Family fun times

We have just been enjoying 10 days of Family Fun Time as DH took some well-earned and much needed time off from work. It didn't all run completely smoothly but the good definitely outweighed the bad.

First: the bad (or less-good). We had planned to spend the weekend down at Red Hill while my parents were overseas but the forecast was for four days of solid rain and 13 degree temperatures. Red Hill is always colder and wetter than Melbourne, so it was not looking good. I imagined trying to entertain a toddler away from most of her toys, books and out of reach of interesting indoor activities and was afraid, very afraid. So we changed our plans and tried to think of nice things to do around our (warmer) house.

We went out for morning tea and looked in the toyshop, went to the library and did lots of playdough and cooking. Then it was time for our big indoor trip to the Children's Museum. Yay, I thought. Plenty of room to run around and lots of things to do. Well worth the 40 minute drive and having to pay for parking.

Off we went and alarm bells started to ring when the museum car park was full. Oh well, we thought, maybe everyone is at Imax for the school holidays. We went to the overflow carpark via a quick detour through the city (aaargh, hook turns! Haven't done one of those in years) to get money to pay for parking. Got out, walked over to the museum, failed to really process that there sure were a lot of people hanging around under those big Pompeii exhibition banners...

There must have been three hundred people in the queue for entrance tickets. Seriously, three hundred. And no line for people who just wanted to go to the Museum, Goddamnit. If we'd known it would be so busy we could have bought tickets online, but we didn't, so we hadn't.

Abi was already starting to flag and after it was clear that it would be at least a forty-five minute wait in the queue, we decided to cut our losses and go to the pretty cool adventure playground next door. It is a good playground, but I don't know that it's worth driving 40 minutes for and then paying 12 bucks for parking. Although we were glad of our parking space when it started to pour with rain again and we retreated to our warm cosy car to eat the packed lunches I had made with such optimism that morning.

Abi had fun though. See?

The following Wednesday was a beautiful sunny day so we decided to visit Chesterfield Farm, a children's farm near our house. We had often seen it while driving and talked about visiting but had never been. Abi was keen to see the guinea pigs, which are always her favourite things so off we went.

We saw a cow being milked:

And then tried to find the guinea pigs. Sadly it turned out that although their were guinea pigs on the farm they were free range ones and in spite of DH's most concentrated efforts, we couldn't catch one. Adorable baby rabbits were an acceptable alternative:

We bought some food to feed the bigger animals, but I really didn't think Abi would be brave enough to do it. I was totally wrong though, look at my confident girl! So, so proud of her.

Over the weekend we went to stay with my parents who had just come back from their Europe trip. It was lovely lovely lovely to see them and Abi was so excited. Mummy was definitely fourth man on the totem pole with adoring Nanny, Dranpa and Daddy around. Except, obviously, if she fell over or woke up in the middle of the night. Lucky Mummy gets all the best jobs.

On Saturday we went to the zoo and had such a great time, even though it was very cold and windy. There was plenty to see including the gorgeous butterflies, elephants and some adorable gibbons which obligingly sat right up near the viewing window for us. It was a family group including a little baby which swung and jumped and cuddled its mother in a way that was almost calculatedly cute. Abi was especially delighted because it had 'mi' with its Mummy several times.

We looked at animals for about an hour and a half and then went to have delicious yum cha at a new zoo restaurant which was having its very first day the day we were there. Risky? Possibly, but we were glad we took the risk as it was delicious. Expensive, but worth it, and beat hot chips and battered savs effortlessly.

Unfortunately just as we were getting ready to go, my thoroughly over-excited 2 year old tripped while running and whacked her forehead on the concrete ground. We got ice onto it straight away but decided to take her to the Children's Hospital to be checked just in case. I was imagining observation and x-rays and cat scans and all manner of horrors, but by the time we got to the hospital (just five minutes from the zoo thankfully) she seemed completely fine and her chatty, bouncy self. The triage nurse sent us to the after-hours GP clinic after checking her pupils etc and she was soon given a clean bill of health by the GP there. We didn't even have to wait that long, and our most difficult task was keeping her from climbing on all the furniture and from coming to close to a little boy who looked like he had some kind of fungal infection.

Not a great ending to our first zoo outing, but we concentrated on all the lovely parts:

Then when we got back to Mum and Dad's she burnt her fingers on a light globe. Sigh. 10 minutes under the cold tap stopped any blisters though, but I was exhausted by the end of the day.

Mammoth post, but before I go, I have to record that my littlest baby is quite the dancer! I first started feeling little pokes about three weeks ago, but now I can feel him/her bouncing around from the inside and out. I love it so so much and I must appreciate every little poke, prod and roll of this, my last, my treasured, my darling baby. Mummy already loves you so much, precious one.

15 weeks, 4 days in pictures

15 weeks

This is the first actual belly shot I've ever taken. I'm really not sure why I didn't take any when I was pregnant with Abi. I thought about it, but somehow never got around to it. I don't think I was self-conscious but obviously there was something going on. I kind of wish I had now so I could compare them but oh well, at least I'll have a few from this pregnancy.

It's the same with breastfeeding pictures, for all the hours I spent/spend breastfeeding I have very few photos. Maybe it's at least partly because I'm the person who takes photos in our family, DH never seems to think of it, so unless I specifically suggest taking a photo it doesn't get taken. I think I'll try to be a bit more pro-active with our next baby as there are actually very few photos of Abi and I together. Bit sad really, we did take some at her second birthday party but she was sick and looks sad and ready for bed in all of them. Our pink dresses are nice though.

Dear Abigail Pearl (the beautiful girl),

Now that we are not writing monthly letters to you I am worried all the adorable things you do will be lost. So here is a letter to you aged 28 months, nearly two and a half!

Mostly what you do now is talk. Talk talk talk to Daddy and I, telling us all kinds of interesting things about everything that is happening around you. You love to commentate on what your friends are doing, especially when you go to music class with Freya; when I ask you what happened at music you say "My friend Freya run, run, run. Freya mummy chase Freya, Freya fall down!" Freya loves having such an appreciative audience. You still love your friends Hamish ('Oooh') and Dylan ('Diya') too and you refer to your other playgroup friends as "other people", but I think you like them a little bit at least.

It is especially lovely when you talk about how much you love Mummy and Daddy. You often say to mummy, "I love my mummy, very much. Mummy loves her Abi very much." Of course, it sounds a bit more like "I uv my mummy ve'hy mu." but I always know what you mean. You like to remark on the fact that you are my daughter now too, and you often have loving things to say about Harry.

Sometimes you talk about things you did last night or yesterday, which I think is very clever. One of the things you often talk about doing is jumping on the bed ("Abi do ittle bit jumping. Abi do ittle bit jumping las' nigh').

Another game you enjoy is the funny name game. You like to say "my name Abororo" or something similar and we all laugh and laugh. Then you say that Mummy's name is "Vrororo" or "Ababoabo". After a little while though you look a bit concerned and remind us that really my name is your Mummy.

This term you started doing Mini Maestros on a Wednesday with Daddy when Mummy is at work and you love going every week. You are getting very good at clapping and shaking instruments in a rhythm and last week you got the chance to play with the big colourful parachute, which was great fun. You loved going to music from the very first lesson and I know Daddy loves taking you and watching you have so much fun. I haven't been able to see your music lesson yet, but I am hoping to one day.

We took your little trolley to the supermarket the other day and you were very proud to be pushing it around collecting up groceries. It was a big help and everyone who saw you smiled adoringly at you because you looked so serious and sweet. Every fortnight you and Mummy go to the supermarket together and we have a very nice time. I think now we will be taking your trolley with us each visit, I just wish the shelves weren't so high.

I will say goodbye now my darling one. You are my treasure and my joy, I watch you with amazement as you grow and change.

Lots of love

Mummy

Things that wail "mi" in the night

So we have bitten the night weaning bullet around here over the last couple of weeks. A quick background: Abi has slept through the night once since she was born and usually wakes up every couple of hours or so. She has/will occasionally do a four, five or even six hour stretch when she first goes to sleep, but after that first wake up (anywhere between 11pm and 3am) she will be awake every two hours.

After the tearing out of hair and trying multitudes of different strategies over her first 18 months I just admitted defeat and tried not to think about it too much. Nothing we did or didn't do made any difference and I have always been adamant that I will never leave her to cry or put her in a cot. So the traditional methods don't work for our family and I knew there was no point going to a sleep school. We co-sleep as part of our parenting philosophy and it is not something I am willing to compromise.

That's not to say I haven't often fallen into despair during the early hours of the morning, especially during those times, now mercifully behind us, when she would wake up and stay awake for anything up to an hour and a half. The only thing that comforted me during those times was the thought that "Thank God I don't have a newborn as well"...hang on, guess I won't be able to use that one for much longer.

So to night weaning. It's time, she's nearly two and a half, I'm still available for cuddles, songs etc, I know she's not insecure, we're just turning off the boob tap between midnight and six. I got this idea from a gentle parenting site written by an American paediatrician who points out that it is those six hours which are the most important for adults.

It hasn't gone too badly really. We started two weeks ago and have certainly had some bad times where she would wail "Mi, mummy more mi" over and over again, interspersed with screams of rage and flingings of bodies on beds. For a while I sported a nice shiner on my left eye from a back-of-head-meets-cheekbone contact during one of these sessions. At some point though each night she would subside into pathetic sobs and say "Abi tu'ool [cuddle] mummy" and I would know we were through the worst of it.

This is still going on to some extent and we have had a bout of gastro in the middle that hasn't helped, but generally I am standing firm and getting more solid blocks of sleep than I have had since she was born. I am cautiously confident that we will at least be down to one wake up per night by the time baby number two arrives, and hopeful we might be down to none, or at least no feeds.

I wanted to post a belly shot, but our camera has mysteriously disappeared. I will do so as soon as it turns up.

First trimester - Zap!

Well nearly, anyway. On Friday I'll be 13 weeks which is officially the end of the first trimester, but I think I'll count it now anyway. We've started telling people now but I have to tell my grandparents before the news goes up on Facebook so I'll call them tomorrow. One of my grandmothers is a bit deaf, so I'm anticipating a bit of "Hey Gran, I'm pregnant...no pregnant...no, no-one's indignant..." and so on. I know they'll all be excited, especially my Dad's parents who only have Abi so far in their Great Grandchild quiver.

I'm hoping we can go up to visit them in the September holidays as they don't really fly anymore and I don't know how many more chances I'll have, seeing as they are both in their 80s although very fit and healthy. I want to ask my grandmother more about her father, who I remember quite well - Dad was telling me that he enlisted in WWII at the age of 39 as he couldn't just stand by and watch all the young men from his work go off to fight. I knew he fought in the war, but none of the details and I don't want all this history to be lost. I shall appoint myself as the Family Archivist - a fitting position for the eldest child of the eldest child.

Just a quick one today as my girl is getting out of the bath and requires my presence. Or at least the presence of my boobs.

Just a nice Friday

Today I decided we would have a low-key day, as I have been feeling lately that I do way too much rushing of my girl. Even just to do fun stuff like meeting friends at the park still means I'm chivvying her into her shoes and organising snacks etc. So today we had no plans and I could let her meander along however she wanted.

So we got up at a civilised 7.45, had a nice relaxed breakfast and then pottered around doing laundry chores (me) and playing with various toys (her). We also put some bread on to bake in our fabulous new breadmaker which Abi always enjoys.

She started saying she wanted to "Ee my Vreya" (trans: see my friend Freya) so I texted her mum but sadly they were on the train to the city. Abi was philosophical and accepted a walk to find treasures culminating in a babycino and muffin with Mummy instead. We had a lovely walk and I was reminded how lucky I was to have this amazing child trotting along next to me commenting on everything, making agreeing noises when I talked and finding all kinds of interesting things to put into her special purple bag. She is such a joy, I am totally entranced by her.

Our favourite raspberry and white chocolate muffin was on offer at our local cafe, so we tucked in to one to share, although I almost wished I'd bought two as I had to move fast to get any of the delicious chocolate and raspberry bits. Then home for a delicious cuddly nap and up for a quick lunch before heading outside to play chase chase chase with bath baby. She recently got a new bath baby as the old one could no longer go in the bath, and she was very torn as to which baby would do the chasing. She tried various configurations; her holding old bath baby and running while I chased her with the new one; swapping babies; me holding both and making them run along the deck (oh my back...), but none really satisfied her. So I chased her for a while and then we went to check out the stones under the washing line.

Abi soon got involved in a game she invented herself where she scooped up the stones on a spade, carefully climbed the steps and walked across the deck to the bird bath before tipping the stones into the water. Then she would run back, carefully climb down the stairs and collect some more stones. This kept her busy for about 15 minutes and I was able to hang out the washing without needing to be involved at all. It reminded me of a story my mum tells about me at around the same age - we were down at Phillip Island and I spent 20 minutes scooping up sand in my spade and walking down to the water to drop it in. Mum said it was fantastic, she could sit and read her book, while glancing up to see me happy and occupied.

At one stage Abi fell on the stairs and said "Abi fall down, my rocks fall down" in a very sad voice. We had a cuddle and I was thinking how far her language has progressed over the last month or so. She uses 'my' all the time now so often her sentences are gramatically totally correct, like when she says "Where my drink of water?" Okay, she misses the is, but still a great sentence. I love chatting to her and I can understand everything she says now, which wasn't the case a couple of months ago.

Pregnancy is still going well. No real morning sickness, same as with Abi, but I do get hungrier and I can see a bit of a bump now too when I turn sideways. When I lie on my back I can feel the fundus too, that started at about 9 weeks. I don't have another appointment until July and as I'm only planning on one ultrasound, we've got a way to go before we see this little one. I don't really have any sense about whether it's a boy or girl; with Abi I thought she was a girl from the very beginning although I started to second guess myself towards the end. I don't think I can tap into the intuition properly this time because I'd really love a little boy especially as I'm pretty sure two is it for us. So I think that will influence any feelings I may have.

It's not a strong preference at all as I'd also love Abi to have a sister, so boy or girl is fine. I just want everything to be okay.

I feel right about stopping at two children. I'm so happy to be pregnant, but I don't really want to do it again, especially all the thinking about timing etc. I always thought I wanted three children, but I realised that what I really wanted was three grown-up children. As I would never want less than a three year gap having three would just mean the baby part would drag on for so long, really longer than I want to deal with. I'd like to go back to full-time Montessori teaching one day as well as do some further study and God knows I'm not getting any younger (37 in July).

So two is good. Two is perfect. Two for joy.

I know, I know...

...I'm hopeless. I know. I'm sure no-one comes here to this Site of Slackness anymore but just in case there are a couple of loyal souls left who do I thought I'd drop in with a bit of news.

Oooh, I feel all coy now. I don't quite know how to start...hmm, no real way to ease in to this:

I'm pregnant. Yep, 10 weeks, as a matter of fact. So all going well, our second baby will be born sometime in December and forever after whine about having a birthday so close to Christmas so that no-one ever comes to his/her parties etc etc.

Unlike my last monster conception journey, this one slipped in almost without my noticing it. DH and I did do our three month preparation which mostly involved no caffeine for me and no bacon for him and then the very first actual sex month we hit the baby jackpot. Weird.

DH laughed and laughed when I told him, which I did in a very creative way. It was Easter Sunday so I made up a bag with his Easter presents of six enormous pieces of fudge and ginger chocolates. To these treats I added two cans of Kilkenny beer and a packet of bacon. I also slipped in my positive pregnancy test.

I thought he'd twig as soon as he saw the beer, but I had to dig around in the bag and fish out the test before he got with the programme. And then, as I said, he laughed and laughed, hugged me and laughed a bit more. It did seem a bit ridiculous after all the carry-on last time.

So far all seems to be going well, although I am still feeling very cautious after the sad, sad experience of my lovely friend Mama Cass. I have lots more to say but have a two year old demanding a tea party, so must go.