The Barrier by Shankari Chandran

The Barrier by Shankari Chandran


I have read some spoilers for this already and I cannot wait to get my paws on an actual copy! Only another month til it's release! Wheeee!


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Lived experience

I've been meaning to write about tattoos, but an assignment I'm doing on the difference between grief, sadness and depression and a lecture I went to this morning have me thinking. The idea of the lecture was to give student nurses an insight into mental illness that we may not otherwise get, a lived experience story from the point of view of a 'consumer' and that of a carer. Jayne Newling came to speak with us. She lost one son to mental illness when he took his own life and both of her other sons have lived with mental illness and now consider themselves recovered. Jane has a journalist background and wrote a book called Missing Christopher that looks brilliant. I have it and plan on reading as soon as study is over for the semester.

I'm going to cry when I read the book. I know I am because I cried during the talk today. I wasn't doing ladylike eye-dabbing, my body was vibrating with silent sobs and I was worried that snot would drip down my face coz I didn't want to disturb the room by blowing my nose. There were a lot of tears in the room so I didn't feel terrible, but it wasn't great.

Part of the reason it was so difficult for me to listen to was that I saw it from both sides. I am a mother to two boys and I'm deeply sure that my biggest role in life is to protect my boys from harm, and give them the tools to deal with the bad times when they come along. There is a history of mental illness in their family (not only me!) which increases the likelihood of them suffering from mental illness and the death of a child, is every parents worst nightmare. If you are a parent reading this there is every chance you will get a lump in your throat just reading this, let alone having someone tell you the details of their child's suicide.

Then there is the other side: I was a child with mental illness. I don't remember a time when I didn't at least toy with ideas of my own death, and by 10 (yep, ten years old) I had not just thought about taking my own life, I had a very concrete plan. I was too little to be able to have much agency, but the one lethal thing I had access too was heights. At age 10 my father was living in a 7th story apartment and I would go out on to the balcony and try and work out if I would definitely die if I jumped off. I thought I probably would but I didn't know how to get a definitive answer - if I asked someone they might see/guess my plan and remove access. I thought adults could pretty much read my mind. The time I remember getting very close to going through with it was summer, the window was open, my brother was asleep but I was awake and unhappy. I climbed from my bunk to the window and sat in the gaping window. One leg hung down inside the room and the other was hugged to my body. My head was under the level of the open window, my scrawny little bottom fit comfortably on the flat of the sill, half in and half out. I remember so clearly being desperate to end my life, believing that the world's population was already too big (remember this is around '83 and we had just come out of fears about peak oil etc) and that we could just fix that with all the people who didn't want to be alive being able to die. Euthanasia.

The big question is what stopped me, what are protective factors for a 10 year old? For me there were two things: fear of failure and preemptive guilt over the pain I would cause my mother. The horror of having to face my family after failing at suicide made me sick with anxiety (and still does) and the thought of my mother living without a child of hers was too sad (and still is).

The rest of my childhood is a dysthymic haze. There was anxiety, bullying, perfectionism, guilt, isolation and then some things that brought joy - connection to friends and family and anytime I managed a sense of self-efficacy (oh how little things have changed for me!). My next episode of serious suicidality was at 16/17, then again at 21, then 26/27 (that one was bad and lasted over a year), 28 (when I got my first diagnosis). Then things were up and down, with bouts of premenstrual dysphoric disorder until I was postnatally depressed at 33 and then depressed again at 37. By 42, last year, I ended up only feeling safe in hospital. Now I am in remission, or as the current best-practice term has it, recovery. I'm mostly happy, I deal with everyday stressors but don't really feel recovered, I feel like the meds I take and the self care I do keep me well for the moment, but if something comes along that messes with what is important for me I could get sick again. Anytime something crashes into my feelings of self-efficacy or the connection I have with those close to me, I can't promise my brain won't slide off into the crazy again.

So what is this history lesson in aid of? Jayne Newling and her son Nic strongly feel that talking about mental illness, including experiences of illness will help people get more and better help, younger, and this will save lives. Nic worked for the Black Dog Institute and has recently set up a group called the Champions. There is no way to know how much easier my life might have been if I had been diagnosed and given good help when I was a kid. Imagine if I wasn't totally terrified of telling people that I hated my life so much I wanted to end it. Maybe I did and they thought it was just a strange kid-thing? I now wish I could have told my loving and supportive parents. Admittedly, they were busy with their divorce and new lives and I didn't want to be a hassle. Yep, I was 10 and thought telling my parents I was suicidal would be an unnecessary burden for them. I don't want any other child to feel that, and I don't want any other parent to live with the guilt that my mother has lived with, since she's known how depressed I was and that she couldn't do anything to help.

In my own way, at a personal level, I have been doing the same kind of work as The Champions - sharing bits of my story and creating a community of like minded people who have lived experience or 'loved one experience' where 'R U OK' is an everyday question and where people feel safe and supported when they admit that they really are not OK  (I like to call this group my 'friends'). If I can normalize this within my own little sphere of influence then just maybe it can spread. I want to end this by thanking my near and dear ones; for coming with me, for letting me out you, for outing me and for always having my back.

To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow

"To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow" is allegedly a quote by Audrey Hepburn. It sounds twee to me, even when I imagine it in her voice, but there is a really interesting current of truth running through it. I was weeding the other day and realised that if there was one thing I would recommend to anyone with what are coyly titled 'mental health challenges' it would be gardening.

I feel dealing with mental health challenges might be an area where I have something to add. I have always been interested in mood, thinking and feeling. I am studying mental health nursing at the moment, I have close friends and family who suffer from mental illnesses, varying in both type and severity and I have what gets termed 'lived experience' as well (if I were a therapist I would interrupt to ask me why I needed to justify myself. This is my blog, I shouldn't feel the need to recite credentials and yet.... Why?)

Anyhow, there are a bunch of things that are commonly agreed to promote good mental health, with the potential to aid in managing mental illness and promoting recovery

• Adequate exercise
• Appropriate sleep
• Diet - plenty of fibre, not too much sugar or saturated fat
• Avoiding alcohol and recreational drugs
• Medication as prescribed
• A sense of connection
• A sense of self-efficacy
• Mindfulness/meditation

And I actually think that gardening helps with every single one of these. Exercise is obvious to anyone who has ever been in a garden but sleep is more interesting. I know when I was very depressed sometimes I could get myself into the garden in the morning. Morning sunlight is thought to assist with regulating mood and daylight, again, especially morning light, helps to regulate circadian rhythms. If you find it hard to wake up in the day and impossible to sleep all night (common in situations of emotional distress) daylight can help, which means gardening can help, because gardening is a reason to be out in the daylight.
When you are gardening, grow veggies. If you can't grow veggies then grow herbs. It just might help you eat if that is difficult for you and if eating is too easy then having dirty fingers/grubby gloves means it's easier to pause. It's also easier to concentrate on the goodness of your food, rather than getting caught up in it's emotional value if you cook fresh food with herbs you grow yourself.
Gardening is never going to knock out your substance abuse habit or convince you to take the meds that cut your highs and lows and make you feel flat. Spending time in 'nature' is well known to increase feelings of connectedness and gardening is no different. It can increase feelings of self-efficacy too. Self-efficacy was one of the most important things when I was really depressed and anxious. I felt I couldn't DO anything, particularly anything that made a positive difference. Having seeds germinate, protecting a seedling from snails or staking a tomato plant was an observable thing, and I did it. It mattered to the plants.
Like exercise, mindfulness and meditation are a part of gardening. Weeding requires a type of mindful concentration but allows for meditative states. My lovely wise mother tells me that all the biggest decisions of her life were made while weeding. I tell my kids that it's a bit like playing the type of repetitive puzzle games that I play - I play them compulsively when I'm falling apart.

I could probably provide scholarly references for all of that but what I can't back up, but know in my bones, is that gardening helps. When my life is spinning wildly out of control, I can work methodically to get the clovers out of the lawn. When study stress is threatening to take over my life I joke to my uni friends about procrastigardening, Weeding is a relatively healthy and functional way to channel compulsivity, a manic episode could see trees pruned, lawns mowed, and who knows what built while depression might see nothing worse than more weeds than normal. This is starting to read like an impassioned plea for more community gardens and for employee flexi time for gardening but I actually think those things would enable us to handle our stressful lives a bit better.

So this thinking all came about when I was gardening the other day. I was actually marveling at how things are growing, even in the depths of winter, and pondering the wonderfulness of my terrific friends. My friends (you know who you are) are the people who would help me hide the bodies - both metaphorically and also possibly literally. I was thinking about how they pop up like four leaf clovers, lucky, rare and precious. I pick four leaf clovers when I find them, and feel smug and lucky, a similar feeling I have about my wonderful support network. As I was thinking these nice but somewhat self-congratulatory thoughts I came across a FIVE LEAF CLOVER. Never seen that one before!

This slightly chewed, odd, mutant miracle is for D.

Nursing Prac - the reflection that I couldn't submit to uni

This prac has been a game changer for me.

I've always been a bit 'nursey' - black humour and can talk about gross things at mealtimes. I have endless relatives in nursing and a few of my friends are nurses but over the last three weeks I feel like I've started my induction into a whole new world. It's not just the stuff people talk about - naked bodies and bad smells, although I guess that's part of it. It's not just that I was useful and made a difference to a few people's days, although that was pretty important to me too. It's something else, that I'm finding much harder to put my finger on.

When you become a parent you are generally pretty blindsided. Although people talk about it, you hear the jokes, you know there is going to be sleepless nights and dirty nappies and you hope with gritted teeth that you are going to love the little thing when it arrives. But nothing, no amount of pet-ownership, nannying, teaching, reading or siblings can prepare you for the visceral reality of it. I remember back in the early days talking with my wise mum mates, lamenting the fact that no one prepared us and coming to the conclusion that no one told us because there is no combination of words that can make those feeling make sense. There is simply no way to warn anyone else of the horror and the joy of it all. I suspect it is this, multiplied by many, without the social approval and the vast proportion of the population that go through it, that prevents so many veterans from talking about their experiences in the way. No words can convey the fullness of the reality.

And finally, here I am, being admitted to the only club of which I have always wanted to be a member, without understanding there was a club or what membership entailed. I do look at naked bodies differently now (FYI old bottoms are strikingly similar, everything else is surprisingly unique) but I'm more interested in their skin tone and their abilities than their shape, whether I'm going to be able to manage whatever I'm doing without tearing skin that has become tissue paper fragile with age; whether they are going to be able to lean forward so I can wash their bottom without them standing; and how I can best help these people maintain their dignity in the most undignified of situations. As for the bad smells, I use the advice of my mother, wise old nurse that she is: breathe through your mouth. I am also in favour of surreptitiously chewing minty gum.

But the other part was the amazing part, bodies and dignity I always knew I could manage, but how to manage my own feelings when someone old and in pain gazes into my eyes, not knowing who I am, except that I am in a nurses role, and asks pleadingly 'when am I going to die' (I replied with 'I don't know' - that was over a week ago and she is still alive, but is rarely conscious now. She has no visitors so I never worked out where the garden-fresh roses or gardenias in the little vase near her bed came from). What can I say when people say 'I really don't know why I'm here' and you don't either, except they forgot they had the same conversation with you yesterday. And every day before that. So I concentrated on being my very own tiny-but-strong force for good - taking my time when I moisturize battered old legs to give the gentlest leg massage in the world, using two teaspoons of instant when making coffee for the lady who I know likes it extra strong and reciting any tiny snippets of any old poems that I can dredge up out of my memory (Ogden Nash is a favourite!).

For the record, in the 'reflection' I was required to do for my assessment, I did the written equivalent of mumbling about wound dressings and how I want to improve my aseptic technique. That isn't actually wrong, I do want to improve, but really, that's like asking a veteran about the war and being told that whenever he got new boots he got blisters. Important in it's own way, but missing the point.

Not a Joke

Question: What did the penis say to the hairdresser?
Answer: Absolutely nothing.

It's the hair on heads we are talking about here, not genital hair, OK, so the presence or absence of a specific set of genitalia has nothing at all to do with haircuts. Right? Are you with me so far? Not too complex really. Here is another not-joke for you:

Customer: Can I have a haircut please?
Hairdresser: Have you got a penis?

See, I told you. Not funny. But a situation like this happened to my friend today, and I need to rant.

My friend has short hair, exists mostly wearing jeans and tshirts and is often covered, to a greater or lesser extent, in paint. In fact the paint is often the most memorable feature - I asked at a local cafe is they remembered my friend coming in for coffee and it was when I said "covered in paint" that their eyes lit with recognition and they said 'strong latte no sugar!' or some such. Because unsurprisingly the lovely staff at the cafe are more interested in what someone's regular coffee order is than what genitals they have.

Back to hairdresser. My friend is a woman. She doesn't like labels for herself, but the labels other people ascribe to her might include woman, girl, lesbian, queer, genderqueer, gay, gender non-binary, dyke butch, possibly boi and definitely the one she really hates, shorty (I think she is over five foot tall, but not by a whole lot). She occasionally gets mistaken for a young man. She has pretty short hair. Today she walked into a hairdresser that advertised $12 haircuts for men with very little money in her pocket and asked for a boys haircut. The hairdresser gave her a haircut but charged her for a 'ladies' haircut. She didn't have the money, was told to use her credit card, and to add insult to injury was told the business charged a $2 fee for credit card payment.

In whose world is this OK? In whose world is it OK to charge my brother with his handsome, long, curly, difficult hair (and penis) one price but my friend with her handsome, short, straight, neat  hair (and vagina) a higher price? It's not OK in my world!

The anti-discrimination board clearly states that:

Sex discrimination is against the law... ...when you get or try to get most types of goods or services – for example, from shops, banks, lawyers, government departments, the police, public transport, local councils, doctors, hospitals and other medical services, hotels, sporting venues and entertainment venues; 

from the Anti-discrimination Board of NSW sex-discrimination fact sheet 

So this behavior is not OK in NSW law, either.

(Here endeth my rant, but if this, or something like this, has happened to you and you want to make a complaint but need some not-a-lawyer support, let me know and I'll be so happy to help you out)

Group Therapy - R U OK DAY?

**TRIGGER WARNING - discussion of mental illness, anxiety, depression and suicidal thoughts**

For those that don't know, these recent posts have been coming to you from a nice private psychiatric hospital. This came about because after fronting to my psychiatrist appointment and sitting there for my allotted time sobbing about how it was all too much and too rotten, and how it wasn't really and I hated myself for feeling this way because I knew that nothing had really changed, but my feelings had. I live with a fair amount of background anxiety and depression, and it had slid into a major depressive episode without me really realizing it. Happily, we got to it before it got to it's worst (I know how bad it gets, and this was not a 'rock bottom' scenario). Anyhow, my meds have been sorted, we have a plan for care going forward and I've had great care from the psychiatrist, psychologist and nursing staff and, despite some trepidation, I'm ready to go home tomorrow.

Why start talking about this now? Good question, thanks for asking! Today is R U OK day. I have had some wonderful people (friends, family and professionals) recognize that sometimes I am most definitely NOT OK and as a direct result I have been able to get treatment. I'm now at a point where I am more-or-less OK, and more to the point, comfortable sharing my experience. My hope is that there will be a critical mass of stories so experiences of mental illness are normalized and personalized to such an extent that getting treatment will be standard. In doing this I want to in no way diminish the horrible suffering caused by mental ill-health, I just want to remind people in pain that they have the right to seek treatment, whether they are currently coping or not.

Here is the short version: Ever since I can remember I have had periods of depression and anxiety. I started thinking about and planning suicide at eight. I had good days and bad days, good years and bad years. I got a formal diagnosis in my twenties (I went home and cried about that. For a week). I had postnatal depression after the birth of my first child (or was it just another depressive episode? I'll never know). When it I started to worry about my anxiety and depression effecting my kids I got serious about treatment and since then I've had several years of therapy and about five years of medication. Now I can add a few new medications and a short inpatient stay to that list. Going forward there will be more therapy, including DBT, a few lifestyle changes (including more exercise and 100 days dry) and of course, meds.

The other big one is how I explain this stuff to my kids? At 9 and 6 my two boys know there is something going on, and I respect them too much to lie to them. At the same time I definitely don't want to upset them so I explained, just two nights before I came in to hospital, that I was sick. I told them that last time I was sick it was my tummy, and I went in to hospital and when my belly was well enough I came home. This time it was my thinking and feeling that was the problem so I was going to a hospital that would help me get my thinking and feeling back to normal. They seemed OK about it at the time and they have been OK about it since - a lot more understanding than most adults, to be fair. In fact the little one got a lift home with a friend the other day and she told me he had been explaining things to her kids in the car. He said "Mum's brain is Out Of Control" (complete with whatever arm movements signified an out-of-control brain to an imaginative six year old). I think he nailed it.

Now, go look at a website like Black Dog Institute or Beyond Blue and read and learn something new (no matter who you are I PROMISE you can learn something from these sites) and then consider what you are going to do. Are you going to get yourself some help? Could you ask a friend or family member if they are OK? Can you afford to donate to one of these organizations? Or are you just going to smile at someone on the train or walking through the shops tomorrow?

Mental illness (nope, I don't have mental health at the moment)

I've been thinking a lot about ideas around accepting help, asking for help contrasted with autonomy and self-reliance in the context of mental illness. In my own self-critical way I told myself to shut-up and deal with the fact I need help, that to get it I need to ask for it, I don't need to 'prove' I need it and receiving help is difficult and weird but I'm going to have to get used to it. Thinking about this, and thinking about the process of getting better made me draw some analogies with the equivalent process when recovering from physical illness or injury. I used physical illness and recovery as a metaphor for mental illness with a friend and it seemed to be useful, so I thought I'd flesh out those ideas a bit.

In the acute stage of, say, a sprained ankle you need to take meds (anti-inflammatories, pain meds), rest and elevate the ankle, use ice and compression. You will probably need some help with what healthcare professionals call 'activities of daily living' (ADLs) because you can't and shouldn't use that ankle to hobble around to look after yourself. In the acute stage of mental illness you may need meds (which might be different to your usual meds), you need to rest (sometimes resting your thinking and feeling parts requires meds. A chemical compression bandage, if you will) and sometimes you need help with ADLs. You may be able to walk ok but the part that needs rest is the thinking and feeling part, so making decisions, sometimes even simple everyday decision like which tshirt to wear or what to have on your toast, become totally overwhelming.

In order to help a friend in this situation don't just offer to make them toast, say 'I'd like to make you toast, is Vegemite ok or would you prefer honey?' BUT if they say they don't want toast you MUST respect their autonomy (or make the toast but reassure them you won't be offended if they don't eat it - it's like the great post on consent and cups of tea)

Even when these things are possible they might take a lot longer than normal (so don't expect your depressed friend to turn up anywhere on time, and don't give them a hard time for being late, they have almost certainly already done that for themselves).

At some point the acute stage morphs into the recovery stage. With physical injuries this is the point where, if you have sort help from a medical professional, the physio might have given you a bunch of exercises to do. What questions should you ask the physio? How often should I do the exercises, will it hurt or will there just be some discomfort? When should I start to feel better and get full function back? How long will it take me to heal? What are the SMART goals of treatment? What is the long term prognosis?  These questions can and should be asked of mental health professionals. For sure these questions are more difficult in the field of mental health than physical injuries and ailments but it's really important that if you have a therapist you are on the same page with respect to these things. If you aren't recieving treatment and/or don't have a therapist it's just as important to try to work out where you want to be. A psychologist/psychiatrist/therapist may give you specific exercises - what is cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) but a series of mental exercises. If you doubt this stuff works, or can work for you (which is pretty normal for depressed people) look up the research. If that is too difficult/personal/scary/etc look up brain plasticity (I liked 'The Brain that Changes Itself' by Norman Doidge) and pense on the fact that brains are incredibly powerful - if you can re-wire your brain after massive trauma then we can probably do some of the re-wiring necessary to be able to live and manage our mental illnesses.

Everybody says it, few people do it but WRITE DOWN* YOUR QUESTIONS. Doing this can be really hard when you are in the black pit of despair or when you are so anxious that you are worried about being able to keep breathing, so cut yourself some slack if you can't manage it. You could also enlist the help of a friend to do this. In fact, I have a few close friends and all of us suffer to a greater or lesser extend from mental illness. When we sense someone might be struggling we will often offer to help them make a list. Along the same lines, take a pen and paper to your appointment and try to write a few things down. Even if you ask the therapist what you should write down, it means when you walk out and suddenly realize you have very little memory of what just went on you will have something written to research or just jog your memory. Memory and cognition can be affected by mental illness, and I'm not just talking fear of impending doom or sense of self here. When I'm sick it takes me longer to process stuff, even simple stuff, and there are lots of things I don't remember so keep the pen and paper handy and don't beat yourself up when things don't go as planned.

Where does this get us? Like other illness and injury, there are steps you can take to get better, but healing often takes longer than you want it to. Even after you get back to a functional state you might find you get tired or overwhelmed more easily. As before, cut yourself some slack and surround yourself with people you feel supported but not smothered by. There IS treatment for mental illness. You can get better, even if you don't think you ever will. I have depression and anxiety and the symptoms have ebbed and flowed since my childhood. Sometimes I'm fine and sometimes I'm most definitely Not Fine. If I had proactive about treatment younger I might be better now at managing my 'twins' - the Black Dog and the Monster - but maybe not. Either way I am much better at calling for help now than ever before, I'm much better at allowing myself to heal, I'm still terrified by relapses and with this current relapse I'm trying to work on what might trigger these major episodes so I can avoid, to some extent, things spiraling out of control.

If you, or someone you love, is suffering with mental illness please work on getting some help  <3 p="">

I luv youse all!!!

This afternoon I went to the park with a bunch of other Kindergerten parents. I'm shocked at how 'on the outer' I felt. I know I'm prone to these feelings (try being bullied at school and growing up with a bit of social anxiety - making nice-nice with the other mothers becomes torture. Ugh. Anyway, it brought into stark contrast what awesome older friends I do have. I was late home, so they hung around my back yard, with their preschoolers. They cheered my kid's first ever wee on the potty then made me lunch and coffee while I went and put my tired kid to bed. They laughed at my jokes, they commiserated with my failings and difficulties. At other times they have ensured that a drunken Keda got home safely, they still love my kids despite having seen them at their worst, they appear to cheerfully tolerate my grubby bathroom and they do a really good job of pretending to be interested with whatever my current project is (Chooks this month). In short, these lovelies, and my other old mates, are the ones I want around my when the proverbial hits the fan. Thank you ladies :-)

Clauunk-schk (that's the sound of gears changing, without the benefit of a clutch-pedal)

Ssoooo, it's been a while....

I'm still wearing my 'office clothes' (although I have swapped my tights for pyjama pants) and I've applied my lipstick because it's nice to look ones best for old friends with whom one has not caught up with in a while. I also have a glass of red wine beside the keyboard, and one in my belly (dutch courage - something I also need when it comes to old colleagues/schoolmates/lovers).

My life is so different now to when I first started this blog that I was considering closing it and starting again, but instead I'll just draw a line under the past and start again anyhow. I don't want to forget how far I've come - although I don't need anyone else to remember.

A (very) brief recap: born, school, depression, uni, depression, work, depression, more work, marriage, work, baby, post-natal depression, part-time work, another baby, life, depression, medication, more part time work and now, a new house with a decrepit garden.

Now I'm working as an educational designer (whatever that is) and moonlighting helping another project with SEO/social media. I spend three days per week in an office huddled around a computer and the other days working in the garden and/or with friends. Since I'm now helping other people write their blog posts I thought it was only fair that I started writing for me, too. Let's see if I can keep to my aim of a weekly post!

Put your money where your mouth is!

...and support the arts. In my letter to Gladys I mentioned my sister's beloved. The lovely and very talented Bridget looks after my kids wonderfully but her real work is in the arts. She has a great project but needs to get funding. Here is her pitch.

She's crowdfunding her first serious short film and I'm proud that we were the first to donate! Add your voice (well, your $$ actually) to a great Australian film project. Ya never know, one day Bridget might be the next Baz Lurhmann/Fred Schepsi/George Miller/Phillip Noyce and you will be able to boast that you donated to her first project.
Support Australian film!
Support women in film!
Contribute to the arts!
Help crowdfund this project!

Status Update

A few days ago, it must have been Tuesday, I was pottering around the house and heard what sounded to me like our neighbors moving house. I was dissapointed and angry at myself for not inviting them around - they brought us cake when we moved in, flowers at Kiran's birth and have been just lovely but we haven't got around to having them over. The next day I realised that it was the neighbors on the other side, who we don't know at all, who may have been moving - it certainly wasn't the lovely people from number 46! So, realising that I was really angry at myself for not making an effort I decided that this weekend we would invite them over for cake in the afternoon. I am generally really crap with my good intentions - all plan, no follow-through so I'm putting it our here so I do it.

Anyone who isn't interested in micro-detail regarding my kids can stop reading now!

Last week, at three months and one day Kiran flung himself over (front-to-back) he's also noticably turned from an air breathing foetus into a baby - he's more alert, he sleeps for longer stretches and he startles more easily. He also smiles whenever anyone talks to him and vocalises lovely little magpie noises, which are sometimes quite loud and assertive, when he has something important to say. I'm sad to say I've only just noticed him sleeping for longer stretches during the day because it's only this week that I have put him down for a morning sleep in his bed, rather than getting him up and carting him all over the place. I think I'm going to have to have more at-home time built into our week to let the poor kid sleep a bit more. Poor second child!

Watching him find his hands and be able to get them (and sometimes whatever they are holding, if he's lucky) into his mouth has been lovely - first he waves both hands about and then, when they find each other he clings on for dear life, you can almost see the knuckles going white with the effort. Then he brings them up to his mouth and fits as much of the 'double fist' in as he can. Once they are in there he anjoys the dual sensation - the feel of the cool fingery things writhing around in his mouth and the lovely warm sucking sensation that he feels radiating up from the ends of his arms. He can amuse himself this way for significant periods of time now, allowing me to potter about and get a few things done.

Asher is also coming along in leaps and bounds - I think I mentioned that he can use cutlery, holding his fork still while he cuts with his knife? Well, the other day he also surprised me by peddalling his trike around the back deck. This doesn't seem like much of an achievement for a three year old, but the erganomics (is that the right word?) of the trike are such that it actually looks really difficult to pedal - he needs both co-ordination and quite a lot of strength. After having a go on another kid's learner bike (with training wheels) he came home and could suddenly manage his own trike. He's also been being really good (sporadically). Tuesday we spent a lot of time together at home without anyone else around which is often a recipe for both of us to get irritated, but there wasn't so much as a raised voise all day! And by the time Sanj got home both kids were bathed! I'm kinda proud of both of us for that!

Singapore Trip roundup

Flight over:
Possibly for the first time ever both Sanjay and I were ready almost half an hour before we needed to leave. It was only because we had the time wrong and the minibus was due half an hour after we thought it was coming. So we, with kids and luggage, was ready and waiting when the minibus arrived. We then went and picked up Emma, Brendan and baby Maddie and headed off to the airport.


The flight was easier than expected. I was all super-mum prepared with little surprises for Asher in labelled brown paper bags (clever internet people suggest wrapped gifts, I'm not super-mum enough to wrap things, but I can arrange brown paper bags and some sticky tape) and NOT ONE of my carefully prepared treats got used. To help keep the kids ears from hurting we gave Asher a lollipop on take-off which he was only allowed to open when we were in the air and Emma and I breastfed the babies as soon as we felt the urge to pop our own ears. I had made the mistake previously of taking the suggestion to breastfeed 'on take-off' too literally and I wasn't caught out this time.

We landed in Singapore about 8:30 and there was a driver waiting for us who took us to Tim and Jen's place while the others went to their hotel. Asher went straight to sleep while we had a gin and tonic before heading to bed.

Sunday
We all got up early and met Emma, Brenden and Maddie at Singapore Zoo and had 'Breakfast with the Orang Utans' which was just awesome. Big hotel-style buffet breakfast with the Orang Utans sitting only metres away, with a talk about the animals and a photo op. We spent the rest of the morning at the zoo and we were all really impressed, despite being regular visitors to Taronga - the animals look happy and well cared for (lots of interesting things for them to play with, like Taronga) but the really cool part was how well the enclosures were designed, making me feel like I was walking through the jungle encountering animals.

After the zoo we were all tired and hungry and caught taxis to a nearby Indian place that Tim and Jen have eaten at before (delicious!) before heading back to the apartment(/hotel for the others) for a rest and a shower before heading out for Chilli Crab.

Monday
Monday was a public holiday in Singapore so Tim had the day off. Since Kiran had suffered a bit in the heat the day before I wanted to hit one of the big air conditioned malls that Singapore is famous for. We went to one that specialised in kids things and browsed while Tim and Jen took Asher off for a play in a big toy shop and a haircut!

In the afternoon we went to a place not far from Tim and Jen's apartment that has big tanks where one can hire a rod and fish for prawns. But that was just a side-attraction for us - we went for the 'toothless fish foot spa' where you put your feet in large tiled tanks and little fish come and nibble off the dead skin. It was hard going getting our feet in and watching the tiny fish chomp away but once they were in, if you stopped thinking about it, it was OK. There was no doubt that our feet and lower legs felt smoother afterwards.

In the later afternoon we went and had a sunset cruise on the river and took a walk near the Merlion and the 'Durian' on our way to Gluttons Bay for dinner. Unfortunately it started to rain so instead of going to Glutton's Bay we ended up going to a rather touristy pizza place. Nice pizza, beer and best of all Asher came and snuggled onto my lap and went to sleep. Because the kids were all asleep we went back to Emma and Brendan's hotel room so Emma and I could take Jen for a drink. The boys stayed with the kids and had a drink on the balcony (or would have, if baby Maddie had been more settled).


Tuesday
Our last full day in Singapore. breakfast at a the hawker centre near Tim and Jen's place, then an attempt at Orchard Rd shopping. Asher wasn't really into this idea and for the first time during the trip started to drive me crazy so Jen and I headed toward little India with Kirin (via Starbucks and some more browsing on Orchard Rd) and Sanj took Asher back to the apartment (via a wine shop). We ended up looking at gold in the Mustafa centre for a bit but having to head back before buying anything or getting to Little India proper. On Tuesday night we packed and then Tim and Jen prepared a lovely dinner at home for all of us.

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday
We headed to the ferry terminal early Wednesday morning for the boat to Bintan Island Club Med. Jen had helped us get a really good deal and it turned out to be a really awesome experience. Club Med are, perhaps obviously, really well set up for kids. If you book with a baby you get 'baby toiletries' (powder and baby oil) in your room along with a cot, sterilizer and baby bath. Because we had a preschooler as well we had an adjoining room for the little ones.

We spent the next few days jumping in the pool, hanging out at the beach bar, going for a kayak, drinking iced coffee in the panorama bar (the one with a view), sitting beside the pool drinking mocktails/cocktails, eating gigantic buffet breakfast/lunch/dinner, getting a massage and lounging in our rooms (in the aircon) reading.



Asher spent two afternoons at kids club (Petite Club Med for 2-4 year olds) which we sold to him as 'holiday kindy' and therefore, just like regular kindy, something that's just gotta happen. He cried a bit when Sanj left him the first day, but was a lot better the second day - which means the experience can't have been too bad.

All too soon it was time for the ferry back to Singapore, a visit to some family friends and then a night at the very lovely airport hotel for our 5am check in the next day.


Flight home
Again, apart from the 5am check in check in, the trip home was perfect. Asher was a better behaved than anyone can reasonably expect from a three year old on a seven hour flight - he sat quietly in his seat and listened to music, stuck stickers in his sticker book and played 'memory' with Sanjay. When we got home my brother Michael had cleaned up and brought supplies and after a quick dinner and a load of washing we all went to bed early, thinking what a fabulous trip we'd had.

We would happily travel with Emma, Brendan and Maddie again and we would all love to go to Club Med again. Singapore was also more interesting than expected and we really needed another two days there at least - to see Singapore and to hang out with Tim and Jen a bit more (I was sad I didn't get to have a beer and a chat with Tim - whenever we were together he was wrangling Asher!).


(more photos, of course, on Flickr)

Kiran Update

We went to the Early Childhood Health Centre (ECHC) yesterday (when I started this post the visit was yesterday, now I'd have to say 'Thursday' instead) for Kiran's 8 week check. It was all good and apart from the Whooping Cough he is fine and growing like a weed. In fact it appears that he put on around 500g since last Tuesday's paediatrician visit. That is a lot of breastmilk! When I told Sanjay he suddenly realised why I've been so hungry recently and why I've been a bit tired (I feel like a Cheshire-mother, I might vanish at any moment, leaving just my milky breasts).

As well as getting longer and chubbier he's developing in other ways. He seems to recognise my face from several metres away now, he will lie on the floor and look at his toys or lie on the bed and gaze out the window for ten minutes at a time or more. I don't remember Asher being able to amuse himself for that long with any regularity until he was much older. He's very communicative and loves to gaze into my eyes, smile and then we have 'conversations' where I ask him questions and he vocalises with little 'ahs' back to me.

Kiran is also getting into a really good nighttime routine (will writing about it jinx it?). He goes to bed between 8 and 9:30 then wakes for a feed between11:30 and 1:30. He generally wakes again around 6 or 6:30am and Asher usually wakes and comes in before 7am so we are effectively awake for the day, even if Kiran sometimes goes back to sleep.

The little guy also had his first bottle last night. I went out for dinner with the Mummies and left both boys at home with Sanj. I expressed some milk the other day (almost 100ml) when I was feeling a bit full and so I got another 100ml yesterday which I hoped would be enough. It turns out he was a little reluctant to drink from the bottle at first but once he got the idea had the 100ml and a bit more from me when I got home before he went back to sleep. Dinner out with the mummies was great for me - just the tonic I needed after feeling a bit caged and tense for the last week or two. We were talking about how everyday things slip by so fast, particularly with second children, and how we should all be keeping a diary everyday and I thought about how irregularly I blog and made a pact to write something every day for a week. That seems a bit poor in the light of day, like I should be doing more, but I really want to do it and I hate over-committing. So, stay tuned for a post, however brief, every day for a week!

Art Gallery Trip

Asher showing us his art
Originally uploaded by karmakeda

Today we went to one of the Art Gallery of NSW's Tours for Tots programs (http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/for_kids/tours_for_tots). My friend Karen booked it ages ago, when I was in early pregnancy, and I didn't know if I'd be able to cope getting into the city to the Gallery and doing the activities with Asher with a newborn. It turns out that it's OK - I should have left earlier as an hour isn't long enough to get there without dragging Asher throught the streets of the city. Lucky he's a tough little thing who normally likes walking otherwise it would have ended in tears. I also couldn't have done it without the wonderful Karen who not only booked for me but also, with less than 10 weeks to go of her own pregnancy, got down on the floor with the kids when it was hard for me to manage then took Asher to the beach with her and her daughter for a few hours. They are due back any minute (I've had a rest, looked after still-sick Kiran, done a few phonecall chores, done a load of washing and prepared dinner). I really don't know how people manage without such excellent mates - I don't know what I can do to repay my awesome friends.

The Tot program was good - best for relatively calm and attentive kids though, so even though they say 3-5 year olds it seemed a bit tough for some of the younger and less compliant ones. We looked at four artworks and I thought the analysis was good and still totally appropriate for the preschooler set. I also wanted to bring the John Olsen work we looked at home with me, There were two activities that related well to the artworks but perhaps lacked a little. We used stencils to layer sea creatures onto our surfboard shapes (the surfboard will become a picture frame) and used crayons and stickers to decorate sunglasses.

I want to get this posted and the bath run for when the kids descend, so I'll post this now, without re-reading.

One month old!

Baby K turned 4 weeks old yesterday! He's a lovely mellow baby but I've worked out that the routine we have doesn't really allow me to blog very easily. He's growing really well and although I haven't weighed him I can tell because he's starting to grow out of the smallest clothes. The Bonds 0000 Wondersuits are almost too tight now and the Target 00000 growsuit doesn't fit at all anymore. He loves being in the Ergo, he sleeps well in the Amby hammock and goes to sleep in the car. Unlike Asher he reliably sleeps on 'non-living surfaces' and is often content to lie around and look out the window or something for minutes at a time - sometimes 10 or 15 minutes, which leaves me free to attend to Asher. The more I live with this easy baby the more I realise that I was not insane to think that Asher was quite needy when he was a newborn and I was a first time mother. In retrospect he behaved more like a close-to-term premmie with his neediness - feeding lots but slowly and falling asleep during feeds but not being able to stay asleep without contact with an adult.

In terms of the routine of our week, I spend Mondays and Tuesdays with both kids, usually with Megan and Karen and their kids too, and for most of that time we are out and about so no time for blogging. Not that being out and about is the main thing stopping me from writing anything on those days -a newborn and an active 3 year old who doesn't nap are really enough.

Wednesdays I usually try to stay home most of the day. I'm usually sore from carting Kiran about in the Ergo for hours on end (5 hours of carrying 5+ kilos will wear you down!) and the house often looks like a pig-sty so I gaze at the baby, do a few loads of laundry and attempt to get an afternoon nap and make dinner. Not once have I managed all of that (today I made beef stew in the morning and got the washing on but Kiran won't let me nap, so I'm cross-legged on the couch with the baby in my lap, periodically getting up to raid the kitchen for chocolate).

Thursday and Friday are for running errands and hanging out with the baby and maybe catching up with a friend for coffee. I've been managing to keep up with the laundry on those days too and I'm hoping to start being able to prepare dinner and pick Asher up from Kindy sometimes too.

Weekends are family time - a lot of the time this means Sanjay hangs out with Asher and I look after the baby. This works really well but I worry that I'll lose my strong connection with Asher and Sanj won't bond well with Kiran - maybe I'm just neurotic and looking for something to worry about?

The rhythms of the days are pretty similar - we wake up for the day when Kiran wakes between 6:45am and 8am. Sanjay and Asher get up and start breakfast while I catch an extra half an hours sleep or feed the baby. We get ourselves ready to go out, and between 8:30 (today) and 10:30am we manage to get ourselves together and get out. Baths for the kids start around 4:30-5pm with dinner then bed for Asher by around 7:30. He seems to be sleeping better now that I'm a bit more strict with bed time. Sanj and I watch TV or clean up or Sanj works while I read until the baby wakes and then I feed him and head to bed. Sanjay either finishes of his work or gets ready for the next day and comes to bed after me. This means I rarely get to sleep before 11pm and Sanj is sometimes up until midnight, which would be OK except we have between 1 and 3 wake-ups to feed baby K. So, not quite enough sleep, but not too bad, considering the baby sleeps well, and generally goes straight back to sleep after he's been fed and changed.

Asher has been just delightful with the new baby. Sanjay and I have been very careful to keep his life as consistent as possible with his previous routine. I also try to ensure that it's never 'the baby' when I want him to be quiet or when he can't have my attention. For instance I tell him that we need to go inside because I'm cold, rather than telling him that the baby needs feeding and he's responding really well. He needs more help with things like feeding himself and putting his shoes on and he gets really whingy sometimes, but he's never been anything but extremely loving with his little brother. We also tell him how much Kiran likes him and what a good big brother he is and Asher being Asher likes that too. He's getting all his sillys out when he's with his mate Miles - the two of them yell and rumble and behave like lads which is simultaneously irritating and hilarious.

The poor little Kiran seems to have a cold - probably from Asher - his chest sounds rattle-y and he's coughing quite a lot. It doesn't seem to be bothering him too much though - he spent ages gazing into my eyes today, trying to talk to me, copying my facial expressions and smiling. The baby, snuggled into the nest of my crossed legs is starting to complain and need feeding. I can't manage much one handed typing, so that's it from me for now....

Bah-humbug

I'm already sick of the Christmas trees, tinsel and decorations in the shops and it's not even December yet. Recently ‘the presents’ have become a topic of conversation amongst my friends and I’ve been thinking a lot about gifts and giving and how I can get away from the rampant consumerism and environmental vandalism and still celebrate what Christmas means to me (not being a scroogy-humbug-killjoy , but hanging out with my family, eating, drinking and having fun).

One approach is, of course, to ‘just say no’ to gift giving , or perhaps all of the traditional Christmas traditions. That's not going to work for us because there is so much I like about the festive season. Another alternative, and one I think I might suggest to my family for next year is much like a workplace 'Kris Kringle' where names go into a 'hat' and everyone buys a present for just one person. This would solve two of the big problems - present budgeting and too much 'stuff' but I can't see my mother (in particular) being able to only buy a gift for one person in our family. It would also suck to get one of the really hard-to-buy-for people (such as my wonderful brother-in-law).

So, what I'm going to trial this year is *not* buying gifts for my group of friends (I must inform them! I don't want to receive presents either!), and Sanj and I are going to think really hard about what we buy for my immediate family (I would post my excellent ideas here, except I know two of them read this blog occasionally).

So, when I do give gifts, these are the things I'm going to try to factor in. Gifts should:

NOT add stress (so I’m not going to be making everything I give),
NOT add to household clutter (mine or other peoples)
SHOULD be environmentally and socially responsible
SHOULD be within budget
SHOULD be appropriate to the giver, the receiver and their relationship to each other

So I guess we come to ideas for gifts . I personally think, in the first instance we should be going for:

• Gifts of time/skills: babysitting (!), help with anything from cleaning to computer back-ups.
  
• Made gifts: there are too many things to list here: art, wearables (clothing and jewellery), food and treats and, only cheating slightly things like Snapfish calendars
  
• Second-hand things (ideally from charity shops): Tricky – although buying second-hand means your gifts haven’t been manufactured …..they still add to the problem of clutter. Gifts should be chosen wisely here – I would always suggest second hand books and, cleaned up, toys can be excellent.
  
• Donations: it’s nice to personalize donations to reflect the favourite charities or personal crusades of the recipient.

So what happens when none of those things are going to work? M

• Consumables: wine and food, either made or purchased, art materials, beauty products (although it’s nice to be sure they are things people will really use – there’s no point giving bath products to people who shower or who don’t have a tub).
  
• 'Experience' gifts: anything from the amazing (a skydive!) to the mundane (and agreement to go out for dinner together). I also count vouchers for massages or pedicures and tickets for movies or shows here too – this type of gift can be expensive but they don’t add to household clutter
  
• Really super-useful: There are often things that you know people need textbooks for the student in your life , socks and underwear for someone like Sanj who never thinks to buy those things for himself. This can remove the surprise factor of a gift but it's quite possible to fit my original gift-giving criteria.

What am I missing? What else should be on my list? I have to say that after writing this post I'm much less 'bah-humbug' about the whole thing than I expected. In fact I'm starting to get excited about going to find our Christmas stick and about finding useful, inexpensive 'green' gifts for the family. Perhaps I'll try to do a bit of a round-up of some of the blogs I'm going to use for inspiration for greener Christmases.... Please let me know your favourites!

My son

When he isn't biting, kicking, throwing sand, scratching, pulling hair, pushing or snatching he's just delighful. Witness him here, being spun around and laughing with his little mates:

See? When he's happy, he's really happy.

Another day, another dollar...

...And, although it really is only a few dollars, I'm loving the work thing! I'm loving using my brain to sort out detailed and complex problems. I'm loving using my rusty MS Word skills to clean up this set of documents. I'm loving that the people around me appreciate what I do, and put their appreciation into words (that can't always be said for toddlers!). I'm loving working with my mum, because it makes it easy for me to do a good job. I'm also loving having a small amount of time away from Asher because it makes coming home to him in the evening so sweet. Last night it seemed as though he'd grown taller and begun to put more complex sentances together in the space of the day.

So, I think I can safely say that I want to keep working and I'll have to start thinking about what I'll do when this 10 week thing finishes. I have started looking into getting a childcare placement for Asher for two days a week because it seems like my mother-in-law might not be keen to look after him, and the rediculously small amount I'm paying Megan (half what I earn) isn't sustainable for her (even if she insists otherwise!).

It's interesting that most of the mummies I know with kids around Asher's age are putting them in daycare, even for half a day a week (if they can afford it!). It's as though these little people, who have so intensly needed their mums are becoming herd animals and prefer the company of their own kind. I'd really like to find a great centre, not too big and nice and close that has a Montessori-influenced, child focussed philosophy. I'd like them to have Wednesdays and Thursdays free and not charge us anything either, but that's probably starting to push my luck a bit.

Anyhow, because I'm so cheerful today let me share the joy with this pic of Asher and his best mate M sitting on his little couch after their bath in their matching PJs. They were drumming their feet on the ground and laughing their cute little heads off:

Art Jam Roundup

  Well, as I think you can see by the photos art day was a success! We didn't need the carpet cleaner that Sanjay insisted I find, there isn't paint all over our fence and I think everyone had fun. We don't own kiddie easels (or adult ones for that matter) so we moved all the pot plants into a corner and made our small back courtyard into a little arts and crafts area. We tied large pieces of cardboard to the brush-box fence, one for each child and pegged or clipped pieces of paper for them to paint on. Megan and I made finger-paint and Karen brought palettes; Sanjay made a 'table' from a milk crate (with a bag of potting mix for stability) and a piece of chipboard he found in the garbage room which Audrey seemed to enjoy painting. My wonderful mother brought a roll of paper from Reverse Garbage and each kid did two or three paintings.

Asher had a bit of a go at painting but found the texture of the paint on his hands quite difficult, so when the brushes were a bit painty he had to keep washing his hands. Then he was wandering around with wet hands saying 'wash' with a worried look on his face until I worked out that he actually wanted them dried as well. I'll hook up a towel next to the hand washing tub next time we do it.

Now that we have set it up and know how easy it is I'm going to be painting a bit more at home. I think getting Asher more comfortable with different textures would be really good for him, and I'd love a bit more of his art on our walls. A big shout out to Megan, Karen, Clare and Franni for helping out and making the day so much fun.

ZAP explores the park one blade of grass at a time

Zara explores the grass
Originally uploaded by karmakeda

We had a lovely brekky with Bindy, Daniel and Zara this morning at a cafe in Coogee that specializes in crumpets (I'll go find a link just so you can revel in smutty joy of the names of the breakfast dishes). We haven't caught up for a while and it was great to see them - we have all been a bit busy with kids and recently the journey over to the eastern suburbs has seemed longer. Zara is growing into a delightful little person, very cheerful and sociable over breakfast and when we went for a walk to let Asher have a run around on she was pulling herself along on the grass and interested in all the little bits of nature (grass, sticks etc) she could grab. All in all a lovely morning. I don't think a photo would have done justice to Asher's little face as he stared intently at Zara and everything she was doing - he was just fascinated but this one of Zara is really cute and will have to do. Perhaps we can all try to channel Asher by staring at it with a very concentrated, serious expression?

The photo was taken with the new camera - I got the Canon PowerShot A 720 IS in the end and I'm happy with it so far. I still have to work out how to use the software that is bundled with it because at the moment I can download photos and nothing else. In fact, Imight have a play around with it now while Sanjay and Asher are at the supermarket.....