Isaac

“But I’m not tired Mummy”

by Veronica on May 16, 2012

in Isaac

“But I’m not tired Mummy” he says, as he snuggles into my lap and tucks his head under my chin. His fingers twine through my hair as he breathes a contented sigh. “I’m weally weally not bery tired”.

I’ve been trying to convince him to have a small sleep. We were up until 3.30am together, with Isaac vomiting every ten minutes to begin with, before easing to every 25 minutes. By the end of it, we were both exhausted. He fell asleep between vomits and I watched him carefully, to make sure he didn’t choke. He only tried to once.

By 3.30, I took us both to my bed, as Nathan prepared to sleep on the couch. With buckets and towels at the ready, I prepared for waking every half an hour, but his body had had enough and he fell asleep deeply enough to stop the retching.

***

It was 10.30pm and I was just falling asleep when I heard Isaac start to cry, before that distinctive cough that heralds a child about to throw up. I was up and moving before I realised it, in his bedroom just as he started to throw up.

Pulling him out of his bed, I rubbed his back while he threw up on our feet.

This is parenting, I thought.

This is the reality. I could have told the story about a sick child and the snuggling this morning, but instead I’m telling you that vomit on your feet when you’d rather be sleeping is what parenting has in store for us all.

***

At 7am Isaac’s eyes flew open and I cursed his body clock that would wake him up (wake us up) so early after such a rotten night. I got him a drink of water and turned on cartoons, before stroking his back and falling back asleep.

20 minutes later Amy was in the bedroom with us as well, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Figuratively of course, I was too busy hiding my head under a pillow to check the actual bushiness of her tail.

I debated sending her to school, before deciding that it was too much work. Not to mention a risky endeavour – if she’s going to catch this bug, I want her safely with us where we can keep an eye on her, rather than vomiting all over the front row of the classroom, like a friend of mine did in year 1.

We stayed in bed for as long as possible, but sleeping in is a whole different ball game when you’ve got two children in bed with you, kicking each other and crying.

***

It was not a pleasant night, but you don’t sign up for parenting without expecting to be thrown up on at some point.

And as Isaac tucked himself under my chin for a snuggle this morning, I decided that it’s the bad bits that make you appreciate the good.

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Outside in the garden, Isaac and I were hunting for frogs and spiders to photograph when I learned a few new things.

1 – My centre of gravity has changed drastically and my balance is wobbly at best.

2 – My son will push me over in order to see the frogs.

3 – Suddenly standing ankle deep in a garden bowl of cold water is not the most fun thing I could envision for my left foot.

4 – If a frog thinks it is well hidden, it won’t move while you photograph it. However, it will move very quickly if your three year old tries to touch it.

5 – Alpine strawberries (or “Wild Strawberries”) will continue to flower and fruit despite frosts and cold weather, making them perfect for Tasmania.

And finally, last but not least,

6 – If you ask your son to “just stand still and LOOK AT ME” so that you can take a photo, not only will he find the muddiest patch of ground to stand in, but he will pull this face.

What have you learned recently?

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Boys are a danger to themselves

by Veronica on April 15, 2012

in Gotta Laugh,Isaac

There are things I don’t expect to have to do while I am sitting on the toilet trying not to throw up, while a baby kicks me in the internal organs.

Like:

Catching my son as he rides his tricycle backwards at full speed, down the toilet step, tipping his bike over with him underneath it and sending him hurtling towards the concrete.

More than five years of parenting has honed my reflexes and I managed to catch his arm and drag him upright before his skull connected with the cement*.

Sure, I also hit him in the cheek with his handlebars, but saving your boy from a fractured skull is definitely the way to feel like you’re nailing this mothering gig.

Now, if I could just get him to wear a helmet, this whole thing would be easier.

***

For the record, we have about an acre of grass for bike riding, making helmets pretty unneccesary, but Isaac likes the one concrete pathway between the house and toilet. OF COURSE HE DOES. Also, he hates helmets. Take it up with him, not me.

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Parenting is a funny thing sometimes. I’m currently writing this while my children fight in the background.

Isaac has just had a meltdown over the indignity of being forced into underwear, rather than the familiar comfort of nappies, and Amy is declaring that Isaac has stolen all her love (translation: He hugged her and sucked away all her hugs, so now she doesn’t have any).

It’s an interesting time, having a three year old and a five year old. Much pleasanter than when Isaac was newly toddling and Amy was throwing herself off furniture shouting “TATCH ME MUMMY!” but that is mostly because I can send them outside, content in the fact that they’re probably not going to kill themselves.

It only took Amy touching the electric fence twice in her short lifetime to make sure she never goes near the fence again, and her emphatic warnings to Isaac that THAT FENCE BITES is enough to keep him from escaping as well.

And so this morning, after a bit of a rough start, my children headed outside to play, while I stayed in bed, occasionally being woken by shouting under my window. When I emerged an hour later, I discovered that they’d harvested all of my ripe tomatoes for me, picked and eaten all of the strawberries, run the outside tank to fill up the duck’s water, had a picnic in the greenhouse and decided that they were having tomato salad for lunch.

I can live with that.

It’s a bit daunting to be heading back into newborn territory when my children are finally getting old enough to not require my supervision every second of every day, but by the same token, I am really looking forward to having a smooshy baby again. Amy and Isaac mostly sleep through the night, we’ve got Isaac’s chewing, swallowing, bowel and sensory issues under some sort of control, Amy is at school full time and even with the screaming meltdowns, it’s mostly smooth sailing.

When you’re deep in the hell that is a toddler and a newborn in the same house, you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. People tell you that one day it will be easier, but you can’t believe them, because right now you’re covered in baby vomit and milk, while trying (and failing) to stop your toddler from emptying an entire container of flour on the floor.

The funny thing is, it does get easier. My children play together for hours on end and my selective hearing has improved to the point that I can ignore most of the fighting.

Even knowing that come September, we will have a newborn in the house again, I think it’s going to be okay. Amy will be six (and you guys, she is learning to READ – and LOVING IT. I’m thrilled), Isaac will only be a few months off four, and I think it’s going to be okay.

Plus, third babies are reputed to be pretty bomb-proof.

I’m sort of counting on that.

Where are you in your parenting journey?

Are you enjoying it, or are you still holding on by your fingernails?

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This is what my life has become

by Veronica on April 5, 2012

in Amy,Gotta Laugh,Isaac

A long time ago, I used to be a real person, with a real job. Nowadays, I live inside my head, writing things and being attacked by small children needing kisses, wiped noses and food, in equal quantities.

I do not regret this change.

This morning, Isaac ran up to me while I was brushing my teeth.

“Mummy, my bum huuuurts! It’s hurting! I need you to rub it better.”

And he wouldn’t leave me alone until I rubbed him better.

The other day, cries of “OH NO! I wee’d and the wee is running down my legs, MUMMY HELP!!!” emanated from the bedroom. I had to go and rescue him from his soaked socks and pants immediately.

He thanked me gravely, when he was clean again.

Amy was snuggling me after a teary meltdown. She burrowed into my neck while I read my book and it wasn’t until I felt the damp that I realised she was using my shoulder to wipe her nose.

Thanks kid.

Driving Amy to school, Isaac got very upset in the car and started shouting:

“AMY! Stop looking out of MY WINDOW! It’s MY WINDOW! NOOOOOOOOOO! STOP LOOKING!!!”

I was forced to remind Isaac that Amy was allowed to look out of any window. He disagreed, loudly.

Amy, showing maturity that I wasn’t sure she had yet, very nicely refrained from looking out of his window.

At least, she stopped while he was watching.

This is what my life has become and I’m pretty okay with that.

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