Lightening up…

This past week I’ve been home with the family. My baby’s very first trip to meet the lot. Was really looking forward to this one.

Let’s just say though that it didn’t quite pan out… oh well!

From the day I got here I knew something was off. To be fair, its largely my fault. Having seen my friends with babies slightly older than mine, I should’ve have factored in the anxiety towards strangers at this stage and the need for familiar surroundings. Should have also considered the possible teething…. Oh well, again! I didn’t, and here we are. She’s been whiny and clingy and cries more than I’ve ever seen her cry. The sleep issues I’ve had here with her put all previous experiences to shame! When I came here, things weren’t perfect but they were starting to get better. A friend and I talked about it saying, really, how much worse can it get? Much, much apparently.

So finally after much discussion and drama I’ve decided to go back to Dubai a week early. Do I know if these issues will get sorted out there? No. But I’ll be in familiar surroundings with her and my level of comfort with the situation is sure to have some sort of impact on her. Because, I bet, at this point, my stress about the way she’s feeling is doing her no favours.

So post decision and supporting operations, I had convos with the various members of the family who were meant to come visit and see the baby from other parts of the country, so they could cancel their plans. One of them is my aunt. And oh, what a conversation! Firstly, she was the only one who focused on me and said this must all be quite shyte for me, and I must find a way to relax. And then she told me a story to help me do just that.

First a little background… I don’t know if its common practice, but in my family, when babies need help to sleep, we pat them on the butt. A firm but gentle and rhythmic tap that seems to put them straight off to la-la land in the early days, and sends them there with some persistence in the later ones. Such was the practice therefore that my aunt and uncle followed with their little son (he’s now an appropriately cool 20-something-year-old so we’ll keep him anonymous ;)).

So apparently, they would sometimes ask friends over at 745 or 8 pm, which was just post his bedtime. One night, my uncle was putting him to sleep, when he was about a year and a half old. And perhaps, things weren’t going as smoothly as they should. So, my uncle, seeing his exit from the dark room, with non-sleepy child, getting further and further might’ve patted a little more insistently. My cousin, lets call him B, having grown up in Hyderabad was fluent even at that age in the Hindi dialect specific to there. As the patting got firmer and firmer, he speaks up and says ‘Halllu maro mia, abhi sote B’ – which loosely translated is ‘Ease up on the whacking dude, I’m trying to sleep quickly’. Really! He said that. And talk about a story that lightens the mood. Here I am 24 hours later, in serious danger of peeing my pants from laughing!

The lighter side of parenting exists. We just need to have someone point them out from time to time! And today as I fly my cranky, unwell child back home, I will be shaking quietly in remembered amusement.

Massage might…

So yesterday I had my first real massage since baby came along. That’s six months. Really, an eternity in my case! We’ve talked about my slight spa junkiness haven’t we? Yes I thought so.

Actually, if I must be entirely truthful, I did have a ton of massages in the first month after the birth. But here’s why they don’t count… There was absolutely no element of decadence in them. They were completely therapeutic! Where’s the fun in that???

Now post-baby massages are quite a common part of most Asian cultures along with body binding to help your body recover from childbirth and regain its original shape (which, ahem, some of us are still questing for – we won’t say who ;)). Its usually done for four weeks straight. Bliss, I said, can’t wait. Twenty eight massages in a row? Bring it on!

I never thought that two days in I’d be counting down to see when I’d be done.

In my defense it was only a couple of weeks after my emergency C section and my body felt like it had been put through some sort of torture device (which I suppose it had!). And secondly, these massages were GRIM!

Look at it from the point of view of someone to whom a massage is usually in a beautiful spa. With fabulous scented oils. The masseuse (yes masseuse, I do live in Dubai you know) asks pretty much every 30 seconds if the pressure is alright and at the slightest wince, appropriate measures are taken to send you back to la-la land. There’s plinkety plonkity music in the background, and essential oils in the burner. Sigh!

Cut to my post partum massages. In my room, on a mat on the floor. With some of the smelliest oils in the free world. The only music was the clinking of the lady’s very loud jewelry. And there was only one option of pressure. Soharditmakesyoucry! To give it credit, it did sort out a lot of my niggling aches and pains. Though it did put me off massages for life! Well six months :P.

Yesterday brought all that screaming back. Then I remembered what it is I love about massages. I get to chill and almost forget I have a BlackBerry (yup us stay at home mums can’t afford to be out of touch can we ;). Actually it’s a hangover from my crappy corporate days, sad I know, but whatchoogonnado?). Someone’s only job is making sure I have everything I need for that one hour. I get to eat and drink weird and wonderful things right after. And I feel FABULOUS.

So I’m happily back in the world of massages, praise be! If anyone hears of the next big thing in the world of pampering, you know who to call.

The boxer…

With due apologies to Paul and Art, I’ve borrowed the phrase, and truly believe its mine ;). ‘The boxer’ in question is my daughter. Why do I call her that? Quite early in our relationship, when I didn’t know my ‘a*se from my elbow’ (to quote my eloquent dad) motherhood-wise, I read the term in a book. It was one that made the rounds, even in celeb circles, and claimed it was the miracle cure to the crying child because it knocks them straight off to sleep. It advocates swaddling a child, swaying and shushing it primarily. All pretty basic stuff really, but a revelation to the average mummy dum-dum like me. It further said that the system worked instantly but sometimes, certain kids, just when you think they’re out, will come back up for another round, to fight you like a staggering boxer. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what I have. A tough little boxer who sometimes goes for the full 10 rounds!

In the first month or so, I had no clue how to put her to bed. If my mum weren’t around to rescue the poor child, we’d have been in trouble. She’d need holding for HOURS to ensure she was properly asleep. And just when she was, and we’d put her down, she’d wake up! But that phase was quickly replaced. I figured out how to use Dr. Karp’s tricks quite nicely indeed. And was filled with a sense of self-congratulatory pleasure. This sh*t is simple I said, I am the adult here and she is the kid. I can get her to do what I want with a little persistence. Famous last words!

The boxer is now back! With all-singing, all-dancing performances. The past couple of months have been slightly short of a nightmare. She won’t fall asleep, she wakes up a gazillion times, crying, and sometimes decides that 3am is a brilliant time to squeal and play. Some call it teething, some call it the 4-month sleep regression. I call it ‘kill me now’!

As most people who know me know, I’m not a ‘natural mother’. This wasn’t a future I’d fondly envisioned as a little girl. It was something that one day seemed to us like the right thing to do, and we went with it. Of course no challenge is too big for me, and once I commit, I commit plus I do have superb help from the sig other and my sister. But that still doesn’t make any of this easy. There have been tears and outbursts of rage and even regret along the way (which my friends have told me everyone of them has gone through atleast once if not once everyday; so I figure its normal, unless we’re all a bunch of psychos?)

So, I drag myself out of bed every so often these days and go back in for another round with the boxer. Sometimes I look at her and wonder, how come she isn’t as tired as I am?? But she seems just fine! Like all pros, with but one objective, to destroy the opponent ;).

People have told me everything from ‘this is a phase, give her what she wants’ to ‘let her cry it out’ and everything in between. I just need to figure out what I believe will work.

So today, as my little boxer turns 6 months, all I can say is that of the many, many things that keep me sane, she is the best (oh with bo*ze a close second)! I might not know all the answers, but I know that she loves me with all her little heart, and I love her, and we WILL figure this out :).

Nicely done…

‘Nice’ isn’t typically a word you use in the Dubai context. Its – how do I put it mildly – a ‘don’t care a great deal’ type city. Not quite the knock you over and keep walking/steal your bag/watch as someone dies kind. No, definitely not that menacing. But an edge, it definitely has. (Ooo how Yoda is that sentence!?)

So, for the most part, people don’t expect a lot by the way of heart-warming moments. Firstly, its an expat-heavy city. Relationships formed here, as we Dubaians (yes that’s the official term) know, tend to be with people from other parts of the world or your own part (depending on degree of homesickness and appetite for change) rather than with people here. With no real attachments therefore, and the relatively short stays, there is often an insane amount of Dubai-bashing. Sometimes justified; but frequently just something to roll your eyes at, lets be honest.

Some days I absolutely hate my life here. Whine constantly about it. Rude. Racist. Expensive. Bureaucratic. Blah. Blah. Blah. As an expat, I, like many, have romanticized home from afar and conveniently forgotten the niggling little things (and big fat things that there’s no getting around really) that bothered the heck out of me when I was there. And the longer we stay here, the rosier the other side looks right ;)?

Well there’s some things that have happened to me recently that have managed to get even my half-closed-in-cynicism eyes open, and a bit teary.

The world attacks forums every so often. With accusations of blurring the line between fact and opinion. Be that as it may, the power of the many can truly bring a problem down to its knees. And here we have our very own - Expatwoman. They’ve come to my rescue, and how! More than once. And I’m not talking information at short notice and opinions that may help consolidate a decision alone (which BTW appeals hugely to my Marketing and Communication ‘lets do some research and decide’ side ;)).

Let me explain. A few months ago, when I discovered my baby had reflux, I was devastated. I’d found a lovely doctor yes, but it would take time to heal. In the meanwhile there was only one med that would help. He gave me a few samples of it and I saw its power instantly. My grunting, squirming in pain baby got the odd hour of mildly disturbed rest. The problem? That particular ‘magic pill’ wasn’t stocked in Dubai. Of course I bought it online but the order would be a couple of weeks!! So I went on the forum and appealed. To anyone with info on where to get some for the interim. I got a flood of responses! People offering to not only share what they had with me, FOR FREE, but also bringing it to me since they understood new mums and their lives. That was my first experience of random acts of kindness in a lonnnnng time! And it continues… yesterday, I got a travel cot from lovely lady who’d done with hers and just GAVE it to me.

Here’s a shout out to the fab expatwomen!! You've inspired me to ‘pay it forward’. I’ve given people things that while perfectly usable would normally have just sat in storage somewhere. The feeling of giving is almost as good as the feeling of receiving :).  A channel that helps you when you need it, AND makes you a better person? I’m sold! Its win:win isn’t it?? Thank you.

So… Dubai you ask? Hmmm lets see – Have a support system, both visible and invisible, that can’t be beat. Fell in love with my husband here. Made what I believe will be some of the best friends of my life. And when I look out my bedroom window, I can see the tallest building in the world! What’s not to like?