Sleepless Nights

Author: Veronica

  • More stable than the greenhouse of doom

    The latest project here has involved Nathan building me a greenhouse out of all of the scrap wood we’ve got lying around.

    My father gifted us the laserlight to cover the frame when it’s built, so all we had to do was build it.

    And build we have. Yesterday was spent measuring wood, swearing over warped bits of timber and me holding things while Nathan screwed it all together. Isaac helped, and did really quite well, considering there was both a circular saw AND a drill in evidence (I had to hold his ears and cuddle him tightly while the circular saw was in use).

    The last greenhouse was a debacle. Does everyone remember the last greenhouse? How it flew merrily across the paddock in the wind and when it was rebuilt and star picketed to the ground, it decided to try and murder me?

    Remember?

    I remember. Oh boy, do I remember. You haven’t LIVED until a greenhouse has (apparently) become sentient and tried to stab you in the internal organs with its stabby supports of doom.

    Hmmph.

    Anyway, this greenhouse promises to be rather a lot more stable than the other greenhouse.

    (photo care of Isaac, who did a good job, I think)

    Tomorrow we will finish up the last of the structural supports and start screwing laserlight to it.

    And then I will have a greenhouse that won’t fall down; that won’t try and kill me; and that won’t try and escape to someone elses property.

    Nice.

    Photo also by Isaac. Aged three. Isn’t he clever?

  • 18 weeks

    Alternative title: Not an April Fools Day post.

    18 weeks pregnant

    I feel huge. And I know in reality that I am not that big, but my lungs are squished, my bladder is squished and my ribs are increasingly uncomfortable. We won’t even discuss the wonky things that my pelvis is doing.

    18 weeks pregnant

     

    The bad bits:

    Nausea continues. I’m still medicated for the nausea, which due to the type of medication has made my breasts leak early. I call this blatently unfair. The meds also give me a constant low-level headache, which is miserable. At least, I’m blaming the meds, it could be the Ehlers Danlos and hormones.

    Thrush. You know, thrush is pretty rotten at the best of times, but this pregnancy has thrown my system off seriously and I can’t seem to clear it up, no matter how many probiotics I eat. Hat tip to Blackmores Women’s Bio-Balance stuff that I first tried after a Bloggers Brunch, which seems to keep things manageable, if not cleared up. It’s miserable.

    Itching breasts. WHAT IS WITH THAT? The last two pregnancies that worked, I didn’t get itchy skin until the stretchmarks started to appear. This time, my breasts are constantly itchy. It’s driving me batty.

    Reflux. Something I am also still medicated for, considering the generalised laxity of my gastric system. My meds keep it mostly under control, until I try to go to bed with anything less than three pillows in strategic positions.

    My inability to sit up in a chair comfortably. Apparently, my internal organs have decided that the best place they can relocate to is my ribcage. Unfortunately, my ribcage houses my lungs and there is not enough room to sit up straight and also breathe. I was hoping to get to Melbourne in May for the Emerging Writers Festival, but I may have to give it a miss, considering I don’t think I could sit up for long enough to attend any events.

    My blood pressure, which is sitting slightly above dead and requires copious amounts of water and salty food in order to stop the dizziness.

    The Good bits.

    The increasing pokiness of kicks. I find myself worrying less about the baby dying and more about where it’s going to be placing its feet next.

    No new stretchmarks.

    An actual baby hanging around in there. That really trumps all of the bad bits, doesn’t it?

    And hey, I got to go to the movies with Nathan last week, which was a huge deal. We saw The Hunger Games in gold class, care of vouchers from a mate and seriously, that’s the ONLY way to watch movies, especially when you’re pregnant.

    I am contenting myself with the fact that I am almost half way there and that in a fortnight, we have our big ultrasound that will confirm that there is only one baby in there (one wiggly baby, who can kick in three places at once) and what sex that baby is.

    If you’d like to start placing bets on what flavour of baby we’re having, feel free to do so.

  • On the nature of this blog, and telling truths

    I started this blog back in 2007, because I discovered that if I didn’t connect with adults in a meaningful fashion, and really quickly, I was going to go insane. My daughter was almost a year old and still not sleeping through the night, or napping during the day. My physical and mental health were at an all time low and I was isolated geographically.

    My blog became my platform. A place for me to share what I wanted to share, to rail against the state of motherhood as I saw it, and to remember to laugh. I connected and wrote, and loved and lived and grew as a blogger.

    While this was going on, the Australian blogosphere was a tiny place, filled with mostly photographers and business bloggers. Personal blogging hadn’t quite exploded onto the scene and there weren’t a huge amount of mummybloggers.

    Because at that stage in my life, I was merely a vessel for my screamy baby to cling to, I gravitated towards the US Mommybloggers, reading and devouring their stories of personal triumph and failure. It was the failures that gave me more hope, because these women were doing what I had to do every day – picking themselves back up and continuing to live their life, regardless of what else was going on.

    It was a time of change in the US Mommyblogosphere, as conferences popped up all over the country and mummyblogging exploded – while I watched from half a world away and tried to keep my sanity intact. This is not an easy feat when your toddler insists on trying to throw herself off all the furniture and you continue to fail to get pregnant.

    Slowly, my blog grew and I developed a community here. A group of women, most of whom I am still proud to call my friends, they held me up and supported me through a scary pregnancy, a tough health diagnosis and subsequent diagnoses for my children.

    Blogging in Australia has changed dramatically in the last five years. This is not a good change, or a bad change, it’s merely change and it is what it is. There are a large amount of mummybloggers in the sphere now and brands clamouring to work with them. There are comments and an “A List” and awards and conferences and through it all, I’ve continued to write here, telling my story, writing out the things that needed to get out of my head.

    Traffic grows, pretty consistently, but comments here have dropped lately and I miss them. I miss the conversation, but I can’t be someone I am not and I cannot try any harder than I am.

    People declare that we should care about our readers, more than we care about ourselves. I love everyone who reads here, but I’d be lying if I said that Sleepless Nights was anything other than what it is. It is therapy for me, it is how I prevent myself stabbing pens into my eyes.

    The comment drop off, I can see why and how it’s happened – the explosion of Mommyblogging in the US caused a very similar effect and I saw established bloggers turning off their comments in an effort to make blogging “pure” to make it about the stories and the writing.

    People don’t have enough time to read everywhere and there is a bit of market saturation. Plus you know, broken genetics don’t make for the most uplifting reading.

    I must admit, it’s tempting sometimes, to close comments and pretend that I don’t care about the conversation. I’d be lying, but I hear tell that I am a decent enough actor when the circumstances call for it and I’m pretty sure I could pretend for a little while.

    Maybe I just resent being judged on visible numbers, rather than on the quality of writing. Maybe I resent being told what I ought to be doing, and how I ought to care more about the perception of others, rather than my own fulfillment and sanity.

    Or maybe I’ve annoyed too many people by pointing out the things no one wants to talk about and I’ve got no chance of ever being given a fair trial.

    I’m not quite sure anymore.

    What I do know is that after almost five years, I am comfortable in this space and I know that blogging is cyclical. What goes around, comes around, and eventually, everything turns full circle.

    I will continue to write stories and poke at things that annoy me, because that’s what I do. I will break rules and publish on the weekend, and I will not track my readers to find out when you care more about reading and when you care less.

    I will write.

    Because, without this space, I would have gone mad a long time ago.

  • Looking on the bright side. (aka, I’m not at DPcon and I’m trying to be cheerful)

    There are benefits to being home this weekend, rather than in Melbourne catching up with my friends. I’m trying to hold onto those benefits, rather than sulk about the fact that March is a bad month financially and I couldn’t afford to go.

    So, here is my list of reasons why it’s more awesome that I am at home.

    – I slept in my own bed last night, with enough pillows to support my ever-expanding baby mass.

    – Outside working in the garden is my very own personal masseuse. Sure, I can’t pay him in real money and call the debt even, but he’s rather good at putting my ribs back in place and easing sore muscles.

    – Fudge. I have a large supply of fudge and I’m not afraid to eat it.

    – Comfortable seats. My computer chair is comfy. My recliner is comfy. My bed with stacks of pillows is comfy. All of these places are more comfortable to tweet from than conference room chairs, especially when you are pregnant and extremely bendy.

    – Sunshine. Tasmania has pulled out the gorgeous sunshine for me and I can go outside and bask in it, while still keeping up with the conference, via twitter and Louisa’s live blog.

    – Snuggles from my children. I miss them when I’m away. Plus, just quietly, Isaac is rather unwell, so it’s a good thing I’m home anyway.

    – Snacks. Not only do I have fudge, but there are cheese and crackers, olives, apples and all kinds of foods in my house and I don’t have to worry about interrupting anything, or annoying anyone by eating exactly when I feel like it.

    – My book. Yes, I’m reading a good book at the moment and I can read through all the boring bits, like speeches and panel changes. Not quite as good as laughing and chatting with my friends, but better than nothing.

    – Good tea. I’m not stuck drinking hotel tea. ‘Nuff said.

    And yes, I know there are downsides to being at home, like the fact I have to actually cook dinner tonight and there is a sick child coughing all over me, plus you know, the really big deal of not seeing all of my friends, but I’m holding onto the bright side (and watching twitter, intently).

    How are you this fine Friday? If you’re not at DPcon and you wanted to be, how are you distracting yourself? And do you want to come tweet with the #notatdpcon crowd?

    This post is also part of Dorothy’s “Things I Know” because these are the things I know are awesome about being at home right now.

  • On drawing parallels between blogging and other niche communities

    A little while ago, I was watching a documentary about, of all things, competitive arcade gaming. It was a channel flick that we stayed on, just to see what it was about and before Nathan and I realised, we were invested in the story and cheering for the underdog.

    As I watched it, I was struck by the similarities of culture in this niche arcade gaming group, to mummyblogging. You wouldn’t think it, but the similarities were astounding.

    In the early 1980’s, a man broke the world record for the top score in Donkey Kong. He remained the world record holder for so long, that he was loathe to give up his spot, and so when, twenty years later, a family man broke the world record and beat his score on his home arcade machine, the “leader” pulled strings within the community to have the new world record thrown out.

    It was interesting to watch the politics of things, to watch the cronyism and sycophants trying to do everything they could to stop the “up-and-comer” from beating the world record. The maneuvering behind the scenes, the whispered conversations in corners and the favouritism that went on.

    It was a lot like blogging.

    I thought about it for a while and realised that it is probably like this in most niche communities, where there are benefits to being on top. The people at the top of the pack have a vested interest in staying at the top of the pack, while at the same time, refusing to acknowledge publicly that there is a “pack” at all.

    We’re all equal, they cry, this way is fair for everyone, as they scrabble to maintain position, jostling and pushing.

    I’m not saying they shouldn’t be there – generally if you’re at the top of the pack, you’re there for a reason and no one disputes that.

    But in blogging, I’ve seen very very good writers have their blogs passed over time and time again, while other bloggers are lauded as the pinnacle of success.

    [I should point out that most of what I’ve watched happen has happened in the US blogosphere, as Australia is only just reaching that point now.]

    It’s interesting to know that this phenomena; the wanting to keep the status quo, not wanting to rock the boat and certainly, not wanting to upset the people perceived to be “at the top” is not unique to any community.

    It appears that it’s just human nature, which is interesting, don’t you think?

    It makes me wonder, does this stem from when humans were first evolving and everyone had a vested interest in keeping the leaders leading, the followers following, and the questioners kicked out.

    Like I said. Interesting.

    —

    If you’re interested, this is the documentary.