Dirty Little Secret

I told a lie this week. To a total stranger. We were in an elevator at the shopping centre and a stranger asked how old Miss M was. I duly informed her that she is 17 months. The stranger then of course wanted to know if she was walking. I said 'yes, she is so clever'. I wasn't, of course telling a lie about my daughter's apparent 'cleverness', but rather the fact that she can walk. I was done with having one more person give me advice, judgement or criticism for the fact that at 17 months my daughter is well within the scope of normal development but just on the latter end for walking. 


After walking away from this blessed interaction, I must confess I felt a little murky about not having been straightforward. At the same time however, it felt good not to have to be given endless advice about how to manage my child. I could walk away unscathed and feel brilliant about my daughter until I remembered that Miss M doesn't actually walk! 


To cut a long story short, Miss M started walking unassisted on Saturday. She took her first steps in plain view of Polyglott and myself. I nearly cried with pride (and perhaps vindication). She did it in her own time, her own way and of course with her own aplomb. So very much in keeping with the life of Miss M. 


I have discovered that being a parent is hard work. Not merely because of the parenting element, but because of the fact that every other piece of blessed humanity wishes to kindly assist you in your parenting by giving unwanted advice. Here is a smattering of things people have kindly informed me that I have been doing poorly in my parenting:

• I didn't put her in daycare early enough. Apparently Miss M only being in care one day per week from January until April is now insufficient. I have been creating a child who is clearly 'mother dependent' and won't succeed in the world because of the love and nurture I can give her in the home.It's better to toughen her up, socialise her and let her get on with being part of an 'educational program'. 
• What I feed Miss M. I am apparently a negligent parent because Miss M loves to eat what we eat. I never really gave her baby food and that makes me a bad parent because it was too advanced for the poor child. I look at the way in which she devoured whatever we ate as evidence for the fact that she was all ok!
• My sleep management techniques. When I had Miss M I had grand plans of being an 'attachment' parent and Miss M would just feed and sleep as needed and let me know. Well, that didn't work out too well. Miss M would never have slept had I not set some ground rules. She now sleeps 13 hours at night and up to 3 hours in the daytime. I have been informed that my approach from the early weeks of her life could be harmful. I saw the evidence of psycho, unhappy baby transforming into incredibly delightful baby once she got some sleep. No longitudinal study required there.
• I'm too 'calm'. Ironically no one has ever accused me of that in my entire life until now. I've been more often than not accused of being 'highly strung' or a 'drama queen'. Now, allegedly I'm the opposite. I don't race to Miss M the moment she wakes or calls my name. I try to encourage her to tell me what she needs rather than running through a list of 'do you wants'. I let her roam the house and don't put her in a play pen. Again, that apparently makes me 'too calm' and as such that is inherently detrimental to her development. 

You may be wondering how this blog post relates to a life of tight budgets. It doesn't. But it is my reality as a full-time wife, mother and part-time university bureaucrat. I juggle. Not literally as I am so insanely uncoordinated that I can barely get a cup of water to my mouth. I do however juggle what I believe I need to do as a parent based on the reality of our financial situation, the needs of my husband, my faith and then somewhere in the mix, my needs. Some weeks I get it right, other weeks I fail in epic proportions. This week I managed to get some of the 'balance' right, but told a lie. And here ends my confession. 

Perspective in Times of Cankles and Other Ailments

Are you starting to get an idea as to where I might be heading with this post? Yes, that's right. I have cankles. To the uneducated, cankles are where your calves and ankles become one. Whilst the image to the right might not truly portray my situation, you get the drift.


I also had a headache all day. A semi low-grade one that just dragged on. I'm not prone to such an ailment and I can't imagine what it would be like to live with chronic episodes. Urgh. Suffice to say, I think my husband would disown me. 


While we are getting the complaints out of the way, I think my readers should know that our shoebox doesn't have airconditioning. It retains heat very nicely (which I am hoping is a bonus for winter). If I sit on our leather couches, I stick to them. If I lay down on our bed, ants crawl all over me as there is a big nest outside the shoebox. Escaping this heat is impossible. Given my pregnant state, I take this weather a little more seriously than most. If I were in Sweden, I would walk around naked. Sadly, I think our neighbours would report me for visual assault if I were to do that here in Sydney!


It has been a long and grumpy day. I have been self-centred, focused on my own issues rather than maintaining appropriate perspective. Given this is Sunday, a day that should be reserved for rest and reflection, it is appropriate that I bring myself (and possibly you) back to a sense of just the comforts that we have here in the wealthier nations of earth.

1. Right now, almost a billion people on the planet don't have access to clean, safe drinking water. That's one in eight of us.  (www.charitywater.org)
2. 8.1 million
 children under the age of five die each year, mostly from preventable and treatable causes. (www.one.org) 
3. 358,000 mothers 
die each year due to pregnancy-related causes. (www.one.org)
4. Approximately 925 million people are hungry around the world today, an increase of an estimated 80 million people since 2008. (www.one.org)
5. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people can expect to live substantially shorter lives than other Australians – up to 20 years less in some cases. (www.oxfam.org.au)
6. Babies born to Aboriginal mothers die at twice the rate of other Australian babies. And they experience higher rates of preventable illness such as heart disease, kidney disease and diabetes. (www.oxfam.org.au)

Ok, I will stop. I could go on all evening. It's really really hard to complain about my cankles or the lack of airconditioning in our shoebox when confronted with the reality of life for the majority on planet earth. 

How do you challenge yourself on 'tough' days? Do you even challenge yourself or like me, sometimes just give in to self-pity? 

To Market To Market...

'This is insane', declared Polyglott as we left our shoebox at 5.15am this morning with Miss M (17 months) in tow. This was quickly followed by the somewhat desperate assertion: 'we need to stop for coffee'.


Ordinarily if we are catching a flight to some exotic location, Polyglott is raring to go. He loves an international adventure. Unfortunately, today we weren't heading to Sydney Airport. Instead, we were heading to the Sydney Markets to purchase fruit and vegetables on behalf of our newly joined fruit and vegetable co-op.


Armed with $200 for the 8 member families, I was a little excited and terrified at the responsibility. Ordinarily I suffer from the need to please as well as be perfect in all I do. I was afraid that my pregnant brain would rule and I would spend the money on something I was craving, eg tropical fruit.


I won't bore you with the details with the ins and outs of market purchasing, but suffice to say, we felt powerful, proud and overwhelmed by the selection available. I may have become a little crazed in the process. People stepped aside as I strode through with my bloated pregnant belly and Miss M perched high in the backpack on my back. I was on a mission to save these families from the perils of mega-corporations. Suffice to say, it was worth the effort, the produce was fresh and terrifyingly so much cheaper than at one of Sydney's major grocery retailers. In support for my argument, one might notes that  Woolworths Home Shop is today listing bananas at $1.47 PER BANANA. I was able to purchase a whole kilo for $1.50. Get the drift?


We divided the spoils as best we could and set off to deliver to the other co-op members. That part may have felt a little arduous as the glow of financial victory was starting to wear off and the coffee had only put a bandaid on the sleep deprivation wound. But we did it, secure in the knowledge that at the very least these families would have a ridiculous number of carrots to consume throughout the week! 

Polyglott and I want to challenge the traditional belief that having a mere few dollars in one's bank account means that one needs to eat a diet comprised of highly processed and nutrient deficient food. 


What's your food philosophy when the dollars are tight? No judgement here... just curiosity. If you feed your family hot chips every night, I want to know. If you eat only russian caviar even when the dollars are tight, that I want to know too! Basically, I like to know everything about everyone. Over to you.

How Low Can You Go?

An article by Adele Horin in the Sydney Morning Herald sparked the commencement of this blog. This year my husband (who shall henceforth be known as Polyglott), commenced study on a full-time basis. He resigned from his comfortable role as a Public Servant and we decided to attempt to live on student benefits.


We are always up for a challenge. Last pregnancy he made us bus through the militarised zone in nuclear, northern Russia, just because we could. Obviously, we aced that challenge so it was time for something a little more difficult. Could we live without the luxuries, the coffees, the nice haircuts etc at a time when everyone is suggesting we mortgage ourselves to the eyeballs and enter the relentless Sydney property market?


We bit the bullet. We have moved into student accommodation, and are attempting to do the 'impossible'. I'm struggling to give up the coffees out, the nice haircuts and the thought of our annual trip to visit family in Sweden. 


This blog is about our adventures to stretch the dollars, confront the social norms of life in a wealthy, industrialised city and maintain our sense of humour in the process. Will we end up like hermits with children who don't know anything other than lentils, recycled goods and roam the streets naked? Only time will tell. Come with us...


What's the one thing you would struggle to give up if you were required to 'live below the line'?