Yebo Gogga

Silk worm season is in full swing! This is marked by the trail of mothers making the trek to the closest Mulberry tree each afternoon to feed these critters. It is amazing how much joy and fear such tiny things can bring. I was alerted yesterday morning by a blood curdling scream from my domestic worker, "It's escaping ...". Hurtling down the stairs to find one of the silk worms has climbed out the box in search of some leaves on the lid. Now anyone that has attended school or has boys knows, you know that the biggest mistake you can make is to show any degree of fear for anything in their power. The look in my boys eyes of pure excitement when they realised that the scream was not from anything life threatening but has the potential to terrorize. My 2 year old immediately picked up the escapee and proceeded to chase my maid around the house shouting Whaaaa and pretending to throw the worm at her. I have never seen anyone so happy to see the end of a workday.
I learnt many years ago that no reaction elicits no joy and they move on rather quickly (I learnt some years on that it equaled gal pal and not girlfriend too, but let's not deviate). This has stood me in good stead as a boy mom but sometimes they catch you unaware. My 2 year old has picked up on this and is becoming too good at the casual. Last week I give him his lunch, he says thanks and very casually "here mom" handing me something, without thinking I take it, expecting a stone, leaf, toy or some snot; no no the random object starts wriggling and as I open my hand it flies up at me and away. I shout in fright and drop all I am holding. Recovering, all I see is this naughty naked cherub doubled over with laughter. I still have no idea what it was.
I felt after this I was wiser to his capacity for mischief but was not prepared for the pure excitement of bugs to land in my lap. Sitting outside on the road supposedly watching the kids riding bikes, actually engrossed in my FB newsfeed, somewhere in distance hearing rumblings about snails but not paying much attention, until, a large slimy snail gets plonked onto my iPad screen, coupled with squeals of snail mom, snail. Joyful, thank you, having just read about being grateful for any gift your child gives you.
My oldest is less intrigued by smaller crawlers but super stoked by larger reptilian kind. I regularly indulge this, so it was time for our holiday outing to the crocodile farm. A place where he gets to hold baby crocodiles, a range of snakes, some dragons and a few others. But refuses to hold the Tarantula. The 2 year old quite the opposite would not hold the croc or snake but allowed this arachnid full reign. This trip had some extra treats in that we got to watch a few feedings. The pythons whom rarely move from what seems like a constant slumber are rather quick to strike at a chicken (Roadtrip movie highlights flashing through my brain, a time before my channels entered the 300's). While all the other kids look at crocs and move onto the play area, my eldest spends the entire time just watching these large reptiles. At least this time we got to see a feeding and some vigorous croc mating to keep mom entertained.
This last week has increased my fear that one day it won't just be an ice-cream tub of silk worms but a snake in a cage and a Tarantula in a box, and I am positive that my domestic will not stick around.  

"Today was my best day"

"Today was my best day", these were the words of my son tonight in bed after his 5th birthday party. This has been a long awaited party. My oldest has a very one tracked mind, he plans ahead for events, looking at each aspect and discussing ways to get each dream to be a reality. His birthday is of course the big event of the year. For the past 2 months (would have been longer but mommy may have gone bonkers), each day we look at the calender count sleeps to his birthday, then go through how the day will pan out. "We will wake up, open presents from Mom, Dad and brother, then we will have breakfast flap jacks stacked up with a candle on and sing happy birthday, then we will play with the new presents, put brother to sleep and rest, pack car and go to firestation, we will set up tables, then friends will arrive, we will play for a bit, then go slide down the fire pole, ride in fire engine, spray the water, then blow candles out and cut the cake, then play a bit more, then friends will go and we will give them party packs, then go home and open all my presents". Yes, we did this everyday and sometimes more than once. Included in this is his birthday wish list. He loves catalogues, he will pour over them for weeks, if you want to treat him just bring the latest lego or ToysRUs catalogue home and he is in heaven. From these and numerous trips to various shops he develops his wishlist. It is comprehensive and specific, grandparents are allocated the gift that he would like from them. You would think that it would change often as he saw new items, but no, once he has decided nothing else will budge his choice. This leaves us in a mad scramble to try get the exact make model and colour to try fulfill his wish.
This may sound like what a brat, you get what you get and be grateful. I would normally agree but as with everything it comes down to how he handles the situation. This morning he looked for the present that was what he asked for, with a huge smile he and a thank you thank you thank you it makes it worthwhile. The present that wasn't exactly to his specifications, got a Thank you I love this one and I know you tried to get the Spiderman one.
My concern this year was sibling rivalry issue, how is the 2 year old going to be, and is the birthday boy going to go into selfish mine mine mine mode. I was floored, my 2 year old grabs a present and starts ripping at the wrapping, my heart was sinking because don't want to ruin this pleasant day, birthday boy turns and says " it's ok if he opens some, just show me what it is when it is open". This demonstration of tolerance was tested and again shocked me to the core when his brother took the gap and blew out the candles during the second hooray. I stopped breathing for a second, waiting for the complete ass collapse, when all was quiet we quickly relit them and he blew them all out.
After a full afternoon of activity and festivity we got home and our house turned into a tsunami of toys and still peace in the land. I quickly put 2 year old in bed. Lying in bed with the birthday boy debriefing, he says he loved everything, getting wet with the hose was not his fabourite but it was fine. He says he got everything he wanted and it was the best day!
It is days like these, when your kids are perfect that make you want to give them the world with a cherry on top. I love making what happens in their head happen in life. The months of planning, the annoying daily mantra about his birthday plans, everytime he has asked for a toy, everytime he has hit his brother, every rude remark he has made just gets washed away. Today was my best day too!

The Curse of the Mommy

Got a WhatsApp from friend saying she was of to do some "me shopping". Sent back appropriate emoticon and thought nothing more. Then pics start coming through of cute baby grows, baby shoes and the cool new boys range. I had to laugh as she has The Curse of the Mommy. It is so hard to switch off. I go to shops to get my self a new top for the dinner function on the weekend, come back with 3 new t-shirts for each boy and some new pajama's with a cape, and no top for me. It is not exclusive to the retail environment. Many times I am driving alone in the car and randomly shout out "Digger", then embarrassed and relieved that no one can hear, or worse is only adults in car who think the crazy chick next to me is strangely excited by Fire engines, Dump trucks and double decker buses. Before I had kids, I was driving with a manager, she suddenly phoned home and told her son that she saw a blue Subaru that he loves. I thought this was very random until I got caught by the curse.
Many book club discussions have yielded the hypothesis that Dad's for the majority don't suffer The Daddy Curse and may even find The Mommy Curse an irritation, and visa versa. They don't take every opportunity to spend every waking moment about the kids. I have to arrange specific Mommy Breaks to get away. Joined a book club to unashamedly drink wine mid week, grab a spa opportunity when it comes, and ditch the kids with Nana to go grocery shopping alone (sadly this is considered a mommy break, very unglamorous).

I try give my antenatal class mommies a sense of it. They are worried about what work will do without them for 4 months, should they do a course during maternity leave so not to waste it. I try get them to ensure they have plan B and C in place for if they don't want to return to work. This is scoffed at, work is my life and shall never be replaced. 4 months later replaced by tears of not wanting to return.

I call it a curse because despite our moans and groans we would not give it up for anything or anyone. All it takes is your 2 year old to bring you a leaf and rock, " I picked these for you mommy".

Real world stay away from my kids

Driving to school is the best time for me, kids talk non stop and I love to hear what is rattling around in those brains. Sometimes it is mindless chatter about Ben 10 aliens or the many Diggers and Dumpers driving past. Today was one of those days that made me sad about the world. I am a positive optimistic mom and person, I had thoughts of the end of the world this morning. This is how conversation went: " mom, I am never going to have kids" " Yes you will, one day you will be an adult and have kids of your own." " I need a girl to help me have kids" " Yes you do, but you will meet a nice girl that you love and she will help you have kids." " No, she will leave" " I dont think so, you will love eachother and get married like mom and Dad." " But sometimes even if you love the girl she will leave ..." " sometimes". I did not kow how to respond to this so I chose silence, he saved me, " lets rather talk about what we going o do in the holidays" " What a good idea!".

I much prefer the story of the prince saving the princess from the castle and they live happily ever after. I forget sometimes that these kids are exposed daily to divorce, separation and worse, and how it impacts them. In some ways the fact that a 5 year old has emotional maturity to grasp this is amazing, evolution, but I would prefer headless running around laughing!

Watching my son playing soccer, 2/3 of team have one parent standing on one side of the field and the other on the other-side. Each holding a juice and a treat. The whistle blows and the kid is torn, not wanting to choose either parent. To quote Ellen: "Love your kids more than you hate your ex". I want to shout this at the parents but I know I cant judge. I want to put my kid in a happy bubble.

Will the happy bubble fail to prepare them for the world, or will the reality bubble start the end of our society where this generation won't want to bring more kids into this world to protect themselves and the unborn. For now I am going to let my boys lead me, hoping there is more talk about Phineas and Ferb adventures than real ones.

The sprinkles on my Sundae are wrong

Do you worry how happy your kids are. This is a constant in my life. It is also one of my biggest disillusions about parenthood. I have played with kids my entire life and I really believed kids were ultimately happy. I saw the kids throwing tantrums in shops and fighting with siblings but I really thought this was the odd occasion. I was wrong! I do believe I have set the bar on my kids happiness too high, but as a naturally happy person I was sure that adding the fact that my kids were kids it would be constant happy.
What I was not expecting is life of persistent fighting them to do things. In my head, kids bounced into the car, ran excitedly to school, super hyped about a party and would run around constantly playing games and causing mischief. What I did not realise is that all these activities can be preceded by a suitcase full of anxiety.
My oldest is far more anxious than I am geared for. Something like bike day at school, which I would think would be so exciting, can cause a sleepless night, followed by school refusal, having to pull him off me sobbing when the bell rings. Ultimately it was the super fun but the slight change in routine and fear of the unknown and unexpected definitely impacts on the full experience.
These events of course lead down the path of self blame and guilt over being the less than perfect parent. What am I doing wrong that he does not run off shouting for joy about being alive.
Now that I am no longer seeing kids through Emerald City green glasses, I have noticed I am not alone. It is comforting in some ways but also distressing at the same time. I see how stressed everyone is majority of the time and this must be feeding down to our kids. Moms trying to be a stay at home mom while running a business from her smart phone, Dad working harder so mom can do both and still afford our lifestyle. I read articles about bringing up happy kids and for the most part doing it, but is it enough?
I wake up in morning saying that I am not going to shout today, kids going to get undivided attention and I am going to be a picture of inner peace and calm. "I don't want pancakes anymore I want toast" "That shirt itches me" "I can't walk myself, carry me" "I wanted to put my seatbelt on myself" "What have you planned for today" "That's boring" "Ummphh" "You did not answer me first" "You only do things for my brother" "I wanted that one" "I wanted the blue cup".Inner peace is replaced by crazy mommy tantrum.
I still strive everyday to make that the happiest, most memorable day of my kids life. Some days I get closer to the unreachable than others.

She has milk in her Boobs!

"She has milk in her boobs" A comment I have heard a few times in my life. As a midwife, mom and friend my view on breastfeeding is not a secret. I try stick to my pro choice about everything in life but on this topic I find it difficult. Yesterday my son of near 5 ran up to a friend of mine that was feeding her baby. He went to lift the blanket to see the baby and say hello. Immediately I said wait she is feeding him, not because I did not want my son to see but because I was not sure how the mom felt about it. And of course little boys comments have little tact, " He is drinking milk from her Boob", with that naughty, I think this might be rude giggle. Then he ran off to go play.
This got me thinking to a few of my experiences and how I felt about. One that sticks out is sitting at my in laws house, off to the room to feed baby; because public feeding makes others uncomfortable; my niece asked if she could help, she runs to the kitchen to fetch a bottle, confused that I dont have any she follows me to the room. She sits quietly next to me just watching, I am waiting to answer the questions that I can see spinning through her brain, she gets up and says she just needs to tell her mom something. I hear her announce to the lounge that "she has milk in her boobs".
When it was time for baby number 2, I thought best to do some research on how to handle the topic with your toddler. The advice ranged from letting your toddler resume breastfeeding and dual feed to only bottle feed the 2 to avoid the uncomfortable topic. So advice was no use, I thought I would just wait and see what happend. It started off as mild interest, sometimes jealousy, then intense need to know. What does the milk taste like? I expressed some into a cup for him and it was met with a Ugggh that is yuck with a I just poisoned him face, sometimes jealousy, can I drink from your boobs? My choice on this topic was NO! You have had your turn. Then there is the ever funny and I have great video footage of the breast pump attached to his boob and he trying desparately to extract some milk for his brother, his 21st is going to be so much fun. Ultimately he found feeding time either boring or a time when mom can sit and build puzzles, lego or read books as she has 2 hands and her boobs can stretch in all sorts of directions. The baby of course goes into monkey mode, hanging on for dear life so as not to lose out.
I loved breast feeding my kids, it was hard at times, I moaned sometimes but when it came to weaning my youngest I felt so sad, he was ready a while before I was. I cried the day he took the bottle willing from me and never asked again.

Dumping the Dummy and bottle

We were having coffee at Jungle Junkies, a kiddies play area, and we got to chatting about our kids removal of dummies and bottles. My favourite of the day was one mom that tied her child's dummy to the bed by a long string, allowing access just into the TV room, then slowly shortened the string until the child was having to lie in bed, lift up for a few sucks, then lie down again until she gave up on the idea completely. Some sad tales of the little ones stealing dolls plastic dummies and hiding in corner to give it a few sucks.
This got me thinking back about my eldest, a great but sad day. He gave up his dummy at 9 months on his own, but after weaning got really attached to his bottles. A few months after my 2nd son was born I tried unsuccessfully to remove the bottle. After 3 days of all of us crying I gave it back, to try another time. About 6 months after that my son came to me asking for a Duplo fireman set. He said that he really needed it. My evil mom saw this as an opportunity. I explained very carefully that mom and dad had no money left, so the only option was to use bottles to buy the fireman. He thought about this and decided No, not worth it. A few weeks later he came to me and said he was ready, he really needed the fireman. Calm on the outside, jumping for joy inside and full of trepidation knowing that this time regardless I had to follow through. I said no problem, after school next day we will go to the Lego shop and buy the fireman with the bottles. We discussed it in bed that night while he was drinking, ensuring he understood his decision, yes he needed the fireman. The next morning he came to me and asked if he could have 1 last bottle please before we go. With a tear in my eye, I made him the final bottle. He took it to his room, lay on his bed and savoured every moment down to the last drop. He then gathered all the bottles, gave them to our cleaner, asked her to please wash them nicely for him as he was going to buy a fireman with them after school. At this point, it was taking all my power not to burst into tears and tell him it was alright he can keep them and get the fireman.
I fetched him from school, bottles clean in a packet, ready, Not! We drove to the Lego shop where I again confirmed he understands that this means he can no longer have a bottle, he assured me he knows. He ran to the Lego shop, grabbed his Fireman box, ran to the till, handed his packet of bottles over. The staff at the shop were amazing, without blinking she took the bottles, rang up the fireman, put it in a packet and gave it to him. This beaming exited child popped his packet in the pram and went to play at the tables. I gladly slipped the assistant my credit card, she carefully hid bottles in a different packet and slipped them under all bags in the pram.
That night expecting the worst, bedtime came, a slight tear from my son, but clutching his fireman he went to sleep. He never asked for his bottles again. I was so proud of him, I still get teary thinking about how much he loved something, but when it was time to move on, he did, with maturity, appropriate mourning, a smile.