Mother's little helper

An Aspirin a day keeps the headache away.
That could be the motto of my life at the moment, if I wasn't in fact taking Alvedon or Ipren instead of Aspirin and definitely popping more than one pill a day either way .

I am stuck in a migraine-inducing nightmare, a combination of warm weather and a teething baby that makes taking painkillers a daily routine. The headaches I get are so intense that the slightest movements cause pain.

I have always made it a point to avoid taking headache pills, so I am not used to being all drugged up and will use this as an excuse for just about anything.
I pull weird faces and drool uncontrollably? It's because I'm drugged up.
I eat too much chocolate and neglect my chores? It's because I'm drugged up.
I let my crying baby lie in his crib while I go away and write this post? It's because I'm drugged up.

Catchy tune

I have been listening to Gnarls Barkley's "Going on" nonstop ever since I downloaded it. It's just so damn catchy.



Anyone that needs what they want
And doesn't want what they need
I want nothing to do with
And to do what I want
And to do what I please
Is first of my to-do list

I hear you, Gnarls Barkley, I hear you.

Married life 2

Me and my husband were talking about the distribution of power in our relationship.

He: "...and I know my place..."
I: "Under my toffel?"
He (resigned): "Yes."

Child endangerment

My husband was home on Monday, so we took the chance to run some errands together. He put Pontus in the car and we got on our way.
We had barely made it to the main road when my husband suddenly stepped on the brakes, turned off the engine and jumped out of the car. And in that same second I realized where the very refreshing draft I had been feeling had come from: we had driven off with the car door on Pontus' side being wide open. WIDE open.

I know that my husband has the memory span of a goldfish (he has proven that more than once), but this has to be his masterpiece.

Second face

I am good at many things or at least that's what I choose to believe. There is one thing however I am totally, utterly incapable of: putting on make-up. It's not really my fault though - if you have ever seen my mother's make-up (unchanged since the early 80ies) you will understand that it is in fact hereditary.

For the longest time I did not really care about make-up to start with. When you weigh as much as I did some colour in the face won't do much to improve your appearance. And I certainly did not want to look like Mimi Bobeck from The Drew Carey Show:



But now that I am leaner and meaner than ever I embrace the idea of beautifying myself in every way possible.

Being a 30 year old make-up virgin is not easy though. My attempts at "learning by doing" usually include me poking a little brush into my eye, curling my eyelashes so much that I resemble Liza Minelli during her Cabaret days from the lower eyelid up and creating an interesting stripe pattern on my face with foundation.

Enough with the self-mutilation and swamp monster looks - it is time to get professional help! But where?
I know that Kicks and Make Up Store both offer courses, but I detest the idea of basically sitting in their store window and having people look at me. Then there's Axelssons Spa, but they only use their special mineral-based make-up. On the plus side I could combine a make-up consultation there with a nice, relaxing massage.

Any other suggestions?

Name matters

Yesterday I read an article in Der Spiegel about a 9 year old girl in New Zealand that sued her parents because she wanted to change her name. They had, in all seriousness, named the poor child Talula does the Hula From Hawaii. Can you imagine having that as a first name? Neither could she apprently. The court not only ruled in her favour - the parents also lost custody of the girl.

When it comes to whacky names New Zealand gives America a run for its money. All of the following names were allowed as first names: Benson and Hedges (for twins), Midnight Chardonnay, Number 16 Bus Shelter and Violence. But even the New Zealand authorities put their foot down every once in a while and rejected the following names: Stallion, Yeah Detroit, Fish and Chips (for twins), Twisty Poi, Keenan Got Lucy, Fat Boy, Cinderella Beauty Blossom and Sex Fruit.

How do people even come up with something like that??

Blogthings

I like to learn new things about me through the little tests on blogthings.com.
Today, for example, I learned which names my breasts have from the Boobie Name Generator:

Your Boobies' Names Are...

Betty and Veronica

It is safe to say that this will both delighten my friend Veronica and make communication with my breasts so much easier. No more "Hey you there on the left..." from now on!

Polka dot overkill

After now having changed the whole design to pink I can't help but wonder if I maybe overdid it. There's just so much colour that makes the circles pop out - it looks like a polka dot convention. Maybe there is such a thing as too much pink after all.

Success!

See the pink dots up there? I couldn't let Inkscape win, so I tried out a new approach on the smaller image. And: success! Now that I know how (and that) it works I can fix the rest as well. Maybe not today though.

Damn you, Inkscape!

I just spent those precious hours after Pontus has fallen asleep and before I go to bed to learn how to use Inkscape. Inkscape is a vector graphics editor with which I hope to one day create some fancy images for my blog - if I ever understand what all those buttons and menus are for. Right now, it doesn't look like that will ever happen.

For an easy start I took my existing blog design and altered the colours, from greens to different shade of, you guessed it, pink. I clicked and I dragged and I dropped and I copied and I selected. And in the end I saved.
It was not until I tried to open the files that I found out that while Inkscape lets you save your images in GIF format, it does not create usable files. Whatever I do, and I have tried everything, the files are corrupted. I get either an error message or a blank sheet and there is nothing I can do to fix it.

Time lost, lesson learned...

Married life

My husband comes into the living room where I am sitting on the couch and says: "What would you like to have? What can I buy for you?"

I answer: "If you ask me what _I_ want then there is certainly something that you want and which you are trying to compensate me for, so I guess the real question is what _YOU_ want to have and how much it is going to cost us."

He (in a low voice): "I want a PS3."

I: "And I want a tummy tuck and new boobs."

He: "How much does that cost?"

I: "More than a PS3."

He hesitates, then says: "How about just one boob?"

The self-entertaining baby

In my effort to be as lazy and irresponsible a mother as humanly possible I have come up with a great new way of keeping Pontus busy.

I present to you: the self-entertaining baby!



You just take a suitable mobile, preferably with a plastic ring like this one from IKEA, and put it on the baby's head. There is always at least one colourful toy dangling right in front of the baby's face that it can play with and chew on. By trying to shake off the mobile the baby can even make the figures dance. It is not only good, safe fun but also a great way to improve the baby's 3D coordination.

I am sure this will become a huge trend soon, I am thinking worldwide really, with my own "The self-entertaining baby" brand. All the celebrities will want to have one and I get ridiculously famous and then I get to be on Oprah and I will hang out with all the stars and I make tons of money and everybody knows my name and then I record an album which doesn't even make it into the Top 100 and I say that it was just for fun anyway even though my heart is broken and then I try to become a movie star instead but all of my films flop and then people start to look at me funny and stop returning my calls and then I have a breakdown which makes me remember my roots and I return to my old life.
Okay, whatever, just remember you heard it here first!

Plumber's crack

We bought pull-up diapers for Pontus but there seem to be some issues with the fit, because every time he leans forward we see this:



I am pretty sure I shouldn't be seeing that much butt cleavage.

So either we change back to our tried and trusted diapers or I get him a butt bib from buttbibs.com:



Just when you think you have seen it all...

Bargain hunt

I went to Eko in Länna today where they had 50% off on all children's clothing. Pontus now has enough bodies, pants, shirts etc. in all kinds of sizes to last him for eternity (or hopefully at least the winter).
All in all I bought 30 items, none costing more than 30 SEK, which is a real bargain.

Now, not wanting to tease or anything (lie!), I would like to mention that to find similarly good prices Muddiz travelled all the way to Ullared with her family. Ullared lies on the other coast - Länna a mere 2 highway exits from where we live.

I think I win this round of the big bargain hunt!

Three-tiered cake stand

Look what I bought today...
It's pink, it's plastic, it's my new three-tiered cake stand from Rusta.



Now I have got a good excuse to bake cupcakes again.

Time flies when you're having fun

Has it really been 10 days since my last posting? Oops!
I guess what they say is true: Time flies when you're having fun. And I am having fun indeed.

Pontus and I are out almost every day, be it to go shopping (IKEA being a weekly favourite) or to visit friends. With our daily routines, the little day trips and the quality time we spend together at home I am really, truly enjoying my parental leave at the moment.

I have also taken the time to finish several tasks that were long overdue and it feels nice to have gotten them off my mind.

I even got around to fixing some things around the house and am currently making re-decoration plans for Pontus' room as well as mine.

Life is not super-exciting, but that's just what I need right now: summer, sun and serenity!

Going, going, gone

Today we moved Pontus' crib out of our bedroom into what will ultimately be his room. With my husband's snoring and Pontus' late-night concerts and monologues people never got a good night's rest.
I am people. Tired people.

We will test this for a couple of days now and see how it goes. Ideally everyone should be able to sleep better and with less interruptions. If not, my husband has to leave the bedroom as well.
Because I am also everyone. Seriously.

The unsung hero

There are some things that make life so much easier when you have a little child, but not all get the attention and credit they deserve.

I would therefore like to take a chance to pay tribute to my unsung hero, the slipper sock:



It serves as a doorstop for our bedroom door, effectively preventing it from slamming shut. Be it draft or my lack of fine motor skills - the slipper sock ensures that no loud noise disturbs Pontus' sleep.

All glory to the slipper sock!

Grrrrrandparents

Remember my ranting about grandparents the other day?
Here is a great example of what I was talking about:

When I handed over Pontus to his grandfather on Friday he had several sets of fresh clothes with him. When I got him back on Saturday he was wearing a new body that his grandparents had bought and put on him. Unwashed. All of the clothing I had packed down was returned unused.
I always wash clothes I buy for Pontus. Always. I may be a sloppy mother otherwise, but I do not like the idea of my child wearing clothing that is potentially dirty and smells of factory. This rule applies even more so now that he puts everything into his mouth, including his sleeves.
The body he was wearing smelled so strongly of rubber and God-knows-what, I don't know how anyone could even consider putting it on a little baby.

But that was just the beginning.
As a thank you for taking care of Pontus we had offered to drive my parents-in-law out to Dalarö. They were invited to a birthday party there and my husband and I thought that it would be nice to go for a walk by the water after we dropped them off, so everybody squeezed into the car. During the ride my mother-in-law suddenly said: "Oh, I am sure you will all come inside with us to say hello to everyone.". I discreetly motioned to my husband that I was not interested in that and he replied: "No, we are just dropping you off and then we will continue on right away.". To which his mother said: "But Pontus can come in and meet everyone, what's the problem with that?". My husband made it one again very clear that we did not intend to stay and meet anyone, but would simply drop them off and leave again. Nothing more was said about it until we reached our destination.
But as soon as we came to a stop in the driveway, the following scene unfolded: While my mother-in-law got out of the car, my father-in-law, who was sitting in the backset with her, stayed put. He then opened the door on Pontus' side from the inside and remained seated until my mother-in-law had gone around the car and secured the door from the outside. And while my father-in-law got out of the car, my mother-in-law started to call for her friends to come outside to meet Pontus.
My husband and I were sitting in the car, engine running, repeatedly saying that we wanted to leave, while my mother-in-law held the door open, making it impossible for us to drive off, while more and more people appeared. Needless to say that the whole situation made us look bad, but who ever cared about that?

My mother-in-law got her way like she usually does. And she is oh so smug about it. She thinks she is clever, tricking other people into doing what she wants - for her it all seems to be a game. What she does not seem to realize is that she actually hurts others with her behaviour. She is not funny, she is simply disrespectful.
My husband agrees with me, even though he finds it hard to believe that his mother would be invidious on purpose. But no matter if she does it intentionally or not, it just can't continue. He has talked to her about this several times, but she cares as little for what he says as for what I say.
So far I have held back because I think that it is my husband's job to solve issues with his side of the family. And God knows he tried, but to no avail. So I guess it is time to take off the gloves and show my mother-in-law what I go for.
You wanna keep pushing me around? Bring it on...

Why I don't want a stereo with CD player in the kitchen

At home we had a stereo in the kitchen/dining room and the radio was on most of the time. That is unless my father had bought some new CDs which he insisted on playing for the whole family. And his music preferences were and are somewhat out of the ordinary. Experimental jazz, freestyle funkadelic soul and what not - if you wanted any food at all you had to put up with it. To this day it is one of my father's greatest worries that he didn't manage to instill what he would call a good taste in music in any of his children and he often makes playful threats that none of us will get to inherit his music collection. Sometimes he calls and says "Do you know *enterrandomnamehere*? Really, never heard of him? He played in the *anotherrandomname* band. Are you sure you have never heard of him? Well, then today is your lucky day, because I bought his CD for you.", after which he usually reads all of the track names to me and hums some melodies hoping that I maybe do know that artist after all. Yes, it is kind of adorable, but it is also heartbreaking.
History shouldn't repeat itself.

And that's why I don't want a stereo with CD player in the kitchen.

"Why I..."

My husband thinks that a lot of the things he has to listen to should really go "on the blog". While I use "going on the blog" as a fixed expression to put my husband into his place after a misdeed ("That is SO going on the blog!"), what he means by it is that I should stop bothering him and start bothering you. Which is why I now created this new headline under which I will be posting bits of information that will give you a deeper insight into my troubled personality and explain the most of my quirks. Some of it might make me appear mental, but then again that wouldn't probably surprise any of you.

Maternal feelings

Up until 1-2 weeks ago I thought that the absolute worst was my almost complete lack of maternal feelings. Now I know that it is actually a lot worse when the maternal feelings finally do kick in.

For me, there was no maternal bliss after Pontus' birth. I remember lying in the delivery room, looking down at the bloody, meaty bundle on my chest and wondering what on earth I was supposed to do with that thing, a feeling that has not completely left me to this day. The first weeks at home with him were simply surreal.
Babies are tricky. They look like miniature grown-ups but they behave completely unreasonable, you can't argue with them and they don't listen, respond appropriately or cooperate, while at the same time expecting you to tend to their every need 24-7.
Babies are, in short, not people I would hang out with.
But a baby is not only the new roommate from hell, it also brings along its scary sidekick: the grandparents. I have said it before and I will say it again: becoming a grandparent does something to people. It turns perfectly functioning adults into demented nutjobs that lack any kind of common sense. Giving unwanted and often outdated or incompetent advice? Check. Ignoring you and your instructions and wishes regarding the baby? Check. Demanding all kinds of things and sending you on a guilt trip if you don't comply? Check. Making you feel unbearably akward about also being "a mother" now? Check.
Grandparents are, again, not people I would hang out with.

And while this may all sound funny it really isn't. I was realistic enough not to expect to live in a fluffy happy-happy world after the birth, where everybody smiles all the time and every day is better than the one before, but I hadn't anticipated to feel like the odd one out either. And it is easy to feel like that when motherhood seems to come so easy for everyone around and people are uncomfortable talking about how unhappy, overwhelmed and isolated you are.

Things got better a little more than a week ago after I met with a counselor. Not that anything she said helped (we talked past each other most of the time), but it was so good just to get it all out. After venting all the pressure that had been bulding up over the past months, I can finally focus on being the best mediocre mother a child could have and enjoying my time with Pontus. It isn't always easy, but the situation has definitely improved.

Which brings us back to the beginning of this posting: the onset of maternal feelings and how it can make life miserable.
This afternoon I dropped off Pontus at his grandparents, where he will spend the night. This is not the first time he sleeps over, but it is the first time a.o. (after onset). Last time I was just happy, happy, happy that he was gone for the night - this time I did not want to let him go. He hugged me and held on to me and I really wanted to take him with me again. Instead of enjoying my free time I sat on the couch, stuffing my mouth with gummy bears and trying to hold back the tears. And even now I could just jump in the car and go and pick him up.
So is that what it's like to be a mother? Intense love, intense despair, intense frustration, all emotions intensified - is that what it's about?

Freebies

I got a box full of really cool children's books at work yesterday:



And to make sure that Pontus won't have to read alone I got a whole pile of thrillers for myself as well.
Brand-new books for free - yes, my job has its perks!