I’m writing this as I’m avoiding the ominous pile of washing that is looking at me.  I’m also in the need of a bit of a whinge.

I hate school mornings.  I hate getting up before I’m ready.  I hate having to wake the grumpy Little Miss and forcibly eject her from her bed.  I hate getting her dressed.  I hate getting dressed.  I hate making her lunch.  I really hate making her lunch.  I hate the packing of her bag.  I hate the rush to get out of the house and into the car.  I hate the drive to school.  I hate the school car park.

All before 9am.

My brain doesn’t start to function until 10am and that’s with two MUGs of tea fuelling it.

Please tell me I’m not alone in this?

I’m feeling a touch blue today.  Nothing really bad or horrible, just blah.  Not entirely sure if it’s from adrenalin fatigue or if it’s just the weather messing me round.  Either way, need some cheering up.

So tell me your good and happy news.

Lately I’ve been hearing horror stories from mums about their maternal and child health centre visits. Mostly in the aggressive and contradictory advice given out in the sessions. From apparent overfeeding to sleep “suggestions” which have made the mums feel guilty for doing the best they can.

I was lucky. I had two amazing health nursies who I still adore. They were supportive. They were gentle. They were the bright light when everything else was cloudy. They are also rare it seems.

With that said I did have an encounter with another nurse who didn’t listen to what I was asking, gave her opinion without knowing all the facts nor being asked for it and as a result, sent me careening back into the deepest, darkest depression hole I had just crawled out of. (She was reported by one of her colleagues when they found out.)

So you’ve heard my minor horror story, I’d love to hear yours. Good and Bad.

Ok, I know using the term blessingway is a little bit uncool but I had to get your attention some how.

I’m wanting to hear from mums who have had a mother blessing, from people who have organised a blessing and from people who have attended them. I want to know what you did, what you liked, what you didn’t like and how you felt about the experience.

For those of you who are wondering what on earth I’m asking about, here’s a brief explanation. It’s an alternative to a baby shower. It’s a chance for a community of women to gather and bless the mother to be using ritual or pampering or nurturing or something. Sometimes belly casts are made or henna is applied.

So please let me know either in the comments or via my email address (emma[at]themummyseuss.com.au). Thanks in advance.

Em.

I’m typing this feeling just a little bit sheepish. You see, yesterday, I sneezed. A Lot. And when I sneeze it’s not your usual achoo, it’s ACHOO, ACHOO, ACHOO….. complete with startled neighbours. I sneeze loud and violently. I had a boss that left his office to see if everything was ok after I sneezed.

The problem with violent sneezes is you can injure yourself simply by having an extremity in an unusual position whilst sneezing. For example, holding the steering wheel. Which is what I did yesterday. I sneezed whilst driving and did something to my shoulder. Today, after a night of not being able to get into a comfy position to sleep, I found I couldn’t drive my manual car without lots of pain. This means I had no way of getting Little Miss to school. This means by extension, we’re having a pj day.

So I’m taking a couple of days to recover, then I’ll be back massaging and running around again.

PS. Just so I don’t feel like a complete fool, what weird injuries have you given yourself?

I’m going to tell you about a situation and I want you to tell me what you’d do.

You’ve just given birth to your first baby.  You’re breastfeeding like a champion but feeling really crap.  One day you get a really bad pain in your stomach but your put it off as just something you ate and continue on with your day looking after bubs.  Your not happy as you have undiagnosed depression.  A week later the pain comes back and doesn’t go away.  You vomit and your partner gets worried and takes you to the doctor.

The doctor asks you how bad the pain is.  You reply “worse than contractions”.  After the G.P. looks at the newborn in your partner’s arms, he then pushes on your stomach and writes you a referral for an ultrasound and a surgeon.  You’re having a gall bladder attack and it will need to be removed.

After a week you see the surgeon and he books you in for surgery the next week.  You panic.  How are you going to keep breastfeeding, look after a seven week old baby and recover from surgery?  Your partner took all his annual leave after the birth and has none left, your family lives in the country, your in laws all work as do your friends.  What do you do?

At this point I’m going to tell you what actually happened because this did happen to me.  I was very lucky.  My mother came down and stayed with me and Little Miss in the hospital, I’d organised for a breast pump and expressed like mad before surgery and I was lucky that my surgery was on a Friday so Hubby could help out in the first couple of days.  But what would happen if my mother wasn’t available to help?

The reason I’m telling you this story is because there is a new organisation to help women and their families in just this sort of situation where the family finds themselves in circumstantial crisis and in need of practical help.  The organisation is Support for Mums who are having a huge party to celebrate their launch on the 2nd of May.  It’s being held at the very swanky Hotel Windsor and I’d really love to see you there.  If you can’t make it, perhaps you would like to sponsor a ticket or donate to the organisation here.

Thanks.

As some of you know, I spent the weekend just past at the Seven Sisters Festival.  It was a women only event and I was surrounded.  There were babies in carriers and being fed, pregnant bellies, mums having the weekend off, aunties, nannas and grandmas and younger girls.  So many it was impossible to meet them all.

I spent the first day meeting some really lovely women as I was massaging them then in the evening, sitting in the chai tent having a deep and meaningful conversation about something with a group of women I met in the line for a cuppa.  As you do.

The next day I met more interesting people, caught up with some I knew and made a silk scarf printed with gum leaves.  Fun!  That evening I was overwhelmed by it all and sent myself off to bed.  Which as it turned out, was exactly where I needed to be.

The last day of the event I spent lounging around my tent, wandering around the market and somehow, putting henna on a group of people.  Ok!  Was fun and a bit later whilst having a chat to someone else, I was approached and told my great Aunt was keeping me company and was having a marvellous time.  (She was a bit of a hippy back in the day.)

As the time for me to leave approached, I wandered back to my campsite and packed up what I could then sat outside listening to the group of violinists playing not far from me.  Shortly after, Hubby and Little Miss arrived to pick me up to go home and back to the world.

The whole weekend started me thinking again about rituals and traditions and how in our existing communities, the value of these rites has been diminished.  They’ve become superfluous to daily life and in some cases considered to be ridiculous.  But I suspect they are anything but.

So, I’m embarking on another project (obviously because I can’t seem to keep these things down to one).  I’m going to put together some rituals.  Some borrowed, some created.  Lets see where that takes us.

I’ve been away visiting my family in the country.  This involved taking a trip on a train and a bus.  Not just a short one, but a LONG one.

It started Sunday morning leaving the suburban station that also caters for the country services, at an hour that I usually only see the insides of my eyelids.  Little Miss was extra excited to be going to a train ride and had to be stopped from getting on the wrong train.  After watching videos, playing a couple of games and just staring out the window, we eventually arrive at the end of the line and get onto the bus that was waiting for us.

The road between the train and my home town is very very bumpy and about half way there, Little Miss became bored with bouncing around and started commenting on everything she could see.  Loudly and without a filter.  Gah!  Sorry to anyone who may have been commented on and was offended.

We arrive to be greeted by my parents and Little Miss ran off to get her cuddles, I stayed behind to retrieve the luggage.  Once collected and packed into the car, we headed home.

Little Miss used this time to talk non-stop and run around and badger Grandma into making dolls clothes.  I had a little nap.

The next couple of days involved more Grandma and Pa fun with Little Miss, some sewing, a visit to Old Grandma and just spending time together.

The time came for us to return home and onto the bus and train we boarded.  The boredom and fatigue hit Little Miss about 30 minutes into the bus ride and she fell asleep.  Then after I woke her, we boarded the train and she became restless and bored.  There wasn’t much to look at out the window as it was dark.  Thankfully at one point, a family of kids got on the train and she was able to talk and watch them for a bit.

We were met at the suburban station by Hubby who was greeted with a huge hug from Little Miss and we went home.  About two seconds after getting in the door, Little Miss went straight to the window and said hello to the dogs who bounced and cried in response.

So now I have a short break of a day before I head off camping at the Seven Sisters Festival, then school’s back and I might get a rest.

Em.

I sometimes get invited to baby showers.  Sometimes to work, sometimes as a guest.  Today I was a guest at a friend from high school’s shower.  A sneaky conversation between myself and the organiser meant I had my henna kit with me.

So after all the games were played, I got down to business.

This was the result.

Concentrating

Finished.

It was fun and the mummy was perfect.

Since Little Miss is a bit older (5 years old), Hubby and I have managed to have unbroken nights sleep.  Mostly.  That was until last night at 4am precisely, Little Miss was crying.  This of course tripped off the primitive part of my brain which then started poking around until I woke.  I stumble into her room to find her crying and clambering to get to me to be cuddled.

“Why are you crying?” I asked

“Because I have no one to cuddle me” was the tearful response.

“Yes you do.  Mummy and Daddy.”  At which point she climbed off me, grabbed her pillow and ran to my bed.  Sigh.

This morning I asked her if she remembered waking up.  She did.  She’d had a nightmare about monsters and her grandfather trying to protect her but the monsters got him and she was left alone.  AHA!  Now I understand.

Today’s question:  Do your kids have weird nightmares?