When size does matter. {Sponsored Giveaway}

This post is sponsored by Colgate and Digital Parents Collective.

Dental health is a big thing at my place. If you've been here awhile you might remember the trauma around my Little Mate's dental surgery last year. Thinking about it still sets my teeth on edge, no pun intended.

Sadly a collision at speed between his mouth and some concrete has seen a couple of his flash new chompers looking a little worse for wear these days, but I remain so grateful that he has them at all. And as you can imagine I'm pretty strict with all the kids when it comes to brushing their teeth.

Anyway, I was sent some new Colgate Slim Soft brushes and popped them on the bench to move to our bathroom later on. That was my mistake.

My big kids spotted them and claimed them immediately. So much for me reviewing them hey?

But then I'm hardly going to argue when my kids WANT to brush their teeth, and a new toothbrush is generally novelty enough that I get a week or so of no heel-dragging at teeth time.

So because I haven't gotten to use them myself, I asked my big boy what he thought. He replied 'It feels softer and more comfortable than other toothbrushes'. Well done son, there's a career in advertising for you yet.

I didn't even need to ask the big girl. The first time she brushed she came running out and told me that 'It's really skinny Mum! It feels soft and skinny in my mouth!'.

From the mouths of babes. About the mouths of babes. Yup.

Here's the pitch. The bristles are 17 times finer than those of an ordinary toothbrush, make cleaning in those crevicey spots much more effective, and the softness doesn't leave your mouth feeling like it's been attacked by sandpaper on a stick.

Here's the REAL pitch. If you buy them, your kids might be more willing to brush their teeth for a while. And that right there makes it worthwhile if you too have children who act as though they've never heard such a shocking suggestion, despite hearing it twice daily forever.

At $3.99 for a single or $6.99 for a two pack, I think that is money well spent.

I will be buying one for myself and hiding it before the two year old eats it. You can find them at Woolworths, Coles and Priceline.

Or maybe you'd like to win some to try? I'm giving away four of the Colgate Slim Soft toothbrushes (which will either see you sorted for a year or cover your kids if you have four like me) to three winners.

To enter please leave a comment telling me how you encourage the people at your house to brush their teeth. No really, I want to know! Entry is open to Australian residents and this is a game of skill so be a bit creative. The competition closes at 5pm on Saturday 25th of May. Good luck!

#OperationMOVE - some weeks.

May has been a pretty rubbish month for moving for me, so far.

I've been beating myself up about it a fair bit, which along with the filthy weather here has not been brilliant for my mood.

But I've had a little epiphany. I've been moving flat out for 8 months straight now. One month is not going to take away all the gains that I've made. One month of moving less may actually be a really good thing as I'll be starting training for the half marathons very soon and lazy days won't be an option then. Taking the time to just relax and do less is not necessarily a bad thing.

That is what I am telling myself anyway. But I can see how people slide into inactivity so easily. If it weren't for the support and encouragement of our Facebook group I can see that I'd allow myself to just let it go, and be facing a total start over come Spring. And yet again I feel so grateful for this group, for all of you who read here and join in and chat in the group and just keep me moving... keep us all moving. You are so amazing and I could not be prouder.

So here is the tally for the month so far, I hope you are travelling a little better than I am!

Tell me your numbers! :D

Postnatal Depression - A Guest Post by Kym.

My beautiful sister shares her mental health journey today, and her experience of postnatal depression. Thankyou so much Kym, you are an inspiring woman and I am so incredibly proud of you.

I am blessed with mental illness.

I've had a long history with multiple diagnoses... anxiety disorder, major depression (clinical term, not just me quantifying!), borderline personality disorder.. All adequate ways to explain and justify the things in my brain's functioning that aren't ideal.

It all fluctuates to varying degrees and grabbing the bull by the horns when I was 20 (I'm now 33) and obtaining those diagnoses and beginning the journey of treatment/medication/education was the best thing I ever did. Ever. Because all the good things since could not have happened without that. I have a fantastic life! I have a beautiful husband, a wonderful son, a job I am soooo passionate about, so many wonderful friends, great family (on BOTH sides! How lucky am I??) and an appreciation and deep gratitude for every single bit of it. It was hard earned, this brain functioning, and is hard earned still... but worth every bit of effort I've had to pour in, and every misstep and stumble that even now can be a horrid reminder that my chemistry is what it is. I can manage it, but I can't neglect it for even a few days. 

I am unmedicated now, and have been for 8 years. My first psychiatrist was great for educating me. He had a course you had to do as part of your therapy that explained brain chemistry (in a simplified way, of course) and did wonders to help me separate my illness from *me*. My second one didn't bowl me over with revelations but did refer me to my third (when I moved interstate), and it was my third who worked with me on cognitive therapy and psychotherapy and helped me eradicate my need for the medications to stabilise my chemistry. I can now do it in other ways. They aren't as simple as popping a pill - but as anyone who has taken anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds can attest, that road is no picnic either! Lots of trial and error, awful side effects... I am happy to no longer be dealing with that (but, would take them again if it was warranted, they can really save your life). My third was my last, and I finished with him 8 years ago, too. He was amazing for me, and I firmly believe that getting past ANYTHING is about finding the help that perfectly matches your needs, even if it means shopping around. He also genuinely cared about me - so much so that he has attended a few gigs and things I've done since - he would just wave and then a week later there'd be a letter in the mail telling me that he thought I'd done well or something. He retired when I stopped seeing him (was I his crowning achievement?? hehe hardly) but always said to me that the thing I had to remember was that it is a lifetime of management, and that there is no prize for doing it alone - there would always be help available and I should never feel hesitant to ask for it.

When I got pregnant, my psychiatric history was one of those red flags for the doctors, they all reminded me that it was possible that I would be more vulnerable to post natal depression. Ha.. as if! I am the queen of my brain, I know it better than anyone on earth and ain't no PND gonna sneak in and wreck my life - ESPECIALLY since my baby was an absolute miracle, I knew there was NO WAY I'd have even a moment of not appreciating and remembering that and feeling good about him!

Yeah.. so.. well.. turns out I'm not as pro as I thought.

The exhaustion alone with a newborn, could cause PND. Oh and the hormones, which is actually what brain chemistry is. All that fluctuating madness is enough to drive you to madness. And of course my predisposition didn't help. But I KNEW having a newborn was hard, I had seen plenty of new mums going through exactly what I was going through, and so that made it normal, right? Only, it isn't what's going on with your baby that is the issue (it can sure seem like it!)... it's how your head is dealing with it all. As a seasoned mentally ill pro, I did a pretty good job at hiding what was going on in my head. In fact, when I *came out* with PND down the track, people were surprised. But if they'd been reading my mind, they'd have noticed it long before I acknowledged it.

It is so scary. Depression is scary enough - because it feels like it's who you are, it feels like it is part of you and your personality, and it is hard to separate it from your identity and treat it as an illness. But throw in a baby that is almost entirely your responsibility and suddenly it is actually utterly terrifying.

Some women experience thoughts of harming their baby - I had a couple of thoughts of that but thankfully it wasn't excessive (it was so distressing - I would NEVER hurt him - so why would my brain create these scenarios?). Many experience self-harm thoughts. For some women, these thoughts can become reality. Again, I am so glad that didn't happen to me. There is a checklist that is used in diagnosis of PND that is worth being familiar with. It includes a lot of things that are normal to experience once in a blue moon but not to experience often, and things like that.

I had a lot of terrifying nights. My husband would be sound asleep beside me and I'd be feeding my son for the 4th time (and each feed was well over an hour) and just losing my mind. I'd scream, silently, and I'd be praying like mad for some relief. My days were often dark - I forced myself to be out in the world, knowing that is one of the things that helps my chemistry the most - and luckily I was able to go to work with my baby and still teach and take my choirs and have hours here and there where I was "me" again. Having to smile and be energetic, having to look after other people's needs (bigger people!), being trusted to cope - these things helped me enormously. But didn't take my PND away.

And this baby, this precious ball of lovely who I love SO MUCH, he was growing fast. SO fast. And I was miserable. I felt detached. And if he's the only baby I ever have, I'd be so furious with myself if I let ANYTHING get in the way of me savouring his life.

I knew that my third psych, had he known, would be looking at me with expectation. Why was I wondering what to do, when I knew what to do?

So, I bit the bullet, and saw my GP. A few weeks later I was beginning a few rounds of cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT). I opted for the non-drug route to see how I'd go. And the minute I started using what I was learning in CBT, I remembered how much work this old brain needs. How much maintenance. And I hadn't been maintaining it - I'd been busy with motherhood.

It's not enough to get help - you have to USE IT. But I know that. And I am willing to work. I have always been willing to work. So it wasn't long before things shifted, and I was able to gather momentum and really notice changes.

I would be telling a very different story (or I'd be unable to tell a story at all) if I hadn't experienced mental illness pre-baby. And I think that for women experiencing PND without a history of mental illness, it must be so much harder again.

Everyone has a different experience, and all experiences are valid. If you think that something isn't as it should be in your inner life - or your outer life for that matter - then you need to reach out and accept the help you need. And if you aren't getting what you need, reach again, in another direction. It is somewhere within your reach. And if you yourself can't reach out for professional help, then confide in someone who will take that step with you. The only wrong thing to do is to suffer in silence.

There are a lot of emotions tied in with motherhood and depression - guilt and shame are big ones for me. And all the bravado in the world won't cure the inner life, the one that I have to experience twenty four hours a day. So, I think being honest matters. I think being unafraid to discuss it, unafraid to talk about the feelings and experiences, unafraid to express my own inabilities and shortcomings as a mother and as a human being. All these things help to take some of the stigma out of PND and out of mental illness in general. It's hard to do - it's hard to admit. But I know this illness is NOT who I am, it does not control my life (anymore), and it has given me more in my life than it has taken away, by challenging me and forcing me to grow and learn.

Which is why I am blessed with mental illness. 

One in seven new mums are diagnosed with postnatal depression. PANDA offer care and support to affected women and their families, but desperately need more funding to help reach the 93% of struggling Mums that they currently cannot. This May PANDA are asking you to quickly and easily email your local MP via the Million Mums website and let them know that this essential service deserves their support.

When the day comes...

Sometimes all the mental preparation in the world won't help when the day comes. Knowing the likelihood and experiencing the reality can be two very different things.

We had another appointment this week. This time we were meeting with my Little Mate's new early intervention caseworker. Another hour spent telling the same story that we told to her senior a couple of weeks ago. The same story that I seem to have repeated a million times over the past couple of years and that I am sure I will continue repeating maybe forever. Another appointment to make another appointment after which there will be another appointment and maybe after all that my son will actually start receiving some therapy. But that is a whole other story.

My Little Mate and my Little Miss Thing were there and played happily together with the playdough that had been provided. They were getting along beautifully. She was chat chat chatting his ear off, and mine, and the case worker's.

Towards the end of the session our case worker commented that there couldn't be any concerns about my little girl's speech. And that was when I knew.

Over the past few weeks my daughter has been putting together increasingly complex sentences. She is a fairly precocious child, but I'm sure on a par with her age peers. She talks to and at me all the time. 

In that moment I stopped listening to my children with my 'Mummy' ears that hear the context and the sounds and the meaning that other people do not. In that moment I knew that the day had come. My two year old had well and truly overtaken my four year old in terms of verbal skills.

I heard her ask him questions. I heard her prompt him the way we do to answer things and interact with her. I heard her diction and clarity.

I heard him struggle to respond. I heard the way the words sounded coming out of his mouth, fuzzy around the edges and unclear at times. I heard him resort to noises and grunts when he got frustrated. 

Maybe it has been like this for a while and I just haven't noticed. But now that I have I can't unnotice it.

It is just another step in our journey. In the great scheme of things it matters not at all. And yet when I got home I cried on my husband's shoulder because we knew that it would happen but that doesn't make it any easier. 

All I can do is be grateful that compared to six months ago, my son's language has improved enormously. I can be thankful that he is nurtured and supported at his kindergarten. I can hold him tight because he is my beautiful boy and nothing will ever change that. But I will allow myself a small moment to grieve yet again for this life that looks like nothing we ever imagined, and for the challenges that he faces.

The day has come, and maybe those roles will never be reversed again. And sometimes that weighs so heavily on my heart.

The time is now.

The past little while I've had this weird feeling of waiting. Like something is about to happen.

Maybe it's because of The Shake. I'm so proud to be part of something that is growing and evolving and that I believe in so much. We've come so far, and we've only just begun.

Maybe it is because I've not been able to run much lately and my cells are screaming for it. The wait to get out and stretch my legs has been excruciating.

Maybe it is because of the wait to find out what will happen with our son next year. It is certainly something that is never far from my mind.

But with all this waiting, all this anticipation, I seem to have lost now.

I've always been a bit like that. So busy looking forward to the next big thing that the everyday but still fantastic things just pass me by. I'm great at living in the moment, if that moment is a week or two away.

Last week my Little Mate wrote his own name for the first time. My Big Boy was selected for an interschool sports competition. My Little Miss Thing started throwing great long sentences around. My Big Girl started a 'BFFs Club'.

These kids of mine are growing up right now. Right this very minute. And if I don't find a way to be more present all these things will be barely recalled memories and I will wonder where their childhoods went.

Maybe I will wonder that anyway. I am sure the time-space continuum alters once you have children and a day can last for months but the years are gone before you can blink.

But I am going to try anyway. To listen more closely. To watch without interfering. To cuddle at every opportunity. As I type this I am wedged between two sleeping small people. Tonight I won't be in such a rush to run away the moment I'm sure they are deeply asleep. Tonight I will just lie still and listen to their breathing for a while. Gaze on their sleeping faces. Wonder at them in this moment.

I can look forward to tomorrow, but I can live in today as well.

The time is now.