It's in the genes!

As a teenage girl, I don't think I was all that bad. And by that statement, I mean I never drank or experimented with drugs, or had wild boyfriends or anything. I'm sure I was still a bit of a nightmare for my mother, arguing and answering back. I remember my exasperated Mum telling me many times, "You always have to have the last word!" (Also, I'm pretty sure my husband is nodding fervently in agreement.) Now here I am, ten years later, with three children who share my DNA. Yes, uh-oh!

I am now working with my five year old son on "answering back". Of course, to a small child, what does that mean? He looked at me blankly, and said very sincerely,"Why not?" I could picture what was going on in his head- questions are for answering, but if you answer then it's rude...? I think I have educated him now and he understands that the correct answer is something like "Yes Mummy, right away Mummy." Now I just have to remind him about eight times a day.

Then there are other situations when he doesn't understand the socially accepted 'rules' about manners and speaking to people. Like "Mummy, go away." Corrected to "Mummy, go away PLEASE." Ah. Much better.

My three and a half year old daughter has a similar tendency. She must have overheard me reading to her brother about different animal families, e.g. crustaceans, molluscs. She pulled out The Lion King book for me to read to her and said,"What family is this?" I paused for a second and said,"Well, animals that are a bit the same are in the same family. Animals that can lay eggs are in the same animal family. Lions and tigers and cats and..." as she held the book up to me and interrupted with "Read now." So patient, that one.

What hope is there for number three? Her favourite word is 'no'. And not just 'no', more like 'NONONONONONONONONOOOOOOO!" which roughly translates into, Touch my stuff and I will beat you with it.

Luckily they do have a few redeeming qualities. I do quite like the way that my 18 month old is quick to comfort and cuddle her crying siblings, even if the reason they are crying is because she belted them in the face with a drink bottle. And the way that my three and a half year old brings out dummies and toys to share with her little sister. And especially the way my five year old takes every opportunity to compliment his sisters ("You look beauuuuutiful, Isabel!")

All in all they're pretty good :)

"Hello, sexy!"

Over the last year or so, since Jack has started attending school, he has come home with some choice phrases. "YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND ANYMORE!!" is often used when as parents we stand by any rule, typically followed by "You're not coming to my birthday party!!" (Fine, have fun at this 'party' of yours...)

Then there are some less common ones, like "What the HACK???" (Admittedly, it could be worse.) And the most recent. "Mummy, Dylan says to me 'Hello, sexy' and it's soooo funny!" Jack mentioned this as the whole family was in the car, driving Daddy to work. Dave and I exchanged glances, both of us clearly unsure how (or if?) to proceed. I wasn't sure if this was something that should be discussed, or simply better ignored, after all he is only four.

Jack said it again,"Hello, sexy!" and exploded into fits of laughter.

So I said,"Jack, do you know what 'sexy' means?"

"No."

"Do you think you should say 'sexy' if you don't know what it means?"

And then the obvious moment I walked right into.

"What does sexy mean?"

I caught Dave's eye again, this time I'm pretty sure my eyes were saying HELP ME, but of course there was absolute silence from his side of the car.

"Sexy is something for adults. So you don't need to worry about it now."

Now imagine more silence, and more worried facial expressions at Dave.

And that was it! So now, I don't know that I actually accomplished what I intended, and I don't know what exactly I intended to accomplish, and I don't know if this will come up again. And if it does, I still don't have a better answer. My best answer is "I'll tell you when you're older!"

And if all else fails, there are still two other kids.

Guess how much Jack loves me...

A few days ago, Jack told me, "I love you Mummy. But I love Daddy more than you.”

Well, of COURSE you do. Daddy walks through the door in the evening, ready to play with you, while Mummy collapses on the kitchen floor, somewhere between the bin and Isabel’s most recent pair of wet pants.

This comes after he told me I’m the second most beautiful Mummy. Apparently I rank just after the mother from “Cloudy with a chance of meatballs”. And yes, you are right, she is not alive for the majority of the movie.

What is it about craving your child’s love? Jack has always been my cuddly child, while funnily enough, my girls are the ones who squeal and resist when I try to give them a kiss or a hug.

A day or two after this, Jack, Isabel, Sophia and I were all bouncing on the trampoline together, tumbling all around and laughing together. Jack wrapped his arms around me tightly and said,”Mummy, I love you so much. I love you more than Daddy.” Ohhhh. (Light-bulb!) So it just depends on the day, does it? How reassuring.

He also told me that he loved me “all the way to Saturn!”

It was all I could do not to say, “I love you all the way to Uranus!”

My little girl

After a few rather serious posts, I thought it was time to share some joy. And, while being a parent is challenging and sometimes frustrating, through my children I have been able to experience the highest highs. So here's a few thoughts about Isabel.

My bright, beautiful, affectionate little girl is a natural nurturer. Aside from trying to breast feed her baby sister (at age 2) she loves babies and animals. She is often found carrying a bag full of her favourite animals or treasures.

Isabel's favourite pastimes are bouncing on the trampoline, being tickled, playing with her animals, playing dress ups and playing the face licking game she and Jack invented for long car rides. But more than anything else, she LOVES going to the beach. We call her our little “Ocean girl”. She is fearless as she catches the waves in from Daddy's back, with her small arms around his neck. It is impossible to keep from smiling when I hear her infectious little laugh.

Isabel's favourite foods include chocolate, biscuits, multiple cheese singles from Grandma's fridge, endless cups of milk or juice, and generally anything on the top shelf of the pantry that requires a chair. Also, add to the list anything anyone else is eating, even if she has the same thing on her plate. Poppy's breakfast tastes better than Isabel's breakfast.

Isabel's idol is, as far as I can tell, Rapunzel. She wears a "Rapunzel dress", carries around a frying pan and gives inanimate objects character names, like Pascal, and a fitball, named Maximus.

Isabel's playlist would feature: "The Only Exception" (Only ip-ception song) Paramore, "Supermassive black hole" Muse, "Too much" Sufjan Stevens, "Rockabye your bear" The Wiggles, "Friends" Band of Skulls. Seems pretty well-rounded to me.

When I ask her to do something that she doesn’t want to do she responds with, “But Heavenly Father doesn’t like me to do that.” God trumps Mummy. Nice try, Isabel!

When I stop to enjoy these moments with Isabel, and all of my children, my role as their mother seems much more meaningful.

What went down when I called Nena and Pasadena....

So, let's get up to speed. Nena and Pasadena clothing has released several offensive t-shirts with semi naked women in provocative poses, including topless. (Refer to my previous post for more information.) Several people that I know have have made complaints, either directly to Nena and Pasadena, to the Advertising Standards Bureau, or to the stores that choose to stock this clothing. My sister in law Kylie received the following response from Nena and Pasadena.

Thanks for your comments and views but we feel we know what young people want to wear so we choose to continue our design concepts in full. I have three teenage boys of my own and have discussed your email with them, they were humored by your thoughts and added that the 6 o'clock news contained far more adult contact than a tshirt!! If you feel that we degrade women or promote violence against women please further your emails to the editor of the herald sun.

Kind Regards

Tim Arandt.

This response was unsatisfying to me, as it didn't actually address anything we mentioned in our letters. Tim also left a mobile phone number, so today I called it and had a chat to him. We had a pleasant enough conversation, well, debate. I will summarize what his argument was.

• There are plenty of other companies making similar soft porn t-shirts.
• There is a market for the shirts- teenagers want to buy them.
• They do not believe in censorship of any kind.
• They are acting within the bounds of the law.
• They actually already removed some of the worst offending shirts, including those with drug references, suicidal references, and some kind of machine gun shirt.
• Kids already see porn everywhere.
• The shirts are not aimed at children (as consumers).
• It should be up to parents to decide what they will allow their kids to wear- and he also thinks the shirts are distasteful and would not let his teenage sons wear them.

Some fair points. I also shared some additional ideas.

While there may be other companies doing it, and regardless if there are teenagers who will pay for them, these images are distasteful and offensive, and as a corporation they should act responsibly- and pornographic, sexist images and slogans are not that.

As for the freedom of speech/censorship issue (which always comes up)- he said "I don't believe in censorship." I agreed education and discussion is important, especially for young people who need to learn to think critically for themselves. And I don't think teenagers are stupid, but I do think they are bombarded by a hyper-sexualised culture and become desensitised.

I asked him if he did not believe in censorship, would he think it was appropriate to put racist slogans on a t-shirt. He said if someone chooses to wear a shirt with the word 'Nigger' across it, he should be free to. (Question: Then am I free to smack said person?) While I agreed that people should be free to wear what they choose, I pointed out that by designing and manufacturing these shirts, they are not just allowing people to choose to wear offensive clothing, but providing the offensive clothing for those stupid enough to wear them. There is a difference there.

I quote Melinda Tankard Reist, author and activist for women's issues, "Free speech shouldn't mean hate speech. Free speech should be fair speech."

I agree that kids do see soft porn all the time. The public sphere is covered in it. This is damaging to their natural development. Children when faced with adult, sexual material do not have the emotional maturity to process it and make accurate judgments about it as an adult might. It gives them false ideas about what it means to be a man, or a woman and qualities that are considered the most valuable i.e. being hot, thin and sexy. They should be free not to have this material imposed on them, as should I, and anyone else who chooses not to participate in viewing pornography.

AND- the fact that kids are already exposed to pornography doesn't make it okay to manufacture pornographic t-shirts too. I can choose not to allow my children to watch video hits, and control their internet use (as they become older) but a t-shirt is a walking billboard. Regardless of the age group these shirts are intended for, they are t-shirts! I have seen many of them as I am out and about, just as children will as young men wear them out in public. I can not choose to not see them, my choice has been taken away.

I agreed with him that to a large extent parents are responsible for what they allow their children to wear/watch etc, and I do prevent my children from watching or seeing certain inappropriate material. But I'm not that naive, when my kids are teenagers, who are they going to want to listen to? Their friends, or their Mummy? Especially when a lot of things (like stylish clothing) is specifically marketed to them as desirable, cool, and necessary to show off their identity? Plus, once again...they are t-shirts! If I want to keep them from seeing a t-shirt someone is wearing, I will have to lock them away in a tower or something. (Yes, I just watched Tangled.) And what about the kids whose parents aren't so vigilant?

The fact that he acknowledges the t-shirts are distasteful and he would not let his own children wear them indicates pretty clearly to me that the shirts are offensive, but the fact that they would still defend their right to sell products like this also clearly indicates they are profitable!

That awkward moment when your child calls your bluff

Hi there! I'm back from my holiday, settling into my new place slowly, and ready to blog some more. The kids are getting used to the new house, the backyard seems much more interesting and they have new, exciting bedrooms to destroy (I give them about 8 days.)

Moving house really disrupted their routine, as it tends to do when all of your things are in a box, and you suddenly live in a different town. Jack and Isabel have shared a room for maybe a year, and never been fantastic at going to sleep at night from toddlerhood up, but in a fresh house, they seem to have renewed energy levels for playing up at nighttime. In the past, we locked their doors with an extension cord- but then I kept needing to use an extension cord for things, so we progressed to a door lock fashioned out of some of Dave's old ties. This way, they can't come out of their room and eventually seem to give up and go to sleep.

In our new house, though, we have no tie-lock, unless I put it in a special box for weapons- to -use- on- children when we were packing, and haven't found it yet. So every five minutes, either Dave or myself bursts into their room with the usual "What's going on!? Back to bed. Blah blah. Random threat." After doing this for awhile, you quickly begin to realize if you have to go in every five minutes, what you are doing is not effective! Smacking bottoms- not working. Threats to take toys away for a whole day- not imminent, therefore not working. I'm tired and my brain is fried...I ran out of ideas. But then...

I burst into their room. (Using 'stern' voice...)"If I catch either of you out of bed or calling out AGAIN, you will go and sleep in the shed. Do you understand!??" They look at me with wide eyes and say "Yes Mummy," and I leave the room, satisfied that surely this time I have gotten through to them.

About 2 minutes later, almost on cue, it starts up again. Right! "Time to go to the shed." Jack panics. "No I'll be good! I'll stay in my bed!" and pulls his blanket up protectively. I reach out for Isabel and she quietly and compliantly takes my hand and follows me. "I like sleeping in the shed," she assures me," cos I'm brave."

Aww, crap.

I keep leading her to outside. "You know it's very dark in the shed".

"Yeah."

"And you'll be all by yourself."

"Yeah."

I know, here I am helping my child develop a phobia of the shed. Gold star for Mummy.

So I just keep marching her to the shed, pretending I, and not my three year old daughter, am in control. I will not lose to a three year old. I refuse. Must....save...face...

We get to the shed and I open it up. I look around and wonder what I actually expected her to do in there. Oh well, keep acting, can't show weakness. "Lie down,"I instruct her, and she obediently lies down on the concrete. I can't believe how pathetic this is. "Good night." I walk out the door leaving it open, and go back inside to sit down with my husband who has just witnessed my embarrassment. And now I wait.

Luckily for me, within a few minutes, Isabel returns and announces she is ready to stay in her bed, giving me an out. (YES!) So keeping up the stern facade, I escort her back to her bed.

And you know what? They both went to sleep without any more trouble. Dave thinks this is pure coincidence. I have no comment.

My kids aren't crazy at ALL

Isabel, preparing for winter, and also sunshine.

Thoughts from an intelligent mind

If my husband is walking behind me and doesn't reach for my butt, he must be deep in thought.

When baby is in front of the computer moving itunes files to the trash and I say, "No!" she will scrunch up her face and cry.

Those cadbury chocolates- Furry Friends- that come in a 5 pack are perfect for my family of five. One for everyone, except baby, and two for me. Outstanding.

Caitlin's clever counsel regarding the purchasing and wearing of granny panties

(Seeing as how I am an expert on the subject....)

This piece of underwear can get you through unfortunate bloating phases during the month, those post-ice cream binge mornings, and many other fun events where you would prefer not being asked "how far along" you are. (I am an expert on all of the above.) From my experience, it can also get you through the first decade after having children...yes, my oldest is four.

Tip #1. Granny panties, or as I fondly call them, "sucky-inny undies", cos that's what they do, need to be made of binding material. This is a given.

Tip #2. They need to go a lot higher up your torso than regular undies, just a few cm below your bra.. If they are made of a binding material but only go a few cm higher than regular undies, you will get the tell tale bulge that says "I tried to hide my bulge and I failed". Been there.

Tip #3. Be aware of clothing choices that may reveal granny panties, e.g. should you bend over and your shirt rides up at the back. This is a rather embarrassing wardrobe malfunction.

Tip #4. For toilet breaks, I recommend press studs down there. That, or a disabled toilet with a LOT of space for wriggling, and preferably no audience.

Tip #5. While we are on the subject of press studs, you may feel more secure wearing some tiny undies underneath, for the occasions where you make a sudden move, actually make that any move, and you hear "Pop Pop Pop" and realize it is more breezy at this wedding/work function/church service than you had anticipated.

That is all.

Why are we depressed?

Living in the 21st century, our lives are very different to generations of the past. We have so many modern conveniences and luxuries that in many ways our lives could be considered easier now. We live in comfortable homes and have limitless options available to us. So why is it that so many of us are taking antidepressant medication?

I am a young woman who has found myself in a similar circumstance. I am very blessed to have a wonderful loving husband and three beautiful, if not insane, children. So why have I been depressed?

I have started reading a very interesting book called The Depression Cure, by Stephen S Ilardi. He is a professor of clinical psychology at the University of Kansas and has treated many patients for depression using what he refers to as TLC (Therapeutic Lifestyle Change). I find the more I read of this book, the more I am nodding in agreeance at his logical advice.

Dr/Professor Ilardi makes the following point-that while the risk of depression is increasing in western countries, depression occurs significantly less in developing countries, and that among the Amish, and in some tribes who still live a hunter-gatherer type lifestyle, depression is almost non-existent. He attributes this to the fact that the human body was not designed to live the sedentary, fast paced lifestyle we have become accustomed to now, and that the way that humans used to live before industrialisation was an 'antidepressant' lifestyle. It included the six factors he discusses in his book as helping to cure depression.

This made perfect sense to me. Think about the way we live now, driving everywhere and watching TV, sitting in front of computers, and having access to junk food all the time. Or, in circumstances where husbands and wives are both required to work to achieve financial stability. If you were living in a tribe, you would be on your feet walking around looking for food to hunt to keep you alive. We wouldn't spend so much time alone, and isolated from each other by technology.

The six elements Ilardi referred to are:

- Dietary omega 3 fatty acids (very important in brain structure and function, eaten in abundance by former generations, and significantly less by us)
-Engaging activity
- Physical exercise (consider a modern sedentary lifestyle and compare it to hunter/gatherer lifestyle)
-Sunlight exposure
-Social support
-Sleep

Think about it- if you are a very new mother, for example, chances are you won't be involved in much of any of these. Time for cooking nutritious meals and exercise and sleep is out of your control often enough. And I know there have definitely been some days earlier this year after I had my third child I would realise I literally had not walked outside, even to the letterbox, in days. Combine that with little sleep and nothing to do apart from child care duties, of course I was going to lose it!

Exercise is what saves me. On weekday mornings, I go to the gym around 530 in the morning and lift weights or run. It completely lifts my mood and energises me for the rest of the day.

I would definitely recommend this book to anybody, whether they have struggled with depression, or want to prevent it....or really, anyone!

The joy of puking for 9 months

I was recently pondering the possibility that I could be pregnant with baby #4. Me feelings could be summed up as follows: AAAAARGHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Fortunately for myself (and everyone who has to live with me) that was not the case.

I do hope to have another baby one day, but not for a couple of years when I don't already have three pre-school age children, and hopefully when we are rich enough to experiment with possible cures for morning sickness, e.g. acupuncture, expensive anti-nausea medication, or a nanny....a surrogate...at the very least, sufficient funds to cover my daily requirements of hot chips.
(This was our plan for the last two- to have a little more money, and that didn't happen, so, fingers crossed for next time!!)

I am waffling. My point is, as I contemplated the world crashing down around me, having three kids destroying the house for the next nine months while I lie on the couch in the foetal position, or with my head over the toilet, crying about how miserable pregnancy is and how incredibly annoyed I am that I have to pay for food I will no doubt vomit up anyway, I remembered last time I was faced this this situation.

I lived in Perth and had literally just finished becoming a qualified personal trainer, maybe a week or two before. I was pretty sure almost immediately that I was pregnant and was merely waiting it out until I could actually check. I was doing a bunch of errands at Joondalup shopping centre and I was pushing around a trolley with Jack and Isabel playing and screaming and crying and jumping in and out, all frazzled and dishevelled, and we entered the pharmacy where I found a pregnancy test. I remember the overwhelming embarrassment I felt walking to the front counter as people turned to look at all the racket coming from my kids while I attempted to threaten or distract them, and then placing the box on the counter while I deliberately avoided the saleslady's gaze. Ohhhhh the humiliation. Young out of control mum with psycho kids buying a pregnancy test, don't you just feel sympathy hearing about it? It's like, Oh, the crazy cat lady is getting another cat, cool.

At some point I took the test, it was positive, and i don't even remember any of this or telling my husband or anything, you see this is how frequently I get knocked up, I can't even separate different pregnancies any more! We also moved two hours away to a smaller town (city? It feels like a small town) halfway through the pregnancy so that wasn't all that much fun. I got huge, like with the other pregnancies, so I was very used to questions about if I had my dates right, and was I sure it wasn't twins. My favourite was at the gym, this guy said to me,"Not long to go now, huh?" I was three and a half months pregnant. SIX months left. At the end of my pregnancy, I recall someone walking past me saying WOW.

Now I have my baby, Sophia Adele. She is almost one now, standing up by herself and trying to walk. Eep! I am absolutely in love with her. I love all my children, of course, but Sophia is still little enough that I am her favourite person, and that feels very, very nice. She smiles and laughs and buries her face in my chest and puts her arms around my neck tightly. Plus she is very cute (says her Mum). But it does make it worth it to go through all the ickiness of pregnancy and then have a beautiful child. LUCKILY.

Day Care vs Mummy

Last night I went to a presentation for the parents of toddlers at our day care centre.They talked about the activities they did with the children and the different stages of development etc. I have to say, I am glad they are doing such a fantastic job with my children (on Fridays) and it looked like all the things they do are a lot of fun. It's nice to know your kids are having a great time while in someone else's care.

I went home and discussed it with my husband, and I felt a twinge of emotion as I admitted to him that I thought the Day Care workers were doing a better job than I actually was. My lovely husband reassured me that I am a great mother, and reminded me of some pertinent facts about the day care workers- that this is a paying job for them, it is from 9-5, and they can go home after and have time out and get a full nights sleep. All valid points, yes, but I still sometimes feel guilty. I feel like I have been eager to be a mother FOREVER, and I assumed I would be a natural the whole job. Now here I am, day after day, wondering- what do I do? Is it my job to entertain them? Or, is it to provide them a safe, entertaining environment? Should I just be playing with them, or encouraging them to play alone? Is it a little bit of everything?And where is the compromise between never-ending housework and errands and never-ending parenting? (And yes, please feel free to share your thoughts and ideas in the comments section, I am not above asking for help!)

Generally each day has a similar routine- each day is broken up by meals, breakfast, morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, bedtime routine. (I use the word routine loosely- it is not set in stone.) Between meals there is kindy, naptime for baby, errands or outings, playtime at home and all the regular housework and cooking. And let's not forget that it's not unheard of from them to be up some time in the morning starting with a 5, and not unusual for me to threaten to, and follow through with, locking their bedroom door with a 'lock' fashioned out of two old BankWest ties at about 9pm.

Today I decided I was going to try to involve the kids in everything that I needed to do. We had our breakfast and we read for a bit, and played a little. Then I decided to cook our dinner in the morning, so I cut up all the vegetables etc so the kids could join in making our quiche for dinner. Then we made brownies together. There was a minor incident with an egg, as Isabel said "It got out." Translation- the 'egg' got out of the eggshell (after she dropped it on the floor). In the afternoon I tried to recruit Isabel to help me vacuum but she lost interest pretty quick. How is it at 2 she has already clicked certain things are chores and therefore not cool anymore....?

I know that I do want to encourage independence in my children, and taking responsibility, which means allowing them to try things, and do things themselves while I supervise and quietly cringe at the mess involved. I could tidy the playroom myself in less than five minutes but I insist on making them pack away their own toys, even though it takes a lot longer and is actually harder work for me, guiding everyone onto their next step. I do think helping them develop these skills will pay off in the long run.

So, I guess today was a success. My house has been vacuumed, dinner is already taken care of, I have spent time with my kids involving them in my activities and also completed all of our errands. But surely success is more than 'the house is vaguely tidy and my errands got done'. I want to enjoy my kids more, and to have more fun with them.

Moments & the facebook status experiment

A few weeks ago my husband suggested I have a tendency to be negative. I responded that while sometimes I complain too much and can be negative, it is not as bad as he makes it out to be. So we did a little experiment. The "Facebook Status Experiment". He pulled out a notepad and a pen, and started to make a tally of how many of my status updates were positive, or negative.

e.g. Friday. "Whenever I leave the room, baby starts the search for me in the kitchen. Hmm..."
My husband says, "Negative." And marks it off.
"What??? That's just me joking around. You just don't get my awesome sense of humour."

Next.
"Public Holiday style big breakfast...Bacon, eggs, fresh fruit, pancakes...om nom nom!"
"Positive." (I should think so!! Mmmm...bacon...)

"Caitlin...is experiencing the difficulties associated with being loved too much! My baby follows me EVERYWHERE, i can never distract her for a minute. I guess she has picked up on my awesomeness!"
"Negative."
"What are you talking about!! That isn't negative! I'm just joking around! You so don't understand my awesomeness!"

From there on, I started skipping updates I thought he would unfairly judge as negative. (Cheating...perhaps.) According to his tally the list came out pretty even. So I am trying to be aware of being overly negative. But give me a break, I have three kids under five, and....yeah that's pretty much it.

So here's to sharing some positivity!

Yesterday was Friday. Friday is the day of the week I most look forward to because my two oldest children go to daycare, and I stay home with baby and try to rest, do errands, catch up on housework and have general Caitlin time. Imagine me and baby standing on the driveway waving bye bye to the rest of the family, and as they drive away, me saying to baby,"PARTY TIME!" and squealing and swirling around excitedly.

Then comes time for my sacred Friday ritual.

I plonk baby in her high chair, fire up the stove top, and sing really loud to music by Bon Jovi ("If you were in theeeese ar-rmmmms"), Beyonce, Wolfmother, Glee cast (anything that is fun to sing really loud) while I make chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast and baby laughs at my moves. Next I eat my yummy pancakes while watching The Office (and I turn it REALLY loud because nobody will stop me). Then I have a long luxurious shower and wash my hair while baby sits in her high chair in the bathroom with me to keep her happy. As soon as she is ready for a morning nap, I put her down, and then collapse into my own bed which is so lovely and cool and comfy and I spread out like a starfish since I don't have to share with anyone. Sighhhh...I sleep until baby wakes up, and generally save any chores until I think uh oh, kids will be home soon! After such a lovely day, I am then feeling awake and revived, and I am delighted to see them, and I love to play with them and hear all about their day.

I am reminded of a quote by M. Russell Ballard that seems applicable to me.
"Recognize that the joy of motherhood comes in moments. There will be hard times and frustrating times. But amid the challenges, there are shining moments of joy and satisfaction."

I think after having a little break, or some time in there to enjoy my baby one on one, as she crawls all over me, laughing and trying to suck on my face, I can be aware of those moments. It's times like these when I am cuddling my baby girl and I know she loves me so very much that I realize I am having one of those moments.

And who can resist that face?

Please, please, please, let me get what I want...sleep!

When you have a new baby, you expect to be up for long periods during the night, and having broken sleep, and being exhausted in general. Then (hopefully) after several months, things get better in the sleep department, and your baby will maybe 'sleep through' and you will get more sleep, even if it is broken sleep.

Many new mums will tell you sleep deprivation is very effective torture. I completely agree. It is amazing how messed up your head can be when you have been days without real sleep, and how logical you can be after catching up. Logical according to my standards, not my husband's, which are very very incredibly high.

I often have found after having a new baby, that I would be surprised at how well I could cope on so little sleep- for a few days. Then I would lose it. Then, I would once again surprise myself at how well I was coping without sleep (except for that meltdown, of course) and I continue doing okay, not as good as normal, of course, but okay, until the next meltdown....and the cycle continues.

I think the reason that between 'episodes' I maintained a vague level of normalcy is because after having a baby you fully expect to get very little sleep, and that you will sleep at any opportunity you can, prioritizing it over housework or cooking. But when I don't have any reason to expect to be sleep deprived, it hits me so much harder.

So fast forward to the present day, and I now have three children. None of them are newborn babies anymore, and they all at one point mastered sleeping through the night, and even at some stages sleeping right through the night, from about 7-7 (woohoo!) So how is it that I get no sleep anymore?

My husband has been away for almost a week, and I am soooooo relieved he comes back early tomorrow morning. With my husband home, there is someone to share kid duty with during the night- and when I say share, taking turns pretending to be asleep and getting elbowed by the other saying, "Your turn!" With my husband away, I have been solely responsible for our kids, who on a typical night wake up twice each. You do the math. So on any given night, I have been up six times. And let's not forget the extra fun stuff, like a teething baby, or a vomiting toddler who refuses to use a bucket and left a trail from one end of the house to the other, oh yeah, and that big one who wets his bed about every second night, sometimes twice in one night.

The alarm goes off and I scrunch up my face and think "Seriously??? Time to wake up? I didn't get any sleep yet!" Then I wake up and see a giant pile of extra washing, covered in vomit and pee and remember all the things I have to do that day before I can go back to bed again that night.

I love my bed. It is my happy place. I have become one of those people who collapses into bed at the end of the day and makes an audible noise, an internal sigh signifying both frustration and relief, like an old person. I have fallen asleep at the movies (like my Mum!!)

Oh yes, and somewhere in there I am supposed to find extra energy for working out, housework, being energetic with my kids and something to stimulate my mind and wake it up from its zombie like state.

I'm so looking forward to my husband coming home! But if he walks in and says "I'm SO tired..." I may just throw one of those children who is still awake at him.

Helping or hurting, kids?!?

I decided when my kids were younger that I was going to train them up to be responsible for packing away their own toys, tidying up after themselves, etc. This is more difficult than you would think! The number of times I could have tidied up a room with toys scattered in less than 2 minutes, and instead have spent ten minutes supervising the kids doing this same job...But I keep telling myself that one day not too far from now, I will be glad I did it. And every now and then, I am pleasantly surprised by Isabel packing away the duplo without even being asked. I think my heart might just burst with pride (almost).

Sometimes they do other "helpful" things, that make me unsure about whether I should tear my hair out or say, "Good job, sweetheart!" Things like Jack deciding to pull out all his clothes and re-organize them (why oh I do I even bother folding?). Or Isabel taking towels out from the linen cupboard to lay them down in puddles outside, as she says to herself, "Cleanin' up da mess..."

Yesterday the kids decided the floor needed a wash. The floor had in fact been mopped two days previously, and was pretty clean. They got sponges out of the sink (one of which appeared to have been soaking in dirty water) and started 'mopping' the floor with them. Imagine lots and lots of drops followed by puddles of dirty water on my nice clean floor. I tried to explain to Jack he needed to wring out the sponge first to get rid of the extra water before cleaning the floor but as 4 year olds often do, he (loudly) voiced his opposing thoughts. So here is Mummy facing a dilemma. Do I still encourage helping, or do I save myself from a big clean-up job? While all this is going on, Isabel was outside quietly scrubbing the bricks with a sponge.

As for cleaning the bathroom, everyone wants to be the one to spray the windex on the mirror, and basically everywhere, regardless if we have already finished. I guess it could be worse. Rather than spraying cleaning product on the bath they could be scribbling on it with crayons- oh wait, they've already done that.

So it seems my whole reason for housework is children. Each time I clean up a particular mess, I have left my kids unsupervised long enough to make another awful mess. Then I go to fix that one, and they make another mess, and so on, and so on...

In the evening my husband comes home and walks into our trashed house, much the same as it looked in the morning when he left. He knows now, though, from experience of the head-biteage variety, that the appropriate response is to smile and say, " The house looks good..."

"I just want to aim for health...once I lose 12 kg."

Yes, I said that. And I said it in all seriousness. Once I have lost enough weight and look perfect, then I'll stop obsessing about my body and my looks and appearance, because then I will such a healthy body image.

Ha!

I remember thinking I was fat in Year 7. I don't know what that was about, but I weighed at most 35 kg, and as a child I was actually this odd looking skinny kid.

Around the time I started high school, there was a whole lot of fuss in the media about "shrinking celebrities". Think Lara Flynn Boyle, Helen Hunt, Jennifer Aniston, Calista Flockhart etc slimming down quite noticeably. The idea was that their bodies were so petite that their figure was like that of a pre-pubescent boy, with their head like a lollipop at the top of a stick. While all this was going on, I was beginning puberty and my body was changing. So it was then that I started to notice different shapes, and decide what was fat, and what was skinny. I am not saying that all the celebrities shown in the media are completely responsible for my unhealthy attitudes towards my body, but I do think it was relevant considering the timing for me.

Since then, I have grown up and taken more control over my body- my eating habits, my exercise regime. I completed a course in personal training that was more for my own interest than a desire to work as a personal trainer. I have had three children in three and a half years, so think...gain lots of weight, slowly lose it, get pregnant again, gain lots of weight, slowly lose it, get pregnant again...you get the idea. Pregnancy, breast feeding and spending my time caring for my children has resulted in a lot of frustration and stress and time spent thinking about my body and what exactly is wrong with it. I would feel so guilty if I missed a work out or ate junk food, and I would let these things weigh me down and ruin my day. I have put so much energy into thinking that my life would be perfect, and I would be perfect, if I could just be skinny. Being skinny= happiness.

Right?

Porn and love heart stamps

So, when I started writing this blog I thought it would be a fun way to blow off some steam about motherhood and have a laugh aboutsome of the strange things my kids get up to. Lately I've been thinking a lot about some bigger things, bigger even than children always coming into my bed, and bigger than weet bix removal.

I have been thinking about all the pornographic images and media we are faced with day after day, and how tired I am having to see it, and having to try and hide it from my children, who are 4, 2.5 and 6 months. I have been getting angry and wondering what I could actually do about it. So, after a lot of research, a lot of thinking, and conversations with anyone willing to listen, I got my first practical advice here. So tonight I wrote some letters. Below is one of them- each of them is much the same, but adapted to the recipient.

Dear Mr Murray,

My husband and I moved to Bunbury almost a year ago. My husband is David, former Manager at the local branch of BankWest. You may remember meeting him briefly. We received a letter from you in May, as our representative in State Parliament, where you said if we wished to express our views on any matter, you would be pleased to hear from us. I would like to take you up on this offer.

As a young mother of three pre-school age children, I have made and will continue to make many efforts to teach them to treat all people with compassion and respect. I want them to be able to reach their potential-for them to become educated, develop their talents and to be moral people. However, I find that by merely taking them out of our house they are exposed to the onslaught of pornographic images and media that I keep from them in my own home. I cannot take them with me into the supermarket, petrol station, newsagency or video store without them being around “soft porn”.

The damaging effects of so-called soft porn are well documented. How can I teach my son to respect women, and my daughters that they are worthy of respect, when the idea that a woman’s purpose for existing is to satisfy mens sexual appetites is normalized and even endorsed by being displayed in supermarkets, easily accessible to anyone who wants to see it (and also to those who do not).

Perhaps you are familiar with this letter below.

"To the Standing Committee of Attorneys-General Censorship Ministers".

I am writing to ask you if you support the suggestions made in this letter, and how you plan to respond. I hope you will give this issue some serious consideration. Please feel free to contact me if you wish to discuss this letter any further.

Kind regards,

Caitlin

8^th July 2010

So that is my letter. I will email where an email address is provided, but I have printed out three similar copies to send to different leaders of parliament. Upon putting them in envelopes I realized the only stamps I have are promotional Valentine's Day themed ones, so my angry letters about evil porn will have pretty swirly love hearts and flowers. But I'm okay with that.

Battle of the bulge

Now that I have children, and my time is no longer my own, my options for exercising are: when the kids are asleep, so basically….never.

Do I sound like I have given up? I haven’t! I am still trying hard. I know the frustration that comes from pausing my cardio workout every 2 minutes to give a baby back her dummy, or to pull my toddlers off each other, or stop them ramming their bikes into the baby’s bassinet. I know how awkward it is to hold an infant in your arms as you sit pedalling madly on a stationary bike (and did I mention ridiculously hot, like clutching a hot water bottle?) I have stayed up late, or gotten up at 5 am in order to have some quiet time to exercise at home, or to go for a run before the kids wake up.

I can also be seen walking with my double pram and a Baby Bjorn sling strapped to my chest doing the kindy run. That’s got to be effective going up hills. And let’s not forget my efforts to do yoga from a DVD at home with a toddler plonked on my lap and then ”riding horsey” as I attempted down dog stance. But I have not given up yet, all this opposition is making me more determined!

Surely all the running around I do will help me lose the baby weight, others suggest. Really, some days I don’t stop and sit down until the afternoon when the kids are having a nap, and even then, sometimes I will still be trying to get some jobs done. I am rushed and sweaty and tired. But on those days, when the kids do actually have a nap, the first thing I want to do is make a mad dash to the fridge. Woohoo! Quiet time! A chance to eat by myself without Isabel hopping up onto the table, fluttering her eyelashes and saying,” Can I like some toooooooo?” Now where is the most chocolatey, fattening, forbidden thing I can find? And if I can’t find anything, then where is the cooking chocolate that will suffice?

So anyway, how is it I haven’t lost the weight yet???

Yummy Mummy? Where?

I have a confession to make.

As I get out and about through the course of my day, I notice women. These women are dressed nicely in fashionable clothing, high heels, with well applied make up, and neat, foiled, GHD styled hair. Chances are they are also toting a fancy looking handbag and some brand name sunglasses. And clearly they work out with those sculpted arms and their tiny waists- or else just have really good genes. When I see these women, I can’t help but turn my head to wistfully stare as they walk past and internally sigh, “That used to be me!”

Okay, to be fair, I was never that perfect. That would be giving myself a little too much credit. I make it sound like I was this glamorous model or something. But at one time, I did actually dress myself nicely, wear make up, and do my hair. I didn’t have all the accessories and my arms were never really sculpted. But the point is, I looked a lot different to the way I do now.

Now when I look in the mirror, I see my mass of wild hair (ever heard of Medusa?) which is usually tied back in an unattractive ball, just to get out of my face. My eyebrows and eyelashes are pale, overdue for a tint. I have dark circles beneath my sunken eyes and no make up on my face. And that’s just my head!

I suppose it is only natural for self -esteem to take a nose dive in these circumstances. Maybe you are wondering what could possibly account for this transformation? In case you haven’t figured it out already, I’ll tell you: Motherhood!

I am doing the most important job in the world, and I believe, the hardest. I am 25 years old raising my three crazy pre-school age children without a whole lot of knowledge on the subject, and this doesn’t leave much time for me, particularly for personal grooming and exercise.

Don’t judge me.