Being this Yager Baby

Being this Yager Baby is not so bad.

I wanted to try to tell you about the two people who made this Yager Baby. I am going to try my very hardest to separate the parent from the person, and describe them as the people they are.

This is going to be hard.

M and my little sister

Think I’ll start with M. She’s lots of fun, she’s way more hippy than I have ever been borderline hobo. She has a NEED to be loved and wanted. She’s young of heart and mind and dress sense. She’s a good friend. She’s not maternal at all. I think she is liking the fact that her offspring are becoming adults themselves, she can relate so much better now.  A phone call once a fortnight is all that is needed to keep her happy with me. She always listens but isn’t always on the same page. She likes her ‘drink’ and everyone knows it. I think she knows it too, admits it and carries on with it. She once said ‘I feel 18 again.’ Again? I don’t think she ever stopped feeling like that until she was trapped in a love-less marriage with 3 boring, demanding children.

She works hard, parties hard.

I don’t like much of her actions, I do like her carefree attitude.

For a long time I thought she was irresponsible, immature and had no self-respect. But then no-ones perfect. She’s my M and even though I have never felt like I HAD a mother, I know where I came from, I’m always welcome back and I respect the person she has CHOSEN to be.

She has taught me important things like

‘it doesn’t matter what people think of you.’

‘If its a lie then you shouldn’t be concerned with what people say.’

‘If you haven’t got anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.’

And I think most importantly, through her dependency, her distance and lack of ‘street smarts’ I’ve learned to be VERY independent.

Thank you M.

Next onto D. This is MUCH harder.

Basically my only photo of D and notice it is a photo OF a photo.

I can say lifestyle-wise I resemble my mother, not to the point of ghetto which her house is starting to look like but we live with a sense of  ‘freedom’.

Brain capacity, I’m just like him.

I don’t think I like it much.

You know I’m sitting here wondering how to describe a man who I have spent 20 minutes with in the last 4 years. Its difficult. I used to admire him. For his ‘business’ smarts for his independency, for his lack of ‘ties’ that’s a kind of freedom isn’t it? He’s not free at all. Guilt is eating him alive. I’ve grown and learnt that as adults we have choices. We CHOOSE the person we are, no matter our upbringing or environment. We make the decision to be the kind of person we want to be. He still has not decided who he wants to be.

I am hoping one day he decides to be a family man. I hope one day he decides to be a grandfather.

At the moment he is still a ‘career’ man. He’s providing for our future, which is admirable.

He just doesn’t comprehend that we have been living our future comfortably for quite some time without anything he has provided. And he doesn’t comprehend that we would be much happier with a father, a grandfather than a fat bank account.

But I’m a grown up now, and I know that this has now turned into an excuse. He doesn’t know his Yager babies anymore. He can’t stick a lollypop in our mouth and we’ll smile unconditionally.

He’s scared.

And guilty.

Its ok.

I get it.

He’s taught me things too.

‘crying doesn’t make the pain go away.’

‘Your children owe you nothing, you owe your children everything.’ 

‘family is always the most important thing.’

I learnt ‘practice what you preach’ somewhere but now I’m being a brat.

He did also give me an awesome imagination with his made up stories he’d tell.

 

I have such simple memories from being a Yager Baby that had nothing to do with M drinking or D never being there trying to make us money; like making a cake with M one day and once I added the water it turned brilliant purple! I didn’t know it was meant to do that, so when she -jokingly- accused me of putting something in it, I cried and cried thinking I’d ruined it!  A scary story about a one tusked wild pig my D told us while camping one time which I still sometimes get creeped out about.

 Hmm… I just hope that I have made the decision to be the kind of person my Yager babies will like.

Maybe not appreciate, understand, respect but I would settle for like.

My serendipities 2

So I was on my own with my babies, I loved it and at the ripe old age of 24 I decided that I had had enough of men. I was prepared and content to raise my daughters until they had their own lives, all grown up and able to look after themselves. Then, just maybe I would try to meet someone for me. I think they are called a ‘companion’ by that stage.

Only it didn’t happen like that.

Nothing ever really goes to plan.

My very best friend finally convinced me to have a night out with her, I hadn’t been out on the town for around 2 years at that stage, so I started to get excited.

She gave me the ‘what if you meet someone’ chat I highly doubted that I would considering my young age,  and my three daughters. But I did give her a very specific, unrealistic list of the qualities this man must have if I were to meet one at all. Whilst laughing and sadly knowing I would NEVER find this man I told her.  (After settling with certain traits and qualities in other men, I was going to be picky!)

I wanted a man who-

Was hot! (why not? I was dreaming)

He had to drive a Ute, but not be macho about it. (I’d had enough of pristine sedans)

He had to have a physical job.

He HAD to like kids.

Be a good family man.

Funny, but shy and not at all up himself.

Be VERY good in bed. (That was really important!)

He’d have to enjoy spending time with my family. (This sometimes is even difficult for me to do)

He had to like lollies.

He had to dislike scary movies.

He had to be older than me.

He had to be taller than me.

He had to have blue eyes.

He had to love pancakes.

The night we went out I met Glen.

I don’t think I need to tell you but he checked everything on my list. He was genuine and you could just see it, he’d make a corny joke and even though it was not funny I couldn’t help but laugh. He was adorable.

I loved him the moment I met him. He is my soul mate (not that I had ever been into that.) I’m the kind of person that thinks people meet, they like or dislike each other, they work or they don’t work, that’s really it. A companionship or two people moving in the same general direction. But now I know differently.

I move in Glen’s direction and he moves in mine. We are the one person.

Finally I was in love.

And guess what? He fell in love too. With me. With my girls.

In the beginning it was a little tough. I refused to let him meet my girls so early on, I wanted to get to know him before I took that step, though I was looking forward to the meeting because I knew he was the one for me.

 He was me, only with a penis!

Glen would turn up to my house at 8pm after my girls had all been put to bed and were sound asleep. We’d sit up late talking, watching telly and eating very late dinners together. Technically Glen did meet Violet. She was only 3 months old and still sleeping in a cot in my room, the first time I introduced them while she was sleeping he just stared at her, like a father does with his own new-born. He looked at me smiling. We’d lay in bed and he’d ask me if we should check on her if we hadn’t heard her for a while, he also wanted us to check on her if she DID make a sound.

At 5am we’d get up and have a cup of tea and chat before I made him leave. But one morning we were sitting chatting quietly when a small voice was heard from the kitchen. It was Bella. ‘Mum who’s that?’ she asked with a smirk. I told her that it was my friend Glen and introduced them. So that was that. It was out.

We decided to all spend the day together, we went to the park and beach and had lunch together.

It was such a great day the girls loved Glen instantly and I was amazed at how natural it all came to Glen he was a born parent too, just like me. He wasn’t afraid or scared and treated them all like equals. Glen practically moved into our house that day.

He proposed at 2am 3 weeks later.

I said yes.

We were to be married in October, but 3 months later I was on the verge of panic attack again.

I was pregnant!

It had happened the night of our farewell party a couple of weeks before we moved interstate for work.

So we didn’t get married that October.

 

 

So this is Molly my meant to be baby. Not that my other girls were not ‘meant to be’ but Bella, Sophie, and Violet were all born with their cords choking them, none of them breathing. Molly had no such problems which I had worried about. I think I read too much into everything -I know I do- But her birth was smooth and easy and she had such an easy start to life. She was meant to be.

So here we were a mis-matched yet happy little family. We are all certainly individuals but we all fit and all belong, we are not whole if one of us were not here.

This is not the end.

We decided on one more baby.

Partly because I have a phobia of equal numbers but mostly because we had some room, in our home, and in our hearts. We had just one more spot to fill and this May/June it will be filled.

We will be having baby number 5 in May/June (our Ultrasound Monday will let us know for sure)and getting married too.

We’ll be complete.

We were all made for this one family. I wouldn’t change it, I couldn’t change it. It was meant to be.

I have never been happier, my girls have never been happier.

I do now believe that everything happens for a reason and I know that everyone will eventually come to a point like I have and realise all the little fortunate accidents that have brought them to this one spectacular moment when they can say ‘my life has begun.’

Not only am I now on the right path, I’m running along it will a smile and complete contentment.

My serendipities.

Bella, Sophie and Violet.

 

I began my motherhood very young. 16 as a matter of fact. I gave birth to Bella 12 days shy of my 17th birthday. She was my angel baby. She saved me. Simple as that and I don’t feel the need to go into detail.

I was very lucky to be the ‘mum’ type. Personally I never thought about it until a friend I hadn’t seen or spoken to since school called me out of the blue after a couple of years. She’d found out she was pregnant with her first. After a good catch up chat I asked why she’d decided to call me and she said because I had always wanted kids.

I just didn’t remember it that way.

I was a young mum.

I was a good mum.

Still am.

I was on my own with Bella, and honestly I didn’t find it that hard. Perhaps because I was so young I didn’t have the ‘adult’ worries yet of not having the best of everything, I don’t think I had a car until she was at least 12 months old. I just didn’t care about anything except my baby. It was just Bella and myself versus the world. Catching a bus was an adventure, walking to the beach was fun.

People asking how old I was, was not fun. I was ashamed, looking back I don’t know why, I know mothers in their 30’s who have never been half the mother I have been. I was born to it.

So Bella was my angel baby.

Sophie was my sunshine baby. Bella was 2 and a half years old when I met Sophie’s dad. We began talking about marriage and children after a couple of years. I was more excited by the idea of a new baby. Bella being 5 I was worried about how she would bond, I hoped the gap wasn’t too big.  After spending almost a year telling family and friends we would begin trying for a baby, planning and warming up to the idea I was already in love with my baby before she was even conceived. The moment I found out I was pregnant was bitter-sweet. I was over the moon and so happy to be having the baby I now desperately wanted but at the same time, I noticed my partner was not happy at all. I began to realise all his talk was just that talk. He had no real plans to actually have a baby. Probably not even to marry me. But I continued on with the pregnancy with a big smile on my face, my relationship was falling apart but I did not care.

By the time I had Sophie we had decided to go our separate ways, we did however try to keep things together. I was miserable relationship-wise, mothering-wise I was so happy.

Sophie was 6 months old when I was human. I fell pregnant to him again. With Violet my old soul. The thought never occurred to me. It was a one-off and afterwards we’d had the whole d&m conversation about how it wouldn’t change things we were still separating and that this should never happen again. 8 weeks later I just about had a panic attack when I found out I was pregnant with my 3rd baby. I didn’t tell anyone besides my best friend for 5 weeks. When I told my partner he seemed to be relieved. We once again decided to give our relationship a go. And once again it was a big failure. I gave birth to Violet on a Tuesday, I came home on the Wednesday and he moved out on the thursday.

It was the happiest yet most exhausted I had ever been.

Since then his involvement has depressingly dwindled down to a sms once every 6 months.

So that was how I ended up with Bella my angel baby; she saved me. Sophie my sunshine baby; Her smile made me glow from the inside out. And Violet my old soul; looking into her eyes you just know she’s been here before.

Is it lucky?

Sitting here watching my baby laying on the floor tapping her little glittery shoe on the floor boards whilst sucking down her very first strawberry milk, I’m thinking that I am pretty lucky.

Its random times like these that make me think about how my life was and how it is, the things that got me here and the things that make me appreciate what I have.

Sitting in the passenger seat while my ‘almost’ husband drives and our four girls are happily checking out the passing scenery, I always somehow end up with a lazy smile and a completely contented feeling growing from the inside. I don’t know why this is one of those occasions of pure happiness, but it is. And really its only a small moment in time when we all suddenly fall into our own heads. Theres just this small window in time where each one of us goes quiet and turns internal. Then as quickly as I had that feeling it goes. It doesn’t leave me but gets drowned and dulled out by the laughter of a new game or a funny face pulled or someone saying something cute or possibly, most likely with a new argument.

But it lasts long enough for me to realise it is happiness.

Utter happiness.

Yes I am lucky.

 

(And my baby just vomited her delicious strawberry milk. I can’t blame her, I never liked strawberries either.)

Whats a Yager Baby?

These are Yager Babies. From the top Sophie, Bella, Molly and Violet.

They are designer babies made by me. I was once a designer baby but now I’m making my own and they are very unique, original and one off’s for sure.

There are two things children need.

Roots and Wings.

Strong roots so they always know where they came from, so they know they will always be welcome back. Strong deep roots give a nice strong foundation.

Broad wings to help them soar from that strong foundation.

Roots and Wings.

I hope I can give both to my children. Only time will tell.

These are my designer Yager Babies.

About Me

Ok now that I have decided to continue to blog I thought the next logical topic would be ‘about me’ I could state the typical such as-

I am a stay at home mum of 4 daughters, expecting most likely another daughter in June. Also to be married to the most amazing man in June.

But that is so boring, and you don’t know anymore ‘about me’. However the fact that I have 4 daughters usually raises eyebrows and more so the fact that we have another baby on the way. Most people introduce me as ‘Cristie, she has 4 kids.’ Yes well,…..it may shock some people but I do have other talents than procreation. Some people think I have some kind of disability, horrible sense of judgement -you know what? That could be true.- Some possibly think I have allergic reactions to all forms of birth control. Some think perhaps I am religious. Well I am not. I am strictly an evolutionist. But the truth of it is, I simply like children and I guess being my own children I like them even more.

And if you look at the bigger picture. 4 beautiful girls to date, I have done my fair share of the continuation of our species as a whole.

Now to lightly touch on the subject of my fiance` (After all my children and fiance` are a large part of my life but are not ‘me’) He is amazing and how do I know this? Well I have had my fair share of experience with men. I am fairly knowledgable about the general population of men and the way they work. So factually he is amazing, not just in my mind or just my opinion. Everyone thinks so.

So I am lucky in love.

Now me…..hmmm

I can’t accurately describe myself in a way that would make you see ‘who’ I am so I’ll give you a bunch of confusing things to consider.

I have been called a hippy-I know that I am easy-going and ‘earthy’ but I don’t feel hippy.

I have been called eccentric was it because I wore a rainbow maxi dress with sequined flats once?

I’m smart, yet I can be so naive.

I’m strong and independent, but you know what sometimes I’d like to curl into a ball and cry myself to sleep. I’m not tough but I sure as hell try to act it.

I smile a lot. Half the time I don’t think I should be.

I don’t like everyone. I am nice however, to everyone.

I am not judgemental, but when someone rubs me the wrong way I can find one million pointless things I don’t like about them.

I like gossip. especially about people who rub me the wrong way.

I grew up way to fast.

I never finished school, but know that I am intelligent. My love of reading, writing and everything art, combined with the fact that I’ve had no parents since I was 13 helped. Oh…please don’t think they passed away. In the simplest way of speaking one is an alcoholic the other is a workaholic.

I’ve grown up learning how NOT to live.

I am HIGHLY ambitious.

I am too curious.

You know what just like every other person on this planet I could continue forever. But the truth of it is, I don’t really know much ‘about me’ So how could I ever expect to give anyone else an accurate description.

I think I will just blog.

Should I really be blogging this?

This is the second blogging site I have joined after numerous attempts over months to join and post on another site -which will remain unnamed-for some reason it would not allow me to write a post. After some consideration I thought perhaps it was all for the best. Maybe it was some kind of sign. Yet for some reason I had an overwhelming feeling that I MUST blog. Perhaps it was my rebellious side coming out. I was being told I couldn’t do something so I threw a tantrum and did it anyway!

I feel as though I am a peaceful, caring, kind, individual. Which in most respects I am -except to the people who disagree with me, which are usually the ones I stand up for myself against-  However I do know that internally I can occasionally be in turmoil, feeling like I am not kind enough, not nice enough, and certainly not at all at peace with myself.

No one seems to notice this.

I’m a fair writer and I know that I express myself much better with written words. Which makes me wonder if perhaps I will be too honest, not that I think someone can be too honest. But I don’t know you, and I’ll  be telling you things that maybe I shouldn’t. And I also considered the fact that there are hundreds, thousands most likely millions of blogs out there. Why on earth would mine be any different, better, funnier than anyone elses? Well it won’t be. Just like in the real world some people will appreciate me, some people will want to chew me up and spit me out.

Occasionally being chewed up and spat out is not such a bad thing.

(Depending of course on the quality of the teeth doing the chewing and the clarity of the saliva being spat.)

I’m not here to carry on with how great of a mother, partner or person I am. (Trust me I have read my fair share of ‘look at me, look at me’ blogs.)

I’m not here to carry on about anything really.

So perhaps as the title of this post says…..

Should I really be blogging this?