Not another slippery dip

Embracing the messy, mundane & momentous

Help! I am under House Arrest

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prison-barsWhat do stay-at-home mothers share in common with the likes of Julian Assange and Aung San Suu Kyi? Just like me, they have endured time in exile.

As a stay-at-home mother of three young children, I sometimes feel like I’ve been sentenced to house arrest. It can be lonely and isolating and right now it seems interminable.  Aung San Suu Kyi was under house arrest in Burma for more than a decade and the duration of Julian Assange’s exile is anyone’s guess, but I bet he isn’t prepared for years of monotony. I am sure that it is peaceful at the Ecuadorian Embassy and to be honest, the mere thought of being arrested if I step out my front door is just a wee bit exciting to me right now. At least it would be something out of the ordinary….

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A bucket and a mother’s touch

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Cuddles cure sickness

Sick child

As a child I suffered from frequent headaches. At times, if they were really bad, I would be sent home from primary school. I remember the way my mum would put me to bed and stroke my hair until the pain eased. There was no substitute for my mother’s hands. She would sit on my bed and stroke my brow until I was almost asleep, the pain receding almost instantly. No painkiller had her special touch.

Over the break my three-year-old daughter experienced her first bout of gastro. She began vomiting at 5 o’ clock in the evening and she vomited continuously until 7 o’ clock the next morning. For several days afterwards she vomited periodically. As I sat with my daughter throughout the entire night, I thought back to the times when I was sick with my own mother. Her gentle touch and soothing hands reassured me that my sickness would pass and that she wouldn’t let me suffer alone.

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2012. The year that was…

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2012-desk-calendar dotsIt’s officially the last day of 2012 and I have no grand plans for any NYE festivities. Those days came to an abrupt halt when children entered our lives! I can’t say I miss it too much. I had my fair share of fun and right now the idea of the kids tucked up in bed, a glass of red, and a DVD with my husband seem the perfect way to end to the year.

I am not big on resolutions but as each years draws to a close I am partial to some reflection. Looking back over the past year I have had some highs and lows and a lot of average stuff in between. There have been fabulous times, difficult times and a few catastrophes in the mix, but fortunately nothing too serious. I’ve experienced birth and death, sadness and sheer joy. Here’s a little summary of my year…

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The kindness of strangers

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handsBecoming a mother is life changing. It exposes your vulnerabilities in countless ways. Literally overnight you become responsible for an extension of yourself; you become a lifeline.

I remember the first time I took my baby on public transport just a few weeks after her birth. I decided to take the train into the city whilst she slept in her bassinette. Sounds easy enough but I remember feeling anxious as I mentally rehearsed all the steps. How would I get the monster-sized pram onto the train? Would the gap between platform and train be too big? Could the wheels get stuck? What if the doors closed before I had time to get in? Would someone come to my aid? Would I need to ask a stranger for help?

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Beyond the baby phase

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holly mamaMy baby has just turned nine months old. And whilst I am still referring to her as my “baby” she no longer seems like a baby. I was hoping she wouldn’t be in such a hurry to grow up but she is clearly in a desperate hurry to keep up with her sisters. I wish she would slow down. When each of my other daughters was nine months old, I was already pregnant with another baby growing inside me. This time I am not, nor do I intend to be. I notice myself touching my tummy sometimes, subliminally yearning to feel those little bubbles  – the early signs of life.  But there is nothing there (only a rounded belly – the imprint of having been stretched three times in three years)!

It occurs to me now that my baby has had her final feed, that I am no longer needed by her in the same way. She has shown her preference for the bottle over my breast and she decided this without forewarning.  I wasn’t intending on breastfeeding her for much longer but I had hoped to hold onto one feed a day for a little while longer. In any case, I had hoped to be aware of our “final” feed together but she made it abundantly clear one morning that she was no longer satisfied with what she was receiving from me. For a week I tried to coax her into a final feed but it was not to be. I am no longer her physical lifeline. I am all dried up.

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