I love catch-up's. With or without kids. Three course meal or simple snack. With or without a cocktail. During daylight hours or after dark. With friends or family. I have to say, I am partial to a good old fashioned catch-up.
My catch-up today went a little something like this:
With kids (four tiny tots)
Simple snack (homemade sandwiches)
Without a cocktail (unfortunately)
During daylight hours (lunchtime)
With friends (two fabulous gals, Manda & Ursh)
...and one very inquisitive King Charles Spaniel called Zoe.
The three of us all gave birth to babes in 2010. Therefore poor Angus was a little out of his element, but he still managed to command a sufficient chunk of limelight. Never the shy violet my boy. We had Bailey, the eldest of the babes, at eight months old. Felix, six months. Then beautiful baby Olivia, just 12 weeks. What a little lady she is. So petite. So gentle. So thoughtful.
Then, there are the boys. Boisterous, loud, physical. Boys. I know, they are only babies. I also know that they will surely become even rougher & tougher as they get older (I only have to look at Angus to realise that). Even now, they're exhausting. I have noticed Felix is gradually taking on a more active, even aggressive, demeanor while at play. Hmm, thank you Angus! At least it is still in the innocently curious stage of baby slaps and grapples. However, I am keeping a close watch on my generously proportioned six month old, as he already has the mischievous twinkle in his eye. A twinkle I have seen before, in a certain three year old I know.
So while the boys slugged it out on the floor. Rolling, Crying, Giggling. We nattered, listened and shared the latest, in a good old fashioned catch-up.
For a saying I'm not particularly fond of, it seems I repeat it to myself ad nauseum, when it comes to preparing for the task I had today. It was that time again, it seems to roll around in the blink of an eye. Immunisation time. As Felix is now six months, he was up for his fourth set of routine injections.
I am becoming better at tackling the ordeal these days. With Angus, it would make me feel sick with worry leading up to, during and after the jabs. Until I realised (or accepted) it had virtually no impact on him whatsoever. Sure there were a few cries and a couple of tears shed, but when I stood back and surveyed the situation, they were mainly my cries and tears.
It is glaringly obvious to me how essential immunisation is for my boys. Whilst I understand opinion is somewhat divided on this topic. Personally, I feel it is almost my obligation to do everything in my power to protect them, our family and society in general. The alternatives are too devastating to comprehend. Dare I say it, sometimes we have to be cruel to be kind. Alright. I said it.
As it turns out, Felix is made of the same hardy stuff his big bro is made from. There were No tears. No cries. Plenty of smiles. Oodles of charm. And a massive sense of relief for his mama when it was all over. Add to the productive visit, his somewhat impressive six month vital stats. Little-big-man now weighs 11.5kg and measures 76cm in length (no wonder those size 1's are fitting him like a glove!) He is hands down off the chart of "averages" in weight, height and head circumference. Our doctor's only concern... my back. Apparently it shows I have good core strength to be carrying such a heavy load of baby around. Who knew?!
This evening has proved a tad more challenging, with a slight fever and a couple of unsettled outbursts... from Felix, not me, this time. Nothing a drop of panadol and some TLC from Mama hasn't been able to cure though.
So, immunisation is complete, at least for another six months. In the meantime, I'll be working on a new line of thought to help calm the nerves next time round (I kind of stole this one from my Dad, who mentioned it the other day in relation to a matter he has been dealing with and well, I like it).
Anticipation is often greater than realization.
Late December/early January is a significantly hectic period for us on the party calendar... kid's parties that is. Let's face it, they are the little socialites afterall. They are the ones who receive multiple invites (sometimes for the same day and just last weekend same day AND time!) But we (long suffering parents) are the ones who graciously put in the hard yards.
The ferrying back and forth to each venue. The gift purchasing (never an easy task to find something cool, yet original). The hyped up, over tired, grubby little child-of-lucifer at the end of every party. Our reward? We get to take them home! Of course.
I am, however, so very fortunate to be a part of a network of fabulous Mum's, otherwise known as my mother's group. It's amazing, how almost three years ago, eighteen complete strangers, with the only thing in common being a six week old newborn babe (and being first time Mama's) were randomly thrown together by the nurses at the local baby health care clinic. And wow, do I feel privileged that we have this kind of support available to new mama's. Although at first it felt as though they had proceeded to 'throw us in the deep end and let us sink or swim'. Three years on, we have experienced some of the most gratifying, enduring, hysterical and occasionally psychotic moments possible, as a mother. Which is why I will add, it is so much more than a mother's group nowadays. More an outlet. A mutual admiration society. Friendship.
Of course, we are not the voluminous group we were in the beginning. Over time, we've seen some dwindle into obscurity; the odd one decide the group wasn't for them; a few lost to circumstance, ie. have relocated to other areas or states (happy to say we do still keep in touch across the miles). Even so, there are still eight from our original group who catch up regularly. Hence the considerable amount of '3 year old' party hopping we have managed over the last 2-3 weeks.
So, Angus had a tremendous time over the weekend, attending two fun filled parties for his little friends, Finn and Maya. There was plenty of cake. Lots of giggles. A great deal of sweat (yes, 98% humidity is always a treat at a kids party). A pleasant goss session (ahem, for the mama's). AND most of all, loads of magical memories shared.
I am finding myself in a very precarious position of late. I feel vulnerable. Need protection even. In my wildest dreams I didn't think this would happen. I had not envisaged even coming close to wanting what I want right now.
At this very point in time, I'd LOVE another baby! All of a sudden the protection I'm requiring is of a very contraceptive kind. Although that is not exactly what I am referring to here.
More importantly, I need to get myself through the current adorably delicious chubby bubby phase I'm blissfully sailing through with Felix. I recall this 'danger' period with Angus. When Angus was aged from around 6 to 12 months, I was convinced we needed another baby. The glorious smiles & laughter. The sweet dulcit tones. The heart warming baby cuddles. They would surely last forever. yeah? yeah?? Well, kind of, but this time with one toddler under the belt and a hell of alot more hindsight, I have no excuse. It does get tough again... just around the corner. Hello Terrible 2's!
I recall a good friend asking me on Angus' 1st birthday about our plans for another bub. Bearing in mind, this friend has produced three beautiful babies, in as many years. Clearly NOT a good example for someone with my cluck cluck clucky genes. I digress. Anyway, she told me that the longer I waited, the potentially harder and less likely it would be for me to want another child. She wasn't half wrong. As if almost like I had been programmed to shut down the desire for another bub, soon after Angus turned 1, I went cold on the idea of expanding the brood. Well, something must have gone haywire with the programming, as I regained the desire to conceive Felix some months later.
Unfortunately, I'm not grossed out by nappies, I kind of enjoy breast feeding and I have an overwhelming urge for challenges. Oh. I'm in danger alright.
Therefore, the next few months I MUST remain stoic. I need to focus on the 10 months (yes 10 months!) of back-breaking, leg swelling, nausea inducing pregnancy. The zombie state that consumes me as soon as that newborn greets our world. The ridiculous jealousy we have to endure from the other sibling/s.
I CANNOT be swayed by the cheeky baby coo's. The roll upon roll of chub spilling out of every singlet, jumpsuit or pair of shorts. The cuddles, snuggles and smooches. I must keep my head down and aim for the 12 month line. A place I know once I get to, will keep me safe. For at least a period of time, from which I might be comfortable in heading down the baby path again. Who honestly knows?
AND if I can just keep my busy fingers off the camera for a while and STOP taking delightful photos like these, I might help my cause. Even if just a fraction.
Boy, do we have a GEM (aka Green Eyed Monster) around here. Mostly, one can never be too sure just when this little beast will rear it's scornful head. But there are a handful of standard occasions, when it does and at these times, one better watch out.
I am so perplexed with this child raising stuff. I mean, I've read alot about babies/toddlers/children. Their moods, habits, traits. I've also talked alot... and to many... about such matters. However, when you're knee deep in the moment, all the good advice and best ideas in the world just don't seem to cut it.
So, I'm thinking it was kind of naive of me to think that the sibling jealousy had vanished completely. Or maybe it was just that I didn't think the little monster with the green eyes would be back so soon. He only just went away for pity's sake!
As we have moved on from the delightful "stop kissing boobie Felix" stage, I thought the transition from bottle only feeds, to solid food, might be rather simple. Smooth, if you like. Ah. Not so. Felix has just started solids in the last week, as he is now over six months (SIX MONTHS already! this is another shocking scenario entirely) and after a couple of days on bland baby gruel, he was yearning for something a little...tastier. Thank you Mama! So, he graduated! He has now tried pumpkin AND banana. He is doing smashingly, might I add (much in the same way his big bro... the 'GEM'... took to solids when he was a wee babe).
I only have to reach for the freezer door and even before I've laid a finger on one of the little frozen fresh portions of pumpkin goodness, Mr Green Eyes has shot to my side, hurling a swag of three year old abuse. "Don't feed him Mama". "Felix doesn't need food". "Feed me some pumpkin, I like pumpkin".
And so it starts. For the approximately 5, or so, minutes Felix is trying to enjoy his first tastes ever, we have a little monster in our midst. Trying to lean in, push aside, strategically manoeuvre himself between me... the spoon... and Felix. When this gets old, he fetches his own spoon, in a desperate attempt to muscle in on the meal time and eat his fill of pureed pumpkin, just so Felix doesn't. This monster really is something.
I know, as with the breast feeding, this new found disgust with Felix eating solids, will pass. Almost every stage children go through is transient. Thank sweet baby Jesus for that. So maybe next time the GEM comes knocking, I won't be so surprised. Pfft. Yeah. Wishful thinking.
My eldest baby boy has just celebrated his third birthday. Wow! How these last three years have flown. When I think about how he has developed. How I have developed. How our family has developed. It's enough to fill me with immense and long lasting joy and satisfaction.
This. Right here. Motherhood. Is what I have always wanted to do. Although there are days, in which I question, in fact, what the hell I am doing and I do have fears about what I will be doing when my babies are babies no more. For now, I am content to ride this wave of love, smiles and tears all the way to shore.
Watching my big three year old boy celebrate with his little friends and some of our family last weekend, I experienced the full gamut of emotions mentioned above.
We were lucky. Oh my goodness, we were lucky. The weather forecast was anything but promising. The clouds above testament to the forecast. And even as I shakily constructed not one, not two, not three, but FOUR text message updates to our party guests, on whether or not the party would go ahead. In the end, it did. (reading over that last sentence, I am struck with how incredibly nutty I sound... I'll revisit that one some other time).
The sun literally decided to shine, minutes before our 11am start time and blessed us with it's spectacular glow for the duration of Angus' party. I lost track of how many people said how lucky we were and this summer, with all it's erratic fury, we were in fact, lucky.
Lucky. That we had 12 beautiful, fun loving children running, screaming, playing in our gorgeous local park... not 10 seconds walk from our front door.
Lucky. That those 12 spirited kiddies (and parents) were outside in the breeze and sunshine... not crammed in to our 3.3 metre wide terrace home... yes, it would have been interesting finding a piece of floor space for everyone, let alone somewhere for all of them to sit.
Lucky. That I'd organised a delightful young lady from a company called Face Fiction to entertain and amuse the kidlets. She wowed them all with her incredible balloon sculpting skills, for a whole hour in the middle of the party. Heaven for the adults!
Lucky. That The Women's Weekly provide the BEST party cake ideas under the sun... so that even an amateur like myself can pull off a half decent looking kid's cake.
And lucky MOST of all, to have a little man named Angus for all of this to be in honour of. He had himself the happiest of birthdays. So did we.
So the wheels very nearly fell off my blogging wagon, from starting off like a shot out of a gun, to complete desertion for almost TWO. WHOLE. MONTHS. What have I been doing? I guess just a common case of life getting in the way. But this will simply not do.
There has certainly been no shortage of thoughts swimming around in my sometimes addled head. There has been plenty happening, from day to day. Week to week. The kids have been growing (always good); Changing; Learning; Reaching new & important milestones. I have been rolling with... and fending off the punches... of said new & important milestones. We've had Christmas. New Year. Memorable catch ups with family and friends. Birthdays. Parties. And time has just, well, moved on.
Most days I have mused "I'll post something on my blog today" and when I'm crawling into bed at some ungodly hour, I realise, the day just wasn't long enough. Tomorrow for sure. I have a raft of excuses I use to justify why there is just not enough time, however I ALWAYS manage to devote some of that lack of time to reading other people's blogs. And I wouldn't be without that time. I get so much out of the amazing blogs I read. They allow me to think. Laugh. Cry. They give me strength. Direction. Hope. I admit I am partial to the 'mummy' blogs, because at this point in time, that is my 'thang' and there are just SO many great ones out there. But at the end of the day I just enjoy having a good read and escaping the "daily grind", as I so often refer to my life as.
Anyway, while I'm not a firm believer in New Year's Resolutions (as let's face it, how often do they actually take), I would like to set myself a goal this year... or a goal with two parts.
Part 1: To post on my blog regularly. If not daily, at least bi-weekly. Or even weekly.
Part 2: To get myself some followers. I do have one. My beautiful friend and super talented blogger Laura from http://rainbowtatt.com/ ... but knowing Laura, she is just being kind & supportive (big hugs to you Spunky!)
Not bad goals. To my way of thinking. Please watch... this... space.
