Colour Selection Day - Not As Fun As You Might Think

In the process of building a house you would be forgiven for thinking that the day you pick all of your colours and finishes would be up there on the fun-scale. After all, isn't that why you decided to build rather than buy in the first place? 

You spend months debating over the 50 shades of greige in your selection pack only to discover that "June Fog" is exactly the same colour as "Silver Pendant", drive yourself and everyone around you mad asking whether you should go for the white or dark kitchen cabinets and become so acutely aware of the various shades of Colorbond available that you can name them on sight.

By the time your plans are passed through the various councils and government bodies required to build your stock-standard, same as all the others, house, you will be sick to death of even thinking about colour schemes and just wish the bloody house was built already! 

So. Many. Greys.

Things That Go Roll In The Night

3am. A time that was once reserved for eating greasy pluto pups and staggering not-so-gracefully home from the pub. These days, there is still bleary-eyed staggering, but it is limited to the confines of my house, and there is a significant lack of pluto pups. Or booze.

The reason for my staggering lately is this:

Rolling Ninja

And his new game I like to call "I've rolled over and I need you to fix it".

The boy is super quick on the escape roll when I need to get him dressed, or change his nappy, but he has yet to work out how to roll back. 

Which is where I come in.

Were he to play the game once a night I could probably just get up, flip him back over and go back to bed. But Hayden really likes his new game, that or he is a slow learner, because the moment I get back into bed he is back on his stomach and squealing to be rescued. His current record is 5 times in half an hour.

Frankly, it's driving me bonkers.

He isn't hungry, he isn't wet, he isn't too hot or too cold. His teething seems to be inconsequential. He just likes to roll over and then complain about it. Short of stapling his sleeping bag to the mattress I am running out of ideas.

On the upside I am struggling far less with the idea of not having any more babies!

Joining in with Essentially Jess for iBOT. Pop over and check out who else has linked up.

Too Much Fun Can Be Bad For Your Sanity

The last few weeks we have had far too many of these kinds of incidents happening, both at home and when out and about. Skye has seemed highly strung, anxious and difficult. Constantly. It has made the whole family feel tense and frustrated and honestly it has not been fun to live with. It had reached the point where I was wondering if this was more than just a phase, I was beginning to wonder if there was some kind of behavioural issue we needed to identify.

Really I just needed some kind of validation it wasn't my crap parenting. 

I wanted to be able to say "It's not me, it's you". 

Going on holidays... so hard.

I mean really what is Skye's problem? She gets to do a lot of fun things. In between Preschool and swimming lessons and weekly visits from my mum there are regular play dates with friends and trips to the beach, we make play dough and cookies, we read stories and dance along with Giggle and Hoot.

Living the dream if you ask me.

Catching big fish... so hard.

But sometimes there can be too much of a good thing. 

Hey Mum, Can You Do This?

You know what I think the worst thing about being 3 is? It's not the constant talking, or the selective day sleeps or even the epic meltdowns. That shit I can handle. What I can't handle is the silliness. The general hell for leather flibitty jibbityness that goes on from the moment Skye's eyes are open to the moment her head hits the pillow. I know I should be enjoying her excited enthusiasm but honestly it's just bloody exhausting! 

                              

      

And dangerous.

Would You Like Lighting With That?

Building your own home is a tricky business. Even talking about the possibility of maybe thinking about building a house can be enough to cause a migraine. After working in the Building Industry and having some involvement in judging display homes in the area, I thought I was pretty savvy with picking out what was a standard inclusion and what was going to send our final price through the roof. As we went along and I got some written quotes from a number of different builders I gained even more insight into how much to add onto that pretty, non-threatening base price they like to throw at you in the Sales Office. After even further investigation I managed to decipher some of the vague terminology they use and what that actually means to the final product. But try as I might I still could not be confident that their final price was actually final. Add to that the fact that no two builders have the same standard of inclusions and it is almost impossible to determine who is the most suitable builder and how far your money will really go. 

In an effort to reduce the chances of someone else losing their mind as they wade through the pages of fine print, I have put together a little run down of some of the things I have encountered so far. As a general rule if it looks good in the display home, you will be paying extra for it. More specifically, expect these to be an upgrade.

Meltdown Mary

Have you ever had your child lose their shit in front of someone so spectacularly and so completely that you honestly do not know what to do? In such an instance have you ever responded in such an entirely unexpected and inappropriate way that you worry that said people may just question your abilities as a parent?

I have and I did. 

Usually I can see a meltdown coming. Believe me, in the last 3.5 years Skye has given me plenty of practice. Today, not so much. Today I was taken completely off-guard by how quickly we went from zero to inconsolable. 

A surprise attack.

One minute we were discussing my need to feed Hayden before we went outside to play in our friends new sandpit and the next minute I was being screamed at. Not about the sandpit though, oh no, that would be logical. I was being screamed at because I had forgotten to pack some DVD's for our play date as per our discussion earlier that morning. 

Yes. Sorry about that. It must have slipped my mind what with the packing for swimming lessons and remembering to post the final house plans to the builder and answering the urgent emails and how about JUST BE FUCKING HAPPY YOU ARE HAVING A PLAYDATE WITH YOUR FRIEND DAMNIT!

Even as far as Skye tantrums go, this was a pretty good one. There was arm flailing and leg stiffening and teeth gnashing. It was truly a sight to behold. 

Tantrum level: Exorcist.

Right when I thought she was about to vomit on herself I looked at her and I just could not help myself.

I laughed. 

And laughed.

In a nervous, guffawing, can't stop myself, maniacal kind of way.

This did nothing for Skye's fit of rage. 

She wasn't terribly coherent at this point but she did manage to get out an IT'S NOT FUNNY! Before throwing a couple of swings at me. 

This made me laugh even more.

Parenting level: DOCS

Had we been at home she would have been put in her room at the first shriek, but I had not expected her to put on such as show in someone else's home. The sheer ridiculousness of the whole thing caused me to freeze. 

Was this really happening? 

Why is this even happening? 

Why the hell do I bother trying to do fun things? 

At that point, I really should have taken her home and put her straight to bed but Hayden still needed to be fed and it was such a beautiful day outside I thought taking her out to the sandpit would calm her down.

That was my second mistake.

Turns out my friends excited, jumpy little Jack Russell terrier was more than she could handle and once again she was off. Thank God we were outside because the noise she was making would have been deafening indoors. 

This time there was no laughing. 

Admitting defeat I loaded the kids and my multitude of DVDless bags into the car, made my apologies and got the hell out of there. 

It took me an hour to drive the 10 minute trip home because Skye and Hayden both fell asleep before I hit the first corner and I sure as shit was not going to wake them up before they were ready!

Got any tips for dealing with mega tantrums? 

Have you ever been so floored by a child's meltdown that all you could do was laugh???

Welcome To The Danger Zone

Right now, Hayden is in that blissful stage where he is beginning to become his own little person, but has no strong views on anything. He is still yet to crawl (although I feel my days of being able to say this are numbered), he can sit on his own, feed himself pieces of food, he laughs and giggles and squeals with excitement. He sleeps. A lot. He is all-in-all a content, joyful, loving little bundle of baby boy.

This makes him dangerous.

His sweet, snuggly, chubby deliciousness is an assault on my measured and practical decision that there will be no more babies for Casa De Bond.

Welcome to the Danger Zone. 

The time when routine and predictability begins to emerge, when sleeping through is a consistent and reliable notion, when you can see a real excitement for the world around them in their eyes and your days are filled with a steady stream of 'firsts'.  The time when I am so enamoured by their squishy, smiley newness that I don't want it to end!

Cluck.

This was never part of the plan. The plan was to have two children, feel blessed and enjoy a life of regular sized cars and separate bedrooms and a balanced parent to child ratio. Aside from the whole pesky pregnancy and birth bit there is the patience factor. Something both myself and Mr Bond are quite lacking in. 

I know my limits and I know I have reached them.

But then this happens.

And this.

And then there is a little bit of this.

Suddenly the plan seems a little flawed.

Why can't he just stay this size forever?!? Is that too much to ask?

When I first held Hayden I was sure that our family was complete, my work was done, there was no need to ask for anything more. I still feel that way, but all this cute stuff is wearing me down. Selective memory is starting to kick in and all the hard stuff seems a little less hard. He didn't wake up THAT much, my nipples weren't THAT cracked, Skye didn't take THAT long to adjust. 

Honestly, the bullshit we tell ourselves.

Ask me now I feel about the matter 12 months from now when Skye will be getting ready to start big school and Hayden is heading into the terrible two's. It's highly likely I will laugh hysterically at the mere notion of more babies.

I just have to get through the Danger Zone.

Pray for me.

Err, not you Hayden, that's not helping.

Newborns: Not So Scary The Second Time Around

Throughout my pregnancy with Hayden I worried about how I would cope with the newborn phase again. When Skye was born I wasn't hit with the instant overwhelming bond of mother and babe. I knew she was mine, I knew that I loved her, but she scared me. I felt a little lost and unsure as I am sure most first time mums feel. Even though my birth experience with Skye was by comparison straightforward and dare I say it, even easy, I felt that I had " failed" because we had required Ventouse. 

I struggled with breastfeeding, and swaddling and putting tiny hands in Wondersuits. But more than anything, I had not come to grips with the complete change to your every waking thought and movement a baby has. I spent much of those early months with Skye resenting the demands of a newborn and how unaffected those around me seemed to be. I put a lot of pressure on myself to get everything "right" and missed a little of the magic.

Skye was gorgeous but scary.

8 Months Old Already?!?

Hayden turned 8 months old this week. I cannot get over how quickly the time is going. Skye seemed to be 3 months old forever and because I knew we would have more babies, I didn't feel so desperate to hold onto every moment of baby like I do this time. This time I just want him to stay this size forever. But since that is entirely impossible, the next best thing is to write a totally self indulgent post detailing all of the things I love about my little boy right now.

I took Hayden for his check up with the baby nurse this week. He weighs 9.3kgs and is 73cms long. He is wearing size 1 clothing and "toddler" size nappies. I have already filled 2 suitcases with clothing that he has grown out of. His healthy development does nothing to ease my sadness that he is no longer a tiny newborn.