My sewing machine still spends more time on my desk than Miller

Here's what I've been sewing.

As it started to get warm about 6 weeks ago, I realised most of Paddy's t-shirts were getting a little snug, so I decided to make him some shirts. Firstly, this cute as heck Hedgehog one


Hawai'ian

Pirates

Trains

and these are the two t-shirts he ore for breast cancer week at daycare
I sent the love train on down to adorn Drew, a fellow train-lover, but Patrick liked it so much I had to make him his own

Finally I made this for ME a while back. I love the fabric (I couldn't find an Australian stockist so I had to order it in from Etsy) and the best thing about it is pockets! Oh, and it is pretty snazzy


And here are my favourite sites at the moment, too. (apart from failblog, of course)

Ugliest Tattoos
Awful Plastic Surgery
It Made My Day- little moments of win
There, I fixed it
Regretsy (thx, minnie)

Sticks and stones

Ok before I start, I am typing this with Ollie in his new (second-hand) Bum.bo and Patrick playing trains next to me so I may have to go at any moment.

What do we do about bullying?

I was hoping to not have to consider all of these issues until Patrick was ready for school.

But.

The daycare P attends is having a week-long fundraiser for breast cancer, and they requested the kids all wear something pink. Considering I had nothing better to do than study, I immediately accepted the challenge to make Patrick something to wear. I made two t-shirts- one a white one with a pink star on the front, and another pink one with a train. He wore the pink star one on Monday, with a pair of skate-y long shorts (and the waistband of his Wiggles pullups showing. Dawg).

As we walked to his room I as astounded to hear two older boys (in the pre-K room, so 4 or 5) say as we approached "Is that a boy or a girl? Look, he's wearing PINK so he must be a GIRL" lol lol lol.

Luckily I don't think Patrick got it and he walked on, regardless.

But.

I'm probably drawing a long bow here* but maybe there was this discussion at that little boy's home: "They have to wear pink this week"
"Bullshit. Pink's for girls, my boy's not a girl, he's not wearing pink. This is bloody political correctness gang bullshit. Next thing you know they'll be having Ramadan and banning Christmas" (Ok the last bit is a bit OTT, but you catch my drift).

At least they didn't call him a poof.

As I said, I was shocked, so i ended up not saying anything to the staff, although now I think I should have.

But what to teach Patrick?

Part of me nods in agreement with each side of the fence on bullying. "Bullying is unacceptable, leads to children being isolated, unhappy and stressed and should not be accepted in any setting" but also "we can't insulate our children from all the bad things in life, and teaching them to deal with the bad stuff will make them more resilient and prepares them for the ugliness of real life". After all I was bullied at school and look how I turned out.

Insecure, with poor self-esteem and still hurt by all the barbs. Hmmmmmmmm

If you teach the child to answer back to the bullies it potentially opens them up to more bullying. Similarly, no-one likes a dobber, and he may be tauted more for being a crybaby.

Probably the best defence against bullying is to laugh. "With" them, not at them. If someone's trying to make you feel bad, laughing makes them feel that their jibes don't hurt and it de-powers the insult. But how do you explain that to a 2-year old?

We all want the best for our children. I think I've said it before that the thing I don't want the most for either of my boys is for them to be nerdy, daggy outsiders. The ones whose only frinds are the fat kid and the weird smelly kid. Because that was me, and thank Christ I was academically gifted because otherwise I would've quit school early, as the only thing of interest to me was learning. (sorry Alex, Renee, but it was true and I think we all know it). I don't mind them being 'just another kid', not the most popular, but also not the loner. (I'd really love for them to be the nerdy but sporty one with the looks- the one that the cool girls all have a secret crush on, but would only ever admit to under threat of 'truth, dare or torture'...
Girl 1: "Patrick?!"
Girl 2: "Yeah, Patrick- he has the most amazing green eyes, and have you seen him in boardies? HOT"
Girl 3: "I saw him surfing the other day and he is awesome"
Girl 4: "He's so lovely- he was my partner in chemistry last year and he's really funny and smart, and kind. He was so nice to me when I didn't understand something, and he'd explain it to me really well."
Girl 5 (the slutty one): "Yeah, I'd do him"
-more lolz-
Girl 1: "I can see it, now you say it, yep. He's hot"
Girl 3: "His little brother Oliver is hot too, he's in year 9 and all the girls there love him but no-one would say it"
and Patrick suddenly becomes the bookies' choice for school captain 2025.

Yes, this is a fantasy of mine I spend some time thinking about, normally when I'm doing laps and some school group turns up and I can see the group dynamics forming... which one would I like Patrick to be?

)

Wow, that's a long way off course.

What to do. Suggestions?

Next post: photos


* speaking of which, MrT and I are addicted to the Ranger's Apprentice series. Sad, very.

Teeth and other dramas

How does it go? There's nothing like a looming deadline to focus the mind? Something like that, anyway.

My official return to work date is Monday, but thanks to some creative rostering I now have until the week after that. It seems like such a long time since I was at work, but it also seems that Maternity leave has gone so very quickly this time. The days didn't ever seem to stretch out for hours on end like they did with Patick, probably because I haven't been on my own with a partner working 14-hour days. And for that I am eternally grateful.

But now with the prospect of my easy life coming to an end, I am feeling i am feeling increasingly stressed. And down. Yesterday found me in the baby change room of Taronga Zoo crying my eyes out: I was tired and frustrated. We had left our modest hotel at 10am, and now it was 1.30pm and all I had seen of the zoo was the shop (it was pouring rain and I didn't have a raincoat and had neglected to bring one for Patrick) and the inside of this changeroom with Ollie having done an enormous poo, and no-one in the zoo seemingly able to tell me where the baby change room was. Ordinarily I would've just changed him on any flat surface, but it was too wet. He had been howling, but by the time I found the changeroom he had fallen asleep, so I had to wake him up to change him which just felt cruel.

The day before we had driven down, with the plan being that Patrick and MrT would catch trains galore whilst I went to my favourite mall: a three level job dedicated ntirely to discount outlets. But when I got there I just found I kept thinking "what's the point? what am I doing here? why do I want to buy just more stuff? It will only clutter up the house..." and similar thoughts. I bought several pairs of shorts for Ollie, some new bath toys (meg the cat has eaten most of the ones we got for Patrick), socks for MrT, a funky laptop sleeve to use as a change mat for MrT when he's being "Mr Mom" when I'm back at work, some drink coasters and a mini of perfume I have been trying to find for a while (Daisy). I immediately felt guilty about the perfume.

yup. down dooby-do down down, comma comma down dooby-do down down. etc.

I'm not looking forward to work, but I'm not entirely sure why. I enjoy my work. I like using my brain. I like my co-wokers, by and large. I really enjoy the company of the nurses and working with them as a team (I know that sounds like the crap you come out with in a job interview, but no, seriously, I really do). So what is it I don't want to do?

I don't look forward to having to beg and plead for time to go and express. I don't look forward to having to find an alternative room in which to do that (there used to be a spare office we all used). I'm not looking forward to the grind of study and "when are you sitting your exam? What year are you again? Which module do you need?" and "have you presented anything at teh meetings this year? Are you doing journal club?" And all that crap.

I'm not looking forward to having to scurry to get there by 7am, leaving Patrick and Ollie in tears behind. I'm not looking forward to not doing any excercise. I'm not looking forward to having to prove myself.

I'm not looking foward to all that.

It's probably too late to see my therapist before I go back, so I desperately need to start trying to think positively. The only problem being that the more you try and fail, the more of a failure you feel. I've increased the dose of my meds, but all that seems to have achieved so far is feeling hot and sweaty and increased... crapulence (literally. if that's even a word)

What a muddle.

Ollie has the tiniest corner of a tooth showing in his perfect, pink gums. Byebye to his gorgeous gummy smile. He is nearly able to sit up by himself. He is hooting and cooing. At not yet 6 months, he is now fitting into some of the clothes Patrick was wearing when he was a year old. He is getting too long to fit onto my lap to breastfeed in polite society (I need to spread out on a lounge to support his weight with my knees- and -shock, horror- not every cafe or restaurant has a couch (I know, it's a shock to me, too)). He is still, for the most part, a happy, smiley, ... jolly individual. His biggest worry is having his toys stolen by his big brother (MINE bird! MINE elephant! MINE MINE MIIIIINE!) who regularly says "I Like it. It's mine." (that 'rules of a toddler' thing, said literally).

It is far easier to do this the second time around, but there is a nagging feeling that he too often gets left propped up on the couch with his toys whilst we attend to Patrick or something else, so he doesn't get nearly as much attention as Patrick did at a similar age, but I guess he is not the first second sibling to fall victim to this. I ought to know, I'm the youngest of 4! Thankfully his naturally sunny nature means that he doesn't seem to mind for the main part. I suppose it is no different to me putting Patrick in the pram and hauling him around various shopping malls to pass the day when he was young. At least this way I'm saving money.

I waste too much time on FarmTown.

Ok, I have to go. There's too much to do. I'll try and write again before long.

Oh man, I need to have an hour to sit down and write a meaningful post about how it is to do parenting 2.0 but this will have to do

It's getting warm again, so Patrick's been wearing last year's sandals. I noticed they looked a little tight, but it wasn't until he hobbled across the road I realised just how uncomfy they were.

So we went to a department store to buy some new ones.

I'm fairly fussy about Paddy's footwear, especially stuff he will probably be in day after day fo months on end, so I wanted a nice pair of study leather sandals with and enclosed toe so he can't stub his toes.

$89.95. WTF????

Ebay was bringing me no joy either. I looked in Trget and K-.M.rt and they ere all crap.

When did kids' shoes get so FREAKING EXPENSIVE!

We made a road trip to the outlet store 45minutes away and made a day of it. We had to: Ollie did an enormous Poonami that went, literally, from head to toes. (Ever wonder why they have deep handbasins in Parents rooms? For emergency bathing). That particular shopping complex didn't have a store with kids clothes in it, so we wrapped him up in a blanky and popped a too big t-shirt on him. Then we visited the westfield down the oad and got Gruen-ed into staying there for a few hours...

Why am I telling you this? Aaaargh! Too much sewing to do and only 2 weeks of leave left!