Time flies, the saying says. The years all blur together and before you know it, you are middle-aged. You do not believe it until it happens to you. Then, things that you see or smell, or things that people say, they give you flashbacks. Little flashes of memory. You will remember a day or a moment in time that was special or left an imprint on your brain. Sometimes an object will bring up a memory of your past. If it was an enormous memory or tragedy in your life, it will trigger you every time. Sometimes it may be just now and then, if it is in context to what you are doing or thinking about now.
A Facebook event invite blipped on my phone. No more paper invitations these days. It was an invitation to my niece's baby shower. It even had an online link to a gift registry at a baby store, where she had already selected her gifts of choice. How very organised, I thought, but also, it takes all the fun out of buying the gift. There is no expectant mother who wants 100 identical items, but isn't it a hoot when Great Aunty gifts the pink, frilly, itchy, lace dress that you know the baby will never wear? All the guests ooh and ahh and say Oh, it's beautiful, whilst the mother to be is horrified at the thought of dressing her baby in it.
Baby shopping is just next level in 2024 compared to 1996. I was given a lot of things second-hand. A cot, the change table, a monitor, even cloth nappies that I wore as a baby myself. You can buy baby monitors now that have video, as well as audio, 2-way talkback, temperature sensor, Wi-Fi or no Wi-Fi(in case of hackers!) ,soothingsounds, lullabies and up to 4 cameras.
Our monitor plugged in to the wall, one in our bedroom and one in the baby's room. It was dodgy, but if our daughter cried, we could hear her okay. I usually left it turned on, but it wasn't something I depended on. Hence, as a first-time mother, my baby was rarely far from me, and I managed to do all the household chores with her very close.
We did have disposable nappies in the 1990's but cloth nappies were still well used especially when at home. I would soak the soiled, large white cloth squares in the nappy bucket with Napisan and then wash them with Lux flakes. t was a tradition of sorts; my mother having done the same. I would hang them all in a row on the clothesline in the sun. It was nice to be outside and good to know my daughter had healthy kidneys when I could count around 12-20 of them to hang each day.
I was a young mother of 25. My next door neighbours were roughly around the same age. A guy and girl who had moved in together, the good looking guy was a popular local boy, a sought-after lifeguard, who dated many girls in the small country town. He was a genuinely, nice guy, and he had finally landed on a blonde, perfect girl who reminded me of the Sweet Valley High books I had read in my teens.
Being a stay-at-home Mum, sometimes the days were long and tiresome. They became routine and sometimes dull. It was a monotonous routine of laundry, feeding the baby, cleaning, feeding again and trying to put the baby to sleep. This day, I had just hung the washing on the line, which was right next to the fence andour next door's washing line. It always irked me when I went out to hang the nappies and the girl next door had hung her weekly washing which always consisted of at least a dozen lacy G-Strings, one peg in each crotch, hanging in a row. "Honestly" I used to think in my head, "who possibly wears those on a daily basis, they are so uncomfortable". I am not really sure why it annoyed me so much, but it did, perhaps it was more the symbolism of it. The G-Strings representing freedom and a much more exciting life than mine.
I walked back to the laundry door, which took me past my daughter's bedroom window, I could hear the static crackle of the baby monitor, which I had forgotten to turn off. Really, there was no need to use it, since I was never that far from her. She was starting to stir, and always needed a nappy change when she woke up.
Each day I would scramble to get all the house jobs done while she was having her morning nap. Right on cue, she woke up. She was a very pretty and calm little baby; it was a joy picking her up out of the cot and I always looked forward to "meeting" her again when she woke up.
I lay her on the mat on the change table and began to change her nappy. It was still winter in the tropics, so no air-conditioning was needed. I had the window open to air out the room. The monitor crackled and I could hear voices on it, which was strange. The girl next door was talking to someone, but it sounded one sided so she must have been on the phone. Next thing I knew her voice was distinctly audible throughthe baby monitor, although the static was heavy. Somehow, the monitor frequency had tuned into her phone line. You can believe me or not. She was becoming quite emotional and obviously pouring her heart out to whoever was on the other end. I had a feeling this conversation was not meant for anyone's ears and before I could reach over and turn the monitor off, I heard it all. Well, you may say, you could have turned it off and stopped listening, but really it started to come through the monitor when I was halfway though cleaning my daughter's poop off her behind. This is tricky with newborns; they kick and squirm and if you don't have both hands involved next thing you know there is poop everywhere!
Now, this conversation I overhead was over 26 years ago now, but the gist of it was, she was having an affair. She was cheating on her handsome, lifeguard boyfriend. I was just getting over the shock and horror of why she would do that, when then, she mentioned the name of her lover. I almost dropped the baby wipes and contained a horrified shriek. Her lover was her boss. This explains the lacy G-Strings she felt she needed to wear on a daily basis. Of course, my starved imagination went wild with the passionate love-making they would do on his desk, hence the need for sexy lingerie!
I finished changing my daughter's nappy, now she smelt like lanolin and fresh nappies. We escaped to the lounge room where I sat, pondering this huge scandal I had innocently been exposed to. My heart was racing and my mind a jumble of images and thoughts. We lived in a small country town. It is true, everyone knows everyone, and gossip is like an epidemic. Thesad thing about the whole situation was that the girl's lover was my best friend's sister's husband. Yes, that is a mouthful. This man had always been known to be a Casanova. This ladies man married his high school sweetheart who was a perfect doll, but the whole town new that he had strayed many, many times during their courtship.
Now it was just heartbreaking to hear that he was cheating on his perfect wife, (the mother of his two children) with my next-door neighbour.
I did not know what to do with this information. It made me a little bit sick inside. My best friend's family were the type to cover up their family dramas so that the world thought their lives were perfect and everybody in it. I decided that it was not my place to tell anyone. The way that the girl next door was crying, made me think that the affair had gotten to breaking point and it would all come out in the open soon. It would be an ugly revelation, especially in a small town like ours and lots people were going to get hurt.
Weeks went by, same routine, same jobs. Luckily, I did not have to see the girl or her lover around town much. It was a getting a bit awkward waving and smiling at the lifeguard neighbour who sadly had no clue.
Then one day I noticed, there are never any G-Strings on the line anymore. Someone at playgroup mentioned the affair. The gossip train had started and everyone had to deal with it.
To this day, if I see a baby monitor, I think of that affair, and if I see the Casanova, the cheating husband, I feel sick and even sicker because he has not aged and thinks he is God's Gift toWomen.
Funny those flashbacks you have when you get old, back then it was a scandalous discovery, now it makes me laugh, because I was so young and naive. With the quality of baby monitors today I would think very carefully about what you are saying and when!
Rosie M
A Facebook event invite blipped on my phone. No more paper invitations these days. It was an invitation to my niece's baby shower. It even had an online link to a gift registry at a baby store, where she had already selected her gifts of choice. How very organised, I thought, but also, it takes all the fun out of buying the gift. There is no expectant mother who wants 100 identical items, but isn't it a hoot when Great Aunty gifts the pink, frilly, itchy, lace dress that you know the baby will never wear? All the guests ooh and ahh and say Oh, it's beautiful, whilst the mother to be is horrified at the thought of dressing her baby in it.
Baby shopping is just next level in 2024 compared to 1996. I was given a lot of things second-hand. A cot, the change table, a monitor, even cloth nappies that I wore as a baby myself. You can buy baby monitors now that have video, as well as audio, 2-way talkback, temperature sensor, Wi-Fi or no Wi-Fi(in case of hackers!) ,soothingsounds, lullabies and up to 4 cameras.
Our monitor plugged in to the wall, one in our bedroom and one in the baby's room. It was dodgy, but if our daughter cried, we could hear her okay. I usually left it turned on, but it wasn't something I depended on. Hence, as a first-time mother, my baby was rarely far from me, and I managed to do all the household chores with her very close.
We did have disposable nappies in the 1990's but cloth nappies were still well used especially when at home. I would soak the soiled, large white cloth squares in the nappy bucket with Napisan and then wash them with Lux flakes. t was a tradition of sorts; my mother having done the same. I would hang them all in a row on the clothesline in the sun. It was nice to be outside and good to know my daughter had healthy kidneys when I could count around 12-20 of them to hang each day.
I was a young mother of 25. My next door neighbours were roughly around the same age. A guy and girl who had moved in together, the good looking guy was a popular local boy, a sought-after lifeguard, who dated many girls in the small country town. He was a genuinely, nice guy, and he had finally landed on a blonde, perfect girl who reminded me of the Sweet Valley High books I had read in my teens.
Being a stay-at-home Mum, sometimes the days were long and tiresome. They became routine and sometimes dull. It was a monotonous routine of laundry, feeding the baby, cleaning, feeding again and trying to put the baby to sleep. This day, I had just hung the washing on the line, which was right next to the fence andour next door's washing line. It always irked me when I went out to hang the nappies and the girl next door had hung her weekly washing which always consisted of at least a dozen lacy G-Strings, one peg in each crotch, hanging in a row. "Honestly" I used to think in my head, "who possibly wears those on a daily basis, they are so uncomfortable". I am not really sure why it annoyed me so much, but it did, perhaps it was more the symbolism of it. The G-Strings representing freedom and a much more exciting life than mine.
I walked back to the laundry door, which took me past my daughter's bedroom window, I could hear the static crackle of the baby monitor, which I had forgotten to turn off. Really, there was no need to use it, since I was never that far from her. She was starting to stir, and always needed a nappy change when she woke up.
Each day I would scramble to get all the house jobs done while she was having her morning nap. Right on cue, she woke up. She was a very pretty and calm little baby; it was a joy picking her up out of the cot and I always looked forward to "meeting" her again when she woke up.
I lay her on the mat on the change table and began to change her nappy. It was still winter in the tropics, so no air-conditioning was needed. I had the window open to air out the room. The monitor crackled and I could hear voices on it, which was strange. The girl next door was talking to someone, but it sounded one sided so she must have been on the phone. Next thing I knew her voice was distinctly audible throughthe baby monitor, although the static was heavy. Somehow, the monitor frequency had tuned into her phone line. You can believe me or not. She was becoming quite emotional and obviously pouring her heart out to whoever was on the other end. I had a feeling this conversation was not meant for anyone's ears and before I could reach over and turn the monitor off, I heard it all. Well, you may say, you could have turned it off and stopped listening, but really it started to come through the monitor when I was halfway though cleaning my daughter's poop off her behind. This is tricky with newborns; they kick and squirm and if you don't have both hands involved next thing you know there is poop everywhere!
Now, this conversation I overhead was over 26 years ago now, but the gist of it was, she was having an affair. She was cheating on her handsome, lifeguard boyfriend. I was just getting over the shock and horror of why she would do that, when then, she mentioned the name of her lover. I almost dropped the baby wipes and contained a horrified shriek. Her lover was her boss. This explains the lacy G-Strings she felt she needed to wear on a daily basis. Of course, my starved imagination went wild with the passionate love-making they would do on his desk, hence the need for sexy lingerie!
I finished changing my daughter's nappy, now she smelt like lanolin and fresh nappies. We escaped to the lounge room where I sat, pondering this huge scandal I had innocently been exposed to. My heart was racing and my mind a jumble of images and thoughts. We lived in a small country town. It is true, everyone knows everyone, and gossip is like an epidemic. Thesad thing about the whole situation was that the girl's lover was my best friend's sister's husband. Yes, that is a mouthful. This man had always been known to be a Casanova. This ladies man married his high school sweetheart who was a perfect doll, but the whole town new that he had strayed many, many times during their courtship.
Now it was just heartbreaking to hear that he was cheating on his perfect wife, (the mother of his two children) with my next-door neighbour.
I did not know what to do with this information. It made me a little bit sick inside. My best friend's family were the type to cover up their family dramas so that the world thought their lives were perfect and everybody in it. I decided that it was not my place to tell anyone. The way that the girl next door was crying, made me think that the affair had gotten to breaking point and it would all come out in the open soon. It would be an ugly revelation, especially in a small town like ours and lots people were going to get hurt.
Weeks went by, same routine, same jobs. Luckily, I did not have to see the girl or her lover around town much. It was a getting a bit awkward waving and smiling at the lifeguard neighbour who sadly had no clue.
Then one day I noticed, there are never any G-Strings on the line anymore. Someone at playgroup mentioned the affair. The gossip train had started and everyone had to deal with it.
To this day, if I see a baby monitor, I think of that affair, and if I see the Casanova, the cheating husband, I feel sick and even sicker because he has not aged and thinks he is God's Gift toWomen.
Funny those flashbacks you have when you get old, back then it was a scandalous discovery, now it makes me laugh, because I was so young and naive. With the quality of baby monitors today I would think very carefully about what you are saying and when!
Rosie M
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