Strange Machines

There must have been an invite I missed out on cos tonight is apparently a nightwaking party. Every hour the kids would take turns waking. Nurse them each to bed. Sneak off to comp. Howl goes another kid. Sigh. I think I know why my name wasn’t on that list now.

Hubby fixed this $59 unfinished solid pine cupboard from Ikea and Wolf and I painted it. I liked the used look but am pondering painting another layer over it to look more finished. We will put a layer of beeswax over it after. That’s as natural as we can get for furniture around here.

Wolf draws Wolf and Mom. Mom is a baker and Wolf is an elf with deer antlers and ears.

It seems like since I became a mom I had to overcome many of my fears in order to be a hero to my children. One of them was getting over my fear of roaches.

I used to flee at the sight of a roach but now I have to arm myself with a newspaper and swat it till it is dead. The spray is only allowed if:

1. The roach is unreachable by newspaper.
2. Can find way quickly to the bedroom.
3. Washable area.

After all that stuff is poisonous to everyone and the environment but I have made peace with myself for using it only one out of 20 roaches if at all after trying virtually every safe and environmental method out there but failed miserably.

I have had to resort to roach poison traps which they bring back to their nests and that has been the only way they can be stopped. That and swatting the live ones.

Last night I had to take out 3, rolled up newspaper in hand. Wolf was very proud of me in the morning.

My best friend Shen just gave me a great idea for painting when you have 2 kids. You see, since Kitten was mobile, we stopped all painting activities at home because she would just get into the paint and eat it. So Shen, who has two as well, had a great idea of having her son paint in the shower. The bonus is that Wolf would be contained.

It doesn’t feel like I ever sleep at all. Maybe it is because I’d spent the last few nights up doing the migration and every hour running to the bedroom to nurse one or more children back to sleep.

When I finally hit the bed I pass out till one or more kids wake up and the night nursing dance begins again.

When will I sleep again, I don’t know. But it is someday and for now, I wearily sniff my babies’ sweet cheeks and hair and work on enjoying these precious moments.

Everybody loves coffee. Even a whiff gets me going.

I was on the receiving end of a couple of rude comments lately while complaining about the lack of freedom I have right now. The comments were along the line of “you chose to have children so you shouldn’t complain”.

Let me say this now: you are entitled to complain. It is a safety valve. Everyone needs to vent. You are entitled to complain. People who keep their frustrations inside either go mad and/or kill themselves or hurt others when they explode one day.

The argument against complaining is akin to saying:

You chose to work so you shouldn’t complain.

You chose to get married so you shouldn’t complain.

You wore a short skirt and got groped by a gross stranger so you shouldn’t complain.

Caring about someone means listening to him or her and sharing their pain and not being judgemental or taking it personally. Remember, you too are entitled to complain.

Yes, we are still tandem nursing and some nights like tonight, the kids literally take turns waking and by morning I would have barely slept at all.

I’m criticised a lot for this, especially in a society where most women don’t breastfeed past a month. Wolf gets the brunt of it for still nursing at 3+.

But as I read other blogs where moms practice peaceful parenting (well more peaceful than me), self-weaning is the natural way to go.

Critics had similar reservations about his potty training, even commenting he would be in diapers till he was 10. But one day he just decided he was ready for the toilet himself and he never looked back.

I believe for nursing it will be the same.

For now I will enjoy our nursing relationship as long as he cares to continue, knowing one day he won’t need to curl up in my arms to nurse anymore.

It is easy to be pensive and philosophical this late at night. The brain practically demands it.

Wrote NAK.

Kitten on Mom’s arm, Mom, Dad, and Wolf.