Oops!
I forgot which day it was. Here’s a plaintive picture by way of apology for the lack of anything substantial:
Mummy (and Daddy) blogs
Last week, Mediawatch* talked about “mummy bloggers” – women who’ve had children and blog about it. Technically I am one. Unsurprisingly, as I cut down on writing and spend way more time with bodily fluids, my list of blogs that I read is switching from predominantly literary blogs to predominantly parenting blogs. Here are four that I like so far:
blue milk – very much a feminist blog; often M rated for that reason. Australian. It really makes me think about the choices I’m making in my marriage and motherhood.
crappy parenting – illustrated by self-described crappy pictures – all about the hilarious (and often highly disgusting).
How to be a dad – written by two dads (from different families). You know their attitude when you see the blood spatter on the front page. They do mention sex occasionally.
Daddy Doin’ Work – This blog oozes with respect for women.
*This is a fifteen-minute show on the ABC that basically comments on ethical (and often grammatical) issues in Australia’s press.
Learning Curves
One of the great joys of parenthood is all the teaching that you do – babies learn way faster than anyone else (remember when Louisette didn’t even know her arms were attached? And how she can now flip pages and examine small objects and terrorise the cats? That’s all happened this year, as well as so much more). But sometimes you have moments where you think, “Do I really want her to know this?” As she gets more and more mobile (and fast), that question comes up more and more. Sadly, the answer always has to be yes, because she’s going to find out one day….
how to climb stairs
how to open doors
how to open drawers
how to climb down stairs
how to operate zippers
how to push buttons
how to interact with cats
how to sit on chairs all by herself
how to wipe down a table (with something other than her own drool and spew-cloth)
how to climb trees
how to use a boltcutter
. . . . . .
oh dear. . .
Barefoot with Boltcutters
A few days ago I decided to throw away our old, dodgy, rusty clothes horse. It’s easier said than done: the thing is made of heavy duty metal rods so although it’s very light there was no way it was going to fit into a bin. What to do, what to do?
If only there was some kind of device that could cut it into bits. . .
And so it was that CJ and I dropped by CJ’s parents’ place (genuinely without warning, on our way home from swimming) and asked if we could possibly borrow a cup of bolt cutter. Neither of us doubted for a moment that (a) My father in law would own a bolt cutter, and (b) He would know exactly where it was.
As we drove home and I found myself holding what amounts to a limb-length, awesome pair of I-might-just-turn-on-you-and-kill-you scissors, I said to CJ, “Bolt cutters huh? I’m sure they have other uses, but what they’re truly designed for is cutting bolts – chain-link fences and padlocks. When I look at these and ponder their possible versatility, the only image in my head is your dad breaking into some kind of secret government installation.”
“Oh, these are just his MEDIUM bolt cutters.”
“. . . Go on.”
“Well, he has small ones.”
“Like a handbag version? Well, naturally.”
“And then there’s the OTHER end of the scale. . .”
“Your dad has an enormous pair of bolt cutters? Much, much bigger than these?”
“Oh yes.”
I spent the rest of the drive in happy imagination of what a man with my father-in-law’s talents might do with his enormous pair of bolt cutters. Break into REALLY BIG secret government installations, presumably.
Then we were home – showering, cooking dinner, doing washing, etc etc – it was all a bit frantic so I threw the ye olde clothes horse down the stairs (shedding ancient pieces of rusted white rubberised paint every which way), grabbed the rest of the rubbish to take downstairs and then to the curb, and hoped dinner didn’t burn while I hastily chopped up the clothes horse to send it away forever (and good riddance, too). Oh! And I was in my pyjamas. (CJ had his hands full dealing with Louisette’s arsenic hour while also showering himself, her, and helping with dinner.)
I don’t mind telling you, it was AWESOME. My father-in-law keeps his tools in great condition* and it was like cutting through butter with massive scissors. The metal rods fell to bits in seconds, I chucked them in the bin, and the bolt cutters worked exactly like a superpower. I’ve never felt so manly.
Thanks again, CJ’s Dad.
*presumably in case of a last-minute international and/or extraterrestrial issue that needs a size twelve spanner with defibrillation arm and optional rotating flibotnium.
Nine months old
Louisette has now spent more time in the world than in the womb. It seems impossible that she’s only been around the same length of time as I was pregnant – it seems that my life has been full of her grins and giggles and drool forever.
This month was full of adventures – Floriade (twice), swimming (several times), learning to climb stairs, catch a ball, and (almost) stand on her own. You can see all the previous months here.
I snuck in a photo from next month’s lot just because it was so cute (it’s at the end).
The most important job in the world
Quite a few feminists (ie those who believe women and men are equally important, deserve equal pay, equal work opportunities and equal respect) really hate it when anyone describes motherhood as the most important job in the world. I myself cringe when I meet a mother who has no interest in the world outside of her own home.
Motherhood is something that only became a possibility for me after I met CJ – just a few years ago. Having a purpose in life that actually has an impact (unlike writing unpublished books) has changed everything for me. Suddenly life is mostly good instead of mostly bad, and I am largely satisfied with who I am. In some ways I’m in uber-mum mode, since I will shortly be working full-time as a babysitter while also minding Louisette 24-7. I have love and affection and exasperation to spare, and taking Louisette with me to work gives me a unique angle on “having it all” as a mum – a very literal interpretation of filling both the employee and the “mum” role at the same time.
It is abundantly clear to me that raising Louisette is the most important thing I’ve ever done – and I’m a little bewildered that anyone would think that my life is anything less than an expression of freedom and femininity (and I assure you that, ironically, it is very hard for women to choose to stay at home with their kids these days).
Interestingly, my attitude is (apparently; my sources are indirect) similar to the attitude of African American mothers: motherhood is an act of defiance and hope rather than (as many white Western mothers seem to think) a 1950s-esque trap that women fall into.
I’m so glad to be here.
Sweet delicious addiction
The term “chocaholic” is generally a joke, said with a smile – and I’m the first to say it’s probably the most gentle and puppydog-like of all possible substance addictions. But that doesn’t mean it’s not a real problem for many people. The bad news is that I’m about twenty kilos more than I should be (yikes) – and it’s chocolate more than pregnancy or motherhood that’s mostly to blame. The good news is that I’ve just lost five kilos (without even cutting out chocolate entirely) and the more mentally healthy I am the easier it gets. It really looks like I might have the ability to get over my addiction and just enjoy chocolate in a healthy (sometimes naughty, sometimes perfectly restrained) way. So as I work through my physical and mental addiction, I lie on the couch of the internet and talk out loud about all the reasons I eat excessive chocolate, and what I can do about it. Some of it’s pathetic, painful or personal, because that’s the nature of addiction – any addiction. You don’t gotta read it if you don’t wanna.
* Self-loathing/self-destruction: Some people drink or do drugs or self-harm for similar reasons (deliberately eating to the point of nausea is certainly a form of self-harm). Luckily, this is a mental illness thing, and as I continue to mentally improve I very rarely have even 24 hours during which I hate myself. I can tell when my mood is beyond normal, and I know I just need to wait it out.
*Anger/frustration: This has also improved as my life satisfaction and mental health improves. If I’m angry or frustrated one way to express it is to buy stuff – a takeaway meal (which also means less chores) or new clothes or something. I can also monitor how tired or stressed I am, and I can (and do) tell CJ when things aren’t going well – which results in some quiet alone time for me in the evening while he minds Louisette. (He minds her every evening anyway, but I usually stick around and stay available.)
*Retail therapy: Spending money helps a person feel powerful, which is part of my chocolate issue and very easy to solve – I just buy very expensive healthy snacks (or at least healthier than chocolate) like nudie juice drinks or Kettle sweet potato chips. This is related to the above and the below.
*Chocolate is a well-established placebo: I’ve been using chocolate ritualistically for years as a self-medication to fill in the gap between what I’m capable of doing and what I feel I need to do (eg I’d eat a bunch of chocolate if I had a lot of work to do, and that would make me feel like it was possible and that I wouldn’t have a panic attack or breakdown). I still feel that chocolate makes me better, stronger and happier. There’s a little bit of truth to this – people only have a limited amount of self-control, and if I spend it on eating healthily then something else has to give. Once again, spending a bit of silly money helps.
*Physical dependence: When I cut down on the amount of chocolate I eat I know in advance that I’ll have a headache for three days, and my blood pressure drops sharply – which I know because I start blacking out when I stand up. (When I eat chocolate after a gap of twenty-four hours or more, my hands will shake so that I have difficulty opening the packet.) I’m already past the worst, but I can also combat this by cutting down more gradually, by using dark chocolate for a while, by getting a lot of rest and by taking panadol. Cutting down on chocolate also screws up my digestive system (it seems to be fine now) and I imagine there are other physical issues I’m not aware of. The most important gets a point all to itself. . .
*Mood regulation: At times in the seven years of mental illness I just went through, I did actually lose weight. It wasn’t pretty: I was so desperately angry and depressed that I couldn’t socialise much (just endure, hidden away somewhere, until the weight loss was done) and when I was driving somewhere I had to remind myself over and over that driving off the road into a tree wouldn’t solve my problems (“You probably won’t die,” I told myself. “You’ll just end up injured and in hospital and then things will be even worse.”) Now that I’m not insane, I just get a few days every so often where I feel like all life and effort is pointless misery. But ennui is a whole lot better than what I used to go through. Of course I still get very irritable, but one thing mental illness teaches is how to (usually but not always) bite your tongue. I’m also attempting to regulate my mood by eating more turkey (like chocolate, a great source of serotonin) and plenty of grass-fed red meat (which has also been linked to better overall moods – also, I love red meat and it’s a great source of iron).
*Iron: Chocolate (especially milo) has an extremely powerful allure to pregnant and pre-menstrual women, because it’s a quick fix for low iron levels (something which I have on a normal day). And of course everyone knows it’s an energy boost. All I can do to fix that lack is to eat healthy foods, and to let myself eat slightly more chocolate at a certain time of the month (so I don’t crash and binge at the much stronger cravings).
*Habit: Chowing down on chocolate is a well-established habit. I can combat that with simple self-awareness, and with nuts (similar size to individual lollies like M&Ms, so the movement is the same).
*Sugar high: I can use yoghurt or fruit or juice or milk to get a modified sugar high, especially at vulnerable times of day (4pm, and evenings).
*Anticipation: It can be hard to get up in the morning (much less so as a non-mentally-ill person) without something concrete to look forward to in the short term. This is easily solved by always letting myself have two squares of chocolate right after breakfast (this also helps with digestion).
*Palate cleanser: People who diet get a gross-feeling mouth and bad breath. This can be easily solved with tic tacs.
*Tastes good and has a nice texture: Food is meant to be enjoyed, so I can get a similar sense of satisfaction by having really nice meals like Peking Duck or fresh cheese and bacon rolls. That also helps with anticipation and with helping me not feel angry or frustrated with life – because I know I have a delicious dinner waiting for me at the end of the day.
I have a long way to go to be in the healthy weight range (it could easily be a lot longer) but I hope that with practise and self-awareness I can break my unhealthy relationship with chocolate and simply enjoy it. The way I eat chocolate isn’t a good thing to pass on to Louisette, and it’s looking like by the time she’s aware of my eating habits I’ll be able to be a good example.
Gravity
Louisette still thinks the best way to get to the ground from the couch is to crawl off, thus landing face-first. On the up side, she has grasped the idea that it’s good to have some control when she’s shifting from a standing to a sitting position. Sometimes she will simply cry when she wants to sit, but as she grow in confidence, she practises and gets better.
With a certain amount of trepidation, CJ and I decided that since Louisette is climbing anyway, we should teach her to crawl up stairs (our stairs have walls on both sides and are carpeted with no sharp edges, so as far as stairs go they’re an ideal learning environment).
“Water conditioning” is when you teach a very young child to hold their breath underwater by having a specific phrase that you say every bathtime just before pouring water over their face. In time, a baby learns to shut their eyes and hold their breath, and then you can begin teaching them to put their head under the water (without them inhaling too much and going into a pre-drowning state). We’ve been doing this every bathtime and swim time for month, and at first we were pleased that Louisette didn’t mind having water poured over her. Unfortunately her attitude these days seems to be, “Hurrah! A drink!” – an attitude which applies even when she accidentally crawls into deeper water at the pool.
And yes, if you’re wondering, we give her plenty of water to drink during the rest of the day! Ah well.
Beginner’s Guide to Steampunk Lit
Yes, it’s finally here! My idea of what a map of steampunk might look like. Harangue me on my choices and omissions below! Post it wherever you like, with a link back here. Caveat #1: This is only books (I tried to make it only novels, or at least novelists). Caveat #2: I’m only one person. This was a big job, and I chose to oversimplify rather than make it my life’s work. Also, there are some errors. And, as you can tell, I chose to finish the map this year rather than take longer and make it bigger, prettier, and funnier. And yes, I read and write mainly young adult, which is also obvious at a glance. Caveat #3: More is being written all the time. Tell us about your favourite steampunk in the comments! 
My reviews have all been moved to Comfy Chair, where I get paid for them:
“The Sky Village” by Monk & Nigel Ashland
“Clockwork Angel” by Cassandra Clare (1 of 3)
“Girl Genius” graphic novel series by Phil and Kaja Foglio: Incredibly manic hilarity. You can find them online here and get a thrice-weekly fix.
“The Difference Engine” by William Gibson and Bruce Sterling
“Worldshaker” etc by Richard Harland: Brilliant and satirically funny.
“Burton and Swinburne: The Curious Case of the Clockwork Man” by Mark Hodder
“The Affinity Bridge” by George Mann
China Mieville: Sheer imagination from a brilliant and complex mind.
“The Nomad of Time” by Michael Moorcock
“Dreadnought” by Cherie Priest (not the first book in the series)
“Blaze of Glory” etc by Michael Pryor: Funny and action-filled. I’ve read the whole six-book series, so clearly I liked it – but I often found the hero annoying.
“The Northern Lights/The Golden Compass” by Philip Pullman (1 of 3)
“The Subtle Knife” by Philip Pullman (2 of 3)
“The Amber Spyglass” by Philip Pullman (3 of 3)
“Ruby in the Smoke” by Philip Pullman (1 of 4 Sally Lockhart books)
“Larklight” by Philip Reeve (1 of 3, though they can stand alone quite well)
“Starcross” by Philip Reeve (2 of 3)
“Mothstorm” by Philip Reeve (3 of 3)
“Mortal Engines” by Philip Reeve: Very very dark (in marked contrast to his kids’ books). Also brilliant. And violent. The prequels aren’t as good.
“Ichabod hart and the Lighthouse Mystery” by James Roy
“The Invention of Hugo Cabret” by Brian Selznick: Yep, the book on which the movie “Hugo” was based. Pretty clocks and pretty pictures.
“Warship at the Bottom of the Sea” by Oshikawa Shunro: I haven’t read it, but apparently it’s fun and has pirates.
“The Hunchback Assignments” by Arthur Slade
Jeff Vandermeer: I only read one story (the first in “City of Saints and Madmen”) because, although it was wonderfully involving and the sensory detail was exquisite, it was far too violent and dark for me to read any more. I also thought the twist at the end was stupid.
“20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” by Jules Verne: Good, but too much technobabble for my liking.
“The Time Machine” by H. G. Wells: Still readable and interesting (or, if you prefer, horrifying) today.
“Leviathan” and “Behemoth” by Scott Westerfeld (1 and 2 of 3)
“Goliath” by Scott Westerfeld (3 of 3)
“The Machine Maid” by Diana Wynne-Jones: A true steampunk short story (which I wasn’t able to get my hands on).
Edited to add: My own novels are Aussie-written with an Australian setting; crossover fantasy novels. The first is HEART OF BRASS. It’s on Amazon etc and various Aussie bookshops. You can get the ISBN off that link to request it from your local bookshop with ease. Or you can order it directly from that link (it will be printed for you in Melbourne, the US or the UK, so most of you won’t have to pay ludicrous amounts of postage).
Felicity Banks 