21/52

"Winter's coming."

We've been talking with Ellery about the seasons. He knows winter is coming - and rejoices in exclaiming it whenever there's mention of rugging up. We've been donning our woollens. Leaving the beach early as the dark and cold descend. And warming up with cups of tea. (He likes chamomile.)

It gets surprisingly cool here. Exposed to full coastal blows as we are. In a house built for Queensland summers.

We saw the first whales of the season this week, making their winter journey north to warmer waters. I can hardly believe it's our third whale season here! Our first season, he was newborn. On the tail end of the last season, he saw them for the first time. And now, as a soon-to-be two-year-old, perhaps he'll start laying down memories of these amazing creatures.

Thanks to everyone who commented on last week's portrait - I'm a bit blown away by the attention! (We are relieved that the night terrors have been short-lived, thus far.)

Joining in with Jodi's 52 project.

You can see the whole series of portraits here.

gripe

If lack of sleep is associated in any way with higher than average intelligence, as I have heard, then our child is EXTREMELY GIFTED. Though I suspect this is just an ego-petting line in the vein of 'if you suffer from morning sickness your baby will be healthy'.

I feel like we've had more than our fair share of sleep issues.

Catnaps. Nap rousings. Nap refusals. Extremely-late-in-the-day naps. Way-too-long naps. Will only be fed/rocked/driven to sleep naps. Nap wakings that set off seismic monitors along the Eastern Seabord. Bedtime refusals. Night-time wake-ups to the power of this-has-become-my-entire-life-for-gods-sake-just-sleep! Three AM starts. Five AM starts. Five AM starts. Five AM starts. And in the last week, night terrors. (Plus the usual chorus of wake-ups, nap refusals and early risings.) 

When I think back on his nearly two years of life, I recall small spells when the sleep was good. Meaning he only woke up twice at night. 

I am clawing out my eyes through lack of sleep, exhaustion, end-of-my-tetherness. And I am the (only) sound-sleeper of the three of us.

I want my evenings back.

Cancel that.

I want some time back at the end of the day without being so burnt out that I can actually do things.

I am pretty much down to feeding him once during the day - in a quest for a daytime nap - and at nighttime wake-ups. I have had an intense urge to wean. But then I think about the trauma it would inflict on him and give up the idea as fanciful fluff. And there's the small issue of how I'd get him to sleep... though in a very recent development I've had some success with guided meditation at night.

I probably could have just posted a very long uuuurrrggghhhhh. And spared you three minutes.

I am biding my time. And hoping his current spell of angst dissolves. Pronto.

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Oh and Blogger, why doth you change your font size settings so?

20/52

Even in the biggest landscapes his focus is on the detail.

An afternoon exploring the sand dune country nearby. He was such a trouper and did a lot of meandering walking. And running! He absolutely loved it.

I love the way he stops in his tracks to notice a seedpod. Plays peek-a-boo with his shadow. Names sheoak and banksia. Does his little 'funnywalk'. He even slid down a rather large dune - not bad for the kid who doesn't really do playgrounds.

It's been another hard week. He has been having night terrors, though we had no idea what they were. It's such a relief to name them. And to be able to do things to prevent them. His have been triggered by over-tiredness. There's a lot of frustration and developmental growth going on too.

It all makes me really, truly appreciate the calm. The sometimes quiet pottering in the kitchen or the garden. His happy banter. And especially his mimicry: 'Oh dar-wing!' or 'Oh mi-tter, mi-tter!'

Joining in with Jodi.

You can see the whole series of portaits here.

19/52

He is all hair and frustration.

We have had a hard couple of weeks, he and I. 

His frustration at not being able to do what he wants is bubbling over when he wakes from naps. Cue seismic meltdowns and sabotaged afternoons. 

I am trying to do even more to encourage and reaffirm his blossoming independence. But really, when you're not quite two, you don't have terribly much of it.

And that is making life hard right now for this headstrong fellow.

(I have no idea where he gets it from.)

Joining in with the always inspiring Jodi.

You can see the whole series of portraits here.

18/52

Hello pelican!

Oh Autumn, I love your white light and icy sea blues.

I am so glad to be home after four long days of provisioning in the city.

After unpacking and putting away our month's supplies, we celebrated with a quick jaunt along the shoreline at our local.

You can't really tell, but he is full of cold. We came home from the beach and made chicken soup. From fish stock and miso, with two types of seaweed. He told me it was tasty! Here's hoping it'll pass quickly, and the rest of us weather through it.

Joining in with Jodi.

You can see the whole series of portraits here.

17/52

These two.

It looks like he is being admonished, but they have just separated from a kiss.

I was not at all enamoured of any of the (decidedly few) shots I took this week, and am growing desperately frustrated with my camera woes. Not to mention the internet woes which have prevented me from working towards a fix for my camera woes. I wasn't going to post this - too blurry. But a quick drag of my heels fumble around Lightroom may have just saved the day. Let's call it dreamy?

Charlie Brown from out of town - one of our many names for him - turned 21 months over the weekend. This is where I would usually say 'that means 19 months', but I feel we're done with the two-months-behind thing. He is 21-months-going-on-seven, talks like a three-year old (or more?) and has suddenly discovered his imagination. The day I took this, he told me he saw a hippopotamus outside our window.

It has been a hard few days with him. We have both been moody. He is bursting at the seams for independence, and has been on a hair trigger. 

I have tried to be zen about many things. 

Oddly enough, my zen runs inverse to requirements. The more serious the situation, the more levity I command. The fishing sinker he wouldn't release from his mouth? The floury asbestos in his paw and the military game of persuasion to get him to wash his hands?

Zen!

Instead I lose it watching our precious rainwater gushing down the sink, and our hard-won food plants being torn to shreds.

I am on a learning curve too.

16/52

Sunset light on an uncharacteristically slow weekend for us.

We spent a long, leisurely weekend.  In between visits to the beach, we pottered at home and in the garden. The weather has been divine: warm days, gentle breezes, cool nights. 

Usually we'd be spending most of our weekends travelling to the city (six hours one way) and rushing from appointment to supermarket to wholefoods store to here, there, and everywhere else in between. And home again, whereupon we launch into The Great Unpacking. 

This fortnight we stayed home. It means a month-long stretch on our little corner of island paradise. A drive to the boat for a fruit and veg delivery. And a weekend of rest and domesticity. Just what I've been craving. I really want to simplify this life remote. I think this alternate fortnight at home thing provides the perfect balance.

This week's portrait was taken on the sandblow behind our house. Before he took charge of Daddy's 'cwam-ewa'. He is really into the whole camera thing. Little child of ours. I am really starting to see us both in him. In his looks, interests and personality.

And yes, his fringe is growing long! Little windswept beach boy. The weeks and days to two are becoming few!