1 bottle, 1000 memories

I'm the kinda person who goes on a holiday and snatches random souvenirs. I've got signs from a restroom in Phillip Island, a sinker from a pier at Ocean Grove and bits of grass from the Sydney 2000 Olympic Stadium. I've got bits of random crap everywhere. The only reason I do this, is because I'm a tightass who refuses to pay for a tacky teaspoon. There's a hundred memories stored away in my crappy collection of random. Worthless to anyone else but priceless to me.

Earlier today, Max found this at the bottom of a toybox




This was one of Max's bottles from RCH. I was bored one day, so I snuck into the kitchen and filled it up with rice bubbles to make him a rattle*. He was barely 4 months old at the time and had zero interest in it. So, the rice bubble, bottle rattle came home amongst a mass of better toys and stayed hidden down the bottom, until today.

Every day at 3pm, the RCH kitchen delivered the bottles. It was always 6 bottles, with 240mls. They weren't allowed to be heated in the microwave, it was strictly boiling water only. The boiling water wasn't allowed out of the kitchen and Max wasn't allowed inside the kitchen. That part, drove me nuts. When Max decided he was hungry, it'd be a frantic dash to the kitchen. It broke me every time to leave him crying in the room.

Max had his first drink from one of these bottles, the day after leaving PICU. The fear which was immediately followed by relief, so great it still chokes me up today.

Today, Max still had zero interest in the rice bubble, bottle rattle but seeing it made me smile. There's 1000 memories inside this 1 bottle. Some of them are sad, some of them are happy and a few of them are angry. Every single memory reminds me of how far we've come......




.....and we've only just begun.



*I can afford a real rattle but I thought this was more interesting


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Taming the Lion

A few weeks ago, I woke up and Max had turned into a toddler. Seriously. It happened overnight. My little boy is 16 months old, he's running, climbing, learning to build with blocks, ramming me with his Tonka truck and *cue scary music * starting to have tantrums.

Apparently toddlers have intense emotions. Very intense emotions. There's been times when Max has a complete meltdown, over something so trivial, I can't help but giggle. Our conversations go something like this-

Me: "Is it worth screaming until you're purple just because I'm putting socks on your feet?"
Max: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAH"
Me: "I'll take that as a yes then"
Max: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"
Me: "I do think you're overreacting a tad".



Angry child with a retro filter

I'm coming to the frightening reality, that none of my toddler taming strategies are effective. This disturbs me. Up until now, I've told deluded myself that he won't be a feral toddler, as long as I'm firm, consistent and fair. I've already discovered that the words "No, Stop and enough" only fuel the exact behavior I'm trying to stop. Positive reinforcement works a treat but isn't always possible. Just the other day, I lavished praise on him for returning a pair of undies he'd taken from the washing basket. Now, he keeps stealing undies, just so he can give them back and get praise. Is it just my toddler who hasn't read the book? For example-

• Book says- When toddler wants to play with fire distract him and he'll forget about it.

I say- Max doesn't forget and Max won't be distracted. An elephant could walk into the lounge room and he'd still want the fire.

• Book says: Tantrums are fuelled by attention, so ignore the tantrum and walk away.

I say: If I walk away Max's whole face lights up like the kid from 'Home Alone'. He thinks it means I've given up and he's free to do what he pleases.

Book says: If you ignore the tantrum, you child will become a serial killer. Validate the child's emotions, give rationales and apologize when you can't give them what they want.

I say: "Max, I can see you're upset right now but it's dangerous to play on the road. I'm sorry I can't let you become Flat Stanley". His response? "WAAAAAAAAAH"

In a room full of teaspoons, Max would find the only steak knife. He'd hone in on said steak knife and devise a series of fiendish plans to get his grubby little fingers on it. He wouldn't give up, he'd wait for me to give up.

Which brings me to the point of this post. Does anyone want my child? I'll pick him up in a few years.




Only joking kiddo

Why Max will be an only child

In a few days, Max will be 16 months old. It appears inevitable at this time, people begin asking the question, "are you going to start trying for another baby?". Hell no, f*** no, good lord NO, NO, NO. My response is usually met with "you'll change your mind". Um, not likely.

I never planned to have children, Max is the greatest accident I've ever had but I'm not at all inspired to take on a número duo. The 2.3 kids and white picket fence dream died along time ago, somewhere between the Sydney Olympics and Kevin Rudd. I've got one fantastic son and that's enough. It's not just Max's stroke that's bought me to this conclusion. Nope, before then, there was a whole other world of bullshit. Less significant bullshit. But bullshit nonetheless.

Pregnancy....... Hated it. Every single day of it. The days when I said I was happy, I was lying. I was more depressed than I've ever been and irritated by constant physical 'niggles'. Nothing major, just irritating little niggles all the flipping time. Carpal tunnel, a persistent itch on my back in the one spot I couldn't reach, heartburn (oh dear lord, the heartburn), insomnia, cankles....get the idea? My final trimester bought along severe nausea and random vomitting. Completely random vomitting, with no warning whatsoever. There was a couple of embarrassing public incidents. I'll spare you the details.

Childbirth.....all you need to know is, I am still traumatised. A series of events that had nurses saying "oh. That doesn't happen much". Well it happened and it happened to me. Not doing that again. No sir-f*ckin-ee. Stick that in your hooty and blow it.

Breast feeding..... there are some things I like to be in one piece. Nipples, for example falls in that category. Combined with the fact that I was a terrible cow and completely sucked at lactating. It was never going to come together. Then came the guilt of not being able to breast feed. The frantic searches on Google "is my bottle fed child more likely to be a serial killer". Admittedly, my attitude was pretty poor by this stage.

Then there's the sleep, or lack thereof. Before I was pregnant, I could easily sleep for 18 hour stretches. Sure, I missed a lot of significant world events, but I didn't care (still don't). Max has never been a great sleeper and he still isn't. He's only slept through the night on a handful of occasions, and when he does sleep through, he's ready to face the day at 4am. Other nights, he likes to party at 1am, 2am, 3am...... I know 'this too shall pass', this is precisely why, I'm reluctant for baby #2. I'd rather it passed as soon as possible.

There are other things but they're things I'm not yet able to think about, let alone write about. All of Max's achievements have come at cost. They are decisions I would choose again, but decisions I need to know are time limited. I owe that to myself and I owe that to him.

Maxwell, is the most brilliant thing that has happened in my (almost) 32 years of living. I wouldn't change one minute of the life we have. But, I feel like we only just dodged the bullet in this round of Russian Roulette.

I plan to quit while I'm ahead.