Mummy Minute

It’s an exciting time having a baby, and it’s not just a new and special experience for the parents. There are some other people involved, they are a bit older, often come in pairs, and have already had some on-the-job parenting training, all be it a little dated. A new baby in a family is also a unique and special time for the Grandparents.

Now it’s come to my attention, through my experience with my children’s grandparents and general observations of other grandparents, that there are many different types of grandparents. There’s the All-In Grandparents; you will often find these doting grandparents racing around after their grandchildren at the park or splashing about with them in the pool or at some other kiddie haven playing with their grandkiddies. There’s the Longing Grandparents; these are the grandparents who aren’t quite grandparents yet. They often invite themselves to their friend’s grandkids celebrations and are usually quite useful as they love the time shared with available grandchildren. They are waiting for their job title to be made permanent and not just be fill-in grandparents to their friend’s grandkids.

Next there are the Distracted Grandparents. These grandparents have simply got too many other wonderful things going on in their lives to be overly involved with their grandkids. They do love their grandkids, but yearn for their paid work, their lawn bowls, and generally their kid-free freedom. Meddling Grandparents are ones to be wary of. Through their great love of their grandchildren, and also of control, they like to ask lots of questions and provide even more answers. “No, she’s not hungry. I know”, or “You put the cream/hat/shoes/hair elastic etc on THIS way” and “That’s not how you bath/cook/dress/insert anything here, a baby/child/adolescent” are among other unsolicited phrases they may coin.

I know there have been days when I have been so frustrated by my children’s own grandparents who seem to be a mix of the above categories depending on the weather. But it is important to keep in mind that whilst you are in training as a parent, they too are in training, as a grandparent. They are also learning on the job and fumbling their way through this new territory. Grandparents are accustomed to being in the driving seat when it comes to raising little humans, they aren’t acclimatised to being placed in the passenger seat and it can be a bumpy ride for them too.

Sometimes things might get a bit awkward as you and they navigate around new situations. It can be easy to make things even more awkward too. For example, you are breastfeeding in the presence of you parents-in law (the other grandparents) and Granny makes a comment, “Well he certainly is hungry” or “Gee, he’s feeding well”. She is obviously trying to make an effort to connect, so you do the same, “He likes my breasts as much as your son did when we first met” (Ahhh! That Mummy Brain strikes again!).

Regardless of the types of grandparents your beautiful bundles of joy have been blessed with, remember they all stem from love for their grandkids. It’s better to learn what skills they have that are helpful to you (cooking, folding laundry, rocking baby to sleep whilst you shower or nap, picking up your preschooler whilst you care for you toddler, making your kids laugh with their dance routines) and praise them for it. Then they are more likely to keep doing what is useful for you and your relationship will be better. And if all else fails, just smile and nod. Just as they claim grandchildren are so great because they can be handed back, grandparents are also great in that way as you can wave them off after a visit too.

Being a new mum is like starting at a new school. When you go on your first outing to a mothers group its like being on your first day at primary school all over again. You already feel a bit uncertain with your Mummy Skills (and probably worry when your little bundle will erupt into a full blown cry in public and how you will handle it). Next you start getting anxious as you wonder  if you packed enough nappies, wipes, dummies, chocolate? Then after taking approximately an hour and a half to get ready to leave the house (and that was just preparing your new baby for the outing; she goes through more outfit changes than you do in a week, mind you you don’t vomit or poop on your clothes so fair call) you finally make it out the front door.

So you survive the car trip, baby only screamed at you nearly the entire journey, and you tried gentle shushing, then reasoning with the little baby but the talking was really only to keep you sane. After realising nothing will stop your little boss from screaming her head off (heck, even rocking the car with the breaks whilst stopped at traffic lights didn’t work) you decided to turn up the music and sing, what difference did it make? Anyway you finally arrive and after figuring out how to carry your oversized nappy bag as well as your baby you make it to your destination. You notice the mums standing and sitting about with their babies. They look confident but you swear you see a flicker of fear within that one mum’s eyes as her baby screams out loud and she nervously comforts her trying not to make a scene, and from that instant you know you are going to be besties.

All the new mums look a little fragile, but they hide it well. The shock of the birth still fresh in their minds makes them jump easily. Gradually you share your war stories,discussing who had the longest labour, the biggest tear, the most bleeding, the cut. Next the focus shifts to your babies and you discuss who has the best sleeper, the strongest, longest, most hairy, most alert baby. A little competition goes unnoticed…for now. After a few weeks of outings you get the hang of it. You naturally cluster with mothers who seem to be similar to you, whether through similar birthing experiences, or the fact you have the same pram, and cliques begin to form.

As you baby grows you have more of these nervous “first outings”. Fast forward three years and I experience the whole first day at school thing again when my eldest started preschool. As if the first day wasn’t hard enough, all the tears, mine of course. I’m learning how to coordinate the preschool morning (having lunch and bag packed and ready with all those preschool necessities, dressing two little beings whilst heavily pregnant and racing to the loo every other minute, then remembering to pack everything including the kids into the car). So there we were, second week of preschool and I hear the gentle laughter of mothers bonding over tea in one of the preschool rooms. I ask the teacher what was going on, “A meet and greet, go on and join them”. Now the teacher’s at my Miss 3’s preschool are all very lovely and we are super impressed with the centre. But I must say I wasn’t on form that morning. I mean where was the note about this meet and greet? I must have misplaced it somewhere. How is it only week 2 and I already don’t know what’s happening? Primary school is going to be hard! Other mothers seemed informed, unless they take plates of home baked sweets with theme everywhere?

Racing through my head I begin to worry (‘Oh crap, I had no idea about this meet and greet, perhaps I shouldn’t have worn my retainer, or used moisturiser for hair gel, and maybe tracksuit pants wasn’t the best clothing choice and did I shave under my arms because I’m starting to sweat and I want to take my jumper off but now I don’t know if that is a good idea!’). I walk in with a smile. Remember, I’m representing Miss 3 here, I’ve got to make a good first impression for her sake. Looking around I scan the room. Which mums look approachable. Oh there’s one with a toddler about the age of my Miss 18 months, maybe we could be friends? Look she wears her baby in the same carrier we have used, maybe we can be friends? Wait, that mum looks a mess like me, she’s probably the best bet for a Mummy friend.

So we go through the stress of finding Mummy friends, and if the friendship works out we arrange a few play-dates, but truth be told we hardly, if ever see our Mummy friends as soon as one of us has more than one kid. It becomes impossible to schedule any time to meet up because someone is always sick, having a tantrum, has an appointment, dance lesson, swimming class, is sick (did I already mention someone is always sick?). But we try, and we feel like we have some friends, and when we do finally get the chance to catch up (even though we hardly have anything to say as Mummy Brain strikes again because after talking with your little bosses all day every day your conversational skills go down the toilet) we feel happy because at least we have been listened to. Well kind of, as their toddler tugs at their pants and their preschooler yells “Mummy, Mummy, MUM! Watch me, Watch MEEEE!”.Then we go home and realise we have our best friends with us all the time; our kids! And we wonder what all the nervousness was about because we know we’re great at our job and we don’t need anyone else to validate that for us.

Most movies would have you believe that being pregnant is a beautiful time in your life when you glow as you grow your baby bump. It certainly is a beautiful time if your life as you eagerly await the arrival of your precious baby. But glowing? Not so sure about that one. My first pregnancy I was so nervous about what I ate, how I lay when I slept, what I did, that by the end of the 40 weeks I was a nervous wreck and just wanted my baby out so I could witness she was okay. Not only that, but I never experienced this ‘glow’ people talk about. My skin was more spotty than a prepubescent teenager. Also my emotional state was somewhat heightened and I believe I may have been a little more sensitive, to put it lightly.

I can’t remember much from my second pregnancy, apart from the bad skin…again…I had the luxury of better health care with our second and third babies and so was less anxious, and our first born was at that stage too young to voice what she thought of pregnant me. Third pregnancy, yes spotty skin…again…Honestly I had better skin as a teenager than whilst pregnant. However, I have never felt more exhausted than whilst pregnant with our third baby. I put it down to chasing two little bosses whilst carrying a growing third.

I had ligament pain this time and often contorted my face in pain as I hobbled about trying to do my regular Mummy duties (taking the kids to the park, providing fun activities for them whilst at home, making sure they and I survived each day). Night sweats and leg cramps were awful and I woke frequently to race to the loo. Not only that, this third baby was frank breech for most of the pregnancy which made almost any position uncomfortable and when he did turn at 37 weeks I was in so much pain we thought for sure it was labour. Boy was I glad when C-Day rolled around at 38 weeks, his weight and length were enough to explain why I was so miserably uncomfortable, being our biggest baby yet.

I hadn’t really thought of how my two daughters perceived me during my pregnancy until preschool sent home a beautiful Mother’s Day Gift, hand crafted by my Miss 3. I was so excited to open up my very first gift made exclusively by our first born and the preschool certainly did impress with their efforts to make it a special present. As I looked into the cloth bag, hand print flowers adorning the front I puled out a gift, wrapped in paper and ribbon by our darling Miss 3. Inside was a painting of me, very aptly done with crazy hair and running paint lines around the eyes (Yes I had let my hair go a bit wild with the limited grooming time I now had, and yes I guess I was again slightly more emotional in my pregnant state), a chocolate made at preschool inside a small cardboard box and a laminated sheet of paper titled “All About Mum”. Yes! I had waited for one of these since being a teacher and making them with my own classes. Such a beautiful reflection of a child’s love for their mother. I was eager to see what Miss 3 had said about me, her Mummy. This is what the paper said:

Let me tell you about my Mum.

My mum is “29” years old. (Wow, she got it right, she tells me all the time I’m 5. I must have matured somewhat?)

She likes to “go to home”. (Okay sweetie, not really, I like to go out to parks and go for walks, just a little hard with two fast kiddies and a huge baby bump, but I’ll take it.)

The best thing she cooks is “cookies” (Got me there kiddo, its not like you eat healthy things I make anyway and we make these together so this was sweet of her to say.)

Her favourite food is “cookies”. (Wait, can she see me when I hide in the kitchen cupboard to eat my chocolate biscuits?)

Her favourite way to relax is “sit on the lounge”. (Okay, I have been less mobile recently, fair call.)

She is really good at “watching TV”. (Do I sense a theme here? I thought I was really good at lots of things, like reading, cooking, playing, making art, and she notes watching TV as my best skill?)

My mum is special because “she is a love heart”. (Way to redeem yourself kiddo, or are you calling me fat?)

Well, there it was, plain as paper for me to see how my Miss 3 perceives pregnant me. I must appear to be a big cookie-eating blob to her who migrates to the couch at any chance. Well, she is only slightly accurate…okay, its pretty accurate.

I am glad our third baby has since arrived safely. I have more energy again, even with the night waking, (pregnancy really does its best to train you for this lack of sleep with nightly loo runs and mini-kitchen feasts. The glow of the fridge in a darkened house was the only glow I experienced during pregnancy as I hovered around it mindlessly stuffing food into my mouth to ease the hunger and quench my insatiable thirst for milk). And I believe if Miss 3 were to fill in another “All About Mum” form it would read differently now. I guess next year’s annual Mum review will reveal all.

 

Ms Mummy went out to play, taking her toddler to the park one sunny day.

Ms Mummy was walking along, holding her toddler and singing a song. Just then a truck went driving by, frightening her toddler, making her cry.

The toddler had been having fun, enjoying the warm rays from the sun, when the truck scared her and she started to cry, dropping her dummy in a garden near by.

Ms Mummy tried to catch it whilst holding her toddler tight, then suddenly she felt a bite. That was when she let go of her carry-all, off her shoulder she watched it fall.

“Owwww!” cried Ms Mummy, “Where is that damn spare dummy?”

It wasn’t here, it wasn’t there, it simply wasn’t anywhere. She checked her pockets, front and back, then she bent down to look through her rucksack.

“Ooooo!” cried Ms Mummy, “Why can’t I find that blasted dummy!”

Her toddler twisted and turned, she writhed and she squirmed, all the while gripping her mother’s clothes tight, screaming as scared passer by’s fled out of sight. “Ooooo!” cried Ms Mummy, “My toddler won’t stop biting me, why does she have to fight?”

The toddler squawked and she squealed as her mother rocked and she reeled. “Ooooo!” cried Ms Mummy, her face turning red, “Where is that silly dummy!”

She jumped as she picked up and jiggled her carry-all and watched as it wobbled and wiggled. “Ooooo!” cried Ms Mummy, her toddler screaming in her ear, “I want my dummy!”

She looked again here, and again there, she pulled apart her carry-all as she looked everywhere. “Ooooo!” cried Ms Mummy, “Where is that f***ing dummy!”

See her stomping all around? Now she’s shouting on the ground, but still that dummy cannot be found. “Ooooo!” cried Ms Mummy, her toddler joining in yelling,  “I want my dummy!”

Ah, now she’s got it, she begins to gleam, is that the dummy, the thing to stop the screams? “Ooooo!” cried Ms Mummy, I’ve found the dummy!”

“Ooooo!” she watched as it dropped to the ground, she moved so fast, she fell as she turned around. Swiftly she grabbed the dummy, and placed it in the mouth of her toddler who was still crying “Peeease Mummy!” Now she felt relieved, for quiet and calm she had achieved, Ms Mummy had found and replaced the dummy.