It's not easy being green - part II

This time last year we were several weeks into the first term of school. While most of our school aged minions were happy & adjusting well to the new school year, Jack was waist deep & sinking fast. 

Drowning in negative self talk, nail biting to the point of bleeding, hair pulling, facial & upper body tics plus other anxiety related behaviour. There was sleeplessness, melt downs & mood swings, anger, tears - lots & lots of tears.  

In the morning, the closer it got to leaving for school the worse he became. Once we arrived at school he was compliant enough heading in to class. I won't write that he was happy enough, because he wasn't. More accurately put, he was resigned to it. Some days were better than others for him & I could usually gauge how stressful his day was based on how quickly he melted down once we got home. Or once he got to the car. 

So many days with so many tears of frustration, anger, self doubt. It was like the more he held it together at school the worse the personal fall out, or 'let go', was for him once he was in his safe space of being home.

We haven't even touched on the topic of homework. 

It's actually really heart breaking recalling how internally tormented he was, how different he was back then.

Over the years I had toyed mentally with the thought of homeschooling, it's always been on my radar since Ben approached school age. However with a reasonable selection of good schools around us in the suburbs that we lived in it was never more than a thought. Until it became a very serious consideration to try help our 'Jacker-knackers' come out of the swamp he seemed stuck in.

The school was great - it wasn't them, a school transfer was not going to fix this. It was Jack. No amount of meetings, compromise or additional help in any form was going to be able to fix what we were looking at. There was just so many areas, so multi-faceted, it would be impossible to ask a teacher to accomodate so many changes. Especially when our teachers are already stretched like an over used hair-band (& often doing an incredible job teaching a stacked curriculum to twenty odd students all of varying academic levels & backgrounds.)

After several weeks of researching, talking & sleepless nights, more researching & more talking, we made the decision to homeschool Jack.

Best.

Decision.

Ever.

The road we've traveled so far has not been without a few speed bumps & route re-evaluations. Especially with a pregnancy thrown into the mix. We completed our first year of homeschooling when Kade was eleven weeks old. It was not always easy, particularly in the last trimester when your body is all about growing a human & your brain is all about the sleep. Then we kicked off term four with a two week old. At least I could sit & feed, or stand & rock Kade to sleep while helping Jack. But the brain haze that accompanies the detaching of the placenta & the commencement of breast engorgement...the struggle was real. My brain was trying to nurture a newborn & support a nine year old with sensory issues, anxiety & still over coming the slathering of self doubt he was beginning to see past.

But my god. The changes we began to see, even just six weeks in. That was validation & all the confirmation we needed that this was right. 

The nail biting to point of bleeding & beyond began to ease, the nervous tics were dissipating, our mornings ran a lot smoother & after school was no longer filled with melt downs & homework battles.

The negative self talk-

"I can't do this"

"I'm so stupid"

"God I'm so dumb"

"Everybody hates me"

we even had "I wish I wasn't born"... 

*deep breaths, wipe away the tears.

I can't remember the last time Jack has spoken about himself like that. 

Last year when Jack was faced with a page of work that looked daunting, there was an immediate shut down response. It took a lot of coaching, coaxing & reassurance that I was right there with him to just get him to even consider putting a pencil in his hand.

Yesterday Jack opened up one of his English workbooks we're currently working through. He looked at all the writing, all the reading & said "Mum I can't do this one, it's too hard."

I came over to have a look & said, "you know what, I really think you can do it. I know it looks like there is a lot, but I think you should give it a go. Remember all the other times you have said something was too hard & we worked through it together? Then you realised it really wasn't that hard at all? I think you should just try. See how you go." 

Without any further comment, Jack put his head down & began to read. Then began to write. Ten minutes later he was finished & incredibly proud of himself. It may not sound like a lot to some, but to us it is huge. A complete contrast to seven months ago. 

Each day another brick is added to his wall of self confidence, it's slowly re-building but it seems we're getting a bit faster now. 

Part I can be read here

Being an adult is like looking both ways for cars...then getting hit by an aeroplane

After getting the itch to start blogging again late last year I intended to get this post up within a week or two, definitely before the end of January. Then January rolled in...& rolled out with February hot on it's tail. Each week I told myself I must to find the time to get re-acqainted back here. Then the days all blended into a blurry haze of summer heat, school holidays, back to school shopping & soaking up every drop of toilet training fails from Clay. 

In the end life just kept on spinning by while we kept up with each day - much like the last 18 months really.

Since that last post (was it really back in 2015!?!) There have been a few changes for us here at House of many Minions. 

- We bought our home. 

- Expanded our family by 4 furry feet. 

- Made plans for the future...then found out lucky number seven was on the way a little earlier than we planned.

- Started homeschooling Jack.

- Welcomed lucky number seven into our family. 

- Bought a camper trailer large enough to accomodate all nine of us (plus the two dogs) for many adventures & spontaneous weekends away.

- Seen Will off to his first year of school. 

- Realised life in the coming future with numerous teens & pre-teens is going to be much like raising over grown toddlers with a talent for food consumption of epic proportions.

It's a bit like when you catch up with a friend you haven't seen in ages & you're asked what has happened since we last caught up...everything & nothing. There's all these big life events thrown in with the spinning of day to day life. You quickly float over the mundane threads to try pick up the strands of glittery sparkle. 

The brightest sparkly thread that has woven into our lives is Kade, our seventh little minion.

After buying our first home 6 months earlier, Doug & I had this great big discussion on long term goals, achievements & where we wanted to be in the next three to four years time. This included having another baby, maybe late 2017 or during 2018...Seems this discussion was all the universe needed - just a few short weeks later two pretty pink lines threw all our well made plans into the air & changed our course to collect another passenger.

Thirty eight weeks & a car upgrade later, the newest member for the blue team declared his intention to join us earthside with a small pop of waters after dinner. Baby sitters were called, bags were thrown in the car, contractions were mild...until they weren't. My back felt like it was going to explode, my belly was having the mother of all period cramps, my mind was struggling to let go of inconveniencing all these people who had been called out of their homes so late in the evening. Then just after midnight our wriggly, cranky, serious faced boy arrived. 

Our little passenger is now fast approaching five months old & an absolute sleep depriving, time wasting, delight. He feeds like a sumo wrestler & can out-stare even the most seasoned pro in a staring competition. He thinks our bed is a hell of a lot better than his own & I'm too tired to disagree. Which means our nights consist of me creeping into bed a lot closer to midnight than conducive for optimal sleep, only to stumble out within the hour to collect Kade from his cradle (still in our room - these apron strings are a lot harder to sever this time round.) He'll latch on like starving man in front of an all you can eat buffet, before passing out in a warm, milky stupor minutes later. 

If I'm still semi conscious I'll put him back in his cradle...only to be summoned again within the hour. Rinse & repeat until the sun rises & the alarm declares the day must begin. The other alternative is to remain immobile all night long, as only a mother can, while the little bundle contentedly dozes the night through.

Right now I prefer some sleep over no sleep, so I'll continue to push Doug near out the bed while I play sleeping statues in the middle, with Kade taking prime position on my side of the bed.

We're surviving, I'm functioning - though that is up for debate some days, my coffee consumption is keeping the coffee bean business thriving & this too shall pass.

Clench, hold and release

Ben's birth was blessedly straight forward & quick enough. After four hours of active labour & a second degree tear, our 7lb 6oz first son arrived. There are so many cherished memories from the days following his birth, but there is one that really stands out personally. Still now, ten years later, I can recall every sensation & the emotions that whipped through me at the time.

Ben was just over twenty four hours old & I was slowly wheeling him along in his clear plastic, hospital issue bassinet - feeling a little tender with stitches located where stitches had never been before. We had just been for a visit to the common room & I was making our way back to our private room, anticipating the arrival of lunch (& with any luck a little nap for the both of us). I had just passed by the nurses station & half way down the corridor, still another few rooms to go yet until our own, when suddenly the urge to pee came upon me with no prior warning.

Urgently. 

Really urgently.

The shock of trying to clench those bruised, battered & swollen pelvic floor muscles, only to find that they didn't really feel like clenching much at all has haunted me through every birth that has followed over the last ten years. It is one time I genuinely feared I was going to wet myself, in public, & not just a little bit either. 

I knew the importance of doing kegels during pregnancy & in the weeks & months following birth. I'd read the little snippets of real life experiences that were included in the articles of keeping your pelvic floor tight 'n high, written in by women who found out the hard way just how necessary it was to clench - pull it all in without pulling a face. 
With tips including, but not limited too, 'If you're doing the dishes or hanging out the washing, do your pelvic floors as well.'
Or, 'When you sit to feed the baby work those muscles at the same time - clench, release & repeat.'

Some how I mostly kept my bodily fluids within my body & high tailed it in a waddling, thigh clenched gait as fast as I could while pushing Ben along, still oblivious in his bassinet back to our room. That afternoon I resumed the clench, hold, release & repeat. Just a few at a time, enough to gently locate them & check they were still in potential working order, then slowly increasing the intensity over the following days & weeks. That call to nature was just far too close for comfort...& too far from a lavatory. 

Seventeen months later & half way through Rianan's pregnancy I joined a pregnancy exercise class run by a physiotherapist. Several times through each session she would run us through our pelvic floor exercises - advocating passionately just how important it really was to do them. Beginning as soon as we felt able to, while lying down to avoid putting too much extra pressure on our vagina's that had just gone a round in the boxing ring with a three kilo battering ram - or so it may seem. 

Rianan's birth was just as good as her older brother - a water birth, just under four hours & another slight second degree tear after coming out all in the one contraction. In the wee hours of the morning as dawn illuminated the clouds, I laid on my side while gazing at our daughter, memorising her five hours old newness, & began the first gentle clenches of those hidden muscles. This time, when nature screamed a waterfall was coming, I wouldn't be caught blindsided. 

After having more than the standard quota of pregnancies & births, I know how crucial it is to keep my pelvic floor stronger than my biceps. Especially if I want my bladder to stay where it belongs, along with it's contents, while taking Ben & Jack on in a round of soccer, chasing Blake & Will around in a game of chasey or joining Rianan in a display of kart-wheels & handstands. Though they aren't as easy as it was twenty odd years ago...

Over the last ten years I'm certain I've done more kegels than I have changed nappies. They've paid off though - especially after suffering morning sickness with Clay & hugging the toilet bowl every morning, or more recently finding myself succumbing to the sneezes of hay fever. 

If you are quietly suffering incontinence, no matter how mild or severe, go & see a physiotherapist who specialises in pelvic floor. Ignoring the matter won't fix anything. 

How many times have you clenched, held & released so far today? 

Everything, nothing & a birthday

I've been struggling to write this week. Two posts were started, kinda got halfway, then shoved back to the drafts folder. Just not flowin'.

I was rambling on about food, I'm not going to go into details because it may re-appear one day. So it remains relegated to the background, it seems I'm always waffling (ha, see what I did there? Boom tish.) on about food here. I figure you're all probably thinking "Yeah, we get it already." 

Then there was some thoughts about body image, largely because there is so much of it on the net at the moment, particularly around the comments from one stupid arsed male. Doubt his personal training business is going to take off any time soon. Everyone else already has it covered, so much better than I ever could articulate via keyboard. Plus I'm not a mainstream popular blogger, so it felt as if I was just echoing their sentiments. We'll just leave it as he is a douche & all mother's are beautiful exactly as they are, five minutes after giving birth or five years. Rounding up on a quote from Milena Katz "It would be better to concentrate on self worth. What you are like as a mother is more important than how you look in a size 10 top." 

Inspiration crept up when I was thinking back & comparing how I felt being a first time mum (like a fish out of water) to this time round being a sixth time mum. How I took on the words & advice of 'experts' from parenting magazines (& supermarket aisles, baby books & child & youth health nurses at the local community center) as Gospel & near drove myself cuckoo. But I wasn't entirely sure what point I was trying to make, or if I was just letting my own past insecurities out of the closet. For now that closet door can stay shut on that post.

So that was my week of introspection that ran around in what head space was available & not absorbed with other generic minion raising thoughts. Beyond that our life has been normal - full of food, noise, social lives & washing.

In exciting news, Will turned three. 

This happy, vivacious, adorable, cheeky, milo-moustached minion has graduated from the terrible two's & is now stretching his wings in the terrifying three's. Or terrific three's, depending on his erratic three year old moods & whether he's allowed another bowl of yogurt or not.

This little guy is so happy he walks around with a grin on his face 98% of the time. He makes my teeth hurt with his sweetness & my heart burst with love, wonder & pride. We created this awesome little guy, helped him grow from a squishy faced little newborn to a trike riding, slippery dipping, running, jumping, climbing, car br'mming little boy. No longer a baby, now a fully fledged little boy.

Where did the time go. 

Sob.






** Yes, there is only two candles on Will's third birthday cake. No excuse other than not only do we get confused with their names, but also the candles required on their cakes. Another perk of being in a large family - the parents don't even know how to count candles let alone kids.

Passing days...

It was around this time last year that we found out I had a little minion on board. 
Today that little cluster of cells turned 4 months old.

I need time to slow down. 

I miss his unfocused newborn eyes.

I miss his delicate newborn face.

I miss his fuzzy newborn hair.

I miss his newborn smell.

I miss the way he would simply doze off on my chest. How just being close to my heartbeat could instantly soothe & settle.

I miss his little curled up limbs, reminiscent of the months spent curled up in the womb.

I miss his little spindly limbs & their instinctive reflexes.

I miss those special, dreamlike feeds in the middle of the night, when we were the only ones awake in those quiet hours. 

I miss gazing at all his mesmerizing newborn details.

I miss anticipating the precious first smile.

But time never stops.

Now I look forward to seeing his gorgeous smile when he wakes in the morning.

I look forward to seeing his face fill out & change week by week, month by month.

I look forward to seeing his little legs grow chubby & strong.

I look forward to hearing his soft voice cooing to tell us all sorts of stories.

I look forward to seeing his eyes light up when his siblings walk into the room.

I look forward to seeing his personality shine brighter each day.

I look forward to watching each skill develop, the first precious giggles, rolling over to reach an elusive toy, those wobbly first steps.

I look forward to seeing Doug's eyes in his.

I look forward to discovering his favorite foods, favorite toy, favorite blankie.

I look forward to watching the little boy hiding in this little baby emerge.

I look forward to reminiscing on these fleeting days.