three

You can show me how old you are on your fingers. You know both your addresses. And you've just learned to blow bubbles (though the candles on your cake were blown, with a sigh, 'ffffff'). 

You are complicated. Playful, articulate and loving. Highly sensitive. With a big personality.

You have an ocean of feelings within. Moody like a teenager, cantankerous like an old man, tender like the kind-hearted soul you are.

Since the heady days of two-and-a-half, you have been testing us to the edges of our sanity with your moods and tantrums.

Now you're testing your physical skills in every way possible too. You have little time for crafting these days, but when you do make something, you thrill in pulling it apart.

You love looking after your little friends, your arm often around a shoulder, guiding. Loathe to bathe yourself, you dabbed a serviette about Miss-Not-Quite-Two's chocolate cake smeared mouth at your party. Yes, you're quite partial to little girl friends.

Make believe games are where it's at. You like to play shop-keeper while I change your brother's nappy. Or, 'Mum, pretend you're a whale'.

You love bacon and chips and popcorn, but not the 'bones'.

Sometimes I look at you and wonder how you got to be so clever. You come out with things I have no idea how you acquired. You use words like 'plateau' correctly. Sometimes you call me 'darling'. And the question 'How did you make me?' is on high repeat, with much probing about just exactly how.

For all the ways you spin my heart entirely off its axis, I'm forever thankful.

2012, a small treatise

I used to write unpublished treatises to the year gone, just before it slipped away. Catalogues of major events - real and internal - to ponder over, learn from and laugh at before starting anew. And of course to snap-freeze my memories as the years elapse. I'd spend days trawling through my mental archives. Post-child, I've got about an hour. So the following may not be truly reflective of the year that was, but it's what I can retrieve right now.

So much of my 2012 is about the boy. In this short year, he has gone from a babe in arms to sitting, crawling, walking and now running and talking up a storm. He is now quite the conversationalist. Sits at the window taking in the walking track and commenting 'People? Nooo!'. Has mastered the possessive: 'Daddy's bee-ya' as well as his name: 'Ew-ewy' and home address: 'light---house'. His vocabulary is pretty impressive for a 17-month-old who should be 15 months.

And his personality shines. He is an observer, a sensitive little comedian. Just like his 'Daddy-hahaha' - what he often calls K. He is quite worried lately - about people that hurt, large noises and the three little ducks song (because the ducks go away, presumably). He is spirited and loves a joke. Still loves eating bark and cardboard ('yum--mmeee') and at some point chipped his front tooth (again, presumably) chewing on a rock. He is obsessed with tractors and things that go. He is thoroughly his Daddy's boy. He can blow bubbles in the water. And oh and the messes he can make!

Today there is no hint he was born early. He is done with the follow-up group sessions at the Children's Hospital to check his development, though I think we have one paediatric follow-up left, just so they can officially close their file.

In other realms, my return to work this year has been so much better than I ever imagined. I always thought I'd want to be a stay-at-home mum. (And maybe I would if I had the time, free hands and proximity to do the things I imagined I'd be able to do - creative kid stuff, going places, play dates, etc.) Aside from the financial imperative, I badly needed to reclaim something for myself. Although there has been some flailing in unfamiliar waters as I work alone to remake a piece of legislation, it has mostly been good. I also managed to hang on to my job when thousands of public servants didn't. I have totally appreciated that I have an amazing arrangement and feel continually grateful for this. Without it, there would be no work for me.

The year has not been without qualms. I have battled somewhat to just feel OK. I got over PND. But the endless picking up / carrying / feeding a seriously heavy baby-now-toddler has made my neck and shoulders perpetually sore. I have the upper body of a swimmer and the lower body of a small bowl of trifle (I can hear - yes hear - K rolling his eyes about now -- nevertheless this is how I feel after 17 months of not much exercise). Despite prioritising yoga and walking in any snippets of free time I have, maintaining restoring wellness has been like trying to plug the bathwater with a shred of old clingfilm. I feel like my eating has also deteriorated. Scoff if you will.

I have really not had much social interaction at all this year. I have never been someone who needs a lot of contact with friends, but the little interaction I did have pre-baby has dropped to almost nothing. And I miss it! It has just been too difficult to manage visits during our crazy-hectic mainland trips and my terrible-ness on the phone has deteriorated thanks to virtually no real solo free time. I even managed to make Christmas cards and then lose the stamps in our stuff-everywhere scenario on return from the mainland. Sigh.

Realisations. Life with kid is hard. Or maybe it is just our life, this crazy life remote we lead. Which is HARD, although we have become logistical ninjas. Often can be heard in our house the refrain 'why is it so stressful?' I don't know why we imagined it would be anything other. I hope it gets less so. It has really taken its toll on us. How do other people do this? I guess I also realise that it will continue to be hard. It just is. Contemporary families, life and work make it much more difficult than it ever was meant to be for anyone. I am grateful for these realisations. And the perspective I seem to have gained. It wasn't so easy to see in the baby bubble that we were making a family. Duh. But y'know, massive sleep deprivation and vomit will blind you to the bigger picture. I'm also utterly grateful for the help we have in the form of our au pair. I often wonder what we'd do without her (the answer is probably not a lot of housework, in which case I'd go quietly-at-first-but-then-loudly-screamingly-mad).

So yeah, year. In many ways you kicked our heads. But it was equally mind blowing watching our boy grow. And to live at the beach, despite its challenges!

For next year, I wish for myself to be more laid back about everything generally. And better to him. The less said about that the better.

I also wish to somehow manage to return to writing. Which will take a correction of our fantastically-abysmal-for-the-last-parts-of-2012 internet (now renamed in this house as 'the cobwebs'), and some gentle restructuring. I think I need to tweak our night routines to get some regular decent free time. Of course this is all completely hypothetical, what with some massive sleep refusals and super-clingy-moodiness going on in the past week, with bedtimes around 11pm, and one cracker at 2am. (I'm talking about the boy of course, though naturally it follows that these are our bedtimes (and moodiness!).)

I'll try less to look at other bloggers who are doing ridiculously creative projects - on top of their blogging - whilst toting equally small children, and wonder why the hell I can't even get through breakfast unscathed. I'll still create – I'd really love to do this – but try not to beat myself up if it goes to slush.

I plan to sleep more and relax more. I've frittered away untold hours just bumbling about because I am too tired to do anything purposeful despite my insistence to try.

I'll try to find ways to reconnect with friends. Eat better. Stress less.

And now I'm sounding like a broadcast ad for nicotine gum.

I would like to try to think with a fresh head (see 'sleep more').

And be more positive.

I can do that.

I hope the new year is good to you.

the final word

This will undoubtedly be the final cataloguing of the boy's words, as he is acquiring them so rapidly that it will soon defy my record keeping ability. I realise that other than K and the three Grands, I'm the only one who is interested in this, so if you are not them, feel free to shuffle along... 

Spoken words at 16 months (14 months adjusted), in addition to these words:

no (newly acquired and on high rotation, with accompanying full-body turn-away)
yes
more ('moo-ah')
please ('peas')
oops ('utz' as in klutz!) 
uh-uh (for anything he isn't allowed to touch)
wow! (said like a little Iowa corn farmer, thanks to...)
Libby (sounds like 'hippy', which our au pair happily accepts as a fair definition)
hot tea 
yummy
cup
honey ('nunny')
blueberry
apple
cheese
rusk
egg (he just pronounces the 'gg'... when he is learning words he often just pronounces the final syllable) 
Vegemite (ironically enough, said as 'mate')
eat
laundry (he really helped with it for the first time today, by passing me the nappies from the basket!)
nappy ('marpie')
pee
poo
potty
paper
booby ('beebee')
on (he'll sit by the door and put his shoes near his feet and say 'on', 'on' when he wants to go outside)
afternoon ('noon' - when Daddy gets home)
minute (as in 'just wait a minute' - sigh)
day
dark
green ('neen')
bumblebee ('mumbee')
snorkel ('mokbel')
boot
baby
rock
buouy
slippery
sandy
pit (for firepit or sandpit)
moon
garden
sunny ('nunny')
sunnies ('nunnies')
undies
eye
tiger
giddy-up
my
bathroom ('ba-mmm')
city
either (odd but he just started repeating it today)
music
that
hurts
drain ('narn')

Proud much? You may find me again in the comments supplementing with any words I have forgotten ;)

in conversation

Today he is 15 months old. Sometimes I wish he'd stayed smaller longer. (And to those who say it goes too fast, try witnessing your baby put on s-i-x times his weight in the first year!). But gosh I love the older him, and he is visibly older every day. This morning he picked up a block and told me it was 'neen' (green). I asked him if he wanted to play with his beads and he told me 'bzzzz' (bees!). For lunch I asked if he wanted some chicken sandwich. He replied: "buk buk!"

Where did this little colour-recognising comedian come from? 

He makes me laugh and melt and gasp all at once. It astounds me how much he understands. And his mental leaps! He says 'nunny' (honey) when I pour sand! The sink is a 'ba' (bath), the toilet is a 'ba' and an empty bucket is a 'ba'. He parrots our conversations. His vocabulary has grown exponentially since my last post. He is always listening. Usually while he is busy doing something.

Yesterday he put countless hours of hand-held walking practice into motion and got going on his own. It's so lovely to see him finally have the confidence to do this! Though he was wailing worriedly as he went the first day. And then this afternoon, he didn't want my hand...

I didn't get a decent photo or video of his first steps. I wonder, if I could record our time properly, would it all slow down a bit? Or would I at least be more at ease with the quickening?

wordy and walking

We had a follow-up appointment earlier this week with the Children's Hospital paediatrician, who asked me how many words Ellery says. I estimated 5-10, but on reflection, he says heaps more and has recently become very much a parrot. And it is nothing short of phenomenal how much simple conversation he understands. So, for posterity, here's the words he uses now, aged 14-and-a-half months (so 12-and-a-half developmentally)... funnily some words he used to say (guitar) have disappeared.

Mum (strange because it is not 'Mama' or even 'Mummy', which are the names we use)
Daddy (which he also uses to describe any person, regardless of gender or age, or alternatively a tractor, quad bike or car because he associates these things with K. Heads and shoulders his most-used word, apart from the universal 'nar-na' which we take to mean 'look at that - tell me what it is!')
up
cheese
keys
windy ('dindy'... so cute!)
man (all people are 'man'!)
duck
banana (all fruit is called banana, don't you know!)
nanna
hat
tractor
star
car
knee
ear
me
bye-bye
bath ('ba')
broom
boom-boom (this is in a few of his books and he loves it, and bizarrely also uses it for window!)

He also makes the following sounds when prompted:

tractor/car/truck (the boy is obsessed - anything with wheels goes 'brrm'!)
monkey
bee
snake
tiger (his roar is more a meek 'ra')
lion (same noise)
crow
seal (claps hands)
cat
dog (pants)
zebra (sipping a drink, like in Hello Baby!)
wind / ocean (much the same)

Oh, and he got gold stars all round at the paediatrician, which was no surprise to us, though it came with a caveat that learning difficulties can show up years down the track. At this point, I'd like to refer the doctor to the above list. And, oh yeah, he has taken his first very tentative steps too (his confidence is jittery, his legs and balance are great).


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*Excuse me while I repeatedly bang my head against a wall at stupid hours experiment with the blog layout. Because, you know, I've got a thousand less important things to do with my time than amateurishly tweak the html...

au pair

I have hovered here a few times lately and not known where to start. I have fallen off the blogging horse. Given in to tiredness, end-of-day-brain-fuzz and the never-ending night-time settling / early rising (which seems to suddenly lift and then... whack-tumble-splat, another wonder week).

I have wanted to write for ages about life with a live-in au pair. Which has worked out a lot better than I could have hoped. I dragged my heels completely on the whole issue, but in the end it was the only way I could have returned to work (and we needed me to for many reasons), which I am doing now part-time via a telecommute arrangement. *I've got a golden ticket!* Yes, I completely realise how lucky I am in the work stakes. I have a hugely supportive boss (and executive director) who I have worked with for several years, who trusts me implicitly and has herself telecommuted way back when her kiddo was younger. Returning to work has also been great for my head, to give me a bit of breathing space. I have also recently managed (for the time being anyway) to hang onto my job when vast sections of the permanently employed public service in this Neanderthal state are marching out the door. I'm just hoping my luck continues.


So the au pair. I had dreaded sharing our space, and all the stuff of family life that inhabits it, and having to be sociable when I want to just be in my cave. But overall it has been really positive, and is sort of like the old travelling/sailing days. We're onto our second au pair already, after our first finished her three-month stint. Though I still do a lot of domestic work and commandeer the boy when I'm not working, the extra hands around the house has been nothing short of bloody fantastic. I think I got lucky with a boy who demands a lot of attention and doesn't like to nap on his own (and some of my own stupid high moral ground about no TV), so every day was a battle to get even just the bare minimum housework done, manage to feed and caffeinate myself AND fully engage with him.

The help with chores is freeing me up a bit and I am mostly managing to get some other stuff done - though I find a lot of this other stuff is all about him! Like keeping him clothed and shod, reading up on kid-stuff (devouring this site), procuring toddler chairs and potties (!) and organising photo prints (we didn't have any beyond his humidicrib days (!!), prepping activities, war-planning our missions off the island and keeping our household administrivia at bay with a big stick. I still need to get back into yoga and walking - these have slid quite a bit since I returned to work in August.

As great as it's mostly been, I have also suffered a bit from the guilts at having help. About having someone else helping with the boy, even though we have tweaked our routine so he spends most of his time with one or both of us. (Though having someone new here has been brilliant for Ellery - he has LOVED both of them and will sometimes choose to go and hang out with them.) And also it is just plain weird (though indulgent and utterly lovely, why do I even have guilt about this?) to have someone else be the dish pig!

Despite the current super-clingy and unsettled wonder 'week' (and a kimchi that is going to take me at least three days, not including fermentation, to prepare - but that's another story) I can sense that things are slowly getting easier. There is still a ridiculously huge amount of work that goes on behind the scenes to keep us living the life remote - and so much stuff that doesn't get done. But, y'know, it's getting better.

one

 

 

 

 

And then he was one!

The Grands, Nana and Uncle R congregated for a weekend of birthday festivities. The present-opening went on for days. Admittedly, I bought way too much. (Oh, how far I have strayed from my intention to be a minimalist parent ;)) His birthday loot included a djembe and assorted percussive instruments, an amigurumi rabbit, a bus scroll birth announcement poster (better late than never), blocks, a large wooden crane, a ride-on trike with trailer (possibly the same model as K had at a similar age), a Keptin Junior boy doll (adore the way he talks to it), a wooden pull-along Very Hungry Caterpillar, a wooden pull-along shimmying alligator, a bevvy of books (including a signed book from one of his publisher aunts), Duplo, a bucket and spade set, bath toys, clothes, a hand-me-down block trolley from my toddlerhood... a lighthouse (of course). I'm probably forgetting something important.

Ellery got to wear his safari suit, though K forgot to haul one of his own out of storage for the occasion.

There were funny hats. There was cake. We won't talk about the deliberation over appropriate cake choices for an actually-only-10-month-old. In the end I made a sugar-free, egg-free, still-amazingly-delicious banana cake with whipped cream. It was mostly just smashed on the highchair tray after some bemusement about what it all meant :)

We've had a run of brilliant weather and spent lots of time beachside. He even had a little paddle at Champagne Pools (how appropriate). In winter!

It seems like almost overnight he has morphed from baby into toddler. In the past six weeks, he has acquired a whole new set of skills and language. Maybe it was the wonder week that went on for months, but he has seemingly added loads more to his repertoire than ever before.

He is all about walking... or practising, with his hands held. He has the cutest little walk run gallop. Cue visions of me running everywhere in the not-too-distant future. He even tries to walk up things: walls, pot-plants, eskies. His favourite place to walk to is the laundry. He is enthralled by worships the front loader. Seriously, if I let him, he would spend all day with his nose in its orbit, pointing at its porthole door and looking from me to it with the most sincere look of amazement whilst uttering his universal word ('na-na') at intervals. (Oh and he must watch the vacuum cleaner when it's on. Now our au pair is here - another post - he's at last seen it function!) And he is known to cut repeated (repeated, repeated) laps of the metre-long lambswool rug on our circuits of the house.

It's like all the big motor stuff is coming together for him, as he's all of a sudden a pro at rolling (and will do so on request, over and over and over) and does a not-too-shabby job of backwards crawling, which ends in tears when he butts up against a wall.

He recently learnt to clap his hands, and will even stop walking to do so, if you tell him he's clever. He only needs half a bar of 'If you're happy and you know it' to get going. He has also just learnt to wave goodbye - though it looks more like a flurry of chicken wings. And point.

He is imitating words like the clappers... he has said 'dadda' for ages and can now 'say' pandanus ('nan-nanna'), banana ('banana'), star ('are'), car (was 'are' but is now just 'brrrm'), guitar ('g-ta')... can meow, woof, baa, brrrrmm for car/tractor/vacuum cleaner, 'aa-ah' for monkey, laugh like a kookaburra and caw like a crow. Still not great on mama. He understands more words too: up, apple, tummy, lighthouse (of course), grass, roll, monkey, Jade (our au pair) and probably more I can't remember right now. We did start teaching him baby signs ages ago but unfortunately let it slide.

It's only fairly recently that I realised, through reading up on a forum, that premmies can often have big developmental delays and other significant problems, beyond those that were screened for before he left hospital. Though no issues were noted at any of his follow-up appointments at hospital, he was observed to be 'a bit passive' (their words - we prefer chilled!) in his play. I think he is making up for it now.

He also has a total of at least six teeth, at last check, and more on the way.

So yeah, a lot happening in his little world. Sleep for us has been intermittently OK, with large patches of OMFG. But it's a footnote really. He just completely rocks our world every day.

Eh, there is so much more I want to capture. The way he puts his head right up close into a book to inspect a detail... his love of books ❤... the obsession with eating grass/sand/cardboard/flowers...  the way he gauges distances with an outstretched arm... faceplants the highchair tray... dances... knows very definitely what he wants and where he wants to go... and this face...

 

I can't possibly imagine what he'll be like in another year. The mind boggles. I just know it will involve a lot of running around ;)

toof

After months of frustrated dribbly chomping, it seemed like it would never arrive. And then it finally came through! A few days shy of eight months (six months gestation). Naively, I thought that might relieve some of his discomfort. I should have known. It seems there are others following closely behind. Though, happily, we've returned to our semblance of sleep. He is back to settling reasonably well for the night -  we had wake-ups every 40 minutes after going down, for a few hours - and sleeping through, with one or two dreamfeeds - he had been waking every one to two hours for more weeks than my bleary brain can count. We've also welcomed a cooling in the weather which has been absolute bliss. We can now venture outside during the day without sweltering, and without it aggravating his reflux. Which, being aggravated by stress generally, has also benefited from the tooth arriving and the temperature drop. And it is getting lighter later, which seems to be helping him sleep longer. No 4am or 5am starts for about four days now. Hooray! This is the good stuff!

Pics of the toofy grin coming when it becomes a bit more visible. 

big

So I've mentioned before that E is big for his age. Even for his birth (not gestational) age. He's a few days shy of eight months old - so six months gestationally. I thought he was about the size of a twelve month old, going by clothes sizes - he's in zeros and ones now. Until we were accosted in our travels in Brisbane yesterday by a chatty three-year old, his two-year old sister and Mum. E was the same size as the two-year old!

Fast forward a few hours. We're at our GP who did a measure and weigh and checked his percentiles. He's now above the 97th percentile for weight. The chart ends at the 97th percentile. And he's somewhere around 75th percentile for length. She then proceeded to tell me he is obese. Her words. I was gobsmacked. Incredulous. And mad. Are you kidding me? How can a baby be considered obese? Sure, maybe if I was plying him with sugary snacks and letting him watch TV all day instead of having physical play.

We still do a combination of breastmilk and formula. In the past few weeks, we've tried the occasional bite of fruit or veg, but his gag reflex is still strong. Yes, he is fed on demand. Yes, he eats a lot. No, I do not blindly stick a bottle in his mouth every time he cries. If he won't be settled, I try milk and usually discover that yes, he was hungry.

Behind a number of suggestions given to me by the GP was the inference that I feed him too much. I know formula-fed babies don't regulate their milk intake as well as those exclusively breastfed. And they are generally bigger. But I refuse to let him go hungry because he doesn't fit a norm. She also suggested his reflux might settle with less milk. After coming back down to a simmer over the past 24 hours, I can see why this makes sense. But what he drinks is more problematic than how much he drinks. I know this because he'll vomit his first small formula feed of the day when he is eating on an empty stomach. I give him smaller feeds because of the reflux. (I've also tried fewer larger feeds, out of desperation that something might help). The reflux and feeding is a vicious cycle - the more he vomits, the more he wants to feed to soothe himself and replace the milk he lost. 

She also suggested that maybe I am making more milk than I think. I can put a ballpark figure on how much milk I think my body makes, with 95% certainty. Assuming he gets more than I think, he is still choosing to drink the amount he does because he is hungry or needs comforting!

It's not the first time our GP has commented on his weight and how much we feed him. Despite it making me fume, it also makes me second-guess myself. I came home and googled obesity in babies, and read some interesting but inconclusive studies. But I keep coming back to this. He is appropriately chubby - no one comments on his size until they know his age. He is also very long - but then so are his parents. And hey, we are also both pretty slim and eat very healthily, so I think his chances for turning out the same are pretty good. Call me old-fashioned, but babies are meant to have fat. It fuels their awesome growth. Some will have more, some less. This article has influenced my thinking a lot. I have tried holding off feeds for as long as I can and it just makes us both grumpy and stressed. He is - apart from the reflux - healthy, and has been trending upwards on both weight and length charts since his birth. He started life so small that gaining weight was a good thing! (And no, I am not overcompensating for that.) We are grateful that he is happy and thriving.

I get the wider social context with rampant childhood obesity, but I really resent her judgement. And the term 'obese' in the case of a healthy baby is pretty severe judgement. I resent that Western medicine ideologies have to fit everything into a box of known proportions, rather than assess an individual holistically. Am I being overly sensitive? Perhaps. I'm reassured by K, who is there when E is ravenous and knows what it's like. Who counteracts my niggly self-doubts about this and many other little things and tells me what a great job we are doing as parents. Perhaps she never had a difficult baby. A very hungry baby. Would she make these judgements if she had?

Sadly, after this and a few other things rubbing us up the wrong way, we are on the hunt for a new GP.

And up

The last week and a half back on the island has been wholly good. Awesome even. And - halleluljah - I can't recall a low point.

Most afternoons we've been at the beach. And most days, I either do yoga or walk. Some days, both. That is, walk + yoga + beach. This is HUGE. And impossibly easy. I can't believe we didn't think of it sooner. After K gets home from work, I do a fast walk (with tunes) to the beach - and then maybe a walk on the beach, or maybe yoga. K drives to the beach and babywrangles whilst throwing a line in. (Fishing is his new thing - the beach is his always thing.) We mix it up different ways, some days I do yoga early while the boy sleeps. Whichever way it unfolds, it is brilliance, and we both get what we crave. We have been SO much happier since this little routine evolved. 

And. I have been getting way more stuff done during the day. The boy is sleeping better (read: normally, ie, when he isn't awoken by the need to vomit/me clanging a pot/stupendous heat/etc, etc), and is ever-so-gradually becoming more okay with not being permanently attached to me. Yesterday he was happy to be in his Fantastic Standing Up Machine (an activity station we borrowed which he loves because he can assume a standing up posture and look around) for long enough for me to wash bottles AND make formula. Un. Precedented.

I also 1) rolled my first ever ball of wool to start the long-awaited baby blanket AND almost finished a paper crane mobile I started a year ago, 2) applied for federal monies that go along with having a baby and sussed out a tax issue that had been bugging me, 3) started updating our address details with the gazillion outfits that need to know, 4) placed a bulk order for cloth nappies, 5) bought a new wok, and 6) blogged, edited recipes and wrote emails back and forth to the ABC who invited me to have some recipes featured on the new release of their Foodi iPad app!! Woot! (This news alone did wonders for my general vibe and reminded me I have 'stuff' outside the babyhood.)

[Note: I have been trying for six months to get to most of these jobs. Further note: I probably did even more stuff which escapes me now. Final note: the feeling of momentum with getting stuff done makes me so happy I could pop (or at least stay up way too late to get more stuff done)].

As further illustration of how amazing this is, my days usually go something like this. Wake stupidly early, feed the boy. Put him in his chair while he's happy so I can make coffee/breakfast. Play with him, feed him, get him to sleep. The forty-minute 'stealth ninja' sprint begins and includes as much as possible from the following: get dressed and roughly cleaned up, wash and make bottles, do last night's dishes, keep the perpetual motherlode of laundry churning, try to keep a very large, open-to-the-elements house cleanish tidy liveable, eat lunch, make lists of things I must do but never seem to get to. If he's not sleeping well, the forty-minute sprint becomes a twenty-minute sprint with interruptions to get him back TF to sleep. He has anywhere between two and four sleeps a day. And sometimes I accidentally clang a pot and *bugger shit fuck* wake him.**

Our night time routines have also improved markedly in the past month or so. We are mostly eating dinner together now, which makes a lovely change from the tag-team affair that reigned for a long time after E came home from hospital.

I'm loathe to call it too early, but hey, I'm on a roll. This feels like considerable improvement. 


...

**This is why I haven't called/written to anyone/blogged and have struggled to do any yoga/walking for six months :)

Six months...

I can't believe we have a six-month old! (Six and half now... but meh.) Who should be only four months... and is, gestationally, so is doing four-month old things. Like...

Gurgling, babytalking, blowing raspberries, dribbling copiously, chomping on anything he can get his hands on... all of which may escalate to shouting as he grows impatient with not being picked up/being unable to explore the world around him/sore gums/?????

Laughing his full-bellied, delighted laugh, especially for his Dad. Even when K does something as simple as walk in the room. Which I think translates as... I ADORE my Dadda. (If I was a comic-sans, every-letter-a-different-colour, blinking ClipArt kind of person, 'ADORE' would be tizzied up thus.) I love this photo, even though it looks staged (it wasn't - just an afternoon at the beach, sitting on the tailgate... he didn't even know I had the camera).

Becoming shy around strangers, including his own reflection if he is feeling a bit grumpy/out of sorts.

He has recently developed an untamed 'rodeo' arm when on the boob/bottle. Hilarious.

And still sucks the air in his half-sleep after the boob/bottle is gone. Cutest. Thing. Ever.

Is happiest in arms. And happier still, high on one of our shoulders where he can see things best.

Has one long eyelash at the outer edge of his left eye that points down. Loveheart nostrils. The cutest little random dimple between his tummy and chest. Big 'little' toes that promise to pose problems for off-the-shelf footwear. And the sweetest little excitable pant.

Loves being read to. Though if he's in play mode, the words take a back seat to getting his mitts around the book.

Is most chilled out when outdoors. Absolutely. LOVES. The beach. And can be amused for a very long time by the old pandanus in our yard which make a papery sound in the wind (of which we have plenty).

Loves watermelon... but really mostly just has eyes for milk. Speaking of which. We've been blessed with one HUNGRY little caterpillar. There is no longer a need to explain his early arrival, as people's first reaction when told he is six months is something along the lines of 'OMG, he's huge!'. He's big. Twelve-month old kind of big.

I look at photos of when he first came home, or *gasp* from hospital days, and I cannot believe how small and skinny he was. He's put on eight kilos in six months... making him around 10kg now. I find it bizarre how I get stuck in the moment, almost unable to imagine him beyond now. When he was that small we never believed he'd be this big. And now it seems impossible that he will soon sit up unassisted, or crawl, or talk or ... stand. But hindsight tells me these milestones are only heartbeats away.

Oh civilisation, how I have missed thee

Just back from eight days in the Vegas. E and I travelled over on our own and K joined us after four days - our first real time apart with E around. A few minor travel stresses - eg, scrambling to connect the car battery while the babe screameth in the blazing sun, shoehorning him into a too-small capsule in a hot car, a non-sleeping baby for the first few days - but on the whole, really positive. 

 

I got a badly needed massage, haircut and counselling (useful but I nearly swallowed my tongue when I paid the bill), a visit to the craniosacral therapist for E, and some bricks-and-mortar retail therapy. (My online procurement now verges on embarrassing and is the butt of jokes amongst the rangers who collect our mail... though is totally reasonable given I did not shop for E when pregnant. And, hello, live on an island. But I digress.)

 

The city. We stayed with friends R + J and little M for three days. We walked every day and clocked up quite a few clicks to and from the local Fountain Lakes. I even had mini-conversations with other peeps-with-prams. I procured the boy some decent bibs (why oh why are they mostly all crap? and velcro, bane of my laundering life), more clothes (hello size one!), toys (sounding the death knell to our boycott of plastic toys) and a cute owl moneybox and even cuter fairtrade owl backpack. We borrowed a playmat - one of those types with the arches which you can dangle stuff from - and an activity station that he can sit upright in. Both of which he LOVES. Why I did not get these types of things sooner... *Bats head* Other purchases: a second carseat to follow the other recently acquired one, and a cot.

 

Some interesting stuff. The craniosacral therapist felt inside E's mouth and knew he didn't take a dummy. Huh. She said he had a very high palate. And because of that, probably wasn't drawing so well during breastfeeding. Huh. And that would affect my supply. Huh. Wow. She also said his gums were very inflamed. Which we knew. But at the back too. Hmm. Odd. This week molars, next week puberty? She also thinks he should have some relief soon from his reflux. We live in hope.

Our craniosacral visit was followed by a very satisfactory hour of book browsing and purchases at Riverbend and Lifeline in Bulimba, punctuated with caffeine and facilitated by a long-sleeping baby.

I also met up with a girl who was interested in donating breastmilk. At my fave cafe in Paddington, from the days when I lived down the street and around the corner. She had a little boy, the same age as E, and it was so good to chat about baby stuff with someone of similar ilk. We traded birth stories and ate breakfasts in the early afternoon. And the boy? Surprisingly OK - even smiling across the table at the other baby. Not sleep deprived/crying/a vomiting volcano/crazed with hunger/cranky/high maintenance as I'd feared. Holy crap! I felt human! And walked away with just over a full feed of milk for E. Happy!

What else? We had a visit to premmie playgroup at the hospital, which I've never been convinced we learn anything from, but we go anyway just in case. Got the boy registered with Medicare, FINALLY, after months of dodging inquisitions at the doctor's/hospital ("uh, we've just lodged the form..."). But most exciting, E had his first food - watermelon. Did his eyes pop out of his head or what? Totally not what I had planned but it just sort of unfolded at R + J's. Probably nice for him in the stupendous heat anyway.

 

And. Underscoring my reconnection with civiliation, the girls who were in my midwifery group are planning their first meet up. And kindly scheduled it to coincide with our next trip over! Will be my first official 'mothers group'.

And the learnings. Yes, I realised I have been way too isolated. That I can do this trip on my own. That it's hard work, alone or not. That I have a couple of willing babysitters that I totally need to call on. That the boy will refuse to sleep, and cry, and cry, and cry. And though I will also miss out on sleep, this is not too dissimilar to being at home. And EVERYTHING WILL BE OK. And I LOVE living on an island, at a lighthouse, away from people and the crazy, concreted, smelly, loud, shopping-malled world, but I also need people and the crazy, concreted, smelly, loud, shopping-malled world, sometimes. (But not too often.) And E does too. For all the non-sleeping, he thrived in new environments. He charmed people wherever we went with his huge cheeky grin and screechy giggles. And got to spend time with his Nana and other little people. 

It felt like we were away forever. The house is a festering mess, but it's good to be home. We picked zucchini and tomatoes and basil and rocket from the garden and had a late dinner of fritatta. The boy slept well but woke in the pre-dawn. Life chugs on. I will be taking mental health breaks more often, methinks.

The only way is up - or life in the land of vomit and depression

My aspiration to write here more regularly (dare I declare, weekly) has wafted into the babyland ether. Then there was an app without a 'save' function (wtf?) which wafted away my draft, leading to large clumps of hair being pulled*. At least I am holding on to my other new year aspirations - yoga and walking - thus far. I even did a solo walk to the beach, followed by yoga on the shore as the sun set and a rainbow fell upon our house! Has to be some sort of omen! (Bigtime thanks to K for the suggestion, and for baby wrangling.) Anyway, all those blog posts I quasi write in my head... poof, gone. So here's a list of sorts. Just a warning, what follows is not exactly bathed in positivity. Hint: look away now if this is likely to upset. The next one will be positive, I promise.

1. Sometimes I just long to put the boy in the pram and go for a long fast walk. Or even a short fast walk. Alas, we have one 'sealed' (and I'm being VERY generous) road, and that's our driveway. We do a bumpity cross-country meander down to the heli-pad most days, but oh, to burn off some energy with a proper walk. (The kind of walk I'm talking about is not the kind that can be accomplished with an almost-10-kilogram baby in the Ergo, though I do need to figure out how to put him on my back in it so he can look around.)

2. When I lament like this, I make myself look out the window. It's easy to become blase about where we live. Especially when some days it's hard to leave the house. For explanation, refer to roads issue (see point one), add vomity, heavy baby, stupendous heat and non-stop rain. 

3. Still frustrated by milk issues. And time issues, while we're at it. And just getting-to-grips-with-babyland issues generally. I badly need - and want - to get over it. I am booked in to see a postnatal counsellor.

4. Mothers' groups. After much fruitless trawling, I've concluded that being more active in the blogosphere is the only way I'll get to share with other mums of similar ilk. Unless I want to haul myself off to the city for this purpose, which is such an exercise in stress and anxiety that I would much rather put up with my existing stress and anxiety in the comfort of my own home. See point five. Also on this theme, wondering how to reconcile my two online selves, as I feel the pull back to this blog...

5. Trips to the mainland do my head in and deplete my already-thin reserves of calm. With all the appointments and extensive provisioning for The Life Remote, these trips usually result in a non-sleeping baby, stress and anxiety for us and a generally unpleasant vibe. I would much rather stay at home. See point four.

6. Our first date in six months, which I'd teed up a week in advance, evaporated due to a non-sleeping baby - and therefore, non-sleeping us - and general feelings of crankiness. Also see point five. 

7. Somehow, despite knowing all this, and having just returned from Brisbane, I'm going again tomorrow. Just me and the boy. For a flurry of appointments. I have no idea how I am going to carry all our stuff, drive the car and juggle a vomity baby. It will either harden me up for future solo-travels-with-a-baby, or turn me into a blathering hermit.

8. Maybe this should have been point one. Poor E still suffers quite badly from reflux and on a hot day, will vomit after each feed, in between feeds and just randomly - so pretty much all day. It is SO frustrating and depressing seeing him in distress. And spending vast lumps of time endless days forever feeding. We took him to see a craniosacral therapist who instantly helped his neck stiffness - he'd been almost unable to look left. Hoping this will also fix his now-very flat-on-one-side head. And of course the reflux, which we were told is exacerbated or possibly even caused by his spine being slightly twisted from his birth. Which impinges on the vagus nerve which has something to do with digestion. Anyway. It feels good to be doing something about it.

9. eBay! Oh joyous rapture! See - a positive! I'm sure the rangers all think I'm holed up here at the Cape whiling away the man's hard-earned. (Our mail comes via the ranger station - and luckily I have my own hard-earned for another six months.) Latest purchases: a happy hangup for the boy (I live in denial naive desperation of prolonging the daytime catnaps), three wooden Manhattan Toy things, some books and a fancy sleep-bag.

10. I'm not sure this list even makes sense. It's late, my thoughts are mud but I'm pressing publish anyway.

*Sorry if you got an email with a blank post... I'll spare you the tribulations of useless Blogger apps.

E's first Christmas

This Christmas was my first with K's family, and our first with the boy, who celebrated five months (three months gestation) yesterday with his first laugh out loud - so cute! 

Naturally it made sense to have Xmas at the Cape, free beach house and all. We acquired a tree from the *ahem* roadside and tizzed it up with ornaments made by E's great nana (!), including a crocheted angel. There was wine, a delicious 'pot luck' lunch where everyone made a dish and which came together exquisitely under our new (and very sandbagged to prevent it flying away) gazebo on the front lawn, heritage values be-damned. 

E was thoroughly doted on and spoiled by his nana, aunties and uncles and received all manner of softies, finger puppets, a mobile, bibs, clothes, Baby Banz, a Laura Veirs CD for kiddos, and signed kids books from his kids-book-editor aunty. Santa came through with a full length rashie and sunhat, as well as some funky jeans and Baby Legs. He also left a note for E (thanks to Uncle R who had a few more clues than K about parental duties in regard to S. Claus). The editor-for-an-edgy-Melbourne-publisher (the other editor in the family) heeded a not-too-subtle tweet about book cravings which are being presently devoured, and also curated some funky new music, a foodie calendar and TV viewing for us. We also received a Nice Bottle of Red, a new coffee pot and a proper cane picnic basket. A boon all-round!

Boxing Day, the wind dropped and we headed to the beach and lunched and swam in a tidal lagoon, where the boy tried out his new rashie. On our return, we wandered down the back to the Picnic Tables With a View, drank Pimms and scoffed various soft and moulded cheeses as the sky turned a golden pink. Very satisfactory! 

It all flowed very nicely, with kitchen elves making sure the cooking and washing up all happened with minimal input from me. And to top off the gains and festivities, the boy slept a whole NINE unabridged hours on Xmas eve. Woohoo! I am convinced by the new going to bed early routine (we had been quite laissez faire with bedtime, as E just seemed to sleep when he needed to as a newborn). 

The door will swing open again tomorrow for more visitors, just as we've bade the last of the Lusks fare-thee-well. 

*any errors are the result of attempting to post via iPad, and not the result of having consumed more alcohol in recent days than in the past year altogether.