Tremble

Tremble. quiver.
outside again. dynamic but frozen.
Inside. grotesque fire.
Muffled and muted.
tremble. shake.
taciturn or exile?
fixed to the wall. webbed.
tremble.

It's not you, it's me. No, wait - It's YOU!

Okay, so yesterday I was convinced I was pissing off everyone around me & my view of the world was a bit wobbly.  I just saw a picture on one of those 'cute puppy' emails you only get from religious types & there was fig leaf over one of the puppy's genitals.  Seriously? Do we really need to sensor dog doodles??  Will I develop some kind of fetish if I see too much dog crotch?  Should I be draping my own dogs in covers (now lets start a debate on cloth Vs disposable for dogs)?  Maybe I should put them in a wee doggy burqa, just to be safe.  I mean... they have 8 nipples each, there's some real risk there.  When does the madness stop?

Yep, just a short burst today.

Jumping on toes

If there's one thing I'm good at, it's getting my opinion across. I do it all the time to friends, family, and unsuspecting strangers. I'm thinking it's getting old. I think I spend too much fucking time having an opinion that's too fucking big for it's boots.

Tonight, I posted about my latest antics on Facebook and can't help but notice that even people I thought were on the same page aren't. There's clearly something askew here. It must be with me. I get carried away with myself, even with best intentions. I mean, I don't know it's me & my strong positions about particular subjects (however I know the subjects themselves cause enough contention) but I'm assuming so. No one has said anything specific. No friends have had a quiet word on my madness. It's just a vibe. A subtle mention here, a subtext there. If I were as half the person I like to think I was, I'd ask straight up.

But I'm not. I'm pretty fragile when I'm left alone with my own thoughts. So that's where I sound my retreat. I'm stepping back from a few things, and refocussing on more tangible things in my world. I'll be back when I can.

PS. My son is walking now. 15 months to the day.

Status games

Let's all 'raise awareness' for miscarriage and still birth. To do this DON'T put any thing related to it on you status update. In fact, put some thing totally random like 'orange octopus' but you CANNOT tell anyone, especially blokes, why. It's much more effective to maintain the social taboo of discussing the hard facts. And whatever you do, don't offer any tangible support for families that have lost a baby in utero. They'd much prefer you play games on social media, leaving them to suffer in silence. 

Awesome! Let's keep up the childish games & culture of pretending to help while actually being a careless arsehole. 

The truth is out there. It just won't be blogged.

Blogging.  You can say whatever the hell you like.  I could tell you I bought a new car yesterday & altruistically donated it to a family in need.  You'd be thinking I was pius wanker absorbed in my own sanctimony.  Or you'd rightly think I was a liar.  I didn't do that at all, and nor would I.  I'm not that generous.

One the other hand, a blogger can lie by omission.  Yesterday, I might have run down 4 kittens & 7 ducklings, but I'm not going to tell you or you might judge me poorly.  That's acceptable, I suppose - in the context of kitten killing.  BUT what if your blog is about kittens & how much you fucking love them, and how you are possible the worlds best dressed kitten carer, and how caring for kittens changed your life?  THAT, my friends, is where I declare shenanigans.

Okay, that analogy went a little too far from my original planned destination, but you get my drift.  If you blog about food: write up your fails.  We want to know what doesn't work as much as we want to know what does.  I'm not saying blog every mundane cheese sandwich you ate in your day, or that you critique every cup of tea that passed your lips (incidentally, my husband threw out a cup of tea I made today.  We'd run out of milk, so I used cream.  He's a big girl & didn't like it), but a bit of honesty wouldn't go astray.

I, for instance, think I suck as a parent.  I try to do things that engage us both, but in the end, my son watches an awful lot of TV.  He's going to start speaking Spanish soon.  But I'm happy to tell you I'm at the end of my tether many days of the week.  I run out of things to do to keep us sane, and the shit starts to hit the fan.  Broadly speaking, those days are usually following an extremely crappy night.  I do admit to an element of jovial cheering-myself-on & even pretending things aren't as bad as they are.  I can't imagine where we'd be if I didn't use my warped version of 'positive thought'.  But I'll admit it.  Only a few short days after loving life & feeling renewed, I was balled up on the couch sobbing like a child.  Pity Party @ my place, and I'm the only one invited. 

In all that, I would like to think that I'm not posing or pretending to be better than I am.  Some people describe that behaviour of pretence as 'trolling'.  It's not.  It's called: being a cunt. (yes, I kiss my baby with that mouth.  My mum is convinced he said 'fuck' tonight, so I'm already not winning any awards)  It's also immature.  So is balling up on the couch & sobbing, but at least I admit it.  There's truth in that.

I've kind of drifted from whatever point I was trying make.  A common theme, I think.  I'm blogging my life - as poorly thought out as any of it is, it is more or less reflected here. Good bits. Bad bits.  Worse bits.  I'll try to give you as much as I can muster, when I can actually get to the computer to type it.  If I'm absent, it's a kazillion times more likely that I can't get to the blog than I'm off doing something super awesome.

And in the theme of the post (actually, it's not as I've completely lost any plot lines in 6 short paragraphs) here is a list of fun & shitty things I did today.
Fun:
finger painted with the my son
planted beetroot seedlings and parsnip seeds
kissed my husband
watched my son walk 6 steps!
watched my son 'walk' on his knees
found some awesome sewing/craft blogs

Shitty:
left the packet of unused seeds open when I put the sprinkler on the new garden bed
saw the vet about my horse - she needs a cancer cut from her eye
got very little sleep, and suspected hearing loss from screaming baby (night weaning is going well, in case you wondered...)
didn't cook dinner (fuck me... it's 10pm & I haven't had dinner!)
swore a lot.

Mahalo nui loa for such a lovely day!

And I thought yesterday was beautiful.  Today takes the crown.

Yesterday, I woke up to wonderful news.  But it's not my story to tell.  No, I'm not pregnant. But something that lifted my heart was the reaction this pebble-in-the-pond created.  I love ripples.  It made one person's good day turn into a good day for 5 other people, who in-turn would have passed on the sublime vibes to everyone they interacted with that day.

Combine that with a spectacular cool & sunny day.  Kalgoorlie can be amazing when it's not too hot, not too cold & one manages to mentally block-out the remoteness.  Jack & I went back to the garden centre & bought 'potted colour' (poppies!!!) for under $2 a pot.  Bring that shit on.  I love poppies.  We also invested in our own metal chicken.  Sure, it's no Beyoncé - the 5 foot wonder-chook, but she's a politely understated 2ft apricot chook that I'm calling Lucy Liu. 

And last night, Jack saw the stars! It was the first time he's looked up at night with a clear sky & he was in tear-jerking wonder. I sang 'Twinkle Twinkle' to him while he pointed at just about every one. It was lovely.


And for today: I'm having a fucking awesome day!  Jack & I have been listening to Jazz while planting up the garden.  He's been having a great time trying to empty all the dirt out the beds (then putting some token handfuls back in).  I planted my fern garden, moved my pineapple sage bush to hopefully a better spot for it, dug up some grass, filled in a hole by the shed, and planted some coriander.

Then we hung out some washing, had a relaxing boobie feed under the veranda (listening to Frank Sinatra) while watching the trees sway in the breeze on a beautiful blue sky day, and then we showered together (Jack had been pantsless in the garden & his bum was covered in dirt!), and I just put Jack to bed.  I think he'll have some good dreams. :)

And my dogs are ruining the mood by letting off emission that can only be described as 'gas poos', and I'm wondering if I should call the EPA.  Thanks dogs.

Edited to add:
That ripple from yesterday?  Turned into a fucking tsunami today.  But the good kind of tsunami, not the shit kind.  Over night, the ripples magnified & today they swamped everyone all over again.  I could bob around in this feeling forever.

I've spent a long time feeling on the edge of the world.  Today has stripped me of horrors of the past year & I am feeling raw and new.  And happy.  Fucking happy.

Night Weaning

As the title say, I'm attempting to wean my 14 month of son from breastfeeding over a 7 hour block at night.  Reading that back to myself, I sound terribly pessimistic & lacking in confidence.  That would probably be from the fact my son is just like his father: if he could never take his face out of a set of boobs, he'd be one happy kid.

But the fault isn't entirely Jack's.  I have my own part to play.  I find night feeding exhausting, but convenient.  I was never able to learn any other ways of settling my baby, and if I'm honest, I never wanted to.  Breast feeding a baby to sleep is so natural and so right on even a hormonal level (breastfeeding releases 'sleepy' hormones into the baby), but more so on a nurturing level.  But at some stage, it wears a little thin on a modern woman.

So, why night wean at all?  Firstly, I'm exhausted.  Jack wakes about every 1-2 hours at this stage.  He hasn't always been like this.  He used to be quite a good sleeper, waking only two to three times.  And for 5 exceptional nights in November 2010, he slept all night.  Not the 5 hour stint 'sleep through' definition they use in sleep studies (more on that later!), but the full monty.  The details are hazy now, but it was at least 9 hours.  Five nights.  That's all I got.  Since then, it has been getting progressively worse.  So yeah, I'm a bit bloody tired.

The second reason is that we're hoping to start IVF again for baby v2.0.  But I need to have Jack weaned, 100% for around a month.  Actually, not even that long.  Basically, wean, then start on the next cycle.  But I think I can get away with 2 feeds a day.  I think the milk will start to taste a bit funny when I start hormone treatment.  I'd hate for Jack to grow boobs again.  I say again, because when he was about 6 days old, I felt a bit of a boob on him.  It's fairly common for the all hormones in early breastfeeding to transfer to the newborn & for them (boy or girl) to grow a small boob or two.  Needless to say, I FREAKED.  But Dr Google set me straight, for a change.

So IVF needs total weaning.  I'm starting with nights because they seem the most superfluous.  I suspect his frequent snacking at night may be a contributing factor to him scarcely eating solids.  He's lucky to eat half a cup of food, some days - and that's only if I break bits off what I'm eating & feed him like a bird (okay... not quite like a bird. I don't vomit pre-chewed & swallowed food into his mouth).  So, here's hoping, if I can sort out nights, he might eat more in the day, & then want to naturally wean.  Maybe.  Crossing fingers.

I've read through a whole bunch of advice on weaning.  Rule 1) no cold turkey.  Well, duh.  Can you say, 'mastitis'? Not to mention a whole 14 month relationship of love & trust gone down the gurgler.  Rule 2) offer water or solids before breast.  LOL.  You clearly haven't met my baby.  He'll sip water into his mouth, then open his mouth & let it all run onto the floor to play with later.  And solids... well, it's any one's guess as to what he wants to eat this week.  For a while, yogurt was his staple food.  And another time, it was cheese.  This week: NFI.  I've never seen anyone less interested in food.  He'll always have a go at spaghetti, but I don't want to wear out it's novelty by serving it every meal.  I'm sure there was a whole bunch of other rules... they all blend into the background.  So if day weaning is a mystery - how are you going to do it at night?!

Enter Dr Jay Gordon.  An American pediatrician that doesn't think Tizzy Hall is pin-up girl (yuck - I just retched on that & I wrote it).  He's written an interesting article on changing sleep patterns in co-sleeping, breastfed babies.  How refreshing!  Not only that, but it actually makes an ounce of sense, and is seemingly achievable.  Here's the page: Sleep, Changing Patterns In The Family Bed.

To fit my husband's roster of 4 days, 4 nights, 4 off, I adjusted the schedule he's offered.  Tonight is night 4 of the first stage.  How is it going?  Well, Jack seems to be sleeping slightly better.  He usually does 2hr stints until I bring him back to my bed.  Then the milkbar opens, in his mind. I have been managing to put him back awake-ish (except last night, where I fell asleep for an unknown interval).  But what does that mean anyway???  Awake.  Eyes open? Nope.  Moderately awake of himself? Possibly.  Cries & protests for a short time before giving up & going back to sleep? Sometimes.  Rolls over himself & snuggles back into me? yes.  But is that what Dr Jay means by 'awake'?  Did I skim over the definition somewhere in desperation to get the actual instructions on how to get a 3 hour sleep for the first time in a long long time?  Please leave a comment if you know the actual answer, or something close to it.

mins up to an hour.  I think Jack, unless he's choosing to surprise me, will be closer to, or further, than 1 hour.  Coincidentally, my husband's boss has asked him to change crews... starting tomorrow night.  He's doing 4 extra night shifts.  I'm weaning Jack.  Alone.  Hmm... I can see who has the rough end of the stick here.

The third part of the weaning is so far away, I can't even see it.  I read it, but I'm to tired to recall it, and it's so far off into the sunset, I'm not re-reading it now.

So... Night weaning... it continues.  Wish me luck!

Oh, and I started a new blog.  Ambitious, I know.  Two blogs on the go.  But as long as the TV keeps providing such value-adding baby-sitting, I will persist.
House Of Nom Food Blog