Working mum

It's Tuesday morning and my week-end begins. Kind of... I spent a large part of the week-end working while Chris spent a large part of his week-end taking care of Hugo. These days, I consider the traditional week-end to be my working, or should I say my 'earning' week and as a result, Chris and I don't get much leisure time to share but it is all for the greater good, we suppose.

Someone else might have done it differently, squeezing little bits of work throughout the days, while the baby naps, or in the evenings. I have tried and found it very challenging. Hugo is too unpredictable to plan work time into days and as for the evenings, our nights are still too messy to have any energy, let alone brain power left by the time the sun sets.

Trying to get all my work done over the week-end takes the pressure off during the week. The pressure to be alert all the time and the pressure on Hugo to be convenient. Some days, he is and some days, he isn't. That's just the way it is and I can cope with that if I am not trying to write an article at the same time.

So as I worked solidly over the week-end, Chris was on his feet, taking Hugo on long walks, putting him to sleep, playing with him on the mat, changing and dressing him etc etc...

By the end of the week-end, Chris looked more exhausted than he did on Friday night, I had computer eyes and we hadn't spent much time together at all but in some ways, we were both happy. I enjoy my work and being able to do it, even if it isn't as straightforward as it once was and judging by the giggling, the cooing and kisses, Chris relishes these one-on-one times with his son too.

The only thing missing in all of this is a bit of 'us' time and we'll make it come back. It looks like we'll have to start going on 'date nights' which we can only hope would be less corny than it sounds... 

6 months! A turning point.

6 months family portrait... sans Daddy :(

Granny Love filling in for Daddy.

Well, here we go again. Another month of parenthood under our belts. This time feels a little special though. 6 months! Half a year. I can hardly believe it.

It might seem like an arbitrary landmark but Hugo's developments over the last few weeks definitely usher in the sense that the next 6 months will be very different to the last. If the first 6 months were an extension of pregnancy, his little body intrinsically linked to mine for his nourishment and mobility, then the next 6 will be all about developing his own physical independence. By the end of his first year, he will not be needing me in the same intense way he does now and as we celebrate half a year gone by, this is the transition we begin - with both sadness and joy.

Most of Hugo's 6th month was spent in the hot and dry end of the Texan summer. With Chris holding the fort in Newcastle, Hugo and I embarked on our first overseas trip together. The 15 hours in the air went reasonably smoothly with at least Hugo getting a fair bit of sleep. I didn't and landed feeling like a happy zombie.

Hugo enjoying the Qantas Lounge, literally.

Marc had arrived the previous day from his holiday in Nice to spend a week with us in TX, and with my Mum and Lolo on holidays as well, there were definitely plenty of hands on deck to look after Hugo while Mummy caught up on some precious zzz.

A full nest.

Marc, Hugo and his Marsupilami.

Interestingly, our easiest nights here happened when Hugo was still jet-lagged, thanks to a combination of exhaustion and co-sleeping - which I haven't felt comfortable doing before or especially since those first few days.

Paul arrived the next day to hang out with us for a few days. Crazily enough, I hadn't seen either of my brothers for 2 1/2 years but it felt that no time had passed, except for the small detail that I have a baby now.

We basically played in the pool by day, taking go-pro selfies and pushing Hugo around in his floating palace, and caught up on each other's adventures in the far corners of the world by night.

The floating palace.

In addition to his uncles, Hugo basked in the glory of his grandparents love and affection. Every morning, Laurent (sometimes joined by my mum) knocked on our door at the crack of dawn to take care of Hugo while I caught up on some elusive sleep. Safely buckled into his stroller, they went walking around the neighbourhood until mid-morning, when they came home and jumped into the pool for a refreshing dip in the hope of tiring him out before his next nap.

After a few days with Paul and a week with Marc, Paul went back to grizzly Seattle and Marc jetted off to sunny LA where he is hoping to find some work.

Luckily though, they didn't leave until we did this:

Marc's brilliant idea of re-creating an old time photo.

What followed my brother's departure is a blur of shopping, late afternoon swimming, agitated nights and long morning sleep-ins, lots of fun at the dinner table, a bit of TV watching in the evenings, a few attempts to do cultural things (although mostly limited to the museum's gift shops) and the heat!

A couple weeks into our stay, Hugo was the guest of honour at his first formal event. My mum's friend Paula hosted a "sip & see" as an opportunity for my mum's friends to meet us and for me to meet them. It was a lovely gesture and occasion, and a long awaited chance to put names to faces.

Trying to fit our activities amongst Hugo's naptimes was OK. It just meant that we had to move fast and efficiently. Once in a while, he was pushed a little past his limits but overall, Hugo maintained his calm and sunny demeanour through most of our expeditions. We also managed to satiate my burger cravings for one lunch by going to a place where the food and decor (pronounced Day-cor) were as gloriously American as it gets.

Hugo chose this time to start experimenting with his own mobility. Months of tummy time have paid off since one day Hugo managed to roll from his back to his stomach. The next day, he figured out the reverse and hasn't looked back since. He now swivels around on his tummy and pulls himself forward towards anything he might be able to chew on. His new abilities have also given him a chance to experiment with sleeping positions and now, he rarely sleeps on his back, opting for his side or tummy instead. I am not complaining because his naps have gotten longer and we have even started taking encouraging steps towards self-settling.

With only a few days left before heading off again, we are busy trying to do all the last little things we had said we would although somehow, we always seem to end up at Gap instead, filling imaginary suitcases we can only hope will be big enough. We marvel at how quickly Hugo has changed in the space of only 3 weeks and wonder if his proud Daddy will be as amazed with the changes as we are. And of course, we keep trying to soak it all in, making the most of every moment we still have, until next time. Everything always goes too fast and I mean that about the last 3 weeks as much as the last 6 months...

Implanon.

Tomorrow, I have an appointment to have a contraceptive implant inserted under the skin of my arm. For the ludicrous price of $36, I have 3 years of contraception guaranteed ahead of me. While it does what it needs to do, I can basically forget about it. Compared to taking a pill every day, this isn't bad.

Of course, the implant can be removed at any time, rendering me fertile again more or less instantly. While we are in no rush, the doctor did ask when we might want to try for another baby and I guess we had to answer something, as vague and abstract as it might seem right now.

Before actually having a baby, Chris and I were able to discuss this topic in fairly pragmatic terms. A close age gap would let me get back into a fuller career sooner while a bigger age difference might allow us to save a little money in between before starting all over again.

Enter Hugo and the general direction of our discussions is about as predictable as our little boy himself, ranging from "one is more than enough" to "let's move to the country and keep having babies".

I'll never forget the moment when, still in the birthing suite and as I came back to my senses, I could suddenly hear the groans and screams of other labouring women in adjacent rooms. Chris had heard them all along but I hadn't and in that moment, after a quick but intense labour, I thought to myself and out loud that I didn't think I could ever do it again. I sort of knew that I would but I just wasn't sure that I could.

The next most distinctive moment along this particular journey came when not one or two but three friends announced their pregnancies. While I was genuinely excited for them, a little voice inside me yelled: "Noooooo! what have you doooone???!!!!"

By that stage, Hugo was only a couple months old and as happy as I was, I was also more tired than I had ever been. I still found the whole experience deeply overwhelming and the prospect of the months and years ahead of us very daunting. It all seemed like a very very long tunnel which one should only enter when they are absolutely sure of themselves. But of course, can anyone ever be?

And then, somehow things have started to change. My friends' bumps are growing and I find myself feeling sentimental, if not nostalgic of the blessed feeling one gets from carrying and growing a life inside, the constant and private companionship, those first flutters which will soon enough become strong and visible kicks underneath the surface of a perfectly distended belly.

As this nostalgia for pregnancy takes me by surprise from time to time, I am also becoming increasingly aware of how fleeting all of this is. Hugo is five months old now and while I delight in the fact that he does something new every day, I also feel a little pinch in my heart for all the things he has already put in the past. For every thing he does for the very first time, there is something he does for the very last time. How is it even possible to think there was a time when he was even younger than he is now?

And so, as the fog of these early months seems to lift and I can already start to feel a yearning for the very beginning, Chris and I are back to discussing options in pragmatic terms. It is still abstract and distant but the raised little rod under my skin shall be a tangible reminder of decisions to come. 

On going back to work - the first of many.

This is the first post where I really mention the topic of going back to work but I am sure it won't be the last. I have so many thoughts on this subject, I don't even know where to start so I'll start with this...

How do you 'go' back to work when you have no where to actually go?

Before having Hugo, I would 'get' to work by inventing a morning routine and a commute which involved getting up, showered and dressed with Chris and, when Chris left for work on his bike, I would walk down to Darby Street, get a coffee and then walk back home to start my day of work. The challenge was to go straight to my desk rather than to the pile of laundry staring at me.

These days, I have a lot more than a pile of laundry staring back... I have a very little, very cute and very demanding little person who can keep himself happily entertained for about 2 minutes at a time. If studiously sitting behind my desk used to be a challenge of discipline, it has now become a distant fantasy. You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, right?

Over the last few weeks, my two main freelance jobs from last year have recontacted me to start doing some work again and while this is exciting, it is also very daunting. If I can barely find the time to cut my nails, when will I fit 6, 10 or 15 hours of work a week?

The problem isn't really the time itself but rather the totally unpredictable nature of Hugo's schedule. Hugo doesn't really have a routine yet although maybe we are getting closer to one but never knowing when or how long Hugo might be asleep for makes it very challenging to plan work in the middle of it all. It also puts a lot more pressure on Hugo to be 'convenient' and fall asleep when I need him to. This is both unrealistic and stressful for both of us.

At the moment, my best time is over the week-ends especially since Chris' hours got cut back. Now, I just need my clients to realise that I am not on call, all day, everyday... In many ways, this is the most challenging part and setting boundaries has become crucial.

Overall though, I am completely aware of the fact that this is the situation I chose when I decided to start freelancing rather than having a steady full-time job. Therefore, I am resisting the urge to envy those who can leave the house and 'go' to work. Instead, I just need to seize the moments when I can 'get' to work and enjoy the blessing of being able to spend as much time as I want looking after my little boy.