High Needs

I have a lot to say (write/post/blog), mostly about my eldest child. I start a million blog posts a day about her. I'm just so gosh darn confused by her really I am. I first read the term "high needs baby" when she was only a few weeks old and thought how awful that was since I couldn't imagine any baby requiring more from it's caregivers than mine did and therefore "high needs" sounded like hell on earth. It took me until she was 12 months old, yes, an entire year to realise she actually was high needs. I looked at a similar aged baby one day happily cooing in it's pram and realised that there was a possibility that child was not just pretending to be happy there because it had been tortured by being left screaming in the pram until it realised it wasn't going to be picked up. A possibility that that particular baby might just maybe possibly have been naturally ok with not being constantly held. That did my head in. I honestly thought up until that moment that all non-attachment parents were baby torturers. I really did. Because that's what it would have been to M for us to parent any differently.
The thing is, before I had that realisation I also had a niggling little thought hidden deep within that I was somehow failing at motherhood. That because I found my baby so hard that I was somehow lacking.
What I've realised in the last week is that although they've changed a lot at the age of not-quite-five-years, those high needs haven't gone away like I thought they had. No, they haven't gone anywhere at all. That niggling little shameful thought though, it's come back with a vengeance. Go away little thought! I am not failing because our days are hard sometimes. I am not failing because I'm not a perfect unschooler nor am I failing because I'm not a perfect Waldorf mother or a rigorous classical homeschooler. I am also not failing because I sometimes contemplate trying to fit those or any other labels, sometimes think a formula would make it easier.
She is hard work. I am hard work. Life is hard work. That's ok.

India?

That's all.

Deprived of childcare

Apparently my children are. This is the creche at the sports centre which also houses "Kids Kingdom" (cheesy play centre). There are little cars to ride in, huge slides, tunnels and trampolines but what are my children fascinated with? The mini-prison...

Adjusting to life with one less computer and more

I've already mentioned the demise of my dearly beloved laptop. She is much mourned by M as the last remaining source of dvd viewing pleasure (the drive in P's laptop having been worn out from over-use in the months following A's birth). That means we compete to get our screentime fix from the itty-bitty HP Mini thingy. Which really means that M gets her fix (of youtube or reading eggs usually) while I'm cleaning or cooking or putting A to bed and I get mine late at night when she is finally asleep and he wakes for more milk & sleeps on my lap while I read or right now, blog.
P has quit or is in the process of quitting his main client. Which is, I must say, the best news I've heard in a long time. The house feels different already. The children are enjoying having two parents instead of one and a bit and I am enjoying less cooking (as well as the conversation). No doubt it will bring us a little closer to the (financial) edge than we have been used to for the past few years but it's nowhere we haven't been before and the benefits abound :)

Foster Care

Am I crazy? Fostering is something I've always wanted to do. My previous partner and I went through the application process, were approved and about to start training courses when we moved interstate. Since then I've either been concentrating on music or breeding small ones of my own. However last week I saw an ad (a rather desperate ad actually) in an op-shop and it's been eating away at me since then. Could we do it? Could our littlies handle it?
Questions questions questions

Photo-free

There's lots to share but I find it so much easier to have a photo or two to start the flow of words. Unfortunately the black hole in our house seems to have swallowed the camera battery charger. Then of course there's the whole ongoing mobile phone saga too, so not even any mobile photos to share. Sigh. Oh well.
In case you were interested - child the larger is currently covering the loungeroom with an elaborate wooden train set construction. Including a road next to the train tracks like the GWH here in the mountains.
The small one just fell asleep in the "other" meitai.
Grass-fed beef with black bean and red wine (and lots of garlic for our colds) stew is in the oven. Two loaves of sourdough were removed from said oven (not by me) shortly before the stew went in. Cottage cheese is draining (again not my work) and we are planning on going to Juggling Jam tonight.

The one year ago right now post

One year ago right now the fire in my loungeroom was blazing, hotter than before or since.
One year ago right now I knelt on blankets and mattresses in front of the blazing fire holding my tiny son.
One year ago right now I felt the wave begin to crash over me and handed my son to his father so I could concentrate on the contraction that would finally help his placenta be born.
One year ago my loungeroom was full of blood and towels and blankets and water and hot hot hot fire and precious people and love, so much love.
The mess is gone, the people are sleeping and the fire just barely sputtering but the love is still here.

No pot roast

Well, at least not yesterday. It's in the oven today. Somehow I doubt A's fever was teeth related since he came out in an awful rash. We thought it might be chicken pox but to me it looks more like excema. Sigh, who knows. We haven't been off to the doc because (apart from that one hour of fever on Monday night) he has been perfectly happy and hasn't seemed sick at all.
Of course, along with a sick baby what do I always get? Mastitis. Ugh! Yesterday I was feverish and out of it all day. Hence no pot roast. I think I did well just keep the fire going and give M some pasta for dinner. Today is better but still sore and low on energy.

A special guest

A great-auntie who is truly a great Auntie. Much loved all round.