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

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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…

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. 


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

Screwing you Over Mums, BIG TIME

I’ve got two jobs, my husband is a management consultant, our baby is in a nursery and as much as there’s only benefits of the latter I cannot digest the thought that I pay £1500 each month for this. She’s having fun there and very much enjoying the time spent with her teachers and peers but almost each day I cry over this £1500 per month. 

£1500

Do you realise… DO YOU REALISE!!! that nurseries charge more than an average university for an MBA degree and yes, some mothers will jump on me saying that my child is the most important to me and money has no meaning when it comes to happiness of your child. Well, fuck it does because for this money I could get my daughter lots of things that inspire her, or, what would most of you say I could SAVE for her “real” education. 

You have to be realistic about the costs. Wake up and realise that the government is f***ing you like a prostitute (what? A mother shouldn’t use a language like that? Oh oh oh let me tell you something, who are people to judge?) 

Let’s see… If I pay £1500 per month she either comes out from it with a secured pension plan for me and my husband or 

she knows Chinese and AT LEAST basic programming 

or

she knows how to figure out what the next Euro millions results will be.

I cannot comprehend it – the newborns are our pension providers, mothers are some of the kegs in the economy wheel (still undervalued and underpaid but they are) and yet they fucking charge the FAMILIES for that. 

W-T-F?!!! I say?

Do you know, parents, we are being ripped off, big time. FUCKING BIG TIME (and although I’m a parent I will fucking swear here, just because I’m a human. Not a woman, not a baby… but a fucking human… who has a brain, who is believed to have a brain, as opposed to women and babies).

There I had my rant. 

And I’m actually considering moving out of this country – as a mother. #brexit to the win (short-term win)

And you know what – I know lots of women with babies who, with their families, decided to move out too.

Families, babies, women are not wanted here. 

Hm, if most of us leave who will pay for your pensioner holiday, Britain?

Things That Make a Mother of a Sick Child on Holiday Happy

Just how women have their secret menstrual cycle diary I should start Arya’s sickness cycle calendar. Hardly two weeks have passed since her last cold, just to arrive at Amsterdam with accompanying two green candles  continuously sticking out of her nose. 

And here is the list of anomalies that have made me happy while on this holiday:

– when your husband throws your baby worryingly high because the snots perfectly come out so you can wipe them out to clear your baby’s nose

– being against too hasty medicine application, on this occasion shooting Nurofen into your baby’s mouth to help her enjoy holiday

– your baby devouring fatty pizza (which you normally consider a no-no food chasing your baby with carrot and organic chicken but at this point you’re ecstatic that she’s at least eating something)

– your baby way past her bed time hoping that the next morning she would wake up at least this tiny 32 minutes later than the usual 5:58

– ZARA just around the corner, when your baby’s nappy has just leaked wetting the underwear, tights and the dress and after changing the body and covering your baby with just a jacket (not counting shoes) you perform the giant slalom stunts among the tourist crowd in order to quickly get an alternative outfit. You’re reaching ZARA with a massive “PHEW!!!” only two slow down a pace to carefully choose the right dress or trousers and top. 

– your baby still not knowing how to speak because watching a cartoon in Dutch is as perfect as in her native language. You on the other hand go beyond your intelligence levels to figure out the remote control just to find a language changing option. Thank god, the Dutch prefer the original version with subtitles. 

Any other mums and similar oddities?

 

My Love has Turned 1 Earth Years While Being With Me Eternally

Last Saturday I experienced a day I had waited my lifetime.

Arya turned 1 on 11th February and last Saturday we celebrated this milestone in Poland.

Initially, there were supposed to be around 50 guests but due to various reasons 22 adults and 11 children turned out and although those who were missing were missed the afternoon could have not been more amazing.

For the event I choose The Palace in Popowo Stare in Poland. After the naming ceremony didn’t happen due to the hated by me, family politics, all my energy and effort were focused around making sure Arya Sofia’s 1st birthday was going to be the memorable experience full of love and happiness. The palace staff prepared everything according to my strict instructions and although it’s still very hard to virtually communicate in Poland in order to get the service providers work their asses off to please the customer, this time, luckily, my perseverance and pushing (again) paid off.

My stress level was high up to a very last moment, culminating when I was pushing the soft shoes into my baby’s feet with no success and me shouting with frustration: “I can’t do it! In leaving”.

Thank God for my sister who took over while I was a total melt down.

5 minutes before the scheduled birthday there was absolutely no one in the palace and I was an utter bundle of nerves, ready to hide myself in some deep deep corner to rock myself back and fort to a complete madness.

13:00 sharp and suddenly the palace spilled with guests so Sanj and I took my beautiful but sniffly Arya outside through the back gate to ride into the front court:

  
There were many moments when I was fighting tears with emotion while looking at oblivious Arya. It was the time I waited for my entire life (those who know me, understand that it literally was a lifetime waiting) and everyone claimed they enjoyed themselves.

 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

The 12 months passed like a whip lash. But time is irrelevant when your soul knows life is constant and your body needs a physical realisation of life.

It’s one of these things I say that are hard to comprehend. Because they are beyond here and now.
To Arya Sofia

Thank you my baby for coming down into this life. I could only scold you for letting me feel this darkness without for such a long time. But now that you’re with me, nothing else matters. The scar is just a representation of how much I needed you to be near me in flesh.

I don’t wish anything for your birthday. Live your life and I want to be part of it as much as you allow me to be but please don’t be upset with me for trying to always protect you and love you.