Six months

My boy, all 7.18kg of squishiness, is six months old. He's well and truly come alive.

From a frail, tiny being in a humidicrib to a squishy ball all legs a-kicking.

He's a little pork dumpling of joy. In fact, Goosey is often worried that if we take him to the dumpling restaurant he will be mistaken for one.

He giggles and smiles with delight at most things. Will drop his lip at strangers. His eyes light up when he sees his Dad and his sisters. His legs kick furiously with excitement, busting to get out there and on with life.

He's laid-back and calm, but has a cheeky glint is his eye.

He had his jabs yesterday and looked like Bruce Banner just before he turns into the Incredible Hulk.

He's having his first taste of solids today.

I can't imagine life without him. And despite his night time shenanigans he's pure, 100% joy.

D with his tired and old-looking mama. 

The little things

Lately, I've been going through this weird, stupid, ridiculous time. I kinda feel like the world, the government, the universe or someone is against me. There have been mistakes, mix-ups, accidents, bad luck.

It feels like one battle after another some days.

Just when I'm wringing my hands and shouting: "Are you serious?!" one little thing happens that keeps me going, that stops me from throwing in the towel. It's often simple, inconsequential to the person giving it but means the world to me.

A supportive comment on this blog, a kind act from a stranger, a text from Skip, a funny conversation with the girls, a giggle from D.

It's amazing how much positive fuel we can make for ourselves from one tiny action.

It's a great lesson to learn, but can I have a few smooth weeks now? Please?

Just another boring sleep post

It's now four weeks since the boy's sleeping went awry and I'm worn out. Boringly, frustratingly worn out.
He slept so wonderfully, I thought I'd finally got my 'good' sleeper after years of dealing with non-sleeping children. Not so, it seems.

Everyone keeps telling me I should be happy that he slept well for a time. It some ways though, it's more frustrating as I know he can do it, so why isn't he doing it now?

I'd be fine if it was once or even twice a night, but it's usually 3 or 4 or more times a night. Last night he was up 4 times, 3 of those times for longer than an hour each. This doesn't include the times that Goosey got up.

I'm tired. Skip's tired. My back and legs ache from settling and holding and rocking. It's so ridiculously boring.

My head is fuzzy and I'm not with it at all.

So let's forget about all that boring stuff and concentrate on the good. Like Mad Men and the fact that it's coming back, very soon!

It looks like everybody kicked a goal

The Castle

Life is a bit of a blur at the moment. I'm struggling with the dropping kids at school and preschool and then picking them up again. In theory it sounds like an easy, quick and simple thing to do, but by 10am I've got kids in and out of car seats six times, then 2.30pm rolls around and we do it all again. I feel like D and I live in the car carting the girls around to and fro. It's all a lot busier than I thought it would be. On top of that there's swimming lessons, preschool meetings, school social events, kids parties, etc, etc. Being sleep deprived and a bit frazzed, I don't have the time I thought I would with the kids out of the house. Poor D is the baby on the run who just has to nap and eat wherever and whenever.

In the rush of the mundane it's also easy to forget that these are little people doing amazing things for the first time. Instead you think of them as packages that need to be distributed.

Yesterday, I tried to take some time with each of them, just a couple of minutes to take note of what they've grown into.

Lil-lil is so grown-up. She reckons she's so good at reading that she can do it with her eyes closed. She's got a complicated social life with friends and bestest best friends that change on a daily basis. She's hanging out to win Student of the Week at assembly. She's learning big lessons, like looking after her school hat (already lost) and her lunch box and that the playground is a big, rough place.

With Goosey she punches so far above her three years that it's easy to forget she's learning so much and growing too. How to bond and find her own place in the world and with her friends. She's finding a place where she's not Lil's crazy little sister. That "birds keep eggs under their bums or else the eggs will shiver". She can now draw the happiest little people and love hearts. She only plays with the boys.

D is a far cry from the scrawny little boy pulled out too early. His thighs are impressively chubby. He's reaching for things and grabbing, trying to move and desperate to roll around. He can even pull his sister's hair, the first step in his revenge plan, no doubt.

The best part of being a parent is watching them kick their goals, no matter how small they are. I just need to remind myself to look occasionally and not get lost in the day-to-day.

I've got your back

For the longest time, I thought to survive and be a 'grown up' you had to be tough. Present to the world that you had it together. Fake it to you make it. Never show fear, never show uncertainty. Don't rely on anyone. Be better than the Joneses.

I've learnt that is a load of crap and a pretty sad way to live your life. In part, blogging and being 'out there' has shown me that it's far better to be honest, vulnerable and occasionally lean on others. Be sad when you're sad, be happy when you're happy. Crushing down the facade makes for a richer life.

I've learnt there's a different between being whingy and being honest. Between being needy and needing people. That we're all a little crazy some times. That most of the time I haven't got a clue.

I'm really lucky that I have a group of friends who I trust, who are supportive and are there no matter what. It took me a long time to find people like that. Some are in the same boat and can empathise when I feel like the mundane nature of motherhood is going to send me mad. Others have completely different lives but we relate as people, love hearing about each others worlds and support each other.

I find it hard to be around people these days who feel they need to promote an image of perfection. No life is perfect and it's perfectly OK to admit that some days. I'm so far from perfect. I make so many mistakes each and every day. 

It's so important to have people you can say to: "I'm struggling," when they ask how you are, rather than a tight lipped "Oh I'm fine." Who will listen without judgement, make you a strong cup of coffee and then make you laugh. They are also the same people who cheer on your achievements too. Who breathe a sigh of relief when a tough time has past.

I recently had an email from a friend who said: "I know you probably feel like you're failing some days, but from where I'm standing you're doing an amazing job." It's that kind of thing that means the world to me.

We all need people who've got our back, but we've got to allow them to by being vulnerable. I've recently realised just how many people really do have my back, and for that I'm grateful.

I just hope they know that I have theirs too.

Oh where for art you, blog?

Last year I used to have this lovely little window in the morning, where the kids were happily munching their toast and I could bash out a blog post. This year that window has disappeared. Making TWO lunches, a crying baby and ironing uniform seems to have sucked that precious little moment right up. 

As the day progresses, I'm struggling to find a moment to write and now I've got soggy, squashed mixed-up blog posts coming out my ears, instead of my fingers like they should. It's not good. I miss writing here. 

Instead I'm thickly spreading butter with a scrape of vegemite on Vita-Wheats for one, thinly slicing cheese and spreading avocado on bread for another. Which, let's face it makes for boring blogs, so I'm going to take my sleep deprived self and have a nap instead, who knows when the chance will present itself again.

The amazing sleeping boy has morphed into the non-sleeping boy and this phase is getting longer and longer. So I'm grabbing a moment of peace and quiet and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Si, parlo l'Italiano!

Lil-lil is at that exciting time in life, where the whole world is truly hers for the picking. Every option is available to her. Now she's at school, she's doing wonderful things like art, gymnastics, Italian, music. She's loving it and, best of all, the potential is there for her to enjoy and be good at any of them.

For me, it just reminds me of everything I didn't do so well at.

One afternoon last week, Lil excitedly told me how she was learning Italian and how brilliant it was going to be because her dad and I wouldn't be able to understand what she was saying. I then told her I could speak Italian and that I spent 10 years learning the language. It's true, I did. I even did it for my HSC (final high school exams).

Doing Italian for my HSC was one of the more silly things I've done in my life. For some reason I was convinced that learning a language would be brilliant and speaking Italian would really enrich my life.
In reality I never really enjoyed the classes and spent most of the time day-dreaming. Which resulted in the time when I embarrassingly replied I was going to "Al Pacino" rather "alla piscina" (the swimming pool).

My high school Italian teacher convinced me and four other girls that doing Italian for the HSC would be the greatest thing we ever did. I think she may have watched Stand and Deliver and thought she was going to turn us into Italian speaking freaks.

The moment it hit me that doing Italian as part of my final year of school wasn't going to be my moment of glory was when we turned up to the oral/aural exam. It was held in a high school quite a distance away, we walked into the hall and it suddenly hit us five naive little white anglo girls from the lower north shore of Sydney, that we were the only ones who didn't have an Italian background. We were competing against people who'd been immersed in the culture and language their whole lives. Our total exposure outside of class was reading the pasta menu at Pizza Hut.

It also didn't help that I never studied and the only homework I did was copied from the one girl in the class who actually tried. As I copied down her answers she'd try and explain what I was copying, desperate to teach me and I'd shush her away only caring that the homework was done and I wouldn't get busted. I really had zero interest in learning the language and a pretty bad attitude about the whole thing.

So once high school was over I tried to forget the little I'd learnt. The only time it came in handy was after a car crash just outside of Rome, other than that I've never uttered a word. I'm sure the girl who answered every Monday that on the weekend she went to 'alla montagna blu" has never had to use that sentence again. Every now and then Skip asks me to translate the Italian SBS news for him or asks what the neighbours are saying over the fence. I always fob him off with some "It must be a Sicilian dialect" excuse. Even living in the 'little Italy' of Sydney hasn't inspired me to tussle with the language again.

Now, Lil-lil is learning, she keeps asking me how to say things and little-by-little everything I spent the past 18 years trying to suppress is coming back slowly. Maybe I'll enjoy it a little more this time round.

What subject in school was a complete waste of time for you?

Everything you never wanted to know

Sam from Good Mum Hunting tagged me to answer these questions. I haven't done something like this for ages, so thought it would be fun.


Here goes:


Describe yourself in 7 words:
Laidback, calm, indecisive, cluey, lazy, thoughtful, odd.

What keeps you up at night?

Children. No explanation necessary.

Who would you like to be?
I would like to be a person with lots of opportunities, lots of success, lots of sleep, lots of joyful moments, lots of happy family time. 

What are you wearing right now?

A purple T-Bar t-shirt, black mini, sandals.

What scares you?

Super bugs, squirrels (shut up, they're scary rabies-filled creatures OK?), sick kids, making the wrong decision, my family being unhappy. 

What are the best and worst things about blogging? 
Best things are the people I've met (and re-met), having an outlet that is just for me.

Worst things is ummm I don't know, no bad things. 

What was the latest website you visited?
Sydney Morning Herald.

What is the one thing you would like to change about yourself?

Shamefully there is lots I'd like to change. I think the number one thing would be to be more assertive. 

Slanket?

I have one, somewhere. Does that make me a bad person?

Tell us something about the person who tagged you:
She's kind, loves music and is going on a trip to the Coachella Festival and I'm very jealous.


If you haven't been tagged, consider yourself tagged and share some more about yourself.

She's a gold digger

I love Sydney. I was born here, have spent most of my life here. She's a pretty city, no denying. She sparkles like no other city I've been to. But man, I'm starting to suspect she's a gold digger. The only thing she wants from our relationship is my money.

When I sat down to the news sites yesterday, it seems I'm right. The seventh most expensive city in the world? Yep, you got it. Sydney.

It's true, everyone you speak to is moaning about the cost of living - house prices, rent, utilities. Everything costs money and lots of it.

So, what do you do? Move somewhere else? Sure, I'd happily live in another city - Melbourne, Perth, wherever (unfortunately due to Skip's work it would have to be a city). Oh but wait, the cost of living in Melbourne, Perth, Brisbane and Adelaide is more than in London, Rome, New York, Berlin, Hong Kong and Beijing. Right.

Oh well. At least we have the gorgeous sunny Sydney weather to make it all worthwhile. Oh wait...

That's it Sydney. You've been put on notice. Pick up your game or it's London, New York, Hong Kong here I come.

Image: Tim R

A decade without

Ten years ago today, my grandmother passed away. I can't believe it's been 10 years, a whole decade.
She was a little old lady with a grey bun, who baked and played scrabble. From a distance she was the stereotypical Grandma, but if you came a little bit closer she was wicked.

Sure she played Scrabble, but she often would put down swear words that would make a truck driver proud. At her 80th birthday she told me one of the crudest jokes I've ever heard. Then there was the time when someone commented on how she and I looked alike, she paused, looked at me and said: "Goodness I'm not that ugly, am I?" All with her tongue planted firmly in her cheek and her hand over mine.

I miss her dearly and when I smell ANZAC biscuits baking or a whiff of Pears soap I miss her more. When I glimpse sweet peas or irises or hear the tock of a grandfather clock I think of her.

One of the last times I saw her, she asked if I believed in ghosts. I said that I wasn't sure. She said to me: "If there is I'll make sure I come back and haunt you."

She now has seven great grandchildren in my kids and their cousins that she never met and that feels odd. Just when I feel sad about that I look at my little girl with the curls looking at me saying: "Poo-poo bum, mum" and I know she's not really that far away at all.

Snotastic Sunday

I've been looking forward to this weekend. A break from the hectic first week of school. A time to relax, catch up with friends and have fun.

It all started well until about 10pm Saturday when the babe woke up. He was burning up, sneezing and snotty. Halfway through the night, when I was up with the boy yet again, my throat began to hurt. By morning I was feeling crapola.

Skip was the same. As was Lil-Lil. Sunday has been the looooongest day. Wiping noses, counting the long hours until I can collapse into bed. Nothing worse than when you're feeling sick and you have to look after sick little people.

I'm on the home stretch. Please, kids, please sleep well. Mama needs to rest.

Funeral song

I don't often blog twice in one day, but Eden's Fresh Horses meme has got me again. This week she's asked what your funeral song would be. I've always loved this question.

The most obvious answer for me is a Beatles song, as they've been the soundtrack to my life.
I've always thought I'd choose Let it Be.



Though there's part of me that wants to go on another tangent and have this song:



What about you? Join in with Eden here

Pssst: don't forget to come LIKE my Facebook page:

Housekeeping fail

The girls' favourite game is pile everything on their bed. It's just so..... fun...

I'm the world's most hopeless housekeeper. Domestic goddess I'm not. I like cleanliness and order, but I rarely achieve it at the moment.

I blame the kids, I blame the house. I blame having five people squashed into a two-bedroom semi. Really, though, I should be blaming me a little bit more even if I do believe, if it was just me living here it would be a gorgeous, organised haven.

Truly, though, I could clean and tidy all day, every day and still not be there. The little mess machines in my house are so good that they keep me busy. This week, with the two big ones out of the house I had grand plans of organising, tidying, sorting. Things looked great, until they came home in a whirlwind and there was crap everywhere again.

I dream of having an organised, de-cluttered, pristine home. I dream of having a 'toy' room. It looks like they have an obscene amount of toys, but really it's just an average amount as they're squeezed in together.
I dream of having a junk room. Somewhere I can put all that "stuff", but that's never going to happen.

I'm trying to get a routine happening of getting the girls to tidy before they go to school and then again before dinner, but it's not working.

So, tell me, what are your secrets? Help me out here, as I'm feeling like a big fat failure.

Sleep scarred

I know sleep deprivation all too well. I come from a whole family of people for whom sleep is a struggle.

Lil-lil struggled with sleep from the start, I had many, many, many long nights cajoling her into sleep. In fact, it's only in the past 5 or 6 months that she's consistently slept at night, finally after five years.
Goosey has also struggled with sleep, she had sleep issues when she was a one-year-old and then had sleep apnoea and now still wakes 1-3 times a night to climb into bed with me. I often return her to bed at least once or twice a night.
Skip also has times when he struggles to get to sleep or wakes in the early hours, I don't have to pat him off to sleep, but I often wake when he's up and feel so terribly bad for him. When I know he's struggling to sleep I often don't want to move a muscle in fear of interrupting that tiny window when he may be able to get back to sleep.

If I could have one wish, it would be to give my family long, deep hours of restful sleep. Once you have sleep, you can tackle anything.

Little D has been a good sleeper. I haven't written on this blog about it as I haven't wanted to jinx it. I have been so thankful and relieved at how well he's slept. I have savoured each and every night he's slept soundly and never once taken it for granted. I've prayed that he's like his mama who finds sleep easy.

The past week something has changed. Suddenly my good sleeper is awake. Many times a night. And it breaks my heart. I took him to the doctor this morning to make sure he wasn't ill and he's fine. I'm trying not to panic, desperately hoping it's a rough patch, a phase and he will go back to his sleeping ways. Although I'm so scarred from long-term sleep deprivation that I'm terrified.

I know the pressure that sleep deprivation can put on a person. On a relationship. On a family. On friendships. On work. On absolutely everything. It sucks the joy out of life.

As a family, we've pulled through this sleep stuff together, and I'm sure we can again. But it sucks.

Spy Kids winners

The Spy Kids 4D winners are:
Anon Kate
Judith M
Donna

Please send me your details (corinne@dazeofmylife.com) and I'll post them out.

On repeat

I'm constantly repeating myself, every day I say the same things over and over. I'm thinking that I might just get a tape on loop with all the things I say every day.

Here's a taste of what I do say over and over each day:

* Shhhh it's too early

* Don't put your finger in his eye

* Don't pull his leg

* Give him some space, get off him

* Watch out for the spew

* Just because

* Go play outside

* Be nice to your sister

* Shhhh the baby is sleeping

* Don't forget to flush

* Get off her!

* Can you please eat your dinner

* Of course you like carrots

* Don't throw it on the floor

* Fruit doesn't make you spew

* Don't drink the bath water

* Go to sleep

* PLEASE go to sleep NOW


What I wish I was saying every day:

* Just a dash of milk is fine thanks

* Put the washing on after you clean up the breakfast plates

* Thanks for taking the kids to school

* Just a light seafood lunch for me, don't go to too much trouble

* I'm just going to pop out for a moment while you do craft with the kids

* Yes, I'd love a slice of cucumber in my Hendricks & tonic, thanks

* I'll eat my seared scallops after you finish bathing the kids

Do you repeat yourself too?

Thanks for all your kind words yesterday. Lil-lil left this morning smiling, so I'm hoping she comes home smiling.

Dread

Urgh what a morning. The boy was sad and slept badly all night, he cried pretty much all morning as we tried to get ready for the day. When I told Lil-lil it was time to get dressed for school, she burst into tears and said she had a terrible stomach ache and couldn't go. Then Goosey decided she didn't want to go to preschool. It was a tearful trifecta.

I'm really hoping Lil-lil's fear about going to school disappears quickly. She never shed one single tear going to preschool, so this is a new thing for us. The number one thing that I want for my kids' schooling career is that they enjoy going. That they wake up in the morning content about going to school, sure that won't be every morning, but it would be fantastic if it was most mornings. Everything else is second.

You see, I hated going to school. Every single morning of my school life (preschool, primary, high school) I woke up dreading going, my stomach tied in knots at the very thought of it. During my first year of school, I cried and threw up most mornings, there was a scene at the school gate each and every day. Eventually the tears stopped but I vomited a lot of mornings before going to school all the way through until I finished Year 12. If I'm completely honest the same dread actually continued on to university and my working life.

I don't know why I hated it so much. I had no reason to be so anxious about it. Once at school my experience was pretty positive. I wasn't unpopular, I had friends, many of whom are still my friends now. I wasn't bullied. The teachers liked me and I them, I was made a prefect in primary school. Some of my high school teachers are Facebook friends today. I did pretty well academically, especially seeing as I had zero interest and did the bare minimum of study.

Yet, hate it I did.

As I walked towards the school gate with Lil-lil this morning and saw her eyes fill with tears, all those feelings that consumed me for so many years came flooding back.

So I just want my kids to enjoy going to school and eventually find careers where they wake up in the morning excited about it. Not to waste so much time and energy dreading the day ahead as I did.

A stroke in time

I'm linking up with Eden's Fresh Horses meme today. If you haven't read Eden's blog, your missing out. In the words of Molly Meldrum, do yourself a favour and visit her blog.

I love that handwriting is timeless. When I was younger I used to love seeing my mum's handwriting scrawled in an old book or on the back of a photo. It was exactly the same as it was in the present and that amazed me, like all of life's happenings has no impact upon it.

Recently, my brother dropped in and saw a to-do list on my kitchen bench. He gasped and said "wow, that takes me back, your handwriting is still the same and you still do the same star points."

It's wonderful how handwriting can make something as mundane as a shopping list personal, creative and evoke an emotional response.

It's Monday, I must be a doctor

Being five, Lil-lil often gets asked: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Her standard answer is vet, but the other day she said to me: "Mum, I don't just want to be a vet, I want to be a lot of things. So I was thinking, on Monday I could be a vet. On Tuesday I could be a swimming teacher. On Wednesday I could have a restaurant. On Thursday I could be a mum. On Friday I could be a princess."

Well, I guess people do tend to have more than one career these days. Me, I have had just the two, working in magazines and then becoming a full-time mum. My older brothers have both had radically different careers in their working life. Skip has dabbled in different things at different times. Gone are the days of committing to job, let alone one employer, for life.

This got me thinking, what would I choose if I could do a different dream job every day of the week?
Here's my list:

Monday: I'd be a novelist. Sitting in a gorgeous room somewhere typing out perfect prose.
Tuesday: I'd be a film director. I want to be a film maker until I was about 20. I even studied film at university. Another dream that fell by the wayside.
Wednesday: This would be a good day to be a forensic scientist.
Thursday: Domestic goddess. Creating the perfect home and looking after perfect children (this is a dream list, after all).
Friday: Easy. Rock star. Cmon, who wouldn't want to be a rock star?

What are your dream jobs? Are you already doing your dream job? Share, share!

First day nerves

So the day has finally arrived. Lil-lil's first day of school. Despite a bit of anxiety on her part she did great. I've never been prouder of her. She's grown into pure delight.

Me, on the other hand, well I didn't realise just how anxious I was until we were there. I feel a little like I'm throwing my baby into the ocean and yelling 'Swim!' from the shore. A little dramatic, I know.

After we kissed her goodbye, Skip and I  (and Goose and D) walked out into the playground. Skip urged me to go the parents morning tea that was being held as he raced off to work. "It's like the first day for both of you," he said as he ran off in the rain.

Sighing, I pushed aside every feeling telling me to run and headed to the morning tea. I'm socially inept. You will meet me and think I'm a normal person, but walking into a room of people I don't know and having to initiate a conversation with them? My absolute worst nightmare. I'd rather have root canal done. Seriously, I would.

I walked into the room and stood awkwardly as the parents mingled. I watched Goosey inhale the P&C's entire 2012 biscuit budget as I surreptitiously tried to spy an opening in a conversation. Some where. Any where. I stood there feeling like I was floundering. Hating every single moment. I started to wonder why they had morning teas with crap instant coffee and biscuits to break the ice between parents. Surely wine and karaoke would do a better job. Well, for me it would. Give me wine and karaoke and I would be the life of the party. Biscuits and coffee and I'm the awkward idiot wondering how long I have to stand there before I can leave.

After hovering in the corner, I spied a mum I'd spoken to briefly at the Best Start Assessment. She had no friends either and stood looking around. I caught her eye and then we chatted and chatted. We even swapped numbers. Then another mum I know from the hood (who I didn't know was starting her girl) came up and suddenly I almost looked popular. Almost.

I left feeling brighter. This school lark just might be OK. I just hope Lil-lil finds a buddy to hang on to today too.

Facebook Me

I've decided to jump on the bandwagon and create a Facebook page for The Daze of My Life.
If you're on Facebook and want a bit extra Daze, click on the box on the left to 'Like' me.

What will happen there?? Who knows! Try it and see.

My brief career as a child spy + Spy Kids 4D giveaway

When I was a wee lass, my family moved to Trinidad. As we were coming through customs at the airport, I was carrying a Sesame Street Spy Book to help pass the time on the flight. For some reason the men at customs believed it was an actual spy book. I must have had that look of being an international spy, all at the age of three. They spent quite a bit of time working out the banana codes, while my Dad went off his brain at their stupidity. Finally, after some time, me and the book were let go.

Over the years that little tale has been told at many a family function, with chuckles of 'Who'd really think a three-year-old was a spy.' I'm guessing that Robert Rodriguez, writer and director of the Spy Kids franchise, must have listened into this story at some time or perhaps he was behind us in that customs line. Sadly, he hasn't sent me any royalties which I'm obviously owed, but what are you going to do?

When I returned home from holidays this week, I discovered a parcel with three 3D Blu-Ray copies of Spy Kids: All The Time in World from those kind Roadshow people. Not only is the movie 3D but it comes with special scratch and sniff cards that make the movie a 4D experience. Cool. I can't tell you what the movie is like as I don't have a Blu-Ray player, but I was a fan of the first couple of movies. It also features Ricky Gervais and Jeremy Piven, so bound to provide a few laughs.

If you'd like to win one of these babies, please leave me a comment below about a moment in your life that could have made a movie.


Entries close Sunday February 5, 2012, 11.59pm (AEST). Open to Aussie residents only.