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Friday, August 05, 2005


Karnival of the Kidz 

No cute pictures today, I'm afraid. This one is more of a rant.

Tara, at five, is a "strong character".
At four, she had "definite ideas".
Three: "Stubborn".
Two: "Extremely active".
At a year, "prone to frustration".

I have no idea where she gets it from...

It took five whole years before I would even consider having another child.

Mainly because of the newborn stage.

Tara was "colicky" for the first three months. In layman's terms, that means, "fucking terrible". As in, "Oh, Tara was a terrible baby. Terrible!"

She would feed, constantly. When she wasn't feeding, she would scream. Sometimes she would do both. It was unheard of for her to sleep longer than two hours, and she would have no more than six, non-consecutive hours of sleep in every twenty-four.

She hated everything. Bath? Scream. Cot? Scream. Stroller? Scream.

I fed her exclusively until she was nearly three months, when I had to get back to work. To colleagues who had decided that I should get the toughest jobs, because I had been having a lovely five-month rest. Bastards.

Still, I noticed that Tara was becoming easier.

I read this today, and my blood boiled. Why had nobody told me these things? I drank gallons of milk when I was breastfeeding. That's what you were supposed to do! I eat a lot of cheese, too. In fact, cheese is my main form of protein. I rarely eat fish, meat or eggs. That is a hell of a lot of dairy.

If only I had known!

Tara was also thirsty. There was a three-month heatwave, and temperatures were up in the high eighties, (that's as hot as it gets here), but the breastfeeding "expert" insisted that my baby needed no cooled boiled water.

You can imagine my state of mind during those dark days. I had brought a little child into this world to suffer. To shriek with pain until the agony so overwhelmed her that she could only whimper a pathetic, "a-meh! umeh!"

So when I was told that the colic was "probably" due to the fact that I smoked before I knew I was pregnant, I nearly dissolved in a puddle of guilt and tears.

Now if you excuse me, I am just off to murder that Nazi of a breastfeeding advisor. Don't worry. Nobody will miss her. She doesn't have kids yet.


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