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October 3, 2002
Tom is 10 months old
Some times I begin writing a diary entry and am inundated with tales to tell and important facts to record. Then there are other times when I am completely stumped and cannot think of a single story to impart. This is one of those times. So unless inspiration hits, this is going to be a short entry.
Looking at life from a different angle:
Tony hurt his back lifting computers at work – it was a muscular strain. He was unable to walk. Tom liked having someone else down at his level commuting on all fours. Having Tony out of the system made for a hectic week. Fortunately he is on the mend and is back on deck.
Social butterfly:
It is quite a sad state of affairs when the pinnacle of your social calendar is a Tupperware party. Wednesday night I joined a group of friends for an evening of champagne and plastic ware demonstrations. Somehow I managed to send $144 on a few containers. I certainly hope Tupperware is as good as everyone says.
Tonight I am off to a lingerie party. Tony is more than happy for me to spend what ever I want at this gathering. I must admit it is time to give the daggy maternity underwear a rest. I mentioned in my previous entry that I feel as though my body has returned (a shadow of it’s former self – but nonetheless it is back). It is probably time to dress it up a tad. That reminds me. With summer peeping it’s head from around the corner, I took to sunny Cronulla to find myself a swimsuit. Tony was dragged along to critique my selections. I find it crucial to have an honest spectator present to ensure that you don’t go home with a completely ridiculous purchase. Tony has good taste and can be tactfully honest. As it turns out, I did not have to do much dragging – he was a willing participant to the exercise (even though he did stand in the shop demonstrating uncomfortable body language as males in dress shops do). To Tony’s credit he soon became involved in the selection process, intermittently retreating to his “I do not belong here” composure, to make sure every body was aware that he gets no enjoyment whatsoever, from picking out woman’s clothing. We gathered up a number of styles and I retreated to the change room. There I stood in a skimpy ensemble draped about my iridescently white, goose-bumpy skin (the weather is still a tad cool for semi-naked attire). No doubt the search for appropriate swimwear is an intimidating task. Nonetheless after trying a number of bikinis the perfect little number was found. Not too conservative, not too frivolous. I am at an age where I am teetering on the borderline of cutesy stuff versus the ‘more is more’ philosophy of swimwear. I have a fear of staying too long in the cutesy camp and having comments suggesting that I am mutton dressed as if I were a lamb, whispered behind my back. Yet I decided to be a little bold and frolic like a lamb for at least one more summer season. Besides I have big breastfeeding busookers. I have to show them off while they are still around.
The joys of parenting are not fully realised until the children are in bed:
The toys have been packed away, the crumbs swept from the floor and silence fills the room. You take a deep breath. Although the day is nearly over, it is the first chance you have had to put your feet up and relax. It is at this point that I find greatest satisfaction in my role as mother – the joys of parenting are not fully realised until the children are in bed. No doubt a glass of chardonnay assists in the feeling of wellbeing. After a long day a glass of chardonnay is easily justifiable.
Years ago I went to a yoga class. It was run by a very wise lady. At the end of the class she read out a letter written by yet another wise lady who was very elderly and close to death. The letter was beautifully written, and I wish I could remember more of what she wrote. One exert from the letter that I do remember is that the lady spoke of things she would have done a little differently if she had the chance to repeat her life over. She promised to eat more ice cream, enjoy fine wine and have more sex. I do not mind a glass of plonk and am an absolute lover of ice cream. So I can justify the reasonably regular consumption of both by heeding the advise of a wise old lady. Now, as for the sex part. To be honest, my libido is a trifle flat. About 36 hours after the birth of Annie, the midwife said something ludicrously inappropriate: “What contraception are you going to use?” I did a double take. Surely she couldn’t be thinking…She wasn’t implying…But yes, this misguided woman truly believed I was going to have sex again…in this lifetime…with a man. If I hadn’t pushed my sense of humour out with the baby, I’d have laughed. Two years and another child later, I am absolute living proof that sex does return after childbirth. But definitely NOT in the same form as before. The lack of activity in the boudoir is a bone of contention between Tony and I. Like a typical male, Tony equates sex with love. If we do not have sex, then I must not love him. Of course we have discussed this topic in great length. And although he understands that hormones, fatigue and lactating breasts are colluding to keep him at arms length, he claims that his male hormones are equally as active, that they are evil and that they put suggestions into his head. So the vicious circle continues, I am afraid to show him affection as such a display invariably leads to Tony wanting a bit more than a cuddle. And then he does not understand why I pull away and he is left starving for affection. I believe we are one of the many parents of young children with such issues. Fortunately as Tom gets older, our sex life is improving and although we are still trapped in the vicious circle, we can both understand where the other is coming from. Tony is a rare male in that he is in touch with his emotions. So talking through our issues is never a problem. I am very, very lucky to have a life mate who is always eager to fix any troubles we encounter.
So enough about sex, I hope when Tom and Annie read this entry when they are older that they are not too embarrassed delving into the very sensitive territory of their parents sex life. If so, sorry Annie and Tom – perhaps too much information for you!!
On to a more publicly accepted topic - Shopping – last Saturday Tony gave me an entire day to myself. Yes, a WHOLE day!! So what else could I do but hit the shops for a spot of retail therapy. I am usually not much of a spender, but lately I am struck by a desire to wear out the plastic. I bought some cute little summer outfits for the kids and a couple of tops for myself. I just love, love, love getting out on my own. I feel free. I sat and read a magazine while I had a latte and a muffin. I enjoyed myself thoroughly. Yes I am a typical girl – I love to shop.
That’s it for now:
I think I will call it quits. As I said at the start I am not struck with verbal diarrhoea on this occasion. No doubt my urge to encapsulate minor details of my and my families life will return next time. Till then we all get a short reprieve.
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