CINDERELLA TRIPPIN'

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Archive for the tag “Health”

How I Get Him In And How I Get Him Out ( The Bath That Is )


My son is five.

And instructions don’t sit well with him.

“Instructing” him to do something has the same result as me asking the pot plant outside the kitchen door to cook dinner. Or asking his father to hand over R780 so I can buy the latest “it” eye cream. Or “thinny- chin- chin” face cream. Or knee-wobble-reducing cellulite treatment.

It ain’t gonna happen.

So over the years of getting to know this son of mine I’ve come up with a few strategies to get him to move his body from one place to another place he doesn’t particularly want to be in. Like the bath. When Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is on. Repeat nr 7 he has seen many many many times. But still wants to watch for “5 more minutes……pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase…….”

When he was younger and lighter I could just pick him up and carry him to where I wanted him to be.

Being five has put a firm end to that.

So here is what works:

1. Give a warning that bath time is going to be happening soon. Give him time to adjust to the idea. Like this : “2  minutes to bath time!” in a friendly but firm voice. If he starts protesting, ignore and leave the room.

2. After 2 minutes say : “OK. Bath time!” ( friendly but firm. Control the inner hysteria building up). If you get the pot plant effect because he’s staring at Mickey and pointedly ignores you, grab the remote and switch of the DSTV. Instant control. ( for now). Place remote on a high surface.

3. Use bath salts or food colouring to turn the bath water green, blue,red, whatever. Instant fascination and glee.

4. Also try switching off the bathroom light and lighting a few candles. Again, instant fascination and general calm down. ( mother AND 5 year old. )

5. Add 2 drops of pure essential Lavender Oil to the water. Again, instant calm. ( mother at least)

OK. So he’s in. You’re halfway there.

But waaiiiiiiiiiiiiit……….now that he’s in the bath he doesn’t want to get out, now does he?  Because getting out means moving his body  from one place to another because his mother says so, doesn’t it? And, being five, THAT IS NOT ON.

Sneaky ways to encourage a 5 year old body to get out of the bath:

1. Give a warning that bath time is about to come to an end. ” Out the bath in 2 minutes!”

2. Warm up his towel over the heater and tell him to stand up before it gets cold. Works wonders in winter.

3. Use his father. As in “Daddy is waiting for you to come help with….” or ” Daddy is waiting for the bath so that you and him can go……….”

4. Use his sister. As in ” She’s already in the TV room having some……….” or ” She’s finished watching Teletubbies and says you can have the remote…”

5. If all else fails, use bribery and corruption. As in “Mommy has a special surprise for you when you’ve finished your bath”.  ( a new bottle of bubbles, an old toy you’ve discovered behind the couch, a sweet, a chocolate, 3 sips of Coke, WHATEVER. This child now needs to get OUT OF THE BATH)

6. Almost forgot. If you lit some candles, use them. As in “Get out the bath so you can blow out the candles for us.”

Right. You’ve seen to it that your child is clean.

Now to to get the hang of sibling rivalry. As in “She’s touching my toys! She’s BROKEN MY TOWER! She…sniff……….she……………..sniff………..SHE…….!!!!!!”

Deep breaths. In. Out.

IN………

OUT…….

Sibling_Rivalry

 

 

 

 

 

GREETINGS FROM A FULL BOX OF CHOCOLATES


 

I had my annual check up with the psychiatrist yesterday.

It’s been 2 years since I ended up having shock treatment for untreated PND ( Post-Natal Depression ) .

 

Of that horrific time in our lives I remember very little.

Lying in bed for days. Enjoying nothing. Wanting nothing but sleep,sleep and more sleep.

Incapable of brushing my teeth, reading or concentrating on anything for more than a few seconds. Unwilling to get dressed, unwilling to go shopping.Yes.ME.

Not wanting my son, not wanting my marriage, not wanting MY LIFE.

 

Two years on the right treatment and fast forward to yesterday:

I walked in there with my perfect baby  in my arms, now a year old. I looked into that man’s eyes and proudly said:

“Meet my daughter!”

 

Three proud words after “they” all said “How can she even THINK of having another child?”

Three proud words after the stress of a pregnancy while on anti-depressants. Wondering and worrying for 9 months whether this baby I was carrying would be ok.

And husband worrying about whether I would make it through in one piece.

 

I made it.

I’ve gone from zombie-with-no-memory to  a mentally strong  mom and wife with a sense of humor, a dream to write and the ability to deal with ( most ) of what this here life throws at me.

 

A full box of chocolates?

Debatable.

 

Elevator going all the way to the top?

Most days, yes.

 

Wanting my life?

HELL YEAH!!

 

( ps. If you know of anybody needing support with issues around depression and/or PND PLEASE show them this post . I’d be more than happy to provide information and a listening ear where needed. )

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HOW TO SET YOUR MICROWAVE ON FIRE


1. Get 4-year-old in bath.

2. Answer questions about why we need soap, why soap makes bubbles, why soap goes on a sponge, why we can’t eat soap, why soap comes in different colours, why we don’t brush our teeth with soap, why soap shouldn’t be left in water for too long, why we have to buy soap in a shop, who makes soap, why they make soap, why soap a/b/c through to z.

3. Get 4-year-old out of bath. Threaten or bribe as necessary.

4. Get 4-year-old dry and dressed. Threaten or bribe as necessary.

5. Settle 4-year-old in front of Disney TV.

6. Put dry noodles in microwave container.

7. Check on 4-year-old. No, he’s not painting the furniture/ throwing the livingroom cushions at his sister’s head/ jumping on the coach. Open kitchen door for barking dog.

8. Place noodles in microwave. Do not add water.

9. Set on HIGH for 4 minutes.

10. Press Start.

THERE’S A HAIR IN MY CLEAVAGE


I was busy with step 23 of my morning titivating  routine when I glanced down and saw it.  A hair. Growing between the twins. A hair with attitude. Bad attitude. Attitude that said “YOU, me dear,  are getting older as we speak.”

The redistribution of hair seems to be one of nature’s favourite tricks when one steps a day or two past the age of 35. Where you want it there’s less. Where you never thought you’d see it, it suddenly appears. With attitude. Tenacity. “You can pluck me, BUT I WILL BE BACK. ”

There’s also a certain crepiness creaping in. Cleavage, hands, eyes.

And sagging. Cleavage, upper arms, jawline.

My mom loved this saying : “How do you know you’re getting old? When your mother’s hands come out of your jersey ….”

I don’t know why I thought it’ll never happen to me. Seeing my mother’s hands come out of my jersey. Having the jawline move south. GETTING OLD.

I’m pre-botox but definitely at the “anti-ageing”end of the beauty product spectrum.   I have   the handcream, the eye treatment, the firming serum, the line reducing night cream, the silk pillowcase – so -as – not -to – wake -up- with – crinkly- cheekes. Also, the anti-sagging day cream, the upper arm firming treatment and the state-of-the-art tweezers.

It’s all quite tiring actually. Some days I feel like letting it all just grow, hang and sag.

I looked at my daughter this morning. She’s 4 months old. She’s bald, she’s toothless and she’s got a round tummy. She’s also the happiest creature I’ve ever seen.

Makes you think, doesn’t it?

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