Starting school

Since this isn't actually a running blog but in fact a blog of my life, we're going to break with the running posts for a moment so I can make a record of my big girl starting school last week.

I think I've mentioned here before that she was extremely excited and extremely ready.

The reality is, of course, often different from the expectation, and she has found it hard. Just about every morning for the past week and a half she's told me that she doesn't want to go to school. The night before her first day she told me she had changed her mind and didn't want to start school until next year, actually.

We've talked a lot about how it's normal and natural to feel nervous and scared, that everyone no matter how confident they seem, feels that way when doing something new. I reminded her how scared she was starting kindy and look at her now!

She's not a person who loves change (who does, I suppose?) and school is a huge change from the very free atmosphere of the kindy she was lucky enough to attend.

It hadn't been all struggle at school though. I asked her last week if she'd met anyone new at school. "I've made dozens of friends," came the reply. She loves reading her readers, and getting stickers on her bucket (the school's rewards system).

She's been dying to learn to read, and seeing it start to click for her is as exciting for me as it is for her. I'm not so bothered by the learning though, that will come one way or another. I don't care if she learns nothing this year except to love learning, and to love school.

After all, she's only got thirteen years left to go.

Sleep: the light at the end of the tunnel

I guess you could call this a further follow-up to this post and this post.

It was sometime last year that then-18 month old A started sleeping in our bed.  She'd been sick, and it was cold, and we'd bring her into our bed to warm her up/get her back to sleep, before transferring her back to her cot.  The problem was we were so bloody sleep deprived and exhausted, B kept falling asleep before transferring her back to her room.  So then she started to resist going back.  And then one night she screamed such blue bloody murder that she spent the whole night in our bed.

I remember it well.  I also cried that night, cried hard at the fact that her sleep problems seemed to be getting worse, not better.  From waking ten or more times a night, to now sleeping in our bed.  I felt desperate and hopeless.  I had never wanted to share my bed with my kids.  I didn't care what anyone else thought, this was something about which I cared deeply.  I had failed myself.  It was the lowest low.

It went on for months with me seething with resentment.  We talked about getting her back into her own bed.  We took the side off the cot and bought a spare mattress for one of us to sleep on the floor beside her.  She wasn't into it.  Hey, I got it.  Our bed is lovely: big and warm and soft.  I didn't want to leave it either.

We then bought a single bed, got rid of the cot, and moved the single bed into J's room so they could share.  I'd heard from numerous people that sharing a room was the solution to their kids' sleeping issues.  Poor J was so excited to have her little sister share her room... except, of course, A wasn't into it.  She flatly refused to even get in the bed.  J was inconsolable.  Occasionally we could put her in there for a nap if she was very tired.  But that was it.

Meanwhile, she was snuggled between us every night.

She was sleeping through the night, every night.  We all were.  She slept with her little hand on B's shoulder, or with her warm little back resting against mine.  It was... nice.  If she needed us in the middle of the night, we were right there.  We were all getting the most amount of sleep we'd had in the previous two years.  No one was terribly motivated to address the "problem".

And that's when I stopped thinking if it as a problem.  She wanted/needed to be near us in the night.  It was only a problem if we decided it was.  It was all a matter of perspective.  It wouldn't be forever.  It was clear that we both liked having her in there.  Who cared?

Well, as with any parenting choice, apparently a LOT of people did care.  People on whom this had no impact whatsoever made their judgement very clear.  Much as you try not to, of course we took some of it onboard.  That was the hardest part of the whole business, dealing with other people's opinions.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, A suddenly asked to go to bed in her bed, in J's room.  While internally popping the champagne, we tried to remain cool and casual on the surface.  It had been a year since she'd even looked at that bed.  We had no expectations.  She hopped in, snuggled down and grabbed her cuddly lamb.  Everything looked promising.

J, however, was not pleased.  Can you believe it??  Having been inconsolable when A had refused to sleep in her room, now she was inconsolable at the idea that A was sleeping there.  I mean, pass the wine.

So then, as if we had not already played enough musical furniture, we got a trundle bed for A's old room.  I made it up with pretty new sheets, and we waited.  A week or so ago, she started climbing in there at bedtime for a story.  We'd turn out the light and she would toss and turn for a bit while I sat on the armchair nearby, before she'd eventually ask to climb into our bed.  This went on every night.  She was really trying to sleep in her own bed.

Then, last night, exhausted after a day at kindy, we went through the usual routine.  She tossed around for a bit and then fell asleep.  I hardly believed it.

I heard her whimpering once just after I went to bed, went to check on her and she was out of bed.  I helped her back in, half-expecting her to request my bed, but that was it.  Next was her calling out at 6am this morning.

But guess who was sad last night going to bed with no warm little body sleepily cuddling up to me?

After all my turmoil back then about her coming into our bed, now I'm kind of wishing that this isn't the end, yet.

Back to normal

After having a very relaxing time over Christmas and New Year, I woke up last week with a steely glint in my eye and a fire in my belly.  I washed and vacuumed and mowed.  I packed away the Christmas decorations.  I ruthlessly culled my wardrobe of clothes I no longer wear or which no longer fit (thanks The Bod!).  I weeded all the garden beds.  It felt great to be so productive and to get the place in shape after taking a holiday from (most) responsibilities for a couple of weeks.



Christmas feels like months ago already.  We spent the morning at my sister-in-law's place for an amazing brunch, then to B's dad's in the afternoon for a swim and a barbeque.  We brought the girls home for their bedtime and then B went back for a few beers with his brother who was over from Australia.

Between Christmas and New Year we went up to the bach a couple of times.  It's only an hour's drive away which makes it easy to come and go.  B's mum babysat the girls so we could go to the bach for New Year's Eve unfettered.  We even made it to 2am!  I can't remember the last time I stayed up that late, ever.  We were up early on new year's day to get back home and it's safe to say I wasn't feeling my best.  The first day of the year was a struggle to say the least, especially with two little girls who weren't going to let us out of their sight in case we snuck out on them again.



Speaking of New Year's, I can't decide if I'm a resolutions person or not.  Generally if I want to change something I wouldn't wait for the new year to do it.  That said, the good habits I picked up doing The Bod program have slipped a bit.  I'm drinking way too much coke, I'm eating a lot of pasta and fast food.  I'm still eating a good amount of vegetables, because at the moment the fastest food is that right outside my door.  However, the diet could use some improvement.  Some days, the only fluids I have are coffee, coke, and wine.  I know.



So!

We are tentatively planning to include Meat-Free Monday (or, any day) every week, and I'm aiming to drain my 750ml water bottle at least once a day.  My mum told that if you drink the majority of your water before lunch you won't be up all night going to the loo, so my aim is A Litre by Lunch.  Catchy!

Another resolution, if you want to call it that, is to attack my to-do list.  One thing that bullet journalling taught me last year is that I am quite happy to just keep writing the same tasks on my list every week without ever ticking them off.  But then I feel constantly irritated and can't relax looking at all the things that need doing.  So.  Just do the things.  Tick them off.  Move on.

The thing that will make the ticking off of the list easier is that, as I've mentioned about eleventy billion times already, A starts kindy this year.  Regular solid blocks of time, kid-free.  Obviously there'll be a touch of Real Housewives watching, but I'm really looking forward to some major time to get jobs done.

It's been seriously dry here for the last few weeks, not too hot thank goodness, but hardly any rain.  The paddocks are looks as dry as I've ever seen them.  The grass has almost stopped growing!  Well, not quite.  The lawns still need mowing twice a week.  Bring on winter I say.

We're still trying to address A's, and to a lesser extent, J's fussy eating.  Since B has been off work during December we've been having the occasional family dinner and I know I've said it before, but it really makes a difference to how the girls eat.  The other night we had burgers which I was fully expecting to be rejected, only for them both to dig in with enthusiasm.  Who knew!  It shows me how much I worry about their eating when they do eat without fuss and I feel so happy and relieved.  It's so good to make progress, however small.

As you may recall, A turned two in September and oh boy do we know about it.  J never really threw tantrums.  We never really had the terrible twos or the threenager with her.  Luckily, A is making up for everything that J spared us.  The fury inside that pudgy little body has to be seen to be believed.  The will of steel.  I'm a pretty stubborn person with a pretty strong will of my own and I am no match for this kid.  B and I have both been heard to say "Just give her what she wants!" to make the screaming stop.  Another one of those things I never thought I would do as a parent.  But hey.  You do what you gotta do.

One thing I want to note here is that it's now over a year since J commenced toilet training.  It's only now that she has returned to wearing undies fulltime.  It's taken a full year.  I don't know why.  We waited until she was ready.  She led the process, with our support.  I never made a big deal about anything, that I can think of.  And yet time and again she has insisted on wearing nappies, for months at a time.  She'd stay dry in her nappy all day, pulling it down to use the toilet, and yet would refuse to wear undies.  One of the very few times when we've seen her exert her will.

She turns four in February.  She's in undies now but I won't be at all surprised if we go back to nappies again.  I've tried to ask her why she prefers nappies but of course she can't articulate whatever it is.  She's nowhere near being dry at night.  I dunno.  Just one of those things I guess.

Well I'd better go tackle the lawns again before it (hopefully...) rains!  Hope you have all had a lovely Christmas and New Year and feeling positive for the year ahead.

The next stage

We sold A's cot last week.

We sold it mainly because she is - yep - still sleeping in our bed (judge away!), but also because if she ever returns to her own bed, she doesn't need a cot anymore.  She'll be sleeping in a big girl bed.

So that's that.  There is no cot in our house anymore and I don't expect there ever will be again.  I remember writing not that long ago of all the parenting milestones I couldn't wait to pass.  This was definitely one of them.

On that note, I took the pram out of my car a couple of months ago to fit something else in and I never got around to putting it back.  It hasn't mattered.  We don't need the pram anymore either.  That was another milestone that seemed so far in the future.



We recently went for an overnight stay to B's dad's bach (holiday house) up the coast.  It was great.  The kids ran around on the beach picking up shells and splashing in the shallows.  Back at the house they played with their toys and read their books.  They ate fish and chips and sandwiches and fruit.  It was easy and fun.  Last time we stayed overnight at the bach was six months ago and it was hell.  A grizzled constantly, she wouldn't put her feet on the sand or the grass or in the water, she wanted to be carried the whole time, and I couldn't wait to get home.  That's behind us now too.

There might be a place for A at kindy in a few weeks.  Oh how I have dreamed of that day.  And, of course, now that it's imminent, I feel suddenly unsure and unready.  I know she'll be fine and she'll love it, but it's such a change.  She's almost never spent time in anyone's care except mine.



When we lived in Perth and B worked FIFO (fly in, fly out) I had dear Nanny P who took J a couple of times a week from when J was only about five months old, so the jump to daycare and then kindy never felt so momentous.  Not to mention that by the time J started daycare in Perth I already had five-month-old A, so it's not like I dropped J off and then had the day to myself anyway.

Then - due to the move to NZ combined with other factors - we never arranged daycare or a babysitter for A, so kindy will be her and my first real separation.  It's weird.  It's going to be great, obviously.  But I'm still a tangle of emotions at the thought of it.



It's just...   I didn't get a lot of joy from parenting poor A for a long time.  She was so miserable.  Everything was a struggle, for her and therefore for me - food, sleep, her mobility issues.  In the end none of it was very serious for which I'm so thankful but that doesn't make it any less hard when you're in the midst of it and it feels endless.  Now we're out the other side without me even noticing and into the next stage, which I have to tell you, seems to be a whole heap of fun.



The other way I know how much things have changed is that I've been reading- make that devouring - books again.  I don't think I've read a book since before A was born.  I'm back!!



Speaking of which, in my apparently never-ending quest for new hobbies, I've started learning to play the ukelele.  Pretty random, I know.  But I'd heard it was quite easy to learn, and of course it's such a fun and portable instrument.  I can already play piano and read music so I thought I might be ahead of the game but I can now confirm that the piano has nothing in common with a stringed instrument.  Oh my poor fingers.

I'm having a lot of fun though and, as is my way, have commenced a 30-day Learn the Ukulele challenge.  Look, I'm not actually expecting to become proficient in thirty days.  But each day's lesson is a management bite-sized chunk of skills so that even after a week I can see major improvement.  Some lessons I skip through quickly and some I take several days to master.

The teacher I'm using is on YouTube and she does great tutorials and her lessons are free, yes: free: Bernadette Teaches Music.

Check out this ham!  As I said to a friend, it's the Matterhorn of hams.

B's dad raises pigs which means we get an endless supply of pork.  It's probably the best pork you'll ever eat but it's still... pork.  Meh.  Until we had the brilliant idea to have our last beast turned into mince, ham, and bacon!  I know.  Genius.  The butcher cured the ham for us and then it was up to me to bake it.  It turned out ok, not amazing, but luckily I have many more opportunities to perfect the art.

The vegetable garden is in full swing of prep and planting.  We're trying to be way more organised and methodical this year.  I even drew a diagram of the garden so we could map out where to plant everything.  I know.  So professional.  So far we have kale (for the chooks), lettuces, zucchini, squash, rocket, tomatoes, corn, various onions, spinach, various beans and peas.  Oh and strawberries.  And the ubiquitous rhubarb and herbs.  I'm feeling optimistic for bumper crops.

I haven't baked a loaf of sourdough for a few weeks but I can turn out a decent loaf fairly reliably.  They're still a bit flat and dense but they do have that lovely sourdough taste and chew.  After an unenthusiastic start even J is now a huge fan.  A, not so much.  Shocking, I know.

My 12-week fitness challenge ends this week.  Safe to say I fell off the wagon somewhat with the exercise, but my eating habits have changed significantly for the better.  I'm a few kilos down and have shed some major centimetres.  I didn't take measurements but my clothes tell me everything I need to know. 

Although I didn't exactly finish strong, the challenge gave me the motivation and support I needed to make some positive changes.  I still highly recommend it, although be warned the recipes are CRAP.  The program I did was The Bod.  I participated in a "Restart", which basically means that everyone everywhere starts the program at the same time, but you can buy it and start it anytime you like.  I'll definitely be referring back to the exercise program if I feel like I need another boot up the bum.

I'm trying to think what else I need to catch up on...

I made a flying visit home to Adelaide a few weeks ago.  I was only there for three days but got my fill of family time and ate and drank myself stupid.  Cried my eyes out flying out over the Adelaide Hills.  This visit was incredibly brief but even if I was there a month it would never be long enough.  I adore NZ but it is bloody hard sometimes being away from my family.

Spring is here although we're having a bit of a cold snap at the moment.  I'm really trying not to light the fire but the past few mornings have been cold so it's still in use occasionally.  You can tell I took this photo below a while ago because that tree is now covered in new leaves, and so the cycle starts again.  

I love the seasons here. 

Can you believe two years ago we were still living in Perth without even a moving date set??  It feels like we've been here forever already.

Follow-up to babies who do not sleep: lessons in control and surrender

It was about a year ago that I wrote this post, pouring out my exhausted heart on the topic of my non-sleeping child.

It’s weird reading it now and remembering how sleep deprived I was, how I was just barely hanging on.  How panicked and desperate I would feel in the hours before bedtime, wishing that that would be the night she’d have a good sleep, finally, so I could too, and yet knowing that she wouldn’t.

Having already had a good sleeper in J was both a blessing and a curse.

The blessing of having a good sleeper in the other room was that I knew that A’s sleep was not my fault.  Mine to fix, yes, but not caused by me.  We did everything the same with both girls.  Some kids sleep, some don’t.

The curse of it though was that - despite knowing it wasn't my fault - I still felt compelled to try and “fix” A’s sleeping.  I needed to find the cause, the problem, and resolve it.  Then everything would be fine.  I knew, from J, that babies can sleep deeply and consistently every single night.  So I kept trying to solve The Problem. 

It took a long time - a REALLY long time - for me to just accept it and surrender to it.  There was/is no Problem.  This is just how she sleeps.

After that, everything changed.

Well, ok.  Nothing actually changed.  Her sleep is still inconsistent to this day.  She still wakes, although nowhere near as much.  She still sometimes spends hours awake in the middle of the night for no apparent reason.

What has changed, though, is my attitude.  I no longer obsess.  Well, I'm still me.  I do still obsess sometimes.  But what I don't do anymore is try to get to the root of The Problem, or wonder if we should wean her off the dummy, or do controlled crying again, or what.



It helps that the wakings are far fewer these days, or that I now have a group of friends here in NZ, several of whom also have non-sleepers.

Turning one year old helped.  Learning to walk helped.

The passage of time helped.

She has now slept through the night plenty of times.  That's the exception rather than the rule, though.  When she wakes I give her a bottle.  I could try to wean her off that but I just.do.not.care.  She often comes into our bed.  We're all getting the most sleep we've had since she was born and that's the main thing.



What I have had to forgive myself for is who I am in the middle of the night.  It is not a good side of me.  When she has a bad night, I'm furious.  An Exocet missile just looking for someone on whom to unleash.  At her, at B, at the world because I just want to go to sleep.  I snap and snarl, and sometimes I cry.  It all feels so much bigger and so much worse at 3am (or 4am, or 5am...).

Once she's finally back asleep I'll lie awake and torture myself with guilt and shame over the way I treated her, the things I said under my breath, the anger and resentment that always seems to be right there under the surface.  The dark feelings caused by so many sleepless nights.

It has been a very hard road.  So many tears I have shed from exhaustion.  Feeling ashamed of her not sleeping when her peers have long since put those broken nights behind them.  Feeling almost hysterical with desperation for a solid night’s sleep.

Just barely hanging on.

I always try to look on the bright side, but this has been something that has been tremendously difficult with very little upside.  If anything, the upside for me has been what I have learned to succumb to as a parent.  Relinquishing control, in all kind of ways - not just sleep.  I never realised how many things I was giving myself a hard time about for not being perfect.  Or things about life with small kids that I was still resistant to.  Ideas I had held onto from before I'd had kids about the kind of parent I would be.  There’s so much I’ve let go of.

I've also been able to really look around and see how many others are dealing with the same thing.  Maybe it's not normal, but it is common.

It's only the end of the world if you decide that it is.

And maybe that's what it comes down to.  There are so many things in life that you can't change.  Family who push your buttons, a job, or a partner who can't or won't give you want you want.  A child who doesn't sleep.  You cannot change them.  But you can change how you respond to them.  Maybe that's the thing I needed to learn.

Or, maybe, I'm just really really sleep deprived.

Being ambitious... or not

I was thinking the other day (yup, here I go again...) about ambitions.  Or lack thereof, as the case may be.

I often sometimes feel dissatisfied with what mothering small children offers me day to day, but I'm mostly very content with what I'm doing right now.

I don't have big dreams of greatness for myself.  I never have.

Evidence of Mum! Photo courtesy of my dad a couple of weeks ago at J's kindy

My parents raised me to believe that I can do and be anything I want.  I went to a fairly prestigious girls' school where it was assumed that you would be a) graduating in the top whatever percent of the state and b) going to an equally prestigious university.  I didn't know what I wanted to be, unlike the future doctors and lawyers in my year, so I did whichever subjects appealed to me at the time.  My uni entrance score didn't get me in anywhere.

I worked in a supermarket for a while.  Worked in my dad's office.  Did some conveyancing which in a very roundabout way got me into the oil and gas industry.  Which, as an aside, is also how my life suddenly and wonderfully changed direction and how I met B... but that's a story for another time.

When I finally landed in oil and gas, I loved I mean really loved my work.

I was even sent to a... symposium? conference? seminar? whatever it's called for up and comers in the gas industry.  The problem once I got there was that I realised I knew nothing about the pertinent issues facing the industry at that time.  I had no opinion, nor even any basic knowledge, on the potential carbon tax - sorry price - to be introduced.  I had no engineering degree, or any degree.  I didn't even really understand how my industry worked.

I came home and thought hard about actually trying to catch up academically.  To take the next step.  But really.  Doing an Engineering degree part time for ten years?  I'm hopeless at maths.  I hate studying.  I just really loved my job.

Eventually it dawned on me that I loved doing what I was already doing.  I didn't want to become a manager or an engineer or climb to the top of the corporate tree.  It was just ingrained in me that you keep striving towards the next goal, that next step.  But actually I wanted to type, answer the phone, manage diaries and travel, and format documents.  It's what I was good at and what I loved doing.  Why do anything else?

No next step.  Just do my best at my job, which was nothing grand but which I adored.

And, now that I'm a full time parent, I'm not in any rush to return to the workforce.  Obviously we're really lucky that I have the choice whether to work or not.  But I'm not feeling like, man I wish my kids would grow up so I can get back on that career ladder/start that business/conquer that dream.

I, uh, have no dreams...?

I've never had a life plan or even a five year plan.  I had no idea that I would end up here.  I have no idea where I'll be in the future (although I really hope I'm still here).

I'm very content.  When my kids are older and more independent I can see myself quite happily doing more of the same.  Baking.  Knitting.  Gardening.

I'm not old-fashioned at all, I would very passionately define myself as a feminist, and yet here I am feeling extremely fulfilled in the old-fashioned role of housewife (not that I would ever call myself that).  In this day and age it can be hard to admit that you don't actually want to do anything else.  To not be ambitious.  I guess the thing is choice.  At least we have the choice.

You go conquer that corporate world if you want.  And I'll sit by the fire knitting if I want.