These last few weeks have prevented me from being a blogger of any nature, even a very bad one, in fact, I haven't been one at all.
My eldest has been diagnosed with glue ear, which therefore explains her almost total loss of hearing and my need to shout everything at her like a banshee. People look at me even more weirdly when they hear me repeat myself for the fifth time and then lose it and shout like I am telling my poor child off. It's like Japanese water torture, I say something, which is often met with a "why" and then I try to answer the why and every time I speak she says "whadyousaaaay". The same child has also been out of action with a sick bug which she kindly passed on to me!
The youngest seems to remain fairly constant throughout, tank like in constitution.
The dog has pulled a ligament in his shoulder requiring 5 days rest, which sounds lovely, but really just means there's yet another small thing hanging round my feet to trip me over, usually in the kitchen where the only landing zone is either a boiling pan or a sharp object. It makes me happy to be blessed with such good fortune.
However, whilst all of this patheticness has been going on, I still can't help but notice those parents who are struggling admirably with their latest addition or indeed their first taste of hellish babydom. For example, the other day I saw a woman collecting her first child from nursery with her very new number two. He was in the cocoon on the bottom of the dreaded Phil and Ted's, perhaps that's why the ladies day seemed to be going so wrong. Anyhoo, the little bundle started screaming blue murder, real, real distress, as only new and nearly new borns can manage. His face was bright red and he was FURIOUS. Everyone was willing him to be silent as well as trying to placate him before Mummy got back. Sure enough, Mummy got back with big sister and the little boy was still creating. I'd imagined that the mother would take him straight off the deputy head who was trying to rock and coo him out of it, but NO, she did nothing of the sort, she merely looked at the screaming bundle sighed and rolled her eyes. Everyone, surely, everyone knows that feeling? That feeling when enough has already happened and yet it's still going on interminably. When there is nothing more left in you to give, when you would give anything to be whisked away to some lovely time past before children existed, when silence seemed monotonous, not enviable, when neat and tidy was an option not a virtual impossibility and when time was something that ticked on, not a luxurious commodity.
The thing is, how can you help? How can you reach out to someone and let them know that it is alright, all this will probably pass and there is a light at the end of the tunnel, without sounding like a meddlesome know it all? I look back on those times and remember how I felt and how I was, and wish that someone had done that to me, but then, perhaps I would have thought that they were being interfering or telling me that I was ACTUALLY as useless as I felt? I wish, that people were more honest about children, I hope to be if and when it comes up with my girls, and I try to be when people ask me. You have to fill out form after form after form, sit through interviews and red tape rigmarole a plenty to adopt, yet ANYONE can have a baby, why is that? Surely babies should have some mental health warning attached? Awareness of the veritas that is children should be made more clear so that we aren't carpet bombed when our first baby arrives.
I wish it was OK to let people know that children as they are is so not what you were signing up for. But, however, just so you know, I believe that it is OK to let people know when you are struggling and any parent worth their weight in nappies will surely ally with you and let you know that they too have had similar situations or are experiencing similar things as you talk. If you're having a hard time of it now, my heart goes out to you. But it's normal and totally OK for you to feel like you can't, you can, really, it just takes time?
My eldest has been diagnosed with glue ear, which therefore explains her almost total loss of hearing and my need to shout everything at her like a banshee. People look at me even more weirdly when they hear me repeat myself for the fifth time and then lose it and shout like I am telling my poor child off. It's like Japanese water torture, I say something, which is often met with a "why" and then I try to answer the why and every time I speak she says "whadyousaaaay". The same child has also been out of action with a sick bug which she kindly passed on to me!
The youngest seems to remain fairly constant throughout, tank like in constitution.
The dog has pulled a ligament in his shoulder requiring 5 days rest, which sounds lovely, but really just means there's yet another small thing hanging round my feet to trip me over, usually in the kitchen where the only landing zone is either a boiling pan or a sharp object. It makes me happy to be blessed with such good fortune.
However, whilst all of this patheticness has been going on, I still can't help but notice those parents who are struggling admirably with their latest addition or indeed their first taste of hellish babydom. For example, the other day I saw a woman collecting her first child from nursery with her very new number two. He was in the cocoon on the bottom of the dreaded Phil and Ted's, perhaps that's why the ladies day seemed to be going so wrong. Anyhoo, the little bundle started screaming blue murder, real, real distress, as only new and nearly new borns can manage. His face was bright red and he was FURIOUS. Everyone was willing him to be silent as well as trying to placate him before Mummy got back. Sure enough, Mummy got back with big sister and the little boy was still creating. I'd imagined that the mother would take him straight off the deputy head who was trying to rock and coo him out of it, but NO, she did nothing of the sort, she merely looked at the screaming bundle sighed and rolled her eyes. Everyone, surely, everyone knows that feeling? That feeling when enough has already happened and yet it's still going on interminably. When there is nothing more left in you to give, when you would give anything to be whisked away to some lovely time past before children existed, when silence seemed monotonous, not enviable, when neat and tidy was an option not a virtual impossibility and when time was something that ticked on, not a luxurious commodity.
The thing is, how can you help? How can you reach out to someone and let them know that it is alright, all this will probably pass and there is a light at the end of the tunnel, without sounding like a meddlesome know it all? I look back on those times and remember how I felt and how I was, and wish that someone had done that to me, but then, perhaps I would have thought that they were being interfering or telling me that I was ACTUALLY as useless as I felt? I wish, that people were more honest about children, I hope to be if and when it comes up with my girls, and I try to be when people ask me. You have to fill out form after form after form, sit through interviews and red tape rigmarole a plenty to adopt, yet ANYONE can have a baby, why is that? Surely babies should have some mental health warning attached? Awareness of the veritas that is children should be made more clear so that we aren't carpet bombed when our first baby arrives.
I wish it was OK to let people know that children as they are is so not what you were signing up for. But, however, just so you know, I believe that it is OK to let people know when you are struggling and any parent worth their weight in nappies will surely ally with you and let you know that they too have had similar situations or are experiencing similar things as you talk. If you're having a hard time of it now, my heart goes out to you. But it's normal and totally OK for you to feel like you can't, you can, really, it just takes time?
