Yes I admit it. Sometimes my house is very clean and tidy and organised, but most of the time it is not. I have now mastered the art at making it "presentable" in fifteen minutes, which basically means, all the toys are shoved back into the toy corner, all the clutter is hidden somewhere and the dishes are stacked neatly, and the clothes that would normally litter my house are in the laundry. But the "cleaning" side of my house is only done weekly.
Sometimes, I get up and give the twins a meusli bar for breakfast, because I cant be bothered making them toast. Sometimes I don't do the dishes every day, and sometimes I don't vacuum for an entire week. Yes, sometimes I even dress the twins in what I want them to wear the next day - for bed. Sometimes I don't bath my kids.
Yes, I admit it. Sometimes you can't see my living room floor. And sometimes there is so much washing in the laundry that I worry about everyone running out of clean clothes. Sometimes Paige doesn't have a clean uniform for school. Sometimes I forget it is mufti day and I send her to school in her uniform. Thankfully SHE usually remembers it is mufti day. Sometimes I am searching through the clean laundry to find clothes for everyone to wear, because I haven't folded it.
Sometimes I forget to pay for things at Paiges school like shows and trips until the last minute. Sometimes I get to naptime on my days off and instead of doing housework I sit down. Sometimes I don't clean the toilet for two days in a row. Sometimes I get to work-days and sit in a big messy house that stares at me and makes me feel guilty.
Yes. I am a lazy-arsed mother. I sacrifice doing everything perfectly so I can hang out with my kids. I sacrifice doing everything perfectly so I get some re-charge time and don't go completely insane. I sacrifice doing everything perfectly because I am human.
That's not an excuse. That's a fact. I am a human being, inside me I have all these weird things called "feelings" and "needs" and if they are not acknowledged and soothed then yes, I lose it.
Those are the days I am grouchy from when I wake up until I go to bed. And on those days I take shortcuts. I lay on the floor and let my kids climb on me for "quality time" because it requires the least amount of energy. I feed them out of cans for dinner and I might even forget to brush their teeth. I find the shortest story possible to read to them and yes, I admit it, sometimes I tell Paige its 7:00 at 6:30 because I can't handle another minute of parenting.
Yes, I admit it. I am at times, a lazy-arsed mother.
xx The Ramblings of Another Mother
Saturday 28 May 2011
Saturday 21 May 2011
Our Contrary Child
Kaisey is a funny wee thing at times.
On Friday just been we had American Hotdogs for dinner, usually a favourite. Paige and Annabelle tucked in. Kaisey decided she wasn't interested and yelled. When this happens I can usually remind her she likes it by popping a tiny taste into her mouth. Not this time, I smeared a tiny bit on her upper lip and she screamed louder, rubbing it away as hard as she could, arching her back to get away from the offensive food.
All we could do was laugh. I don't think this helped much, and of course Paige wanting to seem more adult joined in with that loud forced laughter kids put on, you know that "HAHAHAHA (I wish I knew what was so funny...)".
So after several minutes of trying to talk over the noise and feeling increasingly stressed by it, we did what we sometimes do with the twins when they do this, we turned Kaisey around to face away from us.
She immediately stopped, that is fairly common, its bit of a surprise to be facing away from the family all of a sudden. What happened next is less common. She started eating.
It was like: Oh that's better, I can't stand eating in front of people.
By this point, Annabelle had stuffed so much in her mouth she couldn't chew it, so she started that low pitched moaning that kids do when they are confused.
The picture here is: Annabelle moaning with saliva and bits of food slowly dripping out of her mouth, Kaisey turned about in her highchair in the centre of the kitchen peaking around the back from time to time and grinning with her mouth full of food, Paige at the table mouth full of food wide open "HAHAHAHA (I wish I knew what was so funny...) and Don and I staring at each other across the table feeling and looking very bewildered.
We thought, well Kaisey seems happy now, turn her back around. No! We turned her around and she arched her back and screamed again, we turned her back and she went back to calmly eating.
I fished the mountain of food out of Annabelles mouth. Very pleasant. She decided that she was not keen on eating any more since it had offensively made her mouth so full before (Annabelle had nothing to do with it you know) and she looked around at Kaisey in the centre of the kitchen with her back to us and started to cry. So we moved Kaisey to sit beside Annabelle with her back to the rest of us.
Dinner finished fairly uneventfully after that, and we did our Hi-Lows (a tradition where everyone has a turn to say their high point and their low point of the day). There was a slight air of melancholy over the proceedings though, one of our kids had rejected being with us for the meal.
Bloody contrary child.
On Friday just been we had American Hotdogs for dinner, usually a favourite. Paige and Annabelle tucked in. Kaisey decided she wasn't interested and yelled. When this happens I can usually remind her she likes it by popping a tiny taste into her mouth. Not this time, I smeared a tiny bit on her upper lip and she screamed louder, rubbing it away as hard as she could, arching her back to get away from the offensive food.
All we could do was laugh. I don't think this helped much, and of course Paige wanting to seem more adult joined in with that loud forced laughter kids put on, you know that "HAHAHAHA (I wish I knew what was so funny...)".
So after several minutes of trying to talk over the noise and feeling increasingly stressed by it, we did what we sometimes do with the twins when they do this, we turned Kaisey around to face away from us.
She immediately stopped, that is fairly common, its bit of a surprise to be facing away from the family all of a sudden. What happened next is less common. She started eating.
It was like: Oh that's better, I can't stand eating in front of people.
By this point, Annabelle had stuffed so much in her mouth she couldn't chew it, so she started that low pitched moaning that kids do when they are confused.
The picture here is: Annabelle moaning with saliva and bits of food slowly dripping out of her mouth, Kaisey turned about in her highchair in the centre of the kitchen peaking around the back from time to time and grinning with her mouth full of food, Paige at the table mouth full of food wide open "HAHAHAHA (I wish I knew what was so funny...) and Don and I staring at each other across the table feeling and looking very bewildered.
We thought, well Kaisey seems happy now, turn her back around. No! We turned her around and she arched her back and screamed again, we turned her back and she went back to calmly eating.
I fished the mountain of food out of Annabelles mouth. Very pleasant. She decided that she was not keen on eating any more since it had offensively made her mouth so full before (Annabelle had nothing to do with it you know) and she looked around at Kaisey in the centre of the kitchen with her back to us and started to cry. So we moved Kaisey to sit beside Annabelle with her back to the rest of us.
Dinner finished fairly uneventfully after that, and we did our Hi-Lows (a tradition where everyone has a turn to say their high point and their low point of the day). There was a slight air of melancholy over the proceedings though, one of our kids had rejected being with us for the meal.
Bloody contrary child.
Friday 13 May 2011
Tidy bedrooms.
Paige (as I am sure is the case with most children) has never been very adept at keeping her bedroom tidy. At times I just shut the door, and at other times I tell her to tidy it up. This usually results in her putting a few things away, then discovering something that she hasn't seen in awhile and playing with it.
About 18 months ago we became fed up, and we put her into her bedroom "till it was tidy" then if it became tidy by things being shoved under the bed etc. we would pull these things out into the middle of the floor, and tell her to try again. Often she was late to join us at the table for dinner because she wasn't coming out till it was done, and on one occasion, she threw a massive tantrum, and refused to tidy her room, she was finally allowed out to have two pieces of bread and a glass of water, then sent to bed, the next day being Saturday, she was not allowed out for breakfast until it was done.
Perhaps that seems cruel, and it did at the time, I felt like crying to do it, but the result was that she tidied her bedroom and then from there on if she was told to tidy her room she went and did it. So it seemed justified. And one dinner of two pieces of bread in a lifetime of nutritious and yummy meals is probably not going to have any lasting effects, right?
So for a good while this worked very well, then the standards began to slip again. And I was also frustrated that she rarely put anything in the correct places, so I would go into her room every few weeks, and remove the dirty underwear and socks from the toy boxes, put the clothes back in the correct doors, right the books and locate the missing ones so they sat nicely on the shelf, and often clean up the knee-deep mess that was on the floor too. This at times took me close to an hour. Frustrating.
Then I finally decided that if I got rid of some of her things, that would help. So one weekend when Paige was at her dads after the twins went down I went into her room piled EVERYTHING she owned onto the floor in the middle and went through it. I sorted out the barbies and the barbie accessories and made two "sets" one of which went into the top of her wardrobe, the other in a toy box to be swapped occasionally. I got rid of everything that was damaged or broken, threw away countless macdonalds happy meal style toys (most of which were also broken) got rid of a few colouring books that had scribbles on every page that had obviously not been used in a good long time. Went through her pens and pencils and chucked the ones that didn't work. ETC ETC ETC...
Then came her clothes. This kid had more clothes than I did!! It was SHOCKING how much she had, she had 15 dresses and skirts, and over 35 pairs of undies!!! I culled it down. There was quite a bit that I got rid of that was too small. And one dress that gave me the guilts to get rid of, as it was a favourite, however it was borderline too small, and very much a summer dress, and I know it wont fit her next summer. So it went. At some point next year we will go out and find her a new "favourite" summer dress :-)
Then came the twins birthday. One of the friends that came shared a story with me of how she had managed to make her child keep her bedroom spotless. I tried it. And it worked. So I thought I would share.
It goes like this: You get a box (you probably will need a fairly big one) and at bedtime on day one and every day after, go in, and remove everything off the floor and put it in the box, I also went through her drawers and toy boxes and removed anything that was in the wrong place. The box is placed somewhere they cannot get it and they do not get anything in it back until next Sunday. (or whichever day you choose to use) Now it doesn't matter if its her school uniform going in the box, or if its her homework book, or if its their favourite toy (though I would never take the one she sleeps with away, thankfully it didn't come to that.) It goes in the box, and stays there till Sunday, did they need their homework book for school? Perhaps, they will have to deal with the consequences of that.
On day one of doing this with Paige I gave her a warning, and told her that she had until bedtime to sort things out. At bedtime the box was overflowing with the things she had not put away, she also lost several items of clothing and her blankets from her bed as she had not made it. (I did have to give her one back so that she didn't freeze to death that night, however none of the others were returned to her until Sunday). On day two I removed several more items and thought well she doesn't seem to care at all, she even helped me put some things in the dern box!!! It was a little disheartening. But I do have a policy that you must try anything new for at least 2 weeks, to know weather or not its really going to work.
Over week one she lost more and more things, and on Sunday at lunch I put the box in her room and told her she had until bedtime to get everything put away. She didn't really bother, and at bedtime I removed the box and added several things off the floor and one of her uniforms to it. That week she lost a few things but not as much as week one. And on Sunday I placed the box into her room at lunch and by bedtime everything was put away. Correctly, and neatly. Success!!
This week nothing has gone in the box, on Monday I told her if she gets to Sunday (tomorrow) without anything going into the box she would get a medal (one of those two dollar shop ones, come in a set of 6) She has made it, because she went to her fathers yesterday and the box is empty, I better get to the two dollar shop later.
Now at times over these three weeks I have been lenient. One day when she had a friend over and they made a god awful mess I got there at bedtime and could see she had been working very hard at getting it done, but had run out of time. I didn't bring the box in that night and she was very grateful. And the next night it was done.
One of the tricks shared by my friend is not to talk about it. Let the box speak for you, once you have explained how it works. They can't argue with a box. Give them a warning sometime before bedtime if you want to, but no more than that. You honestly don't need to.
Another thing I have noticed cascading from the "box" method is slight improvements in self discipline in other parts of Paiges life. Like mornings before school, which used to be almost a constant argument from wake up to out the door. She has had a "morning routine" for awhile (a list of the tasks she needs to complete in order to be ready on time for school, in the correct order) and she is now following it everyday, either with no reminder, or with just one. And I ask, have you done such and such and she bloody well has!! Its fantastic.
I am very very pleased with the box method and intend to use it on the twins when they are old enough, and I also want to use it on the play area too, but will wait until there are the three of them to clean it all up, as I don't feel its fair to expect Paige to clean up after two very messy toddlers!!!
So now that Paiges bedroom is constantly spotless, how can I apply the "box" method to the rest of my house???
xx The Ramblings of Another Mother
About 18 months ago we became fed up, and we put her into her bedroom "till it was tidy" then if it became tidy by things being shoved under the bed etc. we would pull these things out into the middle of the floor, and tell her to try again. Often she was late to join us at the table for dinner because she wasn't coming out till it was done, and on one occasion, she threw a massive tantrum, and refused to tidy her room, she was finally allowed out to have two pieces of bread and a glass of water, then sent to bed, the next day being Saturday, she was not allowed out for breakfast until it was done.
Perhaps that seems cruel, and it did at the time, I felt like crying to do it, but the result was that she tidied her bedroom and then from there on if she was told to tidy her room she went and did it. So it seemed justified. And one dinner of two pieces of bread in a lifetime of nutritious and yummy meals is probably not going to have any lasting effects, right?
So for a good while this worked very well, then the standards began to slip again. And I was also frustrated that she rarely put anything in the correct places, so I would go into her room every few weeks, and remove the dirty underwear and socks from the toy boxes, put the clothes back in the correct doors, right the books and locate the missing ones so they sat nicely on the shelf, and often clean up the knee-deep mess that was on the floor too. This at times took me close to an hour. Frustrating.
Then I finally decided that if I got rid of some of her things, that would help. So one weekend when Paige was at her dads after the twins went down I went into her room piled EVERYTHING she owned onto the floor in the middle and went through it. I sorted out the barbies and the barbie accessories and made two "sets" one of which went into the top of her wardrobe, the other in a toy box to be swapped occasionally. I got rid of everything that was damaged or broken, threw away countless macdonalds happy meal style toys (most of which were also broken) got rid of a few colouring books that had scribbles on every page that had obviously not been used in a good long time. Went through her pens and pencils and chucked the ones that didn't work. ETC ETC ETC...
Then came her clothes. This kid had more clothes than I did!! It was SHOCKING how much she had, she had 15 dresses and skirts, and over 35 pairs of undies!!! I culled it down. There was quite a bit that I got rid of that was too small. And one dress that gave me the guilts to get rid of, as it was a favourite, however it was borderline too small, and very much a summer dress, and I know it wont fit her next summer. So it went. At some point next year we will go out and find her a new "favourite" summer dress :-)
Then came the twins birthday. One of the friends that came shared a story with me of how she had managed to make her child keep her bedroom spotless. I tried it. And it worked. So I thought I would share.
It goes like this: You get a box (you probably will need a fairly big one) and at bedtime on day one and every day after, go in, and remove everything off the floor and put it in the box, I also went through her drawers and toy boxes and removed anything that was in the wrong place. The box is placed somewhere they cannot get it and they do not get anything in it back until next Sunday. (or whichever day you choose to use) Now it doesn't matter if its her school uniform going in the box, or if its her homework book, or if its their favourite toy (though I would never take the one she sleeps with away, thankfully it didn't come to that.) It goes in the box, and stays there till Sunday, did they need their homework book for school? Perhaps, they will have to deal with the consequences of that.
On day one of doing this with Paige I gave her a warning, and told her that she had until bedtime to sort things out. At bedtime the box was overflowing with the things she had not put away, she also lost several items of clothing and her blankets from her bed as she had not made it. (I did have to give her one back so that she didn't freeze to death that night, however none of the others were returned to her until Sunday). On day two I removed several more items and thought well she doesn't seem to care at all, she even helped me put some things in the dern box!!! It was a little disheartening. But I do have a policy that you must try anything new for at least 2 weeks, to know weather or not its really going to work.
Over week one she lost more and more things, and on Sunday at lunch I put the box in her room and told her she had until bedtime to get everything put away. She didn't really bother, and at bedtime I removed the box and added several things off the floor and one of her uniforms to it. That week she lost a few things but not as much as week one. And on Sunday I placed the box into her room at lunch and by bedtime everything was put away. Correctly, and neatly. Success!!
This week nothing has gone in the box, on Monday I told her if she gets to Sunday (tomorrow) without anything going into the box she would get a medal (one of those two dollar shop ones, come in a set of 6) She has made it, because she went to her fathers yesterday and the box is empty, I better get to the two dollar shop later.
Now at times over these three weeks I have been lenient. One day when she had a friend over and they made a god awful mess I got there at bedtime and could see she had been working very hard at getting it done, but had run out of time. I didn't bring the box in that night and she was very grateful. And the next night it was done.
One of the tricks shared by my friend is not to talk about it. Let the box speak for you, once you have explained how it works. They can't argue with a box. Give them a warning sometime before bedtime if you want to, but no more than that. You honestly don't need to.
Another thing I have noticed cascading from the "box" method is slight improvements in self discipline in other parts of Paiges life. Like mornings before school, which used to be almost a constant argument from wake up to out the door. She has had a "morning routine" for awhile (a list of the tasks she needs to complete in order to be ready on time for school, in the correct order) and she is now following it everyday, either with no reminder, or with just one. And I ask, have you done such and such and she bloody well has!! Its fantastic.
I am very very pleased with the box method and intend to use it on the twins when they are old enough, and I also want to use it on the play area too, but will wait until there are the three of them to clean it all up, as I don't feel its fair to expect Paige to clean up after two very messy toddlers!!!
So now that Paiges bedroom is constantly spotless, how can I apply the "box" method to the rest of my house???
xx The Ramblings of Another Mother
Thursday 5 May 2011
Liar liar pants on fire.
So Paige has a little classmate telling tales, some very tall (like, 'my dad died last night') and some you could think were true or not, (like 'I am getting a pony this weekend, for me and my sister').
Paige is finding this quite hard, she is a fairly trusting girl and so she is quite surprised when I say, 'no honey, her dad could not have died last night, she wouldn't be at school' or 'um I don't think its likely she's getting a pony, but its always possible I suppose'.
The crunch came earlier this week, when this little girl told Paige she was having a birthday party after school the next day, at the ten pin bowling club, and she should come. Paige came home from school begging me to let her go. I said well we haven't received an invitation. (first alarm bells right there).
I happened to know the family's phone numbers and made a quick call to be sure, and sure enough, the little girls birthday was the next day, but there was no party. (I also spoke to the girls father, so he's definitely not dead)
Paige said then and there, "I hate (NAME OMITTED FOR PRIVACY) and I am never ever going to believe her again!" I told her fair enough.
I see a slight pattern here though. Paige had her birthday party at the ten pin bowling alley, loves horses, and her father's father died some time ago. Perhaps this little girl likes Paige so much she wants to be just like her, or has some internal jealousy happening, so is trying to make her life sound both more tragic and more wonderful than Paige's.
When I told my mum the story she told me I should have told her that she should believe this child in the future, and now I am unsure. I confess myself annoyed at this child for her lies, and I did take the opportunity to talk to Paige about lying at the time, about how when you lie like that, then people don't know what's true or not, so you feel like not believing them.
Now I have met people like this throughout life, that tell story's either so fantastic or so tragic, you wonder how much is true. You can never truly know though can you? And usually I come to the conclusion that it doesn't matter, the person is either telling the truth, or for some reason feel the need to lie, its no skin off my nose really.
Its a tricky thing for children to understand though isn't it? We all lie, and often, and to our children. We tell them Santa is real, we tell them that if they don't brush their teeth they will all fall out by next Tuesday, we tell them that that drawing of scribble town is amazing and they are a fantastic artist. Some of these lies are to keep magic alive for them, to protect them, or to build up their self esteem, but they are all still lies. And then there's the lies we tell our children to tell, like tell them thank you for that present and that you love it. And don't tell such and such I said that. THEN we turn around and tell them to tell the truth to us. How confusing.
AND then we tell them to tell the truth about something that they KNOW is just going to get them into trouble. Like who drew on the wall, tell the truth! They know they did it, they know they shouldn't have done it, and that if they tell the truth they will get punished for it. Then begs the question, what should WE do if they do then brave up and tell the truth? Should we still punish them as we would normally, or should we punish them but reduce the sentence because they told the truth? Or should we say ok thanks for telling the truth, off you go?
I guess for me, I take each situation as it comes, and deal with it as I see fit. In the case of this lying little girl, I feel (mostly) vindicated in supporting Paige's conclusion to never trust her again. I don't know if her decision will stick, but I supported her in a disappointing situation, and I let her know I didn't think it was appropriate either.
Basically I followed my latest mantra: I did my best.
xx The Ramblings of Another Mother
Paige is finding this quite hard, she is a fairly trusting girl and so she is quite surprised when I say, 'no honey, her dad could not have died last night, she wouldn't be at school' or 'um I don't think its likely she's getting a pony, but its always possible I suppose'.
The crunch came earlier this week, when this little girl told Paige she was having a birthday party after school the next day, at the ten pin bowling club, and she should come. Paige came home from school begging me to let her go. I said well we haven't received an invitation. (first alarm bells right there).
I happened to know the family's phone numbers and made a quick call to be sure, and sure enough, the little girls birthday was the next day, but there was no party. (I also spoke to the girls father, so he's definitely not dead)
Paige said then and there, "I hate (NAME OMITTED FOR PRIVACY) and I am never ever going to believe her again!" I told her fair enough.
I see a slight pattern here though. Paige had her birthday party at the ten pin bowling alley, loves horses, and her father's father died some time ago. Perhaps this little girl likes Paige so much she wants to be just like her, or has some internal jealousy happening, so is trying to make her life sound both more tragic and more wonderful than Paige's.
When I told my mum the story she told me I should have told her that she should believe this child in the future, and now I am unsure. I confess myself annoyed at this child for her lies, and I did take the opportunity to talk to Paige about lying at the time, about how when you lie like that, then people don't know what's true or not, so you feel like not believing them.
Now I have met people like this throughout life, that tell story's either so fantastic or so tragic, you wonder how much is true. You can never truly know though can you? And usually I come to the conclusion that it doesn't matter, the person is either telling the truth, or for some reason feel the need to lie, its no skin off my nose really.
Its a tricky thing for children to understand though isn't it? We all lie, and often, and to our children. We tell them Santa is real, we tell them that if they don't brush their teeth they will all fall out by next Tuesday, we tell them that that drawing of scribble town is amazing and they are a fantastic artist. Some of these lies are to keep magic alive for them, to protect them, or to build up their self esteem, but they are all still lies. And then there's the lies we tell our children to tell, like tell them thank you for that present and that you love it. And don't tell such and such I said that. THEN we turn around and tell them to tell the truth to us. How confusing.
AND then we tell them to tell the truth about something that they KNOW is just going to get them into trouble. Like who drew on the wall, tell the truth! They know they did it, they know they shouldn't have done it, and that if they tell the truth they will get punished for it. Then begs the question, what should WE do if they do then brave up and tell the truth? Should we still punish them as we would normally, or should we punish them but reduce the sentence because they told the truth? Or should we say ok thanks for telling the truth, off you go?
I guess for me, I take each situation as it comes, and deal with it as I see fit. In the case of this lying little girl, I feel (mostly) vindicated in supporting Paige's conclusion to never trust her again. I don't know if her decision will stick, but I supported her in a disappointing situation, and I let her know I didn't think it was appropriate either.
Basically I followed my latest mantra: I did my best.
xx The Ramblings of Another Mother
Living with depression.
The past few days a friend and I have been discussing living with depression. It was extremely enlightening and gratifying to find a friend had been through similar and often mirrored struggles to me. I thought I would share some of that here, because so often its hushed up by both sufferers and those around them, and lets face it, society as well.
In the modern world we live in, one in five people are suffering from some kind of mental illness, so look around at your five best friends. At least one of you has a mental illness. Is it you? I know its me. And now I know its at least one of my friends too.
I was nine when I first suffered from real depression, I had been severely bullied at 3 different primary schools, at the last one by my teacher, and I guess I finally cracked under the pressure, I don't really remember how it all manifested, my mum tells me I turned in the space of a few weeks from a very outgoing and loving child to a withdrawn and taciturn one. My counsellor a few years later told me I had blocked it all out, and I am certain this is the case, as I struggle to remember a lot of the things that went on, little things come back to me every few years and I think, oh, so that happened too.
At this time my parents removed me from mainstream school and put me on correspondence for two years, and we also moved across the country. We settled and after some time I felt brave enough to enter into mainstream school again and went to a intermediate-high school. I wasn't really recovered and showed how I was feeling through my actions. I ran away from home several times, even at one point disappearing from a trip to the nearby city, and my poor mother in desperation searching the streets for me. At one point I left during the night and had walked for almost an hour before my dad drove up beside me and took me home. Now I had a very loving and safe home life, I had nothing to really run away from, so in reality I was trying to run away from my feelings. Not that I understood that at the time. At the time I didn't really know what I was doing or why. My parents put me in counselling and after a year of that she proclaimed me "cured".
I didn't really face heavy depression again until I was seventeen, when I went (again) to the other end of the country, on my own this time, to study. I had a dreadful time there, ending up kicked out of the house I was staying in, at which point my so called "friends" refused to give me a place to stay. I slept in my car for a couple days, found an apartment and moved into it, having to first organise things so that I could sign a lease and move into an apartment, being still under age. The night I moved into my apartment, I had a long bath, smoked about 40 cigarettes in it, then got into my car and drove to a cliff. I sat there, staring out into blackness and imagined living there. How quiet it would be. How simple.
I have no idea how, or why, but I somehow didn't drive off that cliff. I turned around and drove back to the apartment. And then I lost it. I cried and cried and cried. Eventually my mum rang me, and at about two in the morning she talked me into my car and over the next two days I drove home. Once there I did what I now call hibernating, though I no longer have the luxury of doing it to that degree. I slept for about a week, and after that I just stayed in my mum and dads house, did cooking and cleaning, but didn't really venture outside, it actually scared me.
Some time later, we moved house, and the change of scenery helped me gather up my willpower and I went to a course to learn some computer skills. Where I met Paiges father.
The next time I faced depression, Paige was two, I went through what I still consider my hell year. Health problems, flatmate problems, ex problems, and then I crashed my car. The day before I was due in hospital for a minor procedure. I had very few real friends at this time either, so I felt I had no one to turn to or talk to.
This was the first time I was medicated. I was medicated for a depression and anxiety disorder, and was told I was a "worst case scenario" person, meaning that in any given situation I saw the absolute worst possible thing that would happen and it often paralysed me, I would sit on the couch staring into space for hours, sometimes I would realise I had been curled up in the corner of my bed and not know how long I had been there, but day would have turned into night, or even at times early morning. It took me a long time to get over this bout of depression. For a long time I was numb, I think sometimes people think that depression means you feel sad all the time, but for me, I felt -nothing. I breathed and laughed and talked and went through the motions of life, but I was completely vacant inside.
I was still medicated for this when I fell pregnant with the twins, and after. It somehow still took me 7 months to realise that I had post natal depression as well. From the traumatic birth of my twins, I also had post traumatic stress disorder, and for awhile they tried to figure out if I was bi-polar as well. I do have a very similar cycle of mood that seems bi-polar at times, I will have periods where I am extremely active, and happy and excited about everything happening around me, to me, and that I am doing. Then there are my "low" periods where I just barely get through my days, often procrastinate doing things. Have trouble getting out of bed and getting to sleep. During these times I do feel sad often, and seem to be on the brink of tears constantly. I also feel like someone has stuck a leather belt around my chest and pulled it tight. And then there are the "depressed times" when I feel vacant. Like I'm just not even really there any more. My body is doing what its meant to do, feeding kids, taking care of them, taking them to and from school cleaning the house, working. But me? I just seem to be in a little black hole somewhere just behind my navel, and I live there, watching and wishing I was somewhere else. I am just going through the motions.
People rarely know when I feel like this. I have long since mastered the art of putting on a brave face and getting on with the job at hand. But inside? I fight a daily battle with an internal demon called depression. I fight to stay on top of my mood and keep myself going. I fight just to get through the day.
I want to thank my friend for sharing her own experiences with me, it made me feel less alone, and spurred me to write this post, and share my own experiences with the world. Because for me, just knowing there was someone out there that understood, and not just said they did, but really understood me and what was going on inside me, it really helps. I really hope this helps someone else out there that may be facing the same demons, and for them to know they are not alone.
xx The Ramblings of Another Mother.
In the modern world we live in, one in five people are suffering from some kind of mental illness, so look around at your five best friends. At least one of you has a mental illness. Is it you? I know its me. And now I know its at least one of my friends too.
I was nine when I first suffered from real depression, I had been severely bullied at 3 different primary schools, at the last one by my teacher, and I guess I finally cracked under the pressure, I don't really remember how it all manifested, my mum tells me I turned in the space of a few weeks from a very outgoing and loving child to a withdrawn and taciturn one. My counsellor a few years later told me I had blocked it all out, and I am certain this is the case, as I struggle to remember a lot of the things that went on, little things come back to me every few years and I think, oh, so that happened too.
At this time my parents removed me from mainstream school and put me on correspondence for two years, and we also moved across the country. We settled and after some time I felt brave enough to enter into mainstream school again and went to a intermediate-high school. I wasn't really recovered and showed how I was feeling through my actions. I ran away from home several times, even at one point disappearing from a trip to the nearby city, and my poor mother in desperation searching the streets for me. At one point I left during the night and had walked for almost an hour before my dad drove up beside me and took me home. Now I had a very loving and safe home life, I had nothing to really run away from, so in reality I was trying to run away from my feelings. Not that I understood that at the time. At the time I didn't really know what I was doing or why. My parents put me in counselling and after a year of that she proclaimed me "cured".
I didn't really face heavy depression again until I was seventeen, when I went (again) to the other end of the country, on my own this time, to study. I had a dreadful time there, ending up kicked out of the house I was staying in, at which point my so called "friends" refused to give me a place to stay. I slept in my car for a couple days, found an apartment and moved into it, having to first organise things so that I could sign a lease and move into an apartment, being still under age. The night I moved into my apartment, I had a long bath, smoked about 40 cigarettes in it, then got into my car and drove to a cliff. I sat there, staring out into blackness and imagined living there. How quiet it would be. How simple.
I have no idea how, or why, but I somehow didn't drive off that cliff. I turned around and drove back to the apartment. And then I lost it. I cried and cried and cried. Eventually my mum rang me, and at about two in the morning she talked me into my car and over the next two days I drove home. Once there I did what I now call hibernating, though I no longer have the luxury of doing it to that degree. I slept for about a week, and after that I just stayed in my mum and dads house, did cooking and cleaning, but didn't really venture outside, it actually scared me.
Some time later, we moved house, and the change of scenery helped me gather up my willpower and I went to a course to learn some computer skills. Where I met Paiges father.
The next time I faced depression, Paige was two, I went through what I still consider my hell year. Health problems, flatmate problems, ex problems, and then I crashed my car. The day before I was due in hospital for a minor procedure. I had very few real friends at this time either, so I felt I had no one to turn to or talk to.
This was the first time I was medicated. I was medicated for a depression and anxiety disorder, and was told I was a "worst case scenario" person, meaning that in any given situation I saw the absolute worst possible thing that would happen and it often paralysed me, I would sit on the couch staring into space for hours, sometimes I would realise I had been curled up in the corner of my bed and not know how long I had been there, but day would have turned into night, or even at times early morning. It took me a long time to get over this bout of depression. For a long time I was numb, I think sometimes people think that depression means you feel sad all the time, but for me, I felt -nothing. I breathed and laughed and talked and went through the motions of life, but I was completely vacant inside.
I was still medicated for this when I fell pregnant with the twins, and after. It somehow still took me 7 months to realise that I had post natal depression as well. From the traumatic birth of my twins, I also had post traumatic stress disorder, and for awhile they tried to figure out if I was bi-polar as well. I do have a very similar cycle of mood that seems bi-polar at times, I will have periods where I am extremely active, and happy and excited about everything happening around me, to me, and that I am doing. Then there are my "low" periods where I just barely get through my days, often procrastinate doing things. Have trouble getting out of bed and getting to sleep. During these times I do feel sad often, and seem to be on the brink of tears constantly. I also feel like someone has stuck a leather belt around my chest and pulled it tight. And then there are the "depressed times" when I feel vacant. Like I'm just not even really there any more. My body is doing what its meant to do, feeding kids, taking care of them, taking them to and from school cleaning the house, working. But me? I just seem to be in a little black hole somewhere just behind my navel, and I live there, watching and wishing I was somewhere else. I am just going through the motions.
People rarely know when I feel like this. I have long since mastered the art of putting on a brave face and getting on with the job at hand. But inside? I fight a daily battle with an internal demon called depression. I fight to stay on top of my mood and keep myself going. I fight just to get through the day.
I want to thank my friend for sharing her own experiences with me, it made me feel less alone, and spurred me to write this post, and share my own experiences with the world. Because for me, just knowing there was someone out there that understood, and not just said they did, but really understood me and what was going on inside me, it really helps. I really hope this helps someone else out there that may be facing the same demons, and for them to know they are not alone.
xx The Ramblings of Another Mother.
Tuesday 3 May 2011
Talking and walking.
So the twins are now two years old, and Kaisey is still not walking, she has taken steps, and she is taking more and more every time. She is however getting really heavy to carry around. I am getting more and more certain that she actually can walk and does behind our backs, but she enjoys being carried around so much she wont.
I am sincerely hoping she gets over that soon. So at the moment we are avoiding picking her up as much as possible and telling her she CAN walk so she SHOULD walk.
I think there is a level of stage fright involved though, as Annabelle is such a confident walker and runner. As soon as I get on the floor and hold my arms out, and I can see Kaisey thinking about it, Annabelle runs over, getting in her way and immediately I see the thought leave Kaiseys eyes. Frustrating.
I think this is also in part why Kaisey lashes out physically, she cannot articulate how she feels, and she can't catch up to the offender either. So she lashes out at the nearest thing. Which might be another child, or a toy, or the floor.
The other thing I have noticed is that she is the quieter of our twins. Sometimes I wonder if its linked, kind of like, there is a natural order to development and the child can't fully start developing the next thing before they have managed the last. It would be interesting to put such a hypothesis to the test. Although it's probably already been observed somewhere once before by someone else.
Of course, she could just naturally be quieter. Annabelle is definitely the chatterbox, she is also a little parrot. Half the time its impossible to hear anything in the babble, and the other half of the time you can almost hear words in her babble. And interpret them, weather thats what she intends to say or not. Kaisey is slower to use her words and doesn't really babble in the same way, but when she says something you can figure out what she means by it.
Now I am a big fan of the belief that every child develops at their own pace, and every child develops at exactly the right time for them, however, if Kaisey does not start walking soon I am going to go a little mad. My patience is wearing thin, she is getting WAY too heavy to carry for any length of time. So I am getting rather mean about not picking her up as often, and I really hope that the less I pander to it, the more she thinks about walking.
And then DOES IT!
xx The Ramblings of Another Mother
I am sincerely hoping she gets over that soon. So at the moment we are avoiding picking her up as much as possible and telling her she CAN walk so she SHOULD walk.
I think there is a level of stage fright involved though, as Annabelle is such a confident walker and runner. As soon as I get on the floor and hold my arms out, and I can see Kaisey thinking about it, Annabelle runs over, getting in her way and immediately I see the thought leave Kaiseys eyes. Frustrating.
I think this is also in part why Kaisey lashes out physically, she cannot articulate how she feels, and she can't catch up to the offender either. So she lashes out at the nearest thing. Which might be another child, or a toy, or the floor.
The other thing I have noticed is that she is the quieter of our twins. Sometimes I wonder if its linked, kind of like, there is a natural order to development and the child can't fully start developing the next thing before they have managed the last. It would be interesting to put such a hypothesis to the test. Although it's probably already been observed somewhere once before by someone else.
Of course, she could just naturally be quieter. Annabelle is definitely the chatterbox, she is also a little parrot. Half the time its impossible to hear anything in the babble, and the other half of the time you can almost hear words in her babble. And interpret them, weather thats what she intends to say or not. Kaisey is slower to use her words and doesn't really babble in the same way, but when she says something you can figure out what she means by it.
Now I am a big fan of the belief that every child develops at their own pace, and every child develops at exactly the right time for them, however, if Kaisey does not start walking soon I am going to go a little mad. My patience is wearing thin, she is getting WAY too heavy to carry for any length of time. So I am getting rather mean about not picking her up as often, and I really hope that the less I pander to it, the more she thinks about walking.
And then DOES IT!
xx The Ramblings of Another Mother
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