both my boys are sunburnt

on saturday my mother gave my hubby a BBQ for christmas. yes, we are aware that its only october, but by the time christmas actually rolls round, BBQ season will be half over. (funny story. one time when we went to the states on holiday, my dad went to the chemist to get some asprin or something, and upon finding out he was from australia, the girl asked him 'when do they have christmas over there?' my overall impression of americans has improved a bit since then.... but not as much as id like.)


so yesterday, sunday, my husand spent the better part of the morning putting the BBQ together. with the help of our 3yr old. IT WAS SO CUTE. he just wanted to be out there helping his daddy so much... and except when he spilled EVERY SINGLE PIECE IN THE TOOLBOX, i think daddy enjoyed the help.

he insisted on wearing his hat backwards, just like daddy.

for some reason he decided to get changed into different pants before helping daddy put the legs on.

i just loved watching them working together. critter loves his daddy so much, and was so so excited to help. i just hope they continue to have a good relationship when he gets bigger.

..?

and now he's drawing on the walls. he hasn't really done it before, and it surprised (and pleased me) that i'd somehow got THE ONLY CHILD EVER not to draw on the walls.

but now he does.

at least he was suitably distraught when i shouted 'no' and made him sit down by himself. the tears lasted for whole minutes.

i want to bake.

i want to bake, i want to bake, i want to bake.

problem is, every recipe i look at, considering if this is what i want to bake, answer is no.

i want to bake, i just dont know what i want to bake. nothing seems appealing.

grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

well that was a failure.

the skirt. not so much of the working nicely.

the skirt i based the 'pattern' off of is a little stretchy, and therefor a teensy bit fitted once its on. i didnt take this into account when i was figuring out pattern pices, so my skirt draft made out of a sheet didnt fit so well.

skintight across the hips, with odd pointy bits on the rear, not a good look.

on the upside, the length is just right, and having figured out what i did wrong, i think i can figure out how to do it right the next time.


and in the meantime, i need to get the liners for the laundry hampers finished, so hubby will let me go shopping and buy fabric and interfacing to make some boxes to go in the critter's toy cabinet to keep things a little... contained? neat? less-spilling-out-everywhere-and-making-the-whole-room-a-mess?

my face feels sunburnt

which is interesting because i dont remember the last time i was in the sun long enough to GET sunburnt. certainly more than 2-3 days, which is how long it takes for the sunburn to stop feeling. so, there must be something wrong with me.

interesting.

an interesting night

on saturday night i went out with some of my friends. we went out because after 8 years we've finally got in touch again with one of our girls from highschool who we havent seen since.



i always feel weird when i go out without my husband, but he wanted me to go, and i had a good time seeing my friends and catching up on eight years of news. i made pizza for dinner, and ate with my family before i went out, which was nice, and knowing that everyone had actually eaten decent food made me feel a little better





what made the night so interesting was noticing the ways we've all changed: P is all swanked (i'll be using 'swanky' a lot. it fits.) up, and set for a 6-figure salary before she turns 26 - probably not long after she turns 25 actually; SMC is a PR person, and just as quirky as ever; M is in the process of getting a divorce from a jerk/cheater, studying full time, and working 2 days a week in a refugee placement centre; and then theres me - married (with no signs of impending - or ever - divorce), with a kid, staying at home and cooking a lot.



the differences really hit me before we even got to our destination. SMC, P and i met up at the station and headed over to the bar where we were meeting M. hubby told me i looked beautiful (HOORAH for biased love struck husbands!!), but i couldnt help feeling a little out of place in my 8-year old shoes, target skirt and k-mart shirt (which shirt cost me all of about $7 HOORAH), when i saw P in what i think i heard her say was a Louis Vuitton dress (shows how much i know about these things that i had to google it to see how to spell it), and brand new swanky shoes that i dont even want to think about how much they cost. and M in her quirky but stylish outfit, and again, fancy shoes. my friends are shoe people.

then when we actually GOT there.. well. P knows the manager. and the head chef. one of her friends knows them all too, and had rung up prior to say please set up my friends with a good table, nice drinks etc, i will pay for it all later. just walking into the place i felt weird. it was all so... swanky.

we sat around for a few hours talking, and drinking, and eating. well. they were eating, i was full of pizza. i had 2 drinks (and two orange juices and a glass of water) over the course of about 5 hours, i think they had 2-3 bottles of champagne between them, a cocktail each, and a couple shots each. i dont like alcohol much.

and then, later in the night, P's friend came by with some of his friends, one of whom was an australian actor. like i said. swanky. P's friend knows EVERYONE. owners of bars and clubs. actors. politicians. people who Just Are Famous. but he is so nice. and at the end of the night, at about 2:30 in the morning when we all went home, he INSISTED on giving M and i money for taxis home. i had money in my wallet to get home, and M was nearly crying cause she was quite determined to catch a train, and she was a little drunk, but he insisted. its so nice to see that there are still people like that. P tells me he will bundle drunk girls he encounters in 'situations' (with not so friendly sounding guys) into taxis with some cash and instructions to the driver to take them where-ever they want to go. hes just nice.

but the differences between me and my friends. they just hit me so hard.

i love to cook, i love to bake. and the best part about it is when my family tells me how much they enjoyed the food. cooking is no fun unless someone enjoys it. my friends are a little in awe of me i think. they cannot comprehend making pizza dough from scratch, or making a roast dinner with gravy that doesnt come as a powder. P came over on the critters birthday to give us a free pass to the zoo, and was greeted with homemade apple-cinamon muffins for breakfast. she looked shocked. she would probably have been shocked by yesterday's from scratch pancakes too. i suspect any pancakes she has come from cafes or mcdonalds. they cannot quite comprehend my life. but then, i cannot comprehend theirs, either.

P has been known to spend $2000 on underwear. and get less than 10 items. im sorry, but thats AT LEAST 100 items. she doesnt want kids any time soon, and plans on having MULTIPLE NANNIES on constant rotaion, to raise any she does eventually have. she may be kidding on the multiple part, but its hard to tell. her friend is a very generous guy, and has joked about giving her $25000 to spend in 25 minutes for her 25th birthday, with the stipulation that she cant buy One Big Thing, and if she goes over time, she has to return it all. M and i commented that we wouldnt even know where to begin to spend that kind of money. 3-4 cars? a house full of jewellry? i dont know. it makes my brain hurt thinking about it. but P has it all planned out already, knowing exactly where to go and what to buy, even though its a joke. i just cannot comprehend that kind of lifestyle.



all i really want is enough money to live on, and sometimes buy a 'fancy' thing or two (like actually owning a mobile phone, so i dont have to leave hubby phone-less when i go to the hairdresser, or go out with my friends every few months. thankyou my love), and have lots of kids (even though i know this last one is most likely never going to happen. i might one day convince hubby to let me have another child, but having more than 2 is extremely unlikely).

a lot of money would be nice, because money enables you to do things. i would love to have a large wad of cash fall into my lap and pay off my mother's mortgage for her. i would love to win the lottery and fix up the house, so mum doesnt have to worry about how she will afford to fix the holes in the kitchen floor under the 20year old lino. i would love to be able to afford to buy a part of mums house, knock it down and build a bigger one so we can all live here so mum's not lonely, but we still all have 'our own space'. i want to help people.

we are blessed to be in a non-dire situation. hubby's salary is lower than we would have liked, but he has a good opportunity to advance in his company, and living with my mother (which benefits us and her), we dont really need more money at the moment. we have enough to cover our expenses, and then some. so i save like mad. and i feel bad every time we buy something that we dont really 'need', but will make our lives easier. (like a mobile for me, or hubby's new dvd drive for his computer. the one he has broke just outside of warranty, and he's been unable to use it since. he doesnt really need a new one, but it sure will make our lives a lot easier than loading everything onto my computer, locating a flash drive, and transferring it to his in many tiny pieces.) and taxes should be back soon, which will give us an even larger chunk of cash in our bank account, and hopefully one day we will be able to do all the things i want to do.

it would be easier if i was earning a 6-figure salary, like P, but i dont want the lifestyle to go with it.

kids

sometimes i dont understand my kid.

at 2pm everyday its Quiet Time, when he has to go in his room and either Play Quietly (no musical toys, no jumping, no banging on the walls, etc etc) or have a nap. if hes tired, he'll put himself into bed and go to sleep. if hes not, he'll Play Noisily, and try to sneak out of his room, seeing how long it takes me to notice.

BUT.

if he needs to go to the toilet, he will stand at his door and cry. he WILL NOT leave the room unless i tell him to, and as a result, there have been Accidents.

i just dont understand.




and then he goes and does something super cute like get changed into his swimming costume to have a nap, which i dont discover until i go to wake him up, and my heart melts and none of it matters anyway.

the Lord provides.

yesterday hubby rang me in the middle of the day. unusual, but not totally unheard of. usually he calls on his way home from work, and thats it. sometimes he calls around lunch time, if hes really really bored.

yesterday, he rang to say he was being moved.

the company he works for has two branches about equal distance from our home. a-west, and a-city i shall call them, since they both start with an 'a', and one is in the west, the other in the city. see? LOGIC. a-city, being in the city, obviously takes longer (30-45 minutes) to get to because, well, its in the city. he drives WITH traffic, at a time when everyone else is also driving into the city. a-west takes only 15-20 minutes because not only is it AWAY from the city, he can take the motorway and avoid most traffic.

when he was given the job, he did a week of training in a-west, which is actually our states main office as i understand it, and was then transferred to a-city - the busiest branch, i think he said. he preferred a-west, both for the distance, and, i believe, the people, but he likes a-city well enough too, and people at both locations like him, in fact, a-west wanted him back, but a-city told them they could want all they wanted, they werent getting him. this is A Good Thing indeed, to have everyone be so impressed and want him. gives him a good chance of moving up in the company, and getting opportunities.

now. the people at a-city are a bit... rougher than those at a-west. lots of swearing goes on, lots of stupid-boy-talk, and hubby is ok with this, although it took him a couple days to get used to it again after being with calmer people for so long - hey, he spent like a month at home with me and a 3 year old, and i dont think his old workmates were rough either - but like i said, he's ok with this. hes a bit of a rough person himself.

now me on the other hand... obviously im thrilled that he has a job. i am so thankful. i would possibly be more thankful if he was earning a little more, but his current wage is entirely livable, just not 'brilliant'. and he enjoys his job, far as i can tell, and gets along with his workmates. the company thinks he can advance easily, and he wants to. and the distance, well even 45minutes is not that far away, really. but honestly, i would prefer it if he was at a-west, where the people were no so rough, and it took him less time to get to and from work. i like having him at home for as long as possible in the mornings, and home early at night - gives us more time to do things like go for a walk, and allows us to eat dinner earlier. but i was happy he had a job, any job, and i thanked God from the bottom of my heart.

i didnt even THINK to ask God to move him back, because i was simply so thankful for the job he had, and was sure God had a reason to have him where he was. maybe there would be more opportunity to move up in the company at a-city, since the people are so weird.

but God saw what was in my heart, a desire for my husband to be in a better environment for himself, and us, and he has been transferred back to a-west. one of the employees has been fired for some reason, and one has been transferred somewhere else, so they are lacking in staff, and specifically requested my husband. so back he goes, sometime in the next few weeks.

i didnt even realise how much i wished he could be at a-west until he called me yesterday and told me he was being transferred. it felt like a weight had been lifted. God saw what was in my heart when i didnt even realise it, and my unspoken prayers were answered. truly our God is a good God.

my least favourite jobs

i love being able to stay at home with my son, cooking, cleaning, playing, teaching, being a good wife and mother. my husband goes out every day and works hard so that it is possible for me to stay home. and i love it. this is my job.

but, like every job, there are some parts i like more than others.

i love cooking. i love being able to take a bunch of stuff, heat it for a while, and produce a meal that makes my mother say 'mmm. this is delicious.' high praise, coming from the woman whose food everyone i know raves about. not to mention, theres something rather calming about kneading bread.... ahem.

i love time spent with my son. he's not the most co-ordinated little booger on earth, and has just recently discovered he can actually draw a CIRCLE instead of just scribbles. and today, i managed to get him to consistently copy an uppercase-A on his blackboard. joy of joys! he also figured out how the peddles on his bicycle work last weekend, and has been riding around our house like mad. I LOVE IT!!

i love to sew. im afraid of the sewing machine, and can only hand-sew for about a half hour before i get distracted by something shiny, but i love it none-the-less, and hopefully, if i get this pattern figured out, i'll be able to make myself a whole bunch of clothes so i'm not wearing the same two skirts day in, day out.

i love polishing the furniture. boy that stuff smells good. and the silky feel of the wood after its been done.. wonderful.

i dont mind doing the dishes, provided i can convince the taps to sit at 'warm' instead of 'FAR OUT THATS HOT!!' or 'thats far too cold to get anything clean'.

i dont mind sweeping the floors. sometimes its fun, sometimes its a little boring, but it doesnt really bother me. vacuuming makes me sneeze, so its left to the husband, who doesnt mind it at all.

i dont mind doing the laundry, as long as there arent too many socks. i love the smell of freshly sun-dried clothes, and i love the feel of crisp, clean sheets. putting landry away is equally a non-event.

i DO NOT LIKE hanging out socks. i dont know why, but they annoy me no end. a whole machine of toddler sized underpants? no problem! nothing but dust cloths? fine! 6 pairs of socks? somebody stop me pulling out all my hair.

i DO NOT LIKE washing the roasting pan. even if its only a teensy bit dirty. it makes me twitchy.

i DO NOT LIKE greasing and flouring the muffin tray. cake tins are fine, pizza-pans are fine. muffin trays are not. unfortunately, its the only way to get decent muffins.

but i do all these things, whether i love them or not, because i love my family, and i love my God. and although it doesnt always happen, i try to do them joyfully, for the same reason.

my mother comes home toniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight

and i have a LOT of tidying to do. tends to happen when you have a small child, and you're not the neatest person to begin with.

if i wasnt limiting myself to 15minutes on any given project before moving to the next bit, i'd be completely overwhelmed.

it is a little annoying walking back into the kitchen after doing 5 other things to find that i STILL havent finished cleaning it yet, but not as annoying as if i was in there for the whole time.

possibly the kitchen would take less time if i wasnt scrubbing every single flat surface, and trying to find homes for things that really have no-where else to go at the same time....

and back to sewing....

.. the skirt probably would have been easier if i'd had a pattern instead of making it up as i go along, too.

too tight across the hips/legs, too loose around the waist. so... adjust the seams, check to make sure the hem-area is basically straight, try and attach some sort of waist band, and then i can figure out how to close it without a zip.

i have the perfect buttons, but figuring out how to do the closing-flap may tax my already addled brain somewhat.

i am NOT going to try to put in a zip, on my own, especially on a curved angle.



did i mention this is the first time ive used the machine for anything other than 100% straight lines no longer than 2ft that wont be seen anyway?

poor little boy

i have a sobbing three year old on my lap as i type this one-handed at a very tricky angle. he fell down, i think, and got a gash/scratch on his leg. about the length of my index finger. on his inner thigh. im not sure how it happened, since we're inside and it was on carpet, but i think a piece of thick cardboard puzzle may have been involved.

the interesting thing is that the wound didnt bother him.

the bandaid did.

as soon as i took him into the bathroom to clean it up, he started screaming "no bandaid!! i dont want a bandaid!!" hes terrified of them for some reason. always has been.

i even bought him some fantastic kid-sized wiggles bandaids with all the different wiggles characters on them, and they scare him too. wasnt a complete waste though, because ive discovered they are the EXACT right size to put on the burns i get on my knuckles/finger joints when i cook (i am CLUMSY), without wrapping all the way around my fingers and immobilising them.

so anyway. the gash/scratch is so long one bandaid wouldnt do, so i had to get scissors and cut a long strip from the bandaid roll, and i could hear him screaming from the other end of the house - "i dont want a bandaid!!!!" sob sob sob - from where i'd left him on the bathroom sink. and the screams got LOUDER when i took the bandaid roll out of the cupboard. what must the neighbours think?

and now my little one is curled up on my lap, all cried out and trying not to fall asleep. "i dont want to have a little nap" as the eyes start drooping and rolling upwards....

crying takes a lot out of you.

grargh sewing machine

making this skirt would be so much easier (and quicker) if i wasnt afraid of the sewing machine. i have it on almost the slowest speed, and im still terrified im going to sew my fingers.

blah.

figured out the chocolate

yup. guess it was comfort after all, without me even realising.


on saturday i went and got my hair done. got me feeling a bit better generally, since i looked a bit nice, but ive been feeling sad since. and today i figured it out.

my hairdresser is pregnant. her baby is due mid-december. mine would have been due around the same time as hers, give or take a couple weeks, since im not really sure how far along i was.

im so excited and happy for her, but at the same time, i cant help feeling like its not fair.

please dont tell me im mean or anything. i am fully aware that God has decided they are to have a baby at this time, and i was not. but that doesnt make me miss my dear one any less, or stop having irrational feelings about life not being fair. i lost a child. i am still grieving, every day. i wanted that baby. i still want a baby. or several. but God (and my husband) has not seen fit to allow me one at this time. and i still cant help feeling that life is not fair, much as i want to stop.

she wasnt quite ready to have a baby. she'd been thinking about it, and was planning on getting herself all checked out in the next few months to make sure her body was in good condition to have a baby, quit smoking and all that, before she and her husband decided to start trying. she messed up on whatever birth control she was using ONCE, and took the morning after pill. she was still smoking, drinking on a regular basis, eating all the wrong foods. then a couple months later, her doctor said she was pregnant. and she's going to have the baby in december, all things going to plan.

i was not on birth control, i decide to give it a rest while i discussed with my husband whether he was ready for me to have another baby. (birth control is not my choice. i really would rather not. my husband does not want more children any time soon, and much as i do, and think we should trust in God, i have to honour him.) we were still being 'careful', but apparently not careful enough. but then, just days before i was going to ask him to get a pregnancy test, i lost it. i do not smoke. (ive never even tried it.) i drink alcohol maybe 3 times a month, and know i had only ONE drink during my brief pregnancy. i know i didnt do anything to lose the baby, i know it just wasnt meant to be.

God's will can be so hard to fathom sometimes, so hard to understand, so hard to trust. i did nothing wrong, and the baby is still gone. she did everything wrong, and her baby is fine.

it just isnt fair.

and it can be so hard to put my trust in Him. to trust that for whatever reason, in whatever way, this is best. that something that hurts so very very much, can be God's perfect will.

and i try. i try so hard. and i think im getting better. but it still hurts so very, very much.

and the chocolate isnt helping as much as i want it to.

waiting to have children

every morning (every workday morning), my husband gets up, has a shower, comes back to the room, and wakes me up. i lie in bed for a while trying to convince my eyes to stay open and hydrate a bit (do i sleep with my eyes open? theyre always so dry in the morning) while he gets dressed and ready, then we both head out to the kitchen, where i make his lunch while he gets his breakfast ready. it would possibly easier for me to make his lunch the night before, but he insists the sandwiches go soggy if left in the fridge overnight, and its really no big deal to get up in the mornings and make them.

anyway.

after food making, we sit down in front of the tv for a bit, while he eats, and we watch the morning news/talkback/etc show that happens to be on. then i go back to bed - if my son isnt awake yet - and he leaves for work.

this morning, there was something interesting on the tv.

birth rates in australia are up A LOT from the past 6 years or so, but most of the births - i think they said 90% - are in the over 30s age range. and most of them are another child, rather than a first child. the reasons they gave were just what you'd expect. people are waiting till they feel 'financially comfortable' before having kids/more kids; waiting to have a career first; waiting waiting waiting.

while a part of me can understand this (sometimes i wish my son had come later, so we were more financially stable - there is a reason we live with my mother - but then if you wait till your ready, are you ever really ready), a bigger part of me thinks its really, really stupid.



im just going to ignore all the biblical stuff, since im assuming a lot of these women are not religious at all.

so you want to get yourself established in a career first. why?

a lot of women want to stay home with their children, even if its only for the first year, and then put them in daycare or something, so they can return to work. but it can be hard to break out the work-mentality and give in to the total un-schedule that comes with children. just when you think you figured out their pattern, it changes. they go from 4 hourly feeds (or more frequent) to 6-8 hours or every 3 hours, or nothing for the entire day then every hour all night, but only for a week, then its back every 4 hours.... with different sleep patterns, stop sleeping entirely, sleep only during the day, sleep for an hour/wake for an hour during the night and scream all day... and you have to fit yourself to THEM, not to your own schedule. one day you sleep in till a glorious 10am after going to bed at a mere 8:30, then you get 5hours of sleep (or less) every night for the next month. but never at the same time. 8:30 till 1am, midnight till 4am, 10-2, 4-8, its always changing.

and then you go back to work, only to find you're a year (or however long you stayed home) behind. and now that you've got one kid, everyone expects you'll have more. the bosses pass you over for promotions, because they dont want to have to get someone else in when you disappear again to have another child (if they havent already, even before you had kids, because they were sure they'd be along any time now, since you're married/partnered/whatever), the other women in the office wonder how you could bear to leave your child with a stranger.. if you even have a job to go back to. the bosses have got someone younger and cheaper and more pliable in while you were away, and theyre reluctant to go back to you. sure, theres a job for you, but its not the one you left. (i'm not inventing this last bit. a friend of mine is about to become the younger and cheaper option in about a week, and the woman about to go on maternity leave is shooting daggers at her almost consantly.)

and thats assuming you stay home with the child for a while. after working for so long, it can be tricky to give up the extra money. many women feel pressured to go back to work long before they want to, if they wanted to at all, because they feel they cannot survive on one income. and lets face it. if your disposable income is nearly halved, practically overnight, youre going to feel pretty overwhelmed. especially if youve had such a higher income for a while. the less time you have to get used to extra money (and the less 'extra' money there is to begin with), the less you're going to miss it. so many of these 30-something women are going back to work sooner than they would otherwise choose to - IF they would choose to - because they dont think they had any other choice.

now, obviously, there are many women would likely go back to work anyway, because they feel they have no choice financially (or their husbands feel they have no choice). but getting used to one income in your early 20s when thats all youve known anyway, is a lot easier than getting used to THE EXACT SAME INCOME in your mid-late 30s, when you've been used to nearly double.

and if you do manage to get well established in a career, and then throw it all in to stay at home and have kids, everyone thinks youre insane anyway. why would you possibly want to give up a well paying, secure job youve had for so long, to stay home and have children? how can you manage all that housecleaning and nappychanging and foodcooking? obviously, youve lost your mind. when are you going back to work? never. NEVER?? INSANE!!


then theres the fertility issue. just because women all over the world are having babies on their 40s, 50s, even 60s, doesnt mean YOU will be able to. just because you have ONE child (or two, three, seven, fifteen) doesnt mean you will ever be able to have another one, even with all the medical help in the world.

lets say you get married and start trying to have a baby at 21. fertility decreases sharply at.. what.. 35? so you have 14 years to try before things start getting significantly trickier. a year passes. no baby. another year. still no baby. you go see a doctor, who says as far as he can tell, theres no reason why you havent conceived. so you just keep trying. after another couple of years, and a lot of thought and discussion, you decide to try ivf. it fails. a few times. and quite a few more. you give up. its been 6 years, and a lot of money, and you just cant handle the failure any more. then, a year later, you find youre pregnant. at 28.

now lets assume you didnt start trying until youre 34. assuming it still takes 7 years, you will be 41 before you have a baby. and considering fertility drops at 35, who knows if that baby would ever come?

obviously, this isnt going to happen to every woman, and for some, after a couple of years of trying, the doctor will find something wrong, fix it (or come up with some option, whatever) and there will be a baby. some dont have any fertility problems at all - my mother didnt have me, her first, until she was 35, and my sister was conceived not long after starting to 'try' again, and born when my mother was 38.

but if you HAVE fertility problems, and dont find out until your mid-late 30s, theres a lot less time to try and do something about it, before it simply becomes ridiculous, and far far too expensive.


which kinda ties into another problem. age. energy. whatever. if you have ONE child, at 22, by the time the child is 17, able to be left alone for week or so if needed (holidays, hospital, whatever) (and yes, some children can be left alone younger, but i wouldnt feel comfortable leaving alone any child under about 17), or alternately, old enough to completely ignore you and stay out all night giving you no indication of where he/she is and completely ignoring any punishment (remember, im assuming these families are non-religious, but there are children in religious households too who will rebel, unfortunately) you will only be 39. if the child is born at 35, you are 52. i dont know about you, but i imagine im going to get tired a bit easier at 52 than i will at 39.

and come to think of it, i have a lot more energy now, at 25, than i imagine i will at 38. i have joint problems, and my lungs arent the best, but i can run around with my kid, i can play football and chase him around the park. i can tickle him until he and i can hardly breathe. i can toss him in the air (a bit). i can crouch down behind the kitchen counter and jump out at him. if i had waited til my mid 30s (or rather, if God had waited, since he was absolutely totally and ENTIRELY unplanned) i doubt i would be able to do those things. my joints are only going to get worse (as theyve been slowly but steadily doing since i was 8), and i imagine my lungs wont get any better either. if i have more kids, as i want, i will gradually be able to do less and less and less... but still more than i'd be able to do if i'd started having kids later.



im not saying everyone should get married as young as possible and start having children immediately. but i really do think this trend of waiting so long to have children is not sensible.






please remember, this entire post has been written from a non religious perspective. there are of course other reasons not to get married and then wait 10 years to have children, but ive been trying to think in ways that make sense to everybody, not just religious people.

on the subject of chocolate..

.. ive been eating far too much of it lately. i know part of it has been a comfort thing, but i thought i was ok now... and yet especially this past week or so, i cant stop eating the chocolate.

its not that time of the month, so that doesnt explain it. pregnancy is highly unlikely. is there something in chocolate that my body needs, and isnt getting elsewhere?

i know sometimes i randomly get cravings for other foods, like carrots, or apples, or dairy - ANY dairy - for a while, and i assume ive been leaving something important out of my diet without realising.. but chocolate? seriously. whats in chocolate??

wow

never before has it been so obvious that i have a boy, not a girl.

he would rather eat sultanas (raisins) than a slice of chocolate cake.

i so need a daughter.

will me email stop bugging me now?

ok, i get it. you like sending round these 'send it on' emails, and you would like me to send them on. well. i KNOW you lurk here, and i dont want to clog emails, if i post it here will you leave me alone already?

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME (first pet & current car): brutus astra (hubby's car, but sometimes i drive it..... when we remember to practice)
2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME (favorite ice cream flavor & favorite cookie): hmm.. either lemon-sorbet macaroon, or hazelnut macaroon. not a very scary gangsta there...
3. YOUR "FLY GUY/GIRL" NAME (first initial of your first name & first three letters of your last name): s-sim. alliteration is not my friend here.
4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME (favorite color & favorite animal): green cat
5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME (middle name & hospital where you were born): irene mercy
6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME (first three letters of your last name & first two letters of your first name): sim-sa (much better than aus-sa, as it would have been 3 years ago. this time, alliteration is my friend)
7. SUPERHERO NAME ("The" & second favorite color & favorite drink): the black apple-and-blackcurrant-juice. um... how about the black lemonade? who here wants to be saved by The Black Lemonade
8. NASCAR NAME (the first names of your grandfathers): dan lewis. i think. not so sure on my dad's father's name.
9. WITNESS PROTECTION NAME (mother's and father's middle names): peggy stretford michael. dad has 2.
10. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME (your 5th grade teacher's last name & a major city beginning with the same letter): bool brisbane. hello, im bool brisbane, welcome to the weather.
11. SPY NAME (your favorite season/holiday & flower): spring allysum. sounds like a very flighty spy....
12. CARTOON NAME (favorite fruit & article of clothing you're wearing right now & "ie" or "y"): apple scarfie. scarfy? um.. kinda odd either way...
13. HIPPIE NAME (What you ate for breakfast & your favorite tree): weetbix crepe-myrtle. odd sort of hippie....
14. YOUR ROCK STAR TOUR NAME ("The" & your favorite hobby/craft & your favorite weather element & "Tour"): the sewing storm-light tour. i wonder what sort of music they play?

okydoky. all done. my various alter-ego names. happy? no more emails?

well.

i feel better after having my hair done, its certainly helped me get out of a little slump. but now my husband is upset with my sister and of course im stuck in the middle. i wish they could get along.

so many things to do for tomorrow's bbq. i just hope things stay civil til the end of tomorrow. i really would like things to be nice for my son's birthday party.

it would be easier if hubby could just ban her from our house, but of course, its not our house. its my mum's house, and she has a right to be here.

i dont know how much of this i can take.

i just dont understand

he KNOWS he isnt allowed in the laundry. how do i know he knows? because when i ask him where he is, he comes running out with his hands on his bottom and says 'i dont get a smack!'

also, not 20 minutes ago i called him out of the laundry and told him if he went in there again, he WOULD get a smack. this is AFTER he decided to play in the laundry powder earlier this morning while i was in the bathroom, and got in trouble already.

EVERY DAY he is told 'you are not allowed in the laundry. say it.' 'i dont go in the laundry'. 'what happens if you go in the laundry?' 'no! i dont want a smack!' 'then DONT GO IN THE LAUNDRY.' 'i dont go in the laundry. i dont get a smack.' and EVERY DAY he goes in there, regardless. first time, he gets told off. second time, he has to sit, and is told the next time brings a smack. third time, smack. and yet, he does it. EVERY SINGLE DAY. often, even after he gets a smack.

i can't just close the laundry door, because our 11yr old, 20lb, nearly blind cat has his litter tray and his cat door (dog door. with no actual door. because he's so big he ripped it out of the hole) in there, and i dont have the time or patience to open the door every time he wants out, and stand there for half an hour while he decides whether to go through or not.

what am i doing wrong? nothing i try keeps him out of that room. even if i DID close the door, which i have done when the cat is soundly asleep, he just opens the door and goes in anyway.

yelling, smacking, sitting in a corner, going to bed, talking softly but firmly, glaring, ignoring, explaining that it's dangerous, NOTHING WORKS. he cries, says he's sorry and wont do it again, THEN HE DOES IT AGAIN. i have tried everything i can think of short of leashing him to the other end of the house, and im NOT going to do that.

at least there were no socks in the wash today.

definitely a sleep-talker.

so, after the bacon incident yesterday, he woke me up AGAIN thismorning.

there was a whiny crying noise, and then he yelled something about the toilet. i think. he was a bit incoherent.

so i got up, went to his room, and he was fast asleep. FAST asleep. didnt even move when touched him.

guess he's definitely my kid.

bacon?

yesterday, at about 5am, my husband and i were startled awake by yell of I WANT SOME BACON!!!

then there was silence.

i dont know why he wanted bacon at 5am, or why he didnt mention it again after that one yell. maybe he was asleep.

my critter is a very strange little boy.



on a VERY unrelated note, on sunday we went over to dad's to go to some jewish holiday/festival thing with him. i forget what it was called.. sukkot maybe? it involved a $150/each lemon-type-thing and three different leaves, and eating in tents.

anyway.

it was soooooooooo nice to look around and see that nearly every other woman (and girl) there was wearing a skirt. there were about 3 in jeans, and one in something rather odd... it looked like a skirt... until you noticed the hem was sewn together except for a hole for each leg to go through. not coulottes, there was no separate leg pieces at all, just a skirt sewn together at the hem, like a bag, with a hole for each leg. interesting. but anyway.. it was just so nice not to feel wierd for being the only one in a skirt that actuall reached past my knees. my sister wears skirts, but they're tightish, not quite knee length, and one actually has a rather high split. i usually feel very wierd when i go out and im the only one in a long-ish skirt.

well.. i wouldnt call them long exactly. theyre mostly just past my knees. but when the norm is just a glorified belt, it looks long.

on the subject of skirts, i noticed something interesting the other day. my newest skirt, the brown-cord one, is longer than the rest. mid-calf. and sometimes i have to hold it up a bit to climb steps, if theyre very steep. something peculiar i noticed, is that even though i dont lift it as high as my other skirts fall to naturally, it FEELS shorter when its lifted, and i feel like its too short. isnt that strange? i noticed that in my formal dress years ago as well. a long skirt lifted a couple inches feels shorter than a skirt that only comes to the knees.

'lets not, and say we did' OR 'and now he is three, trials and tribulations of raising a critter'

yeah so i had this all typed up to post on his birthday, and then.. didnt. for some reason. so lets pretend you're reading this on september 29th. ok?

also, any idea how time consuming it is to go through over 13000 images on your computer because the photos you want arent in the folder you thought they were in? and then discover that actually theyve been DELETED and you wont find them anyway?

oh, and sorry for the length. this post is indeed extra-super-long. i love my boy a lot. not interested? understandable. go back with the archives to the right. anyway, on with the show!!

three years ago, i was lying in a bed in RPA, with a squeaking newborn by my side. i was probably asleep. my son was born at 4:02am, wednesday september 29th 2004, after 4 hours of labour, and a lot of tearing. i lost at least 1.5L blood, and gained the most beautiful child i have ever seen. he was 3.795kg (8lb 6oz), 52cm (20.5in) long, and had a head circumference of 33cm (13in). i remember thinking how glad i was that i didnt have a water birth, because he started squeaking before he was fully born.
*push push push scream groan scream push push head pops out* 'squeak' um.. is that my baby? 'yes your doing fine, come on one more big push...'
it was rather surreal.

and the eyes... they plonked him on my stomach the second he was out, and HE LOOKED AT ME. he opened the biggest, darkest, deepest eyes ever, and looked straight into me. and thats when i knew i was hooked. and then he pooed on me, and i didnt care, because he was beautiful. so beautiful.

the first couple of days were.. um.. spent in a daze, because of the blood loss, and the fact that there was a squeaking thing next to me, instead of an alien creature inside me trying to kick my innards out through my throat, while simultaneously trying to break my pelvis. (see why my friends think im the best ad ever for birth control?) they didnt let me go home till saturday night.

partly to make sure i was ok, partly to make sure he was.

because he wouldnt feed. the midwives actually seemed a little shocked at how much milk i had, after finding he wouldnt eat. they thought it hadnt come in yet, and hunger was making him fussy, however i'd been 'leaking' from about 6 months. and actually, until he weaned at about a year, i had to sleep with a bra and nursing pads, because otherwise there were milk patches bigger than dinner plates on the bed. but he woudnt feed. i was so determined to breastfeed, it near broke my heart when we had to buy formula after a couple weeks because he wasnt feeding. for some reason, he just didnt like me much.

we ended up buying a hand pump (eventually we gave up on the pump. it hurt, and hand expressing was faster. not to mention there was always so much milk barely touching would fill a bottle), and i expressed almost constantly so he wouldnt be on formula too often. the first time, there was almost a litre of milk. i filled at least 3 bottles. and he would happily drink from the bottles, just not direct from me. sometimes, he wouldnt even let me feed him the bottle, he would scream and cry until i gave him to his daddy. eventually i figured out he liked to be held under my arm instead of across my chest. got feeding rates from about 40% to about 80%. he still threw fits a lot of the time though, and sometimes there was no option but formula, or a hungry baby. my heart goes out to all the women out there who can't breastfeed, for whatever reason. i struggled for a year to feed my son, and went through a lot of formula, and a lot of tears, in the process. breast is best, but sometimes it simply isnt possible.

his first baths at home were awful. he screamed and screamed and screamed.... then we realised he likes his baths HOT. wrist-warm was too cold for him. which is a problem, because of....

eczema. at about 4 or 5 months, he was hospitalised for 5 days, with horribly bad eczema. his skin was so raw he had pus-filled blisters all over the soles of his feet, and it took 2 courses of anti-biotics to get rid of it. worst part? QV, the eczema helping stuff, hes allergic to it. or something. it makes it all worse. to this day, we bathe him in oats. about half a cup of oats in a stocking goes into his bath, and all the oat-milk is squeezed out. you would not believe how much it helps. anyway.. hospital. he was smothered in hydrocortisone cream, then eucerin, then wrapped in wet strips of fabric. these were then wrapped in crepe bandages, and the whole package was held on by tubi-socks. even his HEAD was done. for a week. in hospital. then we had to continue at home. and still do. he doesnt get wrapped anymore, but hes almost always got moisturiser on him somewhere, and hydrocortisone is a staple in our house.

during his hospital stay, we found he has allergies. namely, egg, and cat fur. ever tried to make a cake with no eggs? it can be tricky. the no-egg we use doesnt rise quite the same as eggs do... since then, we've discovered he's also allergic to chicken and turkey, and probably hazelnuts and pistachios. why probably? well every time he gets into my nuttella, he breaks out in a rash, and when he ate a pistachio, he threw up intermittently for 2 hours. he also jsut has generally sensitive skin. if he eats something juicy, like a peach or a watermelon, he gets a rash on his face where the juice touches.

he didnt open his hands until he was 2 months old. he still sleeps with his hands in fists.

when he was 8months old, we went to visit my grandmother in the nursing home, for mothers day. 4 generations all together, ranging in age from 8months, to 95years. i dont know how aware she was by that point. she knew we were her family, but i think she thought my husband was one of my cousins, and im not sure she knew who my boy belonged to. she was happy though.

it took him a while to crawl, but once he started, he could go SO FAST. it caused some interesting dilemas. like most new parents, we started out doing everything 'by the book'. anything that went into his mouth was sterilized in boiling water. until i got out of the shower one day and discovered him eating the cat food. didnt seem worth it after that.

then he started walking at about a year. backwards. and then he learned to run. and he hasnt stopped since. before he started to walk, he did this weird walk/crawl thing.. hands and feet instead of hands and knees. terribly cute. then he decided walking on his toes is the way to go. its odd to watch.

when he was 18months old, we went back to the USA to visit my husband's and my families. he helped me pack. we stayed with hubby's mother, and the critter loved meeting his nana and his uncle, and daddy's friends, as well as my family. and he actually slept for most of the trip over there. since he was so small, we knew we would need a car seat once we were there, so we took his car seat, and put him in it on the plane, covering him with a blanket to make a tent when he started looking sleepy. he slept for a good 8hours of the 14hour flight. that was brilliant.

and proving that his super-skinniness is not because we underfeed him, he ate more than a 5 year old did for dinner. that was interesting, seeing the look on her mother's face (my hubby's best friend) when our 18month old ate more than her 5year old daughter...

also, both he and i experienced snow for the first time. ITS CRUNCHY. snow is crunchy! i wasnt expecting that.

he didnt really talk until after he was 18months old, so nana didnt hear anything other than 'hi'. now, he wont shut up. he talks CONSTANTLY. ALL. THE. TIME. even when theres no-one else in the room. and he sings. he can sing the alphabet, leaving out only 'N', row-row-row your boat, twinkly twinkle, insy-winsy spider, bob-the-builder theme song, and nearly anything that comes on the radio.

shortly after he started to talk, he started talking 'on the phone'. using whatever happened to be handy as a phone. inclusing the flat of his hand. he now has very elaborate phone conversations when he plays. "heyo? yes hi! its ME!! how you doing here today? huh? yes i fine. whatchoo talking about? no.. no no no! ok. ok. ok yes. ok bye daddy. i yuv you sooooooooooooooooooooooooo much. i yuv you too. bye daddy. see you in you car. bye." but not when hes actually talking to a real person. critter, daddy's on the phone. say hello. "hiiiiiiiiii.................................... uh-huh....................................................... yes......................................................... yes....................................................................... i yuv you too daddy bye *kiss* *drop phone*"

early this year, when he was a little over 2, we stopped with the dummy (pacifier, binky, whatever). got him down to in bed only, then down to only night time, and eventually, no more dummy at all. if only toilet training had been as easy as weaning from the dummy.

he started choosing what clothes he wants to wear a few months back. he tells me 'no' when i pick out something, and pulls out something entirely different from his drawers, and insists on wearing it. this has resulte in outfits such as: camo pants, bright orange singlet, and shirt with car print, accompanied by one sandal and one bob-the-builder shoe. and a green hat. he usually doesnt get to go out dressed like that, however. and he still loves dressing up in any adult's clothes, which he's been doing nearly since he could walk. he's worn grandma's high heels, daddy's work boots, mummy's handbag, aunty's hair bands... he doesnt seem to have a distinction between 'boy things' and 'girl things' yet. his favourite toys include a dollhouse and a tonka truck. and now, a BICYCLE! which he can only make to go backwards. or over my feet. isnt THAT fun.




everyday he grows and changes. a friend of mine works for a company that sponsors taronga zoo, so she got us free tickets for his birthday. he had an amazing time, pointing out different things to us, looking at all the different animals. and telling us when he needed the bathroom. and knowing what his 'favourite' animal was. for the record, elephants. he can cover his eyes to wait for a surprise. he makes choices about what he wants (apple or toast for breakfast critter? 'um.... no. weetbix!') even if he he changes his mind after hes had it for a while and loses interest (finished your weetbix already? what a good boy. 'i want TOAST for breakfast now!'). he has a vague understanding of 'tomorrow' and 'later' and can remember things we did weeks ago. he chooses his own clothes, often rather oddly. he really is a whole little person now, instead of just a small human shape.

watching him grow is simply amazing. and as much as he annoys me sometimes, frustrates, and confuses me (seriously? yesterday that cardboard tube was your ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE TOY EVER, and now you say 'yuck' and throw it away... but if you cant find it in half an hour, i know there will be screams), i love him so much i cant believe it, and everything is all worth it when two little arms wrap around my neck, a wet mouth kisses my cheek, and a sqeaky little voice says 'i love you mummy'.