The Adventures of Rochelle and Otis

Christmas is around the corner...

2011-12-14T09:42:00.001+11:00

But you wouldn’t know it. Otis thinks that perhaps the Snow Miser, a favourite villain from The Year Without A Santa Claus (the movie that saved my sanity when Peggy was a screeching newborn and Phil was on the other side of the world), is sending us some snow for Christmas. Temperatures are lucky to reach the low 20s, we see at least a little bit of rain nearly every day (usually its bucketing down), and winter clothes are still in rotation. Shocking stuff! Where the hell is my summer? As a pregnant woman, so many sensory pleasures are unavailable to me... The warm, sedated buzz that comes from a third glass of wine, the salty goodness of Christmas ham and cold prawns coated in garlicky aioli... But I was relying on feeling the sun on my back, smelling of sunscreen and chlorine and spending many a golden day at the beach. Not happening.

To add insult to injury, I have a Vitamin D deficiency, so I am actually supposed to be exposing my skin to direct sunlight, which is simply not possible! I am taking supplements to prevent #3 being born with rickets! What an odd, first world problem Vitamin D deficiency has become. Cover up to avoid melanoma, but not too much, to avoid rickets. It’s complicated...

This pregnancy hasn’t been kind to me. I am icing my pubic bone nightly, wearing a brace most of the time, and limping along with a bit of a forced smile on my face. Peggy still demands that I carry her and “hold her tight”, and anyone who knows her knows that she’s not an easy person to say no to. I am as tired as can be, but underneath it all I am getting very excited about meeting this little one. I can’t wait to sniff its little (big) head, and gaze into its eyes for the first time.

I had to have a scan at 26 weeks after feeling really ill for a couple of months and not really knowing why... The baby was measuring very much ahead of dates, with an exceptionally large head. The sonographer looked a little perplexed, but I know better... It’s in the genes. I graduated the other day, and the woman who was fitting my hilarious Harry Potter-esque tudor bonnet was stunned by the size of my head... Big head, big brain, right? We can only hope!

All the scan confirmed for me is that this baby is super duper cute...

#3 has been referred to by a few different names by O and P... Bobba Fett (from Star Wars, for those not the parents of a Stars Wars fanatic), Smudge, Sanga... But the names we’ve chosen will remain a secret until we make our big announcement... The pressure is on! How do you match Otis and Peggy? It’s not easy, but I think we’ve done it.

Nearly 2...

2011-10-31T13:09:00.002+11:00

My girl turns two in two days (and I turn 32, but I'm less fussed about that).

It's funny, it's not a case of "I can't believe she's turning 2". It's more "What? She not even 2 yet?"

Peggy was never really a baby, you see, and has never been content to act her age. She was throwing her little body down slippery dips before she could walk, ditching purees for regular food well before we expected, walking way too soon, speaking in sentences shortly after her first birthday, doing everything very much ahead of schedule. I used to fear I'd come across as bragging, but these days I accept it as fact - she's a clever little creature, cleverer than I ever was, and shows more awareness and understanding of her world than is demonstrated by some adults. What she did inherit from me is a dogged determination, explosive temeperament, and a capacity for love. She's also very practical and good at solving problems, which I think she gets from her Dad. No idea where she got her comic qualities from though... I do think she has a touch of her aunty Lani about her. She literally has Phil, Otis and I in stitches all day long.

She walks into a room and immediately all eyes are on her. It's not that she's an exceptionally stunning beauty or anything - she's very cute, but I think what it's really about is the whole package. The big almost-black eyes, the untamed Goldilocks hair, the assured walk, the grown up phrasing, the sweetest huskiest little voice you've ever heard, the constantly emotive facial expressions, the boundless energy, the golden skin. She's a bit of a star, I suppose. I guess you could describe it as charisma. She'll often latch on to a random person once she arrives somewhere - she'll make her selection and then almost seduce them with that little voice and a warm snuggle. No one can resist.

I am proud of how well-rounded she's becoming. Her brother's influence means that she loves Star Wars - cuddled her mini R2D2 figurine all night last night - and prefers to wear her Bob the Builder top to daycare over any other. She does love princesses though, and longs to do ballet like her cousin Isla. She's begun to really love reading, and will sit with her Maisy books for quite a while now, 'reading' lovingly to her doll Lulu, randomly pausing to tell Lulu off for not listening, making a mess or just generally being naughty. She really enjoys a good session on the swings, and if we ever discuss the park she'll start showing me her swinging action, throwing her little body forwards and backwards. She loves to build Duplo towers, sing nursery rhymes so as to comfort any sad-looking characters she comes across in books, 'write her name', shop - with her little trolley, a mountain of plastic food, as many dolls as she can cart around and the same number of bags - and to build cubby houses with her brother. Weetbix is her favourite breakfast food, blueberries are her preferred fruit, and she makes random requests for chocolate cake at least once a day.

She already adores her younger sibling. She pats my tummy gently, tickles it, and then asks to look at my boobs, and reminds me that they are for the baby. Once my boobs are out - at her request - she laughs, describes them as cupcakes, and then launches into 'Happy Birthday'.

She loves a cuddle, puts her arms up and shouts "UP TO ME!!", and reverts to baby mode for a few moments. I feel like she missed so much of her babyhood, and I love it when she puts on a baby voice and says "Mama, Mama", over and over.

She wasn't my first baby, won't be my last, but she's my Peggy. She's the only Peggy there is and I am so glad she's mine.

Otis and his pirate bag...

2011-10-05T14:29:00.002+11:00

I think I’ve blogged about the fact that these days I can sort of/kind of/ in a very novice sense, SEW. With a sewing machine. I’ve always wanted to be able to, and over a year ago now, I bought a machine and enrolled in a class. I couldn’t continue with the classes because, at the time, Peggy was still being breastfed and the timing was bad and it created mountains stress for everyone in our house. But the three or so lessons that I did manage to attend provided me with the ability to turn on the machine and sew a straight line. It’s amazing what you can create once you master these key steps!

I make skirts for Peggy and all the other little girls that I know. I can do shorts, but not as beautifully. So, feeling guilty about producing item after item for my Booroo and nothing much for my boy, I made him a very basic little bag with a long strap that allows him to wear it across his body. It’s made of a grey and black flannelette pirate fabric, and a long piece of red and white striped ribbon. Really easy, a monkey could do it. No skill required. And wouldn’t you know, it’s his very favourite thing. The fabric is going all pill-y and worn, it’s dirty and smelly because he’s only ever let it out of his sight long enough for a spin in the washing machine on one occasion.

He fills it with an assortment of odds and ends. He just keeps on adding to it, and, like Mary Poppins’ carpet bag, it has an amazing and deceptive capacity, given how small it is (about 20 x 20cm, at a guess). At the moment it holds:

A scrap of paper bearing my signature, which he specifically asked for
A tiny, stuffed Han Solo doll
An issue taken from his large collection of K-Zone, D-Mag and Mania magazines
A plastic cob of corn
My old mobile phone
A plastic screwdriver
A Duplo canoe
Pieces of bark
A small rock
A tape measure

Only a select few are allowed to view the contents of the bag. I think it’s only myself, Phil and Mum, really. Peggy’s banned most of the time, but if she’s really cranky whilst we’re driving along he’s quite good about pulling something out of it to entertain her.

Of course now, being the copycat she is, Peggy's got her own bag and is filling it with her own random assortment. But the boy definitely started the trend. And being nearly 4, his collection carries more significance, even if that significance is sometimes a mystery to the rest of us. It definitely means something in his mind.

How number three came to be...

2011-10-02T15:04:00.002+11:00

Well, I won't go into too much detail, never fear! As you may know, Phil and deliberated long and hard over how many children we felt would work for us. I had, and I guess continue to have, a bit of a fantasy of having four little ones. In my imagination I am able to embrace the chaos and the space on my lap magically multiplies. If I am honest with myself, I know that I am not cut out for mothering that many. I get too angry too easily, I do tend to despair over situations that other mothers are able to laugh about. And Phil, well, he can't quite work out how you hold on to three kids with only two hands, let alone four. So... three it is, for now. A vasectomy is on Phil's horizon.

We decided to start trying in May, which would mean that the earliest the baby could come would be February - right after my maternity leave entitlements kick in. Phil was hoping for quite a few months of actively "trying", me, well, I wanted it to happen quickly of course. And I suppose I had a feeling only a few days in that it had already happened, as I began a very relentless course of daily, sometimes twice daily, pregnancy testing. It was as if I believed that if I just kept testing, eventually that fat, glaringly blank, white space would turn into a pretty, promising, POSITIVE pink line. And it did.

My period was late-ish at that point, and I felt that heavy, leaden, unwavering tiredness that you can only know if you've been pregnant. Something was definitely wrong... Or should I say, right. I hated our old bathroom, found the bleach-resistant mould and cracked tiles repellant, but I'll never forget finally seeing a second pink line and feeling my stomach flip, standing right there amongst the debris of the kids' bathtime fun. I was pregnant, again, and probably for the last time. I was so happy, and yet already so sad that I'd never feel that same, indescribable, precious burst of joy again. I wanted to cup that feeling in my hands and never let it go.

My cycles had been strange, short, erratic, unpredictable. But an early scan predicted an EDD of 22 February 2012. Lovely. I've always liked the month of February. Another summer baby.

I've suffered again this pregnancy. Plenty of nausea, lethargy, hunger. Afew bouts of vomiting. Already my pelvis/pubis feels about to crack. My back's felt weak and worn. I have hairs sprouting in inconvenient places. But the joy in the kids' faces when they kiss my tummy and laugh at my nub-like belly button makes me feel all warm inside. And last week I saw my 19 week old foetus flipping around in my womb. I saw a perfect little profile, an Otis-like snub nose, thick, kissable lips. A little hand curling around the cord that joins us. And I feel so much love for this new baby, and so, so, so grateful to be growing another seemingly healthy little being.

Current O & P playlist...

2011-09-12T10:10:00.002+10:00

Would go something like this:

Bob the Builder (Can We Fix It?)
You Are My Sunshine (Known by Peggy as Sunshine)
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star ("Tinkle")
Baa Baa Black Sheep ("Baa Baa")
The Pirate Song ("Pirate")
The Otis Song (goes like this: Mummy loves Otis, Mumy loves Peggy, Mummy loves Otis Hammond, Mummy loves Peggy, Mummy loves Otis, Mummy loves Peggy Jane Hammond. Mummy loves Otis James Hammond. Mummy loves Girly Whirl Booroo/Booroo Girly/Peggaboo Janey. Mummy loves Otskin James/Otis Milotis.)
I Think I Wanna Marry You (Changed to "I think I wanna marry Boo")
The entire Justine Clarke reportoire, especially The Witches Ball
Theme songs to various ABC Kids programs - Fireman Sam, Lazytown, Gaspard and Lisa

Phew.

Yep, I know, I've been absent.

Life has changed in a few huge ways.

We travelled overseas as a family and made it home alive and happy... Big deal sucess.

We moved house. Currently residing in a cute little three-bedroom brick home. Happy.

And I have a 17 week old foetus growing inside me!

Will be back to backtrack when I can find the time...

My dairy queen...

2011-06-16T14:25:00.003+10:00

She loves cheese. Always has. Be it tasty, fetta, or a really pungent parmesan, she'll eat it by the handful. I classify it as a "healthy" snack, but really, it's full of fat and we all know it. Easier to just ignore that though, given how picky Peggy's become lately. I need to believe that cheese in abundance is good for her!

Lately, she's also been into milk. Requests it a few times a day, and can tell the difference between "Mummy's milk" (skim) and "Peggy's milk" (lite white). Ice cream has always been one of her favourite treats, particularly if it is of the "choc-ate" variety.

Peggy does not like fruit.

I purchase, slice and serve all types - mandarins, kiwi fruit (this is one she is anti than most, she'll at least have a lick), apples, pears, grapes... What else is there in June? I a hoping that once summer comes around and berries and magoes are back in rotation, she'll start a new love affair with those. But I've all but given up on the current fruit selection. I know that you are supposed to keep going, keep trying, keep believing that they'll eat the things you want them to, but really, short of holding her nose, I do not seem able to get her to open her mouth when fruit is on offer.

Cheese is just... easier.

Cheese, and dry Weetbix. These are Peggy staples. With milk on the side.

Dummies.

2011-06-04T20:01:00.002+10:00

Hmmm. One of the most frequent discussions I've had with other mothers of young babies is the Dummy Chat. Do you give one? At what age do you give it? When do you get rid of it? How do you limit its use? Are there an ill-effects? Do you regret that moment when you first stuffed it in your screeching baby's mouth?

Well, I am a dummy fan and my answer to that last question is HELL NO.

I have documented Otis' love of dummies here. He was into the dummy from Day Dot. The little lips moved with a silent, urgent suck that was a little alarming to me at first. A rogue midwife actually recommended a dummy, and the love affair began. I think Otis was about 18 hours old.

You read in all The Books about dummies being dangerous sleep props that should be banned from about three months of age.

There was no way Otis would unclamp his lips long enough for me to remove it at that age.

There was no way I would have had the courage to bin the one thing other than my nipple that settled my often cranky boy.

I never really had a dummy plan. When he started to babble, I started to withhold the dummy more and more, as I felt it had the potential to inhibit his speech. Glad I did that. By about 18 months Otis was only having his dummy for sleeping, or if he was feeling particularly emotional for whatever reason. Sickness, of course, also equalled dummy.

I had some vague ideas about throwing it away when he was two, but honestly, the dummy was helping me get through each day. By then I had a toddler and a baby, one obsessed with a dummy, the other spitting it out and defying my efforts to plug up her cries. Eventually Peggy got her dummy groove on too, and before I knew it dual dummy love was the order of our house.

There have been many stressful dummy-related moments, being small and wielded by temperamental littlies, they do tend to go missing in the middle of the night. However, there have been many more moments wherein I have praised God for creating dummies and wondered how any mother ever coped without one (actually, one is never enough, a bouquet of dummies per child is what is needed).

Otis has a favourite type, the Nuk ones that come in pastels, and make a very slight squeak when sucked. I introduced these orthodontic ones when he turned one, to try to save him from bucked teeth.

Peggy isn't so choosy. Her attachments are Ted Bear and Wrap. Any dummy will do.

Easter just gone, I got the idea from my sister to use the Easter Bunny as a means of ditching Oti's dummy for good. He was, amazingly, all for it at first. He loved to tell all and sundry about how big a boy he was becoming. He lapped up the lavish praise we bestowed on him - in hindsight, we really laid it too thick.

About a month down the track, Otis fell apart.

I've never seen anything like it.

Not only were we battling with a non-sleeping 18 month old, but now we also had to attend to our 3 year old every hour or so throughout the night. The penny finally dropped after one particularly rotten night when I curled up in his bed and had his hold my ear all night, just so that he could sleep. It wasn't pleasant.

I worked out that he needed something to help him wind down and drift off. If it couldn't be me, perhaps it could be his dummy?

The suggestion alone completely revitalised him. When he took the first few sucks on the brand new lemon-coloured Nuk dummy, his eyes rolled back in his head and he appeared to be getting high.

Since we returned it to him, he's started sleeping all night again and having naps in the afternoon.

He's happy.

And so are we.

Maybe Santa can take the new ones next Christmas?

Wicked witches, guns, floods and earthquakes...

2011-03-15T14:08:00.003+11:00

In an ideal world my little ones would only know sunshine and rainbows and cuddles and flowers and joy, joy, joy. But we currently live in a world that is stunned by one catastrophic natural disaster after another. The news is overflowing with increasingly graphic, apocalyptic-movie-like images of raging fires, quake-split roads, churches turned to rubble, muddy, disease-filled excess water and people waving toilet paper out of windows seeking rescue. There is something a bit sick about the way this stuff is shown on TV, the way Channel 7 goes into natural disaster programming mode and show unfiltered pictures of other people's pain for hours at a time.

When I wasa little girl TV coverage was obviously less immediate and therefore more censored, and I don't recall ever seeing the type of horror that has entered our living rooms of late. I can't help but wonder what it is doing to my kids...

I had a little panic the other day when Otis, in pretend mode, "killed" Peggy over and over with his "water pistol" (he only calls it a water pistol because I told him that guns, real and/or imagined, are banned from our home), and then, that same day, "shot" me when I asked him to do something he didn't wish to do. I sent him to his room and told him that all his good vs evil movies - the best kind, in his little drama-seeking mind - were being put away under lock and key. Snow White, his current favourite, plus The Neverending Story, The Little Mermaid... There is a real undercurrent of aggression in these films that I was/am starting to be concerned about. I guess I want him to stay that sunshine and lollipops boy who just cuddles and smiles all day long.

And then, today, I see him playing with his Little People... The plane is on top of the car which is teetering on top of a fire engine... "It's a flood, Mum! And an earthquake, look! They are all drowning and dying!!!" Cue huge smile of delight and mischief.

I can censor fiction, but I don't know how I can contain what is fact.

Chatterbox...

2011-03-12T20:30:00.004+11:00

She never stops. Here's a little list, for Peggy to look back on with wonder one day. I don't mean to brag, truly I don't. But she's so full of life, and full of words:

Mummy
Daddy
Otis
Brother
Wee wee
Nappy
Dummy
Mine
My
Peggy
Baby
Doggy
Bird
Bear
Doll
Happy
Hair
Toes
Shoes
Nanny
Poppy
Isla
Indi (Didi)
Lan
Gwammy
Piggy
Book
Block (for ice block)
Yummy
Car
Bob (as in the Builder)
Fish
Bike
Side (outside)
Door
Cot
Wrap
Toast
Brekky
Duck
Cow
Bart
Jord
Yuck
Poo
Yeah
No
Hello
Bye
Bag
Boat
Apple
Bikky

And one beautiful, heart-warming phrase...

I LOVE YOU. (Sounds more like "I lup mmm")

16 months of age and already a great conversationalist.

The reluctant 3 year old.

2011-02-01T07:50:00.002+11:00

Otis is now 3 years old. And I'm not sure that he's too happy about it. He tells me numerous times each day that he is "still a little boy, not a big boy yet", and that he doesn't want to be a dad yet. I try to reassure him that adulthood and all of its trappings are many, many years away. But still he reminds me, over and over again he defines himself as something closer to baby than he actually is.

It's all connected to the dummy. We had grand plans for getting rid of it in a very final and dramatic fashion upon his third birthday, but of course we left for our annual camping trip the day after and the idea of battling through tent sleeping sans dummy was intolerable to me. So I postponed the challenge of dummy eradication to an unspecified time in the next few weeks. He knows the dummy is on its way out and he'll do whatever he can to prolong his affair with it.

He currently only has his dummy for going to sleep. So his new thing is to tell me he's tired at random moments throughout the day, just so that he can lay on his bed and suck away with a gleeful expression on his face. Of course sleep is nowhere in sight...

With ageing, comes independance. In some areas Otis is determined to manage on his own - he loves to "read" aloud now, the story a mixture of rememberings and his own interpretation of the illustrations. And he is really thriving as a toilet-trained, pooing-in-potty person. He likes to flush and turn on the tap and use the soap all by himself.

But then he also likes to be fed, to be dressed, and for me to play game after game with him, day after day. I am working on this. No more feeding him... It was only ever dessert, we had a ritual of all sitting on the couch together after dinner, Phil and I feeding the babies their messy, sticky concoctions as quickly and cleanly as possible. But I've stopped that. And I don't dress him anymore either... Sometimes I have to instruct him as to why he has the wedgie from hell though! But he's learning. And growing. And soon that dummy will be history...

One more funny anecdote. He's worked out how babies escape the confines of their moummy's tummies. The tummy apparently breaks open like an egg, and the baby hatches. A doctor then glues the tummy back together, waiting for "the glue to dry" before sending the mummy home. Hence my stretch marks... Evidence of repairs I guess.

Chitter chatter...

2010-12-08T16:11:00.001+11:00

Otis says to me yesterday, whilst flipping through the pages of a book in complete silence, “Mum, I am not reading this book, I am listening to it, just like you.”
Current favourite activity is reading magazines, he loves all the ones aimed at little/pre-teen boys, like Mania, Krash and DMag. He cuddles both one of these (usually the latest, I pick them up for him on Sundays after his swimming lesson as a bribe, I know, evil, dastardly parenting technique, but I figure keeping him alive in the water trumps the badness of bribery) and his cuddly Santa.

Peggy says “Mummy” in the sweetest, most clearly enunciated way, it is such a delight to hear. Also says:

Dad/Daddy
Ammy (Grammy)
Braa (Brother)/Ati (Oti)
Bird
Popow (Popov, used for all dogs or other animals she doesn’t know the correct name for)
Yum
Hello (said upwards of 60 times a day, to anyone who walks past her or as soon as she hears me answer the phone, or in response to a character on a TV show, even though she doesn’t like TV, won’t sit still for a minute to even try to engage with it. She pronounces this “Hewwo”. It is said in a very short, abrupt way. )
Bye
Ta
Booboo (Boob… Even though weaned for nearly 2 weeks now… This girl will not forget!)

Current fave activity is to try on other people’s shoes, which she is surprisingly adept at, as well as their clothes, which she has a bit more trouble with. When she can’t manage these things immediately and with ease she screams and throws herself on to the floor in a most dramatic fashion.

A third? Maybe I'm mad.

2010-12-02T13:48:00.003+11:00

So, it's been a while. It's been a rough, misery-filled, relentless couple of months. Peggy's first birthday, an occasion I hoped to celebrate with great joy and the type of fun that my funny girls deserves, was instead full of vomit and tears and fevers and trips to the hospital. Peggy was well (then), but Otis was dreadfully ill, lethargic and quiet and too pink and completelt un-Otis like. He threw up for 14 hours straight, and then on and off for another 3 days. Eventually, upon our third presentation in Emergency, he was admitted for dehydration, and much later that same day, was re-fuelled via a nasty, invasive drip that he absolutely hated but which did the trick and got him back to health.

And then Peggy had it. Not so severely though... She's a tough little bird, determined and sure, and Otis is so sensitive. I wonder whether their emotional attributes somehow equate with the way their bodies process viruses. He gets hit hard, she battles on. Both need me so desperately when sick though, and of course I'm always there, but I can't say it was easy this time around. You see, they were also battling colds, Peggy actually had a throat infection and was on antibiotics and at first I thought the medication was the source of the runny nappies...

Phil was sick too, and one no good very bad day he hurt his back, all three of them cried and moaned and needed, needed, needed me all day long, and I faltered. I yelled, there was some throwing of things - nothing too scary, just a dummy or two - and I cried and, yep, I needed my Mum.

Now, they are reasonably well. They take a multivitamin every day - they love it, a little fruit flavoured, fish shaped "burstlet" - and I feel fairly confident that no family would suffer from gastro four times in a single year, so hopefully we won't have any more vomiting again this side of Christmas. But Peggy does have a rattly cough and sleeps... Well, like a baby, a tiny baby, not like a person who walks and talks should. I am tired but I have been to hell and know what it looks like and this isn't it. Things are "good". Not perfect, but I've come to realise that perfect moments are just that, moments, and parenting is made up of mostly very imperfect moments. But they still make me grin, and make my heart feel full.

And so, yes, we're looking at having another. Soon. Seems insane, I know. But I want to one day have some semblance of a career, so I don't think that prolonging the baby stage would be wise.

We debated the merits of going ahead with number three for a while there. Phil wasn't convinced, he talked about finances and houses and how lucky we are to have what we've got. Yes, the old "pigeon pair" thing came up too, which was silly on his part as that's never been the focus for me.

I get where he's coming from. We aren't rich, not even close, and I am sure that two would make more sense financially. But the reason to have another trumps all of his arguments. My babies deserve to have more than one sibling each. I want them to feel surrounded by people who love them and get them and accept them. That's what siblings do. They have a secret language, a shared past, they can communicate without words. I have four, and my childhood was so full as a result. Two simply doesn't seem enough. For Phil and I, yes, maybe it would be. But I don't think it would be for them, and they are the ones who motivate my choices these days.

Otis asks me constantly for another baby. He'd be happy with a boy or a girl, but if it's a boy he'd like it to be called "Otis". And while I like the idea of another him, because he's an angel and I can't get enough of him, I know enough now to know that every child is frighteningly unique. Who knows who we will end up with?

The things I love about Oti...

2010-10-11T13:56:00.002+11:00

His cherubic face. It's a classically beautiful face that I am pretty sure anyone would love, but being his mother, I love it especially. The full pink lips, stunning baby blues, English rose complexion, the creamy, pale, shiny, flat hair. Easy to love.

The manipulative faces he pulls - when he's been naughty, he knows just how to con us into letting him get away with it. The lips are made for pouting, and he screws them up to one side and lowers his head just so... He knows what he's doing.

His loving nature. He strokes Peggy's face so tenderly,"I love you Peggy", "Mum, I love Peggy, she's my sister." "Mum, can Peggy have a biscuit too? I think she's hungry. I love her." "Mum, I love you, you a good Mummy."

His innocence. He kissed his little friend Hughie on the lips the other day as we were saying goodbye. There was nothing shy or hesitant about it, he did with confidence, with the same enthusiasm he has for everything he loves about his life. And Hughie was happy to take it. This was after they had done wees together under the big tree at our local park.

His honesty. My pubic hair apparently makes me look like "Santa Claus", and his Grammy's hair... Well, he's admitted he's not a fan. At least when he says that he does like something we can accept it as truth.

His sayings... He loves to reply with "Sure!" or "Of course" if we ask him to do something. Instead of "I don't know", it's "I can't know". And he loves to reflect on his morning ust before naptime. "We've had a busy morning. We've had fun!"

The fact that he's not as scared of new things as I once he feared he might turn out to be... He started proper swimming lessons on Sunday, no parents in the pool when you're a Tadpole. And he didn't hesitate to get right in when he was asked to. I was dumbfounded. I had been prepared for tears and clinging and trauma for us both.

The things I love about Booroo...

2010-10-11T13:42:00.003+11:00

Those chocolate-y eyes that are so different from my own. They are all-knowing, and very pretty, framed with long, dark, curled lashes. Her best feature.

The golden hair, getting longer and wavier, looking lovely clipped at the side of her face. I'm slightly obsessed with putting clips in her hair, always keen to add to her/my collection.

The grabby little hands, she has the short nail beds that Phil has. Toes are like that too. Her feet are so straight, narrow, delicate and a light golden brown.

The way she holds on to her lovey or her soft quilt as she's falling asleep... Such a tight clutch, such a furrowed brow. Slowly her body relaxes and surrenders.

The tiny buds of teeth that have only just arrived! They are bumpy and ridged in their newness, and she is enjoying biting with them.

The put-on face of utter devastation that she shows me whenever something doesn't go her way. Dramatic, nose all scrunched, lips tight and wide, eyes squinty and full of rage. But there's a laugh lurking underneath it all.

The slap-slap-slap of her feet as she crawls with mighty speed. I hear this less and less now that she is walking. But when she's in hurry she reverts to the mode of transport she's long mastered.

Her emerging words... In the middle of the night now she'll actually ask for "boobooboo... boo" and I find it very hard to refuse her. She's starting to enunciate lots of new things, bird, book, brother...

The earnestness of her gaze as she "reads". Interactive books are her preference - glittery, touch-and-feel-, lift-the-flap.

Her smell. Like Otis, she smells so delicious. It's a clean, fresh smell mixed with something undefinable - a Peggyness that is sweet and salty and familiar.

Peace and quiet for two hours at least...

2010-09-20T15:10:00.002+10:00

Yes, I do look forward to this time of day. Not quite as much as the moment I first get to lay eyes on my bubbas after waking, but the silence and the time to cook, and clean, and attend to all those little to-dos on my list... It's nice.

However, I have been worried about the progression of Peggy's naps, from two to one. I was expecting this would happen around the twelve month mark, but, as is characteristic of my girl, the change has occurred a few months early. About a week ago she started becoming more difficult to get down for both naps. Lots of silliness, squawking and laughing and then tears. So I bit the bullet, after Lan suggested I give one sleep a try. I was thinking I'd have to do them back-to-back - Peggy down 11-1, Otis 1:30-3:30, and that I'd lose my "free" time as a result. Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but it would make life somewhat more challening. But, no, my girl has decided to make life easy for me, and has happily stayed up until 1pm almost every day for the past 4! It is now 3:15, Otis has been asleep for 2 hours exactly and she's been down for 2 hours, 20 minutes.

Go Booroo!!!

I know with Otis it was huge to get him to stay up until 11 at first! I slowly pushed him back to 12, then 1, and then sometimes 2, depending on Peggy.

They really are all so different!

Love that I am able to work this stuff out myself, in a way that suits my individual children and the type of family I strive to lead, without resorting to the likes of Gina Ford etc... I don't get those regimented, overtly scheduled books... Is parenting really a one-size-fits-all process?

Responses to my girly's adventures on two feet...

2010-09-15T10:54:00.003+10:00

People are funny. The people that love Peggy, or in fact, those who are secure enough in themselves to see her walking as cute and interesting rather than some sort of threat, just, very simply, "ooh" and "aah" over her endeavours as a two-footed pre-toddler.

Others, who obviously see my very awe-fuelled mention of it as inciting competition - something I've never been one to enter into... Otis was oddly early with any milestones and I never felt the need to defend this - immediately respond with "Oh, she's just keeping up with Otis". Funnily, these people are always mothers of one!

I don't think Peggy's early rolling, crawling, walking etc etc makes her smarter or more permanently physically capable than others. In fact, I think these things level out as babies get older - I know of many kids who did these things later and have grown into being particularly adept at the physical stuff (my niece Isla springs to mind, she's wonderful with a soccer ball). I also don't think it's about being the second sibling - I am pretty sure none of my siblings walked this early, and all four of them had me, at least, to chase after (not that I have ever been a fast runner!). I personally believe it is personality-driven. Peggy has had a stubborn, determined, feisty spirit from birth, and it is this desperation to move and grab and get that has made her the funny, ten-month-old toothless walker she is today!

Booroo is walking!

2010-09-13T08:07:00.002+10:00

My precious little Peggy took her first steps on Thursday, 9th Sepember. 10 months and 1 week old. It is such a sight to see this tiny, slight, delicate little BABY walking around. Gorgeous. She's progressed to taking up to 6 or 7 steps at a time now.

The month of sick...

2010-09-09T14:46:00.004+10:00

That's what August 2010 was in this household.

First of all we had the flu, I think it attacked all four of us and left the place overrun with damp, used tissues and the awful, sickly, sticky pink residue of Panadol. Tough, but familiar territory for me - 2009 was Oti's first year at Occy's Place and he was sick for the majority of it, usually with flu-like symptoms. Whenever the kids are sick they sleep with us - Phil jumps in with O, easier now that he is in full-length bunk beds (an awesome IKEA purchase), and Peggy comes in with me very early on in the night. All rules fly out the window, I let them eat as much as they like (usually very little) and whatever takes their fancy (ice cream for lunch? Why not!?), and there's plenty of DVD viewing and snuggling on the couch.

Next was the bad, awful, worst, scariest virus of all... GASTRO. Second time we've been hit this year, and AGAIN, I prove to be Superwoman, avoiding it completely even though it hung around here for over a week. As luck would have it, Peggy suddenly began vomiting - not the harmless little baby possets, the big, chunky, explosive, stinky type - literally as we headed out the door to visit a friend here for only a few days from Sweden. That outing was cancelled. Peggy ate nothing and drank frequently from the breast, and had about 5 vomiting episodes over the course of two days. She was in good spirits though, and it was an interesting lesson in early childhood development to compare her to Otis, who developed the same dreaded sickness afew days later, at the same moment Phil did. Otis was beside himself with anxiety and fear (as was I - I cried - it all happened at midnight, Peggy woke up too, and I froze - what to do? Who to attend to first? How to rid us all of the smell of spew?). He was most freaked out by the sight of his first gigantic throw-up - he woke up lying amongst the remnants of that evening's dinner, his dummy perched on top of the stinky mass, and he screamed when he returned to his room with the lights on and saw the hideous mess his bed was in. He then threw up all over himself and the floor, and howled as he moved him into the shower.

Months previously, he'd had the same thing in almost the same circumstances, and he hadn't been at all bothered. A new awareness, a developing sense of cleanliness and shame... It was interesting to behold.

Phil threw up too, they took turns in fact, and the poor little boy sat naked on the couch wrapped in old towels watching some bizarre Japanese anime movie through the night, until we were convinced the worst was over and allowed him to get dressed again. He and Phil finally fell asleep in the living room and spent the following day eating chips and drinking lemonade and looking as sad as can be.

My iron-clad stomach stood strong through it all, but being the one washing the vomit-stained sheets and comforting the sickly souls is not always preferable... Tired doesn't cover it.

Through the gastro the greeen snotty noses continued, then started to fade to a less-disgusting shade of yellow, and then the next sickness hit - the unspecified virus that has resulted in fevers, lethargy and super-duper-clingy behaviour. First Peggy, then Oti. I hate wasting an hour of my life in the GP's waiting room with a child who has nothing worse than a virus and thus cannot be treated in any way for it. It's not that I wanted them to be seriously ill, trust me. I just wish I'd factored a medical degree into my repertoire of study so that I could avoid such pointless and painful visits to the Dr. I hate being made to feel like a hypochondriac, but how I am to know that it's an untreatable, commonplace bug?

There are some nice parts to the whole sick child scenario... The cuddles are a little longer, you can sleep with them all night guilt-free, they need you and love you that little bit more, they sleep longer during the day (Tuesday - Otis did 4 hours, Peggy did 1 and then 2 1/2) and the joy you feel when they are back to their happy, energised little selves is really special, a real moment of gratitude.

My little lovelies...

2010-08-09T15:57:00.002+10:00

Peggy is 9 months now... Not my tiny little screecher any longer. She's lean with a plump bottom, olive-skinned, with eyes that are almost black, rosy cheeks, a toothless smile and wispy, golden hair. She's quite clingy to me now, with bursts of great independance and determination in between. I think sometimes we all ascribe certain traits to babies early on, forgetting that many of their characteristics relate to development and can change with the wind. Not overly fussed on the boob, she'll have it if there's nothing more interesting going on anywhere nearby, but she prefers to be fed during the night. Half-asleep and twitchy, 5-10 minutes on the boob settles her down for more sleep and warms her cheeks which are made cold by the frigid midnight air. We've been having some desperately cold weather in Sydney of late.

I'll wean her when she turns one, and I doubt she'll even notice... She'll no doubt be walking by then. Her development has stalled a little lately - the physical stuff, I mean. She's been standing in very short spurts for about 6 weeks now, but hasn't progressed past that. She's loud - loves to hear herself scream. She's not big on eating, although she's got a sweet tooth and wouldn't dream of knocking back a little mouthful of Dairy Milk or a fresh-baked peanut butter cookie. I came up with one meal they both adore. I cooked it the same day Phil took O to see Shrek 4 at the movies, and since it's bright green, it's become known as The Shrek Meal. It's risoni with a rich, luminous spinach and cheese sauce mixed through it. Delicious.

She's sleeping most of the night with me, and I am cherishing it now... It's amazing how differently I am perceiving the co-sleeping this time around. I guess that's because I miss having Otis by my side, breathing his breath, feeling a warm, mushy hand fondle my face. I miss it terribly. And I know I'll miss her just as much, her little body tucked in next to mine, her long eyelashes resting on those squeezable cheeks.

Otis is just great. He's got a best friend now, and loves to play with sticks, we look for bears and tigers and snakes in our backyard. He mimics me profusely... If he's unsure about something he says "I can't know" instead of "I don't know". And multiple times a day we have to "talk about our days", which means listing everything we've done since he woke up and listing everything we'll do tomorrow. His current favourite movie is Stuart Little. He's right into reading too, recalls the words I've read and uses the pictures to come up with the rest.

The mouths of babes...

2010-07-21T13:52:00.002+10:00

Two Otis gems for you, at opposite ends of the spectrum.

At IGA the other day, upon being asked if Peggy is his little sister:

"She's my Peggy-boo." (Accompanied by couldn't-have-been-cuter-if-choreographed gestures of love and possession.)

Yesterday, in anticipation of a tantrum (mine, although I actually managed to take control of my frazzled-ness and behave for once):

"F*ck. F*ck."

WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?

"F*ck?"

Uh-oh.

We've found our rhythm...

2010-07-13T21:10:00.002+10:00

and life is just grand.

I've been absent from this blog for good reason - I've just submitted my PhD thesis after 6 years. It's funny, when I was in the throes of my research with one hand typing and the other feeding my boob into Otis' mouth, I felt really put out by the fact that I had to focus on something other than him. But now that I am done, I am already embarking on new projects, and am realising that that is how I parent - mothering is not my only occupation, it never will be. I think that if it were I would lose all perspective and, perhaps, my sense of self. Being a SAHM is something of a "calling" for some women, and not something I wish to dismiss. I respect those who have the paience to be at the mercy of infants and toddlers non-stop. I have issues with anger and am very quick to fire, and I believe that using my brain in ways that don't relate to toilet training or discipline or breastfeeding allows me to fully switch off from parenting and thus take the odd, genuine "break" from it. It's a relentless experience.

Anyway, yes, things are good. Otis is a real boy now - all feet and hands, singing sweetly (not sure that he will be a choirboy, however, his pitch is all over the place!), recalling minutiae in frightening detail and mimicking many of my not-so-fine parenting moments ("That's enough Peggy! Shut up, please!"). His current favourite things: Fireman Sam, a book called The Farmer by Mark Ludy, anything chocolate and the very sweet Japanese film Ponyo. He doesn't like wearing jeans, and hates waking up after his afternoon nap (yes, the irony is not lost on me). He adores Peggy, and continues to shower those around him with love and affection. He has started asking for "another baby in Mummy's tummy". Not yet matey!

Peggy is wonderful too, cruising furniture, pulling herself up and then letting go, with the occasional well-balanced moment of real standing. She's perfected the art of falling "softly" on her well-padded nappied bottom. Has given me plenty of grief with boob-refusal lately, but the past few days have seen her get reacquainted with the process. She has certainly never been the booby monster that Otis was. It will probably make the weaning experience less emotionally fraught for me. She's eating well, not huge volumes of food though. She is sleeping beautifully during the day, but is co-sleeping and waing reasonably frequently of a night. Mostly she is easily re-settled though, and I am happy to have the cuddles given the freezing weather we've been having. Waking up to her gorgeous "anime" face each morning is inexplicably excellent...

She's developed a very strong attachment to me in the last few weeks, and likes to spend much of every evening in my arms whilst I do my domestic duties. I don't mind, I know these phases come and go.

She's babbling away, saying "dada", "mama", "baba", "yeah, yeah, yeah" and has been waving with an accompanied "hi" or "bye" for a couple of weeks now. She started clapping at the Play School concert and hasn't stopped. She's an energised,spirited, determined and bright little girl. Delicate rather than chubby, with a definite olive tone to her skin, so different to O's "English Rose" complexion.

Loving my family, they really do make my heart feel full.

Toys for girls... Terrible!

2010-06-03T15:01:00.002+10:00

What on earth am I going to buy Peggy for her first birthday and Christmas? Yes, yes, it is a while away yet, but Phil and I usually lay-by everything during the EOFY sales so that we can it all off slowly... Having babies born in November and January, either side of Christmas, can get a little costly if you are not prepared.

I already have a few books put away, and I bought them each a set of those wooden Russian dolls that fit one inside the other... Can't recall the technical name. Oti's are soldiers, Peggy's are fairly run-of-the-mill. I also came across these cool wooden fairytale masks. I got one each of those - Goldilocks on one side, Baby (?) Bear on the other, and a Red Riding Hood/Wolf one too. I think we'll have fun with those for years to come.

We are looking at getting a trampoline for the two of them, as well as an IKEA kitchen. We'll get them both some Duplo to add to the growing mountain... It is without a doubt the most used and appreciated item in this house. But then what? Otis has a range of possibilities at his disposal - a remote control car, a gardening set, power tools, a scooter, water pistols... The section of the toy stores aimed at females is pink upon pink upon Barbie upon doll upon Barbie upon doll.

I don't have an issue with dolls per se - I think they are great. They promote nurturing behaviour and allow for plenty of imaginative play. Otis has a few and loves them, and I am proud of the fact that we have supported him in taking an interest in them. But Peggy already has so many! She was inundated with them at birth, and they look set to keep coming.

There is very little else marketed at girls,and I find it so disappointing. Luckily Peggy has all of Otis' toys to enjoy. And I will be going out of my way to find something of the non-doll variety to give to her when she turns 1. I would love some tips... If anybody is out there reading this, please advise me!

We will probably purchase a trike for her... I haven't looked at what is available for that age group yet, but I hope that the girly ones are actually functional and don't require the user to ride side-saddle!! I wouldn't be at all surprised. Girly toys don't appear to encourage active play.

On a more positive note, Otis and I have discovered a most excellent book - Jobs People Do, published by Usborne Books. It is brilliant. Lovely to look at, with photos of Fimo figurines going about their daily work. Lots of beautifully detailed explanations of uniforms and equipment. Endearing storylines, and plenty of non-stereotypical casting of women in roles that are traditionally masculine - there is Doctor Daisy, Vet Vicky, and a couple of female firefighters. There is also a plethora of races represented. And a male nurse!! I am just so impressed by this book, and Otis never tires of it. I recommend for toddlers two and up.

A bit of a random gush...

2010-05-19T10:53:00.000+10:00

These kids of mine, my goodness, they are beautiful beings. Yes, yes, I know, I am their mother, my sole purpose is to boost them up and make them feel like the most special people on the planet, even if they are really only average. But I really, truly do believe that Phil and I have thus far made exceptionally good-looking babies. Hopefully we will continue to do so, once or twice more in the future (next baby is definitely at least three years away, I guarantee it). We were talking about this just the other day – how awful it would be if our next baby were ugly, and people reacted to it with surprise upon realising that such an unfortunate looking person was related to the rather stunning Otis and Peggy. Yes, it would be bad, but there are obviously much worse things that could happen, and I’d rather not go there…

But it is really more than skin-deep beauty that I am talking about. I mean the shining joy in Otis’ eyes when he sees me walk through the door after a day at work, the higher-than-normal note of his voice, the tightness of our hug. It is in the way he kisses his new cousin Indigo, with a mixture of reverence and excitement. She can’t offer him much yet in the way of fun or companionship, but he loves her anyway. It’s in his very serious “I’m sorry Peggy” after accidentally bowling her over in a fit of enthusiastic adoration.

My boy has such a capacity for love. I have no idea what he will do with his life, whether he will be academically talented or sporty or creative, but I am sure that he will have wonderful relationships with people because he is just so pure of heart. My neighbour once said to me, “Otis has a big heart”. She’s right. I always think of him and feel a little heave in my chest when I listen to Lisa Mitchell sing:

“Livin’ in that chest is a big, big heart, the one I’ve known from the very start…”

And Peggy. Wow, her determined spirit is something to behold. Already crawling efficiently at 6 months, she can do so much with that tiny body of hers. And her giggle – music to my ears. After a hellish night, she wakes up happy, gurgling, that little face – so extreme and singular it looks to have been rendered by a cartoon artist – is all smiles.

Tresillian... I caved in and called.

2010-05-18T14:47:00.002+10:00

I am not a fan of parenting hotlines. I can't quite explain why - there is just something off to me about calling a stranger on the phone and finding out from them what it is that your child needs. But then, I understand desperation, I certainly do...

My reservations also relate to my feelings about controlled crying. I wouldn't ignore an adult who was crying, let alone my own precious, defenceless baby girl. Not an option in this household.

Anyway, Peggy has been carrying on for hours during the night. We do the Cot vs Co-sleeping dance - in, out, in, out. She knows when I am placing her back into the cot, even when she is fast asleep. The minute I change the configuration of my arms, she starts to arch and moan and the tears flow.

She is self-settling wonderfully during the day - not even the tiniest of whinges. And sleeping well, at least one 2 hour nap and then another one or two shorter naps. In the evening I feed her down and then she wakes about 4 hours later, and won't calm without me offering the boob. And then... Hours, literally hours, of carry on.

So I laid it all out on Tresillian's Messenger Mums service, after being on hold to them on my bloody mobile for 4o minutes! And you know what the nurse told me? That Peggy wants me all to herself and feels as if night time is the only opportunity for that, because Otis takes up so much of my time. Can I get some help with him and spend more one-on-one time with her? Well... No. Not when I already enlist the help of her grandmothers twice a week so that I can work and thus we can eat.

I feel worse than I did before! I should have followed my instincts!

I am feeling resigned to the fact that we will be co-sleeping for much of the night for now. It's not the worst thing in the world, having a warm baby folded up in your arms on a cold night.

The crazy crawling Whirly Girl...

2010-04-29T15:23:00.002+10:00

Peggy is now commando-ing all over the place. I am so shocked at how early she started to mobilise. Her dear big brother did not manage to start pulling himself along until he was 9 months old... I recall Phil doing "crawl training" with him, trying to entice him into action with toys and treats, silently and shamefully bemoaning his ineptitude. He got there, of course, and 9 months is still well within the realms of normal, but he was certainly a little on the slow side. In fact, he was a little bit behind when it came to nearly all the physical milestones. I never cared, I am no athlete, and I have always placed more emphasis on his speech and creativity.

So you can understand my surprise when Girly Whirly started screeching in frustration when a toy or forbidden non-toy item was placed just out of her reach, at only 5 months of age. And then she started to pull herself along. There was grunting and gasping, a bit of sweat along the brow, and, slowly, but surely she got there, millimetreby millimetre.

She's fairly adept at it now. Sometimes does a slow shuffle, sometimes a large, lunging leap. Just today she's started to rise up on all fours. I think "proper" crawling is only days or weeks away.

6 months on Sunday! My beautiful, wilful Whirly Girl. I love you my darling.

My top ten "can't live without" baby and toddler items...

2010-04-23T14:15:00.000+10:00

Just thought I’d share this. There are a million lists like this around, but mine is obviously entirely impartial (no-one is paying me to market their products!), so perhaps a little more trustworthy. Please feel free to reply with a few of your own.

1. Medela Harmony Manual Breast Pump (used in conjunction with Swisspers breastmilk storage bags)

2. Bonds Wondersuits

3. That’s Not My Truck/Bunny/Baby/Dolly/Dragon etc etc books

4. Duplo

5. Baby Einstein Play Mat

6. Greenkids nappies

7. ABC Kids (OK, not so much an item, but a product of sorts)

8. Coles Smartbuy wipes

9. Fisher-Price Soothe and Glow Seahorse

10. Stretch jersey cotton wraps

Will return to annotate this list when I get the time.

Otis the Builder

2010-04-12T11:32:00.002+10:00

Otis has never really had an obsessive attachment to anything (other than me, and his dummy, of course). No blanky, no preferred stuffed toy, no special outfit. A few times I tried to push various toys and encourage him to develop an attachment... I was thinking if he fell in love with Simon his knitted lion, for instance, then maybe he wouldn't scream out for me upon waking for even a split second, or wouldn't need to pull on my now very dry and sore elbow skin whilst falling asleep.

That's all changed! He is now officially in a relationship with the $4 tool kit Phil and I bought him for Christmas. It goes everywhere with him, and has been added to, gradually. It came with a power drill (the most favoured of the tools, due to its battery operation), a hammer, pliers, a spanner, and a wrench. We added a second hammer, and a tape measure. Sometimes it also contains a dummy (surely Bob the Builder doen't leave home without his?), a mobile phone (a display model that flips open, much loved by O) and a plastic knife (he loves "cutting"... things, but sometimes also his sister).

The actual tool kit is bright yellow and clips together, like an old-school lunch box, and has a name label that he likes to spell out for us ("Name! O-T-S!").

And, as it appears, my dream came true... Once he developed an attachment to an inanimate object, he stopped pulling at my elbow whilst falling asleep. I don't know that the two are connected though. He's just becoming more independant by the day. He plays alone for lengthy periods, with imaginary characters, dealing with a host of dramas that would put Summer Bay to shame. He fights monsters, fires, cooks meals, swims, drives, writes letters and posts them. He needs me less. And wouldn't you know it? Just putting this out there, "on paper", has me shedding a few quiet tears.

Today he and Phil have gone on what I imagine will be the first of many boy's trips away. They left this morning, and have gone down to Canberra for a night. Phil wanted to see an exhibition at the Gallery, and he's decided to also throw in a visit to the dinosaur museum and a trip to the movies. They really don't need me!!

Bits and pieces...

2010-03-23T14:16:00.002+11:00

I've been really unwell with a cold-flu-whatever and keep forgetting to come in here and jot down the latest... This is just a collection of information I want to record, there is no real theme to this post.

Peggy is - I dread to use the word "advanced" - but she really does seem ahead of the game... She's certainly developing physically much more quickly than Otis did. She rolled front to back at 9 weeks, and then back to front right on 4 months. At 4 1/2 months she is SITTING unaided for short bursts of time. She appears to be a very, very determined little person. She'll fight and fight until whatever sparkly, bright, exciting item she has spied is finally in her grasp.

65cm long at 4 1/2 months, 6.8kg. A bizarre head of hair that only a mother could love - brown and wavy on the tips, short and white underneath, not much on the sides of her head (unfortunately giving away the fact that I sleep her on her side in a very non-compliant fashion). Eyes that looks brown indoors and blue in the sunshine. LONG eyelashes. Elegant fingers, odd toes that have the teeniest little toenails.

She is feeding 4 hourly now, around the clock. Last night she only had a few sucks at her second night feed, so I am thinking I may start trying to discourage that one... I'll let her go until 6 months, and then perhaps put a stop to the second night feed altogether.

Having only two sleeps most days now, each of between 40 mins and 2 1/2hours in length.

Eating up a storm... Loves pumpkin, avocado and banana, not so fussed on stewed fruits of Farex though (who can blame her re the latter).

Nicknames: Peggle/Piggle (Phil), Girly, Girly-Whirl, Whirly, Pegarina, Peggabush, Peggabushy, Bushel (Me, Oti... He copies whatever nickname I happen to use).

OK... My Oat-Boy.

He's 14.2kg at 26 months. 91cm or so (hard to get an accurate measurement). Obsessed with tools. Likes to be called Bob (as in builder). A nightmare to get to sleep in the evenings, but once down isn't heard from until morning. Very affectionate, particularly to Peggy... In fact, he appears to have transferred his obsession with me... He's Peggy's number one fan.

Loves to play imaginary games. All sorts of inanimate objects become people in his mind. Blocks, leaves, stones, shampoo bottles. He adores playing with Duplo, his sand and water play table, his tool kit. Loves to draw and use play dough. Loves cooking with Mum. Loves TV!! Play School is still number one. Winnie the Pooh, The Little Mermaid, Peter Rabbit and Finding Nemo are his preferred DVDs. Enjoys singing, especially The Motorbike Song. Loves diggers and motorbikes. Loves riding his trike. Loves his Ernest and Celestine books. Has just started enjoying borrowing books from the library.

Speaking in full sentences now... Although sometimes not easy to interpret if the dreaded dummy is in his mouth. "I love you Mum" is the single most wonderful thing I have ever had the pleasure to hear. It keeps my spirits lifted for days at a time.

Back at work and missing my cartoon-eyed FOUR month old...

2010-03-04T14:09:00.003+11:00

Yes, I am back at work. It's not all bad. I actually enjoy getting ready for work and looking like an adult rather than a teen mum (which is apparently what I look like, even though I am 30. People always look at me as if I am inappropriately young to be a mother. Annoying now, but nice when I am 90, I guess).

We have to be so organised! I spend most of the night before preparing. Packing Oti's Occy's bag (lunch, spare clothes, dummies, the dreaded disposables, sheets for his sleep on the big boy bed, water, outfit for the day) Peggy's kit (dummies, bibs, multiple jumpsuits, socks and something warm to appease Mum's need to dress her in many layers, bottle, frozen breastmilk) and laying out my own clothes, plus preparing my own lunch and packing my cooler bag with breastmilk bags and the blessed pump)... I have 30 minutes in the morning to ready myself for the day, all the while praying that Peggy stays asleep until we are ready to leave.

Once on the train, I quickly apply my make-up and then READ. WITHOUT. INTERRUPTION!!!

Highlight of my day.

I then pump as soon as I get into work. Our lovely receptionist Caroline made me a spiffy sign to put on the meeting room door to keep all the men out! A colleague suggested it read "Milking in Progress", but we decided to be slightly more abstract.

I pump at 8, 12 and 4. I can take my laptop in with me and work during the process.

Home at 5, home to the little girl I miss more than I expected I would! Phil and I are just so obsessed with her eyes, they are so dark and deep and almost cartoonish in shape. I really love them and go all gooey inside when they are fixed on me.

Otis continues to LOVE her:

"Peggy. Coot."

"Peggy. Boo-a-ful."

"Peggy. Love her."

Anger management...

2010-02-21T17:28:00.002+11:00

My husband just asked me very nicely to stop yelling at our children...

I don't think I yell at Otis all that often, no more than is useful and understandable, at least. But, yes, I scream at Peggy at least once a day, and I am fully aware of how ridiculous and cruel that is. As if my yelling will make her sleep! It will no more settle her than would a bulldozer crashing through her bedroom wall. It's completely irrational and ineffective. It's pure emotion.

I know I shouldn't, but I do it anyway.

Tips, anyone? How do I get this under control?

My baby does not deserve it, but the tiredness builds and builds until all I want is for her to sleep so that I can be free of her for a short time. A little bit of time away and I can be the happy, shiny Mum she loves and by whom she should ideally be attended.

The last 24 hours have been really hard.

Our days...

2010-02-15T12:22:00.002+11:00

Currently go something like this:

7am - Otis and Peggy wake up around now. We get up, have brekky, and put on some washing. On alternate days they each have a shower with me. Peggy HATES it when she's left out, even though Oti and I sing songs to her the whole time we are in there and have her sitting in the bouncer facing us.
7:30/8am - Breastfeed Peggy.
9:00am - Go for a walk, either to the park, or the shops, or storytime... Peggy sleeps unyil around 10.
10:30/11 - Home by now, BF Peggy.
Midday - Both in bed. Otis sleeps for 2 hours, Peggy anywhere from 40 minutes to 2 hours... I usually sit in on the bed and wait for her first wake up so that I can quickly re-settle her before she fully wakes. Sometimes this just doesn't work, and I usually respond by swearing and getting cranky, while P just laughs.
2pm - BF Peggy, lunch for Otis.
2:30/3pm - Might go out again, or play on the balcony, or read, or draw.
4pm - Peggy has another sleep, 45 minutes. Otis and I play.
5pm - BF Peggy, start getting dinner happening. Phil is usually home around now and I am sighing with relief after another exhausting but usually fun-filled day.
7:30pm - BF Peggy (top-up feed, she often falls asleep on the boob) and put her to bed.
8pm - Otis in bed.

During the night, Peggy feeds 3-5 hourly, usually around 12 and 4, and stays in with me after the 4am feed.

Bliss is...

2010-02-12T13:51:00.003+11:00

Standing in the shady end of Mum and Dad's pool on a stinking hot, sweaty Sydney summer's day, breastfeeding my baby, while she kicks her legs and enjoys the feel of the cold and the wet on her skin. The water bears much of her weight, she is light as a bubble.

I'll never understand the anti-breastfeeding brigade!

My girl...

2010-02-03T14:20:00.003+11:00

I call her "girly", but with me as her mother, she's anything but, really. Not that an infant can really exhibit gendered characteristics, but as far as her clothing goes... I get lots of disapproving and/or quizzical looks when I dress her in blue or grey, which I do, often. Where is it written that girls must wear pink and purple and nothing else? How will they ever learn their colours with such a limited colour palette? I favour red when picking Peggy's clothes...

Speaking of red, I dressed her in a gorgeous, very traditional red tartan dress when we went to a baby shower on the weekend. It was a gift from my friend Elise. Really pretty, without being pink. Anyway, I lifted her out of her capsule, all puffed up with pride, only to discover that she had done a huge mustardy poo all over the dress ad the matching bloomers. Within minutes she was back in her usual t-shirt and leggings. Just as beautiful in my eyes. My attempts to feminise her were thwarted! Is the universe telling me something?

She's such an "easy" baby now. Never, ever imagined I would be in a position to type those words in relation to a baby of my own. But there's no denying it. Goes to sleep "easily", smiles and coos, happily spends up to 10 minutes alone on her mat or in her bouncer, and doesn't wail the way she once did.

:):) :)

Peggy's independent approach to sleep does, however, enable Otis to continue to need lots of coddling and attention... He pinches the skin on my elbow. If my arm is not comfortably accessible to him, he manouevres it until it is.

A family of four...

2010-01-26T13:04:00.002+11:00

I've always wanted four children, but right now, I feel oddly, unexpectedly complete with my two beauties. I am sure this will change at some point, and I do feel that my kids would benefit from having more than one sibling each, but for now, I do feel oh so satisfied with my lot. Don't have a lot of money, don't own a house, but have something that money cannot buy. Really happy.

So! Lots has been happening. Otis continues to delight all who know him with his funny antics and ever-expanding vocabulary. He has taken to adding an "ing" to words in quite a clever, if innacurate, way. When we walk up the stairs, he says "upping". When he's having fun, he says "funning". When he wants to crunch ice cubes, he says "icing". When he's reading, he's "booking". Love it! What an ingenious use of the English language!

We went camping recently, and it was not the disaster people had told me it would be (nasty pessimists). It was great! The tent held up during some pretty crazy weather, and we survived some extreme temperatures. Our babies slept very well, and we all enjoyed the novelty of tent life and our access to a kid-friendly, complete with fountains, inground pool, and our trips to the beach. Mum and Dad stayed in luxury at the nearby Norah Head lighthouse, and generously allowed us to stay a couple of nights there after our tenting experience. The only issue was Otis falling off his single air mattress and ending up in a shivering heap in the opposite corner of his room in the tent... We ended up switching things around a little, so that Phil and O shared the double air mattress and I had the single, next to Peggy in her little Valco carrycot.

Speaking of Peggy... Wow. She is a dream. A dream and a half, even. I cannot get over how easy and stress-free it is to put her down to sleep. Night or day, anywhere... Music, dummy, wrap and - bam - her eyes are closed. I am enjoying her much more than I did Otis at this stage. But, you know what? You might expect that to translate into me loving her more... But I don't. I can honestly say that I love them absolutely equally. My heart is full to the brim.

I currently have my period... This is the second menstrual cycle since I gave birth... Which means I could potentially have conceived a baby that would be less than a year younger than Peggy... Which is completely inhumane and insane. I think it is a cruel trick of my particular biology that I am fertile again so absurdly quickly, despite fully breastfeeding my baby. Not a drop of formula has passed that girl's lips, but still, I bleed!! Anyone would think God was suggesting that I am cut out for mothering three under three... God is so very wrong. Condoms are my religion, for now.

Self-settling!!!

2010-01-04T19:55:00.003+11:00

I have always looked at my niece Isla with wonder... Since a young age she has been put in her cot and left to fall asleep alone. She generally does so with minimal fuss and sleeps well. I have envied my sister all the free (?) time this no doubt affords her... For much of his young life, Otis took up to three hours in total each day of patting, singing and settling in order to fall asleep for his various naps and for the night. This is trying, but do-able, with one baby - with two, it presents a real problem.

Peggy was putting on her usual performance afew days ago. Phil and I were taking it in turns for hours patting and rocking and shushing her to sleep, with no success. I was in tears at this point, Phil was feeling defeated. Peggy was calm, quiet, but awake. Phil gave up and left her in the cot, wrapped, dummy in, still. Five minutes later we checked on her and, amazingly enough, she was sound asleep!

Ever since, for nearly every sleep, we have wrapped Peggy, popped a dummy in her mouth (she's joined the Cult of the Dummy, finally, Otis must have had a quiet word with her), turned on her musical seahorse, and left her to her own devices. She tends to spit out the dummy a few times and cry out within the first ten minutes or so, and we just go in and re-plug her. But there are no tears, there is no stress. It is easy and pleasant and so, so freeing!!

She is still occasionally fed to sleep (unintentionally), but on the whole she needs no real assistance from us. Of course, I feel guilty (I have a problem with guilt) that I am spending next to no time settling her when I still find myself stroking Otis' back as he falls asleep... I am a little worried that this bespeaks favouritism or neglect. But I can make up for that by giving plenty of cuddles and kisses when she is awake. I also have to remind myself of the tension and anger historically involved in getting Otis to sleep. There is none of that now with Peggy, which must be of benefit to us both.

I know, I know, things could change at any moment and I may yet find myself patting, rocking, singing, shushing, cursing her to sleep. But let me enjoy the moment!

By the way, she started rolling today! Right on 9 weeks of age! Seems a little early to me? She's a bright one!

The great leveller...

2009-12-21T14:30:00.003+11:00

Just wrote this great entry, and lost the entire thing when the internet disconnected... Trying to get it done while they are both asleep, so incredibly frustrated that I essentially wasted the last 20 minutes.

Anyway, the great (?) thing about motherhood is that it evens out the playing field... It is chaotic, scary, intense and ultimately wonderful, no matter who you are. It doesn't matter whether you are rich or poor, highly educated or not, attractive or ugly, black or white... From the moment you wee on the stick, to when you are pushing so hard you think your eyeballs will explode, to when you are afraid your arms will fall off from rocking and patting your wakeful 7 week old wonder to sleep... Motherhood hits us all pretty hard. I am sure that Angelina Jolie and Nicole Richie have nannies on hand to help out with the settling, but not even the rich and famous can get out of actually giving birth! No amount of money or information or expertise can ease the burden of responsibility. It comforts me to know that there are millions of other women out there going through what I am going through, and surviving it.

Speaking of survival... I survived my time as a lone parent. I am not sure I did very well, but when Phil met us at the gate we were all clean, fed and in one piece. I had many a meltdown, cried at least every second day, and swore inappropriately at my defenceless newborn girl, but I endured it and got to the other side of my 3 week single parent stint. Never again! Not with such a young bub, anyway.

It has been great to have Phil home. Peggy is, wouldn't you know it, much easier now, more settled, quite calm, only screaming for short, manageable periods in the evening. She is still quite defiant in resisting sleep, I spend much of my day jerking her around rather violently in order to get her to sleep (she likes it, honestly, the jerkier and bouncier the movement the better), and then feeling disappointed when she wakes up too early. I get frustrated by my own frustrations - I know I should expect less and just go with the - very unpredictable - flow, but that's just not me. I battle it out with myself in my own head every day. Peggy will get easier and easier as we continue to get to know one another better, and it is this knowledge, that I acquired the first time around, that keeps me going. She is a beautiful girl, and I love her. I know my love will just keep on growing, and I can't wait for all the adventures we will share as she gets older.

Otis is great, lovely, the apple of my eye, and so funny. Santa is his current obsession. A great bribery tool for me!

A happier couple of days...

2009-12-10T13:22:00.002+11:00

My little girl seems somewhat happier. Why? It could be a few things:

1. I am doing all feeds lying down. I think this stems the flow a little, she gulps less and seems very comfy and calm. It's nice for me too, but probably not an option when I am in the middle of Westfield... I know I have a very healthy supply, and I am lucky in that regard, but maybe it's a bit too much?
2. I dropped into the Baby Health Centre... They were frighteningly busy, so didn't stay, but on my way out I picked up a little leaflet which details the irritable periods you can expect to encounter during your baby's first year of life. The crying face above the 5 week mark indicated that we were smack bang on target. According to this sheet (the source of which remains unknown) she should be happier for the next two weeks... I can always dream!
3. I am going with the flow more than I was, and worrying less about bad habits and bad parenting. Letting Otis watch his "Santa show" repeatedly so that I can attend to her in peace, letting them both sleep in my bed. Just surviving. Maybe she can feel the shift in attitude?

It's impossible to tell. But she is crying less, her irritability now seems much more within the realms of normal. I still wouldnt call her happy or easy, but she's less scary right now, that's for sure. Don't want to speak too soon though!

Positive observation for the day - she is going to have curls! I can already tell. Just picture it, blond curls!!

A break... Finally!

2009-12-08T13:47:00.003+11:00

Grammy has Peggy for the DAY.

It feels so good. I don't miss her. Otis does though, he keeps saying "Baaayby" and making an inquisitive, slightly sorrowful face.

I've been reading Robin Barker's Baby Love. Great, great book. I referred to it often when Otis was young. She dispenses advice in a calm, no-nonsense fashion, and doesn't have an obvious agenda. She provides a variety of options, explains the pros and cons of each, and gives parents freedom to follow their own instincts. It's much less condescending, much less extreme, much less militant than many of the other books.

She says, of babies who cry excessively, that most of the time there is no medical reason for it, and that the anxiety and tension and irritability usually resolves itself with time. I am sure that this is what will happen with Peggy. I will simply have to survive the next couple of months and try to remain optimistic. I will try, each day, to report one positive thing about my beautiful baby girl, one small moment, one minor fact, that will pull me through and remind me how lucky I am to have her, even though she screams from about midday until bedtime, every single day.

I do just love her, her lovely, thoughtful, pretty little face, her dark eyes, her thick and fluffy hair that is flecked with gold and reaches a few centimetres below her neck.

Can't write too much...

2009-12-07T12:21:00.001+11:00

For fear of what I might say.

My little girl, whom I love so, so much, is not making me very happy right now.

I am not enjoying her one bit.

I love her... Do I like her?

Playing at being a single mum...

2009-12-02T10:40:00.002+11:00

It's OK, Phil and I are still together! But he is away for work, for three weeks (or just shy of, I am on a countdown and there are 17 days left) and I am here in my little unit with my two babies and a Christmas tree. Advent this year is a countdown on a few levels! Phil will be home a week before Christmas and I have no doubt I will cry tears of relief.

I am not alone. My Mum has taken two weeks off work to help me care for my children, and I am so very grateful for that. She has been so wonderful, and of course Otis is thrilled to be spending so much time with her. But the one complication is that he basically fails to even register my existence when he's around Mum... Usually this doesn't bother me too much. I mean, I get it: all he does when he is with her is have fun, fun and more fun! He eats whatever he wants and has her undivided attention, and is witness to her crazy antics and boundless energy. Compared to his time with me, which, while frequently lots of fun (I hope) also entails chores and discipline and my focus being split between the various elements of my life - including, now, his baby sister.

To be honest, it's getting me down. But I need the help. So I have to try to accept it best I can.

Otis is ill (again) and yesterday it got to a scary point, very, very high fever and strange, listless behaviour. I knew he's sleep fitfully and would need a lot of help to stay asleep, so felt that my only option was to send him to Mum. I haven't expressed enough milk yet to palm Peggy off to anyone else.

I am feeling so torn between my two children. Newborns and sick toddlers are both so needy. It's near impossible for one person to meet all of those needs all of the time. So I will keep leaning on my very supprtive Mum and keep feeling split, I suppose. Working on expressing so that Mum can have Peggy at some point and Otis and I can share some one-on-one time.

Peggy is gradually becoming easier in that I am getting to know her and am able to predict her behaviour a little more easily. She's sleeping for two good 3-4 hour stretches per day (one in the morning, one at night) and otherwise has short naps. She feeds really well and has gained 600g in four weeks. She's starting to make happy little facial expressions (not sure whether they are actual smiles though) and has quite a desperate cry when hungry. Her little face is something I could stare at all day long.

Resolutions...

2009-11-19T14:28:00.002+11:00

Have had a bad couple of days. It's been a bit of a journey for me, and I am happy with where I have ended up.

Peggy started out sleeping almost all the time. She could sleep in any situation, any location, and for particularly lengthy periods. A few days ago - the day Phil returned to work, in fact - this began to change. And so did I. As soon as it got hard, I started to panic. I had some scary flashbacks which led me to feel compelled and absolutely determined to get it right this time, to raise a baby who sleeps as often and goes down as easily as she "should".

I was under pressure, not so much from external forces, but largely, if I am honest with myself, from myself. I got all caught up in trying to get this innocent and confused little baby to fall asleep unassisted in her cot. How unreasonable! How ridiculous...

There are two ways of looking at this, which are unhelpfully contradictory. No wonder women end up so stressed in the early days! One school of thought is that babies learn "bad" habits quickly and need to be shown what to do and how to behave from the moment they are born. All you do, apparently, is feed, burp, change, wrap and place in the cot. Walk out of the room and eventually you'll have yourself a sleeping baby. Of course, it doesn't actually work like this for everyone, myself, Otis and Peggy included! I followed these instructions, and she would lie there for a moment, and then get fractious and squirmy and unhappy. And, if you've read any of my past posts, you'll know that I am a firm disbeliever in leaving a baby to cry. So out she would come, and we'd start again... This would go on for up to two hours, by which time she'd be over-tired, cranky and hungry, so I'd feed her and she'd literally pass out with my nipple in her milk-soaked mouth. This happened for each of her three sleeps yesterday. Not a happy pattern, and exhausting for me. I can now see that she is simply too young to be taught anything, including how to sleep away from the person she was living inside of up until a couple of weeks ago. I know, rationally, that this is the case, but for some reason, I was doubting myself and my beliefs.

You see, I am a proponent of the opposing view, which is that young babies have no sense of routine, no real understanding of the fact that they are living outside of the womb, and they need plenty of cuddles and love and whatever you can give them in order to help them fall asleep. Routines work for older babies - some people argue that the three month mark is a good time to start, others believe it is not until twelve, eighteen months that routine works. Phil and I have decided that we will revisit the idea of self-settling and going to sleep in her cot when he returns home from the US, which will be mid-December. Peggy will 7 weeks old then. It still might not work, and if it doesn't, I resolve to be OK with that.

I have raised a little boy who is more than I could ever have hoped for, who is happy, energetic, enthusiastic and loving, and who eats well, sleeps well and behaves beautifully. He slept poorly until he was eighteen months old, but through it all we loved him and held him and responded constistently to him, with the result that he is now so secure in our love for him. I want this for Little P more than I want her to be the ideal sleeper. I have to remind myself of this everytime I get cross with her.

Yes, I've already called her a few nasty names, and I am not proud of having done so. But when she woke up from her morning sleep I explained to her what I had resolved, and told her I'd be kinder and more patient from now on, and I am sure the little grimace she responded with was more than just wind!

Otis adores Peggy, kisses her non-stop, holds her hand and strokes her pretty head. One of the first things he says of a morning is "Baby". She is a very beloved little person, and I am keen to show her a bit more of my love and focus a little less on the discipline.

The birth of Peggy...

2009-11-11T16:34:00.002+11:00

She's here! I am now a mother of two... Peggy was born at 1:16am, 2nd November (my 30th birthday) weighing 3290 grams, 52 cm in length and with a head circumference of 34.5cm. She has a full head of thick brown hair and is very slender. Here is the story of her birth...

Wow! It sure happened quickly... Here is how Peggy's arrival unfolded...

I had a show on the Saturday, 31st October... I was mildly excited by this, but still absolutely sure my baby would be late, even if only by a day or so. Isla's first birthday party was that afternoon, so I was quite distracted from what was going on with my body, and grateful that nothing more happened that day. I certainly didn't intend to steal Isla's thunder!

The following day was spent celebrating my 30th... It was as if somehow we all knew I wouldn't really have a birthday on the day itself. Morning tea at Noelene's was followed by dinner with my family at our local Chinese restaurant. Phil gave me a gorgeous vintage diamond ring, an eternity/maternity offering, which I just love.

That night we were watching the latest televisual incarnation of Wuthering Heights, one of my favourite books. I fell asleep towards the end, and Phil woke me to go to bed at about 10:30. I had trouble standing up due to what I thought was a Braxton Hicks contraction... Phil pulled me up, and I felt a small gush. I was unsure whether this was just another instance of me wetting myself (an embarrassing but common pregnancy side effect) or my waters actually spontaneously breaking... So I called Lani, who told me to get Phil to smell my undies. He did, and felt sick... So from that moment on I knew my baby was on its way!

The contractions started coming immediately, and I started shaking with the fear of what was to come. I frantically drilled Phil on Juju Sundin's Birth Skills, and he flicked through the book in between timing my contractions on the Contraction Master website. Lan arrived and I continued to be able to manage the pain via movement and stamping. At one point I walked around the block. We called the Birth Centre and Noelene and started to think about heading to the hospital...

Lani, Phil and I arrived at the hospital at 11:30. I spent half an hour in the children's ward, as Mum was working and was coming in to check on me in between finishing up all the many tasks she had to do. I was concerned that I would scare the children, and found this quite inhibiting. Just as it was all becoming too much for me, Lan got word that my midwife had arrived. I ran to the Birth Centre as fast as my shaking, sore and pregnant body could carry me, gown open at the back and flapping... I didn't care. I just needed some relief, and jumped straight into the bath upon arrival.

The bath was great. I felt quite in control, banging the side of the bath and breathing loudly during contractions, relaxing and sipping water in between. The heartbeat was strong and I felt quite confident. The midwife talked me out of having an internal to check on my progress, and in hindsight I think this was a great move on her part. Instead of feeling a sense of dread or disappointment due to not having progressed as far along as I would have liked, I only felt hopeful, I clung to the hope that I wouldn't be in pain for much longer...

The bath was no longer suiting me, so I moved to the fitball. Then the beanbag... My back ached in that position though, so I ended up on my side on the bed. The contractions were intense and very hard to bear, but I kept on with my techniques and was reminded constantly by my support people to breathe evenly and loudly. This really helped me. I said a few funny, trademark things, at one point told Phil off for putting more than one ice chip in my mouth at a time... I know I am a source of amusement to others when I am in labour!

Eventually I felt like getting in the shower... Once there, I felt the urge, and was encouraged to push.

One big push and... HER WHOLE HEAD WAS OUT! I was just standing there, with the hot water streaming down my back, and her head was dangling between my legs. It was the oddest sensation.

Two more pushes and she was out... The whole second stage lasted about 4 minutes. Phil caught her! He was so confident and so happy and so capable. I was very proud of him. And of myself!! I just kept thinking, "Wow, I did it!". I couldn't believe how "easy" it was. Easy relative to my first birthing experience, that is... Labour is not really easy in any sense of the word. But I was on such a high. No drugs, not even gas. I remember every single moment, and I am so pleased that I do.

Peggy arrived less than 3 hours after my waters broke!!

Phil announced that we had a girl... But then he wasn't sure. He looked again and confirmed it. There was blood everywhere, I have a vivid memory of my sister's white shoes traipsing through the puddles of blood. The cord was very, very short, so I had trouble holding her while she was still connnected...

This is where the trouble started. I got back on the bed and the midwife tried to pull the placenta out, and the cord snapped. She announced that she hadn't seen that happen in "10 years"... I started to worry.

Then it all becomes a bit of a blur. They tried to get me to push the placenta out but I had absolutely no pushing sensation to guide or assist me, and I was losing more and more blood. Peggy was cold - only 35 or so degrees. She wouldn't feed. I lay there for 2 hours while they waited for the syntocinon to kick in. It never did.

Finally at around 4am I was taken to theatre to have the placenta manually removed. I was terrified, and trembling, and alone. And it was my 30th birthday. I felt cheated of the amazing experience that I felt I had worked so hard to achieve. I had only been able to enjoy the moment for a short time before the drama began unfolding... I tried to remind myself that there were much, much worse things that could have happened to me or to Peggy... But I was still very afraid.

The anaesthetist missed the vein in my hand, and my hand is still blue from bruising. Finally he got the local into me, and then the spinal block. Everyone who cared for me was amazing - supportive, encouraging, warm. It made the whole thing more bearable.

Finally I was in theatre, with a drape up to hide my eyes from the truth of what was happening... A very large man had his arm up inside me, rummaging around rather violently! It was only supposed to take 10 minutes, but ended up taking about 40. At one point he said he wasn't sure he'd be able to get it out, and I started contemplating the possibility of a hysterectomy... I was shaking, I was so very scared and so anxious. But finally it came away. It turns out that my uterus is tilted and difficult to access... There was no way the placenta would have been expelled naturally. I was stitched up, catheterised and taken to recovery. And then, at 6am, to the ward, to my baby girl.

I will always share my birthday with my little Peggy Jane. What a birthday gift...

The wait...

2009-10-29T12:28:00.002+11:00

Waiting to go into labour is an experience that is equal parts exciting and excruciating. It can't be likened to anything else - it is one of the few things in life over which we have absolutely zero control. I am 39 + 1 today, and feel quite certain that this baby will be late... I feel fine, look a little soft around the egdes and puffy (probably as a result of how much I have been eating - all restraint has gone out the window, food has become a bit of a comfort), and am actually at peace with my inability to exert any real influence over the process. Very different to how I was feeling at this point last time - desperate and cranky, I deliberately isolated myself and was focused solely (and rather stupidly) on getting things started.

I undertook all the usual, old wives' tale-type approaches - yes, I reluctantly had sex, ate pineapple and drank pineapple juice (which only exacerbated the heartburn I was experiencing) walked and walked and walked, and stuffed myself silly with chilli. When none of that worked, I resorted to acupuncture, a move that, given my generally very sceptical views on alternative medicine, demonstrates how absolutely desperate I had become.

Did it work? Well, perahaps it was starting to... I was already well overdue when I had my first session (which I found painful at first, but ultimately very relaxing). I had the second a few days later, and the next day finally had a show. But there is no way of knowing whether that would have happened without the acupuncture! I have a little laugh inside when people share their natural induction "success" stories - because, when you think about it, given that all of these things are being undertaken at the pointy end of the pregnancy, when you are supposed to go into labour anyway, there is simply no way of ascertaining the success of such methods.

Anyway, as those of you who have read my blog from the beginning already know, I ended up being induced at 40+9, and Otis was born 10 days past his due date. As far as inductions go, it was relatively straightforward - I was already 2cm dilated when they broke my waters and switched on the Syntocinon, and it was all over within 6 1/2 hours. But I did then suffer a post-partum bleed that was horrific and painful and left me quite traumatised. So induction is not really an option for me this time. I find it hard to believe that my body will ever go into labour of its own accord, but the midwives assure me that it will! At the Birth Centre they don't even discuss induction until 42 weeks anyway, so I've awhile yet before that option comes into play...

Until then, I am OK with waiting. I am enjoying the anticipation and the mystery, to be honest - it's such a different experience this time around. I don't feel desperate. I've let go of trying to bring it on... Well, that's not entirely true. I am inserting Evening Primrose Oil capsules of a night. So far all that has done is deposit an oily residue in the toilet when I wee the following the morning! But I'll keep going with it. My midwife tells me that at Wollongong Hospital they have had some success in avoiding medical inductions using this natural method.

I look forward to having a proper labour story - you know, something along the lines of "I woke up in the middle of the night and found the bed was soaking wet", or "I started having contractions whilst watching the Survivor finale" - a story of surprise and spontaneity.

Watch this space!

Empathetic Otis

2009-10-23T16:11:00.003+11:00

Otis is an emotional little boy. He has a wide array of expressive faces and sounds that he uses to communicate how he is feeling. Sometimes it's disgust (usually when he spots a speck of dirt on his clothing), sometimes joy (at the sight of a tool, truck or motorbike), sometimes sadness (when I leave him, or when he hurts himself).

I didn't realise that he had started to grasp the concept of empathy, though. Today we were watching Charlotte's Web (the original animated classic, a favourite of mine) - specifically, the scene where Wilbur, confronted by his own mortality, sobs "I don't wanna die", over and over. It is a very sad moment. Still, I was stunned when Otis began sobbing along with Wilbur, burying his head into my chest, shaking, tears streaming...! Is it really possible he understood how Wilbur was feeling? Or was it something completely unrelated that I somehow missed that was to blame for the sudden onset of raw emotion?

Behaviour

2009-10-22T10:31:00.002+11:00

Otis is what is known as a "good boy". He's not destructive, doesn't throw tantrums (other than every now and then laying on the floor with hands above his head and whimpering), listens, obeys instructions, and spends very little time crying. I am very hesitant to take any responsibility for this, however. I believe he's inherited some of his father's gentle nature, and that biology is to thank for how easy a toddler he has turned out to be. I mean, he's still pretty demanding of me, I hear "Mummy, sit" numerous times day, and he requires a lot of affection and attention, which I am happy to give. But he's not naughty in any sense of the word.

We have always absolutely showered him with love, kissing him, hugging him, tickling him, being very unabashedly physically affectionate towards him. I like to think that this has encouraged him to treat others in the same way. He's a very loving person, and that is what I am most proud of. In terms of discipline, we tend not to stress out about tactics and methods very much - we ignore cheeky, rebellious acts and praise obedience. But that's about it. He leads a reasonably routined existence, and enjoys quite a bit of variety in his days. He eats everything in moderation - fruit and vegies, cheese, cakes and muffins, chocolate, cereal, whatever we're having... I would feel quite the hypocrite denying him the things that I enjoy (other than Coke, which is strictly forbidden... For now, anyway). He ofteh asks for excessive amounts of treat-type foods, but I tell him no and he accepts that without issue. Who'd have thought my irritable insomniac would become so wonderfully compliant?

So, maybe it's partly us, maybe it's just his innate nature... All I know is, I am thankful to have a son who is so sweet. I am enjoying our time together, and feeling both a little sad that the one-on-one period is about to end and very excited about giving him a sibling with whom we can share our days.

My shorn little man...

2009-08-31T12:03:00.002+10:00

Well, we took the plunge. We've been tossing up whether or not to cut his hair for a little while now. It grows very fast, and is always in his eyes and getting scraggly at the ends. It's such a beautiful, wheat blonde shade though, and so silky. I spray conditioner in it every morning and comb out the tangles. I've always been proud of it, despite (or, maybe because) it doesn't look particularly masculine.

Anyway, Phil attempted a trim at first. Disaster. It was choppy and chunky, and not in a good way. So Phil took out the clippers. He demonstrated on his own head first, which of course made O very keen for Phil to go ahead.

I was excited at first. He's got an exquisite face that I knew wouldn't be spoiled by any haircut. But when it was all off, I cried. And then I cried some more. And then later when he lay on my, sucking his dummy and stroking my face the way he always does, I cried a bit more. And I cried this morning on the phone to Mum. And then on the phone to Lan, while I was on the train.

Why am I so teary over this? He doesn't look bad. He looks lovely, handsome, neat, grown up. Too grown up. I think this was just a catalyst for the release and realisation of all the ambivalence I've been carrying about having this baby at this time. Don't get me wrong, I very much love and want my second child, but I feel as if I've been forced to rush my oldest baby into being a big boy before he is/we are quite ready. All this one-on-one time we've shared, our little adventures, the moments that are just ours. I won't have many more of those. I know I'll make time for us to be together without the baby, but those times will be fleeting. I don't whether I appreciated him enough, I don't know that I soaked it all in. I was too worried about sleeps, and crying, and whether I was doing it all properly. It's not about that, it's a relationship between two people, the most intense relationship you can possibly imagine. And now it will be watered down, it will be shared. It won't be the same and I don't know if I am ready.

I feel like I lost more than just some gorgeous strands of golden hair. My baby isn't a baby anymore. Time won't stand still, no matter how much I want it to.

Uh-oh, tears again...

O's vocabulary

2009-08-25T12:48:00.004+10:00

It's increasing daily! Here is a list of words he currently says. It's just what I can recall...

Hi
Bye
Mummeeee (yes, the emphasis is on the "mee", but he also says Mum too)
Dad/Da/Dada
I/I-a (Isla, his absolute favourite person on the planet)
Car
Door
Bath
Park
Baby/Bubbee
Boob
Chocshoosh (Chocolate... Yes, I know...)
Cheesh (Cheese)
Zach (his Cabbage Patch Kid)
Uck (Truck)
Bike
Shoes
Pool (he says this frequently, always wants to go)
Poo
Eyes
Bag

He also does animal noises and says "Shhh" with his finger to his lips when Isla is asleep.

The scariest few moments...

2009-08-24T13:53:00.003+10:00

Last night, I thought Otis was going to die.

He was eating some crackers with tomato and cream cheese, really enjoying them, seated at his new Ikea table and chairs. He suddenly started to cough, then gasp, snorting and choking and screaming when he had enough breath in his body to make a noise. We turned him upside down, we bashed him on the back, and every so often there was a moment of relief, and we'd think he was OK. But it wouldn't end. It felt like years. We tried giving water, we tried scooping bits out of his mouth, we tried to stay calm, but our words to one another were edged with absolute terror.

I was dialling 000 when Phil announced that he was OK. He was shaking, and red, and terrified, there was cream cheese pouring from his nose and his face was wet with tears. The three of us just collapsed in one big hug on the couch, and I cried and cried. I was thinking, "I won't ever complain about him again, I'll never raise my voice, I'll be the perfect mother..."

It was so scary.

This morning, I noticed his eyelids were covered in little red/purple pinpricks, broken blood vessels, the temporary remnants of his efforts to breathe. They reminded me of my face after I gave birth to him. The effort!

I love him so much.

My affectionate little boy...

2009-08-18T12:12:00.002+10:00

So, to describe Otis as affectionate is perhaps the world's greatest understatement. I've honestly never known a person affectionate to the same degree that he is. I love it, I encourage it, I relish it, but I'm also not 100% certain that it is not bordering on inappropriate.

We don't have a lot of physical boundaries in our house. The three of us are very free with the cuddles and the kisses, and we all walk around naked whenever it suits us. Afew days ago, I was sitting on the toilet, and Otis grabbed a handful of toilet paper and attempted to wipe my bottom for me. He tried down the front at first, and when I blocked him, he went for the back. He's trying to do for me what I've been doing for him his whole life...

It's sometimes not until you see other people react to your child's behaviour that you begin to question whether or not it is a little weird. We went to mass with Mum the other night, and he spent most of that hour stroking my face with two hands and gazing at me with the kind of loving looks usually reserved for romance novels. At one point he had one hand up my top, rubbing my now enormous tummy, and another on my boob, although this one was at least on the outside of my clothes.

People stared. Some oohed and aahed. Some looked a little perplexed. Many referred to him as a girl (because, didn't you know, only girls are capable of affection...?) I was enjoying the adoration and the intimacy, but was also feeling ever-so-slightly uncomfortable.

The next day, we were at the park with some friends. One little girl, older than Otis, went down the slippery dip with him between her legs. When they got to the bottom, he lay back on her and just smiled, enjoying the cuddle, whilst other children yelled at them to hurry up and get out of the way. Another of his friends was having a bit of a tantrum at one point, and Otis lay his head on the boy's chest and stroked him, trying to calm him down.

Is my baby going to grow up to be one of those people who invade your personal space and hug and kiss you upon your first meeting? Or will he just be a loving, tender, cuddly man who some very lucky woman will be so grateful for? I'm not sure. But I have a sneaking suspicion that the end of his hyper-affectionate ways is just around the corner, and I should enjoy his slightly freaky antics while they last.

My ambitious little boy...

2009-07-31T10:38:00.005+10:00

Recently Otis has taken to pointing to himself to indicate when he wants to participate in or be given something. He'll see the swings at the local park and immediately start gesticulating quite enthusiastically, telling me in his own, only partially-verbal way that he wants a turn.

Apparently he's also keen to:

1. Swim in the World Championships (I thought his little arm was going to fall off when he watched Michael Phelps break another record the other day)
2. Drive the garbage truck
3. Ride a motorbike
4. Go boating
5. Carry a leather handbag

He's so entertaining these days!

Managing two...

2009-06-30T12:47:00.002+10:00

I can do it :)

Otis and I are babysitting Isla Grace today... And things are going swimmingly indeed! Isla had a nap between 10:30 and midday... Otis went down around 11... It's now almost 1, Isla has been fed and changed and is happily playing (she sure is an easy-to-entertain little thing) and I'll deal with Otis whenever he wakes up.

Might go for a walk or pop down to the park before Isla's afternoon nap.

Yes, I CAN do it!!

The gender debate...

2009-06-23T12:43:00.002+10:00

I guess there are two separate gender debates I could discuss here. The first is, of course, the notion that bad mornng sickness indicates a female foetus. This is what many people strongly believe, and I am fielding plenty of very confident claims that my baby is without a doubt a girl. Time will tell. I for one doubt that gender can so easily be diagnosed. I am also in no hurry to know! Boy or girl, every passing day provides further evidence of its presence. My bump is big, bigger than the average 20 week bump at least, and I'm feeling lots of gentle swishes from within.

But what I wanted to talk about here is Otis' fascination with all things 'boy' — he shakes with anticipation when the garbage truck drives past (early Monday mornings are most thrilling at our place), opens his eyes wide and points at motorbikes whether they are passing by loudly or parked, and enjoys mimicking a crocodile's snapping jaws and an elephant raising it's trunk. Being the type of mother I am, I can assure you I in no way pushed these interests onto him. They just sprung from somewhere inside his brain. He has very few gender-specific items, one lonely dump truck and a book about trucks, a book about a racing car and a few others bits and pieces. Is this stuff really and truly inherently there from the moment of conception? Or perhaps it a case of us and his other carers encouraging, subconsciously, the interests we and society deem appropriate for him, and simply ignoring those that are feminine.

The truth is, I don't want my son to end up a macho, beer-swilling, emotionally immature, stereotypical male. I'm not saying he should dress in women's clothes or anything like that (although, if he does, I'll love him anyway), but my hope is that he turns out to be more like his father, and unafraid to be a little different. He does adore his Cabbage Patch, Zach, and gets real joy out of dressing him, wrapping him and patting him to sleep, so perhaps not all is lost. In the meantime I will do what I can to encourage an array of interest, including, I suppose, those of the transportation variety!

Pregnancy the second time around...

2009-05-22T15:05:00.002+10:00

I'll be blunt — it hasn't been as nice an experience as the first. Of course, there is the unplanned, a-little-too-soon, scary element to contend with. I only started working in February, three weeks later I was pregnant. My fear of not having a job to return to after having my baby cast a real shadow over the first few weeks. I did what I could to mask my burgeoning belly and all-day nausea, to the point of downing two glasses of wine at a work function! Crazy, but we want (need) to buy a house next year, and my wage is a significant chunk of how much we need to be earning in order to do that. Anyway, my boss was fine, and, my job will be there come February/March next year. Phew!

Then there's the fact that I have a toddler on my hands, 24-7, and no time to indulge in the wonder of being pregnant. Sometimes it takes me a few minutes after I wake up in the morning before I even remember I am having another one! The truth is, the one already functioning in the world is the one I am forced to focus on, so Bubba #2 misses out a little.

I'm much more tired this time around — a combination of a still-wakeful baby (he's getting much, much better though), balancing work and motherhood, and being anti-meat this time around! Yes, I've pregnancy-induced vegetarianism, and I think the lack of iron is leaving me extra-exhausted. I've been sick since about 6 weeks, and I am now 16 1/2 weeks... It's lasted much longer, and has made mothering my boy so very hard. All the energy I've been able to muster I've given to him, in the form of cuddles, songs, walks, park visits and the sort of enthusiasm he's come to expect from me. There's been nothing left over for Phil, or for anyone else. I've barely seen any of my friends, I've been in bed by 9 almost every night. It's an odd sort of life. Luckily my little family is all I really need.

Cravings? Citrus, pineapple, anything with a tang to it. Chocolate milk. Vegetables. At work I've been really into vegie stir-fry. My Hokka Hokka loyalty card is filling up nicely...

Despite all of this, there is no denying the thrill of witnessing my body grow and change, of hearing my newest little one's heart thumping away, of fantasising about the relationship that will form between Otis and his sibling. I know how lucky I am, I do.

Otis has OCD

2009-05-22T15:02:00.002+10:00

He's a funny little thing... He freaks out if things aren't in their place. Or if something is torn, or uneven. Last night it was one of my hairs stuck to the rim of the bath. He pointed and grunted and made an "I am so disgusted" face until I removed it. The day before, it was a price sticker on a book I picked up for him at Vinnie's. Another time, the zipper in his sleepsuit came apart, and even after I managed to fix it, he kept pointing to the spot that was broken, a panicky look on his face.

HISTORIC OCCASION!!

2009-05-04T08:10:00.001+10:00

Otis slept all night! He did not make a peep between 8pm and 6am.

I, of course, kept waking up and wondering whether he was alive.

My growing boy...

2009-05-03T12:30:00.002+10:00

Otis is doing so many funny things these days. This entry is mainly for me, it is a record of my bright and bubbly boy's ever-growing brain. It may be boring for you, or come off as bragging. It's just pride though, honestly, and a desire to remember it all...

He can walk! Finally, over the Easter weekend, he started off taking 10, 15 steps, and now walks more often than not. He seems to be being pulled along by an invisible rope, he doesn't appear able to entirely control the direction he is headed in. Priceless.

He's doing animal noises. Woofing when he sees actual, or illusrated, dogs, and growling at tigers. Gorgeous!

He loves to "read" all by himself. It doesn't matter whether the book is the right way up! He gets a thrill out of turning the pages and babbling. My mother-in-law said he mimics my tone of voice when he does this. I am so glad he likes books.

He can identify an elephant, and puts his arm up next to his head, like a trunk.

He hyperventilates over the noise or sight of a motorbike, garbage truck (absolute highlight of his week), semi-trailer, 4WD... I never, ever encouraged such masculine behaviour. It honestly just happened.

He loves Thomas and Friends (he sings along, unclearly but with pretty good pitch, to the theme song), In The Night Garden and Bambaloo. Also becoming interested in The Lion King.

Likes clapping for himself when he knows he's done something impressive.

Points out planes, even when they are only a speck in the sky, his eyes and ears obviously work well!

He loves to bite Phil's big toe, and to smell his own shoes and socks and feet. All part of the novelty of wearing shoes!

Sleeping well, waking 1 or 2 times a night, on average, and easy to re-settle.

I've moved him onto the NUK dummies, which are better for the teeth, and he loves them.

I just love him with more intensity every moment, he amazes me and makes me laugh, and I am so glad he's mine!

Bringing Up Baby

2009-04-14T13:35:00.002+10:00

I have recently been viewing Bringing Up Baby, a UK parenting documentary that screened on the ABC earlier this year. The premise — six familes test out three different approaches to parenting popularised during the 50s, 60s and 70s, respectively.

If I were to classify my own approach — taken not from any book, but derived through a combination of trial and error, instinct, common sense and love — it would probably be a mix of the 60s and 70s approaches. In the 60s, Dr Spock was the most popular of parenting gurus, and believed that you could not spoil a baby. Mothers were told to follow their own instinct and do whatever they felt comfortable with. Breastfeeding was advocated, but not pushed, and babies slept in cribs in their parents' bedrooms.

In the 70s, the Continuum Concept apparently took hold, and baby-wearing and co-sleeping became popular. Bottle feeding is not endorsed by practitioners of this approach. The general idea is that babies and mothers should be in close physical contact at all times, as continues to be practised in many tribal communities today.

I like the idea of the Continuum Concept in many ways, but I do believe that, as babies grow older, they tend to sleep better alone. Otis does, at any rate. I loved having him close as a newborn, and I'm sure I'll enjoy that experience with his little sibling, due to arrive in early November! (More on that in another post...) Baby-wearing is also something I enjoyed, but it is simply not true that you can do absolutely everything with a bubba strapped to your chest. It is very difficult to eat a messy meal, such as a kebab, for instance, without spilling sauce onto your baby's little head. It is also difficult to perform chores that require repetitive bending... Not as easy as it looks, I assure you. But I imagine I'll need my hands free like never before, when wrangling Otis and Sibling without any assistance on hand.

Now, to the point of this post. The 50s approach, as outlined by Truby King. What a vile, cold, monstrous individual he must have been, to have come up with such a method. According to King, babies should not be cuddled. They should be fed by the clock, swaddled and left outside to cry, and should, as a result of this detached approach, sleep twelve hours straight every night by the time they are twelve weeks of age. The appeal of this approach apparently lies in the fact that parents need not alter their lifestyle whatsoever. Adherence to King's strict routine allows parents plenty of time away from their babies to drink wine and watch TV. Because, you know, that is the whole point of becoming a parent.

King, and Claire Verity, the 'maternity nurse' who is employed by tired parents to instill King's methods, fills me with the type of rage I normally reserve for Rugby League-playing rapists. I was on the verge of tears watching these tiny week old bubs screaming, all alone, whilst their selfish, self-serving parents swilled cheap-looking wine and pigged out on pasta, offering one another self-congratulatory pats on the back for being able to tough it out and stick to the routine. What I want to know is:

1. Why have a baby if you do not wish for your life to change in even the smallest of ways?
2. Why is it that 'thriving' is so simplistically equated with 'sleeping through the night'?
3. How can a mother resist being physically affectionate with her own baby?
4. How can these selfish idiots sleep at night?

Honestly, I am all ears.

Otis is walking!

2009-03-16T20:03:00.002+11:00

And sleeping in a big boy bed... And growing up far too quickly.

He's been taking a short sequence of steps for the last week or two, but only very sporadically, and with no real determination to keep going. His foot is still quite turned in, but he appears to have mastered how to manage that. I need to be more vigilant with the physio-prescribed exercises. She and I both thought standing would alleviate it a little, but it doesn't seem to have done so.

Anyway, just tonight, Mum was over and we were chatting on the balcony. He walked over to grab something dangerous and age-inappropriate, and we clapped and cheered like the maniacs we are. Then, after falling, he got back up, and gave it another shot. And another. And another. He simply wasn't giving up!

His legs are so skinny. Mum keeps noting how similar they are to mine — not much shape to the poor old calves. Sorry Otskin! You inherited Mama's spindly calves.

We bought him an extendable junior bed from Ikea yesterday. He was in heaven at the store, jumping from bed to bed. hiding under the covers, lying there all sprawled out with his eyes closed and a big grin on his face. Cute by anybody's standards. Anyway, he's still waking a few times a night, but he's quite easily re-settled in his own room, and doesn't come in with us until 4 at the earliest, but usually around 5. I just wish he'd sleep more soundly between 5 and 6, 6:30, as I really don't get much sleep during that period at all. Garbage trucks, snoring, tossing, shifting Phil, and a only lightly sleeping little boy don't make for ideal sleeping circumstances. Oh well. Progress has been made.

Otis has also just broken two new teeth, top and bottom right, with another 3 or so on their way. He's managing proper food so much better, sandwiches are swallowed within minutes, and he attacks apples very well.

His new interest is babies... How telling.

He is absolutely scrumtious, and I love him more and more with each passing moment. Sometimes I think I'll just burst.

Feed foreplay...

2009-02-26T12:42:00.002+11:00

Yes, Otis engages in a very cute and innocent version of foreplay whenever he sees my naked boobs (usually when we share a bath of an evening). He starts with a shy smile. Then he'll often kiss my tummy a few times, and giggle. Then he'll kiss me, and snuggle into me, with his fluffy blond head on my shoulder or chest. He knows he's absolutely irresistable!

Next thing you know, he's on, sucking away, staring up at me.

Yes, my son seduces me in an asexual fashion, and I think it's absolutely adorable! What a little manipulator! He knows what he's doing.

Due to various reasons, one of which I will clarify in the next couple of weeks, I am trying to gradually stop breastfeeding Otis. It's not easy though, when it makes him so happy! He's been waking up and wanting it, these past few nights. I just want him to forget all about it!

Teaching Otis...

2009-02-10T19:47:00.002+11:00

I feel compelled to teach Otis new skill after new skill... At the moment, I am working on familiarising him with a few body parts. And I'm having some success! If I ask him "Where's your tummy?", he'll lift his shirt and look down. It's such fun! He gets confused when I ask about his nose though. I guess that's because he can't actually see it. Might have to work on that one in front of the mirror...

Given how interested he is in his penis, I've started naming that for him too. Somehow he is already aware that his genitals are somewhat taboo... He giggles and looks at me with a sly, shy face whenever we discuss that region of his anatomy. Is shame inherent from birth? What an awful thought.

I read somewhere that at 12 months a baby should be able to sort shapes using a shape sorter. Otis is yet to master this, and I guess I feel a little frustrated with him. Which I know, when I think about it objectively, is nasty and pushy and ridiculous, but I do! Suffice to say, every day I spend at least a few minutes sitting with the shape sorter, in serious training with my still-only-a-baby son. I guess he'll figure it out eventually. He has a shape puzzle too, and enjoys attempting to pop the puzzle pieces into the correct spaces. Sometimes he manages, and I appear suitably enamoured and excited, but to be honest, I think those odd occasions are flukes. He's just not there yet.

He's communicating more explicitly with each passing day, although not 'talking' as such just yet. When we get up in the morning, I ask him if he wants breakfast or 'num-nums' (derived from yummy, one of his first 'words'). He dances and smiles. There's no confusion! He similarly physically exhibits joy when I ask him if he'd like some cheese, if he'd like a shower/bath, if he'd like to go for a walk, if he'd like a story, or if he'd like to go to the park. He and I both know what he wants, which in itself is progress! One of the hardest things in the early days is that communication barrier. Crying just doesn't cut it!

There are two other things he's learnt to do quite well. He can roll and throw a ball, in the right direction, with some skill. I don't have anyone to compare him to, but, what can I say, to me my baby seems super-duper co-ordinated! I'm sure he'd be walking already if it weren't for his gammy foot. He climbs so well, and isn't afraid of much (aside from my absence).

Today we had fun drawing with textas! The last few times I handed him a pen and paper, he had no idea what to do with either — both went into his mouth rather quickly, and were then tossed aside. But today he removed the lid, and made proper, efficient contact between the pen and the page. He scribbled wildly, and was so impressed with himself!

Reflecting on all of this, I think, truthfully, that I spend too much time doing, demonstrating, instructing, guiding and persuading, and not enough time just being. I'll have to work on that. Yes, that's right, I'll work on the concept of not working. Babies need down time, and, perhaps, so do mummies.

Otis goes to daycare...

2009-01-29T11:55:00.002+11:00

I was so sure I'd manage to tough it out. I'm not really much of a crier, you see. But my boy does tend to bring out the teariness in me.

I felt a little off from the minute I woke up this morning. The hugs lasted a few seconds longer. I didn't realise what was underlying all of this — a sadness at having to 'abandon' him. It's not rational, it's ridiculous, but when his little knees dug deeply into my waist, and his sweaty head pressed against my shoulder, I could feel the tears starting to spring. The lovely ladies took such gentle, affectionate care of him, popping him into a highchair next to the other little ones, talking softly but confidently to him, giving me a reassuring smile. He just screamed at first. He wouldn't touch the pear muffin I'd lovingly baked. But after a few moments he did eat, sitting quietly, cautiously, aware that things weren't quite right.

I said bye-bye, kissed him swiftly, and left. He cried and cried.

I cried and cried! Walking down the street, for all the world to see.

Trying something new...

2009-01-27T20:35:00.002+11:00

So, I definitely spoke too soon. Otis had a few good nights, and then a couple of bad ones again. It has been dreadfully, unbearably hot — even in our lovely, usually-cool, well-insulated unit. We've been sleeping directly beneath the breeze of our pedestal fan, with the screen door wide open, no covers, and as little clothing as is deemed suitable when sharing a bed with an infant. All three of us toss and turn — we wake one another up over and over again. It's simply not an efficient sleeping situation. But what are our alternatives?

Well, we've already established that he hates his cot. So, one night, I had a moment of genius — I folded up our doona, popped on the floor next to my side of the bed, popped a pillow on top, and plonked him down beside me. We haven't looked back! He has the reassurance of knowing I am right there with him, the comforting familiarity of our bedroom, and plenty of space — he can roll around without hitting his limbs on the bars of his cot. There is the small chance he could roll so far as to end up under the bed, but I am such a light sleeper, I react to his smallest movements and subtlest noises.

Last night Otis didn't come in with us until 4:30am! He still sleeps fitfully, and still requires the odd a sip of water or patting session, but we haven't had ant crying episodes, and we are all sleeping more comfortably and for longer periods.

OK, I know, I probably seem to have some sort of sleep obsession. There IS more to life. My days are full to the brim with loving my boy, with watching him in amazement. He can do so many different things now — he displays a new talent almost daily. He stands alone every now and then, but is still pretty unsteady on his feet. He climbs constantly — up onto the coffee table, onto the lounge, up the sixteen stairs to our unit! He's increasingly agile. And very, very fast.

His "talking" is also improving. He says Mama meaningfully almost always now. He says "hello" — mostly to passers by when we are on our balcony — "Gor" for Gordon his goldfish, and "bd" for bird. Birds fascinate him, he'll immediately stop whatever he is doing when he hears a loud tweet, or glimpses rustling feathers. He's also quite partial to watching the garbage trucks from the balcony — so stereotypically masculine an interest I nearly cringe.

His favourite thing to do at the moment is to kiss my tummy. He lifts up my top, over and over again, and laughs his head off. Then he kisses it. I am trying to use this to teach him anatomical terms. Not having much success so far!

His favourite foods at the moment are all types of fruit — banana, watermelon, strawberries, grapes. He also loves cake, which he's had quite a bit of recently due to his dual birthday celebrations — one on the day, and another party just last weekend. He's got a sweet tooth which, I have to admit, I haven't even bothered trying to curb. I don't want to be hypocritical, after all.

12 month statistics are impressive, if a little extreme and disproportionate — he's on the 95th percentile for height, off the charts for head circumference, yet only average for weight. But, I assure you, he does NOT have that lollipop look so sought after by Hollywood starlets.

I am bursting with love for my baby, who I think is the yummiest, scrummiest, loveliest creature on the planet.

Sleep: Making Progress!

2009-01-22T13:16:00.002+11:00

Oh, what a stubborn, sleepless little thing my son has always been! I remember so vividly that first night, squished into our half of the hospital room, Otis screaming and squirming, all the nurses muttering to one another about the "unsettled" one. Yes, that one's mine! But I think we may have a turned a corner...

As all loyal readers of this blog know, I have tried a few times to wean my boy of his night breastfeeds. This has uniformly been met by incredulity and anger! He would sob so sadly that I'd reluctantly end up pulling my top up, and letting him latch on. I would spend the next day alternately bemoaning my own weakness, cursing the fact that he'd won, yet again, and hating myself for even attempting to deny him.

After a terrible few nights, and with the prospect of starting a new 9-5 job looming, I decided I'd try a modified, more merciful version of controlled crying. I planned to sit in his room and hold his hand or stroke him (no patting — for part of this grand plan was for him to self-settle), rather than leaving him to scream in solitude, but under no circumstances would I retrieve him from his cot, or breastfeed him. The night started poorly — it took an hour of following said methods for him to slump down, asleep, exhausted from wailing. I slept on an air mattress next to his cot from 10:30 until 1:30, which was when he woke up. That in itself was astonishing! But as soon as I heard him shifting, I felt sick with fear. Imagine, scared of my own baby! Silly, but so true. I refused to pick him up, just sang and touched him, but he persisted for over an hour. He just screamed. He poked all of his limbs out, between the cot slats, and bashed his head against the cot. It frightened me. Honestly, the scary girl in The Exorcist has nothing on him.

Eventually I gave in. I gave in, not so much to my baby's demands, but to my own instinct, which was telling me from the get go that this wasn't the appropriate way to do things. And I felt better the minute he was in my arms — my defeated, sweaty, sad little man.

He slept beside me, and didn't wake again until morning! So I managed to refrain from feeding him, and we were both OK. He had a few sips of water during that horror period. I haven't looked back! He has not had a breastfeed during the night for nearly a week! And he's absolutely fine.

My boobs are looking a little flaccid and diminished, I am a little disappointed to report. I guess two feeds per day simply isn't sufficient to maintain the perky fullness they once exhibited. Small price to pay for a better night's sleep though.

Things aren't perfect by any means. I still believe that he may never "sleep through". But 4 out of the 6 nights since have seen him wake only once or twice, which is a dramatic improvement.

A few headlines, just to tease you...

2009-01-19T20:34:00.003+11:00

OTIS STANDS, UNASSISTED!

OTIS ATTACKS HIS MOTHER'S BREASTS AT INAPPROPRIATE MOMENTS!

OTIS HOLIDAYS AT THE SEASIDE!

OTIS TURNS 1!

OTIS MEETS HIS NEW PET — GORDON THE GOLDFISH!

ROCHELLE AND OTIS ARE REUNITED IN THE BIG BED AFTER UNSUCCESSFULLY PURSUING A MODIFIED VERSION OF CONTROLLED CRYING!

OTIS IS WEANED OF NIGHT FEEDS AND WAKES ONLY TWICE PER NIGHT!!

OTIS MUMBLES A FEW WORDS OF ENGLISH!

ROCHELLE HAS A JOB INTERVIEW!!

Public VS Private...

2009-01-05T11:23:00.004+11:00

I firmly believe that the unexamined notion that the private system offers better outcomes for mothers and babies when compared to the public system is a serious misconception. People really need to be more informed as to the very different attitudes proffered by midwives and obstetricians before they make their selection.

I could not be happier with the care I received in the public system. I was at all times made to feel empowered and respected. I achieved the drug-free — well, do a few puffs on the gas really count? — birth I had hoped for, and experienced a quick recovery.

If you are at all interested in this debate, have a read of this article:

http://www.smh.com.au/news/national/public-hospitals-versus-private-
the-painful-truth-about-childbirth/2009/01/02/1230681748836.html

SMSs sent and received, 14th and 15th January 2008...

2008-12-31T10:44:00.002+11:00

Rochelle: Just had my waters broken! It's all happening. (14/01/08, 19:44)

Emily: Good luck Shelly! I'll be thinking about you OK. Love you. (14/01/08 19:45)

Renee: Oh my god. Am so excited for you! Good luck and I look forward to hearing more news. Renee xx (14/01/08 19:45)

Alicia: Great news. Stay strong and safe delivery. I'll never forget bub's b'day if born tomorrow. It's my wedding anniversary. xoxo (14/01/08 19:47)

Kez: Wooohooo! Go you good thing. Good luck! Oh how exciting! (14/01/08 19:55)

Ez: Yay yay yay! Good luck, you'll be fabulous. (14/01/08 20:04)

Elise: I am so so so excited! I don't think I've ever been this excited! And you are so calm. You are amazing! (14/01/08 20:16)

Alana: Wow! So exciting! You are going to do great. My phone is broke so this is Ben's number. Love you xo (14/01/08 20:33)

Kez: Is it out yet? Just kidding. How am I supposed to sleep? Just think, tomorrow, what a great day! (14/01/08 20:34)

Tess: Wow! You'll be great! Remember the pain will end. Let me know (14/01/08 20:59)

Jade: What's happening? Is everything OK? I don't know if I'm going to be able 2 sleep 2nite from excitement! (14/01/08 22:24)

Rochelle: Otis James is here! He is perfect. Born at 2:25am, 3940g and 54.5cm. He has hair! And huge feet. We are thrilled. (15/01/08 03:55)

Alison: Congratulations xxxxx love Alison Michael Joshua Samara and James (15/01/08 03:59)

Elise: I am so so happy for you! Congratulations! Amazing! I hope you are all fantastic and can't wait to see you all (15/01/08 04:07)

Katrina: Congratulations. I'm thrilled for you. Enjoy your little man (15/01/08 04:08)

Alicia: Well done and congratulations. Can't wait to meet him xoxo (15/01/08 04:08)

Kez: I told you I couldn't sleep! Congratulations all 3 of you! Can't wait to meet Lil Otis. Enjoy the cuddles! (15/01/08 04:08)

Ez: Congratulations to you both! He sounds perfect. I can't wait to meet him. I hope you got through it OK xxx (15/01/08 04:10)

Tess: I am so happy 4u guys. Congrats. Can't wait to meet him. Big hugs 2 u and him. I bet he's absolutely beautiful. Love 2 u all xoxoxoxox (15/01/08 04:11)

Jade: Oh my goodness! Congratulations! I love love love the name. He's already tall for his age! I hope your not too sore. Luv u all xxx (15/01/08 04:14)

Mum: I am so so proud of you and Phil too! You were amazing and my grandson is perfect! I love you very much and welcome to the exclusive group that is motherhood! (15/01/08 05:11)

Brett: Congrats to you both, very happy for you guys, looking forward to meeting your little man! Brett (15/01/08 08:00)

Rhiann: Congratulations guy! Wonder what took little Otis so long? When do you think you'll be home? I can't wait to meet Otis, but I'd rather come and see you in hospital and let you settle into life at home uninterrupted. This great guys, well done xxx (15/01/08 08:56)

Renee: Congratulations! I am so excited and happy for you all. I can't wait to meet your new little man! Renee x (15/01/08 09:08)

Ez: Good morning mummy daddy and otis. I hope you're feeling ok this morning, it must have been a big night. congratulations again, it's so exciting xxx (15/01/08 09:29)

Alana: Congratulations! So happy for you both! Can't wait to see you! Beautiful name! (15/01/08 09:54)

Katie: Congratulations Rochelle! I can't wait to meet your beautiful son. Kristen said you were amazing. Look forward to catching up with the new Hammond family xox (15/01/08 10:16)

Bart: Congratulations Rochelle and Phil! Can't wait to see him! (15/01/08 10:17)

Mark: Congratulations darl!!! Hope you're feeling OK and hope Otis James is well... And Phil... See you soon (15/01/08 10:19)

Lan: I love you so much. Am quite sure the most amazing birth ever. I am the proudest sister ever. You were unbelievable and a bit funny also. I'm in love the the cutest baby alive! You did it! (15/01/08 11:26)

Otis' First Christmas

2008-12-31T10:32:00.002+11:00

The day certainly failed to match my expectations. It was lovely, so lovely, to wake up on Christmas morning all snuggled up with my little man. I breathed in his yumminess, and remembered Christmas 2007, the impatience and fear and desire. I had no idea. None.

After waking up at around 6, Phil, Otis and I emptied our stockings (a team effort, made by Katrina, Phil and I), to find lots of chocolate-y delights. Otis enjoyed a foil-covered Santa and a foil-covered teddy bear for breakfast! I had also included a car t-shirt, some rubber Halloween bats, some jungle animal figurines, and a very special, Bonds chesty, featuring a custom-made 'Dad' tattoo transfer — I gave Phil a matching tattoo-emblazoned chesty. His, of course, read 'Otis'.

We headed over to Mum's, and all sat around the tree, opening gifts with gusto. Otis was given a rocking giraffe (Santa), a box of Duplo (us), a Dr Seuss book (us), a bubble (Santa), a spinning Elmo chair (Mum), a kick/boogie board (Bart), a Bananas in Pyjamas ball (Mum), some Christmas bibs (Jord), a Baby Genius San Diego zoo DVD (Lan), a bath toy (Lan). Then at Noelene's he received a book and a football (Noelene), money for the WeeRide, which we purchased yesterday (Noelene), a pull-along puppy (Ben and Kim) and a Reebok tracksuit (Sandra).

He was very cute in his Santa suit — complete with the words Ho, Ho, Ho on the bum — but VERY clingy (I heard no end of it from Harvey, as per usual) and very tired. It was all just too much. He slept for 2.5 hours in the middle of the day, which gave me time to enjoy my meal and talk to other adults. But he was dreadful again by dinner time. Not a happy boy.

Maybe next year will be different!

Communication...

2008-12-22T20:30:00.002+11:00

Otis is starting to communicate so much effectively! It's so much fun. Finally, I have a bit more insight into his mind... I am getting acquainted with him on a whole new level. I love it.

He now waves the moment he hears the words "bye bye" or "goodnight" uttered. His waves vary in style, enthusiasm and effort — if he's feeling lazy, or, perhaps, a little reserved, he simply flops his hand about, the movement only starting at the wrist. This is minimum effort, maximum cuteness. At other times the whole arm flaps up and down madly, accompanied by a manic cackle and massive, toothy smile. Sometimes the whole body moves as well — this is more of a goodbye dance. He waves to all and sundry — me, Phil, Grandma, the ladies at the fruit shop, characters on the TV screen.

The biggest development, which has occurred only this last week, is that he is now pointing. He points in awe at things beautiful and bold — a squawking cockatoo, the black and gold taped telegraph wires that hang above the crossing on Morts Rd, Christmas ornaments... Dare I say it? Me! He points because he wants to get closer to whatever it is he's selected. This is, most often, me. He's very clingy again all of a sudden. His happiest moment is when he climbs on top of me after waking in the morning, we lie there, chest-to-chest, cheek-to-cheek, and breathe against one another. He often strokes my face, pulls my hair. Sucks furiously on his dummy. I've never been on the receiving end of such infatuation before!

Another thing he's doing now is mimicking us. He's far from accurate, but there's no mistaking it. I say "byyyyyyye" and he says "baa". It's the start of something...

He's shaking his head more too. Mostly when I try to feed him and he's not interested, or when I ask him to give me something ("Ta, Otis"), or when I tell him not to do something naughty.

At 11 months he weighs 10.4kg and is 78cm tall.

The selfish side of parenting...

2008-12-19T09:41:00.002+11:00

This is an idea I have for a freelance piece, so I'll only be very brief in communicating it here.

There is a notion that mothering is the pinnacle of selflessness. How untrue this is. In some ways, it brings out my worst, most selfish side — it reveals this to me, and, also, perhaps, my son.

I am a mother because I wanted to be. I fantasised night and day about snuggling up to a warm little body, about carting around a cute little face — a cute little face I created. I relished the spectacle of my pregnancy. I felt smug about my ability to conceive and carry my baby to term.

Me, me, me, me, me...

I could go on.

Why is it that I love him ever so slightly more when he's asleep?

Right now he's sleeping on our bed — his bed, too, I guess — next to his Daddy, who's reading. He's sprawled out, sweaty and absolutely stunning.

Things I love about Otis...

2008-12-05T10:22:00.002+11:00

I love his long hair, the white gold threads that cover his ears and curl at the nape of his neck.

I love his two scarily sharpened bottom teeth, the teeth he exposes whenever he smiles.

I love his fits of giggles. His face splits in two and widens. His cheeks redden and his eyes sparkle.

I love his sturdy little legs, legs that allow him to stand with assistance, to crawl at a furious rate, to climb, to pull himself up whilst holding onto my jeans. He stares up at me beseechingly, innocently, as if he knows how irresistable he is.

I love the way he forces complete strangers to interact with him. He coos and laughs and stares until they respond in kind. He's definitely not shy!

I love the way he shakes his head when he's had enough breastmilk or food. He closes his eyes, smiling, seemingly so satisfied in the knowledge that he is communicating with me.

I love his searching toe. I love that he has a searching toe. Phil says its searching for Mama...

I love that he now sleeps so well during the day. His day sleeps are predictable and easy. One 1.5 hour morning nap, and one 1 hour afternoon nap. Perfect.

I love his reaction to other children. The joy and excitement is palpable. He kicks his legs, waves his arms, grins and hyperventilates. You can't miss it. This gives me confidence in my decision to book him into Occy's Place for next year. I know he'll be just fine.

I love that, when he's in the mood, he'll now wave goodbye.

I love cuddling him, warm and stunningly pretty, during the night while we sleep. I used to want him out of our bed — now I cherish the fact that he's still in it, for much of each night, knowing just how much I'll miss it when it no longer happens.

Australia...

2008-11-27T12:39:00.002+11:00

I saw it last night. Rarely has a film made such an emotional impact on me. I guess mother/son scenarios move me that much more since having Otis. In the film, Nicole Kidman's character becomes something of a mother to the gorgeous, endearing little Nulla, and has to eventually face up to, not only his Aboriginality, but, more significantly for me, his maturation. He has to "go walkabout", to become a man.

I have been thinking so much about Otis getting older, getting bigger, becoming a boy as opposed to a baby. It makes me sad. I want him to stay attached to me, to continue to adore me and crave my affection and nearness, to always be as physically close to me as he is now. I don't want him to get tall and pimply and hairy and sarcastic. But I know that one day he will. And of course, one day I just know I'll be so proud of the man he becomes. But right now I am trying to savour his smallness.

He's not that small! He's nearly 10 kg at 10 months of age. His weight gain slowed down a little over the last month, I think because he went through a phase wherein refusing food was something of a game to him. He's back to eating lots and often. He's 76 cm tall, still quite tall for his age. I bought him his first proper pair of shoes, little black Dunlop Volleys, and they look incredibly cute paired with a slogan tee and jeans or cargos. I really do love dressing him! In him I get to assemble the kind of outfits I'd wear if I were male.

He's been crawling properly now for about 2 weeks. He's quick and sometimes, a bit like a 4WD, just drives straight through/over whatever is in his way. He sometimes waves goodbye now, and will sometimes pass something to me if I ask and put my hand out. He also shakes his head "no" if he's had enough food or boob. His hair is getting long to the point that people are frequently mistaking him for a girl — luckily this doesn't phase me.

Sleep at 10 months of age...

2008-11-14T21:08:00.002+11:00

Two steps forward, one step back. There is always something.

This week Otis has had two wonderful, restful nights, only waking once or twice, which has been such a change. Of course, I miss him when he's in his cot, as much as I am desperate for him to stay asleep in it longer. Oh, there's no logic.

Anyway, he's falling asleep in the evening fairly easily, with the help of Sammy the Seahorse and lots of patting. Oh, and a breastfeed, of course. But the day sleeps are another thing altogether. He's staying awake for 4 hour periods, so 7-11, sleep for 45-90 minutes, the awake from 12ish-4ish, then sleeping 'til 5:30!! This is too late. It then puts his bedtime back to 9 or so, which means I get no TV time, so non-mothering time, and it absolutely sucks. I am so drained right now, after a long evening.

The other thing with the day sleeps is the amount of time and stress I am putting into settling him to sleep. He just wants to roll around in his cot, sit up, stand up, hold on to the bars, and laugh. It is incredibly draining and frustrating. Sometimes tear-inducing. I hope it's just a phase...

Speak up, speak up!!

2008-11-12T14:05:00.002+11:00

Hmmm... Since people in my life started having babies, I have come to realise that I am not alone in the struggles I face on a daily basis. Yes, to the outside world they are all happy, happy, joy, joy too, but I know what goes on behind closed doors, and it bears an eerie resemblance to what goes on here.

I just wish mothers would speak up more about how hard it is to be a mum! Please, I beg of you, stop pretending. It is so wrong, all this pretence and posturing. All it does it make other women feel like abject failures.

I am so glad I finally worked this out. My new enlightened state is fantastic! I know, now, that most babies spend at least some of the night in their mummys' beds, that everyone, no matter how intelligent/confident/maternal/capable finds some aspects of mothering "challenging" (read, impossible, and that things get better.

Speaking of getting better, Otis slept 8-2 in his cot last night!!? This is totally unprecedented.

He's been eating some yummy food of late. Last night I pureed canellini beans, chicken thighs pan-fried with garlic, spinach from our potted garden, and olive oil, and he couldn't get enough. He's also loving a coconut and vanilla custard I'm making. Here's the recipe for anyone interested:

Combine 1 tsp vanilla essence, 1 1/2 tsp caster sugar, 3 tsp dessicated coconut, 5 heaped tsp rice flour/ground rice and 300ml milk in a saucepan. Stir over medium heat until it reaches the desired consistency. This does Otis for 3 nights of dessert!

Thoughts on being a "working" mother...

2008-11-03T10:10:00.002+11:00

Although my work is entirely unpaid, at present, I am feeling the strain of being pulled in numerous directions, and the guilt that inevitably comes of spending time away from one's babe. I have lots of little deadlines to deal with, as well as, of course, one major deadline — a submission date. I have been working any chance I get these past couple of weeks, and Mum has been a huge help, taking Otis for a few afternoons last week as well as all day Wednesday, as per usual. The upside is that I get time away from him to focus on my writing. The downside is that I feel bad for offloading him, jealous of the time Mum has with him, and lonely as hell without him.

I keep catching myself wishing I had nothing else but mothering with which to occupy my time. But then, would I still be me? Writing and researching and thinking, thinking, thinking is such a part of who I am. And I think having that time away, as busy and stressful and non-relaxing as it is, helps me to be able to focus entirely on Otis when I am not working on my thesis. It adds to my own sometimes skewed sense of self-worth, and connects me to the real world, or, rather, my old world, a world that didn't include dummies, breastfeeding and patting a wriggling child to sleep.

The birth of my niece, Isla!

2008-10-31T07:52:00.002+11:00

Yesterday was a most unforgettable day. I was woken at 6:30, not by my little man, but by a phone call from Adam. Apparently, Lan thought she might be in labour. "It hurts!!", she said. As soon as I heard that, I started making plans. Phil called school and told them he wouldn't be in, I showered and pumped and headed off to Sutherland Hospital with Mum.

Katie, Adam, Mum and I were Lan's support team, but, to be honest, I'm pretty sure they could have done it without me. I felt a bit redundant, not having the midwifery knowledge that Mum and Katie do. I found it incredibly difficult to see my little sister in such pain. I didn't know I'd feel that way. I was stunned by how frustrating helpless, how very despondent and fearful I was feeling. Maybe it was because the pain is still quite real to me, I really empathised, knowing that it would only get worse, knowing she still had to push. It seemed so abjectly unfair — why should my sister have to go through that? Why should anybody? I hate it when midwives carry on about how beautiful and lovely the birth process is — yes, the actual delivery is a moment that can't be matched, but the (in this case, 11 hour lead up) is agonising, fraught and so very, very long. It's horrendous. There's no other word for it, and I would feel negligent in describing it any other way.

Everything started off textbook smooth. Lan laboured at home for about 3 or 4 hours, and was 4cm dilated on arrival. She then jumped in the shower, used the gas, and had a bath, and contractions were strong and regular, but she was coping. Then, much to our surprise and disappointment, we were told she had only progressed 1cm. Upon hearing that, she became slightly defeated, and stressed, and anxious, and, of course, the pain became unbearable, in light of the fact that she still had so much more of it to endure.

But once she hit 6cm, things really took off. Isla was born in the bath, after only 40 minutes of pushing, and her purplish little face let out a big healthy cry almost immediately. Lan's relief was palpable, and there was so much joy in the room. Isla is just perfect — 3550g, 50cm, 34cm head circumference, and a full head of hair. She looks like Adam from the nose down, but has Lan's eyes. She's little and pretty and, most importantly, healthy. I don't know if I'll ever witness a birth ever again — giving birth is just not the same as witnessing it — not sure whether I could. I'll never forget yesterday, and never forget the courage displayed by my beautiful, strong, capable sister.

Things are good. Great!

2008-10-23T15:43:00.002+11:00

We are a very happy twosome... I know we're actually a threesome, Phil, Otis and I, but most of the time it's Oat Boy and Mama, one-on-one. And it's great! Last night I fed him to sleep, which was bliss after a few weeks of crying and extended patting (me) and hair-pulling (him). He only woke up twice, snuggled up to me keeping me warm on one of the coldest October days in Sydney's history, and made that angelic little pouty face that he does when he sleep. I must take a photo of that...

He's getting faster and more daring with his bizarre, chest-dragging crawl. Phil calls him the carpet shark.

Eating quite a bit — new things this week include blueberries and Magnum! Hmmm... Only a very occasional treat. He's worked out that he loves chocolate, though. I was ripping open a Freddo the other day, and he started gasping as soon as he heard the tear and saw the milky brown goodness!

I am a little stressed simply because I am so damn busy. Trying my best to finish this chapter, care for him, keep house, and maintain relationships!

Drained... But OK.

2008-10-17T14:44:00.002+11:00

Not only does Otis sleep poorly and thus leave Phil and I both rather exhausted, but when he's awake he is just non-stop. Seriously, he is never still. He won't play for very long alone, it's usually only a matter of minutes before he's reaching out to me to hold him. And then I'll pick him up, and he'll want to get back to the toy he'd been playing with. Then he'll play again, then he'll want me again, then he won't want me. It's incredibly frustrating. I can't have a conversation, I can't eat, I can't read, I can't clean. I'm hoping once he's properly crawling and getting himself around that he'll be so busy exploring every inch of the carpet that he'll forget about being clingy to me.

His new favourite meal is a puree of canellinni beans and chicken pan-fried in garlic. He wolfed that down last night and again today for his lunch. He's still enjoying his Weet Bix with strawberry puree and milk, and loves summer fruits and Milk Arrowroots. He'll be having avocado mashed with tinned salmon for dinner tonight. Brain food for my developing boy.

Just saw Bonnie and Emily. They have to WAKE her for feeds! They HAVE TO WAKE THEIR BABY!! It is a totally different world. I have never woken Otis — well, never on purpose, there have been numerous occasions wherein I have accidentally put a saucepan down with just a tiny bit too much force and thus woken him — and can't imagine having that much time sans babe-in-arms. Just goes to show that much of the sleep issues babies have are there from the get go.

Bonnie is such a pretty girl, and she's putting on weight well. All is as it should be. I am so happy for the three of them.

Now I am just waiting for Lan to pop! Pop! It's such an odd expression. There's really no popping involved. Still feeling very strongly that little HD is a boy, but you never can know these things. 50% chance either way, I'd say!

How I hate to be away from him...

2008-10-15T10:34:00.003+11:00

I am missing him terribly this morning. Now that he is just so overtly enamoured of me, it makes it at once more difficult to be around him AND more lovely. He really does adore me at the moment, last night he literally screamed when I left the room, and when he walks in the door with his Dad after a trip to the park, his smile is so huge it almost doesn't seem real. Mama, mama, mamamamamama... I love it!

Anyway, he'll be mine again tonight and we'll have plenty of cuddles and kisses.

Last night was great, after a tough afternoon. He slept 'til 12, and then 'til 3:30. An excellent night for my poor little sleeper.

Nine months old today. Wow. 3/4 of a year already gone. The best and worst year of my life, undoubtedly!

Yes, the best and WORST. It's always both at once.

I need a drink...

2008-10-13T19:52:00.002+11:00

It just took me thirty minutes of patting to get Otis to sleep. No crying, just lots of squirming, kicking, pulling at the sheepskin, pulling my hair, and poking his feet between the cot rails.

My back hurts, my wrist and forearm hurt and I need a glass of wine like never before.

Dairy-free dieting...

2008-10-13T14:59:00.003+11:00

No, it's not because I am keen to shed a few kilos... Although that is certainly true, weight loss has never been enough of a motivator for me to ditch the chocolate and the cheese. Mum spoke at length to a colleague of hers who also works as a mothercraft nurse. She talked to this woman about Oti's tendancy to squirm during the night. Mum and I both think it indicates discomfort of some sort. Anyway, this woman suggested trying a dairy-free diet — he and I — and see whether there is any change. Apparently lactose intolerance is quite common in babies, and lead to all sorts of tummy problems and pains. So, as much as it's hurting me, I haven't eaten any dairy products for the past two days.

Anything for my little boy, hey?!

I am in two minds about this. On the one hand, if there was a magic solution to his fractious sleeping habits, I'd be thrilled. On the other, if it does prove to be the problem, I'll either have to a) continue with the dairy-free diet, or b) put him on formula until 12 months of age. I'd feel so sad, all of a sudden denying him the boob. It would break my heart. But so, too, would Christmas without chocolate or ice cream...

Names...

2008-10-09T14:52:00.001+11:00

I love how people are giving their babies such funky, everything-old-is-new-again names these days. I know of an Olive, a Bonnie, a Byron, a June... Lots of lovely new little people with cool, vintage names.

Happy...

2008-10-08T10:11:00.004+11:00

Emily gave birth to Bonnie Matilda yesterday. I am so unreservedly thrilled for the newly formed family. Just can't WAIT to meet Bonnie, and to meet Mama Emily. For it IS like being reborn. Emily WILL be different, and that's not a bad thing.

I keep thinking about what I want to say to her, what I wish had been said to me... What I keep coming back to is THROW AWAY ALL THE BOOKS. The basic factual stuff is important, but advice and the tactics and the strategies and the should, should, shoulds... I'll never consult any of that again.

I am just so happy right now. The day I decided to do what feels natural and comfortable was the day I finally felt like a good mother. I have given myself permission to make my own choices, and to have confidence in those choices. Otis is such a joy, he makes me smile and laugh and fills me with awe. When I hear him call my name — my new name, Mama, not Rochelle — I feel all warm inside, the way you do after that first glass of wine. I am so in love, and it is a beautiful, magical feeling. To quote one of Oti's favourite books — When I'm Feeling Happy, by Trace Moroney:

When I'm feeling happy, I feel B-B-BOUNCY and full of joy.

When I'm feeling happy my face feels smiley, and everything in the world feels especially wonderful...

Yesterday we took him swimming at Hurstville Aquatic Centre. He amazed me! He goes under and no longer comes up spluttering and shaken — he comes up with a smile! He kicks his little legs and can hold onto the edge all by himself, for minutes at a time. He really is clever.

He drinks from a cup unassisted now, and barely spills a drop.

He's moving more and more... I predict he'll be crawling within a week.

New things...

2008-10-03T16:25:00.003+10:00

Otis has started shaking his head so as to indicate 'NO!' when he has enough food or water. He does it with a cheeky grin splitting his face in two. It's very cute, and very indicative of the little person he's quickly becoming.

He's climbing! He can't crawl, but, boy, he can climb. He can pull himself into a standing position, although can't stand unassisted just yet.

He says 'Mama' all the time now, whenever he wants me and can't quite reach me. Music to the ears!

For awhile now he's been picking things up with his feet, as if he's been the victim of a horrible hand amputation or something. Such a little monkey!

He eats anything and everything now... This week, for instance, he's loving hummus. He's also been fortunate enough to sample chocolate gelato, strawberry smoothie, aioli, feta and spinach dip, and lamb cutlets.

His day sleeps are so very unpredictable... This morning he slept 2 hours in his pram, and he's been asleep this afternoon for over an hour already. Yesterday he only had one sleep of 45 minutes and was absolutely fine! Routine? This boy laughs in the face of routine.

Sleeping with me from about 10/11 most nights, which I am now 100% at peace with. Phil still makes a bit of noise about re-settling him in his cot at that time, but it's just so easy this way. He's been fairly easy to re-settle when he wakes through the night, usually I can do this without feeds, it just depends.

Clingy...

2008-10-02T11:57:00.002+10:00

One of the main changes in recent times is that Otis has gone from being happy to passed around like a parcel at a kid's birthday party to crying for his Mama whenever I leave the room! It's intense and, in many ways, unpleasant, but it is also nice to feel so very wanted and loved. These past few days he hasn't been quite so bad, perhaps because Phil is home on holidays, so we're spending less one-on-one, baby-on-Mama time. So many of the photos I've taken recently depict him with arms outstretched towards the camera, face red and concerned. He'd like me to just carry him around on my hip all day long. I, obviously, am not all that keen on that idea!

During the wedding ceremony in Noosa, Phil had to literally hide Otis so that he couldn't catch a glimpse of me. The minute he does, it's "Mamamamamama..." accompanied by a great big lurch towards me.

What bugs me most, though, are the reactions of others. Other parents generally don't say a word about it — although his Nana and Pa seem inexplicably put out by it all — but childless people love to make comments along the lines of, "Oh, what a Mummy's boy!", or "Don't be such a whinger Otis!" I know they don't understand that this is but a normal stage in a baby's development, and that, if he weren't incredibly attached to me there'd be something seriously wrong, but it still frustrates me that, even after I've explained this patiently, they continue to provide a commentary on the apparently anti-social behaviour of my boy. One such person compared him to a relative of hers — a relative who is 6 months or so older (!), and who "goes to anyone".

Why do I care? I'm not sure. I am not usually someone who cares all that much about the opinions of others, but, for some reason, when it comes to my son and my parenting, I am really sensitive. I try not to show it, but I certainly feel it. It probably has to do with my confidence, or lack thereof, as a mother. I don't know what I'm doing half the time, but I am always, always trying my very best, so comments like these can feel like a bit of a kick in the guts.

One day they'll all get it!

My angelic son...

2008-09-23T09:37:00.002+10:00

Well, who would have thought.

Otis was a dream baby whilst we were holidaying in Noosa for Ez and Brett's wedding. He slept for lengthy periods — day AND night — eased up a little on the clinginess, cried rarely, smiled and laughed often, and looked adorable in his newly appropriate summer clothing. I feel so relaxed and rejuvenated after such an easy few days away. I was dreading the experience, to be honest, but it was such a happy, stress-free time. Perhaps we should just move up there? I'd do almost anything to get my baby to sleep as well as he has been.

Luckily, it appears to be continuing now that we are back home. Last night he only woke up twice! I have been putting him down at night at 8 rather than 7, perhaps this is making the difference? I have also placed a pillow in his cot — yes, I know, totally irresponsible of me, but he's big boy now, in my opinion — and have returned his cosy sheepskin as well, so maybe he's simply more comfortable. All I know is, I would be miserable too if I had to sleep sans pillow.

He fell off my bed yesterday for the first time. It scared me silly, but he is absolutely fine. I heard the thud and felt sick... His arm was twisted underneath him, but, fortunately, his head had fallen on to a pillow, breaking the fall a little.

So, things are looking up! He's with his Nana at the moment, she has him Tuesday mornings so as to a) give me some real time out (which is usually spent doing housework, unfortunately) and b) bond with him a little better.

He's just started being able to move around a bit better. He's pulling himself up on things, and can shuffle along on his chest... Not quite commando crawling, but it's progress nonetheless. It really exhausts him, he literally groans with frustration and effort.

Sleep, sleep, sleep...

2008-09-13T11:12:00.002+10:00

Things have come to a head. For the past few days he has only slept for 30-45 minute spurts during the day, and is waking hourly for the first few hours in the evening, before coming in with me and sleeping reasonably well (not 'sleeping through', by any means, but giving me 3 hours of sleep at a time). So all day, I am getting about 3-4 hours break from him. That means he is pretty much hanging off me for 20 hours EVERY DAY. I don't remember ever signing up for attachment parenting! This is NOT what I want. I can't take it anymore.

My face is all blotchy and tired looking, my eyes all small and puffy, and my head aches from sobbing. I feel pulled between intense love, adoration for my boy — my boy who is happy and chatty and fun and beautiful, but who cannot, will not, sleep as he should — and serious, scary resentment. Why do other babies fall asleep in their cot of an evening and not wake again until the sun comes up? What are those mothers doing that I am not? Which move was it, exactly, that got us here? What the hell am I doing wrong?

I've tried innumerable approaches, none of which have worked for us. Mum believes controlled crying is the only way to fix this. But it is simply not an option for me. I am stuck, as they say, between a rock and a hard place.

I hate that, when I hear him waking and walk into his room to see his stunning, smiley, cheeky face, all I feel is frustration. I hate that so much.

Staving off PND

2008-09-09T15:10:00.002+10:00

There. I've said it. For the past week and a bit I have been experiencing something that definitely resembles depression, but have been hesitant to label it that. But it's OK, I am OK. I am managing to hold it all together and keep my head above water. I was diagnosed with depression about 5 years ago, and was prescribed anti-depressants, and undertook Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT). The therapy was a real success, and I've implemented those strategies at numerous times in the past few years. What I learnt about the way I think has really changed me, for the better, and has allowed me to come through many stressful situations virtually unscathed.

I did the Depression Score online, and got 11, so I am just bordering on "Possible Depression". I am aware of it, and am doing everything I can to stop it from progressing any further — lots of positive, objective thinking, talking to people who are supportive, and taking time out from mothering, when I can. I think it's the combination of the hormones associated with ovulation (I've had two periods now), the tiredness (it's starting to wear me down), Oti's recent, OTT clingy behaviour (if I am in the room, I am the only one he wants!! — it was cute in the beginning), as well as the usual Gabby-related dramas... I've had a lot on my plate, emotionally. Oh yeah, the thesis too, how could I forget?!

I've been panicky, anxious, impatient — especially with Otis, which makes me so sad, irritable and flat. But the beautiful Spring sunshine and warmth, my son's toothy smile, and the support of my wonderful husband, my dear friends, my Mum and my sister, are helping to improve my mood. I am learning to value what I do each day, to take pride in the little things. It's not easy, though, to consider hanging out the washing an accomplishment, when I am used to measuring my worth in terms of publications and writing-related praise. I'll get there!

Update on Oti's progress:

— eats lumpy, mashed meals, plus large, soft pieces of bread and kiwifruit, and gobbles down Cheesesticks (the Bega ones are best)
— eats dessert (custard that I make using rice flour, caster sugar and cow's milk)
— sits, no problem
— says Dada, Mama, Baba and NO!
— enjoys playing with pots and pans
— starting, very, very slowly, to mobilise (Phil calls it the "wounded soldier crawl", and it only happens if we bait him with something shiny or colourful, like a fish to a lure)
— stands with the help of nearby inanimate objects
— plays games that involve anticipation
— has two teeth and knows how to use them!
— sleeps for at least an hour at a time during the day (yipppeeeeee), usually 2 x 1 1/2 hour sleeps per day
— charms the pants off every person he meets!!

Love and weakness...

2008-08-31T15:53:00.003+10:00

So, the strategy... Easier said than bloody well done. That's my verdict!

The night started smoothly. I fed him and left him to self-settle, which he did without a sound. Amazing!! But when he woke at 10:30 for a feed — he was 'asleep', but crying, and seemed hungry — he was impossible to get back down. He screamed and screamed. Phil did his very best. But how do you go on when your baby is crying so forcefully and with such desperation that there are pools of tears in the crevices of his little ears? I couldn't do it. We couldn't do it.

I did manage to hold off with the feeds though. He's not having any milk between 10 and 5. That part seems to be working, and he IS waking less frequently. But he's still in with us, which I honestly do not mind one little bit. I just love his sleepy face, his milky breath on me all night, his body folded up against mine. It's heaven.

I am working on getting him to self-settle during the day, it's a battle. It's so frustrating! To think he could do this with hardly any fuss, only a month ago. Yesterday I had PMS, and was feeling oh-so-irritable... It really broke me. It's the control thing again. I canNOT control him. I can guide him, I can try to teach him, but he's an individual person, a very separate entity with his own ideas, his own plan.

I have decided to stop beating myself up about all this. Sleep is threatening to take over my life — not the act itself, but the the thinking about it, the planning and plotting and strategising. It's crazy! Who really cares?

I feel such immense love for him that I cannot bear to see him sad, the sound of his screams just pains me, it kills me. I keep telling myself to be strong, to be tough, but when it comes to my Otis I am the weakest of the weak.

A new sleep strategy

2008-08-27T12:20:00.002+10:00

After a week of excessively disrupted sleep, courtesy of my little, restless angel, I bundled him up in the pram and walked up to the Oatley ECHC yesterday. I gave the nurse a history of his sleep patterns, and the various tactics we've employed with mixed success. She was lovely — non-judgmental regarding the co-sleeping, direct and specific. This Friday night, I am NOT feeding him AT ALL overnight. I may give him one final feed at around 10, but I'll then pop him back in his cot, and Phil will re-settle him in the cot as many times as is required, until around 4 or so when I'll bring him in for the morning. No milk! He'll freak! But, as the nurse said, he's only feeding overnight because he knows no other way of calming and comforting himself.

When we re-settle him, we are NOT to pick him up or stay in there for more than a minute. We can let him cry for up to 5 minutes at a time, no longer. I can do that. I think...

I am petrified! But we have pre-emptive plans in place... I am going to give him a extra meal during the day, I am going to offer the breast every 90 minutes or so, all day long. I am going to stock up on Coke and DVDs to keep us awake, occupied and entertained. Phil is to do the settling so as to break the wake=feed association. The poor man will be so tired the next day, as he isn't used to having the erratic sleep that I am so accustomed to.

Stay tuned! I am hoping for results within days.

The Time Traveler's Wife

2008-08-25T14:52:00.002+10:00

This excerpt is such a wonderful, real account of how it feels to long for a baby. I remember feeling just like this, it was a feeling that ate me up, that enveloped me. Nothing else mattered apart from conceiving that baby, my baby, the baby who ended up being Otis. Perhaps there are other, better, passages about this same thing, but this is the one I noticed, the one that spoke to me in my post-longing, post-conception, post-pregnancy, post-baby life:

"I was simply not thinking about a lot of important stuff because I was completely drunk with the notion of having a baby: a baby that looked sort of like Henry, black hair and those intense eyes and maybe very pale like me and smelled like milk and talcum powder and skin, a sort of dumpling baby, gurgling and laughing at everyday stuff, a monkey baby, a small cooing sort of baby. I would dream about babies...

I suddenly began to see babies everywhere; a sneezing red-haired girl in a sunbonnet at the A&P, a tiny staring Chinese boy, son of the owners in the Golden Wok (home of wonderful vegetarian egg rolls); a sleeping, almost bald baby at a Batman movie. In a fitting room at JCPenney a very trusting woman actually let me hold her three-month old daughter; it was all I could do to continue sitting in that pink-beige vinyl chair and not spring up and run madly away hugging that tiny soft being to my breasts.

My body wanted a baby. I felt empty and I wanted to be full. I wanted someone to love who would stay: stay and be there, always. And I wanted Henry to be in this child, so that when he was gone he wouldn't be entirely gone..."

"Baba!"

2008-08-25T14:51:00.000+10:00

My boy's first word.

Happy, restless, sick little man...

2008-08-21T15:20:00.002+10:00

He's a happy, smiley little bundle, but very snotty, and has been for a couple of weeks now. His night sleeping has reverted to that of a newborn, and I am doing the very thing I was always so determined NOT to do — I am feeding him to sleep. Day and night. We've just had such a rough time of it, I am doing what works, even though I know it is probably establishing problematic habits. I'll fix it all — yeah, like it's that easy! — once his nose stops leaking like a tap. I think he may have inherited the Lyons family allergies. There has been so much dust around, not only throughout the move, but at Mum's due to the installation of her new kitchen.

Anyway, it's not all bad... He is sleeping for at least a hour at a time during the day. We have foregone the first morning sleep, so he is now awake between 6:30 and 10:30.

He is eating really, really well, which makes me happy. He had fish for the first time this week, and really enjoyed it! He gags less on lumpy foods, and I worry less when I give him a finger of toast. Doing very well with a cup, and quite keen to feed himself with a spoon, but I'm not permitting that just yet. The one thing that hasn't agreed with him, for whatever reason, was Heinz Chocolate Custard! It will be very odd if the baby Phil and I created has a chocolate aversion.

His two little teeth, still just stumps really, give his wide-faced smile a bit of extra character. He has his own toothbrush now, and he loves it when I brush his teeth! He goes all still as if to concentrate on the sensation.

His current favourite bath toy is an empty mineral water bottle... He could play with that for hours. Honestly, babies don't need toys! Just give them rubbish to play with.

He's a little more clingy to me lately, which is lovely in a way — it's always nice to feel needed and wanted, of course — but also tiring, and not something I wish to encourage.

Swimming lessons begin on Saturday!! He and Phil are going together, it will be their "thing", but I am along for the ride this weekend, as photographer/observer.

At nearly 7 months...

2008-08-13T16:09:00.002+10:00

Otis:

— eats three solid meals a day, usually cereal and fruit at breakfast, avocado or yoghurt at lunch, and vegies with cheese or meat at dinner
— continues to breastfeed at night, sometimes all night long!!
— sits for lengthy periods, but still tips over now and then
— says "babababa" quite clearly
— shakes with joy at the sight of a leafy tree or Mama drinking from a water bottle (he loves to share)
— plays peek-a-boo with a towel or sheet
— is quite handy with a rattle
— rolls around as a mode of transportation... no sign of crawling just yet!
— has two teeth, which arrived fairly painlessly
— weighs nearly 9 kilograms...

Bad Mama!

2008-08-08T12:50:00.002+10:00

Oti and I just popped down to the shops, and on the way one of his socks fell off... It is freezing cold and blustery, and I was getting glares left, right and centre.

Whilst old women with trolleys, boisterous butchers and other, smug, mothers managed to make me feel like a terrible person because my son's sock fell off — the other one was still there, evidence, surely, that I did actually put a pair of socks on him — Otis just smiled and cooed and kicked and laughed, not a care in the world... Babies are much tougher than we give them credit for!

A bit sad about the sock though, as it was a favourite... A lovely, electric blue shade, and Bonds to boot.

In other news... My boy has teeth! One is about millimetre long thus far, the other just peeing through the broken skin of his yummy, pink, sloppy gums. He's been somewhat out of sorts lately, I am guessing this is why. He's also still quite snotty. He's sitting well, rolling this way and that in a rather compulsive fashion, and charming the pants off everyone he meets. Yesterday we did the big walk over to Grandma Peggy's at Connells Point, she just loved spending a couple of hours in his company.

7 months next week! What a learning curve these 7 months have been... Next time I'll ban all books, dismiss all advice, and do what feels right and instinctive... I spent too much time worrying that I was doing the "wrong" thing, and too little living in the moment...

I got my period!

2008-08-01T12:13:00.002+10:00

I feel really strange... I haven't had a period since 3 April last year, so it's been awhile. It's nice to know that it's all still working properly down there — it is a nice reminder of my fertility, of the fact that I'll have another little Otis at some point in the future. It also makes me sad... Sad that that whole "period" of my life is over. It is a period in more ways than one — a full stop signalling the end of the amazing journey that is conception, pregnancy and birth. My baby is no longer fully reliant on me for sustenance — he has fewer breast feeds now, and can be nourished by others.

Getting a period is also an absolute pain in the ass — I haven't had to bother with tampons for almost 18 months!

An amazing couple of weeks...

2008-07-23T12:26:00.002+10:00

I just loved having Phil home for the holidays. We spent 2 1/2 weeks together, the three of us, a tight, intimate, loving little unit. We picnicked at Canterbury — a lovely, yet cold, grey-skied day that featured Otis' first choking episode (a soldier of wholemeal toast was the culprit). We ate together, every meal — Otis usually eats in earnest, to begin with, but by the end is whingey and wants to be held, and prefers sucking water from a cup to chomping down the calories and nutrients he really needs. On Phil's birthday we enjoyed Spanish churros and Baci shakes at San Churros at Glebe, and I shared my whipped cream with Oti — he loved it! We played Scrabble, sans Otis, in the evenings whilst he slept, fitfully.

Otis has choked a couple of times over the past few weeks. It's usually due to my negligence, I'll admit — the bread incident occurred when I turned my head. It was very scary, Phil had to reach in and dislodge the chunk of toast he'd managed to gum away from the larger slice. Then, in the car, on King George's Road of all places, I was spoon-feeding him from the passenger seat. It was mashed — albeit, not mashed enough — avocado. It did cross my mind that this was not a safe thing to do, given that he was tightly strapped in and that I had only very awkward access to him — but for some reason I went ahead regardless. It probably had something to do with the crying! Anyway, all of a sudden he went very red, and made no sound. I alerted Phil to the problem, and he went to veer onto the median strip... Luckily he swallowed and all was well. Phil and I felt rather queasy with fear, though...

He's unwell at the moment, just a cold at this stage. His breathing is a little louder, a little faster, and he's sleeping poorly. He's in with me all night. As soon as he's recovered, I am going to start being stricter, in preparation for his move to his own room once we relocate to Mortdale (in less than 2 weeks time!!!)

His favourite sound is "aye", his favourite song is still that short little refrain from Sister Act 2 that I pulled from nowhere one day and have sung to him ever since... "If you wanna be somebody, if you wanna go somewhere, you better wake up and paaaaay attention..." His favourite toys are the foam animals from his Farmyard Animals book, they are removable, easy to clean, and he enjoys trying to tear them with his teeth.

Happy Half Birthday, Otis!

2008-07-15T14:42:00.002+10:00

Otis is 6 months old today... Wow. I have no idea how I filled in 6 months worth of time. I think I spent most of it telling him how beautiful he is. I hope he doesn't end up having an inflated ego! The fact is, he IS beautiful... I am pretty sure it's not just a mother's bias... He's a great looking little guy. I'm lucky! But his joyous, inquisitive nature is his best feature. He's just a happy boy, a curious boy, an always-on-the-go boy.

Phil is on holidays at the moment and is really relishing his time with Otis. He slept next to Phil the past couple of mornings, and Phil just loved it. He reached for Phil for the first time yesterday, and Phil, with a huge grin on his face, proclaimed "Otis just made my year".

So, here is a typical day in the life of Otis, 6 months of age:

5:30-7 — He wakes for the day. Laughs, cuddles, perhaps a small feed, a story or two, and then back to bed for an hour (with Mama).
8:30ish — Breakfast (Farex/porridge with stewed fruits) and then shower, we also hang out the washing (O loves to lay on the grass and stare at the sky and the trees blowing in the wind, whilst I sing and work.
9:30ish — Time for a walk! I take him in the Strider. We walk around the streets of Ashfield/Summer Hill, around Kmart, check out the puppies at Petsworld, sample a Baker's Delight treat.
11ish — Sleep in the Strider.
12ish — Wake up, home time. Breastfeed, and lunch (either natural yoghurt or avocado).
1ish — Play, read...
2ish — Wrap and sit with Mama at the Mac.
2:30ish — Left to self-settle in the cot. Sleep for either 45 minutes or 1.5 hours.
3:30ish — Cuddles with Mama!
4ish — Walk in the BB.
4:30ish — Breastfeed...
5:30ish — Dinner at the table with Mama and Dada (mashed vegies).
6ish — Bathtime!
6:30 — Bedtime stories, breastfeed...
7 — Bed...
10ish — Wake for a feed
2ish — Wake for a feed

Progress!!

2008-07-02T12:18:00.003+10:00

Yes! Woohooo!!! [Insert image of me, jumping up and down, here...]

My baby has finally forgone the 10pm wake/feed... For the past 4 nights — yes, there has actually been some consistency!! — he has gone to bed at 7, and stayed asleep, in his cot, until 1am!!!!!!!!!!!

The joy, the rapture... I can't explain it. It is so lovely to have time with Phil, it is such a luxury, to be able to cuddle up in bed feeling relaxed rather than expecting to be up again within the hour.

He then wakes again sometime between 3 and 4:30, and then, again, sometime between 5 and 6:30.

I don't make as much milk as I used to, now that he is eating solids so eagerly and feeding less frequently, which, I admit, makes me a little sad. I guess I feel slightly redundant now — anyone can feed him his Farex. But this change brings with it more flexibility and freedom, which I wholly welcome.

My Aryan child!!!

2008-06-26T15:32:00.003+10:00

I forgot to mention two crucial recent happenings:

1. We cut his hair! We cut off the mousy brown ends of his newborn hair, that bizarre ring around his head that made him look to be wearing a ill-matched toupee. He is now obscenely blond — I feel almost guilty, to be mother to such a stereotypically gorgeous, cherubic creature. He is all blue eyes, rosy, begging-to-be-pinched cheeks, kissable, rosebud mouth and shining, golden hair. He's so yummy! He looks fatter now too, and I could totally understand why Phil mimed sticking forking into him when we were at a restaurant the other night.
2. Phil decided he is to be moved into his own room. I couldn't argue with his logic... I just cried. My baby. My little boy, who was a speck of a thing not so long ago, is moving into his own room, out of arm's reach.

"He's just like you..."

2008-06-26T13:39:00.002+10:00

Both Mum and Dad see so much of me in Otis. It's an amazing thing, to see a tiny replication of myself! He not only looks like me — he behaves just as I did. He's very curious, fairly demanding, increasingly entertaining, and terrible at sleeping. Last night he woke at 9, then 11 (for a feed), 2:30 (feed) and 5. At 5 I tried to ignore him, in the hope he'd drift off again, but no... He was raring to go!

Phil and I have decided to buy a king size bed! We figure we'll be sharing it with babies for the next few years, so it should be worth the extra cost. We've chosen a really cool, metal frame, and are in the process of negotiating a price.

The one big development is that Otis has finally learnt to self-settle. I was at my wit's end a few days ago — I felt as if I was spending all day, every day, patting/rocking/shushing/singing him to sleep. Mum suggested that I wrap him up, give him a kiss, pop him in his cot, close the door and jump in the shower, and go back in ten minutes or so if he screamed. I'm no advocate of controlled crying, so was very apprehensive, but, lo and behold — there was no crying involved! The little cherub moaned in a somewhat pathetic fashion for about 5 minutes, and was then silent! I've since put him to bed fully awake, and left him there to fall asleep himself, for every sleep bar those middle-of-the-night moments.

He's loving his food. Mouth opens like a baby bird, and he gets all agitated and greedy. He's had Farex, pear, apple, avocado, potato, sweet potato, carrot and pumpkin so far.