Second time's the charm.

Okay, calm down, calm down everyone, I know you're all excited to hear from me after so long, but let's maintain order, orright? You there, stop screeching...  that's better. And you lot - stop letting off those fireworks, you hear? It's just little old me, no need to get so excited... jeesh!!!

Okay, we all good? Back in your seats? Okay then...

So as you might have noticed, I have indeed been absent from this blog for a couple of weeks. Stupid irritating little things have been interrupting me and keeping me away - things like trying to find a job, keeping our house running on a shoestring budget, yada, yada, yada....

You may remember when my last job hit a surprise ending and knocked me for six. One of the upshots of that was telling GG I would be spending the next while hanging out with her and watching her little face absolutely light up as she threw herself into me and gave me such a fierce hug I thought she might burst! Since I had been working full-time, I noticed that she had become quite clingy, always (literally) hanging off me when we were home, and not even wanting to stay over at her cousins house - usually a favourite treat. She had also become quite whiny, but that could also have just been a "Hey, I'm three and this is how we three year olds roll" kinda thing...

So fast forward a few weeks, over 40 job applications, seven new grey hairs and a partridge in a pear tree, I find a job. It's a contract for a few months to cover a girl's maternity leave, though it may turn into something more...

It's also full time.

Yep, after the last job eff-up, and then having to turn down a full time job I was offered because the travel time meant I would have to be dropping GG off in the morning before she'd gone to bed the night before (cold meds may lead to slight exaggerations), I had decided to pursue only part-time jobs. Thing is part-time jobs are like hen's teeth, and there are approximately eleventy billion trillion women all wanting to work part-time.

So necessity over-rides good intentions yet again.

I have just finished my first week, and yeah, yeah the job is fine and all that, but more importantly, so it seems is GG!

Me being me, I had worked myself into a lather over the harm I would be inflicting on my poor, innocent child. Me and my selfish materialistic need to pay the bills would mean she would be flung back into a world of abandonment, clinginess, insecurity and wanting to stay up all night just to have my attention. Okay, okay, so my reservations may not have been entirely unselfish concern for my child.

Instead, GG did what she specialises in doing, she surprised me.

When I told GG that I would be going back to work, she was entirely non-fussed. When I prompted her about how she felt about it, she simply replied that, "Well I will still see you ebrey night, right?". I have been

spending the week on tenterhooks, waiting to some sign of her backsliding and... nothin'... she's fine. She's happy, independent, even at the kindy drop off which she's sometimes a bit teary at, she just charges up to the window that overlooks the car park so she can wave goodbye. She has even planned a sleepover for next week!

Maybe those horrible weeks of the first job were just her getting adjusted? Maybe the fact I finish earlier and am picking her up by 5pm and we get that little extra time together makes the difference? Either way, life is good right now and I refuse to sit around looking over my shoulder waiting for "something bad" to happen like I have been lately whenever life is good.  I'm just gonna enjoy it. And maybe send some wishes out to the Universe that the girl I'm replacing only wants to come back part-time and we can job share.

Not too much to ask, is it?

The Universe's Plaything

It seems once more I find myself caught in a plot twist in the cosmic sit-com I'm sure my life actually is.

The contract I had with Centrelink that I had to guarantee I would be available for to see out the entirety of? Til October? Gone.

Yep, on Wednesday we were all (20 odd temps in 2 teams) called into a meeting and told that due to operational requirements we would all no longer be required as of close of business the next day.

Talk about stunned.

Some people got upset. A few cried. Some people got angry. A few people walked out.

Me? I went and got back on the phones. I needed the money.

By the time I got home Hubby had gotten over being angry on my behalf and was actually quite Zen about the whole thing. Sure, financially we were screwed, but hey, as a family we weren't coping so well with me working full time, so maybe this was for the best. Hubby has a tendency to focus on the negatives of a situation, so you can imagine how proud of him I was, and how supported I felt. You can also probably imagine the reward it got him. (Hey, we were too stressed out to sleep anyway...)

So I spent Thursday night doing the job search hokey-pokey and made plans to spend today with GG, catching up with some friends and their kids I haven't seen for ages. We decided to focus on part-time roles, as that's really is what's best for our family. I talked myself back into a state of positivity and convinced myself this was all for the best, something would work out.

Then, this morning I got a call from the agency that placed me at Centrelink offering me a 4 week contract. Cue immediate relief.

A 4 week contract a mere 2 hours travel away. Would take 2 hours by train or even if I drove. That's 2 hours each way. Cue terror.

Thing is, I can't afford (literally) to be picky. I need to be working right now. And there are just no jobs available on the Coast. Even though it means catching the train at 6.30 in the morning and not getting home til 7pm. Sigh. I took the job.

Then I panicked at 5 minutes to 5.00pm and nearly pulled out. Then I convinced myself it'd be okay. Then I panicked again and convinced myself GG would hate it, I was a horrible Mum. Then I went a little nuts. Then I called my husband.

He talked me down off my little ledge, reminded me that we had already talked this through, re-assured me he would re-arrange his days so that he could drop GG off on her kindy days as well as pick her up.

In the end, we decided that I would do it for a week. The agency rep is doing a site visit Thursday, and if I'm finding it too much, I will let her know then, so she has 2 days to find my replacement. That seems fair. I can do one week at least, even if it is Hell on Earth, I can do one crappy week for the good of my family.

So I enjoyed every minute of my day with GG today, and will continue to over the weekend. This afternoon, while she rode her bike at the park with me walking beside her, I bought up the topic:

"GG, you know how Mummy has been working a lot the last few weeks?"

"Uh-huh. Hey! Look! A puppy!"

"Yeah, lots of puppies here, it's a dog park remember? He's a cutie isn't he?"

"Yep. Cute."

"Yeah, anyway, so you know how Mummy has been going to work?"

"Uh-huh. Oh! Look! Another puppy!!"

I'm gunna fast forward a little here...

"Do you miss Mummy when she goes to work?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"Yeah, I miss you sometimes too. Well, for the next few weeks, I'm going to be working even more, but only for a very little while. You'll still see me every night, and of course weekends, but you might have dinner at Grandmas before Mummy gets you sometimes."

"Oh."

"But remember, it'll only be for a little while. And we'll still see each other every night."

"Oh. I still see you ebry night?"

"Yep, every night. And don't forget the weekends. And, after that little while, Mummy is going to take a whole week off, and we'll do heaps of stuff together! What do you think?"

GG turned to look at me, her little face incredibly thoughtful, and unless I'm deluding myself, very wise.

"Oh-tay. Oh look!!! A puppy!!!"

Workin' 9 to 5... and then some!

Oh man! This week has been FULL ON!!

I started my full time job on Monday, which will be in a call centre for a Government department, and the training has been... umm, intense. We are not only receiving training in the computer system, but the appropriate programs, benefits, eligibility, rates, thresholds and legislation that apply. Plus, I've never worked in a call centre before, so I am getting my head around the computerised phone systems, workflows, scripts etc. My brain is f.r.i.e.d. Plus I am pretty daunted by the fact that tomorrow afternoon I will be finished training and out there on the phones! Eeek! People, calling, and expecting someone who knows the answers!

I'd love to tell some funny and entertaining stories about the people in my training group and the stories we have been told as dire warnings about why not to do a certain thing, but to be honest, I am so tired and have so much still to do, it's all I can do to just check in with you guys. I have some stuff planned for the weekend though, hang in there!

I don't know how Mums work full time without help, I really don't. GG goes to kindy twice a week, and my Mum has risen graciously to the occasion and looked after her the other three days. As of next week, my Aunt will look after her Tuesdays. Without them, and their valuable help, not only would it hardly be worth me working after the cost of child care, I don't think I would like GG in kindy for a full five days; I feel much better about her getting one-on-one, loving attention from a family member she knows and loves, plus who knows and respects how I raise her.

My husband works a full time day job with big hours, plus a night job two nights a week and Saturdays, so I don't ask him to help out at home at all, though he likes to give GG her bath to help me out, and of course he can play with her while I'm cleaning up after dinner etc., which makes life easier.

Of course, I am still having to cook dinners (except for when Mum gives it to me like tonight, thanks Mum!!), do dishes, laundry (and of course it's rained all week), ironing, prepare lunches and make sure the poor dog, who has been cooped up inside all day because it's been raining, gets walked and has a chance to run in the park. At the moment, I drive straight home from work, pick up the dog, drive him to the park, let him have a quick ten minute run around while I review my training from the day, get back in the car, go pick up GG, come home, spend some time re-connecting with GG, then get her settled and off to bed (easier said than done, for the last few months we've been back to letting her fall asleep on the couch), then try and get some housework done.

Aside from all this, I have been dealing with helping GG deal with now having a Mum who works full time. She has done really well actually, I explained to her earlier on Monday that as well as going to kindy and playing with her friends like normal, for the next little while, her Grandma and Aunty were going to be looking after her a lot more than usual, but we would still be having dinner together all the time like usual, and have time to play in the evening. She took that in pretty well, though this morning when she woke up to find me getting ready for work, she did ask, with a sad little face, "Mummy, are you going to work again today?"

I replied that yes, I was, but Grandma was going to take her to coffee this morning (we usually attended this regular Thursday morning coffee group of Mum's friends together) and then she would get to go to the shops. Then I reminded her that it was only a couple of days til the weekend, and distracted her by getting her to think up some fun things for us to do together then.

This worked reasonably well, but didn't stop me feeling guilty about spending so muhc time away from GG. She's a pretty obliging kid, but she's definitely a Mummy's girl, and I hope she continues to deal so well with me being away, and doesn't get upset when she realises it will be this way fro quite a while (4 months). I feel guilty giving GG this extra thing to deal with, but I must admit I feel so much relief that I will be earning really good money for a while, which will let us catch up financially and is desperately needed.

Geez, I hope this gets easier!!

Panic Stations!

So it seems I have found myself a job. Well, really, it found me. I went along to an employment agency (actually one I used to work for when I was a recruiter!) for one job; a temp admin officer role for my local City Council and ended up with a whole 'nother job! Turns out just before I turned up for the interview, they had gotten a role in that nicely combines my training credentials (that I've barely used) with my knowledge of bookkeeping software (that I haven't used for years. Ahem).

So now I'm panicking on two fronts, possibly three. Actually, more like four.

One, I'm not totally convinced I'm up for the job. Sure, I will be given a crash-course in the software, and I do have the theoretical knowledge of how to train, but still. Eeek! I am trying to remind myself that I do best when given a challenge I need to live up to, and having faith that my brain and ability to take advantage of other people's skills adapt quickly will see me through.

Two, it's a full time job. The first I've had since having GG. This is what really scares me. Yes, I know she's three now, and it's not like she's a tiny baby anymore, but I am really worried about how this will affect us. I know I will miss the time away from her, and I know I am lucky that instead of having to put her in kindy full-time (thus negating it even being worth working anyway), I have a great family who are willing to look after my little Gorgeous Girl, and so I am slightly reassured that she will still have that loving, one-on-one care that young kids need.

But I'm still going to be basically giving up being the main person responsible for caring for her, day to day. Up til now, even though she has been going to kindy two days a week since she was about a year old (three days for a while there when I was living in Brisbane and working part-time), I have been the person responsible for those little ways we all have, the little rituals and sayings and ways that become our memories of our childhoods. I have been the one to teach her and encourage her, read to her, all those things. I have been the one to set the limits of how I would like her to act, and to reinforce those, now I'm giving up control of that, and relying on others to shape her behaviour.

Having just re-read this, I'm aware of how melodramatic I am being, and how I am over-reacting, but it's how I feel right now, like I'm about to give up a big part of being a Mum.

The good part is I guess, is that I am the one who will suffer the most being away from GG. She herself will be going to play with her kindy friends like always, and hanging out the other days with some of her favourite people, no doubt being spoiled and indulged.

The saving grace of all this (apart from the much needed financial boost of course!) is that it's a contract role. We're still hashing out the details of how long for etc., and it's true I am hoping it will convert into a permanent role, but I will probably try to negotiate a part-time role moving forward, once the money earned by working full-time has helped us catch up.

So the third reason I'm panicking? It's nearly an hour's drive away. This means not only am I away from GG every weekday, but for a significant length of time each day.

Four, what the hell will I wear?

My Smug/Crap List

Having just about finished reading Mia Freedman's book, Mama Mia (and having very little on my mind for once that's blog-worthy), I have decided to directly steal an idea from her. I'm sure she won't mind, as she says (about the magazine and TV industry): 'There are no new ideas, only recycled ones'.

The concept of the Smug List and Crap list is that every mother has an internal list in her head, where she judges herself on what she feels she has done well as a mother, and what she feels guilty about.

I was so impressed with Mia's honesty throughout her book, but especially in regards to this. It's really our most vunerable self, admitting what we feel we have failed at within motherhood. I wish more women would be brave enough to admit they feel insecure, and maybe even guilty, over certain aspects of their parenting, instead of engaging in Competitive Mothering and trying to out-do each other with their perfect babies who only eat organic, home-made meals, sleep all night and have learned baby-signing by 3 weeks of age. We should be REAL, talk about the things we are having trouble with, and instead of feeling shamed or inadequate, be supported and encouraged within the tribe.

So in the spirit of bravery and sharing Mia has inspired, here is my Smug / Crap List.

I feel Smug about... you know, I don't like the word smug, I'm going to call it Proud... I feel Proud that:

• I am an engaged Mum, often found sitting on floor, deeply entrenched in whatever game GG and I have cooked up.
  
• GG has lovely manners, is bright, funny, cheeky, charming and happy (mostly). I'm choosing to take credit for this.
  
• I breastfed GG for 10 months, through inverted nipples, intense pain, cracked and bleeding nipples the whole 10 months and 3 bouts of mastitis.
  
• I home-made GG's food with organic vegies for the first year of her life. She still has mainly home-made, nutritious food, with the occasional McDonalds fries or sweet treat to keep life interesting.
  
• I am imaginative and playful, making up silly songs, stories and games to play with GG (or get her to brush her teeth).
  
• We moved back to the Gold Coast mainly for GG, so she could grow up in a big, close, loving family, with lots of access to her grandparents, aunts and cousins. The fact that we love it here is a bonus.
  
• GG is very helpful, something I have developed and encouraged, even though it meant taking 45 mins to empty a dishwasher, endless re-folding of laundry GG has 'helped' me put away and entire mornings spent hanging out one load of laundry. It's paying off nicely now though :o)
  
• I am patient (mostly)(with GG, not other members of humanity), and it actually takes a fair bit for me to get cranky or yell at GG.
  
• I have encouraged GG to have a love of reading and books, like every woman in my family.

I feel Crap that:

• I allowed myself to be scared into a caesarian I now think I probably didn't need. I still feel like I never really 'earned my stripes' by having a 'proper labour'. Actually, I've never experienced labour and I feel like I've missed out on something.
  
• Despite several attempts and short-lived successes, GG is a terrible sleeper, and she has taken to coming into our bed again, and I am too tired and disheartened to stop her.
  
• Despite promising when I started blogging that I would only do it when GG was asleep, I now blog when she is awake and we could be playing together. I actually keep an old laptop under the TV cabinet for GG to play on, whilst I play on my computer.
  
• I wish I listened to my instinct more and refused to believe that GG's screaming as a baby was 'just colic', even when the Doctors told me so. I feel bad that she was 6 months old when she was finally diagnosed with a wheat intolerance, all that pain needlessly inflicted on her.
  
• There are days when GG has had cereal for dinner.
  
• I (like Mia) actually like that GG has a tan. I think she looks so cute and outdoorsy and Aussie with it. Others will point out the potential skin damage.
  
• I pretty much constantly have the TV on in the background. GG doesn't watch a whole lot now, but I'm betting she'll be a TV addict too when she grows up.
  
• Even though I know she has an awesome time, and is gaining great knowledge there, I still feel awful whenever GG cries when I leave her at kindy.
  

So there you have it folks, my innermost feelings about my most important job. I would love for any other Mums to share something they are especially proud of (or a bit guilty about), but there are rules for any commenters - NO JUDGING!!!

Bad Mummy Diaries - Part 1*

Today has been one of those days where the Stepford Wife in me took too much Xanax and passed out in the tub. I just haven't been able to muster up any concern for the state of my floors, the ever-growing laundry pile or the fact the people who live here might expect to be fed occasionally.

Part of it has to do with the fact I started reading Jen Lancaster's book, Bright Lights, Big Ass, and just couldn't stop. It's seriously funny, cuttingly honest and appallingly addictive.

Seriously, it's totally not my fault that her book is so fricking funny and addictive that I stayed in my pj's til 2 this afternoon reading it and letting GG destroy the house around me. More than once I choked as I tried to stop myself from snorting coffee out my nose. More than once GG would dart in from her playroom, asking "wha 'appened?" when I burst out laughing.

Then, I dragged myself off the couch to honour a promise to GG that we'd go to my Aunt's for a swim. Several times now my husband has reminded me I need to get petrol. Several times now I have rolled my eyes at him and said "FFS, stop treating me like an irresponsible child, I am perfectly capable of looking at a gauge in my own car, and looking after myself. I did manage quite nicely for the 26 years I walked this earth before I met you. Honestly!!"

So I get in the car and blithely head off. About a minute down the road I decide that we really should go back and get Scout the Loyal Hound, he loves running free range on her acreage property and playing with my Uncle's dog. On the way back, I glance at the pretty little orange light on my dash. "Hmm, has that always been there? I don't think I've noticed it before?" It is, of course, the fuel light. Fuck.

I check the cool whizz-bang gizmo that tells me how many k's I have left til I run out of petrol. 10. No drama, there's a service station just down the road. We continue home, pick up Scout and head off to said station. I pull up, pop the petrol cap thingy and am about to get out of the car when I realise I just threw towels and keys on the front seat, I didn't grab my bag, and I certainly didn't grab my purse. Fuckity fuck.

I slink out of the service station, go home and grab my purse. I check the whizz bang thingy again and it has gone down to 3 KILOMETRES!!! WTF!?!?! The servo is only a k at most down the road!! Stupid, lying whizz-bang thing!! Further avow my deep distrust of all thing technical. At this rate, I will run out of fuel imminently. I am NOT prepared to be stuck on the side of the road in my cossies, with an impatient child and boisterous dog in tow. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

We make it back to the service station and I am stuck with a dilemma. Hubby insists I use nothing but the super-expensive, high-performance, ultimate, this-is-what-you-put-in-your-Vanquish fuel. Sadly, I have only $15 in my account. This will be but a drop in the tank. Sorry honey, but I put the cheapest combustible liquid I can get my hands on in our spunky little sporty car, a leftover from our more financially secure days. Had I had a dishrag used to mop up metho, this is what I would've wrung out into the tank. Love you!!! Guess I can add Bad Wife Diary to the title.

After our swim, it occurs to me GG may become hungry soon. She ate a healthy lunch, but only because I had the forethought to freeze some meals for work next week. I am distinctly underwhelmed by the prospect of going home and constructing a meal, so I do what all independent, resourceful women do. I go next door to my Mums and invite ourselves for dinner. Luckily I have an awesome Mum who sees all my tricks but lets me get away with them anyway. Score!! I do however, wash up for her, as she is sadly sans-dishwasher. And very good at reminding her children how lucky we are, without actually saying anything.

Hubby arrived home from his work Christmas do, having been at Eagle Farm races all day, surprisingly more human and less shambling gorilla-like than I expected (he's a hilariously simian-like drunk) a while back, whereupon I feigned interest in his day long enough to warrant the decree that tomorrow is Daddy Day Care Day, and I shall be absconding to do some Christmas shopping. Or possibly catching up with friends for coffee. The less he knows the better, really.


* Cos I'm sure there'll be more!!

Shattered

I feel like a shipwreck survivor today. I (well, we all) had a shocking night last night. After a frustrating battle getting GG to go to sleep, I came to a point where I could not face one more night of her climbing into my bed and depriving me of any more sleep for the night.

It has been building up for a while, this resentment of my space, sleep and privacy. It is also tempered with the ever-present guilt of how have I let this happen? Am I a bad mother for letting it get this far? Am I a bad mother for not wanting her in my bed? GG used to be a good sleeper, after a shocking start as a baby, but then she moved to a big-girl bed and everything went pear-shaped. I persevered and got her going to bed at a reasonable hour (8pm, even though I'd prefer earlier), but once she realised she could climb out, we had problems. I tried the whole putting her back to bed again and again, but felt that her screaming the house down and keeping hubby awake was selfish, as he only gets about 4 or 5 hours to sleep most nights anyway, between his early morning starts with one job, and late finishes with the other. So I gave in, and would let her climb into bed with us, usually ending up with hubby relocating to the spare bed, and her shoving her feet up my nose for the rest of the night.

Last night kind of happened; without my usual over-analysing, building up nerve and planning for it. I just simply couldn't take it anymore. So when she woke up last night and padded down the hall to me, I was tired, frustrated and just couldn't face this going on and on, for God-know-how long. Would she be 3 and still doing this? 5? 8? 24?. I took her back to her room, laid her down , sang Puff the Magic Dragon about 17 times, and she still wasn't going - so I stood up, kissed her and said "Time to go to sleep now" and left... and unleashed hell. She wailed, begged, screamed, sobbed and shivered. Hubby and I tag teamed putting her back to bed. She cried, I cried. Hubby then chose this precise moment to question the wisdom of making her sleep on her own. I was already sobbing my heart out, feeling wretched and cruel and stupid for even letting it get this bad. Yeah, thanks for the moral support honey, love knowing you've got my back. I'm even starting to cry again just thinking back on last night, it felt horrible.

In the end, hubby ended up sitting with her until she feel asleep in her bed. Given that I was a sobbing wreck by this stage, he seemed the calmer influence, she only got more upset when she saw I was upset. I was so impressed by his ability to maintain a pleasant, calm voice, and patiently keep putting her back in bed, unperturbed by her screaming and hitting out at him.

She did end up staying in her bed the whole rest of the night, bouncing into my room this morning full of smiles and giggles and forgiveness. I told her how proud of her I was, staying in her own bed, and how I loved her sooo much. Her little chest puffed up and she beamed, face aglow. I told her I was sorry she got upset, but she's a big girl now and needs to sleep in her own bed. I told her again how much I loved her. I think I was actually afraid she would feel less for me, as though I had failed her, hurt her. She gave me a look about a hundred years too old for her actual age, held my face in her hands and said "Guess what? I love you too!" I think my heart broke.

So now I have set this train down the mountain, I guess I better hang on and see it out. Even though hubby will be at work tonight, and it will be just her and me. I will be strong, calm and patient. At least for as long as it takes, then I will be broken, crying and shaken, but I'll be broken, crying and shaken in a child-free bed. I know I need to get this issue sorted, especially as I want another baby soon, but I'm finding it hard to justify. I feel guilty, selfish and drained.

Wish me luck. Or vilify me, whatever...

Blast from the Past

I was at City Hall in Brisbane tonight, and while Mum and I were finishing off our Gelatissimos (yum!) outside, she was telling me about the days I used to go to kindy there on the rooftop of City Hall.

I knew I went to kindy there when Mum worked in the City, but haven’t really thought much more about it. It was only tonight that she painted a bit of a picture for me. She talked about how she would often have to fight her way through protesters (it was the 70’s) to pick me up. It created such an image in my mind of gentle, lovely Mum, elbowing hippies aside and growling what about her right to just get home with her daughter.

Back then she lived on the Northside, and would catch the train in with me, and in 15 minutes flat would have raced from Central Station to City Hall, dropped me, and raced down the hill to where she worked. No wonder she was so fit back then!

She also got me thinking about the guilt I feel when GG cries when I leave her at kindy, and how I really needn’t bother. I have absolutely no recollection of being left, even the day my finger got slammed in the big, heavy entrance door, and Mum had to race to the hospital carrying me gushing blood, to get it stitched. I still have the scar. I have no abandonment issues, am very close to Mum (who worked full time back then) and have yet to become a sociopath. So maybe, just maybe, I have nothing to worry about.

Apparently the kindy is still open until they close City Hall for refurbishment, I really should make a pilgrimage there...

Guilt Edged

I've been thinking a lot about how I parent GG lately. We've now graduated from the "just please let me keep her alive and breathing" stage of parenting, to actually raising a person. One with (hopefully) smarts, resourcefulness, confidence, compassion, self-worth, kindness, a sense of humour and the wherewithal to finance my retirement on board a luxury cruiseship.

I like to think most of the time I am doing a pretty good job, but since I have a tendency to over-analyse absolutely everything, I can't help but get worked up over where I think I could be doing better, and "guilty" has become my default setting. They're not big things, but Oh Lord!! Mummy guilt is the worst feeling I have ever experienced in my life.

Like this morning, GG was up at 5am. Uurrghhh. Because this is an hour early for her, she was tired, clingy, argumentative and just generally discombobulated. After a few hours of having her permanantly attached to either my lap or my right leg, I'd had enough. "GG!" I snapped, "I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!! I AM NOT YOUR SLAVE, I AM IN CHARGE HERE (I believe I actually stamped my foot at this stage, just to really impress upon her my natural authority) AND I HAVE THINGS TO DO!! I HAVE LAID OUT YOUR PLAY-DOH, YOUR DRAWING AND HI-5 IS ON IN THE LOUNGEROOM - GO PLAY!!!"

She threw me a black look, burst into pitiful wails and stormed off (okay, okay, everyone related to me - stop laughing!!!). After I had cleaned up the kitchen, put a load of washing on, tidied up toys and generally experienced my leisure time as I now know it, I went into where she was watching Hi-5. She pouted up at me and informed me she was "a bit wet". GG is toilet training and hasn't had an accident in a week. She was soaked. Ohhhhh....my stomach twisted as my heart sank into it. I gathered her up. "GG, were you too scared to come tell Mummy you needed potty?". Sensing her moment, she put on her most hard done by face. "Yesh", she whispered. Crack! There goes my heart. I felt small, horrible.

Now I know this is a relatively small thing, and I'm sure she's forgotten about it even now. But gee, it really got me today, maybe I'm just feeling vunerable.

Probably from lack of sleep, because nearly every night, yep, GG comes creeping in in the middle of the night. I have been through so many ups and downs with her sleep. Due to pain from an undiagnosed wheat intolerance (colic my ass, Doc!), GG spent the first 6 months of her life being rocked to sleep, sometimes for hours on end. Then I got her tummy sorted, and taught her to go to sleep on her own. I used a fairly "soft" method, but it did involve a few nights of her crying herslef to sleep before she got it, then was good as gold. I still remember the feeling of sitting, tense as a coiled spring, listening to my baby cry, knowing I could stop it in a second. Sometimes hubby had to physically hold me back. After a peroid of great sleeping, GG moved into a big girl bed. Cue more sleep dramas, refusing to go to sleep etc. I have got her to go to sleep in her bed, but only if I sing her to sleep, but if I try putting her back in her bed at night, she will fly into a rage, wailing and screaming til she vomits. Part of me used to like her curling up and sleeping with me, it felt very natural, earth-mother bonding like. But now, I am so over it. I hate the guilt of knowing I am failing to teach her properly. I hate the lack of sleep, the little feet in the small of my back, the infrigement on my *ahem* marital relationship. I am almost at the point where I will devise a strategy and try again at keeping her in her own bed. If only I can get over the guilt of the pain I'm about to cause her.