Thursday, 11 July 2013


Dear Janek,

one thing is for sure: this world is crazy and so is the time. It goes way too fast, and you’re three months old today, and we’re going to blink twice and you will be one year old and running around. Something tells me you will be running quite fast…
I realise that I want to stop every day: I want you to stay as you are every day, please, stop getting bigger and bigger. I love everything about you, your smile, your eyes so bright and full of wisdom, your chubby legs, your big feet with catchy fingers, your hands with nails I have big trouble to cut, your punk hair, and your smell. I would write about your bum, too, but I don’t want to embarrass you just yet, dude.
This was a crazy month, half brilliant and half very hard, as these months go by. You rolled on your back and looked straight into my eyes surprised, amazed, asking. I smiled and clapped and congratulated you and gave you one of those big wet kisses on your cheek that hopefully you won’t hate too much in a couple of years. You’re so clever and so strong.
Your father often says he feels like you’re reading him- siting in your pilot chair, looking straight into his face, your eyes following his every move, slowly, seriously. After a while you smile a little bit, and you look away.
You start to laugh more, too.  Sometimes you’re confusing it with crying, it’s a joy to watch.
You’re a joy, happiness in a small human shaped form.
If there is one thing I want to teach you and assure you of and give you to grow with (and there’s milliards of those things, little fella, milliards and then some) - it is to give you a realisation deep inside of  you, that no matter what you do and how you do it- you are enough. Enough as you are, every day. The truth is- majority of our adults’ problems comes from constantly thinking we’re not enough.  Not enough pretty, smart, rich, famous, sexy, and confident.  I need to learn to think of myself as enough, so you don’t think I teach you some bollocks. This is the hardest part.
But for now, and for each new day in your life, know this: you are enough as you are, right now. Everything else you decide to do or become is just a bonus.

Love you so much,

ps. You know, sometimes I look on you and I still don't believe that you are mine, that you have grown inside me, that I gave a birth to you and still, my body makes yours grow each day.  Today I sang you when you couldn't fall asleep and you immediately calmed down. I was susprised and amazed by this but, shouldn't I know better? Shouldn't I know already I'm enough and we're best pals for life? Sleep tight.

Thursday, 4 July 2013


Hello and welcome from my yoga mat in the middle of the kitchen floor. Why yes, I'm getting sweaty and lean and stretchy every day now( or at least I hope I'm getting anything more than sweaty). My goal is to reach 21 days in a row, as apparently this is a number of days you need to do something in order to make it your habit. Whoever said that never changed a single nappy in his life.

Anyways. Today's post is inspired by two things. First of them happened to me and the second I've read after the first one happened. 

I took Janek to IKEA today- I needed to buy him some bumper pads as he stuck his chunky leg between bars and tried to move it and couldn't and moved it in a wrong angle and SCREAMED like I've never heard a human screaming before and my muscles shaked for nest half an hour I was so scared and he obviously forgot it all next minute. I also wanted to buy some shadow box frame to finally make the birthing day keepsake. Everything went fine, kiddo woke up in the middle of kitchens and looked around in wonder- so many lights, so many lights, sooo many lights, and he smiled, because I think lights on ceilings is his idea of heaven for the time being. And I picked up what I needed and I payed for it and he started to get a little cranky and I thought I'd feed him before we go home. Nursing room in IKEA is definetely the best I've been in so far and even smelled amazingly, so I put my tit out into Janek's mouth happily and he ate, ate, ate and made friendship with ladybird lamps on the wall and he finished eating and he burped. It was getting kinda hot in there, so I figured we'll better go out. And I tried to put kiddo into his pram. Forfuckinget it. This boy is not the biggest fan of prams in general, but this time he screamed almost as hardly as when he got his leg between the bars. Fuck, fuck, I took him out, checked if everything is ok, because it was unnatural for him cryio-scream. Everything seemed fine except he was getting louder and LOUDER. And he screamed like this for next 60 minutes and I'm not even joking. I tried everything, I changed his (clean) nappy, I failed to put the next one on because he would wriggle so much. Forget about it, there was not a single thing that would calm him down and I talked to him sweetly and I sang and I hugged and I tried to burp him and I made an aeroplane and I tried to put him back to pram and I took his trousers off and I sang some more and I kept on trying for 60 horrible minutes and I heard people talking behind the doors and I was surprised they don't call anyone to check on me, because it sure sounded like a baby is being murdered inside. Seriously. So I had no idea what to do and I started to cry, and we cried like this, until he stopped. I lost a couple of pounds worth of sweat, and tears. I've put him into pram and he didn't like it but after this marathon of crying he got kinda tired, so he gave up. And we walked off, we walked out from IKEA and into the streets and into the park on the way home and he slept and I was dreaming of smoking a fag, eating a fag, having a shot of vodka, anything. I felt brainwashed and drunk at the same time. We arrived home, I left him in pram and ate a bit of yesterdays curry, drank a cup of tea and when he woke up we were friend again. Kinda. 

Now you have to understand, that Janek is a GREAT AND LOVELY baby, he doesn't do crying and shouting. He cries, obviously, but it's 5 minutes a top, nothing hard, nothing I cannot deal with. I bow low to all of the parents who's children cry constantly or very often. I don't know how you do it, I think I would just DIE.

So then I had a 7 minutes nap on the yoga mat I'm currently sat on and I woke up feeling hangovered with the worst, couple of days drinking behind, hangover, and I'm sober for almost a year now. It felt bad. Zs came back from work and he took Janek into his hands and Janek LOOKED ON ME LIKE HE HATES ME. And I'm not joking, he looked on me like I WOULD DO SOMETHING HORRIBLE TO HIM. Obviously, I cried into wok full of onion( good excuse there, hey).

So this is a first thing. It was kinda long, right? Second thing is this blog post. The most important thing I've read about being a parent since ever. I will tell every person that is about to become a parent to read it. Really.

It's all about the fact, that parenthood is fucking hard and not funny 51% of the time. And that you're being told by everyone to enjoy EVERY MINUTE. Which is a load of bullshit. 

Because I've never felt as low, guilty, stressed, worried, humiliated, angry, weak as I've felt today in the IKEA's nursing room. And there is no way in the world I could possibly enjoy it. And while people and books and magazines will tell me to ENJOY EVERY MINUTE, I will feel more guilty and more anxious and more crap with every next situation like this. And when your kid looks on you like a stranger or enemy- well- that's just sweet, isn't it?

So screw it all. Be able to say YOU FUCKIN HATE ALL THIS everytime you hate it. It will free you. It will make you feel better. I realised today that this is the reason for majority of my sadnesses in last three months- that at times it is bloody hard and I don't want to carry on- and I'm told to be happy and cheerful- all the time. And I'm pretty sure there is not a single parent in the world who could say he enjoys it 100%.

And, obviously, most importantly, amazingly, awesomely- every storm has its end. And sunshine comes out and small birds start to sing and stars start to shine and your baby and you are in love. Really, don't get me wrong- I LOVE, love, love my son so much, I would do everything for him to be happy and sun-shiny forever. But I'm not able to do it. And it's much better to have a good cry and swear a lot about it all and appreciate the sun after the storm much more, cherish it like a million dollar lottery ticket( well that's just sad, isn't it) than to pretend it's all good and never lose your temper and slowly slowly slowly kill yourself every damn day. Until you explode. One way or another. It's better for everyone.