A quick catch up...

I've finally come to the conclusion that mothering, full time work, and blogging can't coexist in my universe. Until I am in a position to blog more regularly (and I want to be!) I will just have to be satisfied with a monthly update. So, since it is now May, here is one for March....

In March, Daddy had been home for about two weeks. We were starting to settle in as a family again, and Baby and Daddy had re-bonded and were ecstatic in each other's company.

We spent most weekends doing family things: a trip to the wildlife park:

We walked up my favourite hill:

We went to a very dear friend's wedding and had another very dear friend take a family portrait:

And we had a slightly-belated-but-no-less-important first birthday party:

A girlfriend had my camera for the day and, despite assuring me that it was completely unintentional, the majority of the birthday shots feature either my rear end or a good look down my dress - Mr Awesome thinks the photos are great! This is one of the better ones.

And finally, I couldn't leave without the addition of a gratuitous Archie photo:

Happy March!

The Childcare Debate

The biggest hurdle for me returning to work was finding a decent childcare spot for baby. Someplace that will love and cherish her almost as much as I do. I thought this was a total pipedream.

Part time work was not an option for me - there has to be someone in the role full time, and there is no one in a similar situation with whom I can job share. This means baby is in care for a minimum of nine hours a day, longer if I get caught up with something urgent and can't get away. That's a minimum total of 45 hours a week, or 52% of her normal waking hours.

It kills me that she will be brought up during her most formative years by someone who isn't her Mummy. What if she isn't loved enough? What if she doesn't receive enough affection? What if there isn't enough guidance and discipline, or even worse, too much? What if she thinks I have deserted her entirely?  How do I tell if she likes the food I send? How do I know she is eating enough? What if the carer is the panicking type, and can't manage an emergency? What if a tropical cyclone comes in while I'm at work and sweeps my baby off to Oz? I have lain awake for many nights rolling these questions over like heavy mind stones.

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.