So much better, even running better

My mood has flipped this week. Last Monday, Gus threw up play dough, Rose drew on the furniture with crayon and Gus almost killed a small dog. The owner did not have a lead on her pooch so I firmly and maniacally told her to put one (f'ing) on. I spent the next two hours crying. Not good. I felt out of control and it scared me. But things are definitely looking up. I was asleep by 9.00pm every night last week. I also realised I wasn't taking my iron pill. After ticking all the symptoms for iron deficiency anaemia, I have started taking them again and energy has been returning. I don't know if it is the pill or my head, but I'm feeling better, happy, and stable.

I've signed up for a third of a craft fair table. The fair is April 14th and at this moment I have nothing to sell. I do, however, like the deadline and purpose. Seven weeks to get my craft on! Also, I booked a flight to England last night. It is my birthday present - I'm going in April so I can attend a friend's wedding. I'm so so so thrilled. I wanted to go so badly and thought it wasn't going to happen as I didn't have enough money or miles, and then last night all these new flights popped up for 60,000 miles (I had 66,000) YAYYYY. I'm taking Tom as I'm still breast feeding exclusively, but Mum and Howard will babysit while I go to the wedding overnight. I think that black dress is going to get another outing!

Tom's hands are the current Tom fascination. He sits in his brown bouncy chair staring fixedly at his hanging sqirrel and hedgehog. He expertly gets one hand to them. This morning he was showing off by grabbing squirrel with both and then moving his left hand over to hedgehog. One in each hand! The boy is learning. He had a look to say "Boo ya hedgy, I got you!"

Rose has the most charming little sayings all of a sudden. "Oh my", "mmmm, yes, mmm". Where on earth did she get "oh my". I'll take it considering the potty mouths Brent and I still have with two young ones.

refreshed and recharged

Last night, Tom woke once to feed. This morning, he rolled over front to back and back to front. This is progress. He's a fabulous three-month old person. He smiles at everyone. He can stay awake in the ergo. He tolerates his sister screaming "Tom Tom" in his face. He loves his baths. He has adorable round blue eyes and increasingly chunky limbs. He adores attention, cooing at mama coos. He actively reaches for toys. We have left the fourth trimester behind us, thank God.

I'm feeling much much much more positive about everything. Rereading my last post was a huge kick up the arse. Not depressing, more inspiring. I am doing a great job of managing two babies, a marriage, a dog. Of course some things could go better at times, but, Jesus, I'm doing it. I am also going ahead with my little money making schemes. I have posted my first "Rock the Reading Test" practice test on teacherspayteachers and it has had five views. Also, the knitting business is a go, slow go, but a go.

The Night Shadows

"A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature us constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other." (p. 11)

Page eleven and Dickens has nailed the major problem with humanity; a person can never completely understand another person. I don't think anyone has any real hope in understanding themselves, so understanding other people are impossible. I'm one month from turning thirty and my own personality, temperament, individuality is just starting to come into focus. I now recognize the following things about myself: I have a temper. I bottle things up and lose control. I'm unable to cope with public embarrassment or failure. I fail to finish things. I have little confidence in myself. I need praise. I flake out on things. This entire list is negative. OK, positive, I can work hard, I can multi-task, I'm a good mother.

This is depressing, but therapeutic. There's a better me in here. Reading this wants me to start grabbing life and take some risks. If I fail, I fail, it will be good for me.

I'm doing my craft table.

perspective please

I cried three times today. On my own, in the kitchen, with my back to the kids. Except during the lunchtime nap edition of "Jolly Barnyard", I did have to pause and control my breaking voice. Is this normal? Is it OK that I am regularly crying and feeling completely overwhelmed? Perspective please.

I had a baby thirteen weeks ago.
Baby has not slept through the night, not even close.
I have not slept through the night, not even close.
I am looking after baby and two year old on my own from 7.00am until 5.30pm every day.
I do not have any family here to beg to come and help.
I get everyone out of the house every day for morning activities and afternoon dog walks, rain or shine.
I'm exclusively breast feeding.
Dinner is ready every night before 6.00pm.
The hoover comes out at least once a week.
The dog gets fed.
I talk to friends most days.

I feel like I can't complain. Last time I tried to explain how trapped and sad I feel sometimes, I got, "Well, go back to work then." Way to make me feel better. I need to ask for help more. I need to reach out to people more. I'm turning myself into a pressure cooker that keeps exploding every ten days. We need a babysitter so we can get out and away from the kids. But, I think I need to be a little easier on myself. This is hard.

who needs sleep?

Me, I do, I do. But, I'm not getting it. Well, not entirely true. I'm probably getting five hours a night. I'm a sleeper, I love my sleep, I love at least nine hours of uninterrupted sleep. I know I will have them again, but I miss them so badly. I'm jealous of my two year old and her eleven hours nights of blissful slumber. I haven;t had a full night's sleep for over three months and my body feels like it is slowly disintegrating. The days feel like I'm wearing a resistance parachute that is not helping me lose the baby fat. But, this week, it feels even worse, like my normal has been reduced 20%. I'm 80% of myself. Sleep, please come back soon.

The cause of this is our little man. He sleeps beautifully until 1.00am or 2.00am and then is up every hour. Every hour, we know we are up shushing, rocking, repacifing, crying (me alongside the little man). Our nights have been cut in half. We are trying all kinds of sleep tactics. He is currently super swadddled (his arms anchored with a scarf and swaddle blanket one top). We are dropping the dream feed tonight. I'm sleeping with him, while Brent sleeps in the spare room. No wonder having children destroy marriages. This will obviously, not last forever. Perspective is good, but sleep would be even better.