I’m going to tell you, in the written non verbal form, about my weekend.

Would you believe a bunch of entrepreneurs attending a conference could have as much fun and silliness as this:

This was the Renegade Rockstar Roadshow.  The party was ROCK theme.  I went goth.  For those who’ve known be me a while, would know I went to great lengths to compile my costume.  That’s right, I looked in my wardrobe and pulled out something.

After making some fantastic new network connections, I’ve also been working on Hand Print Massage.  I’ve also gained a new nickname.  The Mummyseuss.  Something to do with mummies and masseuse but I like Dr Seuss (see previous post) so it seemed to fit.

After the buzz and enthusiasm of the conference, I’ve come home to realise, it’s Little Miss’s 3rd Birthday.  Yay. 

Guess what she got?

Fun times ahead.

Talk again soon.

Em

AKA The Mummyseuss.

I have a great belief in fate.  I believe you are meant to meet the people need to meet at exactly the right moments.  Why? I hear you ask.

Today, Little Miss and I, went to costco.  I usually try to avoid the place as I get a bit overwhelmed and confused.  Anyway, as I was trying to find a  car park, I passed another car with the number plate “doula”.  I decided I would head over to this car and leave a note under the wipers with my card as for the last couple of weeks I’ve been on the look out for doulas*.  (No I’m not pregnant.  My clients are.)  By the time I got a park, got little miss out and walked over to the doula car, the driver was loading up her shopping.  EVEN BETTER!  I introduced myself and asked her about her business and her details.  I briefly told her why I needed doula services and she told me she was one of the original doulas in Australia and her network was fairly vast.  Yay.

After we’d left and headed to the gigantic lift with the jumbo sized trolley, we found a pregnant mummy in the lift with us.  I asked when she was due and how her back was given she also had a toddler.  Painful.  When I gave her my card, it turns out she lives in the next suburb.  See, right person, right time.

So, into the massive warehouse we went.  Little Miss wanted everything and became very tired and grumpy.  We eventually left with the standard bulk load of loo paper and a few other essentials and Little Miss fell asleep on the way home.

Now to make myself a cuppa and eat one of the biscuits I purchased.

*What’s a doula?  A doula is a non-medical birth attendant who supports the mother through labour and new motherhood.

My name is Emma and I’m a stationery addict.  I can’t help myself.  Coloured pens, notebooks, folders, binders, you name it, I love it!

This morning I went to a business catch up, well, really a cuppa with a friend, where she discovered my obsession with stationery. 

We started by going to kiki.K which is so nice and organised (something I aspire to but not very at the moment) then we found out way to Typo which is more on the quirky side.  Last week I found myself at smiggle which is good for the funky coloured stuff.  Sometimes you will even find me in Officeworks, where Little Miss can have a little miss sized shopping trolley I fill up with notebooks, pens, clips and, well, anything else that catches my eyes.

So I was fairly good today.  I only got two things at Kiki.k.  An A3 display folder and another shopping basket.  The display folder is for all my mad ideas.  The basket is for my paper recycling.  The first basket has been absconded by Little Miss.

There was a little bit of an ulterior motive for us visiting these places.  We were, in a sense, product researching.  Looking for physical items that matched our ideas.  Some even had what we thought up but we knew we could do better or at least make them prettier.  This we managed with a toddler and Little Miss in tow.  Did it stop me falling in love with a red diary or wanting to buy the entire store, no. 

Ah well, next time, maybe?

Today I’m going to tell you about my day and my stupid printer.

Today actually started three weeks ago.  I know, I’m sounding silly but it did.  I booked a dentist appointment.  I was very lucky to get an appointment so soon.  I was thrilled, as much as you can be about getting a dental appointment.  I even manage to figure out what to do with Little Miss whilst at the appointment and I thought all was well.  Then Murphy stuck his bib in.

Then last week, my landlady calls to tell me the plumber will be coming to fix the dishwasher.  Today.  Between 12 and 5pm.  My dentist appointment was at 1pm.  ARGH!!!!!!  Ok, it’s plan b time.  So I call a friend to come and look after Little Miss and let the plumber in while I’m at the dentist.  She was able to help, YAY!, and I relaxed.  Do you think Murphy would let me?  NO.

Sunday night I receive and email from a new client.  Yay!  The only time she’s available is Today.  At 10am.  So I get on the phone again and ask, no, beg my friend to come extra early today.  She agreed, but only if I paid her in massages and chocky teddy biscuits.  I agree to these terms. 

This morning.  Murphy got up before me.  Little Miss woke up extra early, just when I was going to have a shower.  Sort her out with a drink and breakfast and move onto more imp0rtant things, like printing my client intake form.  Murphy is now laughing at me.

My printer decided now would be the right time to run out of black ink.  It’s the type of printer that doesn’t work if a colour has run out.  Do I have time to get another cartridge?  No!  Mild panic, then realise there’s another printer in the house in Hubby’s office.  So head up to hubby’s office and attempt to print with his computer.  Nope, didn’t work.  Turns out it’s not plugged into anything.  So I decide it would be quicker to just take the printer to my computer.  Good in theory.  Sadly, Murphy was rolling on the floor laughing at me.

Whilst friend arrives to care for Little Miss, I’m cursing my computer, the printer and Murphy with just enough time to get ready for my client.    Client arrives early, still no intake forms.  Manage to convince ink less printer to print, just.  Little Miss and friend head off to the park.  I relax.  Client is wonderful.  Little Miss and friend return, complete with wet pants from sliding down the wet slide.  I’m finishing with my client when I realised I couldn’t print her invoice.  Ready to throw printers into the path of a passing truck.  Thankfully, client agrees to have invoice emailed to her.  Yay. 

Client departs, lunch is made, pants are changed and I head off to the dentist.  I drive in, planning to park in the multi story car park next door to the dentist.  Traffic was good but Murphy had other ideas.  I get there to find my car is too tall and won’t fit.  Panic.  I have ten minutes to get to the dentist.  After a big trip round the block I find a spot and a short cut through a lane to the dentist.  Yay.

Dentist gave me good news in a way and sends me home with a follow appointment.

Arrive home to find Little Miss asleep on the couch and my friend stuck underneath her.  Once she was extracted, we then attempt to convince big printer to talk to my computer.  Not working.  Tried all the internet downloads and installations.  No go.

Plumber arrives just after friend heads home and fixes the dishwasher.  Yay.  Manages to spill manky water all over the floor.  Grrr.  

Printer still not working.

Eventually, Hubby, who’s in IT support and is the person people call to fix this kind of thing, gets home.  He tries to install the printer.  No go.  Three hours later, still not working.  Murphy was still lurking.

So, I’m here now, without a working printer or cartridge.

Well, tomorrow’s another day.  Let’s see what happens then.

As we went through the suggestions and likes and hates, I started thinking about how music does affect you.  Some of the music we were listening to raised my blood pressure as I remembered being a stressed and nervous oboist about to sit exams or made me smile as I remembered something I was doing when I’d heard that song. 

So after much listening, we found a diverse range  of music with featuring songs from favourite movies, songs from favourite music artists and even something randomly heard late one night on the radio.  Granted, it’s not to every one’s taste and it’s no where near traditional, but it’s special and has meaning to both of them.  It’s they’re way of sharing what’s special to them.

What started out as a normal pregnancy massage revealed a great dis-service to women.

A first time mother, new to the area, going to a local hospital to have her baby.  She’s living a great distance from her family, so her support network is limited.  During her pre-natal classes, she became even more distressed.  She has just been told she will be discharged from the hospital 3 hours after she gives birth – 5 at the most.  She tells me she’s concerned about the car ride home and not really knowing what to do.  She is also concerned she will be alone with only her husband to help her in the early days.  What’s interesting about this story, is she’s not the first to tell me this. It’s also interesting she’s not scared of labour or the pain.  She’s worried about where she’s having the baby.

When a post natal mother told me of her birth and post birth experience, I was saddened.  She’d had a prolonged labour, her baby was in posterior position, she’d been induced and eventually, due to exhaustion and extreme pain, her baby was born by cesarean section.  48 hours later, after much confusion, she was discharged.  She was struggling with breastfeeding, her incision wound was becoming infected and was feeling miserable.  3 days after being discharged, she gave up breastfeeding.   As she had moved to the area not long before her baby was born, she came home to little family support and no social connections.

My story you’ve heard, but it’s not unlike these two.  I spent my entire pregnancy freaking out.  Labour was the least of my worries.  I live away from my family, having moved to the city from the country.  I didn’t really know my neighbours.  My in-laws and friends all worked.  In those early days, I had no idea what I was doing, nor who I could turn to for help.  I was very lucky in some ways.  When my daughter was 6 weeks old, I fell to pieces.  My parents were 4 hours away.  My husband was at work and without a car.  My parents in-law were at work and my brother in law didn’t have a car or license.  The earliest any of these people could have got to me was an hour.  All my friends were at work except one.  She had recently resigned her job in preparation to return to study, and was house sitting around the corner from me.  She took my call and was able to help me.  She came to my aid without judgement or expectations.  She held my daughter while I ate some lunch.  She talked to me about stuff.  She brought me back from the brink.  To this day, I believe she saved both my daughters and my life.  I was lucky.

Why am I telling you these stories?  Because I believe pregnant women and new mums are being treated badly.  Not just by the hospitals but in general.  Women are returning home (and rapidly) with new babies, without support.  More and more, I finding my clients telling me similar stories of having little or no support in the early weeks post birth.  They are scared and don’t have social and family reassurance that previous generations had.  Many are the first amongst their friends and family to have children and don’t have experience with babies or what to expect when pregnant.    Sometimes all they need is someone to explain what’s happened or happening.  A chat with the local breastfeeding association informed me the area I work and live in has the lowest breastfeeding rates in Melbourne.  I always thought is was because of cultural and family influences or lack of support once they get home.  Perhaps not.  Maybe it’s because the new mums and bubs aren’t getting the help they need in the beginning.  Maybe the incidence of post natal depression would be lower if there were support programs in place. 

I’m looking for answers and suggestions.  Please leave a comment as to where you found help and support.  Maybe we can help someone without even knowing them.

My clients are my inspiration.  The more I talk to and see them, the more ideas and inspiration I have. 

Lately there has been a common theme weaving through my clients and it’s one I can’t ignore.  It’s the lack of community and support new mums experience.  It could be something as simple as wanting people around with similar backgrounds to share familiar experiences to needing someone to listen without judgement whilst they tell their birth story.  Sometimes we just need to hear we are doing the right thing.  Maybe they just need a bit of TLC and a hug.

There also seems to be much misinformation and myth floating around new motherhood too.  The worst part is sometimes is completely contradicts itself.  This is really bad when you’ve had no sleep and feeling desperate.

So I’m doing a bit more research and need your help.  What were your greatest needs after having your baby?

Em.

Apart from cooking dinner tonight, I’ve been busy again with lots of adventures along the way.

Thursday last week was challenging.  I was booked in for an inner city client visit which in itself is a bit tricky.  Not only did I have to pack the gear and drive in, but I also had to negotiate parking.  I have a big truck of a four-wheel drive and it needs at least 2.1metres clearance to get in.  I know this because I have got it stuck.  All the parking around my clients apartment building only had 2 metre clearance.  GAH!  In the end I went to the one car park I knew my car would fit in, a block and a half away from where I needed to be.  It’s times like these I’m very glad I have a trolley for my table.  Once I arrived at the apartment building, I discovered the next major challenge.  Stairs.  Up I lugged my table to the ancient elevator only to be greeted when I reached the right floor, more steps, this time only two.  The massage client was a beautiful new mum and was very helpful in moving furniture around so we could fit my table into her space.  Thankfully, the massage went well and the client told me the easier, quicker, less staired way to get out of the building.

Friday was Mum’s Night Out.  My mother came down from the country to attend with me.  The night was fun, full of dancing and I was massaging for most of it.  I had my massage chair and was going almost non stop the whole night.  I did managed to get a break and sample the wonderful cupcakes from cupcakes of Kensington and eat a chocolate shot glass.  At the end of the night, we spent about 45 minutes waiting for the taxi we’d booked to show up.  It didn’t, so we ended up waving one down.  The cab driver looked a little suspiciously at my massage chair bag and asked if it was a dead body.  For the first time ever, I didn’t need to give instructions to the driver how to get to my house.  Apparently he lives in the next street over.  Good to know.

Saturday morning, I packed up the car again with the massage chair, my mum and the usual stuff for a market.  We headed out to Mulgrave to a market, only to discover I wasn’t feeling quite right (partially because of the very late night) so we ended up heading back home.  This seemed like a good idea until we went to Bunnings to buy a plant for my in-laws anniversary.  As we were leaving, my mum slipped on something on the floor and injured her wrist quite badly.  After the very lovely first aider John had provided us with an icepack and a bandage, off to emergency at the local hospital where we stayed for nearly 4 hours.  X Rays were taken, no bones were broken apparently and in the end I re-strapped mum’s wrist and we left without seeing the doctor.  I’m still trying to figure out why people seem to think I’m a nurse.  Happens every time I walk into hospitals.

Sunday my mum returned home and the adventures of Telstra again.  Hubby needed a new mobile phone, which meant waiting on hold for the usual approvals from the call centre.  He now has a shiny new phone which he is currently wrestling with.

Today, I cleaned and cooked dinner.  No signs of digestive distress so far.

Until next time.

Em.

It’s no secret that I have hospitalised my family with my cooking (no not kidding), but occasionally I cook dinner and it doesn’t poison us.  Usually it’s when I cook something I can’t ever mess up.  So here’s my fail safe secret recipe for braised lamb shanks.

Braised Lamb Shanks.

Ingredients:

Lamb shanks (1 per person)

Plain or corn flour ( 1/3cup)

2 sticks of celery

2 carrots

1 onion

2 chicken stock cubes

A couple of springs of fresh rosemary

2 potatoes

1 sweet potato

A couple of sprigs of fresh lemon thyme

spray oil

What to do:

Spray a light coating of oil on a baking dish.  Chop the celery, onion, carrot into small pieces.  Cube the potato and sweet potato.  Cover the base of the baking dish with the vegetables and herbs.

Place the flour and crumbed up stock cubes in a freezer bag.  Toss each shank in this mix until coated.  Place shanks on top of the vegetables in the baking dish and sprinkle the remaining flour mix over the top.

Pour in a small amount of water into the dish.  Place in a hot oven uncovered for around 4 hours, until the vegetables have broken down and the shanks are very tender.  Occasional basting and turning of the shanks is recommended.

Serve with mashed potato and peas.

Enjoy.

Em.

Between footy (all three teams won but another batch of crap injuries) and Mother’s Day, I’ve been run off my feet.

My parents visited this weekend which is nice.  Shame I was working the whole time.  Still they got to spend some quality time with Little Miss.

I had a wonderful client yesterday who was telling me about her customs, traditions and rituals.  I love this sort of information.  Not surprisingly, much of it revolved around food and family.

So today is a rest day for my hands and I’m back working again tomorrow.

Mum’s Night Out is on Friday night and tickets are still available.  Would really love to see you there.  I’ll be massaging away.

Em.