A mothers' guilt

Becoming a mother brings with it an immense amount of guilt. We feel guilty if we work because we aren't at home with our kids. We feel guilty if we stay home.We feel guilty about indulging our kids; or guilty about not giving them as much as the kids next door. Guilty of being too hard on them; guilty of being too soft. Guilty because I let him eat chicken nuggets, again.

By far the biggest contributor to the guilt I feel though is related to the world I have brought my children into. I never considered myself a "greenie". I've always preferred save money and avoid consumption for consumption's sake, but I definitely live in my own little middle-income, white collar, first world bubble. I was careful with the consumption of electricity, fuel, food and shopping from a cost point of view. I am content to live in a small house and buy 2nd hand toys for my kids because it saves me money that I can use for other things like shows and holidays and the mortgage. However, until recently I didn't really stop to think about how my actions impacted anyone else, and certainly not future generations. I wasn't wilfully destructive, but perhaps blissfully ignorant? 

Becoming a mother though, suddenly thrusts upon you an undeniable link with future generations. 

Suddenly, it isn't just about you and generations past. As I stare into my baby's eyes as he looks up at me while feeding, or as I watch my 3 year old build an aeroplane from Duplo, it's impossible not to wonder what his future holds. And therein lies the guilt.

In the face of climate change, over consumption, peak oil, food security issues, worsening natural disasters, more people and fewer jobs, I sometimes feel guilty for even having brought children into this world. What am I asking of them? What kind of world am I leaving them? What is the breaking point for the world's population and am I guilty for contributing to it's growth? Big issues. No answers.

I feel guilty that my children may have to make the decision not to have children for the sake of the planet; or worse, may have that decision taken from them. I feel guilty that that may have to fight for food, security, land, safety. Even if you don't believe in climate change, surely it must be accepted that a planet with finite resources cannot indefinitely sustain an exponential number of people all seeking a better standard of living? 

I feel guilty that I'm not doing enough to help. Sure I've switched to green power, am reducing plastic use and waste, trying to buy more 2nd hand than new and eating less meat, I'm blogging about our changes. But then there are the failures and the things I can't do yet because of where we live.

It just took me 5 days to get cloth nappies dry because of the rain. It's just not practical for me to use them full time in this weather. Buying a dryer to dry them seems to be counter-intuitive. Guilty.

I threw out the vege scraps this week because the worm farm is overloaded and the freezer is full. Guilty.

Forgot to use a piece of chicken and it got lost at the back of the fridge and is now bad. A rare occurrence here but still; guilty.

There are others doing so much more! Guilty.

There are so many more changes I want to make, and still other changes I could make that I'm sure I'm not even aware of yet. I am constrained by cost and time and a lack of skills and space. I want to relearn skills that our fore-mothers knew. But I have to balance that with the reality of living in the 21st century in a large city where it takes 2 incomes just to make ends meet and 2 small children under my feet demanding attention. 

So although we are not perfect and we have a long way to go, all we can do is keep learning, trying, moving in the right direction, sharing the message and raising resilient, informed kids. Living with the hope that with knowledge, each generation will make better decisions than the last. 

An apology to my second born child

Last week I took a bath with my 8 month old son, Lockster (not his real name). He usually adores the bath but the whole of last week he was losing it every single night. It didn't matter if The Chippy (hubby) bathed him, if I bathed him, if my mum who was visiting one night bathed him. It didn't matter if we bathed him with or without his brother. Earlier, later. More water, less water. More toys. Nothing seemed to help.

By Friday night his hair was getting stinky from not having more than a 35 second bath for a week.

I popped him in his little bath seat. He proceeded to scream blue murder.

Since his older brother was still (yes, still...) eating his dinner and watching "Go Jetters" and The Chippy was home to watch him, I decided to jump in the bath with the baby.

It was only then I realised this was the first time he'd had a bath with mum or dad in his little life. He's been bathed with his brother pretty much since birth because it was easier to kill 2 birds with one stone.

When his older brother was a baby, and evenings were not quite such a chaotic rush, sharing a bath with mum or dad was a regular indulgence.

Not so for my second born. Instead of the leisurely bath time my eldest enjoyed, my youngest is whizzed through the production line of dinner, bath, boob and bed with precision timing. He has to compete with his older brother dawdling through his dinner, while I yell at him from the bathroom to hurry up and finish and get in the bath so I can get them both out and dressed before the baby is yelling for his milk.

So, on Friday night Lockster and I enjoyed a leisurely 20 minute soak. We played with the toys, cuddled and splashed and he was happy again. He has been happy in the bath every night since and I remembered what a great bonding experience it is.

It got me thinking though about the other things the second born misses out on. So for the following Lockster, I am sorry:

• The lack of one-on-one time: We get 2 days alone, just you and I when your brother is at preschool. Unfortunately those 2 days are also my best bet at getting all the housework, cooking and grocery shopping done that I can't get done with 2 kids under my feet. I rarely get a chance to sit still and just be with you outside of feed times.
• Books: I'm sorry. I don't read you nearly as many books as I read your brother. Our days are rushed and I've read them all 1000 times before. Don't feel alone in your neglect though. I have a pile of books next to my bed waiting to be read. Fancy choosing something off mummy's reading list instead? 
• Kids music: Frankly, I didn't really enjoy listening to nursery rhymes and The Wiggles the first time around. You're getting Fleetwood Mac, T-Rex and the Rolling Stones kiddo. You can thank me when you're 17 and you finally realise the old stuff is way better than the new stuff. 
• Long walks in the pram. Or really any walks in the pram. This one is a safety issued. To be honest, I can't handle your brother running 100 miles an hour in front of us, I'm scared he'll get hit crossing a driveway.
• Trips to the park that involve simply laying on a picnic rug and watching the world go by. This used to be my afternoon ritual when your brother was a baby. Now these trips are spent yelling at your brother to come back, wait his turn and put the stick (aka small log) down.
• Baby rhyme time: Ain't nobody got time for that 2nd time round. You think your brother is going to sit still? You're dreaming. 

So I am sorry, you get less of me. I have to share. I am more tired and my fuse is shorter now. But know this, my darling boy; I made all my mistakes with your older brother.

The introverted mum

I am in introvert. I find being around people, even those I adore, tiring. Crowds and people I don't know? I come home exhausted. I need a cup of tea after an hour in the supermarket. Too much noise and I can't think straight (yes, I have 2 boys, that's going work out nicely...)

I'm not a hermit, but I need space, quiet and time alone to recharge my batteries and re-energise myself. Without this down time I am cranky, short-tempered and drained.

Pre-kids I could quite happily spend the bulk of the weekend hanging out at home. Cooking; reading or crafting. I even found the Saturday morning ritual of cleaning the house relaxing; I remember when The Chippy (hubby) and I could get the whole house cleaned in an hour... Now I spend the bulk of my waking hours tidying this tiny house.

I know a lot of mums who miss their social life after having kids. For me, letting go of that was the easy part. In fact, having kids was quite possibly a blessing in disguise; they are the ultimate 'get out of any social occasion' card.

My body? I was pretty ok with giving that over to another human being(s) for a good couple of years too. It wasn't in the best shape to start with.

But one of the things I was least prepared for about motherhood was the complete and utter lack of alone time.

I am pretty much never alone; from the minute I wake up; usually with someones hand in my face, until my kids go to sleep. Most nights, an extra human or 2 end up in our bed. I can't even pee alone. I fantasise about checking into a hotel just to take an uninterrupted shower. I am beyond 'touched out'.

With one kid, this was just bearable. I got my down time, albeit in 40 minute increments, when he napped. That 40 minutes was just enough to tide me over until the next sleep time. When I went back to work I could zone out on the train for an hour each day with a book or a blog.

Now on maternity leave with 2 kids at home, one of whom no longer naps, there is generally always someone in my face. Annoyingly, the  3-year old has decided it is fun to literally be in my face tickling my cheeks at every opportunity. I'm not proud of the way I react to that. After 8 months of basically no alone time, my fuse is short.

The Chippy (hubby) works 5-6 days a week, is gone before we wake up most days, plays sport on Saturday afternoon and has training one night a week. That leaves Sundays. We try to keep these free for "family day" but in reality it's usually spent tag teaming the kids while we each get all the jobs done that we couldn't do during the week with the kids around.

The Chippy is also my opposite and an extrovert so while he tries to sympathise, he can never truly understand.

In fairness he does occasionally tell me, politely, to get out of the house alone for while. But I am a homebody. My hobbies are home-based. I don't want to get out of the house. I want to sit on my comfortable, once-was duck-egg & cream lounge with a cup of tea, a book and some craft and enjoy the sound of silence. Until I remember I miss them, and their noise.