8 household items that double as toys for babies

Why is it, when you have a house full of toys, your kid only wants to play with your toothbrush or the timer on the oven?  Here are 8 things I let my son play with that wont scar him for life (literally and figuratively) and give me a little piece of my sanity back:

1. My glasses. Usually while I'm changing his nappy. It's easier to do it blind than have him squirm, roll over, kick, whinge, play with his poo etc etc. The bonus is I can now change a nappy in the dark.
2. My toothbrush. He likes to clean the drain in the bathroom floor with it. I like a pee in peace and not have to stop him from eating toilet paper, or pulling the whole roll on the floor, or trying to climb into the bath. It's a reasonable trade off.
3. The Tupperware drawer. He pulls pieces out, one by one, and tosses them over his shoulder. We just give things a little wipe before we use them; it's more efficient than washing everything that comes flying out of there every day.
4. The baby gates: Mostly he just rattles them and licks the bars. I hope that's as close to prison as he ever gets.
5. My phone. Yeah, yeah, the screen is bad for his eyes. His generation is all about the screens, anyway. I'll make sure he grows up to work in eye-ball medicine and pioneer a way to counteract the damage done by using high res tech from a young age. The real pain is working out what the hell he has done once I get the phone back. Also, the screen is always grotty. Ew.
6. My feet. They're less of a cootie-fest than my shoes (see below). Apparently they taste quite nice, and are hilarious when the toes wiggle.
7. My shoes. He can play for hours (okay. Minutes. 10 at best) with my shoes, tasting the soles, tasting the laces, putting his fingers in the tread then tasting his fingers... It's a delicious wonderland of cooties.
8. The TV remote. We used to let him play with the PS and sound system remotes until he worked out how to take the batteries out. We can barely manage the TV remote, so it was deemed safe. Nath wants to stop him playing with the PS console, but I find popping him in front it buys me at least 5 minutes to make a phone call or a cuppa. Plus, O updated the firmware for us. Handy.

I do draw the line at some things. I've busted him trying to jimmy the oven open. I've dived over and snatched the laptop cord away just as his mouth was starting to close around it. Eating the cold chicken nugget on the floor in Ikea was a "Nooooo!" situation (and no, no-one on our table had chicken nuggets for lunch). The other day I heard "rustle, rustle, rustle" and thought, "hey that sounds like a plastic baaaaargh!". Seriously, the damn thing was only on the table for a minute before I was planning to put it away (yes mum, in the laundry, and with a knot in it).

I tell you what, though. In all my time as a mum, I have stayed awake while my little fella played. It's been tempting on more than one occasion, particularly during his 3am parties, to curl up on the couch and doze off. But I never have. Mamma Instinct wont let me.

Daddy Instinct, however, didn't get that memo... I came out after a lovely sleep in facilitated by my husband taking our jumping bean into the lounge at 6am, only to find a torn up novel, the head phones on the floor and washing strewn around. By this stage, Nath was in the kitchen making coffee.

Me: "Um, honey, have you seen this?"

Nath: "Seen what? Oh. Shit."

Me: "Yeeeeaaah, any chance you fell asleep?"

Nath: "Huh. I guess I must have"

Me: "The first rule of Parent Club is: You don't ever fall asleep when they're awake, honey" 

(Brad Pitt says it better. However, unlike Fight Club, there are heaps of rules in Parent Club. There's definitely one in there about not letting babies play with plastic bags).

Father's Day is just like any other day, only with a sleep in and presents

I'm not sure about older kids, but I can tell you with babies, they're the boss of you. Bedtime is up to them; when and how much they eat is up to them; and if you're looking forward to something, you can bet they'll mess with that, too. So when I get a little win, I feel quite pleased about myself. I take a moment to congratulate myself, even though its unlikely I had any influence on the outcome. Whatever. I take what I can get. Here's a list of mini wins that keep even the most thumbed parents feeling in control and chuffed with themselves:

1. Every time my little fella swallows the medication I've hidden in his food, I whisper to myself, "Sucker!" I have a success rate of about 40%, but I think that counts as a win.
2. We use cloth nappies at home, so on the odd occasion he wears a disposable nappy and does and epic poo, I feel like a deserve a pat on the back for avoiding an unpleasant clean up (or more unpleasant, I should say). I think our washing machine would thank me if he could, too.
3. Ditto when he's at child care or being baby sat. Woo hoo! One less poonami to deal with! (sorry, mum).
4. Babies fall over all the time, happily with less frequency as they get older. When the little dude falls hard and doesn't cry? Yeah, I put that down to my skilled parenting the area of Hard Knocks. He's tough as nuts, and it's all down to me. In reality, he probably saw something shiny on the way down and decided tasting it was more important that letting me know he has an owie.
5. Overall, our little wonder is a pretty good eater. He likes most things, most days. However, it's rare he eats the whole meal. But when he does, it isn't because he was really hungry. Nope, it was my brilliant cooking that taps into exactly what babes love to eat. It's a skill, and really, I'm not sure it can be taught. 
6. You're all familiar with O's relationship with sleep (they hate each other). It's illogical, but when he falls asleep without too much fuss, or if he sleeps for more than 3 hours straight, I totally cheer myself for my flawless execution of the bedtime routine. I know it has little to do with me, and that it's more likely the influence of the moon and the magnetic field that is surrounding our home at the time, or fairy dust, or voodoo, but it still feels like a tick next to my name in the parenting column. Of course, the next night I have no idea what I did, and am racking my brains at 9.30pm as to what the magic combination was the previous night. That shit can send you round the bend.

I can't think of anything else right now, as I was up until 3.30 am with a baby who couldn't decide if he should sleep or party like it's 2099.

And I suppose, since it's Father's Day, I should wake the old man and give him the handmade gift he will treasure forever (children: the gift that keeps on giving. Just kidding. I totally made him part of his present this year). Or I could play around on the net a while longer, and when he gets up to go to the loo, put in my breakfast order...

Happy Father's Day to all the wonderful daddies out there. I know I couldn't live without my dad or Owen's!

It is a truth universally acknowledged...

As I was making myself some toast at 4.30 this morning (O was happily emptying Tupperware* onto the kitchen floor), I was thinking about Mr Darcy - er, I  mean, Pride and Prejudice. I realised that, yes, whilst a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife who, when they first meet, can't stand the sight of him, and rejects his first proposal of marriage, then conveniently changes her mind after seeing his massive home and finding out that he's really nice to the help, there are quite a few other universal truths out there**:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that...

• ...a mother dragged out of bed at 4am to play must be in want of peanut butter on toast. With an Oreo chaser. 
• ...a baby with a room full of toys will be in want of the big blue button on the DVD player, and will climb over his own mother to get to it.
• ...a mother who's son is in possession of toys that have 6 tinny songs in their repertoire will be in want of a hammer and five minutes alone with the lot of them.
• ...fathers will pretend to sleep through anything. Put it to the test next time your baby is bawling at 4am.
• ...your baby will play happily by himself at 5am until he realises you're on a roll with a post for your neglected parenting blog. And then he will assist by deleting half of it.
• ...a baby in possession of a tongue will want to lick everything, especially the bottom of his mother's slippers.
• ...a baby in possession of teeth will be like one of those Cockney kids in the movies who tests the coin by biting on it when the Gentleman flicks it his way. Except your baby tests everything but coins (and small batteries and bread bag ties etc). They're a choking hazard. Also, he's too small to earn his keep, so no pocket money til later.
• ...a mother who has been up with her son since 4am will not be able to go back to sleep at 6am now that he's finally down again.
• ...she will try, drop off at 6.59, get woken by baby, say some choice words, and make daddy deal with breakfast while she tries to get 15 minutes more.



It is a truth universally acknowledge that the scene where Mr Darcy dives into the lake is completely unnecessary but so damn hawt so who cares?

• It is a truth universally acknowledged that a mother who has had 4 hours of broken sleep in a night will type a ridiculous blog post based on the greatest story ever told (wait... hang on...) and assume everyone will know what the hell she's talking about.

Oh, and one more thing: it is a truth universally acknowledged that a child in possession of a good mother will be loved and cherished, and will get away with doing this all over again tomorrow night because he's just so darn sweet, but his mother will make sure she reminds him of it when he has children and is complaining about being tired.

*Just kidding. It's that cheap crap from Ikea that stains and buckles if you look at it sideways.

**I'm literally typing what I see. He really does like to lick the bottom of my slippers. And you know what? I let him. I'm just that good a parent.

One more for the road. You're welcome, ladies.

Images: 

http://myforkandspoon.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/colin-firth111.jpg

http://blog.catherinedelors.com/wp-content/uploads/Colin-Firth-as-Mr-Darcy.jpg 

So much advice, so few comebacks

When you're having a baby, the whole world is excited about it. Friends, family, work colleagues, the bus driver, the lady in the pharmacy, the person selling you a dozen eggs. This does not abate once you have had your baby. The world loves a pregnant lady, but they love a new mum and her darling baby even more. Unfortunately, with this excitement comes advice. Advice you haven't asked for; advice you don't want; advice that leaves you staring in shock at your baby as your recently-filled Confidence Tank drains: you're suddenly anxious that you're doing everything wrong, and your child's certain future of petty crime and soft drug addiction flashes before your eyes. Don't get me wrong: all of this advice comes from a place of genuine caring and concern. Even the stuff from the bus driver. But you are already navigating a minefield of new information and experiences as a first-time mum, and people offering unsolicited advice really doesn't help. So if you are feeling like a particularly cranky mamma bear one day, here are a few rebuttals to the little nuggets on offer:

• Have you had children? And are they perfect? Hmm. Thought so.
• Is that advice you're giving, or are you just telling me what I'm doing wrong without offering me a practical solution?
• If you earned your medical or nursing degree at a real university, and not Ma Kettle's School of Hokum and Old Wives Tales, by all means, tell me how to feed my child.
• Just remember that I spend 24 hours a day with this person, 7 days a week: I don't run around like a headless chook all day yelling, "Oh my God, what do I do? What do I DO?"
• If "all you have to do is (insert sanity-saving tip here!!!)", then why do so many mums have trouble getting their kids to sleep, and why don't you have a best selling book and a national lecture tour?
• You know what I need more than advice? I need a clean bathroom. It's that way. The Ajax is under the sink. 
• I tell you what, why don't you spend 24 hours in my house and put your magical solutions in place and we'll see who's still standing at the end of it.
• White with one. And a piece of cake would be great, thanks.
• If I need advice, I'll ask for it. Until then, tell me how beautiful my son is, and what a fantastic mother I am. I may even make you a cuppa.

And now for some unsolicited advice of my own (yes, I do enjoy living in my glass house, thank you very much): no-one knows your baby like you do. Listen to your gut, and when you don't know what to do, go to someone you trust and ask for help. No-one says that when you get up and dust yourself off, you can't be given a helping hand up.

A Glossary of Terms

I realised I use a few terms and acronyms in my posts that may require further explanation. I like to make up terms to sound smart, and use acronyms because generally I CBF spelling things out (see: CBF). Here is a list of the most common, along with a few others I have made up on the fly (note: these are not in alphabetical order because, well, CBF):

Zen Mother noun A mythical being; one who is calm and patient in the face of a crying/whinging/screaming/angsty child regardless of their own state of sleep deprivation, hunger, PMT, achin' bones, general state of displeasure with the house/work/spouse/child/world-in-general.

Zen Father noun A mythical being; often avoided in favour of The Fun One (see: Dad).

Dad noun The Fun One; one who opts to distract the child with something shiny and noisy during the "I don't wanna go to sleep" tantrum, thereby rendering it almost impossible to calm him down and back to bed in less than 2 hours.

Sleep verb A mythical state of being for mums and dads, but achieved in short blocks by babies, punctuated by crying, cooing or the overwhelming urge to practise new skills, such as crawling, regardless of the time of night.

Zombie Mum noun One who has had little sleep due to a sick/hungry/teething/developing child but who still functions at an acceptable level in daily life; has been known to put the dishes to bed and the baby in the dishwasher (note: this is considered acceptable behaviour after 8 months of 5 hours of broken sleep a night).

Zombie Dad noun One who has had slightly more sleep than his counterpart but rendered as vague by having to listen to how little sleep mum has had, and how she accidentally put the nappies in the fridge and dinner in the washing machine and didn't notice until tea time.

Earth Mother noun A superior being (see also Zen Mother/Zen Father); one who happily cleans poop off cloth nappies, safe in the knowledge that when the world ends from over-consumption, it's not her fault; one who re-purposes, grows, mends, makes all household items, and only buys from fair trade, organically certified companies; drives a Prius.

Mommy Blogger noun An all-American Mom who blogs about the joys of parenting, her faith, crafting, baking and budgeting; one who makes the rest of us feel inadequate; one who encourages me to start projects I'm never going to finish (wall art in the corner of the room gathering dust, I'm looking at you) and bake things that will make me fat but somehow they stay thin as rakes (I think going to church burns calories).

Mlogger noun My version of Mommy Blogger. I'm hoping it will catch on, like Brangelina or Bennifer.

Housework noun A non-essential act bragged about by Mommy Bloggers who's youngest child is 17 years old and at boarding school in Alaska; previously undertaken when visitors were expected but now reserved for Christmas and birthdays, or when rodents can be seen/heard.

Naptime noun A blissful state for all involved achieved after 30 minutes of feeding, furious eye-rubbing and loud objections; lasts anywhere from 20 to 90 minutes in babies, but can occur up to 3 times a day; a time to drink coffee, eat chocolate, play Candy Crush Saga and generally whittle away your time online.

CBF acronym "Can't be fathomed". Okay. Not really. It's "can't be f***ed", but I recommend the first version if your kid or Child Services asks.

Mummy Worry noun A constant state, beginning when you find out your are pregnant and continuing for the rest of your life.

Daddy Worry noun A constant state, beginning around 37 weeks gestation - marked by the biggest bender of your life, or buying a motorcycle or dying your hair pink - and continuing for the rest of your life; marked also by the biggest bollocking of your life, beginning with the phrase "I could have gone into labour" or, "I went into labour and you were WHAT?"

Mummy Guilt noun A constant state, beginning when you find out your are pregnant and continuing for the rest of your life; continually escalating state; manifests as anything from nail biting and nagging to visiting your adult son with home cooked meals and blocks of chocolate; can be used for evil for the purposes of getting your own way on something, but tread lightly as overuse will result in diminishing returns.

Daddy Guilt noun A diluted version of Mummy Guilt; usually related to inattention resulting in bubba engaging in a dangerous activity and getting a bump on the head; short-lived; eased with bubba cuddles.

Mount Foldmore noun That big arse pile of washing that never seems to diminish; a task conquered daily, but with little or no evidence, so you feel like you have to list it as an achievement every day when someone asks how your day was.

Mobile Phone noun Something with which to distract a small person when you are trying to get 3 extra minutes of sleep in the morning, talk to a friend, or eat lunch.

Massive Mobile Phone Bill noun Bubba called China? Worth it.

Coffee noun Caffeinated beverage enjoyed any time of the day, piping hot or lukewarm (there is no in between).

Tea noun Sort of caffeinated beverage used when excessive amounts of instant coffee have cause stomach pains.

Chocolate noun Used as a quick source of energy or endorphin boost, depending on how tired you are or how long you baby has been grizzling; for non-parents, it is an enjoyable treat taken in moderation; for parents it is an essential vitamin for the daily management of emotional well-being.

Stick it, jerk phrase A reasonable response to members of the public who offer unsolicited parenting advice or make obvious statements (eg "Gee, he's cranky"); may also be used when you step on a piece of Lego, or a seemingly dormant toy suddenly pipes up with "Let's play" just as you have finally got your baby off to sleep.

I'm not sure how much of this makes sense; I haven't edited it because we have a case of pint-sized man flu in the house. Seriously, I didn't realise it kicked in at such a young age. I assumed I had at least 7 years up my sleeve. Ah well. At least the big one doesn't have it... Yet.

Bad mum/good mum... Normal mum.

I think we've covered Mummy Worry reasonably well in the past (see it here and here for a refresher). Let's explore Mummy Guilt. From what I understand, as your child grows, so too does your Mummy Guilt. Mine is currently 7 (almost 8) months old, which compared to say, my mum's (love you, mum), it barely registers on the radar. Times it by the 3 of us, and her Mummy Guilt is off the chart (and don't even try to add on the Catholic Guilt). Regardless of the size of your Mummy Guilt, you feel it acutely. Here are a few things in the last couple of months that triggered Mummy Guilt. I know I will have many more instances in the future - probably far more dramatic than these, especially if we ever have a teenage daughter - but bare with me, I'm new to this...

1. Bad mum: Not paying close enough attention so that I confused "I'm super duper hungry" with "I wanna go home and nap".
   Good mum: Running home uphill (well, a decent incline, anyway) and singing to my increasingly cranky and STARVING baby when my milk has come in and I really need to pee.
2. Bad mum: Knowing that if I host a BBQ with my mates, my gorgeous, super sociable little fella will barely sleep and will be buzzing from all the excitement hours later... and doing it anyway.
   Good mum: Standing in the shower for 20 minutes so he can have nice, calming, warm water bouncing off his back while I shiver in the corner of the shower.
3. Bad mum: Watching Chicago with my baby boy who seems to enjoy show tunes more than Sesame Street.
   Good mum: Fast forwarding through the gratuitous sex and violence.
4. Bad mum: Drinking beer and breast feeding (not actually whilst breast feeding. I'm not the Devil).
   Good mum: Only drinking 1 and 1/2 light beers over the whole day, some of which was warm (and you know what? Still good. Which is a sign I don't drink often enough), and still being paranoid about the timing of feeds. Since it took the usual 3 hours to get him down, I'd say it was out of my system. Maybe I should consider the timing in the future... Don't judge me. You've all considered it.
5. Bad mum: Sitting up at 4am and blowing off steam online.
   Good mum: Despite being completely knackered, when little O wakes at 5.45 and wants to play, I'll get up and even be nice to him.
6. Bad mum: Telling my screaming baby that all he does is scream (and that "I wish the Goblin King would take you away. Right now").
   Good mum: Not running away after being screamed at for 2 days straight (and, if it came to it, being willing to running through The Labyrinth, meeting weird and wonderful creatures, and then facing off with David Bowie who, if memory serves, will be in tight pants, a cod piece and a massive blonde wig).
7. Bad mum: Changing the words to a lullaby to include the line "Go the f*** to sleep"
   Good mum: Starting a swear jar before he learns to speak.
8. Bad mum: Running to get the camera when O is stuck in an amusing and cute dilemma, such as wedged between the bookcase and the cushions.
   Good mum: Checking his isn't in any real peril before running off to get the camera. Extra good mum: stiffling giggles and laying on the sympathy after taking the picture.

Now that I've said them out loud, they're probably not that bad - certainly not anything he'll be describing to a psychiatrist in the future - but in those moments, I really did feel bad. In front of me, there is this beautiful, trusting, innocent person, who needs my help for so many things. But then he cries for 2 hours straight, does a poo as big as your head (totally just called you a poo head) and wont even do the most basic of things - sleep when he's tired - and you think, yeah, I'm gonna let that bit of Mummy Guilt go. I think I'll save space for the real ways I'll bugger him up. You know, like letting him watch the gratuitous bits on movies when he's 2yo.

Seven sanity savers

It's a cliche, but parenting really is 24/7, 365 (and sometimes I feel like a 24 hour diner, but that's a whole other post). You find that with this little human relying on you for, well, everything, your pre-baby coping mechanisms just don't cut it anymore. Tough day at the (baby) office? Put down that bottle of wine, pappa bear! Need to run off a tough (night) shift? Hang up those runners, mamma bear! So I can't drink... I can't buy 6 inch heels and dance away the blues... No nipping off to the movies to cheer me up... CBF exercising... What's left? Here are seven sanity savers, in no particular order, that should get you to at least 8 and a half months (that's the extent of my parenting experience):

1. Sugar: I prefer mine in the form of chocolate, but take donations of muffins, cakes and biscuits. There is some piece of research out there suggesting that mums who gorge on sugar will cause their children to become obese adults. Firstly. I'm guessing the researchers aren't mums. Secondly, they're always trying to blame mums for something. Thirdly, and I say this to my adult son: "Join an gym, go on a low carb diet and pass me that block of chocolate".
2. Caffeine: Those all-nighters I pulled at uni were barely even pre-season training for this mum thing. Think of how much coffee you used to consume when you were cramming for exams. Now double it. That's how much you need as a new parent. Now slice that number by three quarters. That's how much you can have. Now quit doing pointless Maths and go put the kettle on.
3. The Internet/Social Media: As long as you don't google symptoms, the internet is your friend, particularly during those feeds when you aren't gazing lovingly at your baby. Pretty soon you'll have more DIY and "I'm so making this" pins on your Pinterest boards than is humanly possible to complete in one lifetime, let alone with a new baby. Sure, you could pick up a book, but it's taken 8 months for my brain to thaw, and more often than not, I'm feeding in low light (someone suggested I read the Game of Thrones series. See point 5). Cut yourself some slack and read articles on buzzfeed.com about how much cabbage celebrities eat.
4. Other parents: Chose wisely. If you have a child who doesn't sleep well, surround yourself with other zombie parents. Got a fussy eater? Seek out other skinny kids with worried looking mums.  Does your kid like to experiment with new things by sticking them up his nose? Make a bee line for the baby with bright blue snot. Don't mix with people who respond to your "My baby doesn't..." stories with "Oh really? Mine does, and has done since...". There's no way the judge is gonna let you off fly kicking another parent in front of their small child. And who has time for court appearances and publicity anyway (fly kick-incidents in suburban playgrounds get the media all riled up)? After all, you now fit into advertising's "busy mum" category.
5. TV shows: It's important to distinguish between watching television and watching TV shows. You want something on DVD that you can pause for those times when you baby needs your attention. So, you know, every four minutes. You can try to watch movies, but trust me, after 4 hours you'll be confused as to why that chap in the cape is getting his butt kicked by the chick he was dating 3 hours earlier. 
6. Long showers: Hand your baby to someone else (you know the rules: no strangers who don't at least look pleasant), shut the door and turn your bathroom into a sauna. I recommend sitting on the floor of the shower and either staring into space or having a little cry. Suspend your usual concern for the environment, housework, other people etc and stay in there until either it runs cold or you are at risk of losing 7 kg and aging 43 years.
7. Hobbies: Chose something that doesn't have small parts, that can be interrupted frequently without effecting the quality of the outcome, and that is rather cheap in case you get bored of it, or forget to apply for Centrelink (*cough*). But not a blog about muddling through parenthood; that's my shtick (yeah, I'm rockin' the Yiddish). Oh, and FYI: Facebook is only a hobby if you are Mark Zuckerberg 10 years ago.