Our first Halloween experience

Today we did something we have never done before - we went to a Halloween party.

We loved it!

Master 4 chose his costume - Spiderman.  "I want to be a Superhero, mum".  From the moment it came out of the packaging he wanted to wear everything (including the mask).  So incredibly cute!  Master 1 was Thomas the Tank Engine - not as keen as big brother but he wore the costume for long enough for photos.  The kids really got into it and had their photo taken on pumpkins and we all sat on picnic blankets whilst the kids trick or treated each blanket.

Being from Australia, we don't really celebrate Halloween.  In fact, my general feeling on this event was that it was an over-commercialised contribution to our already epidemic childhood obesity problem.  Intense, I know.

I think it is growing in popularity in Australia.  Last year we had two groups of trick or treaters.  Although, some of the kids weren't even dressed up - further enhancing my view on the over-commercialisation blah blah.  I still gave them a treat - didn't want to rain on the halloween parade.

Since being in the USA, I have completely changed my mind.

It is a complete celebration of the season and everything "fits" together.  It is The Fall (Autumn), so all the leaves are turning, pumpkins of all shapes and sizes are everywhere, all the stores are decorated in orange, black, purple, white and green and full of Halloween decorations and cards and houses are draped in faux spiderwebs, bats, witches hats and jack-o-laterns.  

It is less about the "candy" and more about a wonderful tradition of the coming together of families and the community to celebrate the spookiness and the make believe.

So bring on Halloween and all that comes with it.  I love that it opens my kids minds to different traditions and cultures and draws on their wonderful little imaginations.  

I'm sure they won't mind the candy either... a good chance for the lesson of moderation!

My truth about bonding

I am not maternal.  

I knew I wanted to have children one day but was never technically “ready”.  Honestly, if I could have waited until I was 50 years old before having children I probably would have.  I loved my work and had so many things to achieve BC (before children). 

People said to me “You’ll feel it when you hold that gorgeous little bundle in your arms”. I tried to believe them.  I loved being pregnant.  But I was absolutely petrified of motherhood.  

I didn't know what to expect, I couldn't really plan for it and I couldn't control it.  I knew one of my greatest weaknesses is my lack of patience (one that I struggle with and work on daily) and I wasn't really sure if I would really be able to cope.

When Master 4 was born, I would like to say that I was "smitten from the first moment I saw him" or that "I felt a love so powerful that nothing else mattered".

This wasn't quite the truth.

True, I was overwhelmed with emotion and joy that we had created this little person and that he had finally arrived.  I was secretly overjoyed that he was a little boy as I had always wanted a little boy. But mostly I was scared and in awe of this little person and didn't have the slightest clue what I was going to do with him.

Sure, I had read all the books, I had gone to all the classes, I had spent hours reading blogs and surfing the internet.  I had talked to friends and received advice from a ton of people but none of it really prepared me for the mental and emotional challenge.

The days after his birth are a blur. I was recovering from a c-section (which wasn't really the birth I had in mind), was passing out every time I stood up, had engorgement, struggled with feeding, wasn't producing enough milk for him and he was diagnosed with hip dysplasia and placed in a brace.

Looking back I wanted to do everything right for him but didn't really feel that bond or connection to him immediately.  It took quite awhile even after we got home for me to feel like I deserved to be his mum.

It still hits a nerve even now.

Eventually we came out of the newborn fog and he started to smile just for me and then laugh at my funny faces and stare intently into my eyes when I sang to him (albeit incredibly badly).  This was the turning point, when he started giving a little back.  I finally felt "the bond".

I don't like the emotion of regret, I think it is self-destructive.  But I really wish I had enjoyed the little moments a bit more and not worried so much about what I thought was the 'right thing to do' but did more of "what was right for us".

Despite not feeling the bond immediately, I can now look into his beautiful blue eyes and see the connection between us.  We have a fun, chatty, imaginative and loving relationship which I cherish and try to nurture.  I like to think of it as "bond development"!  

Motherhood is not for the perfectionist.  As a self-confessed perfectionist I still find it difficult to cut myself some slack but we need to don't we? If not for any reason other than to enjoy the moments.  It's the moments that count.