Thursday, March 26, 2009

my little baby romance


I am completely in love with my baby at the moment. She is awake and learning and chatting in her 3 and a half months baby ways. After I feed her she chats away.

When Astrid was born I had expected to love her, and to look out for her, do many baby tasks, but for some reason I hadn't expected a relationship. It's delicious.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

too many people and too few


Our visitors from London (via NZ) have departed and I feel tired. Though now that Astrid and I have the house to ourselves and she is asleep I feel a little lonely and uneasy. There is a precariousbalancing act in parenting a young baby and maintaining active relationships and a social life. I crave space for myself and need time to rest and be quiet, but I also desperately need adult company. I rarely seem to get the balance quite right.

Yesterday afternoon S. and I took Astrid (with Ciaron and Rachel in tow) to the pub to see the Melbourne Ukulele Orchestra play. A riotous ridiculous band to suit our riotous table of six under three year olds and parents. Life for a moment looked as chaotic as it feels, and I felt deeply happy.

But the tiredness at the end of a weekend of socialising is a high price to pay.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

cradle c(r)aptacular

My baby is 12 weeks old. She is old enough for me to begin to think I know what I'm doing as a mum. And young enough for the thin veneer of maternal confidence to fall apart in the face of her first illness. Astrid has had a bad case of cradle cap for the past few weeks. Nothing I was doing shifted the gunk on her head. Until I used a shampoo given to me by a friend, and then all hell broke loose. She had a painful allergic reaction that led to sleepless nights, high pitched angry screaming, a trip to the doctor, and much misery for all. She is still out of sorts five days later. As Murphy's Law would have it, my partner went away overseas to a wedding during this time. To make it worse he forgot his mobile phone.

The worst thing about her illness, is that I once again feel incompetent as a mother. A) I didn't notice that her head had gone bright read and sore under her hair for a few days, b) I didn't realise that her fussing wasn't just sleep-refusal, and c) I needed help from my mother to get through it. As a woman who, until my baby was born three months ago, was self-sufficient and self-reliant, (hell pretty tough and capable actually), not coping on my own has come as a nasty shock. As has the realisation that my hard won confidence in looking after Astrid, built during the first 12 weeks of her life, is very fragile.