Running On Quicksand

Coincidently is a lot like parenting.

You’ve either got to learn to move pretty quickly or sink.

The first time i ever realized this was probably when i was in labour with my beautiful son. I had a pre-term delivery and as most of you know, babies don’t wait for anyone. I had tickets to ACDC that evening and a six hour round trip to see them, plus my baby shower planned for two days after and a wedding the following week, so this was definitely not the plan. But mostly i had one more item to go in my labour bag. Powerade. My water broke at 6am and by 6.30 my contractions were 45 seconds and three minutes apart, so we decided it may be time to haul ass to the hospital. I had plans of stopping at coles and grabbing some powerade before we arrived, and my other half had plans to just get there. No stops. No babies being born in the car. No negotiations. To cut a long story short, by the time we had made the half hour trip through roadworks to the delivery suite he had promised to search every vending machine in every ward and was not to return without blue powerade. As by this stage i was convinced that no woman had ever given birth successfully without powerade. We arrived in the delivery suite, got settled in, the blue powerade was hunted and gathered and promptly confiscated by the midwife as she thought it would be best to keep my tummy empty in case of needing a C – Section.  Basically if i had have been organised i could have had my beloved powerade in the car and escaped a 16 hour dehydrated labour.

As i type now i really fear this parenting quicksand has gotten the better of me.

I am a huge risk to be swallowed whole by the mess that has accumulated around the house, the dishes that need to be loaded into the dishwasher, the washing that seems to have bred in the basket after the alluring aphrodisiac of a weeks worth of rain and the planning of a little man’s first birthday party in one very short week.

So as i ponder throwing on a load of washing, loading the dishwasher, ordering a few antipasto platters and writing on the party bags, i have decided like the powerade incident that i will let myself sink and enjoy building blocks with my baby boy.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. caspette
    Feb 23, 2011 @ 22:16:59

    I too have given up on being “perfect”.

    If the choice is spend an hour cleaning or an hour playing with my son. Unless the cleaning is a health hazard, then playing with my son wins hands down. Working full time means my time is now limited with my son and my hubby, so I would much rather a house that looks unclean then miss out on quality time with them.

    But the guilt remains, and if I know someone is coming around I still rush around in a blind panic trying to clean.


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