How to Cope with Setbacks

We all have it in life sometimes, don’t we? An idea, a plan, something that we hope for, and we try to attain it. Sometimes things get thrown in our path though that might get in the way. And sometimes those things seem so big that we wonder if we can even continue on the path.

With the little setbacks, we move past it, look back and wonder why we stressed so hard over it. But then you get those big giant setbacks, and they can rattle us.

Sometimes they have us questioning the universe, and they feel like we’re stopped in our tracks. However, they don’t have to stop us in our tracks.

From the Left Field setback
Image source

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A Spoonful of Sasstitude….

…… helps Mummy’s medicine (aka wine) go down at breakneck speeds. That’s how the song goes, right?

So you might remember a little ditty I penned last year about the FF’s? Yeah. That. I’ve been naively under the assumption that with the passing of four and venturing into the land of five that we’d leave all that guffaw behind. Well, we have in a way.

Only to be replaced with Sasstitude.

What is this Sasstitude you speak of, doc? I’m glad you asked. Or not really glad, more a shared pity with you. Walk with me, while we learn of this affliction.

sasstitude ecard
Erry day

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The Google Effect

Today’s Wellness Wednesday message is brought to you by ‘take your own freakin’ advice for once you douche’.

So yesterday we had our check-ups; me with my obs for the very last time. I was legitimately sad that I wouldn’t be seeing him again. I love my obs, he’s a sarcastic son of a gun and we’d trade stories from the front line.

I love him, but not enough to have another baby. DONE. SO SO SO DONE.

Mr. OT also had his 6 week check-up, with the amazing paediatrician that we fell in love with when Miss DP was in special care and diagnosed with a ventricle septal defect. He’s amazeballs. We switched to him after having a paed who would give me panic attacks if I saw her in the corridor of the hospital. It was the right move.

I was expecting to be in and out of his office in a jiffy, with him lavishing praise on the gorgeous little creature sitting in the capsule before us.

I forgot that he’s actually a specialist and it’s written into their medical oath to be at least 30 minutes late for each appointment.

So 30 minutes later I expected to be out of there in a jiffy with a clean bill of health for Mr. OT. Which we did. Kind of. The doc checked him over, and I mentioned that the little guy sometimes seems like he’s shivering- his little jaw quivers, even when it’s 31 degrees. So the doc looked at him further.

“Ahhh yes, looks like he has clonus”

Say what? I give him a half puzzled, half panicked look, while trying to remain cool and calm. No one wants to hear their kid has something. Unless it’s a ticket to MENSA.

Doc proceeded to explain in a very patchwork fashion what clonus was (I think hiding all the gory details for my benefit), but was quick to add that he was sure everything would be fine and Mr. OT would grow out of it. He also added “I know you’re going to look this up when you get home, but I’m pretty confident he’ll be fine”. He knows me too well.

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7 tips for punching Groundhog day in the face

I’m in the thick of newborn life again. And while I am LOVING being at home (I’d love to say not being at work, but I’m still doing two of my three jobs from home. Yes, yes I am insane), I do find these early weeks of newborn life are a bit like Groundhog Day. Same shit, different day. Get up, feed (well in our case, attempt to feed. The only time this kid cries is when he sees a boob coming at his face. The only boy on Earth to not want to be near boobs. I get they’re a bit used buddy, but shit, at least be polite and humour me), deal with bodily excretions, make goofball faces and get deadpan looks in return, play on the playmat (that’s me, he just sits there staring at me like I’m a dick), rush around madly doing the washing, cooking, cleaning and other kid wrangling while the baby is asleep. Rinse and repeat.

Groundhog-Day-Meme3

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An Apology and a Tale of a Little Dude Part 1.

I keep saying it, but it’s been hectic lately. I can’t imagine why though….

When I say hectic, it’s not like it’s insane, but just that around-the-clock nature and needing to be a regular feeding station for little OT seems to suck the day away before I’ve even realised. Oh that and having to go to bed super early like a toddler to try and deal with overnight feeds- it’s cut my day down, as I’ve always been a night owl with my work and productivity.

So I need to say sorry I haven’t been around much! I was thinking I’d be all over this stuff third time around and I’d be getting posts out like nobody’s business. Because babies only eat and sleep, right? Riiiight? Well, they kinda do, but the eating sessions can take up to an hour round these parts with all the fussing and mucking about and general boob dysfunction. Yep, it’s happened again. Third time’s a charm. But we’ve got a groove cracking now, which is much better than the cracked state of my nips early in the piece. They’re like seriously scarred.

Anyways, hopefully I’ll get back on track soon. But in the meantime, I thought I’d tell the tale of Mr. OT’s arrival. Probably more self-serving than anything else. I love me a birth story. I love them even more when it’s not me pushing out a watermelon from my nether regions. Do you like birth stories? Are you all voyeuristic like me? There’s a good chance that I’m just a total creep. I’m ok with that.

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