didn't actually go that well. Soooo many wake ups. And a 2 hour stint where Ava refused to sleep at all. We did get 4 hours from 2:30 to 6:30 so woohoo for small victories.
Not feeling as optimistic as I originally was about the new plan, but we must persist. Fingers crossed.
Friday, 2 August 2013
Fairy Lights!
In amongst the lows and the struggles and sleep deprivation and feelings of failure, there were moments of pure magic this week. Go figure!
We had a date night at home and set up an outdoor cinema in our backyard using a sheet and Josh's iphone projector. We put on the fairy lights, put the inflatable mattress outside, rugged up, took hot water bottles with us, ate Whittakers L & P chocolate and watched "We give it a Year". Such an awesome way to spend an evening with the hubby. And the girls actually only woke up once each the whole night! We probably should have taken the opportunity to actually get some sleep, but it was just as important to reconnect as Husband and Wife. And it's not like the girls told us they weren't going to wake up for a while....
We also got to see Josh's friend Sam Allen perform at his EP launch party/first gig of his nationwide tour. It was held at the wine cellar, which is a grungy, intimate little bar on K road. Awesome support bands (very folky) and cool set up with fairy lights and old speakers and a Persian rug. We drank apple/feijoa cider, squished in together onto a single couch (which was incredibly uncomfortable. We are little people, but not that little) and had a magical night.
I made some new friends in the area. There is something about connecting with like minded people that just makes you feel more alive and sane. And feeling sane was an important goal this week haha.
And as usual, my girls have been so much fun. Giggling and smiling and practicing their sitting up skills. Blowing raspberries with mouthfuls of food (Ruby). Which is funny but not to be encouraged! Splashing in the bath (Ava). Loving daddy's moves (which he's been practicing all week for his Telecom gig). Playing a new game of "knock down the bowling pins", "high five" and "patty cake, patty cake". Feeding themselves (marmite on toast) and making the biggest mess ever. Munching on teething rusks. Clapping their hands! Well, only once (Ruby) but I'm confident we'll be able to get her to do it again.
Life is funny like that. Guess you've always got to pick yourself up and dust yourself off as you never know what lies around the corner. Just when you think it is all falling apart, there could just be a bit of magic waiting to happen.
We had a date night at home and set up an outdoor cinema in our backyard using a sheet and Josh's iphone projector. We put on the fairy lights, put the inflatable mattress outside, rugged up, took hot water bottles with us, ate Whittakers L & P chocolate and watched "We give it a Year". Such an awesome way to spend an evening with the hubby. And the girls actually only woke up once each the whole night! We probably should have taken the opportunity to actually get some sleep, but it was just as important to reconnect as Husband and Wife. And it's not like the girls told us they weren't going to wake up for a while....
We also got to see Josh's friend Sam Allen perform at his EP launch party/first gig of his nationwide tour. It was held at the wine cellar, which is a grungy, intimate little bar on K road. Awesome support bands (very folky) and cool set up with fairy lights and old speakers and a Persian rug. We drank apple/feijoa cider, squished in together onto a single couch (which was incredibly uncomfortable. We are little people, but not that little) and had a magical night.
I made some new friends in the area. There is something about connecting with like minded people that just makes you feel more alive and sane. And feeling sane was an important goal this week haha.
And as usual, my girls have been so much fun. Giggling and smiling and practicing their sitting up skills. Blowing raspberries with mouthfuls of food (Ruby). Which is funny but not to be encouraged! Splashing in the bath (Ava). Loving daddy's moves (which he's been practicing all week for his Telecom gig). Playing a new game of "knock down the bowling pins", "high five" and "patty cake, patty cake". Feeding themselves (marmite on toast) and making the biggest mess ever. Munching on teething rusks. Clapping their hands! Well, only once (Ruby) but I'm confident we'll be able to get her to do it again.
Life is funny like that. Guess you've always got to pick yourself up and dust yourself off as you never know what lies around the corner. Just when you think it is all falling apart, there could just be a bit of magic waiting to happen.
Low lows
What a week. Not gonna lie, it has been super tough. On a good night, I'd get at least 3 hours in a row. But the good nights were few and far between. And this has been going on for a while. At least it feels like a while. Like months. But Josh seems to think it has only been like this for the past two weeks. Whatever. My brain cannot remember. All it knew was that this was not doable any more.
After the 56789989797th wake up in about 3 hours, I sat down on the floor, told Josh I wasn't cut out for this and couldn't do it anymore and I cried and cried and cried. While my babies cried in another room. I just didn't know what to do. Patting/shushing, picking up, dummies, feeding, etc. None of it was working. Not for more than 45mins any way. And it just made it worse when Josh said "you have to pull it together, you are the mummy".
He was on his way out for a dance rehearsal and I just didn't know how I was supposed to find the energy to keep settling them on my own for the next couple of hours. But he was right, I'm the mum, so I pulled it together and settled them AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN until he came back home around 1ish. And then I emailed a sleep consultant and asked her for help.
The good news is that she got back to me straight away. The bad news is that she isn't available to see me until 24th August. Which is no help as I'll be out of the country. Next slot will be 16th Sept. I may have cried just thinking about having to keep struggling like this until 16th Sept. Egad! But she promised to support me via email/phone/skype until then and said that we may not even need her in person. So we'll see....
Got her suggestions via email last night and implemented them as best as possible today. They coped with the changes really well during the day.
Getting them to sleep for the night was a wee bit of a struggle, but not too bad. We have had a few wake ups, but nothing since 9ish, which is about 2 hours ago... So fingers crossed for the rest of the night. Not expecting 12 hours of sleep, but would love it if we could knock it down to 1 - 2 wake ups each...
Either way, it feels good to have a plan. And to feel more in control again. Seems it's all about confidence!
After the 56789989797th wake up in about 3 hours, I sat down on the floor, told Josh I wasn't cut out for this and couldn't do it anymore and I cried and cried and cried. While my babies cried in another room. I just didn't know what to do. Patting/shushing, picking up, dummies, feeding, etc. None of it was working. Not for more than 45mins any way. And it just made it worse when Josh said "you have to pull it together, you are the mummy".
He was on his way out for a dance rehearsal and I just didn't know how I was supposed to find the energy to keep settling them on my own for the next couple of hours. But he was right, I'm the mum, so I pulled it together and settled them AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN until he came back home around 1ish. And then I emailed a sleep consultant and asked her for help.
The good news is that she got back to me straight away. The bad news is that she isn't available to see me until 24th August. Which is no help as I'll be out of the country. Next slot will be 16th Sept. I may have cried just thinking about having to keep struggling like this until 16th Sept. Egad! But she promised to support me via email/phone/skype until then and said that we may not even need her in person. So we'll see....
Got her suggestions via email last night and implemented them as best as possible today. They coped with the changes really well during the day.
Getting them to sleep for the night was a wee bit of a struggle, but not too bad. We have had a few wake ups, but nothing since 9ish, which is about 2 hours ago... So fingers crossed for the rest of the night. Not expecting 12 hours of sleep, but would love it if we could knock it down to 1 - 2 wake ups each...
Either way, it feels good to have a plan. And to feel more in control again. Seems it's all about confidence!
Sunday, 28 July 2013
Thursday, 25 July 2013
An Open Letter To A New Mum
Source: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/amanda-king/an-open-letter-to-a-new-mom_b_3570136.html?ref=topbar
Dear Mommy,
You're freaking out, and you're scared to let anyone know. You're exhausted and anxious and run ragged, but you're also in love. It's a new kind of love; a shining diamond of a thing that you had no way of imagining before.
Here it is. The love that made it so you'll never sleep again.
The love that has you hearing footsteps in the hallway at night, the door to the nursery opening.
The love that shut the bathroom door this evening, so that you could take a bath; only, the white light and slippery tile were cold and every time you tried to soap up your hair, you heard a tiny cry that probably wasn't real.
This is the love that will kill you.
It feels that way, doesn't it? It feels like there is no possible way you'll make it as a mom. There is no way you'll be able to sustain this burn. You're feeling like you've gotten in over your head, because you've never loved something so much that it made you afraid to close your eyes.
You're afraid to lay your baby down and leave the room. The bare crib mattress is so wide, it's like a cold sea of space, and the two of you were so warm, together, before. You're afraid to fall asleep next to him, though, too. So many things could go wrong, just by snuggling up into bed for the night. You had no idea blankets and warmth and softness and sleep could be so menacing.
You're so tired you're seeing flashes of light in your peripheral vision. You're discovering an obscene, pornographic love for coffee and quiet and especially for naps. You're finding that you can't be touched by your husband at night; not now, not when you've scraped yourself too thin over the rocks of your new love and you have nothing left inside but a thin thread of panic, threatening to snap. Not while your startle reflex is running so high. Not while you're so fragile, you might break if he tried to take comfort in you.
If you broke, who would stay up at night, terrified of the shadows? Who would hold your tiny miracle just right, who would love him and smell the top of his head? Who would stare at him, marveling while he slept in their arms? Who would spring out of bed, heart pounding and fingers numb, and dash across the hallway at the first hint of his crying?
Shh, mommy. It's all OK. It's just that your love's purpose has come to life, and you've never been this needed before. You've never been this counted on, and you have no idea whether you're good enough to be what your child needs. You don't know that life as a parent won't always feel this way, that your child will eat and sleep without you someday, sooner than later. You don't know the depths of your abilities, how you are capable of astounding performances of sacrifice and courage and will.
All this time you've been alive, you've had no idea that you were capable of caring for a life.
God knows nobody ever taught you to care for your own. For as long as you can remember, people have been trying to mold you and crush you, reshape you and change your mind. They have been trying to sell to you that you're too fat, too dull, too stupid, too dirty, not sexy enough and that your sexuality is a sin. They have made you ashamed to pronounce certain parts of your body. They've called you names and put you down, held up a painted, unattainable image in front of you and told you to fight for it. They've told you that if you were enough, you would be thinner, prettier and more sought-after. You'd be quieter and smaller and sweeter. If you were good enough, you would be more like they said you should be.
You had no idea, all this time, that your body was miraculous, that you could grow something perfect inside of you. That, in a gush of pain and blood, you could deliver slippery, perfect innocence and beauty. That you had him inside of you all along. You didn't need to be prettier, you were god, all this time.
And it's quite a realization, isn't it?
How are you supposed to be god when you were only a no-good, ugly, fat, loser of a girl a few days ago? How are you supposed to wake up every morning and know that you're the only thing responsible for keeping the most beautiful being to ever breathe air, alive, when you're just you? How are you supposed to make this immaculate little person happy, make sure he's healthy and thriving, when you've never managed to even be able to tolerate yourself in the mirror?
I don't know how to explain to you that I know this, but you will do it and you will be amazing. All of the beauty and capability you're expecting of yourself, now that you're mommy? We've known it was in you all along. That's why we're your friends and husbands and sisters and admirers. That's why we call you just to talk. That's why we encourage you when you write and sing.
We knew you were amazing, even when you didn't.
And you do know it, now, even though you're fighting it.
You know that you can handle this, and that you'll get through it. You don't have a choice, and so you will pick yourself up, get help if you need to, call your doctor, take pills, go out for dinner with a friend and humiliate yourself by breaking down crying, stay up all night listening for intruders in the grass, sob at your husband's feet, call him at work and tell him to come home, panic and tremble and shake if you have to. Yell and throw up your breakfast. Skip showering for three and four days in a row because you simply can't muster up the initiative. Allow yourself all of your imperfections and fears, because they make up who you are and who you are is READY TO KICK ASS at this mothering thing. Who you are is BEAUTY and WISDOM and LOVE and LOVE and LOVE.
Who you are is Mommy, and you can do this. I swear.
Love,
An Admirer
Dear Mommy,
You're freaking out, and you're scared to let anyone know. You're exhausted and anxious and run ragged, but you're also in love. It's a new kind of love; a shining diamond of a thing that you had no way of imagining before.
Here it is. The love that made it so you'll never sleep again.
The love that has you hearing footsteps in the hallway at night, the door to the nursery opening.
The love that shut the bathroom door this evening, so that you could take a bath; only, the white light and slippery tile were cold and every time you tried to soap up your hair, you heard a tiny cry that probably wasn't real.
This is the love that will kill you.
It feels that way, doesn't it? It feels like there is no possible way you'll make it as a mom. There is no way you'll be able to sustain this burn. You're feeling like you've gotten in over your head, because you've never loved something so much that it made you afraid to close your eyes.
You're afraid to lay your baby down and leave the room. The bare crib mattress is so wide, it's like a cold sea of space, and the two of you were so warm, together, before. You're afraid to fall asleep next to him, though, too. So many things could go wrong, just by snuggling up into bed for the night. You had no idea blankets and warmth and softness and sleep could be so menacing.
You're so tired you're seeing flashes of light in your peripheral vision. You're discovering an obscene, pornographic love for coffee and quiet and especially for naps. You're finding that you can't be touched by your husband at night; not now, not when you've scraped yourself too thin over the rocks of your new love and you have nothing left inside but a thin thread of panic, threatening to snap. Not while your startle reflex is running so high. Not while you're so fragile, you might break if he tried to take comfort in you.
If you broke, who would stay up at night, terrified of the shadows? Who would hold your tiny miracle just right, who would love him and smell the top of his head? Who would stare at him, marveling while he slept in their arms? Who would spring out of bed, heart pounding and fingers numb, and dash across the hallway at the first hint of his crying?
Shh, mommy. It's all OK. It's just that your love's purpose has come to life, and you've never been this needed before. You've never been this counted on, and you have no idea whether you're good enough to be what your child needs. You don't know that life as a parent won't always feel this way, that your child will eat and sleep without you someday, sooner than later. You don't know the depths of your abilities, how you are capable of astounding performances of sacrifice and courage and will.
All this time you've been alive, you've had no idea that you were capable of caring for a life.
God knows nobody ever taught you to care for your own. For as long as you can remember, people have been trying to mold you and crush you, reshape you and change your mind. They have been trying to sell to you that you're too fat, too dull, too stupid, too dirty, not sexy enough and that your sexuality is a sin. They have made you ashamed to pronounce certain parts of your body. They've called you names and put you down, held up a painted, unattainable image in front of you and told you to fight for it. They've told you that if you were enough, you would be thinner, prettier and more sought-after. You'd be quieter and smaller and sweeter. If you were good enough, you would be more like they said you should be.
You had no idea, all this time, that your body was miraculous, that you could grow something perfect inside of you. That, in a gush of pain and blood, you could deliver slippery, perfect innocence and beauty. That you had him inside of you all along. You didn't need to be prettier, you were god, all this time.
And it's quite a realization, isn't it?
How are you supposed to be god when you were only a no-good, ugly, fat, loser of a girl a few days ago? How are you supposed to wake up every morning and know that you're the only thing responsible for keeping the most beautiful being to ever breathe air, alive, when you're just you? How are you supposed to make this immaculate little person happy, make sure he's healthy and thriving, when you've never managed to even be able to tolerate yourself in the mirror?
I don't know how to explain to you that I know this, but you will do it and you will be amazing. All of the beauty and capability you're expecting of yourself, now that you're mommy? We've known it was in you all along. That's why we're your friends and husbands and sisters and admirers. That's why we call you just to talk. That's why we encourage you when you write and sing.
We knew you were amazing, even when you didn't.
And you do know it, now, even though you're fighting it.
You know that you can handle this, and that you'll get through it. You don't have a choice, and so you will pick yourself up, get help if you need to, call your doctor, take pills, go out for dinner with a friend and humiliate yourself by breaking down crying, stay up all night listening for intruders in the grass, sob at your husband's feet, call him at work and tell him to come home, panic and tremble and shake if you have to. Yell and throw up your breakfast. Skip showering for three and four days in a row because you simply can't muster up the initiative. Allow yourself all of your imperfections and fears, because they make up who you are and who you are is READY TO KICK ASS at this mothering thing. Who you are is BEAUTY and WISDOM and LOVE and LOVE and LOVE.
Who you are is Mommy, and you can do this. I swear.
Love,
An Admirer
Wednesday, 24 July 2013
My birthday
After the girls first nap of the day, we all headed to the Zookeepers Son in Royal Oak. We were half an hour late (bloody typical) so almost everyone was already there and waiting. Caroline, Jeremy (and Master Jack), Robert, Jules, Simon, Drew, Tila, Siza, Ben were sitting outside in the sun having a drink.
We all made our way up to the top and the bar staff kindly gave us TWO complimentary bottles of bubbly! Yussss! Had a lovely brunch with everyone, then pulled out the cheesecake to share. Which was then followed by ice-cream and more cake from the Bar! We were so looked after!
We got home around 2 and had a rest/played with the girls until the in-laws came over to baby-sit.
Josh and I got ready and headed over to the Rekorderlig pop up bar called "winter lights". It's open for 2 weeks only and has been designed to look like a forest. We walked in and fake snow fell on us. There were people every where sitting on the ground on picnic blankets, on old school Swedish couches. We had delicious cocktails and Swedish tapas and sat on a couch with a blanket over our legs. It was AMAZING and was the perfect way to end the night.
Friday, 5 July 2013
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