Standing up for myself and my capacity to mother. (aka ‘Fuck your helpful suggestions, matey.’)


The past few days I have been getting increasingly nervous about whether I will be able to care for the babies myself. Including this week, I have three more weeks with Mil (a story in itself), and then a little over a week with my mom. Then it’s Existere City, all me, all the time. Even if I was well I think it would be a challenge, but I also think that after I got a few days under my belt, my confidence would grow and it would be fine.

But this blinking SPD. Had two mini-relapses this week. Have decided to basically say ‘fuck it’ – am still taking things easy, but planning to ask the physio tomorrow if pain is just pain, or if pain is indicative of something worse. I am turning into a career invalid, and I want to halt that in its tracks. For god’s sake, we went into town yesterday for about an hour, and I was in the wheelchair. (Only have that fucker till Oct 1 – a blessing and a curse to have a deadline.) After 60 minutes drinking caffeinated things, eating cake, and getting pushed around, I was so worn out you would have thought I’d been digging ditches all day.

Not cool.

My babies are wonderful, though. I think I have decided on blog pseudonyms, which is exciting. I do want to share their real names with longterm readers who are clearly not weirdo stalkers, but haven’t decided how to do so yet. Post a picture of them with their names and make it a private post? A mass email?

While I have never been a blogger who tries to get ‘fans’ or an ‘audience,’ and I also am not someone who finds it helpful to segregate different parts of my life into different journals, I can see the appeal in this one limited area. Were I not ‘out’ as a counsellor/therapist on this site – and possibly going to write about that again in future, assuming I ever do anything other than LOVE MY BABIES – I still am not keen on any identifying details being on here. A far cry from previous blogs, where I was like some sort of limelight exhibitionist hooker. (Incidentally, I’ll whore myself out. If you want to read my most recent old blog, leave a comment and I’ll give you the address and password. It’s good times.)


The whole point of this entry was to say that as of this morning I Am Ready. Yes, I am in pain. Yes, my back is clicking and clacking and generally I am as well put together as that dude from the game ‘Operation’ when he is missing his rubber band that holds some random joint of his in place.

But my Mil? Fucking hell.

I want to do this on my own. I want to be able to hold the babies when I want to hold them, give them some socialisation and entertainment (and constantly being told to just ‘let them lie – they are fine’ is GRATING on me). I am too nice to out and out defy her, but have just done so regarding when my own mother arrives. Mil wanted to stay to ‘give me a hand with the babies,’ and then leave when my mom appeared. No offense to Mil, but her ass would stick around and around because she loves talking. I see my mom once a year if I am lucky, for about a week, and I don’t want any interlopers.

Ungrateful Bitch, party of one, your table is ready for you.

Perhaps I need to be more forceful. Mil being around is making me feel all childlike and incompetent – and angry at myself for not being clear and straightforward about what I want for my children. But the fact remains that I am unable to properly care for them at the moment, and she is invaluable. With two adults here, they each get singleton cuddles and conversations – something I very much want for them.

I picked Mano up this morning and walked about ten steps with him, and my freakin’ c section went mental and blood shot out of my cootch. Just thought you would like to know.

So. Suggestions on giving you the babies’ real names (only if you promise to not share them in comments)?? Let rip. I also want to write about what happened last night, but really need to poop while I am alone in the house for this brief moment. And maybe gobble some Oreos if I have the time.


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7 Responses to “Standing up for myself and my capacity to mother. (aka ‘Fuck your helpful suggestions, matey.’)”

  1. 2momswithaplan Says:

    I’m sorry to hear that the MIL is giving you issues. Sometimes you just have to be a ‘bitch’ for people to get the point. I hope the right words find you soon!

    As for the names – well I already know them and love the names! πŸ™‚ I guess I’m just special in that way. lol

    And finally – yes I would be interested in reading your other blog – it will really help me to read where you have come from, knowing where you are today. πŸ™‚ Blogs like yours give me hope!

  2. ninefirefly Says:

    Ooooo I want other bloggy goodness! My mother is the same way with our baby. She makes me feel like a 14 year old with a doll, “Let her be she’s fine – don’t pick her up all the time”, “You should diaper her this way”, “Don’t brush her hair.” Grrrr. She’s relentless so I totally feel your pain. I just ignore her and I’m hoping eventually she’ll get it. I don’t know a good way to reveal the names (I never figured one out so I just never revealed her name.) Maybe a mass email.

  3. Tatiana Says:

    you pick up your babies whenever the hell you want. I remember Maia falling asleep in my arms while my MIL was here. MIL kept saying “you can put her down, you know?” and I just smiled, said I knew, and held her til she wok up.

    Your babies will not always want to be held… so hold them!

  4. Jenny Says:

    I here you on the MIL front… it is exasperating. We too get told how to do details, like, “you’re giving him your finger to suck on wrong, you need to do it the other way around”. (Seriously?! Yes, seriously. Who knew? We thought if the baby was happy, it was working fine!)

    But, remember, the helpful “advice” comes from a place of LOVE. And, if it weren’t this, the alternative would be not caring and not wanting to be involved in their grandchildren’s lives.

    So, grin and bear it and use it for the helpful aspects, and remember that YOU AND TMD ARE THE MOMS and therefore, YOU are in charge, and any family coming to help out are therefore there to do YOUR bidding. That means calmly and nicely sticking to your guns in the instances where it matters to you, and it also means letting some stupid stuff you don’t really care about go. In fact, I would practice finding some obscure issue that you really don’t care about and then asking your MIL for advice. This worked wonders for us. We asked about stuff like how many layers of clothing on a particular day and when to change diapers.

  5. CJ Says:

    I used to have two blogs as well, one locked and one public. Some things just aren’t appropriate in mixed blog company! I would love to read the other one, if you’re okay with that.

    As for the MIL, it’s a hard line to balance gratitude and wanting to punch someone in the face sometimes. Hang in there!

  6. Jenny Says:

    PS – I want to see the other blog, please!

  7. Jinxy Says:

    I was going to say the same thing as Tatiana. Hold your babies if and when you want to. They are only this size once, enjoy it.

    The blood shooting is lots of fun. That damn c-section screws with your body in some weird ways.

    Of course I’d love to read about your antics from before.

    I have no help on the baby names.

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