Tag: parenting

Travelling for work: Tips to help kids when they’re missing Mummy or Daddy

Travelling for work: Tips to help kids when they’re missing Mummy or Daddy

Dave returns today from an 11 day work trip and lord that plane can’t get to Auckland soon enough.  I find it super hard to parent without Dave as he’s the steady, stable half and I’m the emotionally fractious one who struggles to hold her shit 

Meeting Friday with a Fistpump

Meeting Friday with a Fistpump

Every time Dave goes away for work, which is far too often at the moment, I brace myself, I fortify my parenting intentions, I pray for congenial children, I clear my schedule and I cross my fingers. Dave left at 3.30am Monday morning and it’s 

How to Have the Best Mother’s Day EVER, Simplified

How to Have the Best Mother’s Day EVER, Simplified

Preface: I truely hope all the Mama’s, the Step-mums, Foster mums, Nanas, Dads doing it solo, extended family superstars and anyone raising loved and happy little people had a amazing day yesterday however you chose to spend it x


After careful, mostly, scientific analysis- you know how we do it here at The Best Nest! – of the many Mother’s Day facebook posts, tweets, Instagram pics and blog posts it appears that however you were celebrated (or forgotten as the case may be) on your special day of Mothering, there are two definite camps when it comes to Mother’s Day expectations and we will all fit into either one or the other.

This year it seems that there were many successes, many gifts of Chocolate Salty Balls Lindor Sea Salt Caramel Truffles and many happy Mums.  But there were also disappointments, cries of ‘the WORST Mother’s Day EVER’ were heard ringing around the country as husbands failed to meet expectations which had been cumulatively lowered each year anyway.  Kids couldn’t stop bitching for ‘one damned day’ and the breakfast in bed failed to cook itself……again.

So, I’ve thought about this long and hard and come up with an easy dichotomy with which Mum’s and partners can easily identify and avoid future Mother’s Day mishaps at all costs.  It’s best you figure out which kind of mother you are as early on in your blessed parenting journey as possible as this will make for many happy annual celebrations of your uterine prowess.

Type 1.  The Mother-Me-Up-All-Day-Long on Mother’s Day Mother

This mother is the one for whom kindergarten teachers toil long and hard supervising their minions and churning out craft-paper cards year after year.  This mother knows what she wants and she wants a day with the kids and her partner if applicable. She wants celebratory brunches with family, cards with badges saying “#1 MUM”,  she wants special ‘family’ outings and activities, walks on the beach – together!  She wants to cram in as much mothering as she can on this special day that’s just for her.  She’s easy to please so flowers from the neighbor’s garden picked by dimpled wee hands will be perfect.  

There are potential problems though so be warned.  The potential for children to ruin this mother’s perfect Mother’s Day is huge.  Kids get mothered every day of the year, so their natural urge for extra-mothering on Mother’s Day may not coincide with the lunar calendar.  In short, the kids could turn on a dime, refuse to play nice and retreat into the bickering asshole state that simmers below their cherubic exterior.  As the Mother-Me-Up-All-Day-Long Mother’s happiness on Mother’s Day is dependent upon the ‘Happy Family’ experience, bribing the kids is recommended.

This mother is not me.

Type 2.  The Give-me-Peace-and-Quiet-Whilst-Rewarding-Me-From-Afar Mother

This Mum loves you, but does not need you all up in her grill on Mother’s Day.  It’s HER day after all, and she is quite happy to spend it as far away from the sticky, clutching dimpled hands of her gorgeous babes as she sees fit.  This may be just in her room.  With earplugs in.  And the door locked for a few hours.  It’s respite she craves, a break from routine.  She may want to FINISH a book!  Or start one, let’s be real.  This mama doesn’t need a family outing, she would rather have a bath by herself, or a pedicure, let me emphasize this point; no Mum is ever going to be disappointed with a pedicure for a gift.  This mama may seem like a weirdo, but she’s really just like you or me.  Ok she is me, and what she really wants is to be rewarded for her duties to family life by a lack of family life for a day, even half a day would suffice.  Too easy.

The main problem with Type #2 mothers is about half-way though their allotted Mother’s Day exile the guilty pangs will begin to set in.  Hateful little stabbing knives that ruin the peace of child/husband free solitude and threaten to sabotage the illusion of calm.  The guilt expands into full blown hallucinations which culminate in the Type #2 actually thinking that maybe she got it all wrong and she’s really a Type #1 after all and where are her babies, WHERE??????  “Let me MOTHER THEM!!!!!”.

It’s so, so sad.

So basically, you can’t win.  But you can survive Mother’s day.  Find yourself a charming little anecdote with which to bolster your spirits and soldier on until wine o’clock.  I love this little one I received on a gorgeous handmade card from my friends at My Fun Box;

Mums are like buttons…..

They hold everything together!

Hold it together Mamas, there’s always next year xx

 

 

 

 

Thou shalt not judge my parenting on Mondays

Thou shalt not judge my parenting on Mondays

Nix turns two in 2 months and he’s all about the tantrums.  All.  The.  Time. I can deal with this just fine, however, a grande mal paddy sometimes causes a bit of a time crunch when you are trying to leave the house by 9.30am.  God 

These are my people.  Even the toddler.

These are my people. Even the toddler.

Yesterday I turned 36. Ok.  I’m cool, just had to let that sink in for a minute. Having 2 kids with an 8.5 year age gap means that the four of us often go in different directions. If Ethan has a rugby game and it’s 

Flying by the seat of my pants.

Flying by the seat of my pants.

Last week saw the somewhat anticipated beginning of Term 2. After a lovely, lazy two weeks of school holidays E left the house last Monday happy and ready to get stuck in to another school term. Compared to holidays past, the Easter break was chilled and calm. I made no School Holiday Activity Lists as I have done in the past, in fact there were only two days of ‘planned’ excursions over the entire break. Quel horreur!
It was bloody good. And cheap.
The Problem With Last Week began upon Ethan’s return to school. See, I forgot to kick myself out of school holiday mode and spent the rest of the week trying to remove my head from my ass the clouds and get some shit done.  Nixie was very busy getting shit done as he picked up another bout of rotavirus the week before, let the good times roll!  

So it was the kind of week where permission slips and gold coins were scrambled for 5 minutes after E was supposed to leave for school, dinners were freezer-to-microwave affairs – unplanned and unremarkable, I was out two nights, further complicating matters and leaving me even less time to, well, not do Very Important Stuff.  Like be an awesome mum and wife : (

Sigh.

The ‘work’ week ended with Dave and I having a big fight about an outdoor project we were going to be completing over the weekend.  Ridiculous, but the culmination of a very stressful week for Dave and a useless, self-absorbed week for me.  I’ve been focussing on all the wrong things, neglecting the right things and letting my beautiful family slip by the wayside.

This week will be better.  The work week is already a day shorter so I’m winning already.  We had such a great long weekend, Dave and I are totally back on the same page and aside from him smashing his face skateboarding in the weekend and chipping a tooth badly (read: $$$), I’m ready to rock this week!

I hope you guys are on track for an amazing week too xx

 

Hello Nixon | 20 Months “BUBBY-do”

Hello Nixon | 20 Months “BUBBY-do”

 These are the days you wait for. I also have a feeling these are the days you miss the most when they are gone.  My faithful sidekick, with me every minute of the day, screaming “BUBBY-do!!” at every turn, at every milestone throughout the day 

The lost art of “getting shit done”

The lost art of “getting shit done”

Today I crossed one task off my to-do list and added 4 more. One. The tasks on my list are not even that onerous or time consuming.  They simply require my undivided attention for a small period of time.  Therein lies the conflict. Nixon is 

Turning a corner | Weaning my toddler

Turning a corner | Weaning my toddler

Nix has always hated the car.  Vehemently.   Road trips are a knife edge experience of gritted teeth as we wait for him to lose the plot and turn on his air raid sirens.  Child is L O U D.  He has been this way since birth, and looking back I wonder if his body position in the capsule and carseat was painful for his wee tummy for his first 9 months pre-Hirschsprungs diagnosis.  Until he was about 6 months old he would be in tears or close to it after only 5 minutes into our journey.  School pick-ups were a nightmare if we arrived early, let’s just say Ethan never had trouble finding the car thanks to his baby brother!  I also suffered a lot of postpartum pain for months after Nixon’s birth,  the simple task of getting the capsule in and out of the truck required heroic effort that I simply didn’t have most of the time.

So, we stayed at home a lot in the early days.

Yesterday we popped up the road to go to the bank, the post office and the vege stand – no stroller or carrier and I didn’t hold Nix while in the shops.  Because this little free spirit is generally a non-compliant tornado, I’m quite loathe to let him loose in public, however it’s time for him to learn and for me to get over my mental block regarding taking Nix out and about. Yesterday he we did great.  Awesome even!  Quite a line in the post office sent fear shooting through my heart, but we survived with only a small tantrum when Nix couldn’t press the eftpos buttons for me – that I can handle.

I was driving home and we were chatting away about diggers and diesel in the truck, Our House, ‘Nouie’ = Louie and a myriad of Nixon’s other favorite topics, when I realised it was all I could do not to pull over and just sit and stare at him, to try and drink him up with my eyes.  

I remember being wonder-struck with Ethan at around the same age.  This Autumn season of baby-ness before they turn 2 is one of my favorite ages.  Every day when he wakes, Nix seems to be joining more and more words together, finding new and more inventive ways to make mess and lavishing hugs and kisses on all of us with much gusto.  

What’s really got me feeling all gooey is that I know it’s time for me to stop breastfeeding.  Nix will be 20 months in a couple of days and is 15 kilograms of raging baby bull.  Feeding this particular baby bull is no easy task.  He yanks and pulls and whips his head around, he kicks my face and thrashes like a shark in a net.  It ain’t pretty.  But it’s quite lovely still.  I’m ready to move on but I know without a shadow of a doubt that Nixon will not give up the boob on his own.  After months of thought and ummming and ahhhing over the issue, today was the day we started weaning – no good reason why, I just had an idea I thought I’d try.

Nix asked for milk {or guhhhguhhh as he calls it, don’t ask!} at around morning tea time which was weird as he never usually feeds then anyway.  I jumped up and said “guhhhhguhh all done, but you can have some Big Boy Milk”.  I proceeded to make a huge fuss about the pouring of the Big Boy Milk, complete with a fancy bendy straw, and voila!  The boy drank cows milk.  Just like that.  

Naptime at 1pm was not quite as easy, there were tears but we survived.  Just.  At bedtime Dave and I introduced a new routine of quiet time with both of us, a book and some more Big Boy Milk.  I followed this with his normal nighttime routine, sans breastfeeding of course, and it worked.  He asked again for good ol’ guhhhguhhh, but I stuck with the party line of “all done”  and that was that.  Off to sleep without a peep.

And I just feel conflicted, sad and weird.  But I’m also damn ready to ditch these crappy bras I’ve been wearing for 2 years and put on a dress!

So wish Nixon and I luck.  He’ll be fine.  Me, well, time will tell x

Toddler Weaning New Zealand Mummy Blog

Toddler Swimming Lessons | The Great Equaliser

Toddler Swimming Lessons | The Great Equaliser

In true second child fashion, Nixon began swimming lessons last week at the ‘advanced’ age of 19 months.  Ethan on the other hand, had his swimming debut at 3 months and has never stopped – 10 years of swimming $!$ Dave and I were in