Living with lists...
I don't seem to have much success with lists.
I can write them, & follow to a certain point, then the 'random' in me takes over, & I just seem to rebel.
I was never one who could live with routine. I hated being told to treat my babies as some 'routine'. Do this on Dot A. Do that on Dot B.
I used to think I would scream if I heard the word 'Routine' one more time. I felt my babies were people, ....perhaps like me, who didn't always feel like A on Dot A, or B on Dot B.
What about mood swings? What about whimsy? What about contrary? Who decreed that babies couldn't feel the same,...perhaps wanting variation?
I tried to follow the 'rules' of "Plunket", which was the main source of guidance for new mothers in the 'babyhood' years in my babies' lives in New Zealand. My mother had been the 'victim' of this regime also. She kept my Plunket Record Book, & presented it to me, years later. She agreed, I had been a somewhat contrary being, even way back then!
I probably do the "Plunket" an injustice here, as they really were a source of help & guidance for new mothers. I do believe Plunket probably saved many babies lives, in an age when babies may otherwise have died, through sheer ignorance, & lack of understanding of babies' needs.
Weeping at the feeling I was inadequate, & worrying about my son, the first "AGED"
read Doddering Plunket nurse to 'home visit' me, almost caused me a breakdown. All she could talk about was her 'overseas' stint where babies starved to death due to lack of breast milk among the mothers, then a further story about a mother who drowned her baby in the bath, to quiet it down. I was almost a 'gibbering idiot' (thankyou Tanya, the Art Butcher) by the time she left. Why would she tell me such things?? Did she suspect I would drown my precious baby, in some moment of insanity? Did she know that I suspected my breast milk to be inadequate?
Traumatic times. My mother lived on another Island- too far for daily consult. My MIL kept insisting my son needed 'Water'. She snatched him from my arms at every visit, insisting on pumping him full of warm water. Preserve us from MILs. I would never, & have never done that to a young mother!!
My babies survived my seeming inadequate mothering, perhaps to the disbelief of the MIL.
snigger, nyah nyah.
I have always tried to respect my daughter's ability to be a mother. I have tried not to over step, or over-instruct. I really do believe in mother's instinct. I also believe that every mother does her best, to the best of her ability.
Living with a Retired Husband.
This is something noone warned me about!
At first, when he was Semi Retired, it was great!
I loved the extra time we had to spend together. We spent time together, & it was fun, & we seemed to be in 'tune' one might say.
Finally he Retired, altogether. A whole different set of rules became apparent.
Gradually he has assumed responsibility for the tidiness of the pantry.
The stacking of the Freezers. The placement of pots, pans, in the cupboards.
Who knew!! All the years I had been in charge of such things, I had made botch of it all! I had organised things in actual 'disarray'!!
My lovely, anti-list style was all wrong! I needed to be 'routinised'
is there such a word? if not Hitler has coined it! I am periodically shocked to find I have been a virtual F***wit at housekeeping!!
The weekend's party for Family & Friends, was very nice. I was told to b***er off, it was all taken care of! Some of the Actual Words were "Get out of MY kitchen". You may imagine the ire that raised in my mind!!
However, I went away, & while licking my metaphorical wounds, I decided "Who cares?" "If this is what he wants... I wont argue!"
This has become his new "Domain". His new "Realm". He is Leo. He needs to feel King Of His Kingdom.
I can learn to live with that. I am a lover of my freedom, my own space. He has always allowed me that personal space. I can bend. I can adapt.
It is not always easy "Living with."
Living with new habits on Television Viewing.
The roaring emanating from the Lounge Television, is very hard to bear. I sneak out to turn down the sound, when Gom is not in the room. He is actually out in "His Kitchen" cooking his Steak Sandwich".
I turn it down! Bliss. I can concentrate without intrusive 'St Vitus Dance Finger.' Which is a condition peculiar to Gom--- but may be contagious, or well known among other aging male fingers. I have even heard it can be a female affliction. I don't suffer from that particular disease, thankfully.
Living with that condition is very difficult. Just when you are hearing some interesting piece of news... flick!, inane comedies follow! Or snatches of cartoons! or some Commercial sludge...ye gods, the electronic age is full of items designed specifically to Drive One Mad!!
The frenzied, & frenetic clicking is driving me crazy!! Along with the Retired Hitler, the Garden Vandal, I am surrounded with Crazy!!
Heelllllppp!! Sinking here!
From the weekend, with family....
"Who's your Daddy?"
There could be no doubt!!
Honey Loves SGs Daddy too!
Stanley had a lot of fun.
Randi Crawford, Knocking on Heavens Door.
Tuesday, June 10
Living with lists...