Two boys and a vasectomy

My old man's little fellas had a bit of augmentation last week. Not so much in the cosmetic sense...let's just say the lid is now firmly shut on our current family size of four. It is quite surreal now to think that we have taken such an extreme measure to ensure we have no more children and it might be enough to give someone pause... that is until they hear about the week we all had after the op. 

The Friday was like a trip into the twilight zone especially for my hubby, who elected for a full general for the procedure. Deadlines, meeting times, ETAs don't exist on Hospital Planet, instead an unusual and completely incomprehensible set of rules somehow maintain a steady flow of humans being cut open, sewn back up and booted out of vinyl recovery recliners all in one day. So upon rushing around like mad people to get the munchkins packed off to kindy in time to arrive at hospital by 8.30am, we were met with the strange and quite annoying reality that we could have arrived three hours later and still been there an hour earlier than the operation start time. 

But Friday was not really the issue, as thankfully punctuality and surgical skills are not mutually exclusive, it was the days that followed. Hubby was out for the count, walking around like John Wayne on the odd occasion he made it out of bed, in addition to making a meal of most of the bathroom when he tried to aim at the toilet. What was sanity-threatening was not the mess, the mayhem or Crash dragging Bang headfirst off the top of the cubby house, but the relentlessness. Not being able to say to another adult "Ok your turn, need a break" was killing me. Every nappy, spill, fight, night terror, bath, meal, wee, walk, playground, accident, smoothie, pick-up/drop-off was mine for what turned out to be seven days. 

This is the point where I say "Single parents...oh my effing god, you deserve a medal, a knighthood, a bloody huge lotto win... I don't know but something big and massively rewarding!" After two days of complete shit in the metaphorical sense and one round of real shit from one of our numerous park adventures, I was losing my mind. 

Hubby just laughed as he watched me slowly go down hill, which then made him double over in pain, which then made me laugh. It was a cycle of hilarity at someone else's expense and karma that went on for days. It was probably only fair that I suffered too given what he'd just done for us. Think about it, he had let someone cut open his crown jewels and potter around in there, endangering a lot of what makes him a man. Even Master 3 was sympathetic "Daddy can't come swimming with me cause he has a sore willy" he told the street from our front balcony.

On night six as we both fell into bed, broken in our own special ways, hubby said "who'd have thought getting the snip would be easier than looking after the munchkins by yourself", "I know" I shrilled with relief at his acknowledgement. Before our laughter could reach hysteria we had both passed out, but not before both feeling even more convinced that two little monkeys were quite enough for us and that the Snip was worth every groan and giggle it had caused. 

Has your hubby had the SNIP? 

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"Stop crying" Mummy cried hysterically

There's something soul-destroying about listening to Adele as your child cries hysterically. Nothing has really changed in the three and half years since I met my first child, a baby's cry, a toddler's cry, they are all the same, they cut through my skin and reach in and grab my heart and say "You are failing me". 

I will never get used to it. Waiting for a coffee today I heard a distant scream of agony and my heart broke just a little as it tapped into the many different cries I have heard in my short time as a Mum. The worst is the pain one, where there is nothing much you can do but comfort them and give them paracetamol, followed closely by the one I am listening to tonight. The over-tired completely lost-my-mind, I'm never sleeping again, and I may die of a broken heart unless you cuddle me all night tantrum. 

The fact is I do feel like I've failed him, despite the fact that I know most parents go through this. The thing with our second child is we didn't do things by the book. Our first was off the bottle by 1.5, he was not cuddled to sleep or given milk in the middle of the night. Unfortunately our laxed approach has lead us to another night where we will have to leave him to cry himself to sleep after comforting and rocking him for over an hour with no success. This is my fault and my husbands. And I am feeling it acutely. 

Luckily despite not following some childless nutbag that's written a book based on their extensive experience with other people's babies, nights like these are far and few between but they are the worst of times for everyone. Made even more traumatic by the fact he can now clearly call out "Mumma" in the most emotional and heartbroken way. 

Poor little guy, being a toddler is so hard, that's the reason we don't remember it I reckon. Just imagine you are too short to reach the stuff that's most interesting, especially the food that you like. You have to get a taller person to understand what you want even though you don't speak very clearly. When you are in the middle of a crucial scene in Madagascar someone stronger than you and who can pick you up does just that and strips you naked and puts you in a bath. Seriously have these people any respect?! 

Poor little man he is so upset, and all my comforting does is make the next time I lie him down even more traumatic. If any one tells you there is something harder than being a parent, smile kindly as you boof them on the head with your handbag. 

The only light is that once you have been through this once or twice you sort of know how it goes. You know that you have to last about 30 75 minutes and then it will be over, he will be asleep and so will you, both exhausted. 

Have you lived through uncontrolled-crying?

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"Superwomen" have it all by NOT doing it all..

I was pretty nervous when Nina called from Fairfax to ask me questions about being a working Mum. Mainly because I feel slightly guilty about it most of the time. I have written about the struggle of Mum's today in Mamamia not once but twice, and so hearing that Sunday Life was going to do an article about us "Superwomen" was reassuring.

The age old question, "Shouldn't Mums give up their working, social and every other kind of lives for the lives of their children?", was still rattling around in my guilty conscience as Nina asked me questions about how I coped. But I remembered some of the advice I had had from so many women who now had older kids and had juggled it all. The lovely Bern Morley told me that there has been absolutely no negative affects on her gorgeous children and they'd been in child care from infancy. And TV-host Melissa Doyle, who arrives at the set of Sunrise every week day at 4.30am, told me she felt the same and elaborated saying "I hope they feel proud of their Mum". Their confidence calmed me and reminded me of the key reasons why I chose to be a working Mum.

But if you are thinking about being a "superwoman" and feel like it'd be all too much, you'd be right. It is really hard and what has come to light it is how insane it is. But take heart - help is here. Because there are so many of us now, there are also highly-accessible and acceptable services ready to help us manage. And as journalist Cosima Marriner writes in Sunday's article:

 "No longer do we have to pretend to the world we're [superwomen] – while imploding inside with the impossibility of doing it all...we've found a new role model: Outsourcing Woman."

Read the full article here: Mother's Little Helpers in yesterday's Sunday Life/Sun-Herald. 

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Puberty Blues...mainly 'cause it's over

Once in a while a network gets it so right. This time it was Channel 10 that carved out a place in Australian TV Drama history. The beautifully crafted Puberty Blues took my breath away and from the social media buzz last night I was not alone. I knew from the trailer it was going to be the stuff of memories but I didn't know I would be hopelessly addicted and engrossed in the characters and their amazingly real and gritty lives. And the writing... oh my... pitch perfect. The acting, the art direction, the style... ok am raving but I can honestly not fault it.  Except maybe the ending, over too soon and without enough fanfare, it's like it raced a little at the end, it needed another half hour to breath. But that opinion could just be because I am completely devoed (as my gen y team member would say in place of devastated) the show is over at all. 

If for no other reason, (and there are so many other reasons) the story is inspiring for giving us a real insight into the fight that women went through to deliver us the freedom and equality that we almost have in full now. The brilliant resilience and immense belief in self that was required for them to question the status quo at the time is nothing short of phenomenal. I am now working fulltime and am lucky enough to be on the directors board of a medium-sized business and none of that would be taking place if it wasn't for girls like Sue and Debbie, and of course their alter-egos and creators Gabrielle Carey and Kathy Lette. 

And to be fair although you may think that men have lost out in all of this, I think what women's liberation has done is allowed them to be more real too. Instead of having to live up to some caveman ideal, men are allowed to talk about feelings with each other, they can cry and they can ask for help. I'm not saying there is no pressure on men to be "men" but I think 40 years on we now understand their humanity and so do they. 

The other thing that bringing back Puberty Blues has done is remind a generation of now adults what it was like to be a teenager. I loved the chance to reminisce into the wild, dreamy mindset that was my own only 20 short years ago. When the most important thing in life was capturing the attention of that one particular guy, and dreaming, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming of what your life will be like as you wait in the wings of high school and stare longingly at the adults working, living and loving out in the world, making their own rules. 

Congratulations to the team that brought this to life a second time around and if you are wondering about the ratings for a potential series 2... check out your Facebook page and you'll know what to do! 

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A Beautiful Beginnings End: RIP Jill Meagher

Street Art Tribute in Hosier Lane, Melbourne, Source: HeraldSun

Her dreams were those of any beautiful young girl, her vibrancy and light existence marred only by a shimmer of doubt that flashed through her mind when a stranger began talking to her on the way home early last Saturday morning. That doubt grew into unthinkable horror when Jill Meagher's circumstances conspired against her and a predator, a man so lost and damaged, thought nothing of ending her near perfect life. A life with a long future of love and adventure and moments. A lifetime of moments he felt were less worthy, than a vulgar, disturbed one made up of power and violence. 

Source: The Vine Live

I don't understand this man, not even close. What megalomania takes hold to not understand another human's huge and majestic existence? How could he not see her, and how she extended into the past, the future and into all those that know and love her in the present? Was it the brilliance of her that made him hate her enough to end her beautiful life? I don't know and like the thousands that walked down Sydney Road as a tribute to this senseless loss, I will probably never know what possessed the man that did this to Jill. 

Tribute March for Jill Meagher, Brunswick, Source: HeraldSun

All we are left with are questions unanswered, shock and grief. And a desperate scrambling to pull together, to reassure each other that humanity is not lost. That there are more of us who feel each other, empathise with and respect each other, than those that do not. I want to hope, I want to send thoughts of strength and love to Tom Meagher and the McKeon Family, but I am collapsed in grief at the absurdity of this life. That this can happen, and does happen more often than we know, breaks my heart. 

Tears replace the space where hope lived, so for now I cry with you in your great loss. And hope that maybe one day the lyrics of this song will make sense of the senselessness of Jill's end. 

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end"

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