An Age Old Question

Do you have a 'scary' age? An age far enough in the distance that it seems un-obtainable yet common enough you know you'll reach it before Goldie Hawn. An age when you believe you should know what life is all about but you'd prefer to let others reach it and just tell you about it?

As a little girl (let's say 10 years of age) 25 was my Wow-You-Are-Now-An-Adult age. I distinctly remember daydreaming that at 25 I would be married with a major career - in what I had no idea but it would take me around the world - and would've popped out at least two kids. At 10, 25 seemed to me the ideal age. I would be old enough to be taken seriously, would've moved out of home and could go out whenever I wanted. How fabulous! Besides, if you were 25 you weren't too old to be, well...old.

25 was cool but as I reached the magic number, the thought of marriage and children left me cold. Marriage was for someone who was, you know, 30!

Now back in the day, 30 was the OMG-Now-You-Really-Are-An-Adult age. It was the year I assumed life got on track. As my Mum and Dad were in their 30s when they had me, their third and youngest child, I always believed I'd be in a similar position when the big 3-0 hit. Ha ha ha!

As someone who turned *insert drum roll here* 32 over the weekend, I'm still waiting for this magical track to appear and the Adult Wand to wave over me and declare that I am now a responsbile person with her s#^t together.

"Um...hello? I'm over here." Nope, the Master Wand Waver obviously can't find me among all the other 30 somethings holding on to their youth with gritted teeth, because despite the increasing figures hanging over my head, I am yet to see any evidence that I am gaining in maturity to warrant the increase in age.

Yes, I have a child but he's half the reason for my hesitation. Most days I'm rolling around on the floor with him, eating food off the floor after him and cleaning dirt, vegemite or poo off my clothes because of him. How can I be a big kid when I'm behaving like a little kid?

So this year I made an executive decision. Instead of getting older I would simply celebrate the second anniversary of my 30th birthday. It has a certain je ne sais quoi, don't you think? No? Ok then, I'll just blame my age increase on the Carbon Tax. That'll work.

Parisian Dreamin'

 

The air in Brisbane today is fresh, cool and slightly damp. The rain has been falling on and off for a day and a half with several days of intermittent weather remaining. 

It is on mornings such as this, when I'm obliged to stay indoors and drink copious amounts of Earl Grey Tea, my mind becomes preoccupied with memories of living in Paris. 

The romantic streetscapes, the red wine, the cheese, the coffee, the constant sound of sirens, the walks by the River Seine and along the Champs-Elysees, the mind-blowing history on every corner, the delectable mouth-watering fresh bread topped with bolders of brie....Oh, did I mention the red wine? Paradis! 

 

My trip down memory lane is bathed in divine sunshine because, if I am honest, living there was very difficult. I don't speak the language - despite signing up for an adult education class in French six months before I left - I was alone and only had a mobile that only worked occassionally and limited funds for day-to-day expenses (you know...the essentials: red wine, coffee, cheese and bread). But somehow I made it work, I found my way and I returned to tell the tale.

This is a little life lesson I remind myself of today as I get stuck in the revolving door of house cleaning, washing clothes, cooking E's food and generally playing Mum.

Take a look around. This is life. There are aspects that are foriegn to you, that are intimidating, scaring and down-right boring but you will find a way. Just put one foot in front of the other, one day at a time and I promise you will look back on these moments as ones bathed in divine sunshine because you made it your own.

Flowers for my Mum

My beautiful Mother is recuperating from surgery on her foot and has been ordered to stay off it for six weeks in order to heal. I know this will be very difficult for her because my Mum is the one person who does everything for everyone without question or fuss. She doesn't sit still for a minute (unless she is watching her favourite TV show The Good Wife) at home or at work, so I have a feeling she might be going a little stir crazy at the moment... or catching up on some chick flicks which no doubt is driving Dad stir crazy.

Unfortunately I'm not able to be there to help Dad play Nurse so I'm sending Mum these gorgeous flowers and a big virtual hug to say, 'Love ya Mum. Get better soon.'

(Picture from Cup of Jo)

Back to work

The time has come to pack away the bath robe and slippers, unpack the corporate suits and polish up my fancy shoes because this Mumma his heading back to the workforce. Eeeek!

I finished up at my previous job a little more than one year ago. I remember cleaning out my desk and handing over a pile of business cards to my replacement and thinking, 'Thank god I don't have to use these again.' The only cards I collect now are ones from close friends and family celebrating E's arrival and business cards from Day Cares where E is on the waiting list.

Since starting a "life of luxury" I haven't needed to worry about having enough change for the bus in the morning, or that my jackets were dry cleaned before a big meeting or what incorrect story The Courier Mail was going to write about my client.

Nope, the most I worried about in the past 13 months was made up of more important issues like is E feeding enough during the day so he'll sleep at night? Am I about to run out of nappies and what sunscreen should I buy a baby so I don't fill his precious skin with chemicals? Does he have enough to keep him interested during the day? What should I make us for lunch? Etc... etc... The pressure may not be as high, but it's pressure nonetheless. Now I have to find a way to answer both. Correctly. First time. Every time. Obviously.

As this week rolls on and the first day of my new job gets closer my excitement for getting back into my career is slowly turning into panic. Not only will I start a new job in a new corporate environment, but all my work clothes resemble a tent an elephant would wear - a very faded and ugly tent thanks to the behemoth I was during pregnancy (not that there's anything wrong with that), AND I have to get E organised and ready to start Day Care in as many days. Two whammies on one day. I don't do things by halves do I?

Do I give in to these feelings of anxiousness and fear of getting back on the corporate treadmill after the longest break in my career to date, or do I focus on getting my darling boy through his first day (and week) away from home without Mum? 

I keep thinking, he'll be all alone in the big bad world with only his cute chubby smile to defend him? Yes, I'm completely overreacting, of course he's got cute chubby arms and legs that pack a mighty punch too, but you know what I mean.

The longest I've left E since he was born is 5 hours. Even then I was a prisoner of my own sweat-drenched panic because I was convinced he was having a melt down without me there to provide comfort (i.e. boobs) and I would regret going shopping with my girlfriends instantly.

Of course I got home, E was sound asleep and Teach didn't even realise five hours had passed. My emotional state was completely over the top and a result of me not learning to let go and have someone else - his very capable Daddy no less - look after him.

If that's what I was like six months ago, I'd hate to think what I'll be like after E's first eight hours in Day Care with a random stranger! Most probably hiding in the corner of the house, rocking back and forth in the arm chair with my arms wrapped firmly around E staring off in to the distance chantting, 'there's no place like home, there's no place like home.' 

Actually, that's reminded me, I need to get to the bottleo and stock up on a few good bottles of Red. This Mumma's gonna need it!

Life Lessons

I've said it before and I'll say it again; I believe that I've learnt more about life watching E grow than I ever would have without him. During our trip to NZ he taught me another valuable life lesson. It's pure, simple, uncomplicated and true:

Never stop learning and experimenting

As E continues to develop and discover the world around him, I too am rediscovering my world. What have I learnt so far? Don't be afraid to wrip open the vegemite packet and smear it all over the place, if that's what you want to do. Just eat it and enjoy it! Who cares about the mess, the inevitable scrubbing of the clothes to remove stains and the looks you get from people? When you follow your heart happiness generally follows and the world is a better place. 

I've printed out the above photos of E devouring his vegemite and pinned them to the board above my desk to remind me everyday to collect experiences, not posessions. After all, that is what I'll remember about my life and be thankful for at the end of the day, isn't it?

An Open Letter to 2011

Dearest 2011,

Please let me take this opportunity to express my heart-felt thanks and gratitude for coming into my life. I had a feeling we would meet one day - perhaps we met sooner than anticipated - but in the end I'm so glad we had our time together.

Well, Hark the Herald Angels! What a Week...

This week has been one of many firsts for our little family. From shopping for E's first Christmas Tree, to swims at South Bank and playing in the sprinkler, to crawling from one end of the house to the other (yes, all of us at some stage), this week has been one of great significance in our young family's life.

It started off like many others - very early and filled with endless cups of coffee from the cafe recently opened in our neighbourhood.

We decided to use this time before Christmas to do all the chores I didn't manage to get done while Teach was at work (read: forgot because lazybones here watched to many re-runs of Grey's Anatomy).

First stop: Christmas Tree! I really wanted to get into the spirit of our family Christmas, which to me means, a fabulous tree (if budget allows for it) and decorations to deck the halls.

Teach always had a real tree growing up and wanted to continue the same tradition for E, so we made our way to Hawkins to select one of their finest. Ok, maybe it wasn't their finest (how do you say 'Ka-Ching' in Tree?) but it's fine enough for our place. 

It's not the size but what you do with it that matters.

The decorations are sadly lacking, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it?

You might have noticed summer really stepped up to the plate after several days of faux winter weather this week. To celebrate (and escape our hot box) we packed the beach bag and took E to South Bank for a splash in Streets Beach. It's one of my favourite spots in Brisbane because it's close to the city, shops, cafes, galleries and other attractions, but most importantly, it's free.

E had a ball! It was one big bath tub to him. Splashing, kicking and playing. He would've stayed there for hours if the rain clouds didn't loom large and threaten to destroy our lovely afternoon.

Loving the water at Streets Beach

Inspired by his obvious love of the water, we decided to set up a sprinkler in the back garden and play under the hose like we did as kids. E was a bit shocked at this cold wet stuff splashing him in the face at first, but loved it eventually. The blow-up ball Teach was given as a Secret Santa gift came in very handy for our "pool party."

A boy always needs a ball.

Then yesterday, our little man, who has been trying to crawl for several weeks finally took off on all fours. Slowly but surely, he let one knee follow the other and crawled from Teach to me along the hallway (maybe 2m long) without looking back. It was the proudest moment of our lives!

Not wanting to finish there, a few hours later with a belly full of Mum's brilliant super-charged Boob Juice, he attempted the stairs. With Teach behind him, he went from one step to the next and climbed all the way to the top. We cheered and cheered. Once at the top, his little eyes smiled at me as if to say, 'Ta Dah! Look at me Mum,'. We couldn't stop laughing and applauding his little adventure. That reminds me, I really must buy child-proof gates for the stairs.


It's moments like these when you realise that for all the late nights, crying tantrums and pooy bums (mine and E's), you wouldn't change being a parent for anything in the world.


Merry Christmas to all.
x Sian

All Aboard the Workforce Express!

I've been on maternity leave since December last year, even though E wasn't due until February. I decided to take off early in order to wind down from work, have Christmas at home with family and enjoy the last few weeks of my pregnancy at home nesting. 

While the year is almost up. It feels like it has gone by in the blink of an eye.

When E first arrived I would sit with him and think, 'Imagine the day when you'll sit up by yourself.'

Then I would say to Teach, 'Just wait until he's crawling around, we won't know what hit us.'

Now, I'm thinking (and somewhat pleading to the heavens), 'Where's my baby gone? He's such a little man now,' and he's only 8 months old.

Being able to stay at home and care for E in his first year has been incredible, for him and me. We've definitley had our moments of desperation, exhaustion and frustration (especially on my behalf) but I wouldn't change our time together for anything. I'm very grateful that Teach and I have been able to afford the luxury of me not working...until now.

Yep, the time has come for me to haul my tired arse back to the work force, but it goes with a degree of anxiety and confusion because it's taken me a good part of the year to forget Career Girl Sian and comfortably settle into Mumma mode. How do I mix-it-up and do both? 

Yesterday, I joined the other Yummy Mummys at our weekly Mothers Group catch up. A majority of us are passengers on the Workforce Express boat so the conversation consisted of many personal questions such as: Would you recommend Child Care or Family Day Care? Should I look for vacancies in a centre near home or work? What sort of standards are we searching for? What is a good benchmark to compare child care centres? What is the average cost for one child per week? Does anyone know of a centre that is happy for you to use cloth nappies?

The one burning question I had, that I didn't voice was, how the hell will I cope not looking after E each day?


It was incomprehensible to me one year ago that I could survive as a Stay-at-Home Mum. I thought I would  'lose myself' in Motherly duties and go a bit batty (more so than usual that is). But it seems the opposite is true.

I love being the main carer for E during the day. We play adorable little games that no-one else knows. We sing songs together that no-one else knows (Ok, I sing and he just nods along). We go to the park, to weekly Baby Sensory classes, Mother's Group and on shopping expeditions.

I know his little idiosyncrasies and he knows mine - maybe better than Teach? Yes, we have our moments like many others do, but I sincerely cherish this time we've had together and I know I will miss it - I completely understand now what people mean when they say 'This time goes so fast'. Fast? It's bloody lightning speed and I'm holding on for dear life!!

Needless to say, SJP's new movie I Don't Know How She Does It is very timely. I might need to organise a Mother's Group catch up at a Babes in Arms session to watch, listen and learn what to do and what not to do.    

If you have any tips on how to cope with this transition, I'd love to hear it.

Sleep Training: One Tired Parent's Diary - Part Two

Well it seems our endeavour to teach E how to self-settle during the night has ended before it really began...

I'm not sure if it was my initial resistance (covered by cocky confidence), levels of anxiety or desire to sleep and 'deal with it later' that overcame me, but I woke up today vowing to find another solution. Anything must be better than hearing my darling boy cry. In short, I gave up.

Sleep Training: One Tired Parent's Diary

After more than four months of E's constant night waking - ranging from every 4 hours to every hour - Teach and I have decided to try and teach E to self-settle during the night.

Self-settling is also referred to as Controlled Crying (CC), Crying it Out (CIO), Sleep Training (ST) and Controlled Comforting (again CC). No matter what you want to call it, it's a controversial subject. Many wise women before me *cough* have prepared papers on the pros and cons of CC, some declaring it causes psychological harm on the child and instils a sense of abandonment. Others say allowing a baby to cry and fall asleep on their own (without being fed, rocked, nursed etc...) will not harm them in and infact could teach children resilience.

Havagdwkend

A cute conversation I had with my three year-old niece about her dog named Chai...

Me: What type of dog do you have?

Her: Chai.

Me: Yeah, Chai is his name, but can you tell me what type of dog he is?

Her: A little one.

Me: He is little, isn't he? Do you know if he is a terrior, a maltease or maybe a poodle?

Her: Chai. Chai!! [Now looking at me as if to say, 'Get it?!'] He's my puppy. He's little.

Me: He sure is.

How can I possibly argue with that logic? Have a great weekend y'all.

x Sian

A giggle for your Wednesday...

 

I have to thank my Dad for sending me this fabulous cartoon. Sums up our life nicely I think.

Best,
Sian x

Two Lives

I am a walking contradiction. I came to the realisation on Saturday afternoon as Teach and I sat in front of the television, chowed down on McDonalds and played with E. I heard myself say, 'Now E this is rubbish food, you don't want any of this.' His little eyes watched us closely as we demolished lunch in desperation, not hunger, but desperation to get rid of the evidence that we proactively bought and consumed fast food. It tasted so good, I was disgusted with myself!

A Baby's Point Of View

Mamamia is a fantastic website featuring stories/columns on everything from relationships, careers, gossip, news, travel, food, parenting and general wellbeing. I love receiving the Daily Update in my Inbox - sometimes more than once - and reading what Mia Freedman and her contributors have to say. 

Today, I found this fantastic story by Richard Glover highlighting several rebuttals to the very popular book Go the _____ to sleep! Richard sheds light on why some tiny tots across Oz can't sleep.

Ooh La La...

I am an avid reader of Gwyneth Paltrow's newsletter GOOP. I love getting an inside look at her delectable life and daydreaming...what if?!

This week's issue is themed GET and has GP dressed in various outfits she likes for the UK Summer. Each one is broken down so you can easily purchase the whole look or individual pieces via Net-a-Porter.

Wow, looking this celeb-tastic has never been so easy!!

If I had GP's budget (perhaps that should be no-budget and a black Amex) these are the items I'd love to buy for Winter. Ooh La La....

Happiness is a journey

I've been reading a few different books lately and have come across several inspirational sayings. This one struck a cord with me so I thought I'd share it with you.

Happiness is a journey, not a destination

Creative Spaces

So I'm thinking if I start taking this blogging world seriously, I need a serious work space...any excuse to get me to Ikea really!! Here are a few random pics of home offices I've found online. What do you think?

A red rag to a bull

I have a confession to make. I am a lead foot, or that should be, I was one. I was the kind of driver who would curse others for obeying the speed limit despite an open road in front of them. I couldn’t understand their patience and resolve to mosey along with absolutely no regard for the insane woman behind them... I would scream (in the safety of my own car of course), “Come on people, move!”