As one door closes...

I've never been a big fan of New Years Eve. Or big into New Years Resolutions. The combination of drinking and goal setting into the wee hours just seems like a really bad idea. Mastering Tae Kwon Do, learning Mandarin and navigating the Cape to Cairo route...on a bike all seem like fabulous ideas when your liver is digesting a vat of red wine.
 

I do have very fond memories of various New Years Eve parties growing up (Barney's at Gold Reef City, Greensleeves and Bazley Beach) and I'll never forget my first with Ryan. And his cousin Wayne. I think there comes a point in your life when the end of years start bluring into one another and this usually ties in when it's no longer a mystery who you'll be kissing as the clock strikes twelve.  

But I think New Years Eve celebrations from here on in are going to be a little bit different.

The year twenty thirteen has been a magical year for me. It brought with it some incredible changes. Obviously the highlight of this year was the birth of our little boy. No doubt about it. I remember saying to someone in early 2012, before Ryan and I decided to start family, that I didn't want to have a baby in the year 2013 because it has 13 in it (I'm not superstitious, I just like round numbers) not only was our little one born this year but he has the most unique birthday imaginable! I healed a lot this year too, after carrying enough excess baggage that would've made a Kardashian look as if they were traveling light. This was a really important to me, to leave some things behind before I embarked on my journey as a parent. Although if the baggage had been matching Louis Vuitton I may have held onto it a little while longer. 

One of the most significant changes in my life this year was the fact that Ryan had the most significant change in his; leaving the company he'd been with for a decade and which also spanned our entire relationship. Talk about a white knuckle moment for a hormonal pregnant woman! 

The year twenty fourteen now beckons. I knew, before Oscar made his appearance, that it's going to be THE year of change. I didn't realise that I'd have an epiphany hours after giving birth though. It might've been the combination of pain medication, adrenaline and pure euphoria but as I looked at my first born shortly after 15:30 on the 09/11/13 I knew that I wanted to change my life entirely so it revolved around the little bundle wrapped in my arms. And the only way to do that is to pursue the things that bring out the best in me. So next year will see me do just that, that's what maternity leave is intended for anyway.

I don't know exactly what next year will bring. I do know that it will be one of significant change. We have two very important ingredients to make it so; time, we have the time to pursue the things we are passionate about. Ryan and I are also very fortunate that we have the time, most importantly, to spend with Oscar, something we're already so grateful for. The other is each other; I know that there is no other person on the planet that I'd rather have by my side next year and the year after that...and the year after that...and, well, you get the idea. Next year sees us celebrate seven years together and if I think about what we've achieved as a couple and as individuals in that time, I'm genuinely proud. And incredibly excited to see what will happen next. 

Next year sees my Granny celebrate her 90th birthday. A decade shy of a century. Our only living grandparent, who this year made it her mission to keep up to date with my blog. My Granny, Rhoda,  raised three boys, so it will be her that I turn to next year for advice on how to raise my little man...or how not to when I hear some of the horror stories of what the three of them got up to growing up! One thing my Granny taught me, silently, is not to hold onto regret, to say what you feel because you might not get a chance to say it at all. 

If I think about my life and hopefully I have inherited some of my Grannies genes that will allow me to see my 90th birthday too, then I'm only just over 1/3 of the way done. There is still a lot of life to live. And now we have a little person to get started on his own journey into the big wide world. How exciting is that?

So if you're reading this and it's still New Years Eve (or even if it's not) don't think about what your goals are for next year or who you'll kiss at midnight (if you have a significant other it better be that person rather than some random stranger) or how the next 365 days will unfold. 

Live each day as if it's January 1st and you're only 1/3 done; with new promise, rejuvenation and very little excess baggage. 

So far, so good...

So we're exactly a month into our new roles as Oscars parents and what a month it has been! If he were old enough to critique our parental skills it would be around this time that we'd have a review. Or get him to complete a little survey and score our capabilities! Some of the questions could be "how would you rate your parents nappy changing skills?" or "on a scale of 1 to 5 would you say your baby needs are being met?" or "which milk source do you prefer, mommy-cow or formula-cow?".

Here are a few things that I've learnt so far;

It can take hours (sometimes an entire day) to get ready

One thing Ryan and I agreed on was making sure each other was able to have a shower and get dressed in the morning. I consider it an achievement if I'm able to have a shower before noon. I consider it a complete and utter miracle if I'm able to have a shower, wash my hair, get dressed and have breakfast. And it takes divine intervention for me to have a shower, wash my hair, straighten my hair, put on make-up, get dressed and have breakfast in under an hour. I know this because it has only happened once (yes, just once) in the last 30 days.

Babies don't come with a manual

You get more instructions with flat pack furniture from Ikea than you do with a tiny-human. In the early days (pre-hospital departure) I kept on asking the midwives how much should my tiny-human poop or eat or wee in a 24hr period. I know they told me the answer but even now I can't remember what it was. I just know that our tiny-human is alive and poops, eats and wees just fine. All the other stuff, Google seems able to solve just fine.

Having a child is the same as having a dog (according to my sister!)

Just yesterday, having lunch we overheard the couple next to us call their little boy Oscar...and obviously we had to engage in conversation. This happens ALL the time. Having a baby has made me a little more sociable with child-rearing strangers. This is apparently what dog owners do while walking them, which is where Kerry has drawn the comparison. I'm not convinced. But someone needs to create a website called www.compareachild.com. Oh wait they have...it's called Mumsnet.

It's possible to forget your child's name

I shouldn't really tell this story, but I will. On the bus recently, I struck up a conversation with a child-rearing stranger who told me his little girl was called Isla, "what's your little boys name?" he asked me. I looked at him blankly for a split second longer than I should've before saying "oh his name is Har...Oscar". Hopefully this won't happen often and should serve as a warning to parents-to-be; have a short list, not a long short list of potential names for your tiny-human. (Harry was on our long short list)

Mothers know best...even mine!

My second night in hospital left Oscar and I completely exhausted. I broke the first rule and cuddled him in bed with me and the two of us fell fast asleep. My alarm went off at the designated time for his feed and rather than wake my sleeping baby I thought it was best for him to carry on sleeping. Mother knows best. The next morning I was greeted by a midwife who didn't take to lightly that there was a tiny-human sleeping in my bed and even less so that it had been four hours since his last feed "tiny-humans need feeding every three to four hours as they'll get jaundice if they don't" came her stern warning. When my Mom arrived two days later she rubbished the advice given by the midwife and told me "Oscar will cry when he's hungry, that's when you need to feed him and ALL babies get jaundice.". So we stopped watching the clock and just make sure Oscar doesn't sleep for longer than five hours at a time.

Being on maternity leave has sparked my inner inventor

They say that your brain switches gear when you're away from your normal day-to-day role. Woman on maternity leave are more creative, inventive etc. And this is true! So far I have had an idea for a best-selling book, a new type of maternity bra and thought of very creative meals to create from left overs. It's the ideas I have during the 4am feed  that are a little worrying though. It's usually around this time that my ideas take on a life of their own. Like the idea I had for keeping Oscars pacifier firmly in his mouth - surely duct-tape would do the trick? Placed directly under his nose obviously.

We actually have a son

I know this shouldn't really come as a surprise. I did carry him for nine months after all. But it wasn't until a short time ago when I walked into our GP's surgery to register Oscar that the words passed my lips; I have a son. I have a son who needs to be registered with the GP. I climbed back into the car, with my son in the back seat and turned to his father, "We have a son. Not just a baby boy, an actual son.".

Wow.

The small stuff remains just that...small

There is that age old saying about not sweating the small stuff. My friend Carol practically beat this into me during my pregnancy as I would get so annoyed, irritated and just fed-up about really small things. It all seemed really big to me at the time. But Carol is a Mom and her baby Kyle is 25yrs old so she knows what's she talking about. And in the moments that I have been on my own with Oscar I have drowned myself in just taking him all in. There is no mountain too high, or river too long or dragon too scary that I wouldn't climb, swim or slay for our little boy. Everything else is small in comparison.

I'm one of THOSE mothers

The mothers that used to annoy the crap out of me with the constant noise about how amazing/brilliant/life-changing it all is.  The ones who overshare everything about their offspring. Who post thousands of pictures and updates. Who think they're the only one on the planet that has created a tiny-human. One thing I will never be is one of THOSE mothers who refers to my child as DS (translation = darling son). A DS are two letters that usually come after the word Nintendo. And I hopefully won't be using that word for a very long time.

Groundhog Day

Remember that movie where the guy wakes up to the same radio tune, in the same bed, wearing the same clothes and has exactly the same day that he had the day before? Well welcome to the life as a new mother! The only thing that changes is Oscar. He gets a little heavier. He gets a little more illuminated. He starts to come into his own. Life is predictable. And I like it. The day absolutely flies by. It's a whirlwind of feeds, extractions, changes, steaming, crying, winding and napping. As we approach midnight and pumpkin-hour; we hit reboot and get to do it all again the next day. But hopefully I'm wearing different clothes!

I've learnt a lot. More than I thought I would in this amount of time. I've also learnt about unconditional love. The love I have for our little baby boy is a love I've not known before. It's an unselfish, drop-what-you're-doing type of love.

But let's face it...Oscar is an easy child to love unselfishly.