Complainication

I've been thinking, lately, about the way I communicate. That feeling I get when I feel someone really understands me, or the frustration I feel when I'm just not heard.

People are quick to boast "I don't complain", as if it really is something to be proud of. But to me, not complaining means not communicating and nothing good comes from not communicating.

If you go into a shop, and the shop assistant ignores you, treats you poorly or otherwise leaves you feeling pissed - then complain. If you don't, then the situation won't change - they'll treat another customer the same way, oblivious to the mistake they're repeating. When you complainicate, you give them the opportunity to change and you give them space to improve.

The same is true in our personal relationships. If you never complain when your partner leaves their towel on the floor, then they will never understand how much it irritates you, and they'll have no idea why you suddenly go postal after 15 years of it.

A few times recently, I've been reminded how important complainication is: SD and I are both tired, and stressed and worried. But until 2 weeks ago we both carried that stress for ourselves. We both worried about the highs and lows we felt in caring for our little lady, and both felt terrified about what that meant about our own state of mind.

Once we actually started to talk to one another, that fear was shared - shared in both the sense of balancing the load, and in the sense of being "heard".

All to often we carry our fears, complaints and worries alone. We say we're protecting those who care about us from the burden of our worries. We say we're "not complaining" as if that implies we're coping fine.

I disagree - bring on the complaints! Share your worries and fears. Acknowledge that you feel angry, scared, tired or stressed. Tell someone - complainicate. Trust me - you'll feel better when you do.

I want to talk...

baby-lo isn't a baby - before my eyes she's become a togla. ar a toddler. whatev. I should call her "lo" now instead.

a few times in the last week I've been faced with a situation which leaves me thinking. lo is busy learning news things and starting to assert her independence. the things I say and do will establish the ground rules for our interactions, and will really define the way I parent.

it's got me wondering what kind of parent I want to be, what is important to me, and how can super-dad and I ensure we develop consistency in our approach to parenting?

here's some examples:

1. on sunday, bl carefully pushed a stool over to the toybox in front of the tele and used it as a prop to clamber onto the toybox and reach a doll on the top of the tele


2. on monday while visiting a friend, bl was presented with a plate of sliced fruit. she wasn't interested in eating it and so tipped the plate over

so they're totally different instances, but for they've started me thinking about parenting philosophies and encouraging positive behaviour in toglas.

in situation 1, the most important issue is safety. but in some ways I applaud her ingenuity. I don't want to just say "naughty girl" when she's being inventive, not bad. I said "well done - great climbing. mummy doesn't want you so close to the tele though darling - let's put the stool in another room". but I don't want to encourage potentially dangerous climbing.

in situation 2, I was acutely aware we were at someone's house and I really felt like I was on display as a mum. I said "let's keep the food on the plate. if you don't want any, I can put it away". and yet I don't want to become an ineffectual mother who brushes aside delinquent behaviours as all being "cute". having said that, in that instance I don't think bl was being intentionally destructive - so it's not a strict discipline thing either.

lot's of book blurbs I've read talk about discipline which makes me a bit uncomfortable. I think there have to be ways to encourage positive social behaviours while still making clear boundaries. I'm conscious too, that consistency in approach will be crucial.

I worry about the messages children hear when we label them as naughty or nice, good or bad. I feel really uncomfortable when I hear parents talking about their child in negative ways - especially within earshot. I cringe when I hear parents describe children as difficult, high maintenance or highly strung.

praps I'm coming to this later than other mums, almost certainly I'm over thinking it. what do you do to encourage positive behaviours, and how do you respond to inappropriate ones? is there a book or philopsophy or mantra that you follow?

me wait?

I just wanted to get it done, so done it is. now to consider backing and borders and things...

eeep - random?...!

I bravely sliced, sewed and sliced into some old work shirts of SD's. I wanted to trial making a quilt top by machine, and also to trial the disappearing 9 patch quilt.

this is my current layout. I'm going for a grid design, rather than the usual slash/rotate, because I had 5 sets of 3x3, rather than an even number.

any quilt enthusiasts reading: shall I stop playing and call this a day for the layout?

ETA: the fabrics....

it was a day like any other day

sunday dawned, as it does; the day unfolded, as days do.

but this wasn't any ordinary sunday: sunday 26 July 2009 is the day I last nursed baby-Lo.

breastfeeding's been a trial at times. from the early days when baby-Lo struggled to feed because she had a sore neck (osteo fixed that) and "tiny mouth", and I struggled to feed her with cracked nipples and aching breasts.

3 weeks in we'd faced our first 2 bouts of mastitis and a breast abscess. 5 or so more bouts of mastitis, oversupply, nipple thrush, overactive letdown - we had our share of difficult times.

there were plenty of feeds where I cringed, cried, and just wanted it to be over. there were a lot of times I just wanted to make it to the next milestone - 3, 6, 9 months.

by 10 months in we were in a great rhythm - my body was finally making only to meet demand, the engorgement had settled, it was all good.

by 12 months it was going well, and we seemed to have had such a short time of success that I wasn't ready for it to end. we supported one another when times were tough with gentle touches and seemingly boundless patience when it seemed so hard. I for one didn't think we'd make it that far.

we've nursed on planes and in cars; in public but mostly in private.

and we've not done it alone. early on we had the support of a lactation consultant who came to home, I've spoken to ABA counsellors on the phone and in person.

and throughout it all there's been the strong influence of superdad. SD has stood by us (literally and metaphorically) through it all. he's poured water down my throat, propped pillows, delivered a freshly changed sleepy babe to even sleepier mumma. he's always said "you're doing the best job, babe". he's never once questioned why I wanted to keep going, never made a disparaging comment about why we're still feeding.

but the line? I've drawn it in the sand.

baby-Lo's ear infections have settled (thanks grommets!), but her silent reflux is only being managed with a huge dose of meds.

milk exclusion hasn't worked. the next step is a strict elimination diet. a strict diet we both need to adhere to while we're still nursing. it may seem odd that despite pain and pus, and blood and plenty of tears, that it's food that's finally made me call it quits.

it's not quite that simple of course. the prospect of me potentially screwing up a strict elimination diet by accepting a proffered biscuit is not a risk I'm willing to take when it means risking finding an answer for baby-Lo. she needs my help, and I'll be better able to help her without extra mummy guilt making me worry about every mouthful I eat.

I'm so happy we've made it this far - a few days shy of 18 months. a real achievement I never thought we would have.

talismans

this morning, SD and I spent a few hours sorting through some of our... possessions. I'm reluctant to call them that when in truth I mean that we sorted through some of dozens of boxes of our things that we've had stored at SD's folks' place for (I'm ashamed to say) almost 3 years. the earliest boxes honestly date from August 2006 with another batch from October that year, and more still from the December.

you see, in August 2006 we were planning our wedding. we knew our groovy west melbourne pad was not where we wanted to live when we started our family, and so in anticipation of selling up we started to pack. the idea was to minimise in preparation for putting the apartment on the market. October saw more of the same packing, then we were married in November so the boxes of wedding gifts were added to the ever-increasing load at SD's folks' place. you can see where this is going, can't you?

we moved house in August 2007 when we were 4 months pregnant. what didn't fit into our teeny wee home was... added to the storage.

so we have literally dozens of boxes, many of which we've not even opened in 3 years.

it's horrifying.

so I've been thinking a lot lately about how, to me, my possessions (and purchases) are talismans. they represent something to me - and often that something is a memory, or a time in my life, or an aspiration. these dozens of boxes are filled with such symbols.

there's the boxes of books (Kerouac's Satori in Paris that I bought in, you guessed it, Paris; Joyce Johnson's Door Wide Open that I bought when I read loads of books about different characters in the Beats; this book I bought on spec at the Tate Modern - I'd joined for my birthday and the title was irresistible to me). boxes and boxes of books that all mean something and remind me of someplace or sometime special.

there's the boxes of clothes (the exquisite Valentino silk brocade coat I bought at a sample sale - iridescent hues of purple and teal; the dress I wore at my 21st; my wedding gown).

there's the boxes of linens (the chuppah we married under; the hand-printed bedlinen my parents bought us as a wedding gift). and then there's the boxes of wedding gifts (most of which we registered for as we love them - but we just do. not. have. room. for them right now).

there's boxes and boxes of empty wine bottles that we haphazardly displayed atop our kitchen cupboards in our old apartment - each one reminding us of another great evening with friends, or a wedding, or a celebration of some kind.

I have all of these things that are beautiful to me in one way or another, and yet they're shoved in boxes and I don't see them.

I don't think it's appropriate to callously dispose of them (the boxes haven't been opened in 3 years, you say, you don't need them!), I can't bring myself to donate much of it (yet, maybe this will change), and yet it breaks my heart to think I own these beautiful things and don't enjoy them.

I guess part of me had hoped that I would find, today, as I opened boxes that my feelings had changed and that these possessions would have lost some of their significance; that I would be able to let go.

and yet I've found they still hold power over me, they still hold memories (all good - the bad ones are long gone), and so they really are talismans for me still.

a break in transmission

That was a long break in transmission!

From good days, to bad nights, to bad news, to rough trots. I think that about covers it.

Crafting has been low on the agenda as we try to come to some conclusions and decisions about how to approach recurrent ear infections/suspected ongoing silent reflux/night screaming/potential allergies/possible food intolerances.

Are you following? No? I'm confused too.

But finally, finally, we have a plan, man. In no particular order we're going to...

• wean
• postpone gastroscopy and ph probe testing
• stay off dairy for another 2 weeks
• blitz with probiotics & slippery elm
• roll with the nights as they come (with stricter guidelines for ourselves, and greater consistency about how we approach the night waking)
• postpone the strict elimination diet til after we've weaned

Phew. That's it. Onwards and upwards!