Sleepless Nights

Author: Veronica

  • 23 weeks. Yes, already. Yes, I know how big I am. Thank you.

    23 Weeks

    New this week:

    My uterus reached the level of my ribs and has been pushing on them steadily, causing all sorts of havoc and mayhem. Namely dislocated ribs that either cause me to throw myself at Nathan’s feet wailing “FIX ITTTT”, or leap to my feet to relocate the ribs under my breasts so that I can continue to breathe. Fun times, fun times.

    The rising level of my uterus is also promoting large amounts of reflux, extra nausea and a need to sleep propped up on four separate pillows, and that’s not counting the pillows supporting my hips. Which also hurt.

    Have I mentioned pregnancy when you’ve got Ehlers Danlos is not much fun?

    On the flip side, no symptoms of pre-term labour, or bleeding. So really, all the important bits are happening how they should.

    Isaac finally felt his sister kick – but only because she kicked him in the head while he was trying to get a cuddle. I laughed. He wasn’t impressed.

    I expect most blogging from now on will be done from bed with a laptop however, sitting up in my computer chair is getting progressively more uncomfortable. My blood pressure insists on regularly bottoming out, meaning that my feet need to be raised most of the time and it’s just miserable.

    I’m holding onto the fact that at the end of this, I get a baby, all going well. I’ll be happier once I hit 27 weeks and happier again to hit 34. Til then, day by day.

    And now I need a nap.

  • What is actually there, VS what I want you to see

    With the rise of “Home Beautiful Bloggers” I have noticed a trend towards the airbrushing and prettifying of lives. Marita noticed this too and set up her “Real Homes” challenge, and Zoey has noticed it as well, addressing it in a post titled “10 things I am not good at”.

    And I’ll admit, there is a push towards making our lives cleaner and less messy. To make the hurts more sanitised and worthy of a “Better Homes and Gardens” article, a yes, we’ve had troubles, but look at how uplifting our ending is!

    This is where it’s easy to be a bit less than truthful with the truthiness of things. To photoshop the dirty bits out and skim over the mess.

    And so I present to you, a series of photos of my kitchen and dining room, entitled:

    What is actually there, VS what I want you to see.

    What is actually there: The Kitchen.

    The kitchen, taken from the living room. Bench top and shelves care of my father, who makes things for me. Hanging hooks (new!) care of Nathan. Hole in the wall covered by cardboard and duct tape, care of the previous owners and their stupid range hood that died and we’ve not had the money or inclination to replace. Red extension cord that runs to the other side of the house and powers my computer because my living room has NO power points.

    What I want you to see: The Kitchen.

    Artfully hanging pots, overexposed and given a slightly grainy filter. The edits are meant to draw attention away from the fact that they are mismatched and old.

    My gorgeous kitchenaid, that I was gifted by a friend after he won it in a competition. If I didn’t tell you that, I’d just let you assume that I can afford such luxuries.

    What is actually there: The Shelves.

    Lots of different types of tea, plus percolater coffee hiding in a silver cannister. Herbs, spices, sugar, salt. Isaac’s laxative, because I have to sneak it into his drinks, or he won’t drink it. This corner is perfect for sneaking things in. Dessert glasses gathering cobwebs underneath the shelves, as well as a snap lock bag of broad beans for planting.

    What I want you to see: The Shelves.

    Carefully blurred tea cannisters, sitting on a lovely wooden shelf. Slightly overexposed to hide dust and fingerprints.

    What is actually there: Hanging Spices.

    Various hanging spices, a pair of scissors that I thought I’d lost until I edited these photos and a hanging pudding. Also, a grimy windowframe in a horrible colour.

    What I want you to see: Hanging Spices.

    What is actually there: Fridge and Fruit Bowl.

    Freshly decluttered area next to the sink. Grimy wall and window frame. Empty jar. Canteen list stuck to the fridge. Spray bottle filled with lemon juice and disinfectant for when Isaac gets poo on the carpet. Gorgeous fruit bowl that was a wedding present from Kathy.

    What I want you to see. Fridge and Fruit Bowl.

    Fresh fruit. That’s all I want you to see of that corner.

    What is actually there: Dining room.

    Books. Nathan’s computer. Things shoved into the bookshelf willy nilly. I get points for having a table cloth on the table, but that’s a rarity, and anyway, it’s crooked.

    What I want you to see: Dining Room.

    Ceramic vase and platter from Mum. Really, if I’m trying to pretty things up, this is all you need to see of my dining room.

    In conclusion:

    Anyone can have a beautiful house on the Internet – all it requires is some carefully angled photos and a good photo editing program. You can’t see the bits I don’t photograph and you can’t make judgements based on things you can’t see.

    At the same time, anyone can have a perfect life on the Internet. It’s very easy to gloss over the shitty bits, it’s much harder to share reality. If you’re feeling inadequate about your organisational skills, your decorating, your life in general – remember, it’s very easy to present a version of reality online that is actually nothing like real life and you shouldn’t let someone else’s blog make you feel bad.

    Personally, I prefer my real life to any version I could pretty up.

    Disclaimer – I’d just spent an hour cleaning the kitchen and decluttering everything because it was giving me the shits. So it’s already tidier than normal.

  • And the rain just keeps coming

    It’s been raining for days.

    Not that I’m complaining; not when the tanks are filling up and there are puddles covering the paddock, making the ducks happy. Not when the garden is thriving and the grass has gone a pretty green colour, as the raindrops sparkle in the light. Not when the sky is darkly dramatic and interesting to watch.

    Still, it has been raining for days and being a country girl, it feels like it should be an auspicious start to May and the middle of Autumn, the season of hot soups and hot water bottle nights.

    The trees have dropped their leaves and stand bare naked, inhabited by crows in the early morning light as we drive Amy to school. Birds nests stand out in stark relief against the sky as I wonder about stopping and photographing them, before the rain falls down ever harder and I huddle inside my jacket in the slightly steamy warmth of the car.

    And it continues to rain.

    I dream of my grandmother nearly every night and wake up with a headache and scratchy eyes, damp patches on my pillow. I watch her die, again and again, before dreaming that she is alive and all is well again.

    I replay old scenarios in my head, the post death fallout that I was subjected to and wonder that it has the power to hurt me all over again.

    Anne Lamott tweets:

    If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better.

    And I hold onto that when I contemplate writing essays about things that hurt, in an attempt to lance the wounds that fester. Yes, I’m angry with you. I’m still angry with you – all of you.

    In the middle of all of this, the fetus continues to grow, while I wait for the end of winter. Her birth will herald the coming of my spring and I cannot wait.

    In the meantime, it continues to rain.

  • Why you shouldn’t sell your blog space for peanuts

    I’ve been blogging for a long time now and slowly, with the rise of mummyblogging in Australia, I’ve found myself on the lists that PR companies seem to share around. This means that I get offered some things that are interesting, a bunch of stuff that is totally unsuitable and have my inbox regularly filled with press releases that appear to want me to regurgitate them here for my readers.

    But here’s the thing:

    This space is not free.

    Sure, it’s only pixels on a computer screen and so therefore, if I decide that I love your charity/business/company and want to promote you for nothing, then I can.

    However.

    This space was built on trust capital. My trust capital, to be precise. My readers visit because I give them something that they’re looking for. Maybe that’s escapism, or an amusing story, or a diatribe about facebook. For whatever reason, visitors trust that the posts I put up here will contain good value.

    I’ve noticed recently a decline in high-value items for review. I’m not bemoaning this, I’m just stating it as fact. Instead of items that I will actually use, I’m being offered $15 kids shoes that I could buy myself, or cereal, or small value items that can be sent out cheaply and easily.

    It’s a natural evolution of things really; it’s easier to send 50 bloggers a small item than it is to send 5 bloggers a decent trial selection of product. Mass marketing at its finest.

    It’s nice to receive a few products in the mail that my children will eat or drink, something that I may decide to buy myself later on down the track.

    But I can’t seem to bring myself to write 200 words about a product that costs less than $10. In fact, the latest thing that arrived in the mail had a dollar value total of $6 and I was left wondering: Is this what I’ve sold my soul for?

    Sure, the product is great. The company is fantastic and one I’ve supported in the past. But I can’t get past being expected to promote something through my social media channels that I could have bought for the cost of a cup of coffee.

    I offer a sponsored post option here on Sleepless Nights. It’s in my media kit and while some businesses are hesitant to pay real money (but it’s so expensive, can’t we just have an in-post link that stays on your blog forever and ever for $40?), others have seen the value of dealing with engaged readers and have paid up promptly. It’s this that makes me so hesitant to sell my space for peanuts.

    And, I don’t think you should be devaluing yourself like that either. Giving away a $5 gift voucher, or writing about a food item that is worth less than a sandwich at the local bakery, it’s a bit ridiculous. You are worth more than a $10 product, and so is your trust capital.

    Sure, it’s your blog and you can do whatever you like with it.

    But if you sell your soul for peanuts to begin with, don’t expect businesses to start paying you anything more later on down the track.

    ***

    ETA:

    The ever lovely Zoey and I were discussing this earlier in the week and she’s got things to say about not selling your space for nothing too. You can read about her thoughts here.

  • Watching the weather come in.

    Watching the weather come in

    Also seen while outside freezing my nipples off: a murmuration of starlings.