Trust Yourself.

You may remember this post. About the Mommy Groups. And while I still belong to the chosen few on Facebook, and several more on Whatsapp, I am getting more and more frustrated by some of the content I see.

Since when did someones elses opinion trump your own gut instinct? Daily, my feeds across all the socials are flooded with questions such as “My child fell off the bed, is bleeding from every orifice, has stopped breathing, and has turned blue. What should I do, mommies? LOL!”

DROP YOUR PHONE. GET HIM IN YOUR VEHICLE, AND TAKE HIM TO THE FUCKING EMERGENCY ROOM.

Well, that should be the answer. Instead, other moms from far flung corners of the earth reply with ‘well, how much is he bleeding’ or ‘shame mommy, I’m starting a healing prayer chain for you’.

Then when matters don’t call for alarmed reactions, more like some common sense, moms everywhere terrify the bejeezus out of other moms with answers to comments of “My nanny told me she likes apples, and I also like apples. Do you think she wants to kill me and steal my identity?”

“Yes. Your nanny is going to murder you in your sleep”.

Surely, as mother to said child who is now on the verge of death, or the worried mum who fears she may find herself organ-less in an ice bath in a matter of hours, should know best? Tell me you don’t believe that the opinion (of generally well intentioned) strangers trumps trusting your gut?

Now, before you lambaste me, understand that there is very much a need for these sort of groups. I derive immense value in a lot of the commentary, and will often ask a question of my own. (As an example, during the recent heatwave – I was glued to the groups in the hopes that someone could provide a miracle cure for turning my child’s bedroom from  a million degrees, to something less aggressive. Like 40 Celsius). However, I really feel like everyone needs to take a step back, calm down and think before posting ridiculous queries.

I’m a new mom, so I’m on your team, but I can promise you that there is no right way to raise a child – there’s your way. Your paed is not the best paed because he does XYZ, your baby will not turns into a zombie should you feed him a fruit before hes 12.2 months old. Yes, he can sleep with socks on, but he can also sleep with no socks. Baby has a temperature? Give him meds, or take him to the doctor, or go outside and pray to the fever gods. At the end of the day you will know, deep in your heart, what is best for you. My child has never been to a paed, we don’t even have one should he need one, has fallen over and smashed his larger-than-normal sized head more times than I care to mention, has slipped under water in-front of my very eyes, used a BUMBO (gasp!) and has hit a 41 degree temperature when teething. Am I a terrible mom? You might think so, but I think my style of parenting is right for me – I’m letting my child explore, learn, fall, learn again and cry a little bit. Maybe I’m also a little bit lazy. Yes, I’m also a little bit lazy. And cheap. have you seen the price of peads?

So moms, before you rush to your phone or PC to ask the world their opinion, remember that there isn’t always safety in numbers. Trust yourselves just a  little bit more. You’re doing a great job.

How to raise a child

 

 

Continue Reading

Motherhood. Expectations Vs. Reality.

Oh, pregnancy. A sweet time of glowing skin and great plans. Alas, just as your uterus shatters, so do your big parenting ideas.

I will get my post baby body back.

No. No you won’t. Sorry. (Unless you’re my friend Amy. Fuck Amy).

I will always look presentable. No mom jeans for me!

You will never look presentable again. Yesterday I put on a crisp white work shirt and dropped Carter off at crèche. The parent gods laughed and laughed at me when Carter threw up, not once, not twice, but thrice on said shirt. I spent the remainder of the day sniffing myself, wondering if anyone else could smell the curdled Nan.

I will still cook gourmet, healthy meals.

If that means opening a tin of curried vegetables and pouring a mug of wine, then yes, I’m positively Nigella’ing this shit.

I will make time for my man. No baby shall come between us.

And if by ‘making time’ you mean grunting at each other from across the lounge, while sprawled on your couch, mug of wine in hand, and Idols Season 76 on TV, then yes, we are living the dream.

I will never drug my baby.

Until you use Telament for the first time, and the angels in the heavens open their sweet, sweet mouths and sing your praise. “Hallelujah” they chant, “for your baby shall now nap”.

I will not over document my child’s life.

I see your ’18 photos of Juniors solids’ and raise you my birth photo, Facebook gallery and 416 Instagram snaps.

I will never help my baby to sleep. He will sleep when I tell him to sleep.

Sister, you will rock, swing, walk, run, coo, kiss and lick your baby to sleep. There are days when I find myself rocking slowly back and forth…and my child is nowhere in sight. Acceptable at home, not great in a business boardroom.

I will not let one small human getin the way of my life’s plans.

And if by life’s plans you mean living, breathing, napping, pooing, working, shopping, cooking, socialising and cleaning Nan vomit off your white shirt, then sorry. They will get in the way of it all. I have held a wee in for the better part of a day. Your body is a miraculous thing. It can hold a baby, and urine for equal amounts of time.

I will not bring up my kid in adult conversation.

Boss: “Have you done that budget recon, Kate?”

Kate: “No, because have you seen how cute my baby is?”

I will still have money leftover for nice things

A telephone conversation with my husband this morning went along the lines of “Darling, remember all that money we had saved for house extensions and that new custom made TV stand? Well, it’s now all going to be spent on a pool fence and some nappies.”

I will not feel guilty about re-priotitizing my life.

You will apologize for everything. Sorry I can’t make your function, sorry I’m leaving work now to fetch my child, sorry I’m late, sorry I’m sorry, I’m sorry I take a million Instagram photos and talk about my son all day. Sorry, not sorry.

You will never be the same again.

“The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.” and so in you the child your mother lives on and through your family continues to live… so at this time look after yourself and your family as you would your mother for through you all she will truly never die.” – Osho

Continue Reading