Amra Pajalic

So anyone who’s been reading my blog for a while knows I have a penchant for vampire books. Who doesn’t these days? I’m hooked on The Vampire Diaries show, and as the weeks are progressing I’m beginning to get really curious about the storyline and what actually happens. So I have to get the books and I do. Well, let’s just say they did not age well. Lots of telling versus showing, characters aren’t well developed (or likeable), lots of plausibility issues (one of my big annoyances is a new teacher inviting the students to his house for a get to know you party-yeah that’s going to fly, and Stefan the main character lives in a boarding house).

On top of all this the show has basically taken the bare bones of the book story structure and completely re-worked it. In the books Stefan and Damon are from Italian Renaissance whereas the show they’re from the Civil War. So if you’re thinking of reading the books to get an idea of where the show is going-don’t. Just enjoy the show and get in lots of perving on eye candy. Is it bad that I’m barracking for Damon? So this is why I love Monday nights. Another show I’m in luuurve with is Glee. So entertaining and the songs are gorgeous and addictive. I’m still chuckling every time I remember the episode a few weeks back where Beyonce’s Single Ladies was used as a motivational tool by the football team. Hysterical.

My baby is a beautiful monster. She’s been teething this weekend and gets really clingy and whingy so she’s been sleeping with me since Friday night. She now sleeps on her stomach and wakes up by going into a crawling position, looks over at me and gives me a gummy smile. She sits up and starts clapping her hands, giving me the signal that she’s ready to party. As her little head pops up I get angry because I’m so tired, then she smiles and I’m laughing, and then 20 minutes later while I’m trying to get her to sleep I’m frustrated and weepy.

Last night my husband took over the night shift from 10 pm and I went to sleep in the spare bedroom. I slept for 3.5 hours beautifully and got up to check on them expecting to find them sleeping, instead my husband was sitting up with her in his arms, his face full of frustration. He rocked her to sleep but every time he tried to put her down she woke crying. I took her from him and he looked over at me and said, ‘How do you do it?’ and began crying from frustration.

While I was sad he was crying, I was also full of joy. I’ve been struggling the past couple of weeks. Feeling weepy and full of frustration as her routine has eroded and her demands increased. My weepiness made me feel weak and embarrassed, but now I feel such relief. If he broke down after 3.5 hours of interrupted sleep and battling with baby then it’s not me being weak, it’s just a natural process of wear and tear. There is a reason sleep deprivation was used as a form of torture.

I’ve made an appointment with MCH nurse and am going to have a chat with her about my feelings lately. Maybe look at a sleep clinic. While I know all the steps I have to take to get her sleeping in her cot and having a set routine, it’s hard reinforcing it constantly because each time she is teething she’s in so much pain and needing more comfort and so I do this dance again.

I remember the heady days when she was 3 months and her sleep cycle stretched out and she’d go down for 8 hours. I was able to placate her by feeding her in bed and had the best sleep ever. I was getting 12 hours easy and feeling so good. In those moments I was so smug about all the complaints about motherhood being hard. Yes, I thought, it is hard. But it’s beautiful and I love it. And while it is still beautiful and I love it, it is so bloody hard because it is unrelenting. Any job you have, no matter how demanding or hard or crappy, ends and you come home and don’t have to think about it again, but parenting does not stop. It is 24/7 regardless of how you feel and that’s what makes it so hard.

Sleep deprivation really affects your psyche. I find it hard to move on from bad thoughts and get into these stupid patterns of thinking and can’t shake them off. This happened once before when I was in uni and sleep deprived and stressed from exams. I c0nvinced myself there was  man living in the ceiling of our flat. While I knew this thought was completely irrational, there was no sound, or disturbance, no access to the ceiling or anything like that, this thought kept intruding into my mind and I could not shake it. Finally I shared it with my husband and he got the ladder, climbed up to the ceiling and completed a thorough investigation. Finally I could move on.

This weekend I convinced myself Sofia was a dwarf baby. I knew that it is not possible, she has no physical characteristics, she is always tall when she’s measured during appointments, yet this thought would not leave me. So I started investigating on the internet and looking at baby photos. In the end I shared the thought with my husband and after rolling his eyes a few times, he listed all the rational reasons that this was not possible and I could move on.

While I’ve been battling through my feelings I’ve thankfully had the support of friends who are going through the same things and being able to verbalise some of these crazy thoughts makes them fade into nothingness. My husband has taken time off work and has cared for Sofia  so I can ride this wave of fatigue out and I feel like I’m coming out of the ocean for now. But I know that the tide will drag me out again and my husband and friends will pass me a life jacket so I can tread water until I can lift myself onto the boat. That’s the nature of motherhood and it’s worth it, because of my beautiful monster, but it really is the hardest job in the world.

Bosna Magazin article

Originally uploaded by amrapajalic

My article in Bosna Magazin for Bosnians to read.

It’s been a crazy week. Have had some amazing publicity within the Bosnian community, which has some good and bad points. Have had a lot more blog hits and been getting interview requests with Bosnian media, but also had a blog troll leaving an idiotic comment on my blog to which I responded-read my book before taking pot-shots.

I’m featured in Bosna Magazin, the national Bosnian newspaper, and have participated in an interview with Azra magazin, a newspaper in Sarajevo. A Bosnian film maker contacted me about possibly using my novel for a play, so I’ve posted him a copy of my book. Was speaking to Anne who manges rights within Text and she said not to get my hopes up. The performance industry is full of hot air and there can be a lot of hype to go with it. So it’s fun, but not something I’m banking on.

I was interviewed for Bosnian radio on SBS, where I spoke in my dodgy Bosnian. I had to keep stopping and asking the reporter for Bosnian words, but there are also a lot of English words sprinkled throughout. One of the points I emphasised in the interview is that while my novel is representing Bosnians, it is also representing the issue of mental illness in people who have a migrant background and young people in the Western suburbs.

I’ve been wanting to improve my Bosnian for a while, especially because I want Sofia exposed to the language and want to read to her in Bosnian and have her watch Bosnian cartoons etc when she’s at an age to watch stuff, so now I’m more motivated. I’m going to read the Bosnian newspaper every week and this will get my skills back up. I’m such a fast reader in English that’s it’s really weird to read so slowly in another language.

I also need to create a Bosnian page with info about me for Bosnians to read about, so hopefully I’ll work on that this week. This is where being married to a Bosnian-born comes in handy. While I lived overseas for four years as a child I’ve lost some of my skills so he’s my proofreader.

It’s funny how quickly your head gets turned by this sort of stuff. I started checking my stats every day and was getting 50 hits a day. Then over the weekend they dropped and I was instantly feeling deflated. At least though I’m getting back into the swing of writing every day. While the publicity is fun and makes my ego happy, it also confirms how I need to reconnect with my writing to feel good about myself. So I’m going to push myself to write every day for at least an hour. As soon as I have my headspace consumed with a project I feel content and it’s much easier to put things into perspective.

Hvala svim Bosancima koji su glasali za mene za Melbourne Prize za Literaturu 2009 Nagrada za Najbolje Pisanje. Na zalost knjiga je za sada samo objavljena na Engleskom jeziku. Nadam se da ce se objaviti i na nasem jeziku u buducnosti i ako se to desi javicu vam.

Puno zdravlja, srece i ljubavi svima vama od Amre.

Last night I was invited to attend drinks to celebrate being a finalist for the Melbourne Prize for Literature. The setting was the 35th floor of the Sofitel Hotel and it was an amazing view.

As part of the exhibition that will be in November at Federation Square the finalists will appear in a 60 second video. Last night I was filmed for this and I can honestly say I haven’t done anything so awkward.

I planned what I was going to say-which ended up being a big mistake. I was so rehearsed that I didn’t sound natural. I felt so stiff and uncomfortable, and I kept trying to keep my hands down, which made things worse because I’m a hand-talker. The film crew were great and they think they got enough there to string together a good 60 seconds so lets hope I’m pleasantly surprised by how articulate I sound-fingers crossed.

I heard about this story on a morning show this morning and it’s completely freaked me out. Parents took bathtime photos of their three girls and submitted the memory stick, which had 177 images on it including images of their holiday, to Wal-Mart for processing. The Wal-Mart employee processing the photos interpreted 4 of the 7 bathtime photos as child pornography as there was “portion or outline or genitalia.”

The parents are now suing Wal-Mart as they lost $75,000 in legal fees, the mother a teacher was suspended from her job and then reinstated when they were cleared, they were placed on a sex-offender register and then removed, and lost custody of their children for a month. You can read about it here and here.

This is such an awful case. While children should be protected and someone who suspects child abuse and pornography should speak up, this story just illustrates the danger about lack of common-sense. These photos being interpreted as child pornography seems to be an issue of perception about what is perversion. Especially since the photos were within a series of family snaps and were in a context where nudity is required.

Like most parents I have photos of my daughter in the bath, having a shower with each of us, and playing unclothed. Who is to say that someone won’t look at these innocent photos as perversion because my daughter is unclothed, or the ones in the shower with each of us as offensive.

These parents will have their lives forever blighted by these accusations and I don’t even want to think about how this will impact on their day to day parenting. To have this awful thought in their head whenever taking a photograph or interacting with your child would be heartbreaking, and as a parent I find this scary. It makes me re-think all the photos I’ve taken over the past 8 months and how anyone could misinterpret anything.

The Advocate are running a series of article with Beyond Blue about mental illness. I was featured talking about the experience of having a parent who is a Bi Polar sufferer. Read it here.

I’m one of ten writers shortlisted for the Melbourne Prize for Literature 2009 Best Writing Award. I’m so wrapped. The shortlisted writers are diverse and it’s great that so many different writing styles are recognised. The votes are by popular vote for the Civic Award so get behind your favourite and vote here.

Best Writing Award 2009 finalists
Tom Cho — Look Who’s Morphing, Giramondo
Joel Deane — Magisterium, Arcadia
Lisa Gorton — Press Release, Giramondo
Chloe Hooper — The Tall Man, Hamish Hamilton/Penguin
Simmone Howell — Everything Beautiful, Pan Macmillan
Myfanwy Jones — The Rainy Season, Viking
Lally Katz — Goodbye Vaudeville Charlie Mudd, HLA
Nam Le — The Boat, Hamish Hamilton/Penguin
Amra Pajalic — The Good Daughter, Text
Jeff Sparrow — Killing, Melbourne University Press

It’s amazing how motherhood changes you. I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep or brain atrophy from being home in my bubble, but I’ve been struggling with public speaking. It’s something I’m usually good at and just comes naturally. Before I had Sofia I used to look forward to any opportunity to take part in public speaking. I would still be nervous, but when I was standing up in front of people I’d be flying. Sentences would effortlessly trip off my tongue, I’d be able to plan my talk as I was going, and I’d have fun. This year I’ve had a few moments where I managed to enjoy myself, but most of the time I’m in an agony of nerves beforehand, I get up there and my brain shuts down, I can’t remember any stories, I have blank moments, and I can’t maintain my train of thought.

My confidence was getting affected by it so I’d dread the next engagement even more, then keep beating myself up about my performance, thinking of better sentences, things I should have said. I finally had a break-through and in my last presentation I felt like myself. It was effortless and fun, I could feel the audience with me and I was flying.

The only problem is I don’t know why it worked and how to replicate it again. I had a cold, slept for about 5 hours, was taking flu and cold tablets, yet I was there, present in the moment. Was it the lack of self-consciousness because I was in my cold bubble where everything felt far away, was it the fact that I could feel this audience was really interested in what I had to say because they were from the Western suburbs, was it the preparation I did in writing up index card prompts (which I didn’t end up using), was it the practice of all those talks beforehand that I agonised over and I’d finally learnt from my mistakes. I don’t know. I have a couple more talks in October so we’ll see if I can hold it together.

I also find myself struggling with reading and watching anything that features children being hurt. Even ridiculous things like a mystery novel featuring a character left in a gothic mansion by his disengaged parents. Usually I would read this novel and take it for what it is, a convention in order to give the young protagonist an opportunity to be a sleuth, now I read it and judge the parents, feel horrible about this kid being abandoned and can’t finish the novel.

I feel like I’m a mass of contradictions. I want Sofia to eat more solids and wean off the boob because I will go back to being me, having more time and freedom, yet I find myself sabotaging her efforts by giving her too much boob. It’s almost like I get scared about her weaning off and how little breastmilk she needs at this point and then I start putting her on just to keep that connection going.

I had an appointment with the specialist about carpal in my right hand and he recommended I stop breastfeeding because that might be causing the nerve compression because of fluid retention. Whenever people ask me how long will I breastfeed for I’d always say until she’d 2 years old. That way I wouldn’t focus in on the fact that she’s 8 months old and she really only needs to breastfeed until 1. But now that carpal is a factor I really need to push to get her eating more solids. If the carpal is caused by breastfeeding fluid retention, then it will ease as she drops off her feeds.

But I find myself struggling with the inevitability of her not breastfeeding anymore. That she won’t be my baby and I won’t have that primal connection with her. While the rational part of my brain recognises that this is inevitable, the other Mummy part doesn’t want to accept it. While I love seeing her grow and thrive, it also freaks me out because she’s all mine now. I have to carry her, hold her, do everything for her, and no one else can do these things for her. But that’s going to change and I won’t be the centre of her universe anymore, and she won’t be mine, and that’s the way it should be, but I find myself already mourning.

I’m going to be putting her in some from of childcare from January next year. Just a few hours a week. At this point it’s more for my sake then it is for hers. I need to transition off this crazy connection and learn to spend time without her. I know she’ll be fine. She’s one of those kids who’s easy with others and will probably have a ball, while I’ll go home and cry my arse off.