Your Delicious Life

I distinctly remember the day I broke out the brand new playdough for a bit of fun with my daughter. We ripped open the packaging in anticipation. After five minutes of playing she decided – as a lover of rainbows – to mix all the colours together. What!#? This was not OK. I had one of those in-the-moment realisations, a rude awakening - Playdough colours were meant to REMAIN SEPARATE!

My discomfort in watching her form a huge off-pink blob told me a lot about myself and some of my greatest challenges in the journey ahead. If playdough can mess with my state of mind, what chance have I got?

Since the playdough trauma, I’ve had sort of ‘flashbacks’ about my creative ventures as a child, my wild and free self-expressive nature and...(now, if my mother and siblings are reading this they’re probably thinking ‘huh?’, ‘what the... is she crapping on about?’)

The fact is, I was exceedingly proud of my ability to colour in the lines, leaned more towards sharp, precise colouring pencils than messy paints and – later in high school – was far more concerned with getting the perspective right in my art class assignments than creating art.

The fact that my paternal grandfather, aunt and uncle were all painters/ artists could have worked for me. Instead, I fell into that ridiculous ‘I’m just not a creative type’ story. You know, the ‘I don’t have a creative bone in my body’ garbage.

Accidental Artist

Since the playdough trauma, I’ve vowed to embrace and encourage my daughter’s creative gifts and her ability to take me away to another world within a few minutes. Of course, I’m not always in the mood and sometimes reject her magic world invitations in preference for my grounded, ‘mum’s too busy doing’ world.

This year she started pre-school four days and for the last 6 months we’ve been spending one day a week – Wednesdays – at home together. She usually stays in her pyjamas. We avoid jumping in the car to go anywhere. My only self-imposed rule is to not be even the slightest bit productive for the day. (We call it ‘Wild Wednesday’).

As I spend the rest of the week dragging her into my time schedule, this is the one day when I let her lead the way. We share ideas about what we can create and do together and – most of the time – we do whatever she decides she wants to do.

Sometimes I struggle with the in-the-moment thing and not working (paid and non-paid) when there’s so much to do. But I’ve come to the conclusion we (especially me) place far too much importance on productivity over creativity, doing over being in our lives and with our kids.

One Wild Wednesday, while sitting outside with Lil and Julia (the bunny), and my charcoal pad, I had an incredible accident. We’d had a completely relaxing morning and I had immersed myself in the bliss of the moment and beauty of the bush surrounds.

I picked up my charcoal and pad. The charcoal wasn’t that thin, fine stuff you get in the art shop, it was big and chunky and unpredictable and I’d picked it up as leftovers from a beach fire last summer.

I drew some thick chunky feminine curves on the pad. Then a few more. Then, realizing it looked like a woman’s head, I drew in some rough eyes and mouth. It wasn’t perfect, and that made it so. It was a completely spontaneous a freeing experience. I had created something out of nothing but my own presence. It wasn’t perfect and that was perfect! I was an accidental artist.

Creative Space, Creative Muscle

A month or so before the charcoal incident I had started writing my first ever book. Although I’d kept personal journals most of my life, spent some time working in a newspaper and wrote professionally (corporate stuff), this was my first time I’d ever been truly driven to write.

Even while sick, I’d drag my body  to the computer to finish a chapter, or pull over in the car to jot down an idea.

I can’t tell you what got me into that creative zone but I can tell you I now spend more time in that zone that out of it. Working my creative muscle at the computer definitely set the tone for the charcoal experience. In fact, the creative freedom of my writing seems to spill over into all parts of my life; I cook more creatively, I play more with my daughter and solutions and ideas flow more freely. I’m convinced it doesn’t really matter how you create, but that you make some time to create.

Spontaneous Combustion

The other thing about sex...hang on a minute how did that happen? When I learnt, while studying energy therapies, that the sacral chakra in the body is meant to house both the sexual and the creative parts of our subtle selves I wasn’t at all surprised.

And as a mum back here on the physical plane, I feel the same. The spontaneity and openness that’s demanded in order to combust in the bedroom feels a lot like the demands of the craft table.

Whenever my daughter invites me to play with her, to imagine, or create, my mind fills with all the reasons why I don’t have the time. My left-brain kicks in and works through the list of ‘all the things I should be doing.’

When my partner invites me to bed, I go through that same mental checklist. Only he usually gets one of those ‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ looks. ‘Do you have any idea how much I have to do right now, tomorrow, next week?’

What lies before me, apart from my ready and willing partner, is the option of rejecting his offer and throwing heated verbal abuse at him or saying ‘yeah sure’ to some steamy sex.

The Great Imbalance

Leading a busy life might seem part of modern motherhood. The problem with a full schedule is that, when something unpredictable drops in front of you (like life does), it’s either: (a) high stress, get that thing out of my way, I don’t have time for this; or (b) sure, throw me another ball and I’ll drop that one too.

As for ‘invitations’ – for sex, for play, for coffee, for visitor drop-ins (never seem to happen anymore) – they’re usually flatly denied or squeezed in between appointments and obligations.

Apart from being super busy, most mums over-work their left brain to the point where it seems impossiblt to stop. (The left brain is responsible for all the planning and doing in the world). The problem with that is that the right side of the brain  (where our intuition, reflection and creativity reside), becomes weaker, dominated by the left. So basically, the more we DO, the harder it becomes to BE (present, spontaneous, calm).

So, when we talk of finding 'balance' in our lives - work/life, work/family, etc - we should not forget the biggest imbalance of all, the one happening right inside our own heads! It's almost like having a wheel balance and alignment on your car. The longer you go without fixing it, the harder it is to drive (live).

5 SIMPLE STEPS TO RE-BALANCING MUMMY MIND

1. Breath balance - Try this simple exercise. Sit comfortably with your spine straight. Push one of your nostrils closed with your thumb. Take 5 gentle, full breaths, then change to close the other nostril and repeat. Do this until you feel calm and balanced. (This works because it alternates the oxygen going to the left and right sides of the brain).

2. Moving meditation - Find a form of moving meditation you can do for at least 10 minutes a day to calm and balance your mind and body. (Try yoga, Qi Gong or Tai Chi either as a class, or get yourself a simple DVD).

3. Get it out of your head - Avoid carrying around your life (and your family's life) in your head. Use a diary, a calendar, a to-do list - whatever it takes to free up your mental load and create some space for actually living.

4. Creative space - Build time into your day/week/life for fun, pleasure and creativity. Even if it's committing to something small, DO IT NOW. When you find yourself with some spare time you didn't expect to have, try filling it with something that you love, rather than something productive.

5. Stop juggling - Whenever you feel you have too many 'balls in the air' and you're filled with the 'so much to do' dread, take time for a cup of tea or a 10 minute break and make reflect on what you could let go of just for now

by Lyndal Edwards

I was recently watching a documentary about carers and their lack of support services and respite. As I watched these mother’s tirelessly devoting themselves 24/7 to their severely disabled children, I was almost breathless with their struggle for time for themselves.

One woman reported of cleaning up after her 18 year old son who had thrown up 18 times in one day. She spoke of the physical toll days like this took, as cleaning, shifting and changing her son (and his bed), drained all her strength. And that’s just the physical toll.

What struck me most with all these women was their obvious sense of responsibility. And I felt a great connection and almost relief in hearing these women declare it was all too much for them, that no-one, not even a mother, should have to endure this kind of physical, mental and emotional toll, alone.

Who else but a mother would take on such an enormous responsibility? I’m in complete awe of any woman who takes on the seemingly impossible. But I’m in even greater awe of the woman who isn’t afraid to admit when she’d had enough, when she needs a break or a change.

I recently heard a local mother say her life was complete madness at the moment and that she felt like a prisoner trapped inside her life. I know she doesn’t always feel that way, but in that moment, on that day, that was her reality.

As mothers, it’s easy to carry the flag of martyrdom, insisting ‘I should just get on with it! There are plenty of women in the world doing it tougher than me.’ In my own case, as a mother of one, I’ve never felt I had a right to talk about how bloody hard motherhood can be, particularly raising one healthy, normal, good natured child (with a supportive partner).

But the fact is, my needs are my needs, my body is my body and when my mind or body or both, need to rest or retreat, I need to listen. If  I don’t, one of two things happen: I get sick or rundown, OR I become a fire-breathing, bitchy, un-lovin’ mum. 

One of the freakiest movies I ever saw as a kid was ‘American werewolf in London’. You don’t need to see the film to imagine the terror in watching your mate transform into a werewolf in front of your eyes. It’s no less ugly in my house...

For the sake of my own sanity, and the love of my own family, retreat has become an integral part of my life. I find the more I mature into motherhood, the more easily I pick up the signs of a need to retreat, and the simpler and less dramatic the outcome.

Crappy Mothers Day

If you’re lucky enough to experience a Hallmark quality Mother’s Day, then good for you! My most recent Mother’s Day was a crappy one. I sat around a table coughing and spluttering with my three sick sisters waiting for our healthy mother to arrive. Late, as usual, we gave her gifts, our hugs and a little of our company, before crawling into our respective beds for some much needed rest.

I loved my new (self-chosen) black handbag, complete with self-bought card and paper. (I shouldn’t complain, as the partner was way too sick to shop!).

At least we didn’t have a massive argument as we’d had the previous year (the night before Mother’s Day). I threatened that any soppy Mother’s Day card he presented the next morning would be rejected. (All was forgiven by late afternoon M Day).

I think Mother’s Day, like any other day, is whatever YOU choose to make it. I’ve got into the habit of deliberately doing something special for myself for Mother’s Day. Last year it was a dance workshop on Mother’s Day afternoon. This year it was THE handbag, plus a weekend away (meditation retreat).

Despite the press Mother’s Day receives, I think most mum’s wouldn’t mind what they did on Mother’s Day, provided they didn’t have to DO ANYTHING AT ALL. (The fact we all have mothers rules that out!)

Does the fact Mother’s Day even exists gives unspoken permission to ignore mum for the other 364 days of the year. If so, the only solution is to act like it’s Mother’s Day every weekend, or every day of the year! (Atleast the flowers will be cheaper!).

(Next Mother’s Day, make something AMAZING happen for yourself, even if it doesn’t fall exactly on the Hallmark day!)

The Sleep In...

If you’ve mastered the guilt-free sleep-in at this stage of your life and relationship, you’re one step of most mothers. And you’re probably also aware that the sleep-in comes at quite a price – sleeping in means you surrender control! It’s unlikely that, when you wake, you’ll find your kids are eating, watching or wearing anything you’ll agree with. Just let it go! (or risk losing the sleep in).

For those of you yet to master the sleep-in, be assured a true, guilt-free, interruption free sleep in requires great skill, timing and practice. Expect a few dry runs, numerous interruptions with seemingly urgent news alerts re. boogers, movie preferences, toilet requirements, etc.

When I asked my mums workshop group how they’re woken in the morning, one mum insisted she’s woken each morning by the poo alarm: ‘Mum, I’ve done a poo!’ screamed into her ear. Lovely! As an ear-plug wearer myself, my daughter has given up screaming out and tots up the stairs to shake me, before informing we of her: (a) intent to poo; (b) desire to play. So mine’s more of a ‘poo or play shake’ alarm. Once upon a time in the warmth of summer, I did manage to rise before Lil and, almost in a dream-like state, experience blissful child-free morning minutes. (These days, nothing seems to matter more than those few extra minutes in the horizontal).

Whatever your current AM reality, you’re more than likely lusting after a good, hot cup of tea and lie in, just like in the good old days BC (before children). I have no tips for you, except to say, if you need it, DO WHATEVER IT TAKES to make it happen! And remember to emerge looking and feeling refreshed from your bonus slumber, promising a day of positive mummy mood (ensuring family’s interest in repeating the favour).

Seriously, whenever I manage a sleep-in, I personally thank any and all persons responsible for making the experience possible. Simply because I truly AM GRATEFUL, as is my body.

And if it’s simply not possible, there’s always the afternoon nap (again could requite some cunning planning, perhaps even deception!)

Book It In

If you’re waiting around for someone else to notice how much you need a break, a holiday or some time off, then you could be waiting a long time. Sure your girlfriends will listen to your gripes, but they can’t necessarily carry the load for you, especially if they’re carrying a load of live family themselves.

And, even if you’re lucky enough t have someone in your life who’s constantly commending you on what an incredible, fantastic, self-less job you are doing as a mother, simply agree, than take the opportunity to go something FOR YOURSELF in return or all your selfless hard work.

The most effective way to score yourself some blissful retreat time is to BOOK IT IN! Make it happen. Put it on the calendar or diary, perform whatever magic you need to put everything in place then GO FOR IT!

It doesn’t matter whether it’s a hot bath, facial, day spa trip, a movie, a night out with the girls or a weekend away on your own! Promising you’ll take some time out soon, when the kids start school, leave school or whatever, might just leave you in the land of the deeply resentful (believe me, nice place to visit but you don’t want to live there).

The secret is (I love secrets): whatever you do for yourself, do it with your WHOLE SELF. Don’t leave your mind at home housecleaning if you’re on the massage table. Don’t leave the door to the bathroom open, just in case your family needs you while you soak. Whether you’re meditating, masturbating or vegetating, leaving your WHOLE LIFE behind when and if you can might work wonders.

Even the most brief encounters with yourself can help restore your sanity!

The Journey Inward

I know that my desire for time and space alone stems largely from my upbringing (large family, small house). What I’ve come to learn over the years is that time to myself is not only a necessary part of my own sense of balance, but a natural human desire.

What frightened me more than anything in becoming a mother was saying goodbye to ‘me time’. For as long as I could remember, I’ve loved walking at the beginning or end of the day, journaling, reading and reflecting. For me, self-space and time has been a necessary part of my personal evolution.

Only when I’m alone can I find my own answers to the many questions life seems to bring. Why should that desire, that longing, end with motherhood? I’ve always been as much of a recluse as I have a socialite! Too much giving to others has always created a feeling of imbalance in me. And, after a stint of time to myself, I’m far more able to provide my family and friends with the attention they ask (and deserve) of me.

Once upon a time in my twenties, I didn’t know how to say ‘no’, or that there was any benefit in saying it. I was ‘burning the candle at both ends’, as my parents would say, and almost lost my self and my health in the madness of all the ‘yes’s I was promising everyone around me.

I only saw the value in productivity, in getting on with things. And my ego enjoyed the stroke of every friend or colleague who enquired in awe as to how I managed to ‘do it all!’

Today I understand the value of non-work, of just ‘being there’ for someone you love, instead of trying to ‘fix’ it all with actions or solutions. As a mother, it’s frightfully easy to convince yourself that your true value lies in what you’re capable of doing. Sometimes, the most valuable thing you can do is absolutely nothing!

Balancing your action-filled life with non-action, your productive, doing nature with your reflective nature, isn’t always easy. Yet, some of a woman’s greatest power lies in her ability to sit back, to retreat when she knows, intuitively, the time is right!

Sometimes, when I feel myself getting caught up in the mad pace of life, and every part of my being is racing to keep up, I retreat! I can tell by my mood, my tone, the stiffness in my body, that I’m overdoing it. All the little things my child does I once found cute or idiosyncratic, are now annoying time-wasters. And life’s so deafeningly loud, that I just can’t hear my own inner voice any more let alone what anyone else is trying to say to me.

I dread running in to someone down the street, or the mobile ringing, for fear someone might hold me up.

It’s time to retreat!

I’m writing this chapter at 5.30am. Not because of my devotion to early morning writing rituals, but because of the effects the drug my doctor prescribed has had on me wide awake since 3.30am. So, here I am, writing about sickness and health.

I recently heard about the notion of ‘marrying yourself’ as a way of being able to better love, understand and forgive yourself. After all, you are stuck with YOU longer than any other relationship in your life. And, there’s no divorcing yourself!

The vow ‘in sickness and in health’ seems most appropriate (and probably most challenging) for me, as a mother. From the moment your fragile bub arrives to take their first breath, the health/ sickness focus is on your child.

Where labour has been complicated, there may be some focus on mum and her recovery. Generally, though – even if your child doesn’t end up in intensive care, you seem to watch and listen to every breath, cough and squeak for signs of health (or otherwise).

Worried Sick

When mothers talk of their plans to ‘return to paid work’ (after the quick, simple and uncomplicated birth of their first child), no-one seems to point out the fact that – statistically – their child will probably fall sick around 15 times in their first 2 years. They tell me it’s about ‘building an immune system’. (Not sure how many organisations build in these extra sick days for mothers?)

They don’t tell you, either, that, should you visit the hospital in the middle of the night with sick child that, unless your child is on their death bed, you should take a supply of snacks (for yourself) and appropriate layers of clothing and blankets. You could even take your own pillow and some sunnies, for both you and the kid (the fluoro lights are enough to drive your child to vomit).

Also, chances are you may be asked to fetch a urine sample from your sick, moody, possibly listless child. You will be handed a cup and told the sample must be ‘clean’ (wee must come straight from the source, not rolling off the left foot). Sitting with a nappy off, hoping for a warning sign, watching (in the fluoro lights) all exit posts – wee, diahoreah, vomit.

Been there done that tip: If you have a girl, take your own small funnel, OR ask for a girls’ pee bag (some hospitals seem to have small supply of these hidden under the counter). Pay for them if you have to! Oh, and wear your least expensive clothes.

Elastic Band of Love

I remember, at around 2am one morning, screaming at my sick daughter, ‘Take your God damn medicine!’ Fear, tears and cuddles soon followed, and shitloads of guilt, of course. The fact was, although she wasn’t old enough to tell me what was going on in her body, she was old enough to dictate what I could put into her body and when. And, when your child strikes a fever in the middle of the night, how do you make them understand it’s not the time to reject the one and only strawberry flavoured fever medication you have in the medicine cabinet. Of course, all she really wanted was more cool facecloths, cuddles and love.

What I always found hardest in those early years, wasn’t necessarily late nights, I found myself at my most loving and patient most of the time. It was the fact that – in the back of my mind – was the reality that, come 9am, I had to be sitting in a meeting, atleast one eye open, mind at the ready.

Countless times, Lily would emerge after a night of fever, sweats and vomiting with a HUGE smile on her face, ready for a new day at home, with dad. She seemed to have no memory of the night’s terror. Unlike her mum, who wore that tale like a badge of courage, ready to be told and retold to poor bastard with a spare few minutes.

And although my decision to return to work as early and as fully as I did was a rationally financial one, I deeply resented the absolute sheer exhaustion and frustration that came with it. In reality, I just wanted to BE a mother whenever I was needed, not between 6pm and 7am. And I wanted to enjoy daytime naps and playtimes with my girl.

Self-Centred Sickness

Picture this: I’m at the hospital (third or fourth time in the last year) with bub. This time, I’m prepared. Not only have I made life easier for myself with my super-dooper mini funnel (just in case), a bag full of comforting foods, kids books and clothes. I’ve also planned, on the way to the hospital, to completely ride off tomorrow.

I know calling in sick will not only allow me to be there for her in case she needs me in the morning, but it will allow ME the space to sleep (if she does) through tomorrow. Heading into the unknown of a late night hospital visit knowing you’ve taken pressure off yourself for the next day feels completely different.

Of course, it may not always be possible to manage some time off when you need it. (Sick children must cause most families as much reorganization stress as school holidays!)

It is possible, however, to adopt a self-centred approach to illness (both yours and your children’s). The most important thing to remember here is that, as the centre of your family, your health is perhaps the most important in the house. If you’re a single mother, this is even more so the case.  

Yet, I’d be the first to admit that, especially in the early years, I’d spend far more time getting fresh, healthy food in to my child’s body than my own. And, should she fall sick, there’d be blankies, water, juices, vitamins and love and attention by the bagful.

My partner would do the same, yet we’d hardly raise an eyebrow at each other’s chesty coughs. There was a time when I’d ‘soldier on’ through my sickness to meet any responsibilities that lay in front of me.

Now, if it’s just all too hard, I lay down. Only the ABSOLUTELY necessary gets done. (Sure, your child will have to fed and taken to school if they’re well). I’ve found that conceding defeat and getting horizontal means I getting well incredibly quickly (usually within a day or two).

Whatever my body needs at that time – sleep, healthy, simple food, natural medicines, my favourite tea, a whinge session – I give it to myself. I don’t leave my family without food and water (or food and water instructions), I just greatly reduce my own expectations about what I can do, including housework, paid work, even mental work

Each time a mum-friend of mine comes to me with their sick child or sick self story, I immediately feel for them. My belief is that, even when your child is sick and you are healthy, part of the focus should be on working out how YOU can get through the job ahead. Whether this means, reducing your load or self-expectations, or just simply being flexible and prepared for anything, giving yourself the room and permission to give what you need to will probably save your sanity.

Self-Centred Health

There are countless books, articles, papers and websites devoted to children’s health. This hugely outweighs information focusing on the physical, emotional and spiritual health of mums. Although post natal depression is a thoroughly researched topic, once we’re out of the ‘danger zone’, I feel like we’re pretty much left alone to fend for ourselves.

Having a self-centred approach to your family’s health makes complete sense to me. Apart from the fact that, as a healthy mum, you have loads more energy to give to live your life, you also bring knowledge and awareness into your home.

Mums are almost always the information gatherers in the house, looking for ways to improve things, resolve problems, rearrange stuff. This works well in relation to health as well. If you’ve tried something new, like improving the quality of the food you eat and/ or exercise, you’re getting first hand experience at enjoying better health.

There’s no reason why this approach can’t extend to your own mental and spiritual health as well. Giving yourself time for some yoga, meditation, reading or journaling, even a long hot bath, can make all the difference in the world for you.

One habit I’ve maintained since Lily’s birth is always telling her where I’m going and what I’m doing. This stemmed from my early return to work. Leaving every morning was hell, but I still felt saying goodbye properly, rather than sneaking off, might help her feel more secure that I would return in the afternoon. I also told her I was going to work and would see her again later that day. She couldn’t speak yet, yet I felt right in doing it. Her blood-curdling screams, arms outstretched, would cease within 30-60 seconds of me leaving the apartment (I’d wait in the corridor just long enough to ease my straining heart!).

Later, as she grew and I began to discover ‘me time’, I would tell her whenever mum was going for a walk, or a workout. I was even, later on, able to meditate in my own home while she was awake (provided my partner was well briefed and she was well bribed). She understood Mum needed time alone. They both quickly saw the benefits of a blissful (as opposed to bitchy) mummy and meditation or walk requests were usually easily agreed to.

In a few weeks I’m heading off on my third weekend meditation retreat since her birth. Letting her know what I’m doing and why I’m doing it has made it fairly stress-free to retreat into my own space when I need to. Of course, things don’t always go to plan. But, I find the more I do for my own health (physical, mental and spiritual), the less affected I am when something doesn’t work out as I’d planned.

Have you ever seen a woman in her car (usually a small 4WD like a Suzuki Vitara), with a yoga mat in the back, speeding her way to her next class. Cut her off and you’ll get a honk and a ‘get the hell out of my way’ glare. Never made any sense to me, stressing because you’re running late for your relaxation class.

Though I must admit, in the early days when I was desperate for my own space, yelling at my partner for interrupting my meditation session with: ‘get out! can’t you see I’m f***ing meditating! I soon realise that – like my Vitara soul sister – I would need to extent my zen-ness beyong the 30 minutes a day I took for myself. I mean what’s the use. It’s like doing yoga on Saturday mornings and lines of coccaine Saturday nights (have known such girls).

Like Lyndal's Book Excerpt This Month? Feel free to share it with a friend.

 

"Time – Mum’s Friend or Foe?"

by Lyndal Edwards(c) June 2008

It begins with conception - no, even before conception – a mother’s obsession with TIME. From menstrual and ovulation cycles, from conception to gestation, our minds are fixated with time. During pregnancy, the questions comes thick and fast: how many weeks to go? How long will you be at home before you return to work (in some cases)?

When I first attended pre-natal classes and learnt of the ‘three stages of labour’ (according to the movies, there’s only 1), I panicked at the thought of failing the labour test. What if, during the course of labour, I forgot where I was? In cross-checking my birth plan with the theory of the three stages, I was perplexed to find the midwives at the birth centre chuckling at my need for control.

How had all those poor women over millions of years managed to give birth in caves and fields without this knowledge and these yardsticks of time? (Mental picture of male marking woman’s birthing groans in the dirt with a stick.)

In hindsight, my birth plan need have only read ‘I plan to have a baby’, which wasn’t really my plan after all, but my daughter’s. It was all in her hands really!

Being a birth centre, the approach was ‘hands off’. I had more time and space than any normal modern mum would be comfortable with. At one stage I wondered whether all the midwives hadn’t shut up shop. Where was all the attention? And why was my partner reclining on the bed reading a novel while I groaned and bled and breathed? Why was everyone so ****ing relaxed?

Apparently my body was doing what it was programmed to do and chugging along just the right pace, thank you very much! But what stage was I at? How many centimeters was I dilated? How long had I been out here naked and weary? More importantly, when was this bloody thing due to come out?

What turned out to be a dreamy, water birth delivery and a relatively cruisey labour (acknowledgement of friends’ horror birth stories), was due largely to the fact it happened in an environment largely devoid of time. There was no clock in the room, no impatient doctor running late for a golfing appointment, no hourly dilation measurements.

As a result, I lacked the usual birthing details and couldn’t answer my friend’s questions: How long before you took the gas? How long did you push? I could only tell them what time my waters broke and what time she was born: 7:10am.

I didn’t realise ‘till later that my timeless birthing experience had actually been a blessing!

Cut to: 6 weeks later .... dropping into the local centre for a baby weigh in and check-up. I sat in the waiting room with 3 other mums, all of us in our trackpants, nipples leaking, eyes bulging. In walks Supermum! (supermum, supersuit, superintimidating). Who proceeded to brag to us all about her ability to time bub’s feeds and sleeps to enable her to work (already!). Even her baby looked organized and I wondered for a moment whether she’d taught him to dress himself yet?

The obsession with time (and control of it), peaks immediately after returning from hospital. The obsession with feed and sleep times conflicts with the school of thought that encourages you to ‘listen to your baby’ and ‘tune in to their needs’. Most of us opt for the time management approach. Yet those little bleaters just aren’t on the same wavelength.

They sleep when they’re supposed to be awake, open their eyes (and lungs) at sleep time, and just don’t seem to UNDERSTAND THE SCHEDULE! As a new mum, your whole life, appointments, visitors, naps, shopping, all revolves around your baby’s sleep, feed and nappy change times. And, if like most new mums, you’re taking 90 minutes or more to feed, burp and change, then you’re probably managing little more than a quick pee and one phone call before you’re on duty again.

From the moment our kids move off the breast, we’re desperately searching for windows of time to reclaim the small pieces normal life. Moving from breast to bottle milk seems to be one of the greatest struggles of motherhood. The desire to remain close to our bubs is soon over-ridden by the newfound freedom a bottle feed can bring (especially when performed by another party!).

In some cases, childcare can ‘steal’ you large chunks of time to return to work. Even then, your newfound control of time is yet another illusion. A sick child knows nothing about mummy’s business meetings or long shifts.

Our obsession with time doesn’t cease once our children can walk and talk. The tantrum throwing toddler is like a walking time bomb, that can only be defused with TIMELY food and sleep. Any mother who’s ever shopped for groceries with a tired, hungry child, knows the dangers. And doing it while you’re hungry and tired too...we’ll that’s just asking for trouble!

The beauty of kids is that they have NO linear concept of time. Just getting a child to eat breakfast or strapping them into a car seat will tell you that! At the age of about 4 my daughter went through a stage where, before hopping into the car, she has to do a few laps of the back yard and driveway. Then, once strapped in, she always insisted she’d forgotten her most important toy and begged me to retrieve it from the house. Leaving the house could take anywhere between 2 and 15 minutes. I soon realized that it simply wasn’t worth stressing over it and started to herd her into the car long before my own deadline.

The wonder of an infant is incredible. Look mum, a butterfly! Look mum, a cloud, moving fast! Look mum, a truck! Look mum, two yellow flowers! All the while, mum, in her own linear time zone, claiming ‘Yes, yes, how exciting!’ as she nudges (or drags) him into her time line.

The Language Of Time

How many times have you heard yourself saying: ‘We’ll be late!’, ‘get a move on’, in a tone that suggests the earth will explode should deadlines not be met. The language we use when talking about time say a lot about our relationship to it and the stranglehold it may have on our lives.

‘I just don’t have enough time!’ ‘There won’t be any time left for that.’ ‘There just isn’t enough time in the day!’ Where did the week go?’ (or month, or year(s)).

As a mother, the way we think and talk about time can create or reduce stress immediately for both ourselves and our family. Getting out the door is often stressful, despite the fact it’s something we do almost every day of our lives. Why is that? And why does time continue to have such a stranglehold long after our kids can tell the time. Why do we take on the burden of chief time-watcher (along with our other myriad of roles and responsibilities?)

Time Rich or Time Poor

In each and every day of our lives, we have the same amount of time. Time is always with us, from birth to death. So, why so we insist on having such a negative relationship with it? And how is it that, given we all have the same time, some people seem relaxed while others stress?

Do you really believe you have more to do that anyone else on the planet? Any other mum? One day mums will stop commending each other for their ability to do it all with statements like: ‘I just don’t know how you manage it’ or ‘where do you find the time?’

And start asking questions like: ‘Do you really have to do all that?’ ‘Is there an easier way?’. How we use the time we have each day is OUR CHOICE. Realising this is an important first step in changing our relationship with time. Moving from being ‘time poor’ to ‘time rich’ is more about consciousness that ‘managing’ time. The richness of your experience of time will depend entirely on how you VIEW it, as much as how you use it.

On those days when you have your day planned out and something unexpected happens, and your to-do-list is left in the dust, how do you handle it? Do you feel time slipping away, or change course and reassess your day? When a friend rings in distressed or drops in unannounced, does your neck tighten with the stress of losing precious time for your own life? And when your child vomits or throws a tantrum just when you’re heading out the door, does your race against time throw you into a nervous rage? Whatever your relationship to time at this time in your life, it’s never too late to change it for the better.

In Perfect Time

A wise and amazingly calm woman I had the pleasure of meeting told me that her simple mantra was: ‘I am in perfect time!’ Despite the fact she was a mother (and once a frantic one, she’s happy to admit), she managed to say this simple mantra each time she felt herself stressing about running late. You know that familiar feeling: neck tightening, gut headache surfacing, body heating up, gut twisting...

Well, that’s her solution and, although it may not suit everyone and every situation, it’s not a bad one to adopt. It might also come in useful if you ever find yourself in a situation where someone is screaming at you for being late! ‘But, I’m in perfect time!’

The fact is, the fear of lateness is usually something we drum into our kids. And before we know it, they’re used to timetables and deadlines and are equally as stressed, perhaps more so.

I often find that if I’m running late in the morning, the whole day seems to fall behind. And there’s nothing enjoyable about constantly running through the day, chasing your tail. I’ve become quite skilled (so proud), at coping much better with those days by dropping something off my list or finding some way to let go of something for another day or time (or altogether). It’s amazing how many things you realise aren’t actually that urgent when it comes down to making those choices...

If you'd like to comment on Lyndal's Upcoming book we'd love you to email us.

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"Self-Centred Mothering?"

by Lyndal Edwards(c) May 2008

I’ll never forget the morning I awoke to find my partner holding onto one of my breasts and my daughter the other. It was the perfect metaphor for my life, everyone wanted a piece of me. My life, my mind and my body no longer felt like my own. Welcome to motherhood!

Sometimes This Job Sucks!

I’m not gonna tell you motherhood is the hardest job in the world. You already know that. And you’re probably sick of hearing it. I’m not going to tell you how important, underappreciated and underpaid the job is. You already know that too.

And I don’t need to tell you it’s the only job with no holidays, no sick leave, no job description, no performance reviews and few health benefits. Like all jobs it has its good, bad and ugly days.

You can’t get the sack, even when you’re doing a lousy job (you’ll probably treat yourself harder than the toughest boss).

The fact that you are the CEO, Financial advisor, social secretary, logistics officer, top, middle and lower manager of your family is both the good and the bad news.

The good news is you CAN have holidays (you just need a masters in logistics and manipulation to create one you’ll really enjoy). You can write your own job description and give YOURSELF time off (again, may call for manipulation and logistical mastery).

I can hear the yells now from the back of the room...’But I love motherhood, and it’s worth all the work!’

In my experience, they’re the kinds of words you’re most likely to hear from the mouths of fresh, new mums (in love with their bubs), or more experienced mums who, in retrospect, wished they’d slowed down and spent more time with their kids.

That’s quite OK! In fact, to be honest, I LOVE being a mum. NOW! But, it’s taken me a lot of struggle, guilt and hard work to come to the realization that I am a bloody great mother WHEN I’M SELF-CENTRED!

Throwing Off The Guilt Monkey

Seven weeks into motherhood I was back at work. Seven months into motherhood, I was working full-time and coming home to a tired stay-at-home dad, a needy bub and a 15 year old step son (a recent addition to our home).
 
Surrendering control of domestic life, losing my breastmilk and sharing a small flat with three other bodies was taking its toll. I ached to be at home with my baby girl, but ached equally for time to myself, away from work and family, just to walk (pram free) or watch a movie, anything solo.

For a long time (far too long) I struggled with my desires for ‘me time’, for ocean swims, early morning walks or just to read one small magazine article, or pee alone. Each time I denied myself the time and space I craved, the crankier I was about giving time and energy to others! Yet, whenever I did manage time alone, I returned to my family calm and refreshed, ZEN-like!

I didn’t realise that the age old adage ‘You can’t love another unless you love yourself’, was as true for mothers as anybody. It’s just that with the demands of motherhood, this quest seemed like one of life’s great jokes!

Once I realised that I could make a loving contribution to my family only by adopting a self-centred approach, I leant to toss off the guilt monkey. My path to self-centred enlightenment was not a smooth one, but well worth the struggles.

Knowing how difficult it was to centre myself as a mother of one, I thrill when I hear other mums tell of their daring exploits to look after themselves. And, knowing how dramatically self-centred mothering affects my own happiness, and that of my family (happy mum, happy home), I wanted to (self-ishly), share some of my self-centering quests with other mums.

So What Is Self-Centred Mothering?

For me, self-centred mothering has two meanings: placing your SELF in the centre of your life; and finding your own CENTRE, or balance in your life.

Imagine your life right now as a circle. Imagine that the centre of the circle represents the people and things you give most time, energy and attention to. The outer represents those people and things you give least time, energy and attention to.

Take a few moments to consider who and what are in the centre of the circle. Where do you sit in your circle, in your life? Are you and your needs and desires on the inner or outer edge?

The answer might be clear for you right now. It may not.

How would your life look and feel if your needs were in the centre of your life? If you find this notion selfish or hard to imagine, consider this for a moment... Would you prefer your child grew up wanting to please others, or to know how to make their own decisions and look after their basic needs first, without harming others?

If your answer is the latter, then how are you mirroring this approach for your children? Are you looking after your own health and happiness, or are you putting this on hold for when your children start school, leave school or grow up?

During times when kids are high maintenance (physically or emotionally), or family or community support is lacking, ‘self centering’ may seem impossible. However, self-centering is more of an attitude, rather than a practice. So, while the demands on you as a mother are high, even just lowering your own self-expectations about how much you can do  - or take on, can take the pressure off and give you some breathing space.

Sometimes there’s nothing more freeing than saying a guilt-free ‘no’ to something that would more than likely just add time or other pressure to your life situation.

Finding Your Centre

The second part of self-centred mothering is about finding your own centre and sense of balance as a woman, a mother and a human being. It’s about finding your OWN way of mothering and living your life. Striking the balance in all things that are important and/or a necessary part of your life.

And although the work-life balance plays a big part, finding your own personal centre or gravity in the world requires an honest, wholistic approach.

It’s so easy to lose yourself in motherhood. Firstly in the all-consuming bliss (or otherwise) of your newborn, then as the years go on, in the busyness of the business of mothering.

Not matter what quality your experience of pregnancy, the first stages of motherhood bring with it a spotlight that make it somewhat easier (and more acceptable), to focus on the self. Yet, once gorgeous bubs become tantrum throwers, mothers are easily shunned or scorned in public.

During this period – from toddlerdom on – it’s easy to become invisible in your own life,  to become a ‘forgotten mum’, where your needs and sense of self are placed on the back-burner.

Finding your own centre again is possible. Living in your own centre takes practice and requires a commitment to self. Like all balancing acts, it requires some focus and attention Yet, with practice, self-centering can be natural, healthy and guilt-free.

No Nirvana

The important thing to remember is that, just as there’s no such thing as a happy supermum, there’s no such thing as a motherhood NIRVANA, blissful, peaceful and guilt-free. Just as soon as you’ve ‘got it all together’, life throws you a curly one – from teething to nits, to slumber parties to first dates...and the list goes on!

In the mad ride that is motherhood – as joyful and it is painful – ony YOU can be your own centre. There’s a reason air stewardesses ask you during an emergency to place your own mask on before your child’s...as mothers, only when we are well, awake and fully conscious are we able to give our children what they need.

A guest psychiatrist on a recent talk show spoke of her astonishment at the only client she ever had who had a healthy, happy relationship with his mother. When the psychiatrist investigated further, the patient recalled that his mother LOVED LIFE first, then loved being a mother. She was passionate about life itself, and instilled this in her kids. Her relationship with herself and with life seemed to have a profound positive impact on her relationship with her children.

Was she self-ish, or self-centred?

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If you'd like to comment on Lyndal's First Instalment, we'd love you to email us