mr wrigglebot

Sometimes I have ‘Aah, look at them days.’ Days when you have to keep stopping what you are doing to gaze at your children, when they have those moments of absolute cuteness that make you reach for the camera or more likely nudge Husband and say, ‘Aah, look at them.’

Sometimes I am just so overwhelmed by the honour of having children, of being able to learn from them and have the responsibility for them, of being able to see all of their smiles and funny moments. When times are hard I just need to remember the time I was sneaking to the kids room, sure I was going to catch Wrigglebot out of bed, only to find him giving Squirm her dummy which had fallen out of her cot. I need to remember Squirm crawling after Wrigglebot as he called her to the room to play. I need to remember Wrigglebot asking for extra food to give to Squirm. I need to remember their laughter as Squirm crawled all over Wrigglebot.

And I get to see these moments all the time, that is my privilege, I am Mummy. So if you are ever with me and I turn to you and say, ‘Aah, look at them,’ then you will know I am just feeling a little overwhelmed and blessed.

Interesting isn’t it how once upon a time routine made life so mundane. I used to wake to an alarm, shower, dress, eat breakfast, organise lunch, travel to work, take my breaks, travel home, make dinner… all the while looking forward to the weekend or holidays where schedules were non-existent.
Now, routine is what I desperately wish and hope for – especially where sleep is concerned.
For Christmas Milla gave us consecutive nights of blissful, uninterrupted slumber. Despite waking in a puddle of milk at 7am, we were sure we were on to a good thing. The warm bath, the classical music, the relaxing massage and the ‘dream feed’ at 10pm – we had finally discovered the winning formula. My husband and I woke each morning grinning from ear to ear with relief – our lives were back to normal, we were human beings again, we could have 6 children, this was easy!
Four whole nights this went on for and then came the unexpected midnight snack! Milla had decided that she was hungry at midnight, hungry at 3am and was ready to party by 5am. This also went on for four whole nights.
What went wrong? How had our system failed?
I spoke to a close friend about our forty winks dilemma. Being a mother of four she would surely know the answers that would help to put us back to that semi-habitual state.
Her words of wisdom were this: “Children thrive on routine, but the last routine they seem to learn is sleeping all night. Even then, they will most probably be teenagers and you’ll spend all your time trying to get them out of bed. Just face the fact that you probably won’t get a good night sleep for at least a decade, and you should be right.”
Hhhmmm…did I say 6 children? No, I think (if we are lucky enough), we’ll just stick to 3!
Yawn.

I had a couple of friends over the other day who each had a couple of children. I wanted to catch up and just have a good chat about what was going on in their lives. We had an excellent time together and then they left and I sat there thinking about what they had said. One was going on a holiday but to where I don’t know, another told a humourous story about their two year old climbing a fence but how he got down I still don’t know. I also had some advice I wanted so I asked my questions but I don’t think I ever got any answers. How is this so? How am I having half conversations and living in a world of fragments? Answer: Children.

e.g.

‘We’re going on holiday soon?’

‘Oh, where abouts are you going?’

Child number 1 starts eating chalk and the conversation is forgotten amidst the chaos of sticking fingers through clenched teeth to retrieve the chalk.

So this is my plan for future morning teas;

1. Speak really quickly.

2. Leave out unnecessary details.

3. Include interesting facts straight away rather than waiting for questions to elaborate on the story.

4.  Leave kids at home or if this is impossible give them lots of food to eat.

5. Email anything really important or that actually requires an answer.

Hopefully I will be able to have a full conversation one day, until then you will have to forgive me for repeatedly asking the same questions because I never hear the full reply as I have one eye on Wrigglebot and the other on Squirm and in trouble they always are.

I have been considering toilet training but each time I consider it I put it off again. Sure it isn’t going to be the most pleasant of experiences but it does need to be done. I thought I was putting it off because it was going to be an effort or because there will be messes or because Wrigglebot may not be ready but I think I have really been putting it off because it is the last hurdle of infancy.

Already I have stopped breast feeding him, holding him in the bath, making food especially for him, carrying him everywhere, putting him in a cot, feeding him by hand and nappies are the last step before I have a grown boy. No longer will he be dependant on me for any basic life skills. Now of course he will still need me but it won’t be the same. ‘Snap out of it’ you say, ‘he has to be out of nappies sometime and your life will be easier in the long run.’ Yes, I know, but sometimes I just feel myself feeling slightly nostalgic for the baby Wrigglebot who I will never see again.

Sometimes things come up which really test your love, this morning was one of those instances. I woke up with a massive bulbous blister on my nose. It was huge, it covered most of my nose and I was in shock. I am quite a vain person so to be disfigured so drastically overnight was a bit of a shock. I turned to Husband who was gawking in disbelief and said, ‘If I still look like this on Saturday I am not going to your school reunion.’ To which he did not reply, ‘It doesn’t matter what you look like I love you and want you to be there with me, ‘ or, ‘What’s wrong? You look beautiful to me.’ No he said, ‘I don’t want you to come if you look like that either.’ Love, unconditional love, what a beautiful thing.

So I went to the doctor and it turns out I have an infected nose from a scratch and it should hopefully get better now that I am on antibiotics although it does keep weeping which is a little annoying. However, back to the point, Husband failed this test miserably. I suppose though I don’t like being seen with him in his Hawaiian shirt either so I guess we are about even, bulbous nose for Hawaiian shirt.

Summer is coming and to mark the occasion Husband has pulled his beloved Hawaiian shirt out of the wardrobe. Now this is no ordinary shirt, it has powers, hypnotising powers. First let me describe it, to say this shirt is loud is an understatement, it is as if each colour has been turned up to maximum volume and together they shout unceasingly at you, oh and it also has pretty fish swimming on it.

Now let me give you an example of its power. This morning I was changing Wrigglebot’s nappy and Squirm, as she does, started crawling all over him, pulling his hair, gouging his eyes; you know the normal sisterly actions of affection. ‘Husband,’ I yelled, ‘Just get her away so I can do this.’ He proceeded to move her one metre away, she can move that distance as fast as you can blink so I was a little skeptical but Husband just stood there. Squirm looked at him, he pulled no face, didn’t talk to her yet she continued looking on and on and on, Wrigglebot joined in on the action and stared at the shirt too. It was amazing, there are some powers that you don’t believe unless you see them in action, this is one of those.

And so though I do hate the shirt and I am ashamed to be seen in public walking next to the shirt and I feel like I need my sunglasses on just to hang it on the line, if Husband isn’t home and isn’t coming home for a while and nobody else is coming around and there are no door-to-door sales people in the neighbourhood, then maybe, just maybe I might slip the shirt on and harness the power.

We have a chook in the backyard. Most times she is nice and docile, if the necessary measures have been taken. Those measures include giving her food when you enter the backyard. It is her domain and food is the price of entry that she demands. Now Husband for a long time has been skeptical of my fear of the chook when unfed and so with Wrigglebot in tow entered the backyard without food.

A moment later I heard, ‘Mama, Mama, Mama’ and ‘Chelle, do you have some scraps for the chook?.’ I got the food and went outside. Wrigglebot was crying, ‘Mama’ he said holding out his finger, ‘Chook’ and then he made a biting gesture to his finger amidst his sobs. From this I deduced that the chook had pecked his finger. And so I kissed it better and then I asked him whether it was better and he said, ‘Better’.

I guess I never fully realised all of the superpowers you were endowed with after you became a mother. The kisses that heal every childhood hurt is one such power. But remember, with great power comes great responsibility. The responsibility being a lifetime of giving out those healing kisses which only a mother can give.

Many of our friends don’t have kids, yet intend to have them when they feel the time is right. Now kids are a huge responsibility and they dramatically change your life and you need to think really carefully about whether you want them but I don’t believe the time is ever ‘right’.

There is never a good time to lose an income, there is never a good time to feel sick, there is never a good time to be fat, ugly and hormonal, to suspend a career,  to have pain, to lose sleep, to change a pooey nappy, to have interrupted meals or have to stay at home because the kids are sleeping. And yet despite all that it is awfully nice to see them smile and reach up for you, to hear them laugh and call you ‘mama’, to see them take their first steps or hear their first words, to know that they are your family, part of your imprint on the world.

Sometimes you just have to jump and realise that life is hard, but that is life and without all the difficult beginnings I doubt we would celebrate birthdays as much, I doubt we would get as much joy from a child’s laughter, I doubt we would enjoy holidays so much and I doubt we would look forward to toilet training, or rather the completion of it, so much.

After weeks like I have had I think that if there was a way to resign from motherhood I would do it. Squirm is teething, Wrigglebot is tantrumming (just made up that word meaning in the act of continually having a tantrum) and I am just trying to survive. There is no way that anybody would volunteer for the job that I have with the work conditions I have; no designated lunch break, a full 12 hour day followed by 12 hours of being on call, no weekends, public holidays or annual leave, and if that’s not enough you have to commit to the job for at least 18 years before going part-time and lets not even talk about the pay.

But, you say, what about job satisfaction? Well at the moment I’m still waiting, don’t get me wrong I like hugs and going to story time and having tea-parties but most of the time tantrums and demands are what my day consist of. Let’s take the other day for example; Squirm was asleep, it was cold so we couldn’t go outside so I thought Wrigglebot and I would have a treat and make pancakes together for lunch. That all went fine except afterwards he wanted to eat all of them all at once. I explained that he couldn’t and tantrums ensued. And I thought why do I bother? And then I thought if only I knew that he was appreciating everything I was doing then I could continue on in a better mind-frame, but I get no thankyous. I change Squirm’s nappies ten times a day and she never say, ‘I’m really glad you are doing that for me Mum.’ Nope, in fact she just tries to escape.

And so I would belatedly like to say to my Mum, ‘Thankyou.’ Thankyou for changing my nappies and taking me for walks, for pushing me on the swings and letting me watch ‘Pete the Dragon’, thankyou for dressing me and feeding me and reading to me, thankyou for tucking me into bed and for letting me snuggle into your bed when I wet mine. If I could go back in time and force my six month old lips to say thankyou I would but I can’t and so somewhat vicariously I say thankyou to you hoping that one day Wrigglebot and Squirm will say thankyou to me.

Okay, I admit it, I am not an artistic person. The extent of my drawing ability is pretty much stick figures with clothes, and sometimes the odd truck now as they are Wrigglebot’s love. Now that I have covered that I have no artistic ability I still thought, perhaps wrongly, that I would be able to impress Wrigglebot for a while longer.

Over the past few days we have been playing with playdough and he loves asking me to make a car, ‘Mama, Mama car pease’ he says, and how can I resist that? And so I fashion a car of sorts, a block with round wheels and he plays with it for about ten minutes, which I think is quite good. Well that was all fine until Daddy was asked to make a car and he ended up making a car that was so good he called me over to admire it and I said, ‘Husband, I am very proud of you, what a clever boy you are.’ So the next time I was playing with Wrigglebot and he asked me for a car, I did my best, I tried really hard and gave it to him and he just squished in his fist and then repeated ‘car pease’.  I felt like a failure, I felt like I had been exposed as a fraud but then I had a stroke of inspiration and added a siren, it made everything good and I was once again his hero.

I am getting worried though, I just don’t know how long my artistic ability can hold up for, the gap between his and mine is rapidly narrowing and I fear it wont be long before he realises that people are more than just sticks and then I will be drawing hero no longer.