Family: do we have to keep them?

Today, my lovely sister accused me of loving Gosling more than Critterbug. Her reasoning? I buy her lots of clothes, and I make her food from scratch instead of buying it all in jars. Uh.... right.

Clothes: Critterbug is 5 (in 2 weeks!! EEK!!!) and has too many clothes already. He has so many shirts I've run out of hangers for his wardrobe. He also has some sitting in the storage room waiting for present-times, to replace ones in his wardrobe that are a mite too small. The thing is, at 5 years old he grows slower than a baby, and therefor doesn't need new clothes as often as a baby does. Gosling however grows like a weed. I have bought her a lot of clothes, but she's already grown out of 3 or 4 sizes since she was born, and a lot of what I've bought is in larger sizes - I bought it cheap so I don't have to pay full price when I need it, and its sitting in her dresser waiting till she grows again. Theres also the fact that some babies tend to need a lot of clothes because they have explosive nappies, or they throw up a lot. She does both.

Food: It is significantly cheaper to make food for Gosling than it is to buy it. What would cost me $11 on sale in jars can be made for about $2, a couple hours in the oven, and 5 minutes with a blender and icecube trays. I wish I had realised this when Critter was tiny, and had had the confidence in myself to actually do it. Because while my mother loved to tell us how she never bought jarred food for us kids, and always ground up our food at every meal, she never once offered to help me or show me how to do it, and as depressed as I was, I didn't think I could do it anyway. I mashed sweet potato for him a couple of times, but that was about it.

My sister says a lot of things that bother me, and usually I can ignore them, but this one has really got to me. Probably because I'm so scared that people might think its true. I don't love Gosling any more than I love my Critter, and I don't give her any more attention that I give him (i neglect them both equally. (JOKE! that was a joke people!!)), excepting that she's a tiny baby and unable to do things for herself like toileting and feeding, but I do treat her differently than I treated him when he was her age, because of the depression.

After Critterbug was born, I was so depressed I could hardly function. I contemplated suicide more than a few times, firmly believing that no-one would miss me, and that my husband and newborn son would be better off without me anyway. There were days when I would just sit, staring at the baby as he screamed and screamed, not caring. He was fed, he was clean, I had taken care of the basics, and he didn't want me to hold him, so I just stared, and thought "yeah.. so?" There are times now when I don't know what to do with Gosling. When she's been fed and changed, needs a sleep, doesn't want to be held, but screams when I put her down, and I end up just walking away, but I care. I keep an ear out to make sure she doesn't get too distressed, and I rack my brains trying to think if I've not thought of something. I don't hover over her when I know I cant do anything about it, but it makes my soul hurt listening to her cry. I don't just sit and stare at her, vaguely wondering why she's crying, but not caring enough to try and fix it.

I am constantly amazed at how relatively easy things have been this time round, and am incredibly thankful. She nurses easily, she eats with no problems and doesn't appear to be afflicted with allergies, she usually sleeps for 7+ hours in a row at night, and is generally cheerful. I have not been sent down the dark road this time, and having done it all before, I have more confidence in my abilities as a mother, too. I have enjoyed my Critter as a child, so much it makes my heart want to burst, but I merely experienced him as a baby. Now, I am enjoying having a baby for the first time, and I'm loving it.

Then my sister goes and ruins everything, and leaves me feeling like I'm being selfish for finding joy in things like pureeing food, or finding cheap clothes for my children.

Sometimes, I really wish we could choose our family.

Rambling in a non-creative manner about creativity, creatively. Creative, creative, creative. CREATIVE.

This photo is TOTALLY UNRETOUCHED. I have NO idea how it did that, as my boys where out without me when they took the photo. Maybe it was through funky glass?? But anyway, thats how my brain feels today, and thats my excuse for the disjointedness of this.

Our camera died. First one of the reclining chairs ate it and it got all squashed and scratched up in the metal workings, then I left it on a bed and it somehow ended up 3 metres away on the floor under a chest of drawers.

It stopped working.

It would cost more to fix than to replace.

We bought a better one off ebay.

For less than the old one cost to begin with.

But its not here yet.

Why am I starting each new sentence in a new paragraph?

My english teachers would disown me.

So would my mother, who is also an english teacher.

ANYWAY. With no camera, I've been unable to take the million photos per day that I usually take, and have had to find a different creative (nearly choked on that word.. I so am not) outlet. Hello Sewing. Also Knitting.

I found some gorgeous wool (Mostly wool. Partly bamboo, partly soy. Also, how do they make yarn from MILK?????) super-cheap at Spotlight last time my mum was in town, and bought a bunch of it to make a blanket for Gosling (Spaceghost is now Gosling, btw). I am a Brand New knitter, and as such it is taking A VERY LONG TIME, but so far, I haven't managed to make any mistakes. So YAY.

I've also got a lovely purple shirt I'm ripping apart to make a dress for Gosling. I'm bridesmaid in a wedding at the beginning of November, and while this means I don't have to think about clothes for myself, I do have to figure out how to dress the rest of my family, since the bride insists everyone Get Dressed Up. This is easy enough for the boys - Hubby has a suit, and Critter does now too, thanks to $20 well spent at an op-shop - but what do I dress a 9 month old in, at the beginning of summer, thats dressy enough for a Formal wedding, but not so Special that I cry when she covers it in avocado and banana (have you noticed how badly banana stains??? ugh) and then has an explosive nappy? Hence a second hand shirt and a sewing machine, instead of a frothy satin concoction from a shop.

Still on the sewing front, I've been getting increasingly annoyed at my wallet and its lack of separate pockets. I like to pull our grocery money out each week and pay cash instead of sticking it on our debit card, so I always know how much we've spent. But the lack of different pockets in my wallet means that all the money gets mixed up together. Mum gave me money for my birthday, and I'm losing track of how much I've got left because I keep spending it on other things, because I CANNOT KEEP IT SEPARATE. Sooooooooooooooo, I'm trying to make myself a wallet type folder with lots of separate zippered off pockets to keep my separate money in. I've already hacked an older file folder down to size, and I'm on the search for decent fabric to cover it and make pockets.

The only thing really holding me back on the sewing front is my fear of the sewing machine. The overlocker (serger) doesn't scare me, and when we ran out of wipes last week and it was raining too much for me to go to the shops, I used it to make myself some cloth wipes from some old face washers and a flannel wrap of Gosling's that we never used because it was kite-shaped. They worked quite well actually. Terry towelling works very well for the gripping, and a spray bottle of chamomile tea helped wash off excess. Now that I've made them, I really should keep using them.

But the sewing machine... well, maybe I'll be less scared of it the more I sew. Just need to find the right coloured thread, and then I can get started!

Fighting those jealous feelings

My husband and I got married when I was six months pregnant with Critterbug. Now, while obviously we didn't wait for marriage*, I did wait for him. He was my first, and will hopefully be my only (since for him not to be, one of three horrible things has to happen). I was not, however, his first, and sometimes that bothers me.

I know all about his priors. Who, when, where. While some women prefer not to know details, my curiosity is far too strong, and I just had to know what I was up against. I also get a giggle out of his stories, and it gives me an insight into who he was, and therefor who he is. It doesn't bother me knowing about these other women. I know he loves me, I know he chose me, and I know that no matter his previous experiences, he wants to wake up every morning with me. But sometimes I get jealous.

There are women out there who have a piece of my husband that I will never have. Women he knew before he ever met me, women who make up a part of his life that I will never be a part of. Oddly though, its not them that I'm mostly jealous of (although there are occasional twinges). When we started going out, he was almost 23, and had calmed down a lot from his teenage partying days (he has calmed down even more since then). They knew the boy, I married the man. I think I got the better end of the deal. And to be jealous of them, I also have to be jealous of everyone else who knew him before I did. His best friend, who he's know since 5th grade. His mate he rented his first apartment with. The girl he had a crush on in high school, who only thought of him as a friend. And yes, there are occasional twinges of jealousy there too, but they are fleeting, mere wishes that I could have known him longer.

Who I'm really jealous of though, is those women who aren't in this situation at all. Those who never thought "how do I compare?" because there was nothing to compare to. Those who never thought "wait.. what number does this make me?" because they knew they were the first. Those who have never experienced any of the thoughts that have gone through my head over the last 6 years.

I wouldn't choose any other man to be married to, but sometimes I wish our lives had been a little different.



*This is something I both regret, and don't, at the same time. I regret that I was disobedient to God, but I most certainly do NOT regret the consequences of my disobedience: my son, directly caused by the disobedience; my marriage, fast-tracked because of my pregnancy (my husband believes in loooooooooooooooooooong engagements. like 3 or 4 years kind of long); moving back to Australia; my daughter; my husband's current job, necessitating a move for us out of the city. I struggle with this dichotomy of my feelings, but in the end I figure if God has forgiven my transgressions, I need to just forget about it and move on.