The Really Honest Mom

Once upon a time, in my pre-child life, I think I could have been classified as "cool". I played drums in a pop duo called The Arrows for almost a decade. We got to do some pretty cool stuff in our time. Stuff like living in LA, getting taken for our first tattoos in downtown San Diego by our amazing friend Sonny (POD frontman), playing shows in front of thousands of excited people, recording an album in New York City, being sponsored by adidas Originals, seeing Jack Johnson live in Dallas (I must pause here momentarily for a brief account of one of the best nights of my entire life! Haters can hate but I love me some Jack Johnson. I sound like an old man when I sing so I try not to impose my awfulness upon people, but that stormy, stinking hot night in Dallas, I sang at the top of my voice and ended up losing my shoes due to my dancing in the rain. It was worth every second! I'm sorry about shoving someone out the way at the merchandise table, but that shirt with the s...

No one can accurately explain that awful time in life when your child begins the process of getting teeth. Or maybe that's just me and my child. Some people have easy teethers. Wow - that concept is as far away from me as lying on a perfect fine white sand, coconut palm tree, clear blue water Caribbean beach, complete with pina colada in hand. Very very far away. This process in our house has consisted of a lot of midnight screaming, drooling, chewing, licking, biting, shouting and general intense sadness. Nevaeh is not a good teether. And on top of it all, the teeth she has cut are very squew. Poor kid. The combined gene pool of me and Sid is just not a winner in this department. Our teeth are vaguely straight now, but that's due to years of orthodontic visits. Shout out to anyone who endured ulcers, elastics and that special wax... Back to the process known commonly as "teething". What people don't tell you is that it can resemble the tribulation.  I have ...

Thank you, Medical Aid, we are painfully aware that our "funds are depleted". I have to be honest, I wonder if the people who set up medical aid package options know what doctors cost, what medication costs, and how much small people cost to keep alive. Maybe you're one of those super blessed people whose kids have never done anything but a polite little sneeze once in their lifetime. Or maybe, like me, you have a child that's been rushed to hospital on more occasions than you'd like to admit, has to be on reflux medication daily, and has an intense disdain for "fruit flavored medicinal syrups" which results in explosive projectile vomiting that would give North Korea a run for its money. I suspect that whoever the taster guy is for pharmaceutical companies has no functional taste buds, because I have tasted all of the syrups my offspring has, and I can assure you that Buscopan does not taste like banana. Not at all. Not even vaguely reminiscent of any...

My friend Sarah-Dawn sent me a tweet by someone that said, "People are like, 'It takes a village to raise a child' and I'm like ,'Can you give me the address for that village?' Cos I could really use the help." I cannot adequately express how true this statement is, especially nowadays when living in isolation is becoming the norm . Parents need help. Before I had a child, I had so many opinions. I was going to have a picture perfect pregnancy, complete with pregnancy gym classes (laughs hysterically); I was going to birth a perfect baby that slept for 12 hours in a row and had the digestive system of a teenager; I was going to keep my house spotlessly clean and have dinner ready for my husband every night as he returned from work (this thought alone was lunacy as my culinary skills extend to making great toast); I was going to attend all the mom and baby groups and be a beacon of health and happiness. WRONG! If you've read my first few blog posts, y...

You know those little quirks your small people have? Those ones that make you feel like opening up a spray bottle of whipped cream and a jar of Nutella to see which of them could win the slide down your throat contest? Yes, those quirks. I have learnt, much to my chagrin, that those are my fault. It's genetic. I look at my daughter's distraught face and ensuing "I am very very very sad at you" tap dance, and tell her that she needs to be patient. Then I hear myself. In the midst of my, "Nevaeh, this is your Adamic nature coming out in full force" pep talk I have a quick mental flash of myself driving... And by that I mean pronouncing gloom and doom upon other drivers who frustrate me. "Patient" is definitely not a word that would be used to describe my temperament. I am somewhat ashamed to admit this, but I am inserting a copy of an actual text I sent out to some of my friends at midnight when I was immensely frustrated with a company called Envi...

A friend of mine once said, "Any home with a child under the age of 3 is in a constant state of crisis." My my, how true those words are. Today has been one of those really special days. The sort of days that make you wonder what you did wrong in order to deserve such an angry toddler. I have been shouted at by mine all day. I have tried desperately to feed it - I lost that battle. I have tried to keep it clean - I lost that battle too. In the end, her father managed to bath AND wash her hair without screams emerging from our small dictator akin to that of a herd of pigs being slaughtered. Every day is a new one, filled with many unknowns. Will the child eat toast with melrose cheese today, or is today an anti-toast day? Will yoghurt be imbibed or shunned today? No one knows. Every 24 hours holds in its hands a new adventure in the art of war, known in our household as “mealtime". I envy those mothers who have offspring that simply eat whatever they are given. It is a ...

I have become a Hoover. If there was a competition for "who can eat the most bits of food left uneaten by your toddler", I think I would win. I'm not proud of this, but it's a confession I must make. A few days ago, my little person was munching on a Pronutro bar. (Yes, I am aware that there is actual chocolate in it, and I know the super moms will be having panic attacks that feel like heart attacks right now. Maybe that makes me an awful mom, but the child will eat and swallow the snack bars unlike actual Pronutro itself which induces heaving, gagging and sometimes actual vomiting. It's called desperation.) A while after the Pronutro bar eating explosion which always results in bits of crumbly bar everywhere, the child did a poop -  I did the usual celebratory "thank you God we've had a poop so now maybe the night won't be so awful" dance . We get very excited about these things in this house. Fast forward a few hours and I found some smooshe...

I grew up with a truly phenomenal human named Phyllis. Allow me to explain. She moved in with me when I was about 8 years old and moved out when she went to study medicine. We had a very long journey together. I can tell you with absolute honesty that in all those years of sharing a room and living like sisters, I never ever saw Phyllis lose her temper or freak out. Not once. Even when we had a crazy lady chase us with a crowbar - that's a story for another day - she just laughed while our other friend Bailey and I screamed and cried. At every moment in life, Phyllis has been akin to the Rock of Gibraltar. Firm, unshakeable, solid, immovable, consistent, phenomenal. She is now a doctor. (I personally feel like all the practice she got patching me up as a kid was the preparation for her MD status now.) I won't even spend time telling you that she's basically Jesus in girl form, and that she's beyond talented in literally every single life department. Without her, I wou...

Can anyone explain the insanity of a toddler's taste buds to me? I don't offer a vast plethora of dietary options to my toddler. She has similar choices each day, but the hysteria that accompanies the spoon coming towards her as though it were some form of mutant fish head soup really does get to me. I feel a type of rage that is probably irrational, but I am constantly afraid that my child isn’t getting enough calories in her body. My granny was a born and bred Lebanese feeder. Think “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” - you know the moms and aunts who just feed and feed and feed and feed? Well, that was my granny. That seems to have passed along to me when it comes to feeding Nevaeh. Even though she is growing well, I'm still paranoid that she might lose weight and that causes deep terror in my soul. And so we fight. Every single day.  I have become a theatre singer and dancer -even though I really don't like the theatre - all in a desperate attempt to amuse my child lon...

My offspring must think I am some form of highly evolved robotic energy source that has zero need for consistent sleep. Currently, I feel as though I got thrown backwards down a well filled with peanut butter and cacti fronds, because last night was a new level of awful. The little creature had me up at least 20 times and I say that with no exaggeration (tough as that may be to believe because of my peanut butter comment). She's 14 months old and I have had 2 full nights of sleep since the day she was born. At this moment, all the wonder moms who have angelic children who slept through the night from when they were 17 minutes old will be frowning and twitching at what must be my terrible mothering. Yes, I've tried chamomile tea. Yes, I've tried gripe water. Yes, I've tried no stimulating activities before "bedtime". Yes, I've tried everything. But thank you in advance for your suggestions that helped your angel child to sleep so wonderfully from the mill...

It is a terrifying moment in life when you leave the hospital after giving birth. I spent 3 days in the amazing maternity ward at Hillcrest Hospital because I had a C-section. For those of you who are deeply perturbed now and are asking the usual list of lawyer like questions to any woman who dares confess she had her baby that way, I promise my child isn't at all damaged psychologically because of my decision to give birth that way. My magnificent and kind Gynae, Dr Ganguram, suggested I have one because of the intense pregnancy I had and because my amniotic fluid was very low. I still housed the child and grew her and she came out perfectly healthy, thank God. (I'll take this opportunity to confess that I also didn't breast feed. I wanted to. I wanted to so badly that I was pumped like a dairy cow 3 times a day by a darling midwife named Annie who relentlessly encouraged me, even when I did not get a single drop of colostrum. After blisters on my nipples and plenty of m...

Well hello there. I am one of those humans who stays at home with their baby. I think I must be insane. I sit here trying to type out some thoughts whilst wrestling my 14 month old away from my laptop, all the while thinking, “Is today the day she finally succeeds in climbing into the freezer, the dishwasher or washing machine?” (I hope it’s the washing machine because the freezer is far more dangerous.) My offspring - a beautiful blue eyed cherub - is in that kamikaze lemming phase of life. I think each day she wakes up and thinks, "Hmm, how can I die really quickly and dramatically today? Ok awesome, I’m going to try that right now!”. Before I really get deep into philosophizing about the why’s of toddlerhood, let me start at the beginning of my journey.  I thought I was ready for a baby. ( Inserts hysterical, somewhat maniacal laughter. ) I thought I knew what was coming because I had au-paired. (Inserts more hysterical, bordering on crying laughter. ) I thought I knew a ...