Daddy is Nice

Every time my husband feels helpless with the chaos our kids bring, he comes back from Arya’s room and says: “I HAD to give her the iPad cause we need to have some time for ourselves”.

And I follow Arya every day restricting her iPad hours just for this.

Today was the same, he, working from home, let the emotionally blackmailing almost-three-year-old chipmunk watch her cartoons and once he’s left I had to pick up the mess cutting Arya off her addiction.

It was the nap time so of course I got treated with real diamond tears … and this: “Mummy, you’re not nice. Daddy’s nice”. And she sat down desperately in the corner to finish her lamentations.

“Oooof course daddy’s nice. Ooof course he is”

Advertisements

Last Night – Rather Far From Awesome

Every baby is different they say. The second one is easier – they say. It’s easier with Ghaya – I say – perhaps because I’m used to sleepless nights.

All true.

But when your baby suddenly decides to suck your boob 6 hours straight at night. It still hurts you know, the boob, when they feed, you know… but you can put on a brave face and suffer through for the immense love that’s inside you…

NOT FOR SIX HOURS STRAIGHT WHEN YOU TRY TO SLEEP IN A SITTING POSITION WITH YOUR UNPROPPED ARMS HOLDING 4KG.

The first two hours you are so happy to see your baby eat. In the third hour you try to put yo baby down for just 15 minutes so you could have a rest, maybe a short nap with God’s help. Only to be treated with the deafening scream so powerful that if you were made of glass that’s it – you would become a million pieces in the first nanosecond of the resonating sound.

In the fourth hour you beg your husband to take the baby with him to the furthest room from your bedroom and just for reference you check your breast which from cup size D turned into “whatever three sizes below flat” there is. Then you cover your ears with the pillow (because the shrieking hunger cry does not stop) and keep repeating: “but I’m pretty sure I ran out of milk! I don’t have milk anymore”.

In the fifth hour you start crying hysterically only to start wondering if you are really upset because the bloody tears are not coming out of your eyes. You then realise you’re bloody dehydrated from all the sucking. With your baby still stuck to your nipple you start feeling so dry that half a litre of water passed by your husband and drank with one gulp still does not help producing saliva and you’re pretty sure your brain shrank to the size of a resin because the 90% of water they keep saying we are made off is gone. GONE! Forever! Next thing – you’re trying to check your nipples if by any chance blood is not pouring out of them. Your baby-turned-vampire has now definitely moved on to your veins for the supply of any liquid.

Then you fall asleep and wake up only twice more for relaxing shorter feeds.

7am – you wake up, although you’re not sure if it’s still you. You’re on your own now. You and the zombie

This Is the Last One so Take a Mental Picture Forever

It’s been two weeks and two days since my second beam of love, life and joy greeted this world and I feel myself again. My mind and my body have been recovered and I feel fulfilled. Although I do admit, I look at this peaceful tiny face and I think to myself: “This is the last time I’m holding such a tiny thing in my hands. Surely we won’t have another one. This is it. Now watch them both grow and no turning back time. So remember each cell, each gesture, like this one: each facial expression, like this one 🙂

Although the ones that will hang on the walls are always these ones: 

What I Didn’t Share with the World

I kept my pregnancy under the bonnet again. And only because I was so scared that if I share the news and something goes wrong facing the world will be unbearable. I know because I’ve been there already. I don’t believe in being optimistic anymore. Realistic is the way forward. “Prepare for as many options as you can. The good and the bad ones” 

 Another reason why I was quiet was because  pregnancy made me. It literally did. For the last few months I was a vegetation basket pulled to the ground with the strength of  approx 5G. My brain was mushy and I did not feel myself at all – physically, emotionally, mentally.

But now, here she is. And we are a family of 5 (including our Bastian of course).

Depressed? So What’s So Funny About It?

A few months ago I googled “funny books” because I felt a need for a laugh. I came across “Furiously Funny” and I decided to give it a go especially because it tackled depression. Having gone though it myself I thought it would be a great experience to see how the author managed to use humour through this gloomy emotional state.

And it was hilarious. I must say. I even recommended it to my friends who I knew also had gone through depression.

But then I got into a rather boycotting mode. Angry even. No, why on earth should I try to take distance to my own mental illness, find something funny in it as a sort of coping mechanism or to pretend that I am coping. 

Then I googled “funny books about depression” and all the searches showed lists of titles whose authors were mostly women (Goodreads).

We really try our best to put our best face forward, we women, aren’t we… 

I became very negative about this phenomenon. It is a problem that one laughs at their own mental disorder. What has it come to? Because it’s still so unknown, untouched, misunderstood, we try to grab any safety wheel to swim on the surface and being funny about it became a trend a sort of dilusionist gimmick that is supposed to help us survive.

Laugh is the best medicine (I realised it helps with migraines) but ridiculing your own illness is not. What’s needed is a fully fledged support mechanism, science, 

I say NO. 

What We Don’t Need in Life

Arya going out to the garden:

-Mum, I’m scared there’s a spider in the garden.

Me, after analysing the situation and concluding, pointing at a little squiggle hanging off the invisible thread stuck somewhere to a tree: This is not a spider Arya, I think, it’s a wriggly worm. 

Arya: Mum, can you take it away? I don’t need wriggly worms in my life.

Temporary Existence 

For the past few months, for a reason I can’t reveal yet I have switched myself of social media life. After a long period of constant posting, instagraming, commenting and promoting I suddenly became inexistent. My mind, in its own world, hasn’t been craving the pleasure from being seen, liked, or shared. And it felt good in a sense because I know deep down that I will return to this reality at some point soon. I will return but changed, somehow social media evolved. When you stand by as an observer you learn a lot and the point of view transforms. So let’s just wait and see how. And comment then.

However, while I existed not on the virtual platform I also disappeared from interpersonal social life. And that my readers, although fully and entirely my choice (mostly due to the reason I adore mentioned and which I can not yet mention) – has felt lonely. Loneliness that’s what I have been surrounded with. Cold, isolated, scary existence, without myself or people around. 

I truly hope this will end shortly because I can’t live without people.  

Calling Your Cat Names 

Bastian my cat is annoying early in the morning. You might say he’s cute and beautiful and whatever words you want to use for this:


But he is making me consider slitting my veins in the early hours when I’m juggling breakfast and pee pee and dressing up responsibilities to the best of my ability and this mofo stares at me from outside scratching the kitchen door only to wait on the porch and lick his fur when I let him in in haste. Once he eats his food he claws my calf asking for more and I swear to an Egyptian cat he looks like this:


Is calling a cat “dog” counts as verbal abuse?

There’s nothing to be proud of but I did tell him: “No more food for you, dog”.

He left the room and jumped on San-Jay’s bed.

Not my problem now. Phew…

I Don’t Want to Be Boring

The other day, when I had a chat with my work colleague about children she announced: “I do want to have children but not yet because I don’t want to be boring”.

I laughed with endearment and thought at th  first split of the second that I should feel offended or at least defensive. But I didn’t.

I certainly didn’t consider this an insult but this one little innocent statement definitely made me think.

Now, that I am a mother, am I boring? Am I really boring? And I can answer this with absolutely no hesitation. Yes I am. I am perceived as boring. My days of partying are over, I go to sleep at the same time as my daughter, I skip company’s drinks because I rush to my daughter, I don’t remember when I last went to the cinema with my husband, let alone friends.  What friends? I already have had a handful and now I don’t even make an effort to go for an occasional girls night out.

Socially I am dead! I also lost my mojo one could think. I would rather say on the other hand – my mojo transformed. Yes, it transformed. Now I have a mummy mojo and although there’s still a hole in my soul unfulfilled wig the things that I love and either sacrificed or lost energy to re- take up, I devote myself to my long awaited mother persona. 

And I am the least fun human on the planet at the moment but it is so worth it…

Do You Consider This Annoying? 

Is it normal to be annoyed with your husbands so much that the punishment ideas just queue in your head. And not because or when your period is coming.

My mother used to put laxatives in his dinner the next day he came home too late (and basically had more fun out than her in stuck, with two hormonal teenage girls).

I literally had to use all my self-control powers today to not wipe my husband’s mug with Arya’s soiled wipe. And not for any particular reason. Basically for the whole 10 years of annoyance.

I’m a horrible wife but I promised nothing.

Last Day in Nursery

Today was very emotional. Well, the whole week was but when you see a teacher and a driver loading toys onto a truck in front of your daughter’s first nursery you instantly burst out crying. You wonder if your child understands what’s happening,when passing corridors with walls bare without signs and posters, toys lined up on the tables as if waiting for a new owner. With her usual cheerful face, greeting her teachers, only this time throwing a bunch of flowers into the director’s hands, Arya started her last day in the Marble Arch Nursery. Because some prick priest (sorry, that’s what I feel) had to claim the space in the basement and eventually won’t the battle with the nursery director for whatever activity he wants to carry out there. 

Arya, hugging and kissing, was she aware that this was her last day?

When we entered the classroom to take a photo, Arya looked so comfortable and confident there looking at me and Sanj with the “this is my hood” spark in her eye.

Well, no more sweetheart and one only hopes that mums of your friends will let them see you from time to time after the nursery closes this evening.

So many sleepless nights – will she enjoy the new nursery? How long will the settling in last? Will she remember? 

Thank you Marble Arch Nursery for massively contributing to our daughter’s great development. For all the friendships she’s made with adults and children. 


Prayer

Thank you life for letting me be a mother. An experience which I yearned to feel since I was a little girl. An experience which I wrongly thought would be a given and journey to which turned out to be a horrible struggle. 

Every day I think of all those who haven’t been given the chance yet and I pray to you: Let them!

The unfulfilled need to be a mother is worse than hunger, sleeplessness or any other torture known on earth. 

PhD in Interior Design

For 12 years I’ve been with Sanj, he’s never (NEVER!!!) contributed to the interior design of our humble abodes. And it was good. I think I have done a pretty decent job decorating our house (as a temporary abode) although there’s still canvas left for creativity hear and there. 

And now the balance got disturbed as Sanj got bored during working hours. For a few weeks now we have been delaying the purchase of adhesive Velcro for the coasters to hang on my wall (for various reasons… because there are always more important things in life than ordering an alternative to a nail) but the idea of how I want to hang these coasters with poirtraits by Trechikoff has been there since I got them as a gift from South Africa. 

Once I see something I know how I want it to be styled. I am terrible at making from scratch but when you give me a piece I can compose it into a whole. That’s my gift. Oh and don’t forget about symmetry. That’s the essence of my philosophy just like balance. 

And there, I’m coming home after a long week at work and what I see? Velcro stuck to the wall in the most random places of the wall. 

The speech started: “The whole life Sanj hasn’t make any decisions about what should be where in our house and when the moment comes it’s irreversible unless you strip the whole wallpaper off”. 

He tried. He really tried to take these bloody stickers off but they were coming off even with the third layer of paint from the post-war time. 

So now I ended up with this symmetry-less decor which looks like fridge magnets which some globetrekker brought from the gap year around the world.


It will haunt me forever!

These Oh So Familiar Conversations with Toddler

If you’re ever near Lisbon – make sure you don’t miss Sinatra. I never knew a place like this exists, soaking in romanticism, rich history (and rich on many levels), mysticism and fairy tale spirit. 

This is however not a post about travelling. The beauty of the place is just a bonus. It’s about the conversations between a parent and a 2 (and almost) half years old child.

So – pay attention to the first part when Sanj briefs me on what he’s taking with us and what not. Can you hear that the word “milk” is pronounced in spelling rather than a “human” word. It’s because in our family Arya’s desired objects, no matter how quietly and at what times are pronounced , Our daughter will pick on and will take advantage of to such an extent that we might regret even thinking them. “Milk”, “chocolate”, “ice-cream”, “tubby” (Teletubby) have this power of being needed right after they are called upon. They therefore simply have to be spelled and we are safe until the girl learns how to read (I’m very much in Catch 22 here when answering the question: “Do I want Arya to learn to read?”).

Secondly, there’s always the aspect of making decisions. They take long but if not respected irrespective of the outcome, we are screwed.

Thirdly, there are daddy’s lectures. Painful to hear for mummy, ignored completely by the daughter.

And most importantly – “Mummy! Put the phone down”.

​​​​​​​​​​

On Bilingual Mothers who Are Not Really Bilingual

I’m Polish. Bred and raised. Yet my daughter (now almost 2.5 years old, as she says: she’s “two o’s”) wields only her own mother tongue (aka English) , except a few occasional: “kocham”, “czesc” or “dzieki”.

Since Arya’s day one, I have been feeling guilty about this fact although I consciously made a choice not to speak to her in Polish mostly out of of convenience (I don’t have Polish speakers around me to converse on a daily basis). The guilt is coming from the societal (and sociolinguistic) view on raising children in a bilingual family. I’ve heard million times: “You should speak to Arya in your language, it’s really bad you don’t”.

And for the whole list of the reasons I have learnt when studied linguistics I do know they are right. Yes, Bilingual children are smarter, geniuses and they know a second language by default.

For years now I t has been hard for me to speak Polish. I don’t speak Polish daily. My family doesn’t call me regularly for chats in my native tongue, I don’t work with Polish people, I don’t have many Polish friends who I meet often. I breathe, think and speak English (far from RP, but I still do). I have been for over 12 years now (even in the Uni before than we spoke English all the time because we studied in English). How am I supposed to suddenly switch? 

And yes the dark cloud of guilt follows me every day and I don’t need gurus on trains and occasional encounters telling me “YOU SHOULD” like I’m depriving my daughter of her basic rights. Go back to your lives and let me live with my guilt in my own world. I promise, Arya will speak Polish before I die.

 

Are You a Good Mum feeding Your Baby Good Food?

Do you feed your toddler healthily?

I’m very much into healthy eating but I think this obsession is going much too far. One thing everyone needs to understand – very often (for example in children’s case as well as pregnant women) it’s hormones who dictate and “force” us into what we choose to eat. There are children who eat a lot at some point of their lives because their growth spurt is different than those who don’t feel the need to eat so much. As long as it’s all monitored and looked at together with burning calories through healthy activities like sport, don’t eat junk food or sweets everyday, it’s all good, I think.Now let’s look at pregnant women- for goodness sake – it is so overwhelming “eat this don’t eat that” eat healthily if you care for your baby. Do these people who give this amazing advice know what craving is? My sister was throwing up whenever she even smelled any food and the only thing she could eat was toffee sweeties. Bad mother. Horrible mother!!! When I was breastfeeding the only thing I could eat was chocolate (and I am not a chocolate fan). I stopped caring for these over exaggerated warnings and instructions. Fed up

Again – life is balance

Moana

Never been a fan of Disney movies. Bambi, Lion King – parents die, Sleeping Beauty waiting for her true love sleeping prior to serving 7 other men (O.K., I know, it’s Grimm’s story originally). Yes,  I understand all of them tell beautiful stories of being strong and believing your dreams but I could always find something wrong about each of them. Well, not always wrong, but not quite right.

My first and only (up to this day) favourite one was for a long time was Princess and the Frog with its beautiful Almost There song (no, it’s not a chanting tune for during sex), very close to my heart. And now, Moana joins this short list.

Perhaps it’s a commercial grasp of the moment (as it’s usually the case) , as Christy Lemire says: “Moana would have been enormously entertaining regardless of when it came out, but its arrival at this particular moment in history gives it an added sense of significance—as well as inspiration.” but Moana takes every girl to walk with her arm in arm, with their doubts, good, gentle hearts,

She’s strong, kind and beautiful, willing to learn, loving her family, devoted to her community, doubting herself but listening to her heart which is entwined with her intelligence. She’s the woman. She’s every single woman. Ridiculed by some big muscle demi-god:

“You are gonna stay here with the other chicken.”

“Daughter of the chief.
I thought you stayed in the village.
You know, kissing babies and things.”

“If you wear a dress and have an animal sidekick, you are a princess.

And she puts up with this. And she makes him a better man.

For all of you ladies:

Moana

Beautiful and sexy can go very well together with strength, sporty, intelligent.

Shopkeeper

Arya’s playing with her dad. She’s a shopkeeper:


Sanj is a customer.

Arya: O-oh, Daddy’s coming

Sanj: Hello shopkeeper. Can I have grapes?

Arya: of course.

Sanj: Very good customer service. Can I also have some lemons.

Arya: Yes, daddy.

Sanj: How much do I pay?

Arya: Three Ows 

I guess that’s the currency in Arya’s world because I heard her using this word for money a few times.

Sanj: I’ve got 5 here in money. Give me 2 back in change.

Arya: Goodbye Daddy.

I’m giggling 

Sanj: I’m giving you 5 and I need 2 money back from you.

Arya sorting out the items on her stall: Bye Daddy

No one Around

I haven’t been writing. I’ve been tired. More emotionally and mentally than physically.

I’m tired and apart from that – almost no access to my phone or a computer apart from work and when Arya falls asleep so not really able to keep the update. I fall asleep right after her. I love my baby with all my heart and I can’t bear being away from her just for my own pleasure or leasure although I so badly need it.

I haven’t been here for a while also because otherwise I would complain or ask for her and I don’t do that. I wish I did but I don’t want to sound like a whining woman (who my husband surely thinks I am)

Arya’s the only one I’ve got. She has been since she was born but with time more and more.

I can’t bear weekends because I feel so lonely. I can’t sit down with Arya at the table with a cup of tea and chat? I can’t have a man and woman nice evening together with a man telling me that I’m still pretty and that he would like to take me somewhere nice and then follow through. I can’t even speak about it to any of my very few friends because they’ve got their lives and I’m the strong one who can always cope and my life is not that bad afterwards. In fact it’s pretty good. I finally have my perfect family…

I can’t count on my family either. And in the moments like this I want to hide my face in my hands and burst out crying spasmatically. 

Arya is my life. And I say it with tears of bliss; if not her I don’t know if I would be in flesh here and now. But I also am a woman, just a human. It’s all about balance but it never is.

Normally you don’t read posts like that in blogs which you expect to tackle only the essence of awesomeness. These are posts in those self-deprecating, pessimistic holes of the Internet. Well life is not an Instagram Profile. Definitely not mine.

I have no one. Literally no one around. 

Philosophical Conversations – Moodleys Talk

Me: I’m scared that I don’t speak to Arya in Polish because I don’t want to connect with my past me.

Sanj: I’m scared that because I don’t have any connection to my culture Arya will not have any, she will be like a floating child. That’s why I’m happy you speak to her in Polish sometimes

Me: What do you mean “floating child”.

Sanj: Speaking about floating child, wears running out of toilet paper

Finding Dory

For some reason Arya for months now has been a big fan of Nemo and Dory without even seeing a single frame of either of the animations. She has her Finding Nemo treasure book with the characters and plays with them every day.

Come Saturday, the Moodleys plan is to watch a movie together (symulatig cinema with popcorn and large Coke) while Arya sleeps. Yesterday afternoon while browsing Sky store we noticed there’s Finding Dory. BLOODY £5.45 it was for later and a crappy programme for us during the afternoon nap. 

In the evening after Arya’s dinner I put Arya next to me and Sanj put the movie on. 

The reaction was priceless. The first scene with little Dory and Arya’s face lit up. She covered her mouth with excitement like a celebrity on hearing her name at the announcement of the winner of the best actress Oscar Award. I have never seen this reaction before. She smiled every time little Dory was on and stayed tuned throughout the whole movie (another new thing in the world of our hummingbird). I watched all emotions coming out of this little soul. Happiness, worry, fear, surprise, excitement… 

It was amazing. It was amazing that our baby matures emotionally, connects with characters and feels for them. 

Milestone… this one’s huge.

Moodleys Talk

Sanj questioning the choice of sportswear of a dude on TV:

– I would be embarrassed to walk like this in the public

Me: “Well, you did wear a jumper with a hole on your elbow to work”.

Sanj: “Errr, I had to wear that jumper that day because I didn’t have anything else to wear and I did ask my colleagues to walk in front of me so that no one sees the hole”.

Mirror Mirror …

It’s been a while since I last spoke. A broken mirror cast a spellon the Moodleys house. 

My pocket mirror got stuck to the magnet of the phone cover and slid off on the pavement leaving a large crack on its surface. That happen approximately 10 days ago and on the same day I got good news – a new job. Good luck then. Since then all went well – my usual health problem kicked in which is still ongoing. At work things went pear shape leaving my managee stressed and uncertain about the future (yes, of course I feel responsible). 

And then my baby went through the second bout of cold. No symptoms of illness apart from the highest temperature she’s ever had. 

It’s been a nightmare – logistically, physically but most importantly emotionally. 5 days on and one visit to the GP and no improvement so the phase of antibiotics. 

And today… I caught it from Arya too.

Bring on more mirror mirror cracked mirror… Not!


Skin on skin to decrease temperature before nurofen kicks in.

Moodleys Talk

In a furniture store, Sanj sees this:


And says:

– what’s this? Oh it’s a safe…

Hey, you should have it and keep your phone in it so you won’t be like: “Where’s my phone”.

Silence. Sanj thinking. And then comes:

– oh no, it won’t work because if you get it you will then say: “San-Jay where is the box where I keep my phone”.

Boom.

Only Animals Lovers will Get this Post

See, Bastian is my fist baby alive.

I miscarried twice (although NHS would consider my unborn babies as insignificant foetuses) and Bastian fillled the long-hurting void. He is my first baby – he let me give him love I’ve had as a mother. I remember the day when I was with him after only a few days he had been with us and he got sick throwing up throughout the whole day – my stomach was churning, I was all in tears and scared out of my mind…

He became a man a couple of months after we moved to our first house. A lion guard, the man of the neighbourhood. People in the community speak about him as if he was the Man. But when Arya was born, very often I was being asked – “Are you not scared that your cat can hurt Arya?” Or I got warnings. ” Be careful! There are cases of cats killing newborns”.

Bastian was always cautious with my baby. When Arya was born, sleeping between me and Sanj, he slept at our feet and always so careful with his paws not to even touch her. Jealous and needing love from us but protective of her. 

Only animal lovers will understand this – Bastian is an older brother for Arya. Right now he is sleeping in her room, curled up on the carpet, guarding her. 

Don’t get me wrong if she’s bothering him, he can plonk her with his tail or scratch her (gently, never too hard – I’ve whitnessed that) as a warning. What do you expect if someone is pushing you off the chair if you cozily dozed off (that’s the only time he plonks her). Other times – he lets her have her way. Older brother, he is.

I e got two babies and I love them equally. 

Only animal lovers will get this.

Thank You

In this post – I just simply want to thank everyone who’s liked my posts. It’s nice to know that there are souls out there who enjoy what I write (even if it happens so rarely). 

Arya hasn’t had her midday nap today (just as last week) so it’s 17:30 and … I will feel it also tomorrow morning, possibly at 4am. Goodnight…

Moodleys Talk – Coffee

Me to Sanj: “Do you know what Pret calls Americano?”

– Amo?

I’m upset because recently whatever I start with “Do you know.. ” he knows all ready.

So I say: “I can’t even have a conversation with you because you know everything”

Sanj: “No, Agusia you can tell me stuff about SQL but I know about coffee because I was a coffeetician”

I can’t even (and if you know me, you know that I have a face for it). Sanj knows this face so he develops confidently: “Yes. Coffeetician. It might not be a word yet but it will catch on”.