This time next week...

This time next week we'll be on holiday, lazing on the beach, sipping cocktails and relaxing...

and the lead up to this week long break has been exhausting...

Man, it takes so much preparation to go away for a few days.  And thats if its just yourself.  Add in 2 kids, 2 dogs and a cat and its organised chaos around here.  I have lists coming out of my ears.  I feel like there's a lot of pressure to think of everything, to be supermum and not forget anyone or any single necessary item.

We have a friend who is kindly house-sitting while we're away, so luckily thats the pets taken care of.  The kids have been "practicing" staying at Grandmas and Koby is now so good at sleeping in his cot over there, that he actually naps better at Grandmas house than in his own home - how does that even happen?!!

Today I did some last minute running around & clothes shopping because its the last chance I'll get to do so without the kids with me.  I actually bought 2 more dresses... I know, what is wrong with me??  I have not stopped moving all day, and now at 8.15pm, I'm finally sitting down, try to relax for an hour or so, and then to bed. 

I may not get back to blogland before we leave next Monday, but stay tuned for some (hopefully) lovely photos of glorious beaches, fruity cocktails and maybe a sunset or two when we get back!

Camp Oven

One of my favourite childhood memories was going on amazing adventures – the Great Ocean Road, or driving from Melbourne to Brisbane – usually camping, or when I was a little bit older, we went caravanning. For some reason we would always take the back roads, and from the window in the backseat of the car, I would spend hours watching the colours change on the fields. I loved driving through one-street-towns, feeling the thrill of “different” - looking at places that I’d never been before, and likely never see again.


I still feel that way now, whenever I go somewhere new. My head is on swivels, and I am breathless with excitement as I struggle to take it all in and implant it in my memory. Can you imagine how excited I was when I first went overseas?

Anyway, the things I remember about those childhood trips are the small, insignificant things – having a 4th birthday cake around the camp table. A billion caravan parks along the way, each with new friends to meet for the day. My brother falling out of the top bunk bed in the middle of the night. The camping “toilet”, literally a bucket. Learning to play Canasta with my dad and beating him. The smell of the camping gear. Helping dad hammer in the tent pegs. Climbing out of tents with bleary eyes, and seeing a new mountain range, tinted with the first rays of sunlight…

My husband, on the other hand, did not have a family that enjoyed camping. His family did other great things, but he’s often said that its something that he feels he missed out on during his childhood.

So with that in mind, we plan to take big adventures with our two, and create a lifetime of memories for them.

We’ve talked about it for months now, planned it, dreamed about it, and have almost decided on a time frame. We have half of the gear from our life “before kids”… we just need to develop on it a little now, to cater for littlies. We do not have things like porta-cots, single air mattresses or kids sleeping bags. A bucket would do, but it would be kinda nice to have a port-a-potty too!

So our equipment list grows… and we expanded it a little more just recently by getting ourselves a cast iron Camp Oven.

Naturally, you have to practice using one, and so we set about creating a culinary masterpiece in our backyard so that we kinda knew what we were doing.

  It was really pretty cool to have a camp fire going in your own backyard, Skye loved it, and the dogs were mesmerised by the flames.

Roast Beef and veggies. Camp Oven Style.



It wasn’t a bad effort I tell you – the meat was lovely and tender and the veggies were cooked well – however they didn’t go crispy, and that is something we need to figure out before we head off to do it "for real" away from home.

Yes thats a lot of potato on the plate - what can I say, I love 'em!

We have done a couple more Camp Ovens in the last few weeks (meat only), and feel much more confident in our abilities. Now we just need to try a few other recipes and expand our repertoire.

Camping is going to be so much fun as a family!

Playing favourites

There has been a bit of an internet storm going on the last few weeks, over a daddy blogger in Canada, who recently posted about favouring one son over the other.

Buzz Bishop has said "Those first 2 years of life were not that exciting for me. My wife loved the babying of our boys, I was wanting them to run, and kick, and play." - He said that its much more fun now, doing stuff with his older 5 year old, than with his 2 year old - therefore he hangs out with his older son more.  And that makes him his "favourite".

You can read about it here and his original post here.

I can understand his point of view - I guess he's really saying that he more enjoys being able to interact with his son, rather than a baby who cant do much yet.  Its the STAGE of life, not the child.

I can also understand why its caused a bit of a scandal.

I remember when I was a kid once, watching a TV show where the sitcom TV mum had several kids, and clearly one of them was the “favourite”. I remember turning to my own mum at the time and saying “Its not good for a parent to have a favourite child, is it mum?”

To which she replied “You can have a favourite, but you must NEVER show that you favour one over the other”.

I thought that was a fair call, but it left me wondering which one of us, me or my brother, was the favoured, golden child!

Looking back now, I can see that at different times of our lives, one or the other would have been more in favour, depending on the situation at the time. No doubt when my brother was a stroppy teen, and I was a cute little 7 year old, I would have been the preferred offspring. And then again when I was the moody teenager and my brother was the sensible young adult living out of home, I’m sure he was the favourite.

My brother and I... awww...  Check out the funky 70's bedspread (or maybe its a tablecloth??!!  Wait, maybe its carpet??!!!)

I do clearly remember exploiting my "baby of the family" status on more than one occasion.  Particularly when I would torment my poor big brother to the point of insanity, whereby he would lash out and punch me on the shoulder.  Then I would go crying to mummy, and the rest would go like this:

Me:     Pretending to be more hurt than I really am: "Waaahhh... mummy... John hit me!!"
Mum: "JOHN!!  Dont hit your sister!"
John: "But she started it!!  And she's annoying me!!"
Mum: "And you're old enough to know better!  Leave her alone!"
John:  Storms off in a huff at the unfairness of it all...
Me:      Smirks in victory

The baby of the family has a lot of power.

Naughty, sneaky little bugger that I was.

(I must remember this when my two start fighting)

Anyway, I cant clearly remember any time when I felt like one or the other was a clear favourite. Its one of the many things I truly respect my parents for. Perhaps my brother might have a different view on this, being the older sibling by 7 years. Certainly there are things that he remembers about our childhood, which I have a totally different view on.

Now that I have two little munchkins of my own, I’m curious to see how my own emotions and feelings pan out over the years to come.  Right now, I have days where I prefer the cute little baby stage (oh so many "ga-ga's" coming out of his mouth at the moment, so precious) over the naughty toddler stage.  Or I sometimes prefer the easier-to-reason-with toddler stage, over the grizzly-tired-just-wants-to-cry baby stage.

But I believe its the STAGE that I prefer, not the child.  I'd give my life for both my children.

What do YOU think?

This week:

This week, we are:


Learning to ride

The trike. Over the last few months she has been valiantly learning to ride, learning to pedal and steer and watch where she is going. Not an easy combination when you break it down really. With her “concentration tongue” peeping out of the corner of her mouth, the frustration has been monumental. She has given up in disgust several times, pouty lip protruding (my mum used to call it the “bulldozer lip” when I was a little one) - the trike pushed aside, left to gather dust in favour of easier, more familiar activities.

Our driveway is long and smooth concrete, but sloped, and not easy for a two and a half year old to negotiate. She has recently tried again on the level concrete path beside the house with greater success. She goes well until she rides past the lounge room windows, with their tinted glass. Then she catches a glimpse of herself in the reflection, and its game over. So intent on grinning at herself in the reflection, she steers straight into the window!

Dreaming about scooters
  A while back, we visited some friends who have some little girls, slightly older than Skye.

The “in” thing at this house was to tear around the front yard and driveway on your scooter – complete with helmet, knee and elbow pads.

Little miss muffett thought this was the coolest thing ever, and at the first opportunity, grabbed a spare scooter and started having a go.

And now, at every opportunity, she's sure to say:

“Maybe Santa will bring me a scooter if I’m a good girl!”

Little does she know, Santa has already delivered it, and its under our bed. :)  Cant wait to see her face on Christmas Day.




Creating random toddler works of art

The other day I was sitting at the computer doing some boring MYOB stuff, and little miss muffett asked if she could sit on my lap. So she clambered on board, and while I kept working, she did some drawings, right under my nose.

For a few minutes I wasn’t paying any attention, but after a while I began to be aware of what she was doing, and took note of my little one expressing herself with pen and paper. 4 post-it notes, 2 hot pink, and 2 flouro orange… and she scribbled, and scribbled, and all the while she was counting out loud to herself:

“seven, eight, nine, ten… eleventeen… twelveteen… … …thirteen… (umm)…twenteen…”

I love how she counts to 10 with confidence, but from there up it gets much more thoughtful and creative.

Trying out her left hand here... normally she uses her right.

Looking apprehensive...

Both sets of grandmothers go a little bit ga-ga over how cute they think their little grandson is... I must admit I'm guilty of thinking he's a bit of a spunk, myself.  I often think he's quite a serious young man, but this photo does seem to show him looking a little apprehensive I think!
*******

In other news, I'm still sick.  Tonsills and glands still swollen - now onto vitamin C and Omega 3's. Completely.Over.It... and fed up.  Would like to be able to swallow without pain.  There, one very small paragraph of moaning, and I'm done.  Proud of me?

With 3 weeks to go until Fiji, I'm also in the process of dropping Koby's feeds, with the plan to have him fully weaned off nursing before we leave.  So far so good, he's completely lost interest anyway and would much rather wriggle, squirm, get off my lap and crawl around the floor, and stuff himself with large quantities of solid foods.  Seriously, this kid can eat.   I have a feeling that he will be eating us out of house and home LONG before he's a teenager.

Also, upper body muscles feeling lovely and sore - I love feeling sore in my biceps, triceps and shoulders... HATE it in lower body though!  Possibly why I have been avoiding leg training lately - eeek!

Time to wrap this up, sounds like a big storm is about to hit.

Later!

Siblings

Its beautiful to watch, this budding relationship between my two babes. Skye is at a ripe age to want to look after her big brother. She wants to help mama out and be a big girl. And that means doing things for Koby. Whenever I change his nappy, she has to be there to “help”. She wants to hold his sippy cup up for him to drink, or give him a dummy if he's crying. She wants to feed him, pat his arm before he goes down for a nap, and help him up when he falls over.

If I dare to put my little Klingon down and walk away, he screams like the world is going to end, and wails like his heart is breaking. But if I put him down and say Skye “can you come and make Koby laugh?” – well, I tend to get a good 10 minutes in the kitchen so I can get dinner started. And my added reward is hearing the two of them giggling at each other – Skye pulling faces, making funny noises or playing peekaboo with him, just to make him chuckle. Sometimes all he needs is to see HER laughing, and he’s off, chortling away with her.

Mind you, he is easy to please - Koby thinks sneezes are hilarious, and blowing raspberries or making vomiting sounds is the funniest thing on the planet.

The other day in the backseat of the car, something set them off. They sat there, peering around at each other in their baby seats, giggling their heads off for the entire car journey. I think my heart just exploded with emotion right then and there. Hubby and I exchanged glances that clearly said “This is so… cool”… I wish I’d had a video camera there to capture it.

I did manage to photograph something on my iphone the other day though, which I shared on instagram (@hilh). We were driving home, when I heard a quiet little giggle, and a “mummy!”. I stole a quick glance and saw this:

Awww… tear… (sniffle). Had to pull over at the bottom of my street (we were almost home) to get a photo.

Someone is about to get their nose 'honked'...

"HONK!!"

I love the expression on his face here - this might sound strange, but I can ALMOST see the 'grown-up Koby' that he will become, in this photo.
At the moment they have a Love-Love relationship. They both adore each other, and I cant even express how ‘warm and fuzzy’ that makes me feel.


I know that will change, but for now, its so beautiful that they love each other and can already share special little moments, a secret language, that only they understand.

Saturday night ramblings

I wish I could say that I was enjoying getting fit again. But I have to admit, I’m not. I used to be one of those people who turned up at the gym every weekday morning at 5.30am. I loved it, loved the friends I made, looked forward to it every day, and enjoyed the feeling of satisfaction, strength and control that it gave me – and the general energy boost didn’t go astray either.


I cancelled my gym membership 3 years ago, once we moved to our current house, because once I went on maternity leave and wasn’t driving to an office every day, it was too far away, and too much to be bothered with.

We have a full set up at home – free weights, dip station, curl station, recline/flat bench, Barbells, fixed AND adjustable dumbbells, squat rack, kettlebells – we even have a fantastic treadmill that my lovely husband bought me one Christmas…

The problem is, there just never seems to be enough time to get everything else done. Actually – no. That’s a lie. I could quite easily get up at 4.30 or 5am to train. I could do it once they go to bed for the night. There is time, I’ve just been choosing to spend it doing other things. Like clean the house. Or continue sleeping.

And I’ve been sick again all week… laryngitis, sore throat, swollen glands, stiff neck, headache… groan, grumble, complain. From the shoulders up, I feel like hell. Husband has ended up with the ACTUAL flu this weekend. Not ‘man flu’ – actual flu. With fever/chills, body aches, vomiting and everything. Its been fun.  It just never seems to end, we are constantly sick here!  I'm talking about the adults here, not the kids.  How is that even possible?

Skye makes me smile when one of us is sick, she snuggles up and pats you on the arm, then gets under the blanket and gives you cuddles to make you feel better. I love that, I love how she is so kind, thoughtful and caring already, and she’s only 2 and a half. She has even started randomly asking us “Are you ok?”  She has a lovely little soul, my girl.

This weekend we’ve shipped the kids off to their grandparents to keep them away from the germs. Well actually, they’re practicing having the kids for when we go to Fiji next month, but its also good to get them away from the flu, even if its just for 24 hours.

They’ve only been away since lunchtime, and I miss them already.

Not sure how I’m going to cope for 6 days. I’m sure after a couple of cocktails I will be having too much of a good time to notice… but I don’t think I can stay liquored up for the entire 6 days somehow!

Some recent photos:

A pretty little flower from our garden  

Checking himself out in the mirror    

Almost... almost... almost crawling....    

My girl - In the middle of telling me a big story

Heres to a healthier, fitter week ahead!

If you could turn back time

I love how sometimes, reading a small, seemingly insignificant sentence online, can trigger a big emotional response from me. Last week I read something, and almost glossed over that sentence – but it stayed with me, has taken seed and grown in my mind, blossoming into a sunny, hot pink gerbera (my favourite flower).


The gist of it was simply this:

Imagine that it is 20 or 30 years from now and your kids are all grown up – they don’t need you any more, they are living their own lives, living their own dreams, and just don’t need mama like they used to. How much would you give to be able to jump into a time-travel machine, and go back in time, to right NOW – and get to experience just 10 minutes more of your small child - sitting on your lap, butterfly kisses, games of “This little piggy”… just 10 minutes more of soft baby cheeks, warm little bodies that just want to be picked up and held, and tucked into bed with a story at night… just 10 minutes more of the magic of believing in Santa and tooth fairies, wanting to hold your hand as you cross the road, needing you to kiss their knee scrapes until they feel better… just 10 minutes more with your little.

When your kids are grown, and don’t need you any more – how much will you miss it? Everyone tells you it goes so fast, and yes I’m experiencing that first hand. My baby is 9 months old already, my big girl will be 3 in December… still little, yes, but still growing up way too fast.

Even if you don’t have kids, there is no telling what the future holds for you. So, be it spending quality time with your family or significant other, making time to heap some lovin’ on your pets (lord knows they don’t live nearly long enough!) or simply basking in the gift of good health – live in the NOW, appreciate the NOW.

This is a beautiful, magical period in my life, and I know that in time I will miss everything that is going on now. We’ll grow into a different stage of our lives, and it will never be exactly the same again. In some ways it will be better, true – but mostly it will just be different.

Since I read about this, I’ve been thinking about it constantly. I’ve been trying to live in the moment for the last 6 months or more (hence the blog name change), but without a constant reminder, its easy to slip back into the old way of thinking, the old way of being.

So I’ve been putting the iphone down more, and getting my craft on with Skye. I’ve been turning off the TV and heading out into the garden, playing on the swings, or just taking Koby around to look and touch and feel the different textures of bark on the trees, or to look at the flowers. Instead of pushing away my senior cat who always wants to sit on my lap, I've been relishing the chance to pat and snuggle with him.  I’ve been getting less frustrated, less angry with a temperamental toddler, less annoyed at a grizzly baby… and just taking a moment to stop and REMEMBER, that no matter how tired or frazzled or even how bored I might sometimes get, I will be a little sad when this time has passed.

Saturday morning - getting our craft on...

All pom-pom monsters must have smiley-faces

Learning how to feed ourselves...

Gotta watch out for that Cheerio's theif!

I keep imagining that its 20 years from now, and I’m back here with another chance to experience my little babies again… and its really helping me to live in the now, and make each day count.

Seeing things differently

A few months ago, as our 3rd wedding anniversary was approaching, we started discussing what we would give each other as a gift. We’ve been together for 13 years, its getting harder and harder to be original. And this time around, neither of us could think of anything that we particularly wanted.

My husband, who knew that I’d been wanting to get a DSLR camera for ages, suggested that we buy that for ourselves, and call it our “present” to each other. I was “OMG” excited - I’d been wanting to upgrade our camera for so long, had been looking at them online for ages, but never really thinking that I'd get one.

Naturally he left the research up to me, so I spent the following weeks agonizing over the choices… for an absolute beginner, I needed a basic entry level DSLR. Plus we had a budget, and weren’t about to go completely crazy on something that I knew nothing about.

I narrowed it down, I read a million reviews, and finally decided on the Canon EOS 600D.

I’ve had this camera for a few months now, and I can honestly say I LOVE it. I’m so in love with this camera, and I’m so obsessed with capturing images of our lives and loves, of every beautiful moment, that I’m using it almost every day. I have even started venturing out of “Auto” mode, playing around with different settings, using manual focus, and trying to learn as I go.

What I love most about this new camera, is what its doing to ME. I’m starting to look at things differently. I’m starting to notice the way light falls on my daughters hair, I’m starting to notice the way catchlights shine in my sons eyes. I look for expressions, for tender moments. I’ve started scouting areas for natural light around my house, and I’m always on the lookout for opportunities to capture a moment in time.

I yearn for knowledge, for the skills to capture and immortalize what I’m seeing. I am frustrated that often what I see does not transfer to the image I’ve taken, because I lack the skills, the confidence and the know-how. I know this will come with practice and time, but its frustrating all the same.

The other day when I went out to bring in some washing, Skye ran ahead of me, plonked herself down on the upturned laundry basket and watched the dogs playing. The sun was at that special afternoon point on the horizon where the light was filtering through sideways… I could see bugs flitting through the rays, her wispy hair was catching the light just-so. I stopped dead in my tracks – instantly seeing the artistic potential - and mourned the fact that I didn’t have my camera with me. She looked so angelic, damn it! So I did the next best thing, and grabbed my iphone out of my pocket and snapped a few quick shots. Yes there was washing on the line behind her, and yes she was sitting on a pink laundry basket, but it was the spirit of the moment I was trying to capture. Another photo that didn’t live up to my expectations.

I had to crop the hell out of this to try to give a rough idea what I was going for!

Then the other night I had just gone out with the dogs for their pre-bed stretch and “wee walk”, when I looked up and noticed the moon. Full moon. Trees swaying lazily in front of that glowing white orb. Slight mist in the sky. I didn’t hesitate, I ran straight back inside and grabbed the camera. I couldn’t see what I was framing, I had no idea of composition because the sky was pitch black and I was shooting at a bright moon (which was all I had to focus on) but I was loving the way I felt, the excitement, the inspiration. I loved that feeling of recognising beauty, seizing the opportunity, and capturing it forever on memory card.

 

Not great, but that’s not the point. The point is, I’m loving the way this is making me take a new look at things. I’m seeing beautiful things everywhere. Rock walls are interesting when the afternoon light falls on them. Wooden stairs are beautiful when you stop to look closely at the grain. I never noticed what types of flowers we have in our block until now. I’m loving the way I feel my creative juices flowing again.

Also, I love reading blogs with photos to complement the text, and I’ll be trying to include more photos in my blog posts from now on. You have been warned!

One step forward, two steps back

Just when I was starting to feel really good, and getting into a bit of a groove with my training, it all came to a grinding halt last week.

Last Monday, I kicked butt... morning interval jog on the treadmill, with an audience of two little ones, one cheering me on, the other grizzling in his walker.  Kidlets went down for their afternoon nap, and I kicked butt again with a leg session.  Except I haven't trained legs for... oh I wanna say months... but lets face it, its probably been over a year since I did anything resembling squats, lunges or deadlifts.

So, realising this, I went really light with the weights I used.  Finished the session feeling wobbly, but really pleased with myself.

Then of course, I could barely walk from Tuesday onwards.

And I also picked up a stomach bug or something on Tuesday... started out with really bad indigestion, and progressed to awful stomach cramps, and running for the toilet for two days (and let me tell you, THAT is not fun when you have severe leg muscle soreness to boot).  I started to feel human again on Friday, but just extremely dehydrated and lethargic.  So I've rested.  I've slept.  I've needed it.

In my head, this all sounds like excuses.

I've come out the other side of this feeling really bloated.  Not sure if its the after effects of popping Imodium's like lollies, or the dehydration or what.  Not helped by all the dry toast I've been eating.  But anyway, I feel yuk. 

This week will be better, I can assure you.

Onward and upward

******************

Haircut

I got sick of the permanent pony-tail.  In my general rush to get out the door most mornings, I had slipped into MUNDANE-mode, choosing to slick my hair back into its comfortable, easy, no fuss, no-effort-required hairdo.  Every day, the same.

Well, you cant really wear long hair OUT, when you have a baby around - they just want to grab it and yank on it all the time.  Not to mention that it constantly gets in the way, hangs in your face and is generally annoying.

I had long been feeling slack, boring and uninspired.

So I got my hair chopped off.

Before:

Note: I never wore it out, I just did it like this for the photo

After:

Front view, still giving the illusion of length

Back view: ALL GONE!!  EEEK!

Ok I'm still getting used to it, I was slightly freaked out when it was first done, but I like it now, and hubby apparently likes it too - phew!  Now the only problem is that I need to find time to actually blow dry it every morning!

Cant stop buying


Do you have little “addictions” to things, things that you cant stop buying?

I have come to the realization that I have a little addiction to buying nail polish.

I already have a pretty impressive collection of colours. I’ve just counted over 45 bottles of regular nailpolish in my little black box.

But since having Koby, I need to wear quick-dry polish, since I don’t get the luxury of painting my nails and then having a good couple of hours to let them dry properly.  And yes, I must have painted nails, its a "non-negotiable" with me.

So I started a new little collection of quick-dry nail polish colours. I found a bunch on special at Target, and went a little crazy buying them. I now have an additional 24 bottles of quick-dry polish to add to my collection.

I may have gone a little overboard (you think?), but you can never have too many colours, can you?

They were on special, how could I resist?  So pretty!

In the past, I’ve had problems with a propensity to purchase sunglasses… because of my eyes. Due to extreme short-sightedness, I had eye operations a few years ago - and ever since then, I’ve bought sunglasses with gay abandon. When you spend the first 30-odd years of your life not being able to wear sunnies because of your thick, dorky prescription glasses, well, its liberating I tell ya. I literally cannot walk into a ladies fashion store without trying on all the sunglasses beside the counter. I have dozens. In my defense, I always buy the cheapies, until hubby finally relented this year and I got my first pair of Prada sunglasses for my birthday (but even then they were not ridiculously expensive ones)

I also have a slight addiction to lip balm. Must have one in every room of the house, one beside the bed, one in my handbag, one in the kitchen, one at the computer etc etc.

Do you have any little retail addictions like these?

I love

I love watching her eat popcorn.

Sometimes, while we wait for Koby to wake from his morning nap, we have popcorn. I like the home-made version with a microwave, brown paper lunch bag, a little oil and some sticky tape – add a sprinkle of herb salt and she’s good to go.

She’s a popcorn fiend… she devours it like theres no tomorrow – sucking down those salty, crackly little puffs of corn so hard that I swear that they barely touch the sides.

And the bonus is that it gives mummy a little time on the computer, or put a load of washing on. Combine a bowl of popcorn with Playschool on TV, well, mama gets half an hour to herself.

I love his expressions

Every morning when I go to his room and pick him up from his cot, his face lights up with joy. He’s all smiles and coos excitedly. He’s hungry and opens his mouth wide, searching for that satisfying flow of milk that he knows is coming, any… minute… now. Smacking his lips together in anticipation.

Can this boy eat? Hell yes he can eat. Now that he’s on solids properly, he’s making up for lost time. He never knocks anything back, and just when I think he cant possibly fit another thing in, I hand him a cracker or a toast finger, and he wallops that off as well.

His expressions as he grows and changes are just so beautiful. Its hard work trying to capture them all – you gotta be quick with the camera! Add some rosy-red cheeks due to teething, and he’s a heartbreaker for sure.

Here is his "Oh really?" expression:

I just cant stop kissing these smooshy little cheeks. This beautiful baby stage just doesn’t last long enough, so I’m making the most of this special time with him, right now.

  
I love summery dresses

I’m not usually a fan of skirts or dresses. Give me a pair of jeans or shorts any day. My reasoning has always been: if you wear a skirt, you have to sit like a lady. Yeah, I’m all class.

I only wear dresses to weddings.

But something has happened to me this winter. I’ve found myself scouring online stores, searing for summery dresses. And I’ve actually bought a few.

I have visions of myself wearing floaty, florally summer dresses, strolling along beaches with one kid on my hip and the other one running beside me – the wind whipping my hair around my face and a pair of cool sunglasses perched on my head. Maybe I throw in a twirl or two in these visions.

Yes there is something strange going on with me – I have never been a ‘girly’ girl, but here I am, suddenly wanting to be more ‘girly’. More and more I am trading my beloved black nail polish, for pinks and reds, and pastel colours.  More and more I'm swapping blue jeans for red ones.

Going to take these dresses and skirts to Fiji, and give them a trial run.
************

I'm also loving feeling my muscles again - its been a long time.  This afternoon I did a proper leg session, squats, lunges, deadlifts, pop-squats etc... on top of doing a treadmill walk/jog this morning... and oh my god are my legs telling me all about it now.  I suspect that I wont be walking too well tomorrow, but you gotta love that feeling!  7 weeks to go!

8 weeks

The thing about an upcoming holiday, is the flurry of activity that precedes it.

Fiji is less than 8 weeks away.

I lie awake at night sometimes, mentally coming up with about a zillion different things that I need to remember to do.

Find out about the power plugs… don’t forget to pack insect repellant… I wonder how much cash we’ll need… I hope the cat will be ok while we’re away… I wonder if I should take an umbrella…

 It falls to me to do all this… thinking… my husband just turns up. Seriously, he just packs his bag the day before, and leaves the rest to chance. Or, to be more precise, he leaves the rest to me. Why worry about all the nitty gritty when you’ve got a wife to do all the worrying for you?

So, I’m a list maker. Its just the way I am – and I feel a great deal better about things once I’ve started ticking things off the list. Chances are I’ll then add another 2 things to the list, but at least we’re getting somewhere.

But one big thing that we’ve both talked about, is the fact that we’re going to be on a beach holiday with friends. We don’t want to look horrible or pudgy in our swimsuits.

I’ve even bought a new bikini to wear (and may buy another one too before we leave) so I’m really needing to make a few changes here.

Now that Koby is sleeping through the night (touch wood!) and so am I, and I have been able to eat “normally” again, I need to get back into some regular exercise. I have seriously fallen off the wagon in this respect – I mean, I’m sorry, but when you’re utterly exhausted for months on end, well, I can tell you – I aint gonna train. Or eat well, for that matter.

But things are much better now, and I’ve been making some inroads to my fitness again. Largely thanks to gluten-free, I’ve lost all the “baby weight”, and in fact I did my skinfolds the other day and wasn’t too horrified with a 22% bodyfat reading. I reckon about 5kgs is about all I need to make me feel less “wobbly-mummy” and more “yummy mummy-ish”

Time to lift some heavy weights, throw some kettlebells around and get back on the treadmill again.  And make better food choices. 

So watch this space – bikini body here we come!!

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The cubby house

The cubby house has really taken shape over the last few weeks. New attractions have been added and built, daddy has slaved tirelessly to create this playground, this amazing space, for two very lucky kids.  As a final touch (for now), we have spray painted one side pink and one side blue - in time we will add a sign overhead, stating that this is "Skye and Koby's cubby".

Here's the entire structure:

I cannot wait to see them playing here with their little friends - I'm sure it will provide many years of laughter and enjoyment.    


My boots  

I love winter.  I love winter in Queensland especially.  It never really gets cold, some nights do get a bit cool-ish, but the days are still around 20 degrees C and gloriously sunny - nothing to complain about here.  Mind you, if it drops below 25 degrees I usually put a jumper on.   

What I also love about winter is jeans and boots.  I have these favourite boots that I got a few months ago, and I wear them just about every day.  I love them.  Is that a shallow thing to say?  That I love my boots?  

I'm actually going to be really sad when winter is over and it'll be too hot to wear them!  So soft and leathery, and comfy.  Boots that make you feel good, and are comfortable enough to wear all day long, are a beautiful thing.  So I'm gonna keep wearing them for as long as I can!  

Its the simple things that make me happy!

Happy Baby, Hell Yeah!

So, after 4 months of “unsettled baby” (as described on the referral to the paediatrician) we finally have a happy boy!

I don’t think I can describe the joy, the relief, the “oh my god I cant believe it” feelings that this brings. To have a little man who is finally comfortable, who is finally smiling again – all the time – well, its just so precious. I don’t think there is anything quite like having to watch your child in pain, miserable and in constant discomfort, and feel so powerless to fix it.

Being sleep deprived doesn’t help you cope, and I know I keep banging on about that. The pediatrician discussed with me the fact that a mother who is chronically sleep deprived is only separated by something like 2 points on the Edinburgh scale for postnatal depression. That’s when I started to cry… because I knew that I had to do something, to save myself. I had never felt so desperate, or alone in all my life.

Docs diagnosis: Colic – OR – an infant form of Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

I thought: “Colic - at 8 months –are you for real?”

He said “I’m one of those doctors who actually believes in Colic”…

He said: there is definitely something wrong, digestively. He also suggested that some of his problems stem from the fact that Koby has been unwell, in one form or another, for 4 months… part of his issues are the fact that he has come to depend on comfort from mama. He is waking, wanting me. This is a habit that needs to be broken.

And break it we did. Boy oh boy did we break him of this.

More on that in a sec…

Doc prescribed some medicine that needed to be made at a Compounding Chemist. Some drug that would help settle his digestive system.

I also casually mentioned to the doc that Koby is really “burpy”. Like, 3 hours after a feed, he’s still burping. He suggested we try peppermint water, to help bring the burps up. Now, I thought we’d tried everything with Koby, but I had NOT previously tried peppermint water.

Then I drove 30 minutes to drop off the prescription to the compounding chemist – was told it would be ready the following week.

So we went home, and got onto the peppermint water…

(Homemade – drop a peppermint mint or lolly into about 20mls of boiled water. Let dissolve and cool down. Administer with a dropper – about 2-5 mls before each feed - this lasts 24 hours for us, he's had it every day for the last week and a half)

That night was the worst night ever. I don’t think either me or hubby slept a wink. Koby screamed pretty much all night, he wanted comfort. When I tried to settle him, he just got more upset. So I just laid in bed and cried and cried, determined not to feed him to sleep, which is what he wanted. Hubby got angry, and then angrier with Koby. We stuck it out, awake all night, having deep and meaningful conversations at 4am… more tears, more frustration.

Next day, we moved him from the nursery (beside our bedroom) to his new bedroom, at the other end of the house. We knew he needed to cry and learn to self settle on his own (without us going in, as that just makes him angry) in a way that the rest of us were disrupted as little as possible -- so the move had to happen.

In the meantime, I continued to give him peppermint water.

And I put him to bed in his new room that next night, expecting the worst. And yes, he woke up 3 times, but he put himself back to sleep within 10 minutes each time.  Amazing what he can do when his tummy isn't bothering him.

Each night has improved out of sight, and within a week he started sleeping through the night, not waking at all… not feeding at night either…

And peppermint water? Wow. What a difference. I’ve since learned that peppermint is what they prescribe to patients with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Peppermint has a soothing effect on the digestive system. And Koby has stopped clenching his tummy, stopped being a bag of wind, stopped bringing his knees up to his chest, stopped being miserable in the middle of the night.

He has now started eating 3 big meals of solids per day, and already starting to gain weight.

I have even started eating gluten and dairy again, and he’s still happy and settled (despite having a headcold, and cutting another tooth this week!)

I had to go pick up the order from the compounding chemist, but so far it sits in the fridge, untouched. I don’t plan to use it at all, unless we have a major backslide.

And I cant describe how amazing I feel. Friday night I actually slept for 7 hours straight. I cant even remember the last time that happened. Incredible. Even more so because I've been suffering really badly from insomnia lately too.  But now I feel like I can be a good mama again, give my undivided attention, have some energy for my children, instead of being the exhausted zombie that I have been for so long. More than anything, I feel HOPE.

And its long overdue… Can I get a “hell yeah”?!

Love it, or hate it?

I’m not sure if anyone else has noticed this, but once you've been dating someone for a while, and it gets serious, there are a series of questions that people feel they must ask you – in this order:

      “Are you going to get engaged?”

Then once you are engaged:

      “When are you getting married?”

Then once you are married:

      “When are you having a baby?”

Then once you have had a baby:

      “Are you going to have another baby?”

It seems to go on and on, with no end to the personal probing from family and friends. Of course I’m guilty of it myself, and the other week when I caught up with a friend who’d just had her second baby, I found myself asking the familiar: “Are you going to have any more kids?”

Whenever I am asked that question these days, I pretty much recoil – hold my hands out at arms length and say “NO!! No more babies, I’m done!” LOL!

Much as I absolutely ADORE my children, NO - I’m not having any more.

Seriously though, we always thought two was perfect. The fact that we have the pigeon pair makes the decision a lot easier. But somehow, I feel that even if we’d had another girl, we’d still be done. We confirmed it with each other over and over when I was pregnant with Koby, before we knew he was a boy.  We feel that our family is complete.

But when I asked my friend this question the other week, she hesitated. She said:

“I’m not sure. I always thought I’d have 3 kids, but to be honest, I don’t like what this pregnancy has done to my body… plus, well… I hate being pregnant”.

O_o

Wow – that thing that nobody ever says out loud - somebody actually said it. Someone, other than me, said they hated being pregnant… Did I actually hear that right? I actually rejoiced that she’d said it, and we had ourselves a good old whinge about how we both did not enjoy our pregnancy experiences and were so happy to have our bodies back to ourselves again once our beautiful babies were born.

There seems to be this unwritten law somewhere, that you never say that you don’t like being pregnant. Its an unspoken rule that you are meant to be radiant, blissfully happy and full of exquisite joy when you’re expecting. You are supposed to glow, feel amazing and full of wonder at every turn.

Random strangers smile at you at the shops, rub your tummy, reminisce with you about their own pregnancies… now and then someone will make a small complaint that their back aches, their hips constantly scream at them, or that they are so tired from getting up 5 times a night to pee – but it’s a given that even then, you’re supposed to be in raptures about being pregnant for the entire 9 months.

I enjoyed the first pregnancy more than the second, perhaps because I didn't have the added demands of a toddler to contend with. 

I did like some parts of being pregnant. Like knowing that I was creating life inside me. Like feeling baby move for the first few times (but I suppose I’m weird that I didn’t enjoy the constant movement, 24 hours a day). Playing “name that body part” towards the end…

Me at about 36 weeks pregnant with Koby... trying not to look as miserable & ehxhausted as I felt.

Once or twice, when I’ve actually voiced my opinion out loud, people always looked at me like I had two heads. I felt judged. It got to the point where I would just shut up and say nothing when other mums went in raptures about their pregnancy experiences, because otherwise I seemed to signal myself as an outcast, some kind of weirdo – perhaps not a good or deserving mother?

I’ve read many pregnancy and birth forums where once mums have given birth, they actually physically MISS being pregnant.

I’ve read many Facebook fan pages (for parenting magazines, Huggies etc) where they do pop quiz’s asking everyone about their pregnancy experience, what they loved etc. Not often does someone say they didn’t like it.

So is there something wrong with me and my friend? Does that make us bad people? Or are there plenty of others who feel like this, and just don’t say anything? Don’t get me wrong, I realise that I’ve been blessed beyond measure, twice now. And my kids are my world, I cant imagine my life without them now. But surely we aren’t the only ones who feel this way??