Yesterday I took the children for a picnic at the park to catch up with Leigh, and Rah, and Kerrie and Brad.

Yesterday was just a mess from the time I woke up. You know those days that go wrong before you’re even fully conscious. That was my yesterday. But we eventually arrived at the park, and I started to relax and have a good time.

And then I lost Hugo. He’d been playing close by in the playground area, always within sight and earshot. I tend to be a bit more relaxed with Hugo because he is not a child who wanders off, he was never a runner, and has a highly developed sense of risk and safety. One moment he was in the playground, the next he was nowhere to be seen. It was literally within seconds.

I am so grateful that I was there with these guys, they all scattered immediately to help me look, and fortunately he showed up within a couple of minutes. But those minutes … my brain just went wild with possible scenarios - had someone grabbed him from the playground? had he fallen in the lake? was he wandering around crying, wondering where I was? Every morbid news story I’d read about child abduction and accidents - and it happened so quickly, that was the scary thing. It was so, so fast.

He’d actually gone to feed the ducks with Leigh’s children. They looked after him so well, he was totally fine to go with them. He told me “I’m fine Mummy, I’m with the big kids” and he really was fine. I really didn’t want to let my panic show, and just told him that he needed to tell me every time he was going to leave the playground so I knew where he was.

It makes me wonder and worry. I was lucky yesterday, I was with friends and had help right there. What happens next year when I’m in a country with no social network, where I don’t even speak the primary language? How do I let my children grow up without restricting their experiences but still keep them safe?

The unthinkable has happened at last. It was bound to, I suppose. Lovely husband absent-mindedly asked me a question, and called me “Mummy”. Even though contextually the children where both there and theoretically he could have just been calling me that for their benefit, it was just wrong, and he knew it. Before I’d even had time to formulate my witty-yet-cutting retort, he was already apologising profusely. *sigh*

I have to make a concerted effort to introduce myself by my name first, rather than as “Hugo’s mum” at preschool and other places to the parents of his peers.

For a little while now that the whole Mummy thing is starting tohas started feel suffocating. Not in a “walk out the door and never return” way, but I feel like I need something else. That until I actually have to get organised, I never will be. It’s obviously not going to happen overnight, and there’s almost no chance of me studying or working next year, but I am starting to think about what else I want to do with my life. I think it’s partly because I’m just sick of dealing with the “Is Daddy coming home tonight?” aspect combined with Sophie growing up and knowing that she’s really not a baby anymore, and there are no more babies on the horizon, so maybe, just maybe, I can start to spare some of my remaining mental capacity to something else. (more…)

Tuesdays are our do nothing, unplanned days. This morning it seemed like a good idea to take the children into the City. There’s a book I want to get and I have a 25% off voucher for Borders, there are a couple of shops that are having winter clearances and I thought it would be a good chance to get some warm clothes for next year, and there’s a Medicare office near those stores and I have receipts to submit.

Of course the trick is get Hugo excited about leaving the house … the impossible dream. He hates going out, especially to the “shops”. So I said, “let’s catch a bus” which seemed like a good idea until I was trying to get a toddler, a preschooler, myself, a stroller and our substantial nappy bag on the bus and THEN scrabbling about to find money for a ticket. He loved it though.

Borders didn’t have the book I wanted.

The stores had no suitable warm clothing (although I was pretty much expecting that).

I forgot my medicare card.

I don’t really understand when it got so difficult to be mobile with two small children. It’s not just the bus, I had a shocking experience at our local shopping centre yesterday and we drove there. I forgot to pay for some of my groceries so had to go back after lugging everything to the car. I’d bought some sushi for lunch (bad idea, even on a good day) and was eating it in the car before we went home. I had too much wasabi and had tears pouring down my face, my nose was streaming … I tried to scull diet coke to stop the burn and THAT doesn’t work … while trying to clean myself up with the woefully inadequate serviette. When I’d finally sorted myself out, a little voice from the back seat asked “Mummy …. are we home yet?”

“Yes Hugo. We’re home. I’ve decided we’re going to live in this car park, in the car, from now on. OK?”.

“OK Mummy” >.<

We are about 2.5 months into this six month stint of him working away during the week, and tonight, right now, I have officially reached my limit. This has been a particularly shitty week, culminating tonight with Hugo waking at midnight with a fever and rigoring. It’s not the first time he’s reacted to illness like this. Last winter was quite bad and involved several bouts of tonsilitis and a trip to the ED at the children’s hospital. This winter hasn’t been so bad other than a frightening episode of croup early in the season.

I consider myself so lucky that my children are generally well, healthy children, other than the usual colds and occasional stomach virus. Nonetheless, when they do get sick it can be really scary. Tonight when he woke up whimpering and shaking uncontrollably I was so scared. I thought it was probably ‘normal’ illness but at midnight, when you’ve got no-one to bounce ideas off, to share the fear with, and you’re the only one responsible, it’s scary. I brought him into my bed where he eventually settled and fell asleep, only to wake shortly after with a high fever, more rigoring and vomit spectacularly in my bed.

I hate doing this on my own … not just the gross stuff, like cleaning up vomit … but the emotional stuff, holding a sobbing, frightened baby and soothing him while inside all I want is *my* mummy to come and make it all better (and believe me, when *I* want my mummy, things are pretty grim).

I really resent all the time he is away from us, leaving me to pick up the pieces and carry on, envying him his full night vomit free sleep, his Tuesday night dinners with his colleagues, being able to pee and shower without an audience. Meanwhile I am here coping (or not) with one child who won’t eat and one who won’t stop eating, juggling bedtimes and trying to give them each some special one-on-one time without neglecting the other, trying to think of fun things we can do and usually failing.

I absolutely don’t know how single parents do this day in and day out without a break in sight.

I know he’s doing this because he’s paid to, and his high paying job means I can stay at home with the children but tonight it’s just not worth it It’s not good for our family and it’s not good for our marriage.

I weaned Sophia last week. It was a decision fraught with guilt (how could I deprive my child of nourishment and comfort?), exhaustion (waking up 2-6 times a night starts to get to you after 14 months) and desperation (trying to cope with my husband away during the week).

I think breastfeeding is great. It’s cheap, it’s convenient, it’s so good for the baby (and usually, mum) and for me, it was usually pretty easy.

Hugo, who was never as passionate about the boob as Sophia, weaned himself at 14 months. Sophia on the other hand, although she eats an extensive solids diet, showed no inclination towards breastfeeding less, even at this age. The first couple of days were hard (really hard) for us both but she settled into it much more quickly than I was expecting.

Given there are no more babies for us, I guess this is goodbye maternity bras, goodbye cracked nipples, goodbye exposing my poor girls to the freezing air in the middle of a winter night. It’s also goodbye to those special snuggly times, goodbye blissed-out milk drunk baby smiles, goodbye to being The One who provides her comfort and nourishment simultaneously.

I feel really lucky to have had the breastfeeding relationships I have with my children, both experiences were good ones. I am a little bit sad to see it ending, but also really excited to be moving onto a new phase in our life together (and especially loving sleeping through the night!).