Sleepless Nights

Blog

  • 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.

  • When your new sibling is actually a duck

    The thing about having a duckling inside, without any of its siblings, is that it doesn’t realise it’s a duckling. Sure, neither of my other children are living in a plastic box with a sawdust floor, but ducklings aren’t great at seeing the big picture.

    Ducklings also have a built in suvival reflex that goes something like “HOLY FUCK I’M LOST AND ALONE, PEEP PEEP PEEP PEEP”. This has enabled me to find many a duckling separated from the mother, all I have to do is follow the peeping.

    Unfortunately, the inside duckling sometimes freaks the fuck out and goes “HOLY FUCK, I’M LONELY, PEEP PEEP PEEP PEEP” which doesn’t help me in the slightest, as I know exactly where the little thing is.

    It has meant that as soon as the frantic peeping starts, my children race for the duckling box, vying to be the first one to reassure the baby that it’s not alone. My children sit around the box chatting and the duckling tones its peeping down to “hey, I’m joining in the conversation as well” and everyone is happy.

    I wasn’t quite sure what I was expecting, but apparently the duckling assumes that my children are its siblings and my children are happy to peep back at it.

    Also, while they’re bothering the duckling, they are not screeching at me.

    Everybody wins!

    Amy is back to school today, which is divine, even though I am now down one duckling silencer. Her ear has improved, thank goodness, and I was delighted to drop her off in her classroom today and then walk away.

    I love my daughter, but I really love her being at school as well.

  • On ear infections and the effectiveness of laxatives

    So Isaac’s laxatives kicked in last night before bedtime, which worried me for what the night would herald. I needn’t have worried, he slept through the night.

    Amy however was awake at 8pm, sobbing because her ear hurt. We knew her ear hurt, she’d been to the doctor earlier and been prescribed antibiotics for the infection that was hanging around in there.

    At 9pm, I took her to bed with me, in the hope that we would get some sleep. By midnight, I realised why Amy is always so tired – the kid doesn’t sleep. No, she just rolls around in bed and pretends to be quiet.

    Another dose of panadol was given, right before she decided to vomit.

    I’m rather pleased that she made it to the kitchen sink before throwing up her dinner and antibiotics. Nathan tucked her into bed and dealt with the vomit, while I tried to sleep through the rib dislocations that have become a nighttime norm.

    I kept her home from school again today, which was wise, as she threw up her breakfast and first dose of antibiotics this morning, right before Isaac’s bottom exploded and I was left shouting at Isaac to just “for the love of freaking god, LAY STILL, while I put this pukey blanket in the wash, LAY STILL DAMMIT.”

    He didn’t lay still, but at least Amy’s doona contained most of the vomit.

    The lump in his stomach is maybe a bit smaller, but still there, so we continue with the laxative until the lump disappears.

    This is what my life has come to.

    In other news, my ducklings hatched and overnight, something made them vanish. Maybe a feral cat, maybe a snake, but I am minus six ducklings this morning and whatever it was, upset the mother enough to abandon two pipping babies. One was dead this morning, the other finished its hatch with the help of a warm box in front of the heater inside and is currently drying out.

    BUT! Really, what I wanted to talk to you about was Saturday.

    On Saturday, the ever lovely Frogpondsrock has her head shorn in order to raise money for research into Leukaemia. If I’m complaining about my children being unwell, at least Amy’s ear infection will clear up and Isaac’s impaction will dissolve. Leukaemia is not that easy.

    I would really really love if you could donate a couple of dollars to her here. She’s being even braver, chopping off all her hair in front of a large audience of Roller Derby Fans.

    I’ll be at the event too, pregnant and unwell, but wielding a camera and likely enjoying the fact that I am there without my children.