Travel Cot by LittleLife online, which we had posted to where we were staying in London. This is the most lightweight travel cot you can buy and, therefore, does not reduce your luggage allowance by too much. And, while I’m on the topic of luggage, the pram does not get counted towards your allowance because you push your baby in it all the way to the plane where it gets put in the hold last minute (and not weighed in).

Because baby was following The Routine, there was no issue with putting the cot in our room as he was used to going to sleep at certain times and was not even unsettled by the different environment because we prepared him (never underestimate how much a non-speaking baby can understand) and never made a fuss about putting him in his travel cot to sleep. This gave us free reign to go out when we wanted to and because we were shopping and sightseeing every day, all we had to do was put the pram in recline mode, throw a blanket over the top to block out some light and, hey presto, baby would fall asleep effortlessly … because he was used to The Routine. There are certainly pros and cons to The Routine and I would never be able to convince someone to follow one unless they were that way inclined from the start … but being free to wander the streets of London and Paris with a perfectly rested baby is certainly one of the pros.

Where the luck came in was visiting galleries and exhibitions in Paris where the queues wrapped around buildings and stretched down streets for what seemed like miles. There was always a kindly guard wandering around, ushering all parents with small children to a special queue, which was immensely shorter. At the Picasso museum we even got a personal guide to show us the easiest route and help us into the private elevators.

If you are more geared for rave holidays in Goa and Ibiza, The Routine probably isn’t for you because what parent wants their baby to go to sleep at 7 p.m. and wake up at 7 a.m. when they only get to bed around 7 a.m. themselves?

Plus one

Friday, February 15th, 2008

So, there I am, sitting in semi-darkness, with my baby attached to my left breast. Again! I had tried using this time to do breathing exercises. I had tried using this time to rest. I had tried using this time to make up fantasy stories for him. I had tried using this time to sing. The problems with the above were: (a) it’s hard to meditate or rest when you are obsessed with knowing the exact time your baby is feeding from each breast; (b) without the rest, I could only think up one story before I hit the bottom of the barrel; and (c) I can’t sing.

I’ve always been good at math though and that part of my brain was still remarkably in tact. From three weeks old, my baby had the entire times table recited to him four times a day.

Baby OM, The Economist and Pavlov

Thursday, February 14th, 2008

My child now asks for Om Pady Hom … which, in case you still have post-baby jelly brain … is really Om Mani Padme Hom and is a Buddhist chant. To calm him through his crying fits – whether from the reflux, the sleep training, or my total lack of ability to be anywhere near him – I would either play the CD of chants (the very ones that calmed my nerves on many death-defying bus journeys through India) or chant to him in my very own off-key tone. It is a coincidence that he was trained like Pavlov’s dog but he now has his own chant and it is a relief to everyone that there is something that calms him instantly.

I chose reading to him, above the ubiquitous kid-friendly DVDs, which I couldn’t bring myself to watch let alone inflict them on my child. I only had one children’s book in the house at the time – Mr Happy (a gift I had bought my husband when we were in London and he was miserable) – so, when I was thoroughly sick of reading that, I turned to my subscription of the Economist and let him drift to sleep over the latest news of global economies and banking scandal. Turns out, it usually sent me into a deep, much-needed slumber too. Another Pavlov victory: he loves listening to me read to him and can sit still for hours while I read anything I have with me at the time.

Slop

Wednesday, February 13th, 2008

You unfortunately can’t give your child fillet steak and truffle sauce from day one. You also can’t be sure of the flavours your baby will enjoy … you have to get all the flavours and food groups in and everything comes in the form of slop. When you are giving the baby something that looks so frightful, you can feel free to experiment with all kinds of disgusting sounding combinations because, chances are, you will stumble upon something that baby truly likes while getting all the nutrients in. My baby liked the following combinations:

Mashed banana and avocado
Mashed chickpeas and banana
Mashed lentils and sieved pears
Cooked apples and chickpeas
Pureed rice with potato flour cheese sauce

They sound dreadful and who knows how I came up with them, but they worked and I managed in this way to keep him off meat, wheat and sugar for an entire year.

Murder One

Tuesday, February 12th, 2008

Add to The Rules, a baby monitor and a spiral staircase between parents and baby … The parents can hear every murmur, cry and scream in stereo, but the staircase and The Rules keep them in bed … it can just be too much effort getting up and down those stairs each time the baby cries when The Rules forbid any comfort or feeding – if you can’t touch the baby, why bother. So, the parents just lie in bed, stiff and helpless … not getting any sleep anyway.

The baby soon gets The Routine but the parents get so sleep deprived that a jury could quite possibly acquit them of murder.

Sleep Deprived

Monday, February 11th, 2008

A term always used when referring to new parents … but almost never when referring to the new baby. It is usually common for the baby to get all the sleep it requires. Unless, that is, you think Gina is the Rabbi and you are prepared to do whatever it takes for your baby to fall into The Routine.

You don’t let the new baby sleep in your room, let alone in your bed; you never allow the baby to sleep when the Fridge Rules clearly state it is playtime, and you never rock the baby to sleep … ever.

The Rules are very clear on the need to keep the baby awake for two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon for playtime. What they are not clear on is that the Rules are specifically in place to help parents with babies who don’t like to sleep. And what they should be especially clear on is that the parent should not distress if baby would rather sleep for 24 hours a day than lie on its play mat and look interested.

I woke him when he was sleeping. I tried to play with him while he was sleeping. I talked and sang at the top of my voice to try and prevent him from sleeping. I tried everything in my power to keep him awake when The Rules dictated. I deprived my baby of sleep. And then I complained of being sleep deprived myself.

A Message in a Bottle

Wednesday, February 6th, 2008

Or rather, a message about a bottle … a bottle of cold pressed sesame seed oil.

I was too stubborn to do the baby-bathing test before I left the hospital. I was totally unprepared for how minuscule baby would be and the thought of trying to wash him in a bath of water while supporting him from head to toe was more than I could comprehend (on top of all the other stuff I couldn’t quite comprehend).

There’s a solution: a sturdy changing table with a comfy changing mat; a plastic bowl; a few facecloths; a baby massage book and a bottle of cold pressed organic sesame oil (there are other oils that can be used but this was the most lightweight I could find). At bath time, the naked baby is wrapped in a towel on the changing mat while you work on each part of the body separately, massaging the oil into baby’s skin (and even the head). Once complete, you use a facecloth and a basin of perfectly warm water to wipe baby down before drying gently and dressing.

This is not only a way around the cumbersome process of bathing, it is also better for baby’s skin – sorting out skin rashes and cradle cap, amongst other things – the massage is great for baby’s body, and it is an incredible bonding experience. While I hate to differentiate between the functions of mum and dad (mainly because it is usually a gross generalisation more than anything else and my husband proved to be a better mother than I was at times), it is a fact that there are men out there terrified of caring for their babies. This massage method brings an easy caring experience to dads as well, and at the right time of day too.

An addendum to a tree

Wednesday, February 6th, 2008

I planted a tree. I thought I was offsetting my carbon footprint in a helpful way. I have subsequently read, however, that unless you plant a tree where a tree really belongs – the Rainforests – you can actually be at risk of contributing to the Inconvenient Truth.

I am no expert on global warming but if you have already planted that tree, it is probably even more harmful to cut it down.