Rack off, lady!

I don't think anyone should pass judgement on how long mothers choose to breastfeed. It's just one of those personal decisions that is soley between you and your baby.

So I was pretty ticked off when I had a discussion with a woman from work and she chose to adopt an attitude of disbelief that I was still breastfeeding baby when she was a whole eleven months old. I also had the audacity to admit that I would probably still be feeding her in three months. Oh the shame!

I am very comfortable in my decision to keep feeding baby as long as she wants it, as long as it doesn't become wierd. If she is still feeding when she is thinking about going off to uni, I may have let it go on a little too long. But if your baby is still young enough to have her age measured in months and not have it sound silly, she is definitely still young enough to breastfeed!

The woman was tasked with finding people to send away for a kind of jury duty. People were randomly selected and then she had a very specific list of questions to determine our suitability for the role. One of these questions was "Will any member of your family suffer hardship if you are required to be away for the duration of the trial?" When I explained the breastfeeding, she then asked me a whole bunch of really personal, aggressive questions about timings of feeds, and how I manage it with work. She acted like she was trying to catch me out. Seriously, who would lie about something like that on the spur of the moment? It would take me hours to think up an excuse that good! The worst thing was, she has a grown son of her own.

She still has the power to send me away if she chooses to, but I doubt she has factored in my determined streak.

Nine years ago I made the decision to sign my life over to work - they control where I live, who I live with, the type of house I live in, and what state and town I work in, and then they pull me away from these living arrangements for long, relatively unannounced periods. But I never signed over Baby's life. My work was not her decision, and I have a duty to do the best I can to protect her from the upheaval that comes with the job. And I will be damned if I let one judgemental person decide when I stop breastfeeding my child!

So rack off lady, these breasts are not heading west. 

Time Management

“Don’t say you don’t have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Michelangelo, Mother Teresa, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson and Albert Einstein”

- H. Jackson Brown

But Helen Keller, Mother Teresa, Michelangeo and da Vinci never married or had kids.

And although Einstein and Jefferson married and had children, Einstein left his to run off with his cousin, and Jefferson had slaves to wash all his progeny's nappies.

So, Mr Brown, although I love your Life's Little Instruction Book, perhaps instructions on how to cook dinner, iron tomorrow's work clothes and put a baby to bed simultaneously would be more useful. Maybe you can write me an instructable.

Kind regards,

TAH

Christmas Fairy

We had a fabulous Christmas.

I set my mind to it, and made it happen.

There were speedbumps to this fabulosity (is that a word?). There were bound to be - 10 days with the in-laws, a week with my mum, and five seperate flights with a baby, luggage, stroller and portacot in tow. Mixing relatives, especially some as whacky as mine, is always fraught with risk.

I carefully ignored all the problems.

Instead I focused on the good stuff.  Trips to the zoo. Trips to the beach. Trips to the park. Shopping. Christmas cake and chocolate. Trips to see Santa.

This was the only photo where Santa had his eyes open and Baby was looking towards the camera. And is this is the best, you can imagine the worst....

I think she looks like a little boy.

Perhaps this should be the Official 2009 Accidental Family Christmas Image instead.

It's very fitting, gracefully capturing the moment of Baby dragging every last thing out of my purse.

Again.

I love it!

Merry Christmas!

Dear you,

Merry Christmas! Thanks for dropping by, your support and comments during the year have never failed to make me smile.

I will be travelling over Christmas, doing the rounds of Australia visiting family.

Because I will be off having heaps of fun in real life, I will be giving this blog a little break of it's own.

I hope you have a fabulous holiday season. See you in the new year!

Happy Anniversary Mr Accident!

So, what's a girl to do when her handsome husband is far, far away on their wedding anniversary?

Why, make a husband-on-a-stick, of course.

Just a few minutes with an old picture, a decent colour printer, some cardboard and clear contact paper, tape it onto some old scrap wood and voila - a poor substitute for the real deal!

Baby thought it was pretty funny.

After she had a good look, and checked it really was a picture of her Daddy, she puckered up and practiced her smooching.

Her baby smooches can be a little... enthusiastic. And quite often they involve the occasional tooth mark and a healthy helping of slobber. I was glad I covered the picture in plastic. I think she has been getting kissing tips from the dogs.


Speaking of dogs, someone wasn't too enthusiastic about the new addition to the house.

After a thorough warning bark, and some manly, nervous prancing, Archie gave up and took refuge in the coffee table.

He is a terrible pansy. Not only is he afraid of disembodied owners, but balloons, feather dusters and Christmas lights. It's a hard life for a dog.

My friends threw me a BBQ in honour of the day. Of course I took husband-on-a-stick.

It was in public.

With people we knew walking past.

I propped him up and he watched the whole thing. And I made him kiss me, too.  I am actually amazed I have friends who love me regardless of my antics.

These same long suffering friends brought me a massive bunch of beautiful flowers and an awesome present, too. It was a "Meet Me At Mike's" craft book, stuffed full of creative ideas that made me want to make Every Single Thing in the book immediately.

When I opened the book I noticed a lot of post-it notes. One of my friends had gone through the book and tagged all the things she wants as presents from me in the near future. I suspect the gift was not entirely altruistic!

I'm so glad I don't need friends-on-a-stick, too.

Nienie

In other news, this is by far the most beautiful photo I have seen today. If you don't already read Nienie, drop by. You won't regret it.

Photo from Nienie Dialogues

Fashion folly

I admit it, I slipped into new mum fashion land. My wardrobe mainly consisted of tshirts, jeans and baggy shorts.

The truth is I had been there for a long while before I was pregnant, too. I spent so much time in a uniform at work that when the weekend finally rolled around I just wanted to be comfortable. I would go into a cheap chain store a couple of times a year and buy a few new tshirts, or replace my jeans when they became too worn, and that was it.

Having so much time off work this year really brought my wardrobe woes into stark relief. It came to a head when I took Baby to a play centre, and was by far the worst dressed person there. I didn't receive any dirty looks but I was thoroughly ignored.  (In my defence, I had just been to Bunnings Hardware and lugged dirty bags of sand, and the clientele of the centre that day all seemed to be members of the popped collars and pearls brigade. But still...)

So I cleaned out my wardrobe.  I waited until Baby was asleep then tried on every single item of clothing that I owned. I made two piles: flattering, and non flattering. It didn't matter if it was gym gear or a silk dress, if it didn't fit well, or was too worn or stained, it was out. This left me with about three shirts, a dress, my new jeans and a pair of shorts. Since it takes a full day for clothes to dry in this humidity, this was clearly not going to be sufficient!

Having all my clothes laid out also allowed me to take stock of my clothing habits. Although I favour a clean cut, slightly preppy look, this was not reflected in my clothes. I also noticed that I am far more likely to wear out a tshirt than stain or tear it - clearly I could look after my clothes, and the overall shabby look was coming from the cheap fabric, not my garment care.

It only took a couple of hours at the shops to restock my wardrobe. Although it was almost an automatic response to head to the same cheap chain stores and repeat my previous folly, I resisted. The clothes I bought were not expensive in the Gucci / Prada / Ralph sense of the word, but they were not cheap and nasty, either.

I chose a lovely linen shirt that will improve and soften with washing, which is lucky, as I'm sure Baby will take advantage. I also picked out a nice silk shirt. Although this one is hand wash, it is amazingly cool in the tropical heat and actually quite easy to launder - I've already done it twice (thanks Baby!) I added a couple more cotton, collared shirts and a new cotton dress. I tried to pick out clothes that were less casual than a tshirt, but didn't scream "repurposed work wear" and I think I mostly succeeded.

Since the cleanout, I have already noticed the change in people's attitude when they meet me. I didn't change my demeanour in any way, I just changed my clothes. I now get more smiles, more doors opened and more polite responses from shop keepers. I went back to the play centre and people approached me just to chat. A cleaner, neater type of person struck up a conversation with me at Baby Rhyme Time. This could all be a gross coincidence, but I doubt it. I now feel that I portray externally the way I feel inside, and it's a very comfortable feeling. I recommend it!