Tag Archive | tired mum

Im home from the hospital….lucky me

What can I say?  I’m home.

Tired?  Yep. Dreaming of nothing but sleep & wine?  Yep.  Wondering how the hell I’m going to make it through the next few months…yep, yep, friggin YEPPPPPP!!!  Gina Ford was clearly on acid, or had a night nurse/rich Daddy.

The Captain keeps pointing out that I have “2 domestic helpers”  to assist with the kids. Can I point out that those “helpers” have burnt EVERYTHING, accidentally killed our goldfish “Dorothy” by putting hot water instead of cold in her fish bowl, let both my kids almost drown in Bali (until I jumped into the pool (4 months preg), forgot to turn off the gas, water, lock the doors etc.  Yes… I feel sooo safe leaving my kids with, well, two adults who resemble grown children.  Two Helpers does not a mother make.

For those of you who struggle with (a) guilt, (b) guilt, and (c) guilt for not spending enough time with your family … leaving your kids to helpers just isn’t a 24 hour option. Unless you want a totally spoilt brat for a child (which was not in the IVF/my life brochure), also, I’m fucking strict.  I’ve read sooo many books on parenting that its coming out my arse.

Be strict, don’t be strict, tell them “no”, accept “yes”….bla bla bla.  I recently had my son (aka “Satan”) walk from our car to our apartment without one of his shoes on last weekend (the Captain was repulsed & yet managed to bite his lip, despite his OCD when it comes to “dirt”) because my son insists on taking them off every car journey.  He also has selective language skills. ie. some days English, some days, nothing at all but he can rely on his twin sister to answer for him anytime.   My boy is lazy, manipulative and super bright when he chooses to be.  He also knows how to sort the weak from the strong .  He’s already done it at home with our Helpers and family which means, Im the only one giving him any discipline as everyone else falls for his doey eyed brown long lashes…cheeky genius.  Why do I have no patience with this?  That said, he’s NEVER taken his shoes off in the car since.  I have THREE brothers…. they all did the same thing.  Attention was needed all the time and I was left on the side line.

I’m also surprised at how quickly I fell in love with our new arrival.  I honestly thought that after months of feeling very negative while pregnant (apparently this was due to hormones to test my marriage & all those vows) which I have never EVER experienced, considering I’m a generally unbalanced weekend alcoholic (some days although this book I’m reading has curbed the alcohol. Disturbingly). I was worried I wouldn’t “bond” and would blame our new arrival for, well…. anything.  I read the book “We need to talk about Kevin” when it first can out…. I worried recently that I was going to experience the same shit.  Was I going to really dislike this child?  Did she ruin my life (although I hated HK already)?

I know when you’re pregnant, you’re body does crazy things and you feel tired. Once you give birth, you can feel very alone and absolutely shattered.  I look at the Captain sometimes, begging him to just “stay” with me when he heads off to work.  Something that would never happen were we at home in London. I’m clearly tired and I’m also aware of being on my own. My friends at home…well… they would know to just show up and keep an eye on me (thats having a history for you).   Living abroad is tough.  I dont miss London, but, I miss my girlfriends.

Anyhow, how had I forgotten the sheer exhaustion us new mums feel?  I swear I see rainbows and leprechauns most mornings when I’m feeding our new-born monkey, yes minus acid pills/magic mushrooms/any other pain killer.  I’m knackered at the best of times but now, bloody hell!!  I can’t even speak or leave the house, just because that would involve interacting with the outside world while I look like total and utter shite.  Tracksuit bottoms and X large T-Shirts are my wardrobe.

I dont want to brush my hair (good thing I got that Brazilian blow-dry on Groupon before I gave birth), I would like to brush my teeth (Captain insists on that one due to halitosis that has suddenly appeared), I dont want to get changed out of my maternity Winnie the Pooh night-dress (the only thing that fits me and, well lets face it, it’s fucking comfortable).  Also, I had a C section which means, I’m in AGONY at the mo.   Even with the drugs, which, if I’m honest, are not like the ones I could get in the UK, it’s not enough.  I think they regulate stuff here 😦  I’m tired, angry, twitchy (which means I want to fight non stop), nothing fits me (ie. maternity wear is too big and my old clothes too tight).  It’s really depressing.  I don’t know what I expected this time round but… well…. I expected to sleep & …. quick weight loss at least!

Too posh to push you think? Nope. Too terrified is more like it and as nature would kindly have it, if I were to attempt birth via the usual, alleged natural, route, I would be wearing sexy incontinence pants forever (stick that in your judgemental pipe and smoke it “Miss I want kids naturally. Why don’t you?”).  I’ve had discussions with some really annoying people who have asked me “why not give birth naturally?”

These are the same annoying people who want to give birth in a swimming pool with dolphins and sing songs about love every night to their newborn while sharing beds 24 hours a day, as well as saliva.  Fuck off!!  Errrr…. hello!  You’re the same women, BEGGING for an epidural when the reality of pain hits you!!  Miss “I want to do this naturally”, is suddenly, “Miss Give me everything you’ve got” when the shit hits the fan. Yes, I’m going to judge you. Cheeky sods.  Stop telling me what to do. It really annoys me…and, I’m sorry, BUT, you don’t make better mothers. You don’t. In fact, you’re the annoying one’s I’m praying my son doesn’t knock up.  That’ll be an interesting conversation as no one even knows how the THE CAPTAIN will respond. I’m, for the record…. NORMAL.

Seriously, how does anyone have the right to ask you how you chose to give birth? SERIOUSLY? How judgemental are you to ask?  And… really …. just piss off.  If I wanted to give birth in a cave, in Pok Fu Lam, (West HK – dont think there are any?!), with a yogi as my guide and a Domestic Helper to pull the baby out, who are YOU to tell me thats not right?  I swear, it’s driving me mad how EVERYONE has an opinion on what you should do and when you should do it.  Because their way is clearly the right way?  No it isn’t!! Nothing in life is the right way.  Just do it your way.  Always.  Fuck everyone else. They know sod all in any event.

What do I miss about my pregnancy?  Zilch, nil, bubcus, zero, niente… nothing!!   If you mean, do I miss feeling like a fat cow and arguing non-stop with my husband because I was being, and I quote, “disgusting”, then nope. I dont miss one second of this pregnancy.  The Captain told me I was a different person. Not something you want to hear when you’re going through a shitty phase as it is. If only men knew how SHIT it could be.  It’s a weird kinda life where you don’t care who you are anymore. Very odd.

What do I miss post baby?  The Matilda Hospital, AKA, the Four Seasons for new Mums everywhere.  This Hospital AKA “Hotel”, should be in every country.

I swear all mums should go and spend a week somewhere like the Matilda.  Somewhere where you order your meals, they take the baby away for feeding, and you get to sleep.  Ahhh… I was devastated when I left (as was the Captain when he picked up the worlds BIGGEST medical bill). Also, I met some lovely people by default.. especially the nurses.  There was ONE night nurse who quickly became my have.  This woman would turn up and offer me legal drugs without judgement. I LOVED her.  Some nurses do judge but not this one.  I have about 5 photos with her when I left.  Everyone thought mine was the crazy “tidy” room (I’m super tidy).  People would walk in and be like “Have you been cleaning?”…yes…I’m ashamed to say, I put my shoes away in a cupboard with my jacket and I put my stuff away.  How messy are you people?!  Seriously!!?

It’s no wonder the rich and famous have their kids there.  I’m neither but, its where us ex-pats have our kids dahling. Who am I to argue with that?  On arriving at the Hotel Matilda, we were given a menu on which room options I had for my 5 night package.  If I shared with 2 or 4 others, well, the bill would have been much smaller. BUT, the Captain, being the big girls blouse that he is (i wouldn’t have argued actually), said “No. You have your own room as I wouldn’t want to share”. I buttoned my lip there and then, looked at the twins and thought, “yeh…fuck it! I’m tired””. Also, I’m alone.  I felt that this time round, even with wonderful friends turning up to show me some love.  I felt sad. I wanted my friends from home and my Mum.  I’m clearly quite simple.

Let me give you an example of what I was missing after leaving …. view photos below before I continue my wonderful tale.

And photo number 2 of my wonderful bedroom.

And err…number 3…my club sandwich during lunch. What a wondrous, fabulous place this Matilda is…

The photo below is a my view from my BALCONY (hahahaaaaaa) at night.  I was in bed by 9pm most nights.  Bloody amazing.

The above is a daytime view which was sometimes sooo cloudy, you couldn’t see bugger all.  I didn’t care though… I was staying at the Matilda Hospital (& the now very poor Captain has the bills to prove it!) That said, people who live in the Peak must be walking around on clouds (literally).  The roads are windy, the views obscured by clouds and well, you’re miles away from anything.  Then again, I hate leaving the house if I can help it, so maybe it just felt that way.  Plus the morphine and various drugs helped me forget a lot of things.  Everyone, en route up to La Matilda (Le/La…I’m not sure which?), was walking a dog and had a Rolex.  RICH.

Anyhow, hopefully, you get the picture.  I spent 5 days in absolute Mummy Heaven (in fact, that sounds like a club I used to go to in Kings Cross where you did pills I couldn’t handle and went home in a cab you were afraid of).  Good times.  HK…I’m still not in love with it BUT, I will say this.  I’m now 35 (yes, old goat), and I still feel 25. I have 3 kids and thankfully a bloke I love.  He understands me and I LOVE THAT.

Baby No.3  WELCOME.


Legal drugs. Even better.  Nurses who don’t judge… you are my favourites.

ps. The Matilda… I lied when I said I needed more morphine.

Are you a Mum to Twins? Are you Tired? Are you sooo tired you fall asleep mid-conversation?

Tired Mum?!   Yep…that’s me.  I’m soo tired that when I took the twins for their MMR this week (which BTW i was shit scared about after reading up on it ….) the Dr asked ME, if I was ok.  Cheeky MF (I put make-up on too the git).  

Anyhow…. I have heard back from some of you lovely gals, who promise (unless you’re all bloody lying in which case stop emailing me with fake hope), that shit will get easier.  The kids apparently do grow up, I apparently chill out a bit, and apparently the Captain’s penis grows bigger as a prize (ok…that was a joke…its already HUGE.  In fact, any bigger and he’ll be in the Guinness Book of Records).

So… seriously. I’m having a week on, then a shit week off … of general tiredness.  Yes, I’m a lucky cow for having help bla bla bla. I don’t care what you think.  I’m not some privileged asshole.  If I was here or in Katmandu… I would be BEGGING someone to help me with twins.  It’s not a joke, despite IVF and all sorts of fertility treatment for nearly two whole years (you name it, I did every sodding, undignified thing I had to do).  I love these kids but I don’t feel guilty for asking someone to wake at 6.30am to feed my monkeys while I have an extra 2 hours in bed. Why? (a) I’d be a real miserable bitch of a Mum if I didn’t, (b) She gets paid more than I do (although apparently I live in lala land where my bank account has an endless supply of cash…according to the hubby) & (c) I have terrible insomnia.  I always have, which means at 4am, when I’m EXHAUSTED & WANT to sleep… nothing happens … I’m awake.  I’m organising, polishing silver (quite relaxing actually) and generally wandering around our shoe box apartment, dyyyying to sleep.

I have what’s generally known as “Para-insomnia”…. basically, I also get to experience (as does my poor Captain) weird dreams that are sooo real, I’m literally wandering around the room, chasing a nightmare.  I almost opened our balcony door (fast asleep, not because I’m suicidal…. it was before the kids were born, clearly!) thinking it was the bathroom.  My parents had to put extra bolts on our front door when I was about 11 years old as I would sleep walk everywhere (you don’t even want to know what happened at boarding school…. which I was pulled out of after one month because we were in the middle of a mountain and I was clearly a threat to, well, myself!).  

Crazy?  Me? Nope…. its “Para Insomnia”… or in my mind… another fucking thing to deal with on top of everything else.  The night before my best friends wedding, I woke up one of her bridesmaids (also one of my very old school friends who loves me/& I her, so no one who would get weirded out…. trying to wind her as in my dream, she was my son and I couldnt understand how he was wearing purple PJ’s.  This is the 4th time I have woken someone (yes, of course its almost always The Captain… or my Mum, once).  It seems to have got worse when I’m tired, or stressed.  I actually feel quite happy though, so I’m not quite sure where its all flowing out from!?

Sooooo…. all you Mummys out there having a tired week, feeling down, maybe a little alone…. or just… welll… fed up as its the SAME thing, day in, day out (kinda like “Groundhog day” as one good friend described it)  It’s fine.  Just relax.  It does get better and easier…. and the minute it does….. I’m packing these cheeky sods off to boarding school.

Tired, Insomnia, Valium….. HELP!! I NEED TO SLEEP

So for the last few months, I have found it hugely impossible to sleep (unless I consume a bottle of red wine accompanied by a lovely cheese platter…. usually at 1am).  I had to go to the Dr’s this week and ask for anything and everything to knock me out.  In Hong Kong, they can give you Stilnox (totally  illegal in the UK).  I asked for a 100 and was given 10….. along with details of a “Sleep Clinic” (what the fuck is that?!) …. and also a shrink. 

I’m now down to my last 2 sleeping pills (gutted) and still….. no fucking sleep. Plus, I swear I can hear the kids crying in their sleep and yet by the time I run into their room …. nothing greets me but silence (unless one of them has managed to work their way up the cotbed and wedged themselves at the top).   I have also had a recurring dream since they were born, that I have lost one or both children in the bed sheets and have literally woken the Captain on numerous occasions …. searching for them in our bed (or on the floor when I think they have fallen out of the bed).   I have to stress that the Twins have never ever slept with us.   Has anyone else experienced this madness??   Can it be cured with a shit load of booze and a Valium?!   I actually woke up  the Captain last night trying to “wind” him (he said it was nearly 4am and the poor bastard had to get up for work in a couple of hours).

Now, as all Mums of small babies and toddlers know…. YOU’RE TIRED.   ALL THE TIME!!

I mean, even when I’m asleep, I’m never really asleep as I have to be alert in case one baby wakes, or the other, usually my daughter, will headbutt her cotbed sooo loudly that I have to run into their nursery and check she’s not actually hurt herself.   She’s still fast asleep, of course, and I’m stood there, at 3am, wearing an unsightly Winnie the Poo nightdress from my maternity days (The Captain fucking hates this top but its soooo comfy), and wearing my head torch (Chilean Miner stylie), thinking, I AM NEVER GOING TO SLEEP PROPERLY AGAIN.  EVER.  Well, not until they’re about 80 years old and I’m dead and buried ….. at least I’ll get to sleep then eh (every cloud has a silver lining).

Right, its 2.30am HK time, I’m absolutely exhausted and my Valium is kicking in nicely.   Lets see what tomorrow holds.  

I have a ladies luncheon (oh Dahling yah) which I find sooo unbelievably difficult as I can’t do small talk with strangers (I’m officially shit at it) and I get bored soo easily.  I usually arrive with an excuse to leave early judging on what people are wearing (FYI my style is a cross between Rock Chick/Can’t be arsed/Tart…. it all depends on how much sleep I got the night before).  

If there are more geeks than not, I’m leaving as I know (a) no one will order wine because its midday, which apparently means it’s too early.  How pathetic is that?!   I mean it’s a LUNCH!?  Whats a lunch without alcohol?  We don’t have the kids with us so whats everyone’s excuse?  Plus, if you’re the ONLY one to order wine, you know everyone’s going to be calling you a lush behind your back the minute you pop off to the ladies to do a cheeky line of coke (joke) (b) there’s no wine (c) I hate meeting strangers who keep looking over your shoulder to get involved in another conversation in case they are missing out.   AND they’re the ones who are sooo fucking boring you would never normally speak to them anyway but because you didnt arrive early, and theres usually no seating plan, you get stuck with some random bird who you have absolutely nothing in common with.  And she’s looking at you like you’re beneath her (because I’ve ordered a white wine with a Tequila chaser…. judgemental cow).

I’ll let you know how the lunch is.   If I actually decide to go.