![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
whitewriterUntil the re-useable nappies will be "done" according to the magic that is the modern washing machine. I wish that I could find the time to wash the nappies during the day when the sun is out and the solar is hopefully working its magic but thats when kiddo is awake and I haven't figured out re-useable nappies that well yet.
Goals.
Currently I'm trying to wash then using natural soap and as per manufacturer's instructions which include: no soaking, no soaps with enzymes, no water >40 degrees.
Actually they seem rather clean- now that I've got them out of the wash. They dry rather fast too, surprisingly.
Once you get me on here it's just like a sausage roll.... The nappies are drying but I got shit to write...
So. I want to go to Marrickville to pick up the stuff I got from KMART for the hens I'm organising for Saturday (seriously can't keep myself on one task only) and I get there and decide to do the working with childrens check I was supposed to do weeks and weeks ago but hadn't gotten to. Today's antics summarise the relationship between myself and my mother really well.
There's a huge line to get into service NSW and before I jump in it I want to make sure its the right line and I'm not wasting my time. There's a lady at the front and she's come out from inside the center to sort of disperse the crowd and tell people where to go - and I'm waiting to catch her attention - you know, politely and my mother is behind me holding the kid and she's like go! ask! go! ask! and I tell her, I will, but I need to wait cause its rude. And shes like but others are butting in!
Eventually the lady looks my way and informs the long line is the correct line.
So I get in it. Then my mum takes wendy off for a nap-
she's fussing and all and I know it's for sleep but she won't sleep in the carrier if I'm not walking.
Afterward I want to go to kmart to pick some stuff up- so we walk over , and getting to the pickup counter there's another huge line. wendy starts crying. She's slept and woken and I hadn't fed her. My mum's determined its because Wendy doesn't like the carrier. I tell her no it's cause she's waiting for her lunch and she hasn't had it yet. I try to get my mum to wait in line with the barcode to collect the item but she's like I don't understand how to do it - and instead insists on taking the kid away and walking with her. So Okay, I give her Wendy (who shuts up but requires walking around) and once I get to the front of the line and realise I'm in the wrong kmart (omg mother's brain) and I go to my mum and Wendy and I want to put her in the carrier. My mum's like but she's happy - and I tell her - well that's cool but holding her can damage your wrists like it's screwed up mine (well this is preventable with exercise - but grandma hasn't done any bulking wrist and arm exercises) and she's like well not yet - and I argue back - well when its stuffed it up then it's too late by then.
Kid comes back into the carrier. Starts fussing again. I'm like she needs feeding. My mum says no it's the carrier is uncomfortable - and I'm like no -- she's not fed - we're doing sleep eat play sleep eat play consistently and It's been really good. -anyways. So I take grandma and Wendy to the feeding room --
which is amazing these days I must say. Wendy eats. Then we walk around the mall with baby in the carrier perfectly happy and quiet now that she's had her meal.
What can I say.
It's been a similar relationship since my teens but back then I figured she's older and probably knows better (about everything except school work and university pathways considering she only went to yr 9 and that was overseas).
But now I'm 30, have my own house... completed a couple of degrees, worked 10 years in 1 job (more or less) organised all her paperwork for government benefits, pay her bills, and sorted hers and my dad's finances...
Your not gonna boss me around on this one... Too much confidence over here.
The only thing that kills me is that everytime she comes over I feel like she's judging the cleanliness of my house now (like before baby I seriously didn't give 2 fucks and mostly Pete did the basic cleaning. I was barely home anyway, either at work - either of my 2 jobs - or dragon boating ) so I actually put a lot of effort into trying to keep it as presentable as possible without her help.
She still comes over and re-cleans my floors anyways but I figure, eh. Clean floors. That's not a bad thing.
Goals.
Currently I'm trying to wash then using natural soap and as per manufacturer's instructions which include: no soaking, no soaps with enzymes, no water >40 degrees.
Actually they seem rather clean- now that I've got them out of the wash. They dry rather fast too, surprisingly.
Once you get me on here it's just like a sausage roll.... The nappies are drying but I got shit to write...
So. I want to go to Marrickville to pick up the stuff I got from KMART for the hens I'm organising for Saturday (seriously can't keep myself on one task only) and I get there and decide to do the working with childrens check I was supposed to do weeks and weeks ago but hadn't gotten to. Today's antics summarise the relationship between myself and my mother really well.
There's a huge line to get into service NSW and before I jump in it I want to make sure its the right line and I'm not wasting my time. There's a lady at the front and she's come out from inside the center to sort of disperse the crowd and tell people where to go - and I'm waiting to catch her attention - you know, politely and my mother is behind me holding the kid and she's like go! ask! go! ask! and I tell her, I will, but I need to wait cause its rude. And shes like but others are butting in!
Eventually the lady looks my way and informs the long line is the correct line.
So I get in it. Then my mum takes wendy off for a nap-
she's fussing and all and I know it's for sleep but she won't sleep in the carrier if I'm not walking.
Afterward I want to go to kmart to pick some stuff up- so we walk over , and getting to the pickup counter there's another huge line. wendy starts crying. She's slept and woken and I hadn't fed her. My mum's determined its because Wendy doesn't like the carrier. I tell her no it's cause she's waiting for her lunch and she hasn't had it yet. I try to get my mum to wait in line with the barcode to collect the item but she's like I don't understand how to do it - and instead insists on taking the kid away and walking with her. So Okay, I give her Wendy (who shuts up but requires walking around) and once I get to the front of the line and realise I'm in the wrong kmart (omg mother's brain) and I go to my mum and Wendy and I want to put her in the carrier. My mum's like but she's happy - and I tell her - well that's cool but holding her can damage your wrists like it's screwed up mine (well this is preventable with exercise - but grandma hasn't done any bulking wrist and arm exercises) and she's like well not yet - and I argue back - well when its stuffed it up then it's too late by then.
Kid comes back into the carrier. Starts fussing again. I'm like she needs feeding. My mum says no it's the carrier is uncomfortable - and I'm like no -- she's not fed - we're doing sleep eat play sleep eat play consistently and It's been really good. -anyways. So I take grandma and Wendy to the feeding room --
which is amazing these days I must say. Wendy eats. Then we walk around the mall with baby in the carrier perfectly happy and quiet now that she's had her meal.
What can I say.
It's been a similar relationship since my teens but back then I figured she's older and probably knows better (about everything except school work and university pathways considering she only went to yr 9 and that was overseas).
But now I'm 30, have my own house... completed a couple of degrees, worked 10 years in 1 job (more or less) organised all her paperwork for government benefits, pay her bills, and sorted hers and my dad's finances...
Your not gonna boss me around on this one... Too much confidence over here.
The only thing that kills me is that everytime she comes over I feel like she's judging the cleanliness of my house now (like before baby I seriously didn't give 2 fucks and mostly Pete did the basic cleaning. I was barely home anyway, either at work - either of my 2 jobs - or dragon boating ) so I actually put a lot of effort into trying to keep it as presentable as possible without her help.
She still comes over and re-cleans my floors anyways but I figure, eh. Clean floors. That's not a bad thing.
