Author: Kaine Barton

Work/Life balance: It isn’t easy

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Working in the city when you live as far out into the suburbs as we do, means that every day you have to deal with a long commute. And when I tell people that it takes me an hour and a half to get to work of a morning (and an hour and a half to get home in the afternoon), they often look at me with a face that says “are you crazy?!”

I almost always say to them, as they continue to stare at me with that “are you crazy?!” look, that I’ve been working in the city ever since I graduated High School in 2001. So basically, a long commute to and from work is all I’ve ever known. And because of that fact, it has never really bothered me.

Well fast forward to 2016 and the long commute to and from work is getting just that little bit harder to take day by day.

Let’s put it this way… At the moment, I generally leave the house at 6:30am every morning and generally don’t get home from work until nearly 6:00pm most nights. And as for getting home by 6:00pm, that is assuming I get out of the office at 4:15pm every afternoon. If I don’t, well, depending on the public transport schedule, my home time could blow out to anywhere between 6:30pm to 7:00pm.

Unfortunately, this means that during the week, because of my long commute, I get very limited awake time with Jesse.

When I leave for work of a morning, Jesse is either still asleep, or has just woken up. And when I do manage to get home by 6:00pm, because at that time it’s smack bang in the middle of his bedtime routine, he is usually asleep (most of the time) not too long after I get home.

For that reason, I really cherish the time I get to spend with him during the week. Simply because of the fact that my awake time with him can be quite limited.

Just over the past week, there was one day where I didn’t get to see him awake at all. I left work when he was asleep. And when I got home, I got home to this… Our cheeky little monkey completely worn out from a big day asleep on mummy’s lap. Down and out for the night.

Sleeping Jesse

And this is the exact reason that I am starting to find it just that little bid harder, day by day, to accept such a long commute to work.

I know there are plenty of options out there available for people who have long commutes to and from work. Hot-desking at local work hubs… Working from home… Flexible work arrangements…

And these are all options I am really starting to think about with more seriousness as the days and weeks and months fly by with Jesse.

Because at the end of the day, time does fly by. I mean Jesse is turning one next month. ONE!!! I can’t believe that. And because it is flying by so quickly, I can’t help but feel bad that I am unable to spend that quality time with him during the week.

The saddest thing of all, is that I know I’m not the only one in this situation. There are a lot of mums and dads out there that have long commutes to work who don’t get to spend a lot of quality time with their kids during the week. And when there is so much flexibility available for work arrangements, I think this is very sad.

With all that said, I am thankful that Renee is able to spend all the time in the world with Jesse during the week given that she is a stay-at-home mum come Kangatrainer legend!!!

So while I continue to deal with my long commute to and from work, I will make the most of my cuddles in bed with him now that we have started co-sleeping again.

I know, that I will get to spend quality time with Jesse during the week soon enough!

Boating and BBQing

Kaine BartonLeave a comment

Yesterday was a great day!

We decided to go childless…

That’s right. We dropped Jesse off at Grandma and Grandpa’s and headed out for a day on the water!

There was 11 of us in total. And we had an absolute blast! It was so good to get out for a day without Jesse (don’t get me wrong, we absolutely LOVE Jesse, but it is good to get some time to yourself every once in a while) and have a few drinks with some friends.

It was so fun in fact, that we shouldn’t wait 10 years to do it again like we did this time round!

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The best night I’ve had as a new dad.

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This past week I probably had my worst nights sleep since becoming a dad.

Before I go into that, let me start from the beginning though.

I have been incredibly lucky with my sleep since becoming a first time dad. Renee, who is an absolute legend of a first time mum in my books, incredibly, unselfishly and without hesitation took on the night shifts when it came to getting up to Jesse when he woke throughout the night.

In the beginning, she was breastfeeding, so there wasn’t much use for me to be awake. And our rationale was that it was better having one well rested parent for the day to take on most of the responsibility.

Then, I went back to work, while Renee continued her journey as a stay at home mum. We both agreed that again, there was wasn’t much use for me to get up throughout the night so that I was tired for work the next day.

What an amazing woman right! I am an incredibly lucky man to have someone who has practically been a sleep deprived mess for the past 10 months, but hasn’t complained about it one bit.

Cut to last Wednesday night.

Jesse has been teething and on top of this, he is going through his latest leap. This has resulted in a very unhappy and unsettled boy over the past week or two.

Wednesday night, I went through Jesse’s new bedtime routine which has become one of my new responsibilities. One that I cherish and love to do. He fell asleep relatively easily at around 7pm, which has become somewhat of the normal time he falls asleep for the first time of a night.

9:30pm he wakes for the first time. Something that we’ve become used to recently. Him waking up often throughout the night. Well, trying to get him back to sleep after he woke was nearly impossible!

Everything Renee tried just simply would not work. He was quiet when he had a boob in his mouth, but as soon as that stopped he would wake up. Renee would try and stand and he would wake up crying. Renee would try and put him down in his cot, and he would start screaming.

Cue me to try and calm the situation. I manage to get him to to fall asleep in my arms without waking up. SUCCESS!

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Go to put him in his cot, and again he would start screaming!

It turns out the only thing that would stop him from screaming was bringing him into our bed with us.

So that’s exactly what we did. We brought him into our bed, where he tossed and turned until he found a comfortable spot in bed. He had his chest and head laying up on my pillow pressed in as close as he could to my face.

Every time I would move, he would shuffle over pressing his head back against my face. At one stage, he was almost pushing me off my own pillow.

And that is how I lay in bed… until 2am the next morning. Not sleeping. Just snuggling with our little Jesse, listening to his breathing as he slept soundly.

And you know what, despite the fact that I didn’t get to sleep until 2am… and despite the fact that I was tired at work the next day, I loved EVERY… SINGLE… SECOND of him snuggled into my face as he slept that night.

Since that night we have thrown the rule book out the window and decided that for all 3 of our sakes, if having Jesse sleep in our bed means that we get a better night sleep, well dammit he will sleep in our bed!

And that’s what we’ve done. For the past 3 nights he has slept in our bed. And you know what, I think it’s the best sleep Jesse and Renee have gotten in months!

As for me, I get to fall asleep every night knowing that I’m snuggling with my two favourite people in the whole wide world!

Guest Blogger: Sam Goodwin with ‘6 months in, 6 months out’.

Kaine Barton1 Comment

We recently read an inspirational birth story from a mum who delivered premature twins. It was such a touching story that we felt we had to reach out and let her know how moved we were by it. Well, one thing led to another and we asked if she would like to be a guest blogger on NSSLOU and share her story with our audience.

So we now have the absolute pleasure to introduce our first guest blogger, Sam Goodwin, with her inspirational story about the birth of her twin boys Kalani and Keanu. So please show Sam some love for the bravery to share her story publicly, and maybe we can convince her to return as a guest blogger in the future to share an update when the twins are 12 months old.

You can find Sam on Facebook here and on Instagram here.

‘6 months in, 6 months out’ by Sam Goodwin

“It was March 2015 when I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was reading a positive pregnancy test. I was just short of 21 years old and had only just developed a recent relationship with my soon to be child’s father.

4 weeks along my doctor confirmed it… I was expecting a new bundle of joy! I didn’t know how to feel at that stage, so I called it a bundle of ‘what am I meant to do now?’

To my surprise at my 7 week dating scan, I wasn’t expecting just one baby. But two! Twins! At this stage, I almost fell off my chair in disbelief! Me? Two babies? What! I could hardly get my head around one, but two humans in my belly? That I will give birth to and nurture and raise… two babies!?

As the weeks went on I was trying to get my head around it. I was attending antenatal appointments, scans and blood tests, and at two different hospitals. This was because I was informed there were a lot of risks involving the type of twins I was carrying. The doctors had explained the sorts of risks that would involve preterm labour such as TWIN-TWIN transfusion, which was one of their main concerns. They forgot to mention the risks that this pregnancy would have on myself and my body.

At the 20 week scan the ultrasound technician had noticed my cervix had shortened quite a significant amount and for precaution, I was sent to the birthing suite to be examined. Later it was confirmed that I was at risk of very preterm labour. It was right then and there that I was booked in at 21 weeks to have a cerclage stitch put in my cervix to help prevent the babies from coming preterm. There was still a risk the babies would come, but we could only hope the stitch would hold them in. If they were born before 24 weeks, the doctors would not resuscitate and I would birth still-born babies.

Before being discharged from the hospital, the doctor had explained to me that I would now have to give up work and be on total bed rest at home for the remainder of my pregnancy. If my cervix shortened any more, I’d have to be admitted to maternity at Royal Brisbane hospital until my babies were born.

At 24+4 weeks I had a routine check-up at the Royal Brisbane. My cervix had shortened again and I was now dilating by 3 centimetres. There I was, being given steroid shots and magnesium to help my babies lungs, brain and organs for a preterm birth.

I was admitted to the maternity ward that afternoon and spent a total of 4 hours lying in bed until I started to have contractions.

I was then taken to the birthing suite and the midwifes, nurses as doctors did all they could to slow down my labour. But by the time the next day came, there wasn’t much more they could do for me, or my two babies, and they would be born extremely premature at just 24+5 weeks gestation.

I was given the option to have a natural birth, but I made up my mind of having a C-Section as it was the safest option. Twin number two was in breach.

I was wheeled into theatre to have an emergency Caesarean, early afternoon on Tuesday 15th September.

As I laid in the operating theatre, in a state of panic, nervousness and sadness, with no movement from my chest down from the epidural that had leaked into my spine, I heard the doctor yell “twin one out”… It all seemed so surreal. It happened so quickly and it was all a blur.

I couldn’t see over the sheet that had been across the top half of my body but I frantically looked from side to side trying to catch a glimpse, and although I couldn’t see him, I was hoping he would be okay. They immediately started working on him to keep him alive at the bottom of the bed where I lay. Twin two was then taken out and I could briefly see him to the right of me with neonatal teams working on him pumping his little chest and hooking wires into him. Laying there with my stomach cut open, with a million thoughts running through my head and tears flowing down my face, a doctor approached the top half of my body. He told me that they are trying the best they can but they can’t get twin one to respond to resuscitation and they may have to let him go. I howled with tears and squeezed my mums hand as tight as I could. I felt helpless and scared… I cried out “don’t let my baby die”. I was so unsure if he would make it out alive while I was helplessly laying on the operating table, cut open while people were moving my guts around like they were doing the dishes in my stomach.

After what felt like a lifetime, the same doctor approached me again. I had prepared myself as much as I could to hear the worst news. And then he told me they ‘got him’. Relief rushed through me but I knew it would not be the end. They wheeled my babies to the neonatal intensive care unit where they would remain.

After I spent between 1-2 hours in recovery, I was now allowed to be taken in to see my babies in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). There I met my identical twin sons.

Twin one, Kalani Archer born 766 grams (1 lb 68 oz) and twin two, Keanu Elijah born 742 grams (1 lb 63 oz).

Locked away in an isolate. Small, fragile and hooked to machines barely clinging to life.

Though you know your baby would be preemie… There is nothing that could ever prepare you for what you’re about witness.

Every night and day I’d sit at my babies bedsides trying to hold myself together. Scared to touch them or even look at them. I thought If I loved my babies it would be harder to say goodbye. I remained there but I also kept my distance. I was still in major shock and I would find myself wandering around the hospital ward wondering if I was having a nightmare.

Motherhood was new to me, but this was a different type of motherhood than the norm. The one thing that shocked me was the way I had to feed my babies. My babies would be fed by tube through their mouth to their stomach, I’d hold the tube above them and let the milk drip down. At this point they were tolerating just 1ml of milk/colostrum.

On day 4 I was taken into the room on the NICU ward where a doctor had told me that Keanu had a perforated bowel, which is common in micro-preemies born at his gestation. Their organs have not completely developed and many issues could evolve because of that. As I sat staring at the x-ray of my poor darlings belly, they were preparing to take him to the children’s hospital for bowel surgery. It was not even 6 hours after Keanu that Kalani also perforated his bowel, and was transferred to the children’s hospital to have surgery as well.

It occurred to us that maybe if one twin does something, the other soon would follow. And that’s what happened on a few occasions. Keanu had a stoma placed, and Kalani had his bowel reversed back in. I was still in shock at having such small babies and my life completely turned upside down, that I didn’t understand how severe their condition or operation was. I sat by their bedside for hours upon days talking to them, wiping away tears and trying to look after myself in recovering from a C-section and expressing milk every 3 hours to feed my sons.

Both my babies were sick and recovering as much as they could and were clinging onto dear life when Kalani perforated his bowel again at 10 days old. The surgeons had told me that it was now that I should pray for my baby, as there is a very low survival rate for how sick he is and that he will most likely die during his operation.

I knew I’d be naive if I didn’t prepare myself for the worst. I knew my baby was going to die. He was little, sick, fragile and he had already gone through one surgery.

We had a photographer come in to take photos of Kalani for safe keep.

Their father and I were taken into a room to discuss the twins survival rate which was below 50% before the operations, and now 25% given how sick they had gotten.

We waited for what felt like hours for that call. And then it came. I wanted to answer it but I didn’t want to know my baby had passed away. The surgeon told me that he made it through the surgery and he now has a stoma like his brother Keanu. I was told that he’s okay, but for the next 24 hours he could still be at danger.

If one twin did something the other would too. So I still felt uneasy about Keanu doing the same thing as his brother, so we watched him carefully.

Kalani proved to be fighting through and both the surgeons and the doctors were stunned that he proved them all wrong. He survived surgery number 2!

On day 17 I got to hold one of my babies for the first time. Keanu was placed on my chest as I let go a sigh of happiness. It was such a heartfelt moment for me and one that I’ll never forget. One of my many dreams of childbirth was holding my baby for the first time. For mums of full term babies, this happens so soon after birth and it’s one of the things that makes the mother feel complete. I felt robbed of that.

We had spent a total of 2 weeks in the Mater Mothers intensive care before returning to NICU at the Royal Brisbane. I was living at Ronald McDonald house across the road to be closer to my sons.

On October 14th I got to have my first cuddle of my babies at the same time. One month after their birth. I felt completely overwhelmed with joy. All of us, together again. You see, my babies were born together but were now cared for separately, so they’ve never touched or felt one another since being in the womb. It was such a wonderful moment for all of us, to be close again.

As time went on we gained so much.

They were 30 weeks gestational age and both babies reached 1kg. They were improving but then… Kalani took a turn for the worst as his body wasn’t responding to his stoma as well as we hoped.

Because of where the stoma was placed, all of his food that was meant to be digesting was coming out without digesting completely, causing him to have to be fed every hour and on TPN supplements to give him the nutrients he was lacking. The doctors recommended we put them on formula milk to try and help him absorb nutrients as my breastmilk was too thin to keep, but it was no use.

Kalani was slowly but surely fading. He was getting sicker and sicker and we now had to have another surgery to reverse his stoma back into his tummy. Great, another surgery. The sadness, the fear and the uncertainty. Again. For the 3rd time.

It felt as though it would never end and there was no hope for my sick babies. Despite that, I stayed strong for my sons and kept my head high, even if I wanted to just put it in my hands and cry (which I did as soon as I left the hospital every day).

We were booked in for neorescue to come retrieve Kalani and take him to the children’s hospital for his surgery on a Friday. We had time to prepare, and knew what was to be expected. Which did kind of make things a little easier. Two nights before we were off to see Kalani for surgery, Keanu’s stoma prolapsed spontaneously. It happened at 9pm on a Wednesday night.

I was staying at Ronald McDonald house a majority of the time but would go home (a one hour drive away) every now and then to see my dog Charlie, eat a nice meal and sleep in my own bed.

The night I decided to do this, I got the sickening phone call. Every time I got a phone call I’d think the worst. That someone on the other line would tell me my baby had died. It was 12am and the surgeon on the other line had told me that Keanu had prolapsed and will need to have emergency surgery tonight at the children’s hospital. Half asleep I asked “Keanu… What? Kalani is booked in for Friday!” It was like Keanu said ‘no way is Kalani going for surgery first!’

In a state of panic I got dressed out of my pyjamas as fast as I could and we drove the one hour drive to the children’s hospital to meet the team with my baby boy to say goodbye and give him a kiss and wish him good luck. I was so mad at the thought I already had one twin going for surgery on Friday, and then his brother had to put more emotional strain on us all. But at this stage, I was deeply in love with my babies and could not see life without them and just prayed for it all to be over.

After pulling an all-nighter at the children’s hospital, sleeping in armchairs waiting for Keanu to come out of surgery, the surgeon finally rang to say he’s out of surgery and we can come and see him. It was 5am and I remember being dressed in horrible clothing, with crazy hair, bags under my eyes standing over my babies cot whispering how much I loved him and how well he’s done. As soon as I felt I knew he was okay I made the one hour trip back home at the break of dawn to catch up on sleep before I made the trek back to the hospital to be by my babies sides.

As Friday came around it was time for Kalani to have surgery. The Mater didn’t have enough bed space for him so we had to wait until Saturday for the surgery.

I was sitting next to Keanu’s cot when they wheeled in Kalani to be placed in the same room for prepping for surgery. I gave Keanu a kiss on the forehead and told him I’d be back soon. I walked with Kalani to the children’s hospital to see him off. I held his tiny hand and kissed him so gently. I told him I loved him and I’d be waiting for him. I told him to be strong and that I’d see him soon.

The most hardest part about having my sons go for operations is not knowing the outcome until it’s too late. To have their life in the palm of someone else’s hands. Having no control and no voice for my babies. I can’t scream out for them “save them!”, “don’t let my baby die”. As a mum you do everything in your power to protect your children from harm so when it is out of your control, you feel inadequate.

I felt as though it was just another life lost for the doctors, but for me it would be so much more. He’s my hope and dream, my true love, my life. Kalani had survived surgery number 3. You’d think by now it wouldn’t worry me as much, that it would be easier. But it definitely didn’t worry me less. I felt sick every time they needed an operation. I could only hope it was the last one. I told both of my boys “that’s it! No more!”

Doctors would make continuous jokes about how much grey hair the boys would give me. There was not a nurse, doctor or surgeon in Brisbane that didn’t know the famous Goodwin twins because of how courageous and brave they were. To have so many battles and still come out fighting.

Days had gone by and there were talks of transferring back to the Royal Brisbane. They decided to send back Kalani first, but wanted to keep Keanu for observation as his tummy was still so distended.

I felt so torn having two babies in two different hospitals, it was time consuming and exhausting. I couldn’t not see one or the other each day and night. I had to work around it the best I could. Keanu had been transferred back to the Royal and he was improving so well they sent him to special care. I could finally bath him, hold him when I wanted and tried him on his first bottle. Then things spiralled downwards…

An x-ray showed that Keanu had another perforated bowel.

We were sent back to the children’s hospital for surgery number 3.

In this moment I felt angry. I kept questioning why did this keep happening and will it ever stop!?

Torn between two hospitals again (let me just say that paying for parking is outrageous!! Especially when visiting two hospitals!!!)

As soon as we started heading up hill, we would tumble straight back down again.

The expression ‘having a preemie baby is a roller coaster’ was definitely an understatement for me. I was thrown in all different directions.

Keanu had surgery number 3 and soon recovered as we all hoped he would. At this point, I was suffering major depression. I felt like the only way I’d ever be happy again is if I got my babies HOME. I knew they were in the best hands, but I just wanted it all to be over. For good.

We started to see improvements. We were having eye tests every 2 weeks, feeding orally, keeping body temperature and then… Both of my babies got rotavirus.

NICU was now closed off.

I was so angry at the thought that such a sickening bug could get into the walls of NICU and affect my babies who just previously had bowel issues! As bubs grew bigger, both we’re in special care, having baths, bottles and lots of cuddles all day. We were free of wires and monitors and we had plans to transfer back to our hospital closer to home. The last step. Closer to home. I was hoping we could get home before Christmas. I couldn’t fall asleep most nights from excitement. I packed and repacked our hospital bags 100 times!

It was a Wednesday when we all transferred to Caboolture hospital special care nursery. As soon as I walked in, I let them know who was boss. Gosh I had been doing this for 3 months! I put my foot down a lot and I spent all my days there for about 4 days. Every feed, every bath. No one and I mean NO ONE, would do anything for me, I felt I had to prove that it was time for me to take my angels home.

Christmas Day came around and I was so bummed we hadn’t gone home yet. The paediatrician talked to me and asked me if I would like to room-in with my babes on Monday, spend two nights and then we can go home. I negotiated with them and said I’d prefer one night. After they ummed and ahhed, they said it could be a possibility. At that stage I was going to get my own way. I knew what I was doing and knew what I wanted. I just needed to take my babies home! I had had enough. My babies were as healthy as they could be and they were ready… I was ready!

On Christmas night, I came in to feed bubs and then got offered to room-in that night. I took it. We were taken to maternity ward where I spent one night with my babies alone, and then on Boxing Day we had the all clear to go home. One week before our due date, it all came to an end. I felt more relieved than ever… I was over the moon!

My babies were happy, healthy (as much as they could be) and thriving. With a little persistence with feeds and Kalani’s jaundice, we successfully settled in at home.

102 days in hospital and 2.2kg later.

It now seems like a distant memory.

All we have to remember it by, are the hospital safe keeps we took home and our battle scars… The ones we can see on the outside and the ones we can’t.

They are now 6 months old (2.5 months corrected age) and are doing amazingly well. We have hospital appointments every other week for check-ups, but my babies are as happy and as healthy as they could be.

Born September 15 2015 – Home December 26 2015 – Due date December 31 2015

Miracle babies.”

Goodwin Twins

 

Fright in the night!

Kaine BartonLeave a comment

I know it’s been said many times before… But having a baby is a big responsibility!

Being responsible for this tiny little human that can’t fend for themselves and that needs your care 24/7 is huge! And as a result, your new little bundle of joy soon becomes all you think about.

You think about them when you wake up. You think about them when you’re with them. You think about them when you’re at work. You even think about them when you’re asleep.

And this, is where one of the funniest running episodes in our household has started unfolding.

Okay, imagine this…

You’re sound asleep. Have been for hours. You’re chest is softly rising and falling with each breath. You’re pleasantly dreaming away. You are at that point where you are in your deepest sleep. You’re cosy. You’re safe.

And then it happens.

All of a sudden your partner (the wife in my case) startles you awake with a jolt! And not just once… On multiple nights…

W … T … F … !

So like I was saying, I’m sound asleep, and then out of nowhere, bloody Renee grabs me by the arm as I roll over in my sleep because she thinks it’s Jesse rolling out of bed!

Oh yea, that’s right… full on grabs me and wakes me up with a fright! On multiple occasions. You see what I mean with the whole, you even think about them when you’re sleeping.

“What the hell?!?!” I said to her one night.

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“I’m so sorry, I thought you were Jesse rolling out of bed.” We both have a little chuckle and go back to sleep.

Two nights later, happens again… “Really? Again?”

“Sorry… I thought you were Jesse again” she says.

Two nights later, happens again. “WHAT THE ACTUAL F***! CAN YOU PLEASE STOP IT!!!”

Yes, I actually got mad at Renee one night… Keep in mind I was half asleep, I was woken up with a fright, and I can’t believe that she’s done it again.

It is actually pretty funny when we talk about it the next day, but damn I wish she’d stop grabbing me all of a sudden at 2am in the morning because she thinks Jesse is falling out of bed. I mean, he doesn’t even sleep in our bed any more.

However, almost every morning when I get up for work, I bring Jesse into bed with Renee. It’s like a morning ritual. The two would doze together or at least Renee would while Jesse played with some toys that we keep stashed on the bedside table.

But a few weeks ago while Renee dozed as I got ready for work, our newly mobile bub fell off the bed to the floor with a startling thud that woke Renee from her morning slumber. It would now seem that this moment, has scarred her for life. Yup, pretty sure it has since she now panics every time I roll over in the middle of the night, thinking it’s Jesse about to roll off the bed again.

I guess they are right when the say women never sleep the same way again after becoming a mum.

The struggles…

The Crawling Diaries

Kaine BartonLeave a comment

Having a crawling baby is awesome. It really is a ton of fun. I’m not joking by the way… It may sound like I’m being sarcastic, but I’m not. Honest!

I mean, having a newborn that just lays there being all cute is great. But when they start crawling… wow… Awesomely fun times ahead.

Let’s look at the positives of having a crawling, mobile, active baby in the house.

Firstly, there’s all the baby proofing you need to do.

#FUN!

There’s going around and baby proofing draws and cupboards and fridges and anything that’s baby height that they can open and investigate. There’s taking practically everything off any shelving that is within reach that could be broken, swallowed or destroyed. And even if it can’t be broken, swallowed or destroyed, you better remove it anyway because it’s guaranteed the baby will find the one and only way to break, swallow or destroy it anyways. There’s gating off the TV cabinets and rooms which make it even hard for adults to navigate. You see… fun.

Then, there’s the fact that you no longer need a gym membership (cancel that sh** and save yourself the money), because you spend nearly all day racing around the house after your crawling baby.

#MOREFUN!

Crawling

There’s constantly rescuing the cat from the crawling and inquisitive baby that wants nothing more than to tug on its tail and pull out its hair. There’s the constant getting up and down and up and down to grab the baby from the blinds because no matter how many times you growl at him and tell him no, he just looks back at you, flashes a big “f*** you” smile and continues to pull on them (#whatana**hole). Did I mention the fact that in both of these situations you are constantly bending down to pick up a 10kg baby from the floor. Squats anyone?

On top of that, there’s the fun times when you lose sight of the mobile little tacker and you have a mild heart attack because you can’t help but think he’s probably found the ONE BLOODY THING in the house that you overlooked when you baby proofed that could hurt him.

#MOSTFUN!

Oh, and have I mentioned the wrestling match that is now trying to get a nappy and clothes on the crawling baby? What was once a fairly simple task, has now turned into an episode of the WWF. Tumble-turns, flips, tantrums and all…

I mean come on kid, why do you have such an aversion to getting dressed all of a sudden. You can crawl until your hearts content in like, 30 seconds. Just let me get this damn nappy nappy on you!!!

But in all seriousness, it is pretty great seeing your beloved little one crawling around being inquisitive and exploring the house. It can be more entertaining than TV. Watching them crawl around the house, every now and again looking back at you to flash a smile. Looking back at you for approval that they’re doing a great job crawling all on their own.

And at the end of the day, let’s enjoy this crawling period, because soon enough, they start walking and even worse… running.

And that, is a whole different kettle of fish!

Feeling helpless as a Dad

Kaine BartonLeave a comment

Sometimes, as a Dad, I feel inadequate (I think this is the right word). Sometimes as a Dad I feel helpless.

Last night a prime example of this.

Jesse had a big and a long day yesterday. He spent time at Nanny and Poppy’s place (Renee’s parents). Then he came with us to Grandma and Grandpa’s house (my parent’s). All with minimal napping in between.

And by the time we got home he was overtired. And when I say overtired, I really do mean overtired. It was somewhere around 8 pm and he should have been asleep and in bet at least an hour and a half ago.

He was at that point where he was awake, but we just couldn’t figure out what he wanted or how to get him to sleep.

And this is where my feelings of helplessness started to kick in.

Renee would be holding him and hugging him and trying to get him to sleep, and despite the fact that he was fighting it, he seemed happy to be with her. He wasn’t unsettled. He wasn’t crying. And he wasn’t looking around in desperation for someone else to take him.

As soon as Renee would pass Jesse to me however, he would become instantly unsettled. He would start balling his eyes out. And he would look around and be reaching out in desperation for Mummy.

Renee would take Jesse back and he’d stop.

She would hand him back to me, and straight away he’d start up with the crying again.

It’s not the first time this has happened. And I know it may very well not be the last. But when it does happen… it breaks my heart a little every time.

The fact that it’s like Jesse just can’t even stand the thought of being with me in that moment. That he fights so hard to get away from me and back to Renee. That he just wan’t nothing to do with me, pushing away from me as hard as he can with his little arms and legs.

It is really upsetting… And last night, I think I let it get to me a little too much.

I just couldn’t handle any more rejection, so after one last ditch effort to get him to settle, I put him down on his play mat, crying and all, and went to bed (Renee wasn’t far away, so she did grab him not 30 seconds after I put him down).

I was done. Done for the night. Done on a night where I felt like he hated me and loved Renee (despite the fact that I know that’s not the case).

I know that the way I reacted probably wasn’t ideal. Mainly, because I know that sometimes babies just need their mums.

But I really wish in those moments, that I could somehow do more. That somehow, I could get him to settle… get him to sleep… and not feel totally lost and helpless as a Dad.

I know that I’m probably not the first Dad to have this problem, and it would be interesting to hear from other dads as to what they did to try and solve it, if there was indeed a solution.

But, what I need to do in those moments, is realise that he doesn’t hate me. That I’m not inadequate as a Dad.

But rather in that moment… he just wants his mummy.

Nothing more, nothing less…

Jesse Sleeping

How to write a successful parenting blog

Kaine BartonLeave a comment

Parenting blogs…

They’re not exactly a new innovation in the online blogosphere. And by that I mean there’s plenty of them out there. With the content of all these blogs varying from parenting advice to funny anecdotes about being shat on and everything in between.

You could say our blog fits in that ‘everything in between’ space.

I will say this however… When we first came up with this crazy idea to add to our social media presence and start a blog and brand it Not So Secret Life Of Us (NSSLOU), a parenting blog wasn’t exactly what we had in mind for it. We are simply humans documenting and sharing our lives through social media. And while the bigger picture for our NSSLOU project remains the same, at this very moment, one could argue that we do somewhat fall into the parenting blog category.

But what makes a successful parenting blog? Or any blog for that matter. Well, we are still figuring that one out. But what keeps coming up as a topic of conversation in our household is what we DON’T want for our blog.

History shows us that being relatable and raw (with a touch of humour) can be the best way to create a successful blog. Regardless of whether you’re a parenting blog, a personal development blog or a blog about sneakers. If people can relate to your experiences and have a laugh because they feel your story is reflected in their own daily lives in some way, you are more likely to build up a large audience of loyal followers.

But can being “raw” go too far?

There have been a couple of blogs and posts that have really blown up recently. And I’ll admit, one or two of the posts were quite funny. But when it comes to the content of these blogs, every post follows the same formula. They are always negative… They are always vulgar… And they are always attempting to be humorous for maximum viral-ability (that’s a word right?).

We certainly try and keep our blog as relatable and light-hearted as we can. But we don’t think we need to use profanity or crudeness to get our message across. Nor do we write content solely for the hope it will go viral. We write from the heart, we write with truth, we try to write with humour, and we try and stay as positive as we can. Because frankly, that’s how we live our lives. We love being parents and we love being married. And while neither are fun or rosy all the time we always try to see the positive side. We are honest and raw, but we are not negative. Why? Well, we think there is already enough negative in the world today. And we don’t need to add to that.

Everywhere you look there is negative. The six o’clock news is almost always entirely filled with bad news. Social media is jam packed with people having a whinge and bullying. There are mums attacking other mums. Dads attacking other dads. People attacking parents for their parenting choices.

When you weigh up the good against the bad, sadly the negative wins by an overwhelming margin.

And this is where, in our opinion, some “parenting” blogs have gone too far. One of the comments left on a particular post summed it up perfectly:

“Everything she says is very negative and depressing. I don’t find being a wife or mother negative in any way, shape or form, and love every second of my wifey role and parenting. Even when I get shat and vomited on. She drains the life from me and makes me feel sad. No good will come from glamorising depression, and its sad that so many women empathise with her and feel this way. I just want to help them all but don’t know how. It’s not supposed to feel like ____ describes it. It’s not…”

Many people obviously like reading these rude, crude and pessimistic posts, because otherwise they wouldn’t be as successful as they have been. But it’s just not our bag. If that is what we have to do to go viral then we’ll happily just keep our small group of followers. Retaining our integrity is more important to us than a ‘flash in the pan’ viral post.

We won’t be changing our approach to this great journey that we are on with NSSLOU. From the start, we had always imagined this to be a positive environment that encourages and uplifts people, parents or not. The kind of place where you could come along and go, ‘Wow… I’m not the only one who’s going through that’.

And not only that, create a place to share out story and journey for our son (and future children)… and their kids… and their kids kids to look back on and feel proud of what mum and dad accomplished not only as parents, but with this blog.

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If we can add just a little bit more kindness, positivity and fun into the world while we’re at it, then we have accomplished our goal. And if we can encourage a few others to be more positive in their own lives and towards each other then that’s awesome too.

Let’s put an end to speaking negatively of our partners and our lives and our parenting skills and others. And maybe, together, we can start to change the negative landscape that is parenting in today’s digital age.