When our children were born I tried to be as politically correct as possible.
The Girl was given trucks and tool sets and The Boy received his own set of dolls.
I was offended by their resistance to my PC efforts when I discovered The Girl serving tea to her trucks out of an upside-down construction hat and caught The Boy playing 'zzzooooom, boom, bang!' with his mummy and daddy dolls.
And now, The Boy is four years old and they tell me he has the same amount of testosterone running through him as a 14-year-old teenager.
I found myself nose-to-nose with him the other day.
He stood on the bed after being sent to his room, receiving three frowny faces on his sticker chart and a smack on the bum.
The veins in his little neck were bulging as he leaned towards me like the Incredible Hulk, hissing through clenched teeth that I was making him "very, very angry".
Finally I resorted to the worst punishment of all - I grounded him!
Has there ever been a four-year-old in the world who was grounded?
He replied "I am not listening to you and you, you, you are a fanny-head".
I had to leave the room, hold the door shut behind me, lean against it and snicker hysterically into my palm.
From the other side of the door I heard a little, suprisingly-calm voice ask - in a quizzical manner - "what's grounded?"
So I've decided, that's it! I've lost. I am officially waving the white flag.
I knew he could out-stubborn me when he was a year old and wouldn't sleep during the nights.
If I sang lullabies he'd scream "no, no, no" and thrash back and forwards. (I'm assured it's not just my singing voice.)
We tried controlled crying - he kicked the cot off the wall and walked out.
We tried it again at age two and he literally took the door off the hinges.
He won!
One night, at 1am in the morning, I finally turned off all the lights except my bedside lamp and crawled into bed. He stood in the doorway screaming "I'm not going to bed" and I said "well, I am".
I woke up two hours later and he was asleep, standing up with his forehead mashed against the door jamb.
He won!
Ironically, the only person who can best him is his sister.
Now, I just need to wait for her hormones to set in and I can sit back and watch the fireworks!
It's only about 10 years from now - I can probably last it out that long with a cattle prod and a lot of frowny faces.
Friday, July 15, 2005
The Baby Bible
When you live in a town with the state’s highest birthrate you tend to lose a lot of friends to pregnancy – after all, it’s a disease that most women catch eventually.
And, when you’ve gone through all the hard stuff yourself, after you’ve ignored all the good, practical advice other mums handed you at the beginning – you desperately want to make it easier for someone else.
We work in a business that’s been up and running for two years and, in that time, we’ve had four staff members come down pregnant.
The rest of us already had young children, ranging in age from nine months through to eight or so.
So we put our heads together and came up with the Baby Bible.
Now, I can publish excerpts from it so the entire world-wide web can benefit from our knowledge.
Here is the product endorsement-free version…
Firstly, they come out ugly! Don’t expect anything else.
Hats don’t stay on. Button-up necks are useless. Zips are uncomfortable when you’re a little baby stuck on your back 20 of the 24 hours in the day.
Don’t get anything with buttons at the crutch – big, tough, riveted snaps are the go! Trust me on this one, I’ve changed a lot of bums in the dark at 2am in the morning with another toddler asleep in the bed next to me.
You are not a bad mum if you don’t breastfeed.
You are not a bad mum if you don’t have a mother’s group or if you hate the other ladies at your playgroup.
You are not a bad mum if you don’t document every ounce of weight gained, lost or imagined on your baby.
Odds on, you’re just not a bad mum.
It’s nice to keep the records but you’ll probably notice if you’re baby is going well. The blue book is great and those little baby albums – but get someone else to keep one and just stick with a basic diary. I think baby albums are a Nanna job (are you reading this Nanna?) – then you can just ring her and let her jot down the dates herself while you get on with the job of breastfeeding, burping, buttoning and butt-wiping.
Ok – while we’re talking about butt-wiping.
Baby’s poo starts off black in the hospital, and alternates between fluorescent green, Jeep Cherokee khaki and Dijon mustard-yellow in the months that follow. The Girl could shoot shit at me from two feet away while she’s was breastfed. It’s all under high pressure in their little bodies.
My sister-in-laws says – Beware! Banana goes in yellow and comes out black!
They hate to poo. They cry. Rub their tummies in clockwise motion, let them push their feet against something so they can brace themselves and rub the bottom of their feet in a figure-of-eight motion. It really works. But if you get stuck, so does soft brown sugar or a splash of Coca Cola in a bottle of water – it’ll have them shitting through the eye of a needle.
Stack up on those plastic, kill-the-smell nappy bags - they’re a lifesaver at 3am at your mum’s house in the middle of a frosty Winter when you don’t want to go to the outside bin but you’re too scared to stink her place up.
Buy nappy san and buckets now – you’ll have to deal with poo, puke and Heinz baby food from now on. It’s always handy to chuck it in a bucket and let it soak but make sure the bucket has a firm-fitting lid.
Yes, when they breathe, the fontanelle goes up and down in their head – it’s not a brain-eating alien, and her head isn’t caving in! (I get a lot of phone calls the first time a ‘new mum’ friend sees that.)
We came home to a friend’s house one day, asked the baby’s dad where the kids were, and found the two-year-old upside-down, headfirst in the toilet, with all the other kids standing around watching her struggle.
Don’t ever leave your kids with selfish losers!
Don’t ever be scared to demand your partner or parent pay the same attention YOU pay to your child when they look after them.
You should never have to explain why they have to sit with them in the bathroom, they just should – and always close your toilet and bathroom door – that’s where the bad stuff happens because there’s water.
Dad’s don’t babysit.
It’s their job too!
Teenagers from down the road babysit.
Another time, The Girl and her friend got into her mum’s makeup – if you think the kids have been quiet too long – THEY HAVE! Go find them!
Baby’s survive most things and you’re not a good parent unless you walk around feeling guilty 80 per cent of the time – those are the rules.
You can drop them and they don’t always break, but it’s certainly not recommended.
If you think they can’t get in, they will.
If you think they can’t get out, they can.
If you think they’re not breathing because they’ve been asleep too long, don’t poke them, just enjoy it!
My sister-in-law says glycerine on the dummy is good – I say why give them a sweet tooth too early on.
The plastic bag thing – that’s real! Get rid of them or keep them up high.
Now, let’s talk about you…Yes – they do get bigger.
They hurt sometimes too, it’s like period cramp for your boobs.
Don’t go crazy shopping. Let the rellies buy the pink and blue and ribboned and fluffy and eared and tailed clothes.
You buy soft, simple, washable clothes.
Fuck off the booties now.
Buy soft, cotton socks – they’re the only things that stay on! You’ll get enough booties and bloody bibs it’ll drive you nuts and all the stupid bibs with have tie-backs.
Buy big soft, right-down-to-their knees bibs that slip over their heads or Velcro on one side.
When they can start taking them off it’s time to give them a miss and just layer the floor in newspaper at dinner time.
Not all nursery furniture has to match and not everything needs a frilly valance around it.
Just letting you know.
Buy a dishwasher! Then get transparent bottle nipples so you can always see they’re clean!
Get a dryer now! And a clotheshorse. You will never do your housework at normal times ever again.
When you go to formula, you can buy little round containers cut into quarters or thirds which hold exactly the right amount for a bottle and the lid spins around so you can just zap the water in any café and dump the formula right in. Makes bottle-feeding much more portable.
When you get a baby/nappy bag – get a backpack –you’re never going to have enough hands ever again.
Dress your baby in the same clothes you’d dress yourself!
I don’t mean boob tubes, high heels and designer-wear – but there’s no need for beanies and ugh boots and blankets when you’re wearing summer clothes.
Even babies would rather be outside.
When things go bad get out of the house – Walk! Run! Ride a bus or a bike!
Don’t sit inside and cry and hate yourself and the kids!
You’re not alone – all mums are mad – it’s hereditary, you get it from the kids!
And, when you’ve gone through all the hard stuff yourself, after you’ve ignored all the good, practical advice other mums handed you at the beginning – you desperately want to make it easier for someone else.
We work in a business that’s been up and running for two years and, in that time, we’ve had four staff members come down pregnant.
The rest of us already had young children, ranging in age from nine months through to eight or so.
So we put our heads together and came up with the Baby Bible.
Now, I can publish excerpts from it so the entire world-wide web can benefit from our knowledge.
Here is the product endorsement-free version…
Firstly, they come out ugly! Don’t expect anything else.
Hats don’t stay on. Button-up necks are useless. Zips are uncomfortable when you’re a little baby stuck on your back 20 of the 24 hours in the day.
Don’t get anything with buttons at the crutch – big, tough, riveted snaps are the go! Trust me on this one, I’ve changed a lot of bums in the dark at 2am in the morning with another toddler asleep in the bed next to me.
You are not a bad mum if you don’t breastfeed.
You are not a bad mum if you don’t have a mother’s group or if you hate the other ladies at your playgroup.
You are not a bad mum if you don’t document every ounce of weight gained, lost or imagined on your baby.
Odds on, you’re just not a bad mum.
It’s nice to keep the records but you’ll probably notice if you’re baby is going well. The blue book is great and those little baby albums – but get someone else to keep one and just stick with a basic diary. I think baby albums are a Nanna job (are you reading this Nanna?) – then you can just ring her and let her jot down the dates herself while you get on with the job of breastfeeding, burping, buttoning and butt-wiping.
Ok – while we’re talking about butt-wiping.
Baby’s poo starts off black in the hospital, and alternates between fluorescent green, Jeep Cherokee khaki and Dijon mustard-yellow in the months that follow. The Girl could shoot shit at me from two feet away while she’s was breastfed. It’s all under high pressure in their little bodies.
My sister-in-laws says – Beware! Banana goes in yellow and comes out black!
They hate to poo. They cry. Rub their tummies in clockwise motion, let them push their feet against something so they can brace themselves and rub the bottom of their feet in a figure-of-eight motion. It really works. But if you get stuck, so does soft brown sugar or a splash of Coca Cola in a bottle of water – it’ll have them shitting through the eye of a needle.
Stack up on those plastic, kill-the-smell nappy bags - they’re a lifesaver at 3am at your mum’s house in the middle of a frosty Winter when you don’t want to go to the outside bin but you’re too scared to stink her place up.
Buy nappy san and buckets now – you’ll have to deal with poo, puke and Heinz baby food from now on. It’s always handy to chuck it in a bucket and let it soak but make sure the bucket has a firm-fitting lid.
Yes, when they breathe, the fontanelle goes up and down in their head – it’s not a brain-eating alien, and her head isn’t caving in! (I get a lot of phone calls the first time a ‘new mum’ friend sees that.)
We came home to a friend’s house one day, asked the baby’s dad where the kids were, and found the two-year-old upside-down, headfirst in the toilet, with all the other kids standing around watching her struggle.
Don’t ever leave your kids with selfish losers!
Don’t ever be scared to demand your partner or parent pay the same attention YOU pay to your child when they look after them.
You should never have to explain why they have to sit with them in the bathroom, they just should – and always close your toilet and bathroom door – that’s where the bad stuff happens because there’s water.
Dad’s don’t babysit.
It’s their job too!
Teenagers from down the road babysit.
Another time, The Girl and her friend got into her mum’s makeup – if you think the kids have been quiet too long – THEY HAVE! Go find them!
Baby’s survive most things and you’re not a good parent unless you walk around feeling guilty 80 per cent of the time – those are the rules.
You can drop them and they don’t always break, but it’s certainly not recommended.
If you think they can’t get in, they will.
If you think they can’t get out, they can.
If you think they’re not breathing because they’ve been asleep too long, don’t poke them, just enjoy it!
My sister-in-law says glycerine on the dummy is good – I say why give them a sweet tooth too early on.
The plastic bag thing – that’s real! Get rid of them or keep them up high.
Now, let’s talk about you…Yes – they do get bigger.
They hurt sometimes too, it’s like period cramp for your boobs.
Don’t go crazy shopping. Let the rellies buy the pink and blue and ribboned and fluffy and eared and tailed clothes.
You buy soft, simple, washable clothes.
Fuck off the booties now.
Buy soft, cotton socks – they’re the only things that stay on! You’ll get enough booties and bloody bibs it’ll drive you nuts and all the stupid bibs with have tie-backs.
Buy big soft, right-down-to-their knees bibs that slip over their heads or Velcro on one side.
When they can start taking them off it’s time to give them a miss and just layer the floor in newspaper at dinner time.
Not all nursery furniture has to match and not everything needs a frilly valance around it.
Just letting you know.
Buy a dishwasher! Then get transparent bottle nipples so you can always see they’re clean!
Get a dryer now! And a clotheshorse. You will never do your housework at normal times ever again.
When you go to formula, you can buy little round containers cut into quarters or thirds which hold exactly the right amount for a bottle and the lid spins around so you can just zap the water in any café and dump the formula right in. Makes bottle-feeding much more portable.
When you get a baby/nappy bag – get a backpack –you’re never going to have enough hands ever again.
Dress your baby in the same clothes you’d dress yourself!
I don’t mean boob tubes, high heels and designer-wear – but there’s no need for beanies and ugh boots and blankets when you’re wearing summer clothes.
Even babies would rather be outside.
When things go bad get out of the house – Walk! Run! Ride a bus or a bike!
Don’t sit inside and cry and hate yourself and the kids!
You’re not alone – all mums are mad – it’s hereditary, you get it from the kids!
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