Credit

My 3 month old starting sleeping through the night from when she was 6 weeks old.

Did you just think, "How lucky of you to have such a good baby" ? That's the response I always get. And it annoys me. Yes, this baby actually is really good. She has a calm and chilled-out nature. She's alert and very responsive to human interaction. But that's not why she sleeps so well.

She has been put on a strict routine of sleeping, feeding and wake times since she was 1 week old. This has involved waking her up at times when I just wanted to let her sleep, and putting her down while awake (she, not I) to settle herself to sleep (translation: cry). The long term (ie lifelong) goal is to stabilise her hunger and sleeping habits. The short term effect is that she sleeps through the night from what seems to many to be an impossibly early age.

So while I agree that this wee bundle of joy is indeed a good baby, please note that the more important factor is that she and I have worked very hard for this result. Three kids on, it's still heart wrenching to listen to your baby learn to settle themselves to sleep. It was more than "luck", and more than having a "good baby". Give me some credit man!

Rant over.

PS. I'm always happy to give tips on implementing routines to those who ask :)

Recessive gene drama

That awkward moment when your own first cousin asks if your kid's dad is Chinese, even though you're married to a pureblood Samoan. OMG.

Then your own daughter declares, "I am from Samoa, and Anty is from China!" LOL.

I don't know what the big deal is. He's obviously a Samoan. See for yourself.

Birthday musings

Today the shadow girl turns 6. That's right. Amazingly enough, we have managed to keep a little human being alive for 6 years!

So what exciting and elaborate plans do we have in store for the day, you ask?

Well, we told the birthday girl she gets to decide what she wants for her Special Birthday Breakfast, as well as her Special Birthday Dinner. Ooooh lucky! That's one of the comments I received when I shared the birthday plans with others.

Ummm, excuse me? She is actually a very privileged little girl. She has "things" that we could only dream of having when growing up as poor little mongrels. She has a warm house, warm clothing, is never hungry (OK, that one may not be true), has the care and attention of a mother and a father, cable TV. She will have a proper birthday party on Saturday even (and I'm not talking about the traditional island style ones where the guests are the parents' and grandparents' buddies, and the menu is BBQ and beer. Nom!). What I'm trying to say is ... she's got shit!

So pardon me for not rolling out yet another red carpet today, and hail her royal highness by throwing wads of cash everywhere. My kid has been taught to be appreciative and grateful, of whatever little or much she receives. If she hasn't earned it herself, then it's extra to the nothing that she would have had otherwise.

She actually was super excited about her special breakfast of pancakes and loved her glittery birthday card. It's the little things that matter. Stop being shallow, bloody generation of entitlement.

(And the musings have officially turned into a rant. LOL!)

On that note, Happy Birthday my little super shadow girl. You carry on being cheap awesome.

Ain't nobody got time (School Edition)

My shadow girl has been going to school for a year now. And in that year, I have found out that I am a pretty useless parent as far as "supporting the school" goes.

Before
I dropped the kid off at daycare at 8am sharp, and picked her up at 5:30pm (just). They cooked for her, fed her, changed her, clothed her, educated her and entertained her. I just provided a home for sleeping at night.

Now
I have to make morning tea and lunch for the kid to take. I have to arrange and pay for before-school care and after-school care. I get emails every week from the PTA asking if I want to help with the school disco, the school fair, organising school lunch fundraising or running cake stalls.

No? Then perhaps monitoring the school crossing will tickle your fancy. Or maybe you might like to try your hand at volunteering time to run a lesson for your child's weekly Inquiry day, where you could teach about your culture, your job, or anything else outside the regular curriculum.

Ok, maybe none of those suit. But surely your friends and family will want to purchase an Entertainment Book to support the school? Ok not this week, how about next week? The week after?

ARGH!!! Make. It. Stop.

The first few times I was like, damn, I'm not free, maybe next time. But the truth is, there is no next time. There is just no time. I struggle to stay alive as it is, and ensure my little humans stay alive too. Never mind the damn goldfish (who is only alive by the good grace of God). And the career (hanging on by a thread). Then there's homework, and those "things you can do at home to help your child's education" (like WTF?). So the school committee stuff? Well, it's on the priority list, but kind of squished at the end. (Like when you went to a birthday party when you were young, and only your rich friend brought a present and card, so the rest of your gang added your names at the end of the card and eventually it ran out of space so the last few names were really tiny and kind of running downwards)

So for the good mums and dads at the school who actually contribute to the school with their time and expertise, on behalf of the disorganised, lazy, dazed and confused parents, I say a heartfelt thanks. My kid benefits greatly from the quality of education and care that the school provides as a result of your input.

As for me, I'm gonna continue with my plan of upping my "school donation" to make up for my non-participation. Problem solved.

Accidents

The mother-in-law is visiting from Samoa. While she was playing with La and her train set yesterday, I overheard things I don't usually hear around young kids' playtime ...

La: "Choo-choo! Let's race the trains around the track."
[train derails]
La: "Oh no! We've got an accident. Ambulance!!"
MIL: "Oh no, there is only one person alive. Everyone else is dead!" [cracks up laughing]
La: "AMBULANCE! Help!"
MIL: "They're all dead!"


I'm pretty sure I heard wrong.


La: "Let's start the race again."
[train derails]
La: "Oh no! Another accident. Ambulance! Doctor!"
MIL: "There is no doctor available. The doctors are all drunk."


Oh, ok. Maybe I didn't hear wrong.

Thankfully we didn't have any little friends over for a playdate. Imagine the gems they would have taken home with them. Lol.

Hurting hearts

Parenting can be such a mother ...

Like when you try to convince your 5yo that you are not making them wear the big blue jacket because you want them to be fugly, but because you know it will be a cold day and they've got bronchitis and asthma, but all you get in return is defiance ...

Then you discipline them, try to teach them the importance of obedience, the value of the advice of those who love you ...

And they look at you, their big old teary eyes filled with anguish, and say, "My heart hurts, Mummy. My heart hurts because you are angry at me."

Then you hate yourself ...

And you eat two whole packs of kekesaiga to make yourself feel better ...

And you just end up feeling fat, fugs and still a bad mother.

99 Problems

1. Work is out of control busy.

2. I am super lost (i.e. aivalea) at my current work assignment.

3. Having a primary school kid and having to arrange your life around the fact that there is no more full time care for your kid during all your working hours ... it's a new discovery, a new challenge, and my goodness I feel so bad for all you other working parents out there! Let's get together and have a whine-fest (or even better, a wine-fest!)

4. I still haven't won Powerball. Obviously, or problems 1 to 3 would be resolved.

5. Ant is such a boy of a baby. He hasn't given me a smooth complexion, a "glow" or shiny/tamed hair like Lali did. Instead, he has given me a grand appetite for spicy bratwurst, bacon butties, churros and all else that is needed for getting elephantiasis.

6. I work in the middle of Wellington city. You would think that being surrounded by cafes galore it would be easy to find a date scone when you crave one, right? Wrong. I had to walk around in circles, visiting 5 cafes on a rainy morning before I could find one! Not impressed.

7. Our neighbour's visitor parked on the road in such that a way that impeded me from backing out of our driveway the way I wanted to. The hubby wisely volunteered to ask him to move, preventing a mad-preggo-lady altercation and possible charges for destruction of property ( though I would have only removed the rear bumper of his car ... that was part that was poking into our side of the driveway ... )

8. I'm sure I have about 92 or so more gripes on food and fat. Ugh. My sister takes photos from amazing angles that make me look a quarter of the size I am. People see them and say "You look so great! Upload more photos!" No thanks. I will only upload the photos that pass the "Pregnant But In Impossibly Great Shape" criteria. Hence why there aren't many.

9. Looking at Crazy Cakes and Just Desserts Facebook updates is driving me insane with cake cravings. I am refusing to do any baking right now though, because I can see it turning into a slippery slope ... of ganache and whipped cream and buttercream and custard!! Joy.

Two more months. I can do this. Just focus on the prize at the end ... that bowl of oka. Nommmm ...

We like to partay

That time of year is approaching again ... Lali Lady's birthday. And with it, of course, comes grand ambitions and plans for a party and cake.

Her royal highness had requested a princess themed party. My imagination ran wild, along with my Googling and Pinteresting, and it all started coming together in my mind ...

We would have a princessy bouncy castle. There would be a red carpet or some other royal entrance to the house, where the lounge would have pretty and delicate decorations. I would hire little furniture for the kids' meal and set it up all grand. There would a separate crafts area where they could make crowns or knightly swords. The conservatory would serve as the adults' retreat, where they could relax with some hors d'oeuvres (a.k.a heated sausage rolls from New World) and drinks. The cake would be a two-tier affair, one chocolate tier and one strawberry, made from scratch, not a box-cake in sight. I would learn to create fondant jewels and a tiara as toppers. All would marvel at my creative genius.

Yea right.

That plan has altered somewhat since I was kindly brought down to earth by my down-to-earth husband. The truth is, I will be a fat, nauseous, hormonal, lazy pig by the time the birthday rolls around (ha). Add the pressure of this grand party on top, and I would be a blubbering mess. So it looks like we will most likely settle for a party at an indoor play area, where you pay, turn up, party, go home. The End. So much simpler.

However, there is one survivor from the whole party revamp, and that is the cake. So I am now trialling strawberry cake from scratch, different frosting and piping techniques, etc. Exciting times! Next minute ... single layer "mud cake" from New World. Lol. Watch this space.

The cake my baby wanted, and will not be getting

It don't matter if you're black or white

Today at the supermarket, I was drooling over the chocolates that were not on my diet list, when the cutest little preschool-aged boy tugged on my dress and said "Mummeee, I want some this" pointing to some lollies.

Poor kid must not only have been lost, but he might have lost his colour sight. He was a blondie blue-eyed palagi. And I am ... well ... not.

Happy ending: his parents were nearby...cracking up at his mistake from the fruit section. Sounds about right though: fob in the chocolate aisle, palagi parents in the fruit and vege aisle. I don't know how on earth this kid mistook me for his mother.