A week of ailments

I just thought I'd share with you the kind of week I had about a fortnight ago. This is an extract from an email I sent to a friend at the time:

• Friday night: Confirmed Miss Chief has threadworms.
• Saturday: Got medication from pharmacy and treated entire family ('cept Happy One). Washed all bed clothes, sheets and towels. Cleaned toilets. On way home from pharmacy noticed car sounded a bit funny.
  
• Later on Saturday: discovered Miss Chief has ringworm (fungal skin infection, highly contagious).
• Sunday: Back to pharmacy for cream for ringworm. Washed all Chief's sheets, towels and nightwear again.
• Monday: Happy One, who was already under the weather, became very unwell. Couldn't put him down all day. Made good use of the baby sling. Chief was also off colour - possibly due to tiredness, possibly due to worm medication, possibly attention seeking because Happy One wasn't well. At one point I had him in the sling and I was carrying her. A friend rescued me by bringing her kids to meet us at the park and then inviting Chief round for dinner.
  
• Tuesday: Map Man took the car to a mechanic who said it had water damage from the floods last week and he shouldn't really drive it until an auto-electrician could fix it.
• Wednesday: Read that ringworm can come from cats so took both cats to vets. No ringworm but both cats are overweight, especially Monty who also has an ear infection. So I'm now treating him with antibiotic drops and they're both on a diet.
• Thursday: Rode bike to work as no car. Then auto-electrician fixed car. Happy One slowly getting better and ringworm starting to fade. Unfortunately Map Man is now really off-colour.
• Today: Map Man is still sick with a stomach bug. Am thinking things can only get better.

I was wrong. Map Man stayed unwell for another couple of days. He was just starting to brighten up again when I started to feel rotten about four days after writing the above. Around the same time Mother In Law, who stayed with us whilst Map Man was ill, supposedly so he could work but he was so sick he slept and moaned the whole time instead, also became ill. We're both only just becoming right again over a week later.

Meanwhile, our kids have been driving us mad at night so we're sleep training both of them. I guess that's for another post but in the Chief's case we have resorted to bribery. She is progressing so clearly bribery works. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Sick Boy and Cake Girl

Well, we survived five days without Toby. Sort of. Toby's mum came to help us for a few days. And we survived that too. JOKE. Obviously. She barely survived though, poor woman. The first morning she was here Phoebe woke up at 4.30am. I settled her back down and got back into bed. Then Ash woke up so I got up to feed him and then Phoebe woke up again. So Toby's poor mother ended up taking Phoebe into her bed and of course she didn't go back to sleep. Things didn't improve much after that.

Anyway, there is many a story from those few days and not all of them suitable for my blog I'm afraid. But I got a night out with a girl friend. Which was fab. Had a beautiful eye fillet, medium rare. Felt tipsy after a glass of bubbly and 3/4 glass of red. And I also got to spend my pamper voucher from work which I used on the most gorgeous wonderful facial, after which I should not have been allowed to drive.

After Toby's mum left, Phoebe went for a sleepover with her cousins and I had a lovely evening in. Made myself a curry, drank beer, watched Wire In The Blood in a quiet house. Lovely.

Ash is poorly, poor sweet boy. He has a stuffy nose. And a horrible cough. He's been checked by a doctor twice in the last ten days when we've been in for other things. Both times his chest has been clear which is a relief. But it has got markedly worse in the last couple of days. Sometimes he coughs uncontrollably. Two days in a row now, when I've sat him up after a feed he's coughed so much his entire feed has come back up and all over the both of us. He must have regurgitated 150-200ml of milk each time. I had to fully change both of us and have a shower. It was quite something. His eyes are gunky too. I really should be online looking up remedies instead of blogging. Actually I should be in bed. After a few really good nights' sleep, which I needed because I didn't get much whilst Toby was away and was run into the ground, we've had a couple of shockers. I'll put him back in his cot after a feed and he'll start to cough and then that's it. Wide awake. For two hours. Ug! He still manages to be the loveliest, smiliest, happiest little baby though. Here's a (crappy iPhone 3G) photo of him yesterday, not quite as poorly as he was today but right when he was due a sleep nonetheless. 

Meanwhile, Phoebe's cake making skills are improving considerably. On rainy days I help her make a chocolate cake in a mug. It's cheap, super easy and almost small enough for her to eat it all herself. Basically I don't care how it turns out (and neither it seems does she) so it's far less stressful than letting her help me bake. Today was the second time we'd done it and last time I drew the recipe for her. Today she helped me identify some of the ingredients - except she thought butter was cheese. Interesting. And she did most of the measuring, putting the tablespoon into the flour jar and counting out four spoons of flour. She even sliced it up herself using her new knife. Clever little girl. Here she is with her first mug cake a couple of months ago.

Toby's favourite parenting moment (so far) came when Phoebe took him a slice of her cake and said, "Here is some cake for you, Daddy." The first bit of cake she had ever baked and then sliced for him. It melted his heart and he said it is the best cake he's ever had.

Night walking

Well this is a first.

I'm writing this at 7.30pm at night whilst pushing Phoebe around the block in her pram in an attempt to get her to sleep. I have no idea whether or not this is the right thing to do with a 14 month old but as Toby is tutoring at uni tonight I had no one to bounce ideas off.

Phoebe has been a bit all over the place since we visited the in-laws for Easter. Whilst there she slept well at night but did not want to nap during the day. One night I had to sit with my hand on her back til she fell asleep. Since we got home she has started the transition to 1 sleep (more on that later), sleeping well during the day but then struggling (read screaming) to sleep at night. I think that she's possibly a bit overtired by bedtime due to her changing daytime sleep routine. But just to confound matters she now has a cold which seems to be irritating the hell out of her.

So tonight I had to assume that's what was keeping her up. I felt cruel otherwise. Hence the walk.

Anyway. It's worked and we're home. The question remains: now what?


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In sickness and in health: Mother Guilts, and The Debate of the Working Mother

For a while now I've been meaning to post an update on what it's like to be a working mother. Especially after my many rants on the issue.

Generally, it hasn't been too bad. Actually it's been pretty good. Apart from the weight of the imminent five-day week hanging heavy on my shoulders. I have managed to persuade my boss to let me work four days a week until the end of April, based primarily on some back problems I've had lately. Same old story: pelvic instability flared up again due to lack of mobility. Basically I wasn't doing enough exercise after getting back to work and sitting in a chair all day made things even worse. That's on the mend now but I asked for the extra time to make sure that I can fit activity into my week. If I have a bad back I'm no good to them or Phoebe. So, the boss said "yes, but that's your lot".

So that's that then. Absolutely no chance of part-time work. Unless, of course I take up the matter with HR but I suspect that would do more harm than good so I'm not going to.

Phoebe settled in well at daycare, and quickly too. She has bonded with her carers, loves the toys and books there and gets to go and play with the older children in the late afternoon, which she seems to like. She's been a happy, well-adjusted little baby and has done us proud. She no longer cries when we pick her up or drop her off and even dropped her late afternoon breastfeed. She still has sleep issues but seems to cope okay. Toby and I have often commented on how her adaptability has made the transition of me going back to work, and putting her in daycare, so much easier than it could have been.

Then she got sick and everything changed.

Last Thursday night I was on the phone to me skin and blister getting all the lowdown on the birth of her beautiful 3 day-old son, Ben, when I heard Phoebe cry. It was about 9pm, an unusual time for her to wake, and she sounded strange. Eventually Toby called me in and my poor baby was sitting in her cot, pale, crying, very upset, having vomited raspberry jelly on her sheets. First attack of the Mother-Guilts for having fed her the jelly in the first place. It's a rare treat and she'd been such a glutton at tea-time I thought she'd appreciate some dessert.

Then I wondered whether she was sick because after her bath, I'd come out of her room to find her sitting on the kitchen floor eating from the pile of dropped food that I'd swept up. Second attack of the Mother-Guilts for having not actually put the food pile in the bin and not having watched her like a hawk.

Oh, and of course I felt guilty because I'd been half listening to her cry, half listening to my sister telling me about the midwife popping a water sac next to Ben's head, and at the same time thinking, "maybe she'll go back to sleep in a minute". Even though I knew it was an unusual time for her to wake up and she sounded strange.

Anyway, I comforted Phoebe and checked her nappy whilst Toby changed her sheets but she wouldn't stop crying. Eventually I took her to our room for a change of scene where she threw up again. Next attack of the Mother-Guilts when I realised I felt slightly relieved that it wasn't the jelly that had made her sick.

We knew friends who'd recently had a 24 hour vomiting bug so we figured that's what it was and Toby contacted them for advice. The best advice they gave us was to give her water from a spoon at regular intervals. Anything more than that and she'd throw up again. She vomited about 5 times over the next four hours and retched every 15-20 minutes. Finally I managed to get her in her cot but she still woke up crying every hour and just needed me to rub her back before she'd fall asleep again. I slept on her bedroom floor for part of the night but even when I got to my own bed I was alert to the slightest noise she made. She was unwell for the whole of the next day and slept on me for most of it, vomiting another couple of times. Once when she tried to eat a corner of my toast and again when she grabbed my water bottle and gulped it down.

The following day both Toby and I got the same bug and were also horribly ill. It probably lasted about 2-3 days for us but Phoebe is still off her food and now has a nasty cold.

And to put all this in context, on Thursday I had my first attack of the guilts with regards to dropping Phoebe off at daycare. She was really really clingy with me and still didn't have her usual gluttonous appetite back. The previous day I'd had to work late so I got Toby's mum to pick her up from daycare. I still went to zumba so I only really saw her for an hour that night. The night before that Toby had put Phoebe to bed. So basically I think she was missing me.

I knew she'd be fine once she got to daycare and I really didn't feel comfortable taking another day off work as I'd missed two in the last week. Still, she was happy if I was giving her lots of attention and unhappy otherwise so I knew she just wanted some time with me. It probably didn't help that Toby's mum was there and, naturally, was concerned about Phoebe. She was very tired and due for a nap but she often is around the time we take her to daycare. I felt torn but took her in anyway and asked them to call me if she was miserable.

Ever since then I've felt awful, especially as the next day at daycare she "didn't have a good day", and now she's got this yucky cold, which was obviously ramping up on Thursday morning. I can remember what it's like to be a little girl, not quite feeling yourself, and just wanting your mammy. My mammy was always there for me when I was unwell. Apart from the time I had earache and she had to go to university and I ended up lying on the floor at Gran's house, with my ear on a hot water bottle, watching the telly through a mirror. But I was probably 12 by then. Not that it matters. I mean, I'm 34 now but I still wished my mam had been there to look after me when I was sick last weekend. It just broke my heart that I couldn't be there for my little girl.

I know this is just a blip. Phoebe will get better and she will want to go to daycare again but it has just opened up the can of worms again. I'm sure I can't work full-time but I'm also nervous about working part-time. I mean if I'm only there three days a week anyway then taking three days off because one or both of us is sick means I miss a whole week. I can't half do a job. I'm either committed or I'm not. That's not to say that my job is more important than my baby. Absolutely not.  Obviously if she's sick or injured I'm there for her 100%. But there are some days when it isn't black and white. Days when she's just not in the mood. She just wants a quiet day with her mammy. She's just feeling a bit sensitive or tired. How can I justify keeping her home from daycare and me home from work on those days? I mean, it's not like she has a lot of them but still... It is hard for me that I can't be there for her on those days. (Although it's possibly a good thing as they're exhausting and can drive you a bit balmy.)

Another reason I'm nervous about part-time work is that it means leaving my current job and all the nice things that go with it. I've been there for 6 years. I like the people I work with. I enjoy the work for the most part. I know the environment very well. I understand the business. I know how my clients work. I'm confident. I get paid well, I get good superannuation (pension). It's close to home. I can ride my bike there and pick Phoebe up on the way home. It's a nice environment. Whilst a move might be to something better, I could also end up much further away, meaning that I see even less of Phoebe on the days that I'm working. I might end up having to contract, which means I won't get paid for the days that Phoebe is sick, and I wouldn't get super.

I went to university so that I could build a good life for myself and my future family but I really didn't think about how that might work. I guess I thought I'd have saved lots of money by now. And I didn't really understand how I would feel. So, the jury is out, the debate is ongoing. Nothing has changed. Although I do think small amounts of daycare are good for a child with Phoebe's disposition, I still don't think that long days, or lots of days are good. She's still too young and is there longer than I'd like.

I currently feel like I can't win. If I don't work, I'm not bringing in any money, plus I don't think it would be that good for my mental health. I was already starting to get demotivated at the end of last year. There's no hurry to do anything when you're at home every day. You can always do it tomorrow. If I do work, I'm not there for Phoebe when she needs me. I mean, Toby can be there for her, and maybe it wouldn't make any difference to her which of her parents is there, but I suspect that isn't the case. Toby's relationship with Phoebe is slightly different, probably because he didn't spend ten months at home with her, he didn't grow her inside of him and he hasn't breastfed her for the last 13 months. It doesn't matter how much equality we want, or get, between the sexes, fundamentally we are very different. And we offer different things to our children as a result. And that's a good thing. But when the nurturer, the soother, the parent who really comforts you and cuddles you when you're sad or sick, the parent who just lets you feel that way and sits with you through it, instead of trying to cheer you up or distract you with toys, when that parent can't be there for a child, that's not a good thing.

And I suppose this is never-ending Debate of the Working Mother.

Aliens took my baby...

... and left one of themselves in her place.

I started writing a post about routine (to follow soon) only to have Phoebe get sick and throw herself back out of her routine.

At first I blamed Toby. He was frustrated at having to stay home for two hours twice a day so that she could sleep in her cot.

"You're frustrated?" I proclaimed. "You only have to do it two days of the week. How do you think I feel? I have to do it every day."

Anyway, this one particular day when I was too tired to argue, Toby decided that we'd stay out all afternoon and that Phoebe could darn well go to sleep in her pram.

"She doesn't sleep very well in her pram," I protested meekly. "And you'll probably only get her to sleep if you walk her in virtual silence for twenty minutes first."

He ignored me and went for a walk with Adam. I was behind with Bec and after about five minutes of the blokes chatting I figured he must have given up with Phoebe as she was standing up in her bassinet, holding onto the hood and looking out of the front of the pram. There's a reason why women were granted the position of being the primary rearer of children. Incidentally, the bassinet is now being put away for use by any future siblings of Phoebe's as it is obvious she is way too mobile for it now. Standing up... I mean, really.

So anyway, she didn't sleep and the next day was a bit out of whack but not too bad but the following day it all started to go rapidly downhill. Over the next two days she started to wake up about 30 or 40 minutes into her afternoon nap and then have another sleep when she would normally wake up. At night it would take her 30 minutes or more to fall asleep where it used to take 5-10.

It turns out that it was Toby's fault but not for the reason I first suspected. No, what had actually happened was that he had given her the lurgy. Again! (He was poorly a few weeks ago and then passed it onto Phoebe before buggering off to Sydney for the week so she was unwell for all but a day that he was gone and then made a miraculous recovery about two hours before his plane landed. Bloody typical.)

For the last three nights (not including tonight... touch wood) Toby has had to take Phoebe out in the car to help her get to sleep. She's had a disgusting runny nose, has been off her food and just generally annoyed with the world. This is a man-sized cold. I know, because Toby told me how a friend he stayed with in Sydney had it and was the angriest man in the southern hemisphere. Toby then contracted it days after arriving home and he became pretty shitty too. So imagine how my poor baby must be feeling.

Anyway, today when I wasn't looking aliens landed and took her away. They were kind enough to leave a little alien being in her place. This thing has green goo coming out of its nose (see photograph). It is very curious about our food but seems to think it is a device for testing the gravity of our planet. It knows a bit about breastfeeding but thinks it can get milk from parts of the boob other than the nipple, and even from the arm. It has a shrill shriek and it writhes around after feeding as though trying to burrow into me for a sleep (like the opposite of the film where the thing bursts out of people). It really is quite peculiar. I do hope that they bring Phoebe back tonight, preferably without her cold.