What I did today

It's hard to feel any sense of achievement when your house is in a constant state of this ^

I was feeling really down about the state of our house.  I usually write a 'to do' list daily, then take things off the list as they get done.  But lately I've felt like I haven't been able to get much on my list done.  And those remaining very important (but not absolutely necessary) jobs sit there taunting me and making me feel stink. So today (well, yesterday now that I have time to write this) I decided to do something different.  I wrote a list of the things I did do instead.

So here's my list.  It's from the time I got up until midnight (figured that was fairest) I'm sure I've left stuff off.  And I'm sure maybe there are things on there that others don't consider 'work' - but hey - I tried to include everything (including the things I do for myself - cos equally important for sanity):

•          Washed one load of dishes
•          Breakfasted the kids
•          Engaged in some sort of intelligent conversation online
•          Washed a load of nappies
•          Washed a load of delicates
•          Had a shower (then Etta and Abby had a bath)
•          Read 10+ kids books to kids
•          Brought in washing
•          Made up nappies
•          Dressed 2 x kids
•          Took kids to dental nurse
•          dropped clothes to clothing bin
•          Hung out two loads of washing
•          Washed more dishes
•          Fed kids lunch
•          Made marinade for chicken
•          Got two kids to nap
•          Read (grown up books.  To myself)
•          Napped for almost one hour myself
•          Played with kids in paddling pool
•          Dressed two kids
•          Made cupcakes with kids
•          Put all the dishes away
•          Changed all the nappies
•          Tidied and Vacuumed Etta's room
•          Put a painting up in Abby's room
•          Tidied and vacuumed Abby's room
•          Played cars in the hallway with Abby
•          Read articles on immigration/Trump blah blah online
•          Picked up takeaways for kids dinner
•          Took photos of birds
•          Helped kids with their dinner and sang happy birthday with cupcakes
•          Re-vacuumed Etta's room after cupcake disaster
•          Cleaned up cat vomit
•          Looked at export options for payments on Google Adwords for MIL
•          Made dinner for the grown ups
•          Brought in one load of washing
•          Put Abby to bed
•          Dressed Etta for bed
•          Did part of Etta's bedtime routine with her before leaving for pub quiz
•          Edited photos of birds
•          Went to pub quiz (the fun activity of the day)
•          Attempted to resettle one itchy 21 month old

I think this is a much better way of accounting for my time than just taking things off a list.  Look!  Lots of things!  I did lots of things!  The other way I do things just makes everything I did invisible and presents me with all I have yet to do.  Which in turn makes me feel useless and pretty stink.  Lame!

So maybe if you're feeling a bit crap about the state of your house/washing/dishes/human relationships give this a go.  Make sure you write it all down.  I reckon you'll find you do a lot more than you think!  And maybe a lot more things with/for your kids than you think.  And at the end of the day, that's a pretty important thing.

This is actually what comes of me ignoring the kids to do chores* - Etta reading to Abby.

 

 

* Only sometimes... On the odd occasions where they aren't yelling/hitting/pushing/zombies to kids TV (AKA technological babysitter)

On Why Leaving The House With Two Kids Is Hard

Us on an easy outing yesterday - a walk to the local park

I am home alone again today (yay!) so thought I'd write something.  But my brain is foggy and I have painting to do so today's post is going to be about my current bug bear regarding kids: taking two of them out alone.

While for some people this appears to be a piece of cake - for me this is just not the case.

Here are some of the reasons why:

1) I am still not a legally licensed driver 
Why?  I have chronic anxiety about sitting my drivers license.  Like, I can't even make the phone call to book the test.  As in, I had to resit my learners license because it expired and I didn't have my original license because it was in my wallet which was stolen (many years ago now) so I had to actually resit it.  Whilst I no longer completely hate driving the idea of driving, the idea of driving with a total stranger judging my every move is absolutely terrifying.  And the fact that the fail rates for the restricted license is much higher now than if I had have sat it when I should have (about 15+ years ago) just makes it worse.  And sitting this license multiple times is very expensive and because we are not rich people this is just not going to be possible (or fun).  So whilst I do (illegally) drive the kids short distances (basically just to kindy or the mall AKA less than 2km from our house) sometimes, I try to avoid it cos, you know, it's totally illegal and being pulled over by the cops would not aid me in my anxiety.*

2) So we have to take public transport
And we not only live in a place which is totally accessible to public transport (excellent planning when buying our house if I do say so myself) but the kids love catching buses and trains.  But this is prohibitive in that if we want to go anywhere we need to:
a) plan it around bus/train timetables
b) only go to locations which are bus or train accessible
c) only go to locations which are travel time friendly
c) go on a day where the kids are not freaking out.  So not on a day where Etta is regularly 'too cold to walk' or suddenly stricken by 'too tired to move' or 'hasn't had enough Mummy Time', which is probably about 75% of the time.

3) Getting our shit together
Going out before I had kids - piece of cake.  Going out now that I have kids - not sure that it's worth the effort.  Once I've put together water, spare nappies, shoes, socks, sunblock, hats, snacks and snugglies and packed them into something I can easily carry and then changed the poo that Abby's inevitably done whilst trying to get ready to go out, and wrangled the wriggly toddler into the pram, we have often missed our 'catching the bus' window.  We then have to find something else to do for twenty minutes that can be put down easily (ie: without a tantrum) before we start the process over again.

4) Because Etta and Abby collectively weigh about 32 kg 
So if they won't walk, I have to carry them.  And unlike large sacks of potatoes, or heavy boxes of goods, they also have limbs that flail about.  Etta has given me both a black eye and a fat lip.  And I have dropped her once.  So carrying both kids tantruming to the car/bus/train is not a safe option for anyone.  And it's fucking hard work!  Totally kills your arms.  And back.  And shoulders.  I am not designed for this shit.

5) So use a pram... 
We do!  Most of the time this works ok.  But Abby can tantrum so hard that I have physically not been able to put her back into the pram before (we had to downsize our Mountain Buggy as Abby was too big for it.  Seriously).  And whilst I have had to carry Etta log styles mid tantrum (she lost a shoe) whilst pushing a totally fine Abby in the pram, this was physically difficult and dangerous and not something I aspire to do again any time soon.**

5) Etta gets anxious about new things 
Whilst Etta's anxiety is likely triggered by my anxiety, there is plenty of evidence which suggests that she is just an anxious kid.  Given how anxious I was during my pregnancy with her it is no surprise that she also has anxiety***.  As a consequence of this, going to new places is hard for her.  Because I am a comfortable space for her, if I am with her she will comfortably express her anxiety outwardly in a variety of ways (and if I am not there she will shut down until she feels more comfortable in her surroundings). 

Because what she wants is for me to focus solely on her to help her manage her scared feelings.  Unfortunately, this is just not possible with one parent and two kids.  Especially if it's a 'play date' style situation and I am also expected to interact with other adults (or children).  So in these circumstances, her behavior is exacerbated because her needs are not being met.

It is unreasonable both for me to be able to meet a need so great (from Etta) whilst actively participating and meeting the needs of others (Abby and everyone else).  It is also unreasonable to expect Etta to manage her upset feelings herself (she's only three and a half).  So these experiences, whilst opening pathways for future activities, are fucking hard work and I am not always mentally up to the challenge.

6) Other people's reactions to Etta's behavior
I'd like to think I don't care about what other people think.  And most of the time I don't.  It's not that I want to be perceived as the perfect parent - I don't.  I try my best to be a good enough parent and I think, most of the time, I am (although it's a struggle). 

It's that kids notice stuff too.  Tantrumming kids are generally regarded by the public to be 'naughty kids' or to have 'negligent parents'.  I cannot tell you how many 'control your kid' stares I've had from strangers when out in public.  I also cannot tell you how many times Etta has noticed those stares.  Or how many times she's been negatively interacted with by strangers.  I don't want her to believe that she is a naughty kid.  I don't think that she is.  I do believe that she has high needs that are often difficult to manage - especially in public spaces.

I fully understand that these are perfectly natural reactions and that these people aren't just total ass hats.  It's just that these aren't especially helpful reactions.  So if we go out and it happens sometimes then it's ok - because if someone says something mean to you once in a while it's easy to shake off.  But if people are regularly telling you the same thing it's hard not to believe that it's true.  I love Etta and I don't want her to believe she is a naughty kid.  So that means that sometimes we'll stay home to avoid her hearing that same old rhetoric.

7) Friends responses to Etta's behavior
Like the strangers above ^, they absolutely mean no harm and are trying to do good.  But hearing 'Sarah went through a phase of (behavior vaguely related to your kids behavior) and we did this (thing requiring time and stamina****) consistently and it got better' in same same but different guises for multiple problems, over and over again, doesn't feel helpful.

I know this is the intent.  I know my friends are just trying to be helpful and make my life more manageable and I am grateful for that.  But at that point in time, what I really want to hear is more along the lines of:
'That does fucking suck.  Being a parent fucking sucks.  Here's a glass of wine.*****'

Because at that point in time you feel pretty shitty as is.
So what your friends advice sounds like is:
'I'm a far more competent parent than you are.'
And that just makes you feel more shitty.

8) Because sometimes my creative energy is maxed out
Some days I just do not have the energy to have to come up with a good enough argument and counter argument as to why it's not a good day to get ice-cream.  Or why the homeless guy on Great North Road smells so bad (and why we shouldn't talk about it where he can hear us).  Or to explain to other people why Etta, when encountering normal human small talk turns to me and says 'Why is that person talking to me?'

Because honestly, there really is no good reason not to eat icecream unless you're lactose intolerant or vegan.  The homeless guy smells because he has no easy access to showers - we shouldn't talk about it in front of him in case he's mentally unstable due to the extreme pressures of his life and wigs out and tries to murder us.  And there is actually no good reason for small talk other than to make noise.

9) Fear that my kids will actually die or be kidnapped
Because this one time I came to pick Etta up from Kindy in the car because we were running late, and because she was expecting that we would walk she flipped out whilst we were playing in the park next to Kindy.  So she threatened to run out on to the road - and then actually ran out onto the road.  And because I didn't have Abby's pram (because I had the car) I had to give her to a stranger at the park crying, then wrestle Etta kicking and screaming into her car seat and then retrieve Abby who was thankfully not kidnapped by the stranger.

So those are the main reasons we don't always go out when it's just me and the kids.


* Yes, I want to sit my license.  No, I have no idea about how to plan to do this.  Ideas are welcome.  Like, helpful ideas.  Not 'just get over it' style ideas.  And not expensive ideas (we have zero spare money) I don't like breaking the law.

** On this occasion we literally JUST made it to the bus before it pulled out.  I was so glad.  And a stranger man picked up Etta's shoe and just gave it to me with no evil looks or stupid sayings which I was so grateful for.

*** Having had an in-home assessment done so that we have some understanding of where to go for help with managing Etta's stuff, we are in the process of finding the right facilitators (and the money) to help us understand what she needs, and how we can help her.  Why do this when she's only 3 1/2?  So we have time to have some understanding around this to make the best decisions around which school will work best for her specific needs.   We are waiting to get her assessed for giftedness/ASD and to start therapy for her sensory issues.


**** Time is never something I have much of.  With two similar aged kids, both of whom want my constant attention, there is little space for any one on one time with either of them unless there is another adult present, and even then it's hard. 

***** This is in my glamorous imaginary life where I have no qualms about daydrinking whilst caring for kids.  I do have qualms.  I'm an anxious person.

On Going Off My Meds and Panic Attacks and Christmas

Ah Christmas, simultaneously the best and worst time of the year.

So I haven't blogged much about anything much in ages cos busy, braindead, parent etc etc.  So you probably won't know this, but around September or October last year I went off my anxiety medication.

Now this post is not going to be an uplifting rant about how much more colourful the world is now I'm unmedicated.  This post isn't going to be about how I'd been medicated long enough and it was time and blah blah blah.  Neither of those things are true.  The truth is I ran out of my anti-anxiety medication and was so busy I just didn't get any more.  This is not a smart thing for people with mental health issues to do.

Why?  Because there are varying side effects from going off most of these types of medications.  Which is why the proper process for this is talking about it with your GP, and if they agree it's time, taking your dose down slowly until the dose is non-existent.  And while side effects may be something small like dry mouth or an upset stomach, they can also result in massive depressive episodes or actual psychotic breaks.

Having been on and off these kinds of medication over many years I am totally aware of these facts.  Which is why what I did was very stupid and not smart or brave or good.

The only reason I went off my meds was because I ran out.  The week that I ran out I was extremely busy, and I couldn't see any time in which I could easily go to my doctors without the kids.  Why without the kids?  Because I have chronic anxiety about seeing doctors about my anxiety and I have never managed to do this without collapsing into a blubbery, awful mess which I don't want my kids to have to witness if at all avoidable.

So I just ran out of meds.

And then what happened was pretty meh.  I was more irritable.  I was very dizzy.  These were the two side effects I definitely had.  But other than that I actually felt ok.  So then, after a week I thought maybe this will be ok.  And (like many other people in my position) I didn't tell anyone I had gone off my meds until I felt like it was going to be ok. 

Which is also a really shitty thing to do.  Because it's not like those side effects didn't impact on other people.  I can't remember if I told Murray before or after one fainting spell, but I know I didn't tell him for a while after I ran out because I felt stupid and guilty about it.  Because it's not I couldn't have got help with the kids to see the doctor.  I could have.  But I felt as though I would have had to explain to that helping person why I had to go to the doctor so urgently.  And that just seemed impossible.

And got harder the longer I was off my meds for.  And because besides those minor side effects I actually did feel ok, I really didn't feel like I was doing anything wrong in not going to the doctors.  Because I actually did feel ok.

Then one day it felt like something just snapped.  Something happened at work - I can't even remember specifically what it was, but it was just an everyday stressful situation.  The kind I could usually deal with fine and move on with my day.  But instead it was like my body missed a gear, and I went into full on fight or flight mode: heart racing, stomach tightening, sweating like crazy.  As a long time fairly functional anxious person I covered (I think) fairly well.  I didn't even take a break, I just kept doing my job and continued with my day.

But after that, it was like something had actually broken in me chemically.  Because after that day small things that whilst medicated I could manage fine - put me into a full on panic.  It truly felt like I had a faulty gearbox that slipped into fourth into first and your rev counter is almost off the clock.

This was the first time since I came off my meds that I actually thought being unmedicated was not the best idea.  What was difficult about this was that by this stage it was late November.  Coming into Christmas meant more hours at work, more social gatherings and more stuff with the kids.  So Mum was down extra to help with these things, I was working more and everyone was generally busy.  And because my anxiety was so chronic, it meant asking for help to get to a GP seemed impossible.

The other issue I had was that there were genuine reasons for me to be stressed.  December is the busiest month in retail - we do about 1/3 of the business for the year in that month.  So work was stressful.  We had someone leave a month out from Christmas and we were short staffed.  So work was tough on everyone.  At home we were also very busy.  Etta had two Kindy trips in one week at the beginning of December both which I was a parent help at.  We also had important birthdays, a specialist appointment and, a family funeral to attend over the holiday period.  And that's on top of the usual Christmas parties (x 4 over three days) and baking and cleaning to do - all of which are things that even a medicated Hannah would have struggled to cope with.

And there were Christmas projects to complete.  I happen to love Christmas - in spite of the stress and craziness of it all.  So every year I have a list of foods and craft gifts to make.  And most years I overdo things.  This year (well, last year), because I knew I was so busy and not coping that well, I actually pulled back.  And whilst this did still create a little stress, I felt as though I actually coped better than I have most years with setting more realistic goals, projects and time frames around my other commitments.  The fact that I managed this unmedicated was a sign that maybe, I was actually coping ok.



 


Me at the most chill part of Christmas - after the parties are over.

So what this means is that I'm still unmedicated.  And I'm still unsure as to whether this is a good thing or not.  I am still regularly having mini panics over small things and hate parties.  And I am still tetchy and probably not nice to deal with for those closest to me when I'm anxious about something.  But I'm managing.  I want a little time and distance from Christmas to get some perspective as to how bad/irrational my current levels of anxiety are.  I have managed for many years without medication, using other tools like therapy, mindfulness and adrenal supplements to help me manage my day to day existence.

But it isn't always enough.  It is difficult working out the balance and requires checking in with other people.  Because often well to unwell is a slope that you don't even realise you're heading downward on but can be quite apparent to those closest to you.  It requires trusting implicitly a small circle of people.  And that is extremely hard for an anxious person to do.

This post is not a cry for help.  I am doing ok.  Anxious, but ok. I mostly wrote it because I don't want people to feel proud of me for going off my medication.

Going off medication without assistance from a health professional is not something to be proud of - it was an awfully irresponsible thing for me to do.  It has not only negatively impacted on me, but on those closest to me.  And I am sorry for that.  I also don't want people to think that being unmedicated is my goal - or that it should be the goal of any mentally unstable person.  It isn't and it shouldn't be.  Honestly.  Some of us are chemically broken in ways that are difficult to fix in non-medical ways.

In spite of this, many of us will do exactly what I've done as outlined above.  I hope that talking about things like this can help others like me feel less alone, guilty and fearful.  Many of us have made this mistake, and many of us will make it in the future.  And it doesn't make us bad people, just human.  What's important is getting back on the path to wellness, in whatever form that path may take.

* I know this is minimising my mental health stuff and bad etc.  But this is how I still frame it in my head.  I do find it hard not to think about my own mental health this way.  In part, because it feels like there are so many other immediate priorities at hand, but also in part because for my entire life many people have not taken this seriously - so it can still be difficult for me to perceive it as important even though I know that it is.  Trust me, I do.

On My Suburban Birds Project

So there's a reason why I haven't blogged in ages, and it's not just because I'm working and have small kids and try to sleep as much as I possibly can during the small windows available to me (although those are rather large factors).  At the moment I'm working on a year long project where I take photographs of local birds every day.

 And by every day I mean every single day.  It means literally every day.  Today was day 71, and whilst today wasn't an amazing day photographically I still did it.

So why am I doing this you ask?

Well, the idea came out of me doing one of my thirty days of gratitude shticks on Facebook.  It's where every day, for thirty days, I came up with three things I'm grateful for.  Because I'd been a bit down about life generally, and gratitude is a proven method of curing depression.  Whilst doing this, I discovered I was often looking toward nature around our house and feeling grateful for it.  I also started taking photographs a little more of what I saw so I could illustrate these small but powerful things brightening my life.

At a deeper level, Suburban Birds is a reflection of my own suburban life.  I never expected to be a suburban housewife.  Never in a million years.  Having grown up in the country, I kind of anticipated returning to it as a grown up.  Which is weird, considering I have no skills with which to provide a means to support myself in the country.  Anyhow.  I also never expected to be a wife to anyone, let alone a mother.  So whilst I love where I am and what I do, when I step back and look at it sometimes it seems a bit strange.

But that's only when I look at it from the perspective of an outsider looking in - a stranger.  Someone making assumptions based on pre-designated ideas about what it means to be a suburban housewife.  I imagine those people might see us as swarms of Mountain Buggied yoga pants wearing decaf drinking ladies trying to work off those bonus baby bumps.  Or maybe as an attache to our partners living their successful lives outside the home.  Or maybe they don't even see us at all.

And it was the invisibility aspect of things which I really associate with birds.  People almost never
even think about birds in the suburbs.  Especially not the grey/brown birds like the sparrows and pigeons.  But they are always there.  If you just sit still and listen at almost any point in time during the day you will hear them.  And if you look, you'll see them too.  And whilst at first glance, all may seem alike given time you come to notice their differences.  Not just in species, but in age, colour, body tone, flight pattern, song.  In time they all become individuals just trying to live their lives alongside us.  And they are beautiful and funny and unique and amazing.

All of them.  Not just the native birds NZ is famous for but the imports too.  The sparrows, the thrushes, the blackbirds the mynas.  Even the pigeons.  All of them.  They are all part of the landscape and soundscape that form the backdrop of our lives.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *    

When I started this project I expected it to be another thirty day Facebook project.  Then after a few weeks I realised I needed maybe 100 days.  But then realised I needed more.  Because every single day doing this one simple thing was helping me feel connected with the world I live in.  And there is just so much to see.

Today was not an amazing day.  On a Thursday I usually take photographs near a few bridges over Opanuku Stream, but it was too rainy for this to be feasible to do in work gear.  So I just took some pictures of Southern black backed gulls on the council buildings whilst I waited for my bus home from work.  But what you can't see here is how on my afternoon break I tried to take photos.  I went into the bush and found a pukeko too fast for my camera.  I tried to spot wildlife over the stream standing on the wobbly metal overbridge and heard birds hiding out from the rain, but spotted nothing.  I went outside into the world and looked around.

And this looking has resulted in all kinds of things.  I've had a conversation with a woman who discovered a magical spot at the same time as me.  She took off her shoes and walked down to some rocks under a bridge to look at the wildlife and to ask me what she was doing.  She was from New Lynn and had lived there for fifteen years.  She had only been to Henderson a handful of times.  It is not easy to describe, but it was a special meeting.  And it occurred less than 20 metres from Alderman Drive Pak N Save.

One day whilst perusing local bush by the mall I spotted what I thought was a homeless persons possession stash.  On closer inspection, at a later point in time I discovered it was actually discarded stolen objects.  Empty bags and purses, a glasses case, a low value jersey.

On Sunday I interrupted someone sleeping in the bush.  It was an awkward moment.  We were very close to throngs of people, yet a world away.  Consequently we each were frightened of how the other would react.  And, much like the birds I try to capture on film, he ran away before I could apologise to him, for my presence in what is normally maybe a safe place to take a kip.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *   

 At this stage, I'm planning on doing this for a year and taking stock from there.  I don't know what it will result in.  Maybe an exhibition?  Maybe a zine?  Maybe a calendar?  I'm not sure.  I haven't approached anyone yet and I won't be any time soon.  I am tweeting my pictures because I think the idea of tweeting about birds is hilarious and this is the only reason I use Twitter.  And maybe somewhere out there in 'real' bird land might have some ideas or insight. 

What I do know is that this is good for me.  And it's good for my family.  Murray can't not notice birds now.  He knows all the best places to spot them between our house the the train station now.  He's even taken some photographs himself.  He is far better at bird spotting than I am (pros of 20 20 vision). And we've found an amazing spot to take the kids to 'go look at ducks'.  They love it.

This gives me piece of mind.  It gives me something outside of my suburban life and home, whilst bring something so much part of my suburban life and home.

I think birdwatching could be the next big thing in curing depression.  But even that's not the point.  The point is to see what is living around you.  Because one you see it, it's hard to unsee.

On going back to work

So I put my big girl pants on - sent my CV out, filled out a form and sat through one 3 minute interview and lo and behold - I am now a working Mum.

When I decided it was time to go back to work I also made the decision that it wouldn't be a career move for me.  Since Mumhood my brain feels a bit shattered.  As it is, I don't remember the last time I had a five hour solid stretch of sleep.  I think there's been one since Abby was born almost 18 months ago - but I can't remember when.  So taking on something really meaningful and important is not something I felt quite ready to do.

The unedited me-right-now pic.  This is the face of a person not ready for a career.
Or willing to wear pants for more than three days a week.

I also wanted to work close to home.  Having previously had a small commute to Pt Chev for my dream easy job (Video Ezy Pt Chev RIP) I felt that it was in mine, and my families best interests that I work closer.  Cos with double the children there is double the chance of needing to rush back because of spew, coughs, temps, falls or radioactive spider bites.  And given we live a mere 20 minute walk from Westcity Mall and I'm filled to the brim with retail experience, it made sense to look for something there.

I never heard back from the first few places I dropped my updated CV into after seeing ads on Trademe (your loss Hush Puppies and that other place I can't even remember).  And as there was no real hurry for me to return to work I just sat on my hands for a bit. 

Then one day I was having a Mummy-Etta date at the mall and happened to run into my Mother In Law.  She informed me that there were pasta machines on sale for $15 in Stevens and she would gladly watch Etta for a few minutes while I went to get one - if I wanted to (which I did) - because she knows I like making pasta.  After waiting in the longest queue ever for my machine of pastariffic joy, and receiving many comments from fellow shoppers in the line ('How do you just buy one thing at a sale?') I finally paid for my machine and noticed a sign on the counter offering part time work.

Whilst that time was clearly not the best to inquire further, I perused the sale again a few days later and asked about the position.  The lady who is now my manager printed me out an application form which I dropped back a few days later.  Then after going through credit and security checks I got the green light - I was a Stevens employee.

They funniest part of me ending up working for Stevens is this:

Younger Hannah was banned from Stevens.

It was a self enforced ban.  It was placed on me by me for my own good.  Some women buy clothes they don't need.  I buy kitchen things I don't need.  I'm just a sucker for kitchen porn.  And Stevens had the shiniest and glassiest and prettiest and on saliest things of them all.  Younger Hannah recognised that was not good for her or her bank account and promptly put a stop to it.*

Buying that pasta machine is the first thing I'd bought from Stevens in probably 10 years.

 The kitchen porn specialists.  A dangerous place.

So how is working life as a Mum of two kids?

The best part is that it enforces time away from the kids, which I sorely needed.  Being a SAHM can make you go stir crazy.  And for someone with an existing mental health diagnosis, being stir crazy is not really something to aim for.  Just being able to be an adult who can pee alone and have grown up conversations and not have to carry a flailing screaming toddler around for a few hours a week makes a massive difference.

The next best (and most obvious) part is that we have a bit more money.  With me returning to work in a low income position we really had to do some math and balance out exactly how much I'd have to work to make it feasible (too little and we're better off getting our WFF tax credits, too much and it interferes with how much time I want to spend with the kids).  I was very lucky to find a job with pretty much the right balance - so it means we do have a little extra each week which takes the pressure off everyone a little.

The other part, that I hadn't really expected, was finding a new community outside of my home.  I am very used to working alone.  Well, not totally alone cos customers but, you know, a numero uno sole staff person thing.  At Stevens, whilst I do work sole charge sometimes, I usually don't.  And while our team at Stevens is small (5 permanent staff), the team at Farmers isn't (our store is a store within a store**).  So I get to work with and see lots of lovely people every day.  And whilst thinking I might be the odd one out of our little team (manager is older than me but all other staff MUCH younger) that just hasn't been the case.  Despite my lack of knowledge of current culture, I seem to get along ok with everyone.  I even go out to pub quiz with a small Farmers/Stevens team once a week.  It's fantastic.

The only issue is that old chestnut of finding the balance of how much to work.  As we've had some big changes at our store since I started, there have been a lot more hours come up that I could work if I want.  Which means more money which is always helpful.  But also means more time away from the kids.  I think we've found the working balance of the maximum I can work without tipping things over at home***.  But I know how hard it can be to enforce this.

Especially because time away from the kids is a little like crack.  After a few days of it I can see why some people might actually prefer to work than be home with the kids.  Whilst I love my kids to bits they can drive me a little nuts.  Going to work feels a bit like having a holiday from being at home.  Honestly, when I'm sick I'd prefer to be at work because I get more rest there than at home.

Just remember: this is called parenting, not babysitting.
Actually, this is called eating noodles.

 
Do I worry about the kids when I'm at work?  Not really, because we have a crack team of co-parent and Grandparents on the case.  And me working gives them time to build better one on one relationships with each other.  Which I think is important.  I was lucky to grow up living with one set of my Grandparents at varying points in time.  The skills and knowledge I learned from these times was priceless.  This is a gift I'd love for my kids to have too.

The only real con of working is that I neglect writing posts.  Truly, there are so many half finished posts jammed up in editing that I just haven't had the brain to finish.  I want them to be out there.  I have important things to say dagnabbit!  And one day I might actually start getting some sleep and then BAM - posts galore.  And then who knows what else I'll achieve with this brain of mine?****

* Even Younger Hannah banned me from buying cookbooks.  In my early 20's I had a sort out once and realised I had over 40 of them.  Since then I have never bought myself a cookbook.  Seriously, it's been about 15 years.  I was going to make an exception for my previous boss and friend Sarah King's book because - well - that was a bit different.  But I was lucky enough to be gifted one by Sarah so I actually didn't break that ban even then.

** Stevens and Farmers are both owned by JPL Group Ltd.  The decision for Stevens to move inside Farmers (which happened about four years ago) at Westcity was because of money/rent pay-the-bills based decisions - it ended up being an arrangement beneficial to both parties (but mostly Stevens) and hey, all owned by the same peoples anyway.  For me, it means I have the benefit of working within a small team under the infrastructure of a large company which is kind of the best of both worlds (I don't ever have to fix computers!  Yay!)

*** If I'm away too much the kids start acting out, and no amount of money is enough to compensate me for a tantrumming Etta.  So if I can avoid pushing them to this point as much as I can then I will.  It makes us all happier in the long run.

**** What my brain will probably actually realise is that if I want to live in pyjamas I have to continue to appear like someone who doesn't actually sleep.  So maybe it'll just have that realisation and that'll be it.  The rest of my brain will be dedicated to raising the kids, crafting Excel spreadsheets and splicing and creating new roses.  In my pyjamas.  Of course.

On why I haven't blogged in aaaaaaaaaaaaages.

ADVANCE WARNING: This post is written for my own gain - not anyone elses.  So please read if you like, but it's a bit meh.

Catch up blogs are lame.

But sometimes necessary.  In this instance I'm hoping it gives me a little impetus to start writing again.  I have several unfinished posts hiding in folders unpublished, but am having difficulty finishing them because I'm having difficulty thinking real good.  Which is why it's been almost two months since my last post.  Which makes me sad.

I'm just feeling worn out.

Since I last posted I have:
- Gone back to work part time at our local Stevens
- Been a contestant on Family Feud

Me dick dancing in the soundproof booth with fancy make up on.

Both of which have been awesome but challenging experiences and I hope to blog about both soon.

The thing that's been the clincher to not posting is that I actually had/have the flu. 

'So what?' says you.  Well, I never get the flu.  Like, literally.  I often get a little bit of a bug for a couple of days, but I don't actually think I've been properly sick for this long since I was a teenager. 

I think my immune system is screwed.  I've been on two lots of antibiotics for other ailments before I even got proper sick - and one of those ailments seems to be back.  And it's painful and tiring and makes me just want to hide in a hole eating cheese and crying alone.  Because currently it literally hurts to be hugged.  It just seems to be one thing after another - never serious, but enough to be exhausting.  And on top of that I have the flu.  Which is the congested sinuses, awful cough, difficulty breathing, sore throat flu that everyone in West Auckland seems to have.  It's awful.

And what doesn't help is being a Mum.  Pre-Mumming if I did happen to get a bit crook I could do this magical thing called 'sleeping' and that would help get me on the path to wellness pretty quick.  These days I have these things called 'children' and - although I know this isn't true - it seems like they actively conspire to plan their naps and nights so that I can never sleep.*  They seem to take turns at not sleeping.  And while I'm glad that it means at least one of them is sleeping it means that, nonetheless, I am not.

Actual sick me sans make up.  And Etta

And not sleeping does not help me get better.  And it makes it harder to get to the Drs because juggling kids plus tired plus outing = impossible.  And the biggest pro of going to work currently is that - even though I'm not sleeping - I get more rest there than I do at home.  Sick days?  Why would I do that to myself? 

Conversations at home:
'Mum, why is R2 putting C3PO's foot back on?'
'Because it got cut off somehow and R2 is a fixing droid thing'
'Why is R2 a fixing droid?'
'Ask your Dad'
'But R2 was laughing at C3PO - why is he helping now'
'Because he's his friend and it's good to help your friends.'
'But why?  How did his foot come off?'
'I honestly don't know Etta.  Sorry'
'Mama Mama Mama Mama MAMA''..... {sigh}....'

Conversations at work:
'Do you have any bottle openers?'
'Yes.  They're right here, and are currently on a half price special.'


Work is just easier.

Don't get me wrong - I love my kids.  But when I feel like I struggle to manage my own wellbeing it is hard to be a parent.

I read this and it basically says: 'I'm so not used to being sick that being sick is way hard.' and 'Being a parent sucks'.  Both of which are totally true - but I can't see these statements and not think about people having things way worse.  Like, parents who are properly sick.  Or parents of kids that are often sick - or are really really sick.  Or single parents.  Or parents without the support networks I have.  Or homeless parents.  Or full-time working parents. 

And I know many people in these situations.  I think they are all fucking heroes.

I wish I could sit with my inability to manage simple things and be ok with it.  I think that is heroic too.  But I can't.  I know it's just my anxiety being a douche - but that knowledge doesn't make it any easier.  And the energy I expend on this equally doesn't help with the exhaustion and probably not the illness either.

Sigh.

Anyway.  One thing which is making me feel better is writing this.  I feel massive guilt when I'm not writing.  I think it's in part because I went to art school and feel like I need to at least be doing something creative.  But in fact, the bigger part is that I have so many things I want to say.  I have so many thoughts in my brain.  But they are transitory and impermanent - especially these post-kid days where my baby brain seems to be permanent.  They are there, and then lost.  And I'm always sure they're important.  Whether they are or not is moot really, but that feeling of not saying something important when you should is another thing that weighs on me.

And I feel a little lighter now

* Which is really counter intuitive if you ask me.  

Some things I never expected I'd do as a parent before I was a parent

1) That I'd ever co-sleep with a baby

Let alone every night for the first six months!

I have never been against co-sleeping.  But my anxiety made me so paranoid about SIDS and having read co-sleeping could be a factor* I never even considered it as an option.  So when I had Etta I didn't even consider it.  But she was a fairly 'normal' baby.

But then along came Abby...
Even that first (and only) night in hospital she slept on her stomach on my chest because her breathing was so ragged.  But then it was the night after that, and then the night after that.  Because Abby would not sleep unless she was touching another human.  Not even for naps.  Once you get a reflux/colicy/unhappy baby that doesn't sleep (and just cries) you will literally do ANYTHING for sleep.  Not that co-sleeping was conducive to sleep for me**.  The reason it took six months to stop co-sleeping was because I was too sleep deprived to have enough brain to formulate a plan to stop co-sleeping.

Post kids my theory on co-sleeping is: do what you gotta (or wanna) do.

2) That I wouldn't want to return to work
I hated being pregnant.  I hated it SO MUCH.  And before I was even pregnant I knew I'd hate it because I've always associated pregnancy with this image:

So while I really did want to be a Mum, I was super looking forward to get that baby out of there.   And based on my knowledge about myself I assumed I'd want to take that tiny amount of PPL time then promptly return to work.  I'd  leave my offspring in the hands of someone better equipped (someone ECE trained) to look after them than myself (someone with ZERO childcare experience).

What I didn't (and couldn't) know was that once that tiny human was out I wouldn't want to leave them.  Not after four months, and barely even at 12 months.  Not even with people I trusted.  I did return to part time work when Etta was 11 months old, but only because we needed the money and I was offered a job I knew I liked.  And while I did enjoy it, I swiftly realised there was NO WAY I could do it full time.  The few things I missed in those few hours away were too many.  And while my kids drive me totally nuts on a daily basis I also learn so much from them.  I just can't imagine being apart from them regularly for 8+ hours at a stretch.

Consequently, applying for a job post-partum has been terrifying.  I have other priorities now.  I feel like a fraud even sitting through job interviews.  Will I put my heart and soul into this position?  Truthfully, no.  Even if it were my dream job, it's just not possible.  This is why I've chosen to apply for simple, no brain needed part time jobs where I just have to turn up, do my work, and go.  I can't commit any more than that right now.

And while I'm about to return to work part-time and am kind of excited about a little more grown up time, I'm doing it for the family unit: things are tight.  Me working will mean less financial stress in the house, less pressure on Murray, more savings and more options for the kids.  Research also shows that daughters of working Mums are more likely to be 'successful' in their careers***.  These are the reasons I'm returning to work.  But I'd truly rather be at home.

3) That I'd no longer want to make art

And not just because I wanted to spend ALL of my spare time catching up on sleep.

When Etta was wee I occasionally had time and space and brain and would sit down to write poetry (usually with a publication/brief in mind for inspiration) and nothing happened.  Well, sometimes I'd write some words and then delete them.  Then write some more words and delete them.  All the words that flowed from my brain to the keyboard felt trite.  They still do.  Currently, poetry is dead to me.  At the end of last year I was actually invited to contribute some work to a publication.  This doesn't happen these days because I'm pretty out of the loop.  Nevertheless, it did.  I was flattered.  And still, I couldn't do it.  Every time I sat down with the intention of writing it just felt like it would be dishonest.

I can't put things out into the world I don't believe in.  And I know I sound like a jerk saying this but I feel as if nothing I can create now can compare with the little people that literally came out of my body.  I feel like perhaps like the writer feels who has published their 'great' novel - what can follow after? 

I have been able to follow through on some small art projects like the 30 Day Painting Challenge.  But I managed this by making it an activity which required little thought, was quite abstract, and still kidcentric.  I can knit blankets and toys, but I can't design complex articles.  I can 'draw', but not paint. I can write stuff like this, but not poetry.  I can't commit.

How can something like Attack of the Karate Devils (even if it's pretty fucking cool)...

I don't want to feel like this but I do.  I know that in part it'll be due to post pregnancy brain stuff and I am sure that one day it'll pass.  But it's hard.  I feel a huge sense of failure when other artists/writers/creative friends (of which I have many) as what I'm up to (creatively) and there's nothing.  And I can't explain this block in any way that makes me sound like I'm not:
a) a crazy Mum
b) an alien residing inside the shell of their former friend
c) a total arsehole.

Because saying 'I made some kids so now I don't want to make art' does sound like an arsehole thing to say.  I don't want to invalidate what my friends do.  Especially when, in fact, I greatly admire what they do.  In particular my friends who also have children but also maintain some sort of creative practice.  I'm sure I'm not the only person who's ever felt this way.  This concept was alluded to in Are You My Mother by Alison Bechdel which was a huge relief.  I'm not alone in this.  I think.

...ever compare with these two?

4) That I'd come to love The Mall

We live about a 25 minute walk from our local Westfield.  Which is about a 4 minute drive in 'regular' people terms.  Pre-kids I was not the biggest fan of malls.  I am a cheap bastard.  I shop at Pak 'n' Save, asian grocers and op shops and almost never buy anything not on sale.  I also studied design.  I love hand crafted unique items.  I love going to craft fairs and markets.  I agree we should all try and buy locally made.

But once I became a Mum I realised malls were actually some kind of haven:
- they are temperature controlled
- they are sheltered
- they are pram accessible
- they have playgrounds INSIDE them
- they have parents rooms (with MICROWAVES even)
- their toilets are pretty clean
- I don't have to clean anything there

Because I have long been an advocate for, and user of public transport I don't have a car during the day.  So if I wanted to get out of the house to remain sane with my baby my options to do so were fairly limited - particularly on days where the weather was especially hot or wet or changeable (Auckland).  But the bus stop is a three minute walk from our house.  And the mall is a five minute bus journey from that bus stop.  Consequently, I started frequenting the mall about once a week.

And I'm still a cheap bastard.  The thing about the mall is you don't have to buy stuff.  You can just hang out.  A regular mall trip with the kids involves the following 'fun' things:
- the bus trip there ($1.80 with Hop card.  SO MUCH FUN)
- running around Farmers laughing at the mannequins
- playing on the playground in the mall (free) OR
- playing in the parents room (also free)
- getting an icecream in a cup from McDonalds ($1.40 for two)
- picking up any random between-grocery-shops items we need from Countdown
- the bus trip home ($1.80 with Hop card. SLIGHTLY LESS FUN)
Total cost of a few hours out of the house to maintain/regain sanity = $5

And there's a 'Monty Morning' once a month which not only has people there who do some kind of activity with your kid but you also get a free coffee voucher!  And they have fun stuff to do during the school holidays for your kids - including decorating plant pots.  Both my basil and my chives came from a mall kid activity.  And guess what?  They were FREE.

Yes.  Malls are evil and mass marketing and consumer culture is bad and subliminal messaging and hurty lighting and I'm a slave to the machine and No Logo and stuff.

But who can pass up free air-con, shelter, playgrounds occasional childcare and coffee?
Not this cheap bastard that's for sure!

5) That I'd have a kid fixated on a mall mascot

Meet Monty.  He likes children, and holding masks of himself.

This is what happens when you give up your morals for free coffee.  Honestly, Monty The Monkey is my 3 year old's best friend.  He's like her imaginary friend only based on something real.  Well, something as real as a mall mascot.  They have some pretty amazing imaginary adventures - like that time he took her to the banana movie.  And Monty's always switching the words around in nursery rhymes.  He's such a laugh that Monty!  And he's easily accessible by pretend phone call on our (not plugged in) big old fashioned hand set.  Very handy!

Not only that, but 'real' Monty remembers her birthday every year (thanks to good database management), and even gets her a present (thanks to the business relationship between Westfield and Crayola)!  She can go visit him at the mall and ask him a bunch of random questions like: 'Where do you sleep at night time?' and 'Monty, do you have a penis?' (true story).  And he gives her furry cuddles and his minder gives her lollipops.  What's not to like?  Can totally see why ANY kid would love this mascot as much as she does.

Do I feel guilty because this is pretty much my fault?  Yes.  Will I deter her from this?  Nope.  She's happy.  It's understandable.  Free coffee.

*Surface read, not a proper read.  Obviously.

** By this stage I was over my SIDS paranoia - I just really suck at sleeping next to other humans.  Big or small.  I'm a very light sleeper.  And I need a sleep routine to get to sleep.  Every night.

*** Just so you know, these are not the markers I associate with success.  For me happiness equals success rather than money or status.  But if me working gives the girls confidence to strive for what they want generally, surely (I hope) that means a higher chance of happiness.  If not, at least they'll know women can go to work and men can look after children - cos that's what'll be happening while I'm working.  Dads are parents too ya'll!