Playgroup
We have two playgroups in our week. One is a Christian outfit in a shopfront church, run by the minister’s wife: 20 kids on a quiet day, maybe 30 at the end of a week of rain. A plethora of plastic, in every possible colour and incarnation, spews across the floor: plastic sausages and grapes sizzle in a pot on the plastic stove, plastic dolls, victims of several generations of haircuts and scarification rituals, are walked in plastic strollers, toddlers teeter at the top of the plastic slide and have tea parties in the plastic cubbies.…
Angry
I start to notice anger. Hers and mine. I assume it’s just her age; her iron will; her desire to express her newfound power, or simply to thwart mine. But I seem to be getting more angry at my two-year-old, more frequently, since I weaned her.…
A Sob Story for All Ages
First published in Sydney Morning Herald, August 9, 2008
When Amber Jones* was a year old she was left to sleep in her own vomit by her parents as part of a popular baby sleep-training regimen known as controlled crying.
Chooks
We picked up our first four chooks at the Mullum Co-op last week. Eleven-week old Rhode Island Reds. ‘Good with kids,’ said the breeder as he helped Obi pick them out. After a short appraisal she gave each proffered bird the thumbs up or down, based on some innate chicken-selecting criteria.…
Weaning war and peace
Obi woke early and instead of the usual morning gambol in bed, her prising open my lids and saying ‘mama awake!’ with great surprise, she headed out to the loungeroom and started a long, quiet conversation with her toys. Still half asleep and glad of the respite, I drifted for a few blissful moments, head under the doona, the next thing I knew she was whimpering.…
Work
I’ve started work. I have a desk in a chaotic collective studio that is mine, two days a week. Obi is 22 months old and has never been apart from me for a full day. She is breastfed to sleep and has been babysitted exactly twice, for a few hours, by a grandparent.…
Sleep?
9.45pm. Bed. Mmmm. Early night. Drift off to ominous sound of baby grinding teeth.
11.10pm. Wake up to husband aerating doona; warming cold hands on belly. Swear.
1.17am. Wake up to baby slamming her head into mine. Pushing cold feet into my belly (note for tomorrow: socks to bed) and dragging her toenails down my thighs (note for tomorrow: cut nails).…
Birth Pangs
First published in Good Weekend, November 8, 2003
One in four Australian babies is now born via the scalpel and, if the trend continues, natural birth may become obsolete. Kate Hamilton reports on why we’ve lost our faith in nature and what it’s costing women.