I’ve been thinking a lot about a recent post on On Balance which referred to an article by Helen Kirwan-Taylor entitled Sorry, but my children bore me to death. It elicited more than 300 responses, so it obviously hit a nerve for a lot of people. Many of the comments were about what an awful mother the author is to have admitted to being bored by her children.

The article interests me because it says out loud something I’ve long thought: I don’t find children’s parties or children’s games terribly engaging. Sometimes, when I’m doing those things with my children, the truth is, I’d far rather be doing something that interests me, like reading a book, or shopping.

There, I said it. My children often bore me.

I love watching my children experience something for the first time. I love to go to the beach with them and watch them get engrossed in building a sandcastle. I enjoy watching them build a house out of Lego and listening to them create a story around it. I love to see the smile on their faces when they’re doing something they enjoy, like Hannah doing ballet, or James reading a book.

I also relish doing things that don’t involve them. Like reading a well-written work of fiction, or the latest research on child psychology, or women’s reproductive health. I love my job and the scope it gives me to get involved in and research things like archiving, digitization and information technology. I love shopping, or having a long lunch with friends. I love listening to good music or a thought-provoking sermon and watching good movies.

I think where Kirwan-Taylor went wrong was to say that her children always bore her. She made it appear as if she wanted her children just to get on with their lives and leave her alone to pursue her own interests. I’m sure that’s not what she meant. I think if we were honest with ourselves, we’d all admit to being a little bored by our children once in a while. We’d all admit to thinking about something else occasionally during a game of Checkers or Monopoly. 

Because all we’re really admitting is that we’re adults with lives that are separate from our children’s. And that’s not such a bad thing, is it?

Hannah has always been fascinated with ballet. She tells us she wants to be a ”ballet-rina” when she grows up. To demonstrate, she stands on tippy-toes, raises her arms in an arc above her head, and twirls around.

I’ve been promising her since last year that I’d find her a ballet class. I looked into it at the beginning of this year, but the only decent one I could find started at 2pm. I finish work at exactly that time, so that didn’t work. I had a very specific type of class in mind. I didn’t want her to be put under pressure to do exams, or for the class to be too strict. She’s three, for goodness sake. I wanted the class to be fun.

Since starting maternity leave, I’d been meaning to try the 2pm class, just to see whether she would actually take to ballet. If not, we’d give up on the idea. I eventually got round to it two weeks ago.

I tend to compare my children. I know you’re not supposed to, but I can’t help it. James did ballet between the ages of 4 and 5. We decided to enroll him because it was during crèche hours and it was very laid-back. It turned out that he was extremely self-conscious. I would never have dreamed that such a young child could be so aware of his body and conscious of what people think, but that’s exactly what James was like. He seemed to enjoy the time with his friends, but what he got out of it is a mystery. His movements, when he actually made any, were stilted and self-conscious.

Hannah is completely different. She loves to greet complete strangers and watch for their reaction. She loves singing and dancing and making people laugh. She runs away from us any chance she gets. In a word, she’s fearless.

When I took her to her first ballet class, I was amazed by her. She marched into the class, held hands with her friend and joined in like she’d been there for months. She twirled and galloped with the rest of the little girls. She pretended to be a princess, searching for a diamond. She curtseyed and bowed. All in her running shoes and her brother’s old fleece top on and with a delighted grin on her face.

I had tears in my eyes for the duration of the class. She couldn’t have enjoyed the class more if she’d tried. When she came home, she showed Scott her new moves and talked incessantly about ballet.

I was so taken with the teacher’s style that I’ve paid the fees for the entire term. My plan is to approach my boss when I get back to work and ask to finish 30 minutes early on a Monday so that I can get her to ballet on time. I’ll do whatever it takes, just to keep that smile on her face.

I think it's a personal record. I finished Tertia's book, in less than 24 hours. It was so compelling. I had to force myself to go to sleep and not just continue reading through the night.

Tertia's a friend of mine, so I knew her story. But the book gives so much more insight into what she went through. At the time that she experienced her losses, I cried for her. I didn't expect to cry again when I read the book. I stopped reading just after 11pm on Tuesday night, just after I'd read about Ben's death. I went to sleep crying. I couldn't wait to pick it up again the next morning to read about how she picked herself up to do that last IVF, the one that resulted in Kate and Adam.

I devoured the book. It's a book that South Africa has been waiting for. There's a serious dearth of information about infertility here. Just like her blog, Tertia's book addresses the issue with incredible candidness.

I predict it's going to be a great success. Well done, Tertia. I can't wait to read your next book!

Ok, I think I’m getting it now: telling people about my problems can actually help. Huh. Who knew?

Thank you thank you thank you to you all for your kind comments. It’s so reassuring to know that I’m not the only one on earth going through this. I know that this is a phase, but sometimes, when you’re in the ‘thick’ of the screaming and the feeding and the changing, you wonder what happened to your life. You know what’s ridiculous? My sister, Bee, had almost exactly the same experience with her little girl, and I didn’t even talk to her about it.

The check-up at the paediatrician was good. Jonah is the picture of health except for reflux, just as I’d suspected. He has different medicine to take now and it seems to be helping a bit. Apparently, the vomiting will continue until his stomach is more mature, but the discomfort should ease with the medication.

On that subject: I now spend half my day preparing Jonah’s medication. The genius who thought this up should be shot. It comes in 10mg tablets. I have to break the tablet in half, dissolve one half in 5ml of water and give 4ml to Jonah, twice a day. It sounds simple, but you should try it someday – it takes a sterilizing container, sterilizing solution, cooled boiled water, a medicine spoon, a syringe and a medicine ‘bottle’ for Jonah to drink from. Preparing the dosage takes forever and Jonah spits half of it out because it tastes disgusting. Parenting rocks sometimes, doesn’t it?

Jonah’s stirring, so I should stop. Coming soon: Hannah’s first ballet school experience.

I’ve realised I’m often not completely honest about how I’m doing. Someone will ask how I’m doing and I’ll do the smile and wave thing. “Fine, fine!” I’ll say, grinning like it’s all a bed of roses.

It’s not that I’m a compulsive liar or anything. It’s just that a) I really don’t think people are that interested in the real deal when they ask how you are and b) I don’t see the point of dumping my true feelings on anyone who asks. Besides, what exactly would they be able to do to make it better if I were to let it all hang out? I don’t want sympathy, because it’s just horrible to be pitied, and you all know how I feel about letting other people do things for me.

Seeing as this is my space, though, I’m about to air my dirty laundry. You have been warned…

I’m feeling completely and utterly overwhelmed. Jonah screams morning, noon and night. If I’m not holding him, he screams. If he has a sore tummy, he screams. If I’m a minute late with feeding him, he screams. If he’s tired, he screams. If he’s being bathed he screams. Enough with the screaming already.

We’re not in a routine yet, which probably has a lot to do with the overwhelming feeling I have at the moment of being completely out of control. In the morning, I wake when he wakes to change and feed him, and he pretty much rules the day from then on. When he’s not happy, I can’t get dressed, tidy up, eat, or go to the toilet. (Yes, I know I can put a crying baby down to have a pee, but you know what I mean.)

Here’s a run-down of what happened today:

Jonah woke at 5am with a sore tummy. I sat with him on my chest until 6am, during which time he threw up on me twice. I then put him in his car seat for Scott to watch over him while I had a five minute bath. I got dressed and came into the kitchen, just in time to say goodbye to Scott and for Jonah to start screaming. I packed Hannah and James’s lunch boxes (Jonah screaming) and made myself some breakfast (Jonah screaming). I picked him up and fed him while eating my breakfast, while at the same time helping Hannah get dressed. I put Jonah down to pack James’s aftercare bag. He started screaming again. I brushed my teeth and Hannah’s. I took all three children and all the bags out to the car (Jonah screaming). I took James to school and Hannah to the daymom. (Jonah sleeping: whoohoo!) I came home again to have a cup of tea and get ready to visit a friend. As I sat down with my cup of tea, Jonah woke up and… you guessed it… started screaming. I fed him, drank my tea, tidied the house up, wrote out a cheque for the guy who is paving our front garden (Jonah screaming) and left to visit a friend. I went to the shop to get her a thank-you gift and transfer money for the paving guy. I arrived at my friend and visited with her for an hour, while Jonah slept on my chest and threw up on me.

I returned home to feed Jonah. He slept for about a half hour and then woke, screaming, to be fed. I fed him, changed him, and put him back in his car seat to do the weekly grocery shopping. He slept through the shopping (hurrah!). As I was unpacking the groceries, he woke up screaming. I carried his car seat to the kitchen where I was unpacking, and alternately put groceries away and put Jonah’s dummy in his mouth to stop him screaming.

I made myself a sandwich and a cup of tea for lunch. Halfway through my lunch, Jonah started screaming. I comforted him by touching him and giving him his dummy until I was finished the sandwich and then picked him up to feed him.

Then I left to fetch James. Jonah screamed as we left the house. Then he fell asleep in the car. He slept through fetching James and Hannah.

This is pretty much what my life is like every day now.

I know it’ll get better. I know we’ll get into a routine at some stage, but right now, I feel as if I’m going slowly insane.

The screaming could have a lot to do with the fact that I think he has reflux. He throws up after every feed and struggles with a sore tummy between feeds. I’ve been medicating him for it, but it works sometimes and sometimes it doesn’t. Tomorrow, we’ll see the paediatrician for his check-up and hopefully he’ll have a magic cure up his sleeve.

A friend has been keeping an eye on me for post-natal depression. When she asked me how I’m doing recently, I said that I think I’m doing ok, because when it’s bad, I feel bad, but when it’s good, I feel good. She said that sounded normal. The trouble is, the bad is very bad and often seems to dominate the good. I don’t think I’m depressed, but I’d really really welcome a break, some adult company and a good night’s sleep right now.

Not much time, so abbreviated blog entry for now…

Am feeding Jonah on demand, which translates to anything from every one and a ½  hours to every four hours. Generally, during the day, he feeds every two hours, so have to do things in half hour increments. Makes for a crazy day when you actually want to achieve something.

**

Have discovered new levels of multi-tasking skills: feedthebabyreadthebook; feedthebabydressHannah; feedthebabyhaveatelephoneconversation…

**

Went for check-up with Dr S. Pronounced fine and shall see him again in a year. Seems odd to be saying bye-bye to the world of fertility. At the moment, am fine with the thought, though. Three children puh-lenty for this mommy, thanks very much.

**

“In this day and age, a caesarean seems like the logical way for a women to give birth, don’t you think?” was what Dr S asked me during the check-up. Don’t fully agree with him, but at least this time, can look back on the birth experience with joy, because recovery was so easy. Still wish there was a third option, though.

**

Being on maternity leave is odd. Find myself feeling a bit on the irrelevant side, especially when Scott talks about his job. Can’t really expect him to be riveted by the consistency and frequency of Jonah’s daily poops, now, can I?

**

Feeling completely torn about going back to work. Really looking forward to it. In fact find self thinking about it regularly and longing to be there. But also dreading it, because loving being with Jonah.

**

Mommy Survivor!

Reward Challenges:

• Place the dummy/ binky in the baby’s mouth in the dark.
• Put the nappy/ diaper on the baby before he projectile poops all over your shoes.
• Get your bra open to feed the baby before the neighbours call Child Protection Services.
• Position the burp cloth before the baby vomits aforesaid feed down the front of your shirt.
• Do the dishes in two point three minutes before the baby wakes up.
• Type up a blog entry before the baby cries for his next feed.

Hmm. Seems I've been a bit whiney lately. Let's think of some fun things in my life:

I went to see Poseidon with Jonah a few days ago. I'm fascinated by natural disaster movies, no matter how trashy they are. Jonah was in the sling, so he slept right through the movie and then fed about 15 minutes before it ended. The movie was so badly done, but because it was the Big Screen and I was 'alone', it felt great and terribly indulgent.

**

Hannah's hair has been looking really straggly and split, so I finally broke down and decided to get it cut. (I wanted her to have long, luxurious locks, but the more split and broken it was getting, the more I realized that it wasn't to be.) She now has a 'bob' and of course, she looks gorgeous. Have a look at my flickr account to see the new improved Hannah.

**

I've just finished Jody Picoult's "Second glance" and I'm now reading "The undomestic goddess" by Sophie Kinsella. The former was yet another masterpiece by Picoult, while the latter is a fun book about a lawyer who loses her job and finds herself working as a housekeeper. My favourite passage so far:

"If a woman is attracted to a man, her pupils will dilate. Also, she will unconsciously lean forward, laugh at his jokes and expose her wrists and palms. Experimentally, I lean towards my reflection, holding out my hands as I do so.

I look like Jesus.

I'll try adding a flirty laugh. 'Ha ha ha!' I exclaim aloud. 'You crack me up!'

Now I look like a cheerful Jesus."

(See, I told you I'd never give up reading.)

**

It's the winter school holidays here and yesterday, James, Hannah, Jonah and I went out. As terrified as I was of taking the whole multitude out, it turned out to be not too horrific. We had Hannah's hair cut, fed Jonah, went to visit Granny Pat (my mom) and had a snack at MacDonalds. Hey! I can do this mother-of-three thing. 

It’s almost 6 weeks since Jonah was born and already I’m sick of the postpartum flab. At the moment, I closely resemble a pear. You should try buying clothes for a pear next time you go clothes shopping. It’s a bit of a challenge.

I’m too small for my maternity clothes and too big for my normal clothes. I have two pairs of pants that currently fit: a pair of maternity ones that cleverly zip up (or down) at the sides and a pair of stretch jeans that are just a little too big and threaten to reveal my butt crack whenever I bend down.

Today, I chose the grunge look and went out in a pair of tracksuit pants and one of Scott’s sweatshirts. Somebody call the fashion police. It seemed that everyone apart from me was wearing the latest fashion and looking good. Recognising my offence, I raced over to the nearest Woolies. It took a while, but I managed to find a pair of really cool hipster stretch jeans in a size and a half bigger than my usual size. Yay. I thought they looked really good. Jonah seemed indifferent.

I know. Riveting stuff. Forgive me: I think my brain might be petrifying, or maybe that should be putrefying. I’d promise more intellectual fare soon, but I fear my intellect has gone to the same faraway place as my pre-pregnancy weight.   

Whoops. Seems I’ve been neglecting the blog somewhat. Not for lack of thinking about it, mind you. There have been tons of blog-worthy things that have happened, but, really, typing up a post just isn’t as compelling as watching Jonah breathe.

Here are some topics that have passed through my mind in the past few weeks:

Spoiling Jonah

My mom is responsible for this one. She asked whether Jonah sleeps at night, and I said that yes, he does if he’s pressed up close to me in the bed. To which she replied that he’s spoiled already. I think she meant it in a light-hearted way, but I’ve been told that I shouldn’t ‘spoil’ my newborns before, and it irritates the pants off me. Those two words just don’t belong in the same sentence. Right now, what Jonah needs is comfort, security, warmth and his mother’s presence. It’s just not possible to spoil him.

Taking Jonah out

I dealt with this in my last post, but it’s occurred to me that people look at me as if I’m a criminal for taking Jonah out into the big, wide world. He’s too young, they want to say, and it offends them that he’s out at all. A cashier asked yesterday whether he was a week old, and didn’t believe me when I said that he’ll be a month old tomorrow. A friend pointed out that he’s about the weight of a newborn right now, so it’s probably shocking for people to see such a small baby. Whatever. He’s mine and people should mind their own business.

Going into my cave with Jonah

I’m borrowing Tertia’s term here. I’ve been feeling very cave-ish lately. Sometimes, it’s because all I want is to stare into Jonah’s eyes, and sometimes it’s because I’ve been feeling so depressed that I can’t bear to be in other people’s company. I’ve been taking my medication, and asking Scott to keep an eye on me. It seems that I get most depressed when I feel I have to ‘achieve’ something: when I’ve brought James and Hannah home, and it’s 4 o’clock and I have to unpack their bags, wash their dishes, bath them, make the supper, and take down the laundry, while at the same time feed Jonah and ensure that he’s comfortable. If I can’t do all that, and it’s taking an hour and a half to feed and burp Jonah, I feel panicky and irritable. I know the world won’t come off its axis if I can’t manage to get all the stuff done, but I can’t shake that overwhelmed feeling, that I can’t manage, and that I don’t measure up because I can’t manage.

Carrying Jonah

This one actually warrants an entire entry on its own, but I’m excited about it, so I’m going to mention it here: I bought a sling today and it’s fantastic. Made right here in Cape Town by a couple who live just down the road from me, the aSling© is well made, has a double strap system for extra safety and has already changed my life. Lovelovelove it. Check it out here.