baby update: 9 more days, a freak out + a confession
Today I have 9 days until my due date. I am excited to meet this little miss, of course. And completely terrified. I'm not afraid to admit it. HOW the heck will I ever leave the house again? I can barely get it together in the mornings now as it is - my kids are USELESS at getting ready for school. Or following instructions. Or listening to anything I say. My house is still half a construction zone with new walls needing sanding, priming and painting, floors refinished and little bits and pieces still not 100% completed. I lost it the other week - it was all just too much. Steve got home from work and I just crumbled in a heap on the bed. For the second time that day. Immy had told me earlier I wasn't allowed to cry, cause I was the mum and only babies cried. Steve was a little more sympathetic and just waited patiently till I finished ranting incoherently and made it all better with hugs and by saying the right thing - I sometimes forget he IS a media manager and knows how to spin things if the need arises. But it worked. 
Still. I'm at that doubting stage - what if things go wrong with the delivery? What if there is something wrong with the baby? With me? How will I cope at home with a newborn and three other demanding children? How will I get everyone dressed and out the door in time for school? How will I survive on such little sleep? What if I have a crap recovery and therefore everything above is just made 100 times worse? What if I get post-natal depression? What if I become even more disorganised and forgetful and impatient than I already am? What if it gets too cramped here in our small house? What if four children just doesn't work? WHAT IF? I hate this stage. My philosophy for pregnancies and birth is pretty much whatever happens, happens. There is no plan (except I am terrified of having an epidural - the thought of a needle in my spine is scarier than pushing out a human, so that's off the cards unless absolutely necessary, in which case it's not about me anyway), no expectations and no major requirements or needs. I'm pretty cruisey. Except when those annoying negative thoughts creep into my mind and freak me out. And here they are, in the last few weeks, right on cue...
I'm sure it will all work out and things will just eventually fit into place and life will go on as though I've always had four children and absolutely no patience, time or energy. And all will be fun and fine, though nuts at times. Just like it is now. But now isn't always great. I yell. A lot. I have no patience when Zak loses his hat for the 3rd time in two weeks or waits until I start to close the door before he realises he hasn't got his shoes on or didn't brush his teeth. Or when Layla looks at me when I tell her to get dressed for the 342nd time that morning and then just continues playing with... whatever is nearest to her. I want to put a leash on Immy when she runs up and down the verandah at the school before the bell rings knowing I can't chase her. And the toilet training - oh my god the toilet training. I get so annoyed it is taking her so long to get the with poos-in-toilet-not-the-pants-program. I hate myself when I swear in frustration because Zak has broken the phone charger because he snuck into my room to "charge and play" my phone when I told him he couldn't and sat there for ages with it bent. Or when they tell me in the car they forgot their drink bottle or need money for something and I of course never have any money on me. I feel exhausted at pick-up time when they throw their bags at me and demand this friend come over or they go over there or they want this toy or moan because I walked the 500m to the school rather than drove and feel like the worst mum ever because I dared to say "no". I want to scream at the parents who spoil their kids with the latest EVERYTHING or anything because they make my life so much harder. I hate all the "but so-and-so has this. And so-and-so has that." It all gets a bit much and I just want to curl up on the couch and do nothing, but then of course there are mouths that constantly need feeding, balls games that require watching or participating in, fights that need breaking up and homework that needs doing (and occasional bribes that need to be made in order for this to be done). It's all quite exhausting really. So some days, aside from the feeding (more just to shut them up), I don't do any of it. And I let them sit in front of the TV. And then the guilt sets in and I feel even worse.
And then there are all the good things that counteract it all - the
knowledge Zak and his friend invited Layla to the library with them at
lunch time and helped her do a find-a-word. The sweet way they chat when
they walk into the schoolyard or when Zak asks if she had a good day.
The adorable way Layla takes Immy under her wing and helps her with
shoes or pants or encourages her to "use the toilet like a big girl".
The way Zak changes the rules of his soccer game so Immy can play with
him and the way he belly laughs when she attempts to tackle him or steal
the ball. And those most heavenly moments when they all play together soooo sweetly for an hour or so. Even one bit of niceness makes up for the crappy parts of the
day. Thank goodness!
So why am I being all so mopey
and confessional? Because recently I've felt fraudish when all my lovely
followers on social media or the blog say the sweetest things about my
renovating/decorating/craft/baking/projects/whatever, like "I
don't know how you do it all." "Where do you find the time and energy?"
and crazy things like "You make me feel bad that I don't do this or
that" "you're superwoman" or "supermum", but the truth is, I'm not any
of those things and I HATE the thought that I make someone feel bad
because I baked cookies from scratch for the kids to take to school on
Valentine's Day and they didn't do anything. That is NEVER my intention.
Basically, I just like to record life - good and bad, though I guess
most of the time it's good. Cause really, who wants to see Immy throw a
tantrum? (Although sometimes they are kind of amusing). I don't do it to
compete, I don't do it to show off, I most certainly don't do anything
to make people feel bad. I just like seeing what other people are up to
and want to create visual memories of our family life too. I do it because I want to - I enjoy it and I want my kids to have fun
memories. I want my house to (eventually!!) look nice. And I like making the little things a tiny bit more special - pretty
parties, craft days and learning to bake (oh so messily). But just FYI, it doesn't always come super-easy or calmy or beautifully. Going the extra mile can all
take its toll and I can lose my sh*t for stupid reasons. I take on too
many things at once and do everything wrong in
pregnancy. I paint. I sand floors. I move furniture and lift things. I
eat the wrong things. I don't drink enough water. My iron is terribly
low all the time. I know these things when I do them and I STILL DO
THEM. And then I get all yelly and annoyed and frustrated. And I worry
my kids will remember THOSE moments and not the nice ones I try so hard to
record. And just for the sake of it - because I often wonder myself about the behind-of-scenes of picture-perfect lives on Instagram - I wanted you to know that... even if it reads all over the place and makes no sense in parts! Because if there is one thing I try to do here, it's to show a little reality too...
{Images are all by me but have been through the Waterlogue app on the iPhone. It's slightly addictive! I want to take some really beautiful portraits of the kids and have them watercoloured and blown up and printed out for my gallery wall}