The witching hour

In Denmark also called; the wolf-hour
It's the time from when you pick up the children from daycare/school etc and until you can put (throw) them in bed. I have received a lot of advice from magazines and family members but people tend to forget that each child is different and now that the terrible twos are entering our little household I swear we need a meddler to stand in the line of fire. A personal thing I discovered yesterday was that because I have a cold and I was getting really tired, there had been no nap, I found that my fuse was shorter than normal and that just made things even worse. I think that parents often forget that the children are feeling just like, if not worse, than the grown ups. They are tired, a bit icky, hungry and having no chores they must force themselves occupied with, they are in limbus. A semi-dark place filled with nothing and a slight fog clogging the brain - kinda a hopeless situation and you feel alone. No wonder your kids are hanging on your trouserleg, whining and unable to tell you what they need because they do not know. Imagine if you got home, tired, hungry and icky and just had to wait...

2½+1+1=??

First there was 1½, then I entered the family, then came Quinten and now Lily. We're 4½ people in this family, in a 2 bedroom apartment and making it work is exciting - not always good exciting but never the less. When Kate turns 4 this November we've lived here 2/3 of the time on the lease and we cannot wait to get out of here, as much as I love Mortsel I hate the traffic and I hate the neighbours, Steve probably hates the traffic more than me but then again, he gets stuck in it every single day he has to go to work - poor guy!
We have Kate every second weekend and to be honest, I don't always think it's enough, Quinten loves his sister and she loves being here, not sure she always loves him but that's children right?
I love all my children and I consider Kate mine as well - to a certain extend. I enjoy that sometimes I can 'hand over' the responsibility of her to her father and throw my hands in the air with a "Fine! Be that way!" Simply cannot do that with neither of the other two, I am the problem-solver when it comes to them and the safety net.
We are, at best, harmonic and at worst.... don't get me started. Steve and I do not agree on the rules, he says I'm too strict and I say he's too soft. Maybe because I expect so much from Kate, because I do not know what she can and cannot and so little of Quinten because I know exactly what he can and can't. Steve sees Quinten as a mini Kate and gets frustrated when he does not understand or does as told, he sees Kate as his little girl and I think that it often scares him when she grows up and develops as quickly as she does. Not having her on a daily basis is frustrating for him I believe, he misses out on so much and being a man, his eye is not for the details but for the whole picture. I see the details, I see every little thing. I think it's because I'm a mother :P A mother of 2½

The mummy-mafia: advice

To prepare for a child, a new life entering your life, is as easy as teaching a goldfish to use a bicycle. I found myself reading book and articles and everything I could get my hands on due to the fact that my mother would be far away and I only had few friends who had children and as they all said: "Each child is different" followed by "Parenting is learning by doing!" Still one tries to have everything ready, pack the bag around the 7 months and remember everything (bloody hard when you're just told that the hospital has everything and the father to be is clueless) I still packed all the wrong things though - wrong size of baby clothes, forgot half my toiletries and the tops I thought I could breastfeed in - no good. A Swedish friend of mine told me "No matter how hard you try and how much you think things though - you'll never be prepared for everything" She was right :P
My mother send me on the way towards motherhood with the advice: "Just make sure the baby is dry in one end and wet in the other" One of the best advice given to me and quite simple, you do not need to be a rocket-scientist to figure out which end should be what. My grandmother told me: "When the baby sleeps - you sleep"
So in total: take things as they come, get sleep when you can, try and don't give up and don't despair. And they were right, all of them - well, with the exception of the family members who insisted that I let him cry (as mentioned in other posts - it's not an option for me)
And as we're expecting another one for this summer I can say with pride that I am as little prepared as the first time, I am still clueless on what to do and have no idea how to make everything work but thank the higher powers: it's doesn't matter - everything is going to be just fine.

The mummy-mafia: judgement

On the board of expecting mothers and mothers for toddlers and babies the discussion often occurs: pain-free birth or natural and my current due-group is no exception. I salute the women who give birth naturally but it's not something I would want to try, with Quinten I was in labour for 21 hours, he got stuck and was taken by suction-cup .... so no thanks - I'll take anything they have to offer and you know what, I do not feel one bit like a bad mother or less of a woman for it. Sure some think you miss out of the huge rush of feeling the baby come out but it's not something I have to say I craved after being awake for over 30 hours.
Now comes to the breastfeeding, a mafia of itself. I do understand why it's important for the child to get the first milk and for the bond and closeness to the mother but honestly, if formula was so bad for the baby it would be on prescription. Quinten is not damaged (as far as I can see) nor is he unable to bond with me (he's a friggin velcro-baby) And to be honest, apart from getting rid of the pain of breastfeeding, it was nice to be able to let papa take a feeding shift so I could get some much needed sleep.
On the topic of food we enter a whole world of 'do's and 'don't's and no matter how many people you ask, they always know better and what you're doing is not completely right. Funny thing is: most children survive their parent's choice of food for them.
"Just let him cry" It was an advice that, in the end of the colic period, was enough to make me plot murder and it's still given to me when Q wakes up crying during the night. My baby-nurse is sure that he would just go back to sleep. Yeah right! The problem is, for me, that I do not believe that babies and children are evil plotters who try and rob their parents (mothers) of sleep and energy. When a child cries there is a reason for it, hunger, being tired, needing a hug and so on... all of which I think are important to provide for your child. True, at some point, I am sure a child cries just because they have no idea what else to do, they are bored or just confused about it all but then isn't it the parent's job to help them figure things out? And a hug never hurt anyone :P

I do not understand children...

Children are weird creatures if you ask me, they start out helpless, then grow and become more and more self-sufficient but if abilities fail, they are back at square one - or so it seems. My gorgeous bonus-daughter pinches the babypowder out of the changing bag and emptied it into her bed... why? She didn't know and I didn't know... the bed smells nicely but the sheets needs a wash (even though newly washed)
She was playing with the toilet brush, 'cleaning' the toilet and causing a small flooding of the toilet-room, why? She didn't know and I still don't know... I guess it was because it was fun, well, more fun playing (her) than having to clean up (me)
My son is happily playing in his pen but as soon as he sees me, he falls over, tumbles and doesn't like his toys anymore, stretches his arms out for me to come pick him up, why? He's too young to explain why the sight of me reminded him that he was alone and neglected.
And then there is the fight against Morpheus, always! every night! every day (unless we're out walking) He's so tired he cannot focus and his head keeps dropping, eyes are constantly being rubbed but no, we do not give up! We're stronger than him and we'll go down kicking and screaming - literally! It's funny to watch though, annoying to listen to and horrible dealing with but one day, we hope he's going to be like his sister who is a blessing (mostly!) when it comes to bedtime.
In general children are lovely, difficult, charming and pains and one day, when they have children they will understand what we went though with them.... just like we now understand what our parents went through with us.... is it called Circle of Life?

Baby food....

My mother is proud! Quinten will not eat the storebought baby foods such as fruit and vegetable so I have made all his food myself, ever since he started on fruit. I can see the benefit of making the food myself, I can avoid bananas which gives him constipation and I can make him try different fruits and vegetables such as papaya, mango, string beans, mushrooms (frozen) and so on. And no, I do not make him eat papaya and mushrooms mixed together, that would just be cruel.
Plus I know everything that's in the food, no added sugars and such... now here comes the other side of the story. My fiancé and his family seems to believe that it's better for the baby to get the storebought foods, the argument is that there are more vitamins and minerals in it - my counterargument is: what do you think they make babyfood from? and how do you think they make it last as long as it does? Steve normally doesn't continue the argument due to his final statement: "You're the one feeding him, I cannot control what you do when I'm a work!" Right he is.... and here should be mentioned that our son is happy, healthy and thriving so I guess I'm doing something right.

The devil child...

I swear, sometimes I doubt Quinten is my son and not the spawn of the devil, how anyone can get so red-faced and so hysterical over what appears to be nothing. And how I just love the advice: "Just let him cry!" That's just too easy for family/friends/pediatrician to say. I can honestly say he does not stop by himself, I have let him cry for hours (yes, I am evil) and unless I can guess/find out or magically conjure just the thing he wants/needs it does not stop.
As he is growing, now over 8 months, and we're starting to tell him 'no' to thing (e.g. pulling the curtains, putting his pacifier into the radiator, reaching for remotes/coffee filled mugs/anything dangling and fragile) he either starts with the crocodile tears or he gives a big smile and continues, but only with me. When papa says no to him, he quickly pulls his hand back and starts scratching his ear. Tone of authority? Respect? I don't know but it sure it annoying considering the fact that I am the one home with the boy all day, feeding him, changing diapers/clothes and so on. Being a mother is indeed an ungrateful job and not just because of the workload, also the lack of respect and appreciation (from the child :P) But I do love him, of course I do but sometimes it's a bit harder to say out loud than other times.
And sometimes I just laugh a bit too hard when reading http://1000reasonsimabadmom.com/ I completely understand and have to agree with her in the message between the lines, we're not always happy, cheerful and smiling - there are crap days too.

Being a stepchild

I've been a stepchild and still is, my mother and father got divorced when I was around 2 so I've never experienced them together. Now my father got married twice during his life and my mother lives together with my stepfather going on 21 years now, my two stepmothers were very different, the first one, Karin, had two children of her own and was certainly not fond of me and especially not of my mother, she was a weird woman and I still, to this day, do not understand nor know what my father saw in her. They had a child together, Elisabeth, whom I haven't seen since she was around 8 months old, she is today probably around 20 or so and even though Karin contacted me a few years ago after my father passed away and asked, on the behalf of my halfsister, to create a contact I declined, like said, I haven't seen the girl for a lifetime and the only connection we have is half of our genes in common. The second wife of my father, Sus, was unable to have children even though she wanted one of her own badly, she always treated me right and never saw me as a problem to her relationship with my father, I liked her though at times I felt she was trying too hard, which is not really a bad thing.
My mother and my stepfather had a child together when I was 14, Marianne came into our lives when my mother was 38 and 14 days after my stepfather had turned 40, quite late to have a second one if you ask me, but my stepfather wanted one of his own which is perfectly understandable. Now the relationship between him and me have been turbulent, I lived with my mother and stepfather and only visited my father about 2 weeks a year and we barely spoke apart from that. My stepfather and I didn't speak to each other for 5 years, I can't even remember what went wrong but I'm sure he can. I was a troublesome teenager, being an only child for 14 years, first having my mother to myself and then at the age of 8 having to share her with another person and then at the age of 14 not being the only child anymore - oh yes, here it should be mentioned that I had serious problems and actually needed professional help, it was the beginning of my Borderline. When I was 15 I was 'shipped' of to boardingschool, a year I think back of with mixed feelings - let me put it this way: I haven't got contact with any one I met there.
When I finished boardingschool, the summer I turned 16 my mother found a room for rent further down the road from them and I lived there for a year before I got my first apartment, my mother pair for it all and I, still to this day, have no clue how she found the money for it but I guess it was important for her to get me out of the house so it wasn't a constant warzone. There was no screaming dialogue, I was the one acting out, I hated my stepfather and often slammed doors, I even broke a doorhandle once so I understand why I had to leave.
Today my father has passed away, I have no contact with any of my stepmothers and I refer to my stepfather as my father, I have come to realize that he was been there the entire way, been completely overthrown by the tornado called Bente and all the complications that comes with a modern family but he stayed and held on and he's been the only father I've known in my everyday life. In other words, he was there for me, maybe not when I needed it, but after the storm settled and he provided both me and my mother with a home and security, financially and physically and for that I am eternal grateful and I love him for it.

The evil stepmom

Yup, that's me. Steve has a lovely daughter form a previous relationship (yes, we are a modern family) Kate turns 3 this November and lives aprox 150 km from where we live which makes the trip to go get her every second weekend a very long one but so worth it. What she visits the house gets turned upside down, we have to go visit grandma and grandpa and maybe the uncle and aunt unless they come to the grandparents house as well. Steve loves his daughter and that was one of the things that made me fall in love with him, he's a great father and spoils his daughter rotten, which is both good and bad. To be honest, I am the strict one, I'm the one that sets the bounderies and tell her off most of the time and it's annoying and hard, I love the girl as if she was my own but as strict as her 'real' mum is as soft and allowing is her father which causes problems from time to time. Understandable really if you ask me. The girl only speaks Dutch, a language I am only learning so often when she says something, I do not understand plus when I have to tell her something, I often have to as Steve to translate and with the attention-span of a teaspoon the moment is gone and she's thinking about something completely different. Steve and I agreed from the very beginning that we would set the rules for Kate as we would for our own children, Bianca (Kate's mom) told Steve off again and again for allowing her too much, for not calming her down and instead letting her run amok on a sugar rush. My opinion is that kids will be kids but that they develop best with guidelines and solid rules - a point of view Steve and I do not always share but we come to terms with our disagreements and try and make the short time we have the little rascal as pleasant as possibly.